First of all: thank you to everybody who takes the time to read, favorite, follow or review this story; your support really means a lot. Sorry it took me a bit to update, but on the bright side - I made it before Christmas.
We've left off our couple in bed, physically and emotionally exhausted. Finally, Emma has said the three words out loud - more or less - alas, not meant for Hook to hear; that step she has yet to take. Fortunately, he has heard them all the same and knows they are on a good way.
She's Real, Too?
The next morning, Emma awoke refreshed and unusually early. This time, the bed beside her wasn't empty. Her lover was still sleeping like a baby. She sat up, pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them then rested her left cheek on her knees as she watched Hook in his slumber.
He was lying on his back with his left arm behind his head and his hand resting on his flat stomach with ringed fingers spread just above his bellybutton. The sheet covered his lower body just enough to keep him decent, though not enough to keep Emma's thoughts from tip-toeing into carnal territory. But there was more than desire on her mind; the shy smile on her face delighted in the tenderness for him coiling deep within her heart, loving the way his head lolled a little to the left like a young boy deeply ensconced in dreamland. In his sleep, his features were completely relaxed and ageless. The centuries of vigilance had faded from his beautiful face and were replaced by contentment. And he truly was beautiful. Flawless except for that single scar on his cheek, his face had become the standard by which she knew she'd always judge other men. His long, sinful lashes feathered out over his scruffy cheeks, and even now a barely perceptible smile curved his lush, slightly parted lips as if he were thinking very lovely thoughts.
Emma's eyes wandered from his messy hair over his face and perfect chest – sprinkled with that hair that drove her crazy and smelled so good – down his muscular right arm to his hand, normally so expressive, but for once motionless in its repose. A hint of a blush warmed her cheeks as she recalled in vivid detail just how talented those fingers actually were. His fingertips brushed over his abdomen, the subtle ridges of muscle shifting with each of his breaths. Honestly the man was in remarkable shape, his body strong and well-toned. Every inch, and she truly meant every inch, of Killian Jones was worthy of note. The man was gorgeous and she could have admired him like that for hours, but the most stunning thing about him right now was that tiny ghost of a smile still playing at the corner of his luscious mouth, more prominent now than it had been just moments before. He must have had a very pleasant thought before falling asleep and somehow that made her incredibly happy. She had an inkling that she had something to do with that smile; at least she hoped, anyways.
Emma felt her own smile bloom across her lips as she sat watching him, just enjoying the cocoon of peace blanketing the little room. She remembered what she'd whispered to herself the night before, right before falling asleep, and she still couldn't believe that she'd said the words out loud. Well, technically, she hadn't said them out loud, and especially not for him to hear, but she knew she'd be ready for that soon, too. She wanted to keep that feeling to herself, to revel in it just a little bit longer. But soon. The thought alone made her smile brighten.
As if he'd been sensing her stare linger on him, Hook stirred slightly in his sleep and then opened one dazzling blue eye. "What are you doing?" he asked, his voice still thick with sleep which somehow made it even sexier than usual.
Emma smiled and lifted her head from her knees. "Watching over you."
He opened his other eye and grinned. "You're doing nothing of the sort, Swan." And already, barely awake, his hand started talking and motioned between them. "You're ogling me."
That man. She rolled her eyes. "Please. You really need to get over yourself."
His eyebrows twitched. "What fun would that be?"
She couldn't help but smile and shook her head. "Come on," she said and nudged the arm still lodged behind his head, "we have a lot of things to do."
"Oh, I absolutely agree on that, love..." With a swiftness that shouldn't really have surprised her, he propped himself up on his left elbow and reached out for her with his hand. But Emma was pretty quick herself. She snatched her arm away before he could grab her wrist and swung her legs out of bed in spite of his growled protest.
"Not that," she waved him off and ignored the lewd grin he threw her way, rolling his tongue along the inside of his bottom lip at the sight of her standing naked beside the bed. She blushed slightly under his shameless, appreciative stare, but refused to wrap a sheet around herself and hide. Instead, she raised her chin. Deal with it, pirate. "I meant serious things, Deputy Sheriff." She chuckled at the way his handsome face fell when he heard what she'd called him.
He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes as if he hadn't heard right. "Come again?"
Emma threw a mean grin his way and replied cockily, "You wish."
But for once, he let the occasion pass to jump on an innuendo. "Did you just call me a law enforcer, Swan?" he asked incredulously and shook his head almost grimly. "The things I'd do for you are multifarious, my love, but I shall never be a law enforcer." His voice dropped a few nuances, and he threw her one of his intense glances from under his raised eyebrows, head tilted slightly down, completely stripped of any flirtation and burning with seriousness. "Even as a pirate, I do have some dignity," he added.
Emma put her hands to her hips and cocked her head to the side. "Seriously now?"
He waved his hand in a standoffish way. "I have lived as an outlaw for longer than I can remember, and I'll be called a law enforcer only over my dead body," he insisted almost defiantly. Then he threw her a more than suggestive glance and grinned, shifting pointedly under the sheet. "Although... even if my body might be three hundred years old, it's anything but... dead."
With sheer, iron willpower she forced herself not to look at where the sheet barely covered his lower body; instead, she fixed her gaze on his face, ignored his pun and the way he popped the 'd' when he said "dead", and smiled in mild amusement, knowing exactly what he was doing. "Does it matter what you call it?" She folded her arms, her own nudity completely forgotten, and threw him a challenging look. "What do you think you've been doing since we got back from New York? Or, better yet, from Neverland?"
Hook scratched behind his ear and tilted his head, averting his eyes for a moment. "Watching over you?" he offered.
Emma groaned and waved him off impatiently. Really, what was wrong with being called a good guy? He was just so stubborn sometimes. "Okay, how about Supporting Hero then?" she suggested. "Assistant to the Savior? Is that better?"
He cocked his head in that equivalent of a nod that was so typical for him. "Much better." Then he threw back the sheet and swung his legs out of bed. With his back to her, he slowly got up and stretched his lean, well-toned body, every muscle twitching and moving underneath the silky skin. Emma rolled her eyes and almost huffed, annoyed at herself that she couldn't help but shamelessly stare at the glorious sight of his muscular backside, the broad shoulders and the trim waist, not to mention his perfect backside. Her mouth started watering, and unconsciously, she licked her lips. And, of course, she knew that the bastard was doing it on purpose. So much for her earlier innocent appraisal; her thoughts were now firmly in camp carnality. Damn, they had spent the whole evening and the better part of the night making love, and yet again she wanted nothing more than to jump him.
When he thought he'd teased her enough, he went in for the kill, turning around and smirking at her. Great. Presenting his front wasn't one tad better. "Speaking of assisting you..."
"Oh no!" She raised both hands in front of her. "Stay right where you are. I can take care of myself just fine."
Her gaze flew from Hook – who was slowly sauntering towards her in all his naked glory – to the bathroom door, contemplating if she could make it past him without looking like she was trying to flee; now, that would really look ridiculous. She was a grown woman, and she made her own decisions. Her hormones would not get the better of her! Alas, her momentary distraction had made her pondering obsolete, because he'd already reached her and, with a swift sweep of his right arm, had snatched her into a tight, warm embrace. Immediately, the little hairs on the back of Emma's neck bristled when she felt his bare skin, still warm from bed, against hers. For a moment, they swayed a little while she steadied herself against him, and that – combined with his almost triumphant smirk – reminded her very much of their moment in the giant's treasure room, a long time ago. It's about bloody time. No, it hadn't really been necessary to pull his body against hers to prevent him from stumbling over the trip wire; she'd done that instinctively, without even thinking about it. And afterward… well, she'd been lying to herself for quite a long time, denying that she'd felt a spark between them even back then.
"Oh, I'm sure you're perfectly capable of that, love," Hook's voice brought her back to the present from her reverie. But he threatened to catapult her right out of reality again when he bent down to graze his scruffy jaw along the side of her throat while slowly bringing his lips to her ear for a lewd purr. "But isn't it so much better when I take care of you?"
With slight reluctance, Emma put her hands against his chest like she was aiming to push him away. There wasn't much strength in that move, though; she simply enjoyed the feeling of his body against her palms too much. "Oh, come on. Stop trying to distract me." Also, her voice didn't sound as unnerved as she'd intended it to.
He leaned back again to look her in the eyes, tilting his head and using his 'puppy face' on her. "What harm can two more minutes do?"
"Two minutes?" she echoed with the slightest hint of accusation in her voice. "We both know what you have in mind will take more than two minutes." She shook her head when she noticed what she'd said and corrected herself quickly. "Would take. Far more."
He grinned, his eyes glittering with that devilish spark. "Why, you flatter me, love. But I can assure you, acquiring my main goal shan't take up more time than that."
"And what's that?" she asked, now amused.
He held her close with his left arm and raised his hand to her face, trailing the contours of her cheekbone with his fingertips while his thumb slowly traced her lower lip. The light touch sent a shiver down her spine, and she had to close her eyes involuntarily for the fraction of a second. "To make you say 'please, don't stop that' instead," he drawled in a very low voice that did funny things to her stomach and her knees. His damn eyebrows shot up when he cocked his head in a little shrug. "Or moan it. I'm not particularly punctilious about the details."
Damn that pirate and his smugness! She rolled her eyes. "Hook..." she sighed, but it came out much less annoyed and chastising than she'd meant it to be.
He just chuckled and leaned down again, kissing the side of her throat this time, slowly and thoroughly, while his hand inched down her back, leaving traces of goose bumps on her bare skin. "Sighing my name is already a good start," he murmured against her flushing skin. "You might want to go ahead, love..."
Emma couldn't help but close her eyes and let her head fall back to give him better access to her sensitive neck, although she really had no intention to. She was a little annoyed at herself and her lack of resistance to his charms and complained half-heartedly: "I told you to stop..." But when she felt him slowly walking her backwards to the bed, sliding his thigh between her legs in the process, her hips rolled against his and her fingers curled all by themselves, nails digging into his shoulders where she was holding on. In response, he chuckled against her skin, his scruff tickling her every nerve end. They stumbled on the bed, and Emma landed on her back with Hook by her right side.
Before she could protest any further – not that she could have mustered the energy to do so anyway – he bent down and kissed her fully on the mouth; slowly, thoroughly, demanding. Almost casually, his hand cupped her face while he flexed his hips a little and pressed his hardness against her side. His right knee draped over her thighs, holding her in place as her back arched and she pushed her sensitive center upwards against him.
His hand traveled down her throat, gently but also firmly cupping and caressing her left breast. He felt her moan softly against his lips and raised his head to look down at her lovingly. "You were saying?" he teased.
"Damn you, Killian..." she breathed and entangled her hands in his unruly hair, trying to pull him back into the kiss again.
All his devotion mirrored on his face along with that devilish spark lurking in his eyes and the corners of his mouth. He killed her with his heart-stopping smile. "Say the magic words, my love," he murmured in a voice of honey and gravel.
She knew protesting any further was pointless and sighed, "Please, don't stop that..."
In fact, it had taken him not even ninety seconds to achieve his goal.
When Hook left the bathroom with naught but a white towel slung carelessly around his hips, Emma was already almost dressed. Her back was turned to him and she was cursing under her breath like the best of sailors. Aye, she had definitely a pirate side, and he loved it. He grinned.
"What is it, love?" he asked in an amused voice.
Emma whirled around, standing there in her button-less blouse that was shamelessly gaping open at the front. She gesticulated angrily, tugging at the useless button border. "This!" she snapped.
"Apologies, but I'm not skilled enough to be of any assistance with that," he chuckled. "As you know, I've only one hand..." he held it up in the air and wiggled his fingers. "...whereas you have magic. Can't you fix it?" He motioned to her flawless pantyhose and cocked his head. "You fixed that thing."
Emma threw her hands in the air in exasperation. "No, I didn't. That was a spare pair."
He frowned in confusion. "Pardon me?"
She shrugged. "I always carry one in my handbag, just in case."
Hook's jaw dropped, but she was too busy fidgeting with her blouse to see it. "In case of what, exactly?" he inquired with narrowed eyes. "Care to elaborate?"
She rolled her eyes. "In case of a run!" Finally, she recognized his confusion and couldn't help but chuckle. "These things are delicate and very easily torn, sometimes it happens accidentally. One little hole is enough to have a tear run up and down from there. That's called a run." His eyebrows were still raised in suspicion, and she went on in an amused voice: "Then it looks ugly, and that's why I keep a spare pair in my handbag whenever I wear them."
"Hmm." He nodded and suddenly grinned when a thought flashed through his mind. "And do you carry a spare pair of knickers in your satchel, too?" he wanted to know and tilted his head.
"Of course not!" she snapped. "Panties usually aren't torn accidentally."
He motioned vaguely towards her. "Does that mean, you..." He let his voice trail off and rolled his tongue slowly through his mouth. Emma was not amused; she already felt uncomfortable, not wearing panties underneath her pantyhose. But the torn garment had been hopelessly damaged by his hook the previous evening.
"It means," she pointed out sharply, "if you want to have breakfast with me, you'd better make yourself at least halfway decent now." Abruptly, she turned her back on him, studying herself in the mirror on the wall beside the closet. In frustration, she knotted the blouse between her breasts which left her belly bare and, in combination with the short skirt and the high heels, reminded her of an only slightly classier, blonde version of Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. "Great," she growled more to herself, "I look like a hooker." The moment she realized what she'd just said, she whirled around to him again and shot him a deathly glare right between his half-clueless, half-amused blue eyes. "Don't. Say. A. Word!"
In three hundred years of dealing with tricky situations, Hook had learned when it was better to stage an orderly retreat, so he just raised his eyebrows with a slight head tilt-shrug and quietly picked up his clothes to dress without further ado while his Swan slipped on her black trench and buttoned it up.
A short while later, Emma and Hook were sitting at what seemed to be fast becoming their table, or rather, booth. She had her usual mug of hot cocoa in front of her along with a plate of pancakes she'd topped abundantly with maple syrup. As it turned out, and with only a little surprise, Hook was more the type for strong tea and scrambled eggs, though he didn't seem to be used to eating that much in the morning. Emma, on the other hand, could survive the day with only a strong coffee if she had to, but if she took her time to sit down for breakfast, she loved to revel in it; she wasn't one of those people who didn't care what she was eating and just looked at food as a necessity for calories intake.
Hook was already done with his eggs and played with his fork while he secretly delighted in watching her eat. Instinctively, he caught on to the sensuality she found even in something pedestrian like eating. There was a story there, he was quite certain.
At some point, she felt his observing eyes on her and looked up at him, frowning. "What?"
He just tilted his head. "Nothing, really. I was just thinking..."
She wiped a droplet of maple syrup from her chin. "About what?" she inquired.
He put down his fork. "What do you say, once things have settled back to normal again, I take the lad down to the harbor and show him how to use a sextant and a compass?" He pursed his lips and shrugged. "Teach him a little sailing?"
Emma looked at him with an open-mouthed expression, completely taken by surprise at his suggestion. It pleased her beyond anything that he obviously hadn't forgotten what she'd asked him the evening before, and equally as apparent, he'd put a great deal of thought into it. But then a thought hit her, and before she could finish it properly, the words were already tumbling out of her mouth.
"But you don't have a..." she stopped herself when she realized what she'd just been about to say. Blushing, she tensed as she tried to change course. "I... I mean..." she stuttered feebly. Oh, damn. She squirmed on her seat.
Only the very faint ghost of a shadow touched Hook's handsome features before he looked her in the eyes, fidgeting with his tea mug, and covered up any hint of melancholy with his bright trademark grin. "I'm still a pirate, Swan," he reminded her quietly, "I can damn well board any ship, any time I wish it." Her eyes widened, and he winked at her. "Just a joke, love," he chuckled. "I do realize that as the..." – he tilted his head and moistened his lips with the tip of his wicked tongue – "...boyfriend of the local law enforcer I have to refrain from any nefarious ways which might land me in your brig." Emma relaxed when she saw the humor twinkle in his eyes and her own gaze darted to his full lips before forcing them up again with a smile. Raising a brow in question he continued, "I'm sure there are enough law-abiding methods in this realm for... allocating a ship without resorting to my scoundrel ways?"
Emma nodded. "Of course there are." Naturally, he knew nothing of the chartering business yet. She took a sip from her cocoa and scrutinized him closely. His offer spoke directly to her heart, but as much as she wanted him to spend time with Henry – for the kid's sake as much as for pure egoistical reasons; she realized she wanted her pirate boyfriend to connect with her son – she didn't want him to do it in a way that might make him sad. "Are you sure?" she asked tentatively.
He withstood her gaze and even frowned a little. "Of course I'm sure, Swan. I promised I would, didn't I? And I always keep my promises."
She smiled and picked up her fork again with a pause of indecision, poking at the last pancake on her plate. "I know you do," she murmured.
And then, for some reason, her mind tripped back to a distant place, an almost surreal surrounding – dry, deserted, dangerous. A fight, a feeling of desperation, the need to get home... and an infuriating, lewd line, thrown out at her like a promise – he'd even been so impertinent to call it advice – When I jab you with my sword, you'll feel it. She set the fork aside with a final clatter, looked down at her mug and pressed her lips together, grinning to herself when she thought of how accurate that prediction had indeed been. Of course, Hook noticed the change in her expression and raised a questioning eyebrow, tilting his head and searching her expression.
"Why are you blushing, Swan?" he prompted with a bit of amusement, sure that her beautiful blonde head was in the proverbial gutter once more.
Emma froze and waved him off impatiently. "Never mind." Damn, that "open book" thing was really annoying sometimes, she thought in slight frustration, and seriously, would it always be like that now? Her turning to mush like a lovesick teenager and having impure thoughts at the smallest trigger? Well, good luck with that. And this time, he couldn't even be blamed, as his declaration about keeping his promises hadn't held any trace of innuendo at all.
He didn't reply now. Instead, he grinned and sipped silently from his tea as her thoughts continued to unfold. She simply couldn't distract herself from that day, that occasion, that dreadful feeling that she'd be forced to forsake her son again when she'd lost her sword after what felt like one ridiculous second of crossing blades with Hook. He'd so effortlessly disarmed her... and then, suddenly, he was the one flat on his back – the fight turning on a dime seemingly out of nowhere. A realization hit Emma like a ton of bricks and she stared at Hook with wide eyes and an open-mouthed expression.
He put down his tea mug and wiped his ringed thumb over his mouth absentmindedly. "What?"
She narrowed her eyes. "At the lake, our sword fight..." she murmured.
Hook smirked. "Ah, that's what made you blush?" He leaned back against the bench in that annoyingly cocky way of his; and she just knew his legs underneath the table were spread, and much to her dismay she blushed again at that thought. He tilted his head in a very smug way. "Aye, I suppose I did live up to that particular promise..." He rolled his tongue shamelessly through his mouth and, like so often, let its tip peek out between his sinful lips before he added, "Something tells me you did feel it."
She rolled her eyes. "Can't you think of anything else than..."
"It seems that indeed you're the one who can't," he interrupted in an infuriatingly self-satisfied tone, and the only thing she could hold in his favor was that he lowered his voice so that nobody could hear his response. Always a gentleman. "And, besides," he went on, "I don't recall you complaining about my extraordinary focus last night... or the night before." He inclined his head a little and let his damn eyebrow twitch. "Or half an hour ago." He smirked. "Especially not half an hour ago."
"Never mind!" she snapped again and waved him off impatiently. "That day, you let me win!"
"I let you win?" he echoed and shook his head. "Apologies, love, but I seem to recall you" – he pointed his ringed index finger at her – "knocked me out flat with a compass!" He rubbed his hand over his scruffy jaw. "It's a miracle you didn't leave me permanently marked. Now that would have been a shame!"
"Before that!" Emma pointed out impatiently. "You could have easily bested me one-handed!" Hook cocked an amused eyebrow, and she rolled her eyes. "I mean... come on, you know what I mean."
"Well..." He scratched behind his ear and waved his hand vaguely. "Perhaps I was a little... distracted."
She shook her head and gave him her no-nonsense look. "I'm a good fighter, but not good enough to beat big, bad Captain Hook and his three hundred years of swashbuckling experience, come on!" He just averted his eyes for a moment before turning them back at her with a secret little smile and said nothing. Emma folded her arms. "You let me get away with that compass, Hook. Why?"
Finally, he gave in with a sigh and shrugged. "I knew we didn't need it," he admitted. "Cora and I had other means to get to your land, and I figured it would be... more interesting if you were here, too." He flashed her his brightest grin.
She scrutinized him closely, suspiciously. Then she nodded thoughtfully. "So, you did it for purely selfish reasons then?" she inquired, raising an eyebrow herself now.
He looked down at his tea mug; his grin had turned somewhat serious. "That, too," he conceded and thoughtfully scratched behind his ear, "and besides, depriving another lad of being with his mother forever was never really an option."
Emma knew he was talking about Neal – Baelfire then to him – and how he felt responsible for having him grow up without his mother, Milah; something she'd never understand. After all, a mother running away from her child one night just because she wanted to live an unbound life, never even bothering to come back for him or even check up on him, seemed awfully selfish. She pushed that thought away, though; it was nothing she wanted to explore right now. But she knew he was telling her the truth. She shook her head, amazed. "I knew you had a soft side," she gently teased.
He raised an impatient hand. "Stop it, Swan," he growled, though it lacked any real bite, and fidgeted with his earring. "You're about to ruin my reputation."
Emma smiled fondly and nudged his knee under the table with her leg. "You already did that yourself, Hook."
He rolled his eyes. "Are you going to finish that, Swan?" he asked almost curtly in his embarrassment and waved his hand a little briskly towards her plate. "I thought you said we have lots of things to do."
"Yeah, right," she replied in an amused voice and rose from her seat. "Come on, let's go. We have to stop by the loft first."
Mary Margaret had just finished feeding and changing the baby when the apartment door opened and Emma came in, a slightly uncomfortable looking pirate following on her heels.
"Good morning," she greeted the newcomers then directed at her daughter, "Look who's here!"
"Line's getting old, mom," Emma replied dryly and went over to her, pressing a kiss on her baby brother's bald head. The dark haired woman rolled her eyes. Emma nudged her playfully and gave her a cheeky sorry-not-sorry-grin. Not being a teenager did indeed have its advantages.
"I was going to fix some breakfast once I've put your brother back to sleep again," Mary Margaret then said, "you guys want some?"
"No, thanks – we've had it at Granny's," Emma said apologetically and headed for the stairs. "I just need to get..." she waved her hand vaguely and averted her eyes, "...something."
Fresh underwear, Mary Margaret thought sarcastically and turned her attention to her daughter's pirate boyfriend, still standing in the middle of the room like a pillar of salt, shuffling his feet. Look at that, she grinned to herself, under all his insolent pirate swagger and loudmouth innuendos, at the end of the day he's just like the next guy mortified and terrified by his girlfriend's parents' interrogation. Well, let's give him some. Mary Margaret decided to let her devilish bandit side roam free and beat a little about the bush. She motioned to the table with her head.
"Come on, Hook, have a seat," she invited. "Since when are you so shy?"
Hook grinned a little uneasily and slumped down on one of the chairs, truly hoping that his Swan would be back soon. When he'd seen Emma's mother the last time, they'd parted on fairly friendly terms, but of course a lot had happened since then. Emma hadn't spent the last two nights at home, and the royal bandit knew damn well where her daughter had been. He had an inkling she wouldn't let that pass without at least some comment. And what in the blazes was he supposed to say? Believe me, I was going to be a gentleman, but your daughter begged for it, Your Highness? A little guiltily, he ran his hand over his mouth and hoped that she would busy herself with the baby, but alas, she sat down at the table opposite him, the wee one on her arm, and directed her attentive scrutiny on him. Wonderful.
"So," Mary Margaret began the inquiry, "where are you headed today?"
He was thrown off track for a moment as he had expected other questions. "Nothing special," he replied quickly and scratched behind his ear, "just..."
"Hook," the princess bandit interrupted firmly, and he fell silent. "Don't you give me lame answers. David already does that. If there's any danger brewing, I have a right to know. Is there anything I need to worry about?"
He looked into her eyes, noting that she was the no-nonsense royal rebel now. Once more he admired her gumption, he always had. He shook his head. "We just want to check the Wicked Witch's premises to make sure we haven't any other surprises lurking on the horizon."
Mary Margaret's eyes widened. "Why?" she asked. "Has anything happened?"
"Nothing." he tilted his head. "I've just learned that a proper villain normally always has something up their sleeve." He grinned, for a moment every inch the former ruffian again, and added, "At least I always did." Mary Margaret rolled her eyes, and he went on. "I've also learned that double-checking is best."
She studied him closely to see if he was hiding anything from her; satisfied that he was being sincere, she nodded. "Good."
Hook cleared his throat and motioned to the baby. "And how's the wee one doing?" he asked.
Mary Margaret looked down at her son whose eyes were closing already and smiled. "He's doing fine. I'm getting used to it." Suddenly, a spark appeared in her eyes. "Speaking of which..." She rose from her seat and rounded the table. "I forgot something..." Hook looked up at her, frowning in question, and suddenly froze in shock when she bent forward and quickly and unceremoniously laid the baby in the crook of his left elbow before he could object. "You don't mind, do you?"
"Wha... wait, no, what..." he stuttered, but before he could even form a coherent phrase, she'd turned around on her heels and disappeared in the direction of what was probably the bathroom, or so he assumed. Hook's eyes widened and his body turned all rigid. He stopped breathing and, without moving his head, turned his eyes down on the tiny bundle the damn bandit hat put into his leather-clad arm. A newborn, bloody hell, in his hooked arm! Was she out of her bloody mind? He saw that the baby's eyes were now wide open again and appeared to be looking directly at his new host. Marvelous. Tentatively, Hook wiggled his eyebrows at the wee one. "Shouldn't you be sleeping?" he suggested feebly.
The infant – Neal, he remembered, Emma had told him – suddenly started to whimper and flapped his tiny arms uncontrollably. Hook was terrified to feel the bundle move in his arm and quickly put his big hand on the tiny body, right on the stomach, fingers spread, so that the baby was secured in his arm. Luckily, the minute human seemed to approve of the touch, or maybe it was just the warmth of the palm he felt, and stopped wailing, his eyes still fixed on Hook's face. Say something, he urged himself. But what? He'd never had to deal with infants that small – older children were another thing, but something so tiny and fragile just frightened him. He moved his arm a bit back and forth tentatively in a rocking move, imitating a cradle. The wee one seemed to approve of that, too.
"There, there," he murmured without thinking and tried to keep his voice low and soft like a comforting hum. "Mama should be back soon..." He threw a nervous glance over his shoulder and added, "At least, let's hope so, little mate..."
When Mary Margaret came back carrying a completely unnecessary baby blanket she hadn't really needed to fetch, she suppressed a grin at the sight she was privy to; Hook did look a little clumsy with the baby bundle in his left arm, but he'd steadied and secured Neal with his hand on the child's stomach. His head was turned to the earnest little baby face as he murmured, and he was actually carefully rocking the infant in his arm. Quite the cutthroat pirate, she thought in amusement. When he heard her approach, however, an expression of relief spread over his handsome features.
Mary Margaret folded her arms and nodded approvingly. "You seem to be quite the natural when it comes to handling my... children," she commented pointedly, deliberately using the plural form.
Bang! That came out of nowhere. Devious bandit! Hook couldn't help but admire her. She'd confused him then startled him, and now she was attacking from an unexpected position. Excellent tactics. "Hardly," he murmured and raised his arms a little, inviting her to take the child back. But obviously, she didn't have that in mind yet. She raised her chin in that haughty way of hers and scrutinized him closely. He was dying to scratch behind his ear, but didn't dare to take his hand off of the baby's body.
"My daughter cares for you," she said, "a lot. She might not be ready yet to tell you so, but we both know she does."
Hook had no idea where she was heading now; had she switched over into disapproval? He knew instinctively this wasn't the right time for flippant jokes or snarky replies. He bore his eyes into hers, hoping that all the depth and sincerity of his feelings for Emma were transparent. "I very much do hope so, Milady," he told her firmly without a single hint of teasing.
Mary Margaret nodded. "Listen, p– … Captain," she corrected herself; only an ever-so-subtle twitch of his eyebrow and a quick tightening of his jaw signaled that he'd noticed the word she'd chosen – and the word she had not chosen. She tilted her head. "From one former outlaw to the other..." she pointed her right index finger first at herself, then at him. "This might not be the Enchanted Forest, but I can still draw a nasty bow at anyone who hurts someone I love." Hook raised his eyebrows and tilted his head in a nod. She bent forward and narrowed her eyes. "If you want to be a part of this family, you'd better bear that in mind."
If her choice of words had blown him off of his feet – and how could it not have? – he didn't show it. He just swallowed and tilted his head again, but it wasn't just a nod this time, it was a bow. "Point taken, Milady," he replied smoothly, allowing a little sass into his voice now.
Mary Margaret nodded, obviously satisfied for the moment. "Good." Then, as if nothing had happened, she reached her arms out and took the patient baby from Hook's arm. "Come on, Neal," she smiled brightly at her son and added in a singsong voice without looking at the pirate, "Uncle Killian has to go and do some hero business now."
Hook felt it was now safe to roll his eyes at Mary Margaret and throw her a sarcastic grin, knowing where he stood with her. If you want to be a part of this family... damn the princess bandit, she was as amazing as her daughter Margaret reciprocated his snarky glance and even winked at him, when Emma descended the stairs. Clad in jeans, a sweater and her red leather jacket now, Emma sensed something had been going on during her absence. She wasn't so sure she wanted to know what it was, though.
"I'm ready to go," she announced as she slyly checked with quick probing glances that her mother and her lover weren't at each other's throats. But somehow, a secret understanding seemed to waver in the air between them. All seemed to be well. Emma shrugged mentally; she surely wasn't going to wake any sleeping dogs.
Hook rose from his chair. "Then let's go."
"See you later?" Emma directed at her mother; Mary Margaret just waved them off.
They left the apartment, Hook's stride much more confident than when they'd arrived, and while she was pulling the door close behind them, he muttered under his breath, "No skirt today?"
"Nope." She grinned to herself. "Today you'll have to work a little harder to get to the good stuff."
"Challenge accepted," was his only answer.
Half an hour later, they'd thoroughly checked thebarn Zelena had used for her wicked purposes, but it seemed empty and innocent. The strange circular symbols she'd made the Dark One dig into the compacted clay soil were still visible, but absolutely no danger seemed to emanate from them. Emma still shuddered, though, when she clearly saw the marks where she and Hook had been dragged across the floor towards the open abyss that was the time portal.
He noticed how she hunched her shoulders like she was freezing. "Emma?" he asked with a frown.
She kept staring at the middle of the concentric symbols, where the portal had been and, unconsciously, rubbed her left arm. "I really thought we wouldn't make it out safe this time," she murmured, more to herself than to him.
"Well, thanks to you, we did," he replied softly, realizing how much that obviously still affected her.
Finally, she tore her eyes away from the floor and looked at him. "You contributed your fair share to that, too," she told him with a smile, and he quickly averted his eyes for a moment in that embarrassed way of his. She shook her head at him and went on. "If you hadn't believed in me and encouraged me..."
He grinned and tilted his head in a shrug. "I told you, I have yet to see you fail... and I still haven't."
"Right." She pressed her lips together in a smile and nodded. "You were right, back on the beanstalk... we do indeed make quite the team, don't we?"
Absentmindedly, he smoothed out her hair with his hook. "Apparently so, love."
Emma winked and moistened her lips. "Even if I did deprive you of a dashing rescue."
"Well..." – his eyebrows twitched – "I did at least rescue you from... you know..." He waved his hook nonchalantly.
Emma's eyes widened when she realized what he was talking about. "What, aboard the Jolly Roger?" She snorted a little ironic laugh. "Please. I was in control of the situation," she told him a little too casually, a little too firmly.
Hook tilted his head and raised his eyebrows again. "That's what you think, Swan. From what I saw, he handled you pretty well..."
Quickly, she looked away, a little flustered as she tried to cast away the memories that her head was replaying before her inner eye: her, dressed as a bar wench, and Hook's past self on the Jolly Roger below deck; her hands clinging to the lapels of his coat, his hooked arm pulling her body firmly into his, while his hand had gone right to the back of her head as they'd kissed. Yes, they'd been staggering back and forth, and he'd been a bit drunk, but still surprisingly steady on his feet – probably due to centuries of experience of standing on swaying planks. His lips had been rough and demanding on hers and tasted of salty air and the rum she'd made him drink, and she'd kept telling herself it had been the constant rocking of the ship that made her feel a little weak in the knees and insecure on her feet herself.
She raised her chin a little defiantly and replied in a rush, "You didn't see a thing. He was drunk."
Hook tilted his head while both of his eyebrows shot up and he scratched behind his ear. "Oh, I can assure you, that never would've kept me… him from his intentions." He waved his hand casually. "You know what I mean."
Emma waved him off impatiently. This was getting a little awkward. "Well, whatever."
With determined steps, she walked past him and headed for the exit to leave the barn, but he quickly reached out with his hook and held her back by her left elbow. She whirled around and glared at him. There was a devilish spark in his eyes. "I was wondering..."
She rolled eyes; obviously, he wasn't through with the subject yet. "What?" she snapped.
"Well..." he tilted his head again and looked at her from under his thick eyebrows in that typical way of his, gently poking her chest with his ringed index finger. "How far would you have taken the charade, had I not interrupted your... dalliance?" Back then, right in the middle of the situation, it had disturbed him a good deal to helplessly watch his Swan that close and intimate with his predatory past self. Now, as they were safe and nothing had actually happened, and he was sure that she was really his now, he started to see the irony and foreshadowing of that situation and could be relaxed about it – and even see the hilarious and revealing sides of it.
Emma, however, narrowed her eyes and asked in an almost threatening voice, "What are you suggesting?"
Hook reached out with his hand, took a strand of her soft hair and let it run through his fingers. In spite of the almost carefree, unconscious caress – or, maybe, exactly because of that – it was a very sensual gesture. He never took his burning eyes off of hers though. "Tell me, Swan..." He paused long enough to roll his tongue through his sinful mouth before he went on; "...would you have sailed that ship right into the harbor?"
In an infuriated move, she tossed her head and snatched her hair out of his hand. "Of course not!" Briskly, she turned on her heels and stomped out of the barn. He followed her quickly, thoroughly amused now and also pretty smug about the fact that even though they'd been on an important mission and his past self had still been more of a rogue than anything else, obviously he'd indeed had a huge effect on her. Her angry bluster and reddened cheeks spoke of her lingering embarrassment at his insinuation. Open book.
"Not even a little tempted, Swan?" he purred.
Damn him. Not that she hadn't asked herself that question a hundred times already. If she was honest with herself, she could have chosen a myriad of other ways to create a situation that would have kept Hook's past self occupied in that tavern and held him back from returning to the Jolly Roger too soon. Yet, she'd decided to – it couldn't be described otherwise – shamelessly throw herself at him. She'd told herself that had been the best way to make sure he'd forget everything else, but a tiny part of her had never been able to deny how much she'd actually enjoyed flirting with him; to play with him and make a pass in that shamelessly lewd way that absolutely matched his for once. As much as that wanton bar wench had been his type, that ruggedly handsome, blatantly self-confident pirate with the incredibly blue eyes, wicked tongue and husky voice had absolutely been her type. And she hadn't even been ashamed of herself – always telling herself that it had all been for the greater good. When it had become clear that she wouldn't be able to prevent him from returning to the ship any longer – come back with me for a nightcap or shall I find somebody else? – she'd told herself that she didn't really have another choice than to go with him and play along. And while they'd walked along the mole towards the ship – his hooked arm wrapped firmly around her waist – she hadn't bothered to ask herself what was going to happen once they reached the ship and she'd be forced to lay her cards on the table.
No, of course she would not have gone all the way, even if the real, present-time Hook never appeared on the ship to disturb her tête-à-tête. Or would she? Would her baser nature that had obviously always drawn her towards him, in whatever version, have gotten the better of her? Maybe, if she could've been sure that it wouldn't have held any consequences for the present and that nobody would ever find out about it... no! She stopped herself. The thought was too embarrassing to even finish.
So, as an answer, Emma just shook her head, but she grinned to herself when Hook couldn't see it and muttered under her breath, "Maybe a little..."
"Come again?" he called after her, but she just rolled her eyes. She made a few steps outside when she felt his hook at her arm again, her right arm this time, and was roughly held back. "Swan, wait!"
She spun around angrily. He really didn't know when it was enough, sometimes. "Alright, already!" she snapped. "I was tempted, okay? Maybe I really would have..." she interrupted herself when she saw that his expression had completely changed from amused and teasing to serious and worried, and his eyes were looking past her, scanning the outside of the barn. "Hook?"
Almost absentmindedly, he threw her a quick look. "I know you were tempted," he replied almost impatiently and pointed past her. "There," he muttered under his breath and she frowned, now really worried. It had been a few days since she'd last seen that tense, danger-aware expression on his handsome face. Slowly, she turned around to see what he was pointing at and saw the strangest, perhaps most intimidating appearance she'd seen since a ten-year-old little boy had knocked on the door of her small apartment in Boston a little more than two years ago. Stranger even than flying monkeys.
The creature stood maybe seven feet tall, and its posture only vaguely resembling a human. But it could have also been a giant locust; it had dangerous looking claws instead of hands and definitely moved like a predator. Surprisingly enough, Emma could spot something which looked like the remnants of a red dress, and the creature wore something like a golden helmet with two big golden horns. Its face, however, had nothing human about it, and from the quick glimpse she was able to get, it reminded her faintly of a figure in a horror movie she'd seen a long time ago – Species. The creature hasted across the field and disappeared into the forest; the wailing noises it was making were definitely not human.
Emma's jaw dropped when she slowly turned around to Hook. "What the hell was that?!"
Much to her surprise, he didn't look as shocked and completely thrown off track as she felt. "Bloody hell," he murmured, more to himself than to her, "I thought it couldn't escape..."
"What?!" She slapped his leather-clad chest with the back of her hand. "Hook! Do you know anything about this?!" she inquired.
He shook his head absentmindedly, his eyes still scanning the forest edge. "Not really. But I know who does."
Her eyes widened. "Who? Gold?" She grasped the lapels of his leather coat and firmly tugged at them to draw his attention to her. "Damn it, Killian, answer me!"
Finally, he focused on her again and tilted his head. "As much as I wouldn't mind blaming this on the Dark One, alas, not this time," he replied without the slightest hesitation.
"Then who?" she almost yelled. That man was so infuriatingly cryptic sometimes.
For a moment, Hook's eyes grew a shade darker and his jaw tightened. "Well, the Queen, of course," he almost growled.
"Regina?" Emma gasped in disbelief, and he just stared at her again with an almost sarcastic lift of his brow; obviously, something had happened between Hook and Regina which involved this fearsome creature, but she had no idea where and when and now wasn't the right time to investigate. Instead, she quickly pulled out her cell phone and dialed Regina's number.
The former Evil Queen answered after the third ring. Instead of a greeting, Emma cut right to the chase. "Where's Henry?"
"Well, good day to you, too, Miss Swan," Regina replied sarcastically. "He's upstairs with Roland."
"Are you sure?" Emma probed.
Something in her voice obviously woke the other woman's suspicion, because she didn't snap back snidely at Emma's impoliteness, as she normally would have done. "Yes, I'm sure," she answered in a no-nonsense voice. "What's wrong?"
"We need to talk," Emma replied curtly. "We'll be over in a few minutes." And with that, she hung up and headed hastily for her car with Hook following closely behind.
They arrived at Regina's mansion only a few minutes later. Emma banged loudly, and perhaps a bit rudely, on the door. Regina, however, didn't seem all too upset about their visit. She looked at them with a raised eyebrow and benevolent irony. "Well, well, well... if it isn't the happy couple and their blossoming young love," she commented.
Emma was flabbergasted for a moment and looked a little helplessly to and fro between her former enemy and her lover. Hook just tilted his head and didn't reply whereas Regina chuckled. "Come on, Miss Swan, you didn't think it would go unnoticed that neither of you has been seen around for the last two days?" Emma raised her chin defiantly and thought for a moment that Regina should be the last to make fun of blossoming young love. There was nothing to be embarrassed about. But Regina wouldn't be Regina if she didn't find an embarrassing thing to put her finger on. And of course she didn't let it stop right there, either. "Oh, and rumor has it that at our local bed & breakfast the nights have become... noisy."
Hook couldn't help but scratch behind his ear and grin to himself, although he tried his best to suppress it in the light of the situation. Emma decided to ignore Regina's remark and shook her head. "There's a beast on the loose!"
The former Evil Queen wrinkled her nose in disgust and raised her hands. "Definitely too much information, Miss Swan. I'm really not interested in the details of your..."
"The sheriff means your friend that used to live not-so-happily under the library," Hook threw in sarcastically, and Emma's head snapped around to him. What the hell had been going on between them? She only knew of one creature that had been living under the library, and that was the dragon she'd slain a long time ago – before Hook had ever set foot in town.
Regina turned to him with an alarmed face. "Maleficent?!" she almost gasped.
Emma's eyes widened in disbelief while Hook just nodded solemnly. "The very same lovely lady you tried to feed my guts to, Your Majesty," he replied, not without a certain edge to his voice. Emma's eyes flew to Regina again, and she clenched her fists, hating the feeling of not knowing what was going on when the other two obviously did.
"Who?" she snapped, ignoring Hook's remark. "The lady with the horns in Sleeping Beauty? Are you two kidding me?"
Regina rolled her eyes at Emma's ignorance. "Oh, come on, Miss Swan," she scoffed. "Enough already with the surprise. You really should know better by now." She opened her door wider and briskly nodded her head inside, beckoning them in. "Yes, she's real, too, and yes – this is serious."
Acknowledgements:
As usually, they go out to my wonderful editor, emeraldromance, who did a particularly wonderful job this time creating the sonnet of his perfection, as she so eloquently put it. Darling, your Hook is showing ;)
Then, of course, there's my muse Silvia - always the first sounding board for my ideas; and the first feedback is always the most important one.
Well, well, well...
Believe it or not, but this storyline had already been written before we were told that the wonderful Kristin Bauer would be reprising her role as Maleficent in season 4B - I simply needed a new crisis to trigger the progression of the relationship, and I didn't want to invent a new one. We'll see what she's up to. Please let me know what you think - as always, reviews are highly appreciated.