So i've found myself a little distracted recently. That god-damn final episode is the main reason for it. Ah the feels! And so help me lord of the pancake i shall slaughter eddy and adam if hook and emma dont get together. All that set up and they tear them apart, oooo you shall see things fly.
So that's that mini-rant, and if i'm left to go on longer it shall be longer than this chapter itself!
Any ways, this is a chapter, i've got the next one ready to go in the next day or so, it's just the one after that that's proving difficult. But again, that's all sidetracking from what is really important, which is this chapter!
~88888~
His day had started off so well. He had a beautiful woman in his bed, who was quickly on a path to returning to the whimpering mess she'd been overnight, the sun was shining, and he'd had a plan for the day: keep the beautiful woman in bed as a whimpering mess. It was a simple, glorious plan well on its way to being true. Then His Royal Intrusion David Nolan, had to barge in to destroy the blissful image, and essentially drag the beautiful woman away. Watching her leave he had been seething. He was almost tempted to grab her hand as she kissed him one last time, pull her down and say 'to hell with him', forcing her to stay and remain his, but he thought better of it. It would not do to force her to do anything; she had already shown him that she didn't need to be forced, coerced or bribed into coming to him, not when she would come willingly. He could only sigh as he watched her dress and leave, promising to return.
No, he definitely didn't need to force her to be his, she already was.
Still, afterwards, he honestly wasn't sure if he found the whole thing of being caught in bed with the Prince's daughter to be a hugely embarrassing moment or just simply hilarious. At the time he'd found it hilarious: he was on top of her, her legs were wrapped around his hips, her body hanging off him, nails digging into his flesh as she clung to him in the throes of their passion. There could be no doubt what they looked like they were doing. He had wanted to laugh at the look on the bastard's face as he stared, frozen in place at the two interlocked figures, his daughter and the pirate. He had to admit, if he had a daughter (fingers crossed he'd never fathered a bastard) seeing her entangled with another man would have been a sight he never wanted to encounter. Still, it hadn't intruded his mind as he fought the laughter. He wanted the man out, wanted him to have never approached the threshold of his cabin door; there was a woman beneath him that desperately needed finishing, and it was mostly for her benefit that he wanted the man to disappear. But afterwards, the laughter at the situation had been replaced by something else. He had found himself dwelling on the embarrassment of the situation, but he realized that it was mostly for Emma's benefit.
I mean think about it, a man walked into a room to find the woman that was genetically his daughter, socially his friend, and who acted like his sister in bed with a man who socially and spiritually he greatly disliked. Hook hoped that David didn't despise him, (although he figured he might now) especially after everything that had happened in Neverland. Still, that didn't have to mean that Hook liked him, no in those few moments, he hated him.
Still, the whole ordeal had left him with a smile on his face. "Just try and keep me away" she had said as her body disappeared into the daylight. He'd been sitting on the bed, watching her dress – a strange sight to be sure – and then watching the vacant space she had left. Oh yeah, he was a fool, back in the place he had been with Milah, back in the place he had been before his Naval days. He was a lovesick puppy dog unable to wait for the woman to return to him. Then his smile faltered.
Lovesick? Had he really just thought of himself as lovesick? (Had he really called himself a lovesick puppy to her face?) Sure he fancied Emma, sure he cared about her, had feelings for her, but was he in love with her? Hell no! He'd felt love, felt the satisfying warmth that filled your soul when that other person came into your life. But he'd also felt the cold burn as they were ripped away.
Milah's death hadn't just burnt him in the moment Rumplestiltskin had plunged his hand into her chest and crushed the red orb in his grasp, it had burnt him for years afterwards. He'd been unable to see straight, unable to think straight. He was driven almost to the point of insanity trying desperately to find a way to destroy the man who had destroyed his happiness. And all it had left him with was a hollow emptiness in the very pit of his soul. Emma had swung into his life like the ore from a blacksmith's forge. He saw her as a conquest, a notch to his belt. She was ridiculously attractive and ridiculously stubborn. She would not yield to him. And he tried ever harder to induce her. That night in Neverland, he had not expected her to kiss him, had not believed that she would. Sure he hoped she would, fantasized about what her mouth would taste like, what her tongue would feel like against his. And it was nothing compared to the reality which left him with a feeling of wholeness he hadn't felt in years. Not the wholeness of love, just the wholeness a single person has before they have ever felt love's cruel sting. And it had only grown since then. But this feeling now, this had him in a place he never thought he would return to. He looked down at his lap where his arms were lying and saw the tattoo on his forearm. He didn't stroke it, didn't touch it, didn't do anything, just stared at it.
For some reason, he thought the 'a' in her name was smiling at him, as though she was happy for him. Maybe it was time to move on.
He fell back on the bed with a heaving sigh, unable to believe what his mind was saying to him. He was not in love with Emma Swan, not yet at least. But he chose to think instead about how he came to be in this position.
She had come to him, finally, and spent the night at the complete mercy of his touch, a slave to her own desires. And come the morning she hadn't run; hadn't expressed disgust with herself for what had happened – which was usually what happened when a woman awoke in his arms who he had no claim on – and above all, had demonstrated absolutely no regret. Even when the hapless oaf that was her father interrupted them, she hadn't let anything enter her mind and whisper sweet nothings at the mistake she had made. He smiled remembering her look from a few minutes earlier as she had left: want, need. No, he didn't love her, she didn't love him (he refused to acknowledge their brief conversation where both used the term 'love') and despite that, she was his. The only reality that came with her father was that she had a life that she couldn't disappear from, no matter how much she may have wanted too; it was the reality of the morning.
But she had left him alone, his blood still pulsing with energy, and despite his musings, they weren't enough to douse the fire. It wasn't that uncommon for him to think about her in recent times as he saw to his own pleasure, only now, it wasn't fantasy of what she might look like naked, what she might feel like around his cock, what she might taste like; no now he had the reality of her hips and his beating in unison, of her milking him with the muscles only he could touch, and her mouth, oh that glorious mouth! He groaned as the thought pushed him over the edge and then, as he cleaned himself up, it took root in his mind, tormenting him; he was definitely going to have to get her to do that again.
What had followed was an energy that he had not felt in some time. He dressed and headed above deck. Despite the fluttering of snow that dusted the ground, the sun was shining surrounded by a glorious clear blue sky. He quickly saw to some of the rigging, and then departed the ship. Only this time, his absence was not to find the nearest tavern that could restock his rum supply, this time he was off to find his mates; his crew.
Oh he didn't care that a spot of honest pirating was not really a possibility in this new world, but hey, those men were his friends, his brothers, and he'd been avoiding them for too long. And honestly, it did not take him long to find them.
It seemed that during the years of the curse his crew had become new men, sort of. They were all clean, clothed, and well toothed. It was an odd sight. Whilst the curse may have removed their desire to pillage and plunder, it hadn't removed their love of all things rum. When the curse had lifted they had found each other in the one place they had in common, the pub. All had been melancholy about their missing leader, and had attempted to find some form of replacement, to no real success. Their melancholy had only been entrenched when their Captain returned and had not sought them out. Seeing the Jolly Roger docked had only darkened their moods. Some had sought him out, shouting abuse at him for avoiding them. But as he entered the bar, and approached them with a smile on his face all negative thoughts they had about him were promptly forgotten.
His crew members were delighted to see him; it had been too long for many of them to go about without their Captain, and it did not take him long to fall into the patterns he had had in the past with most of them. It seemed that most of them had been given cursed identities akin to their trade as a Pirate; most of them had become petty thieves during those damned 28 years, but one or two of them – Hook noted that it was those who were marginally nobler – had been granted other identities; young men attempting scholarly pursuits, or stuck back at home with their parents in largely dull existences.
He was quickly back in the spirit of being a jolly pirate. He was surrounded by his crew, there was laughter, cheer and general merriment as they all regressed to the men they once had been. Their drinks sloshed down their fronts and spilt down their throats. Hook had spent years forgetting certain aspects of his life, but now, it seemed he was in a place where he could remember again.
He was downing the remnants of his beer when his drink, which up till this point had avoided his shirt, sloshed down his front as one of the bar's fellow inhabitants bumped into him. Hook turned to face the person responsible for him spilling his drink and came face to face with a buxom blonde reeking of tobacco and leaving nothing to anyone's imagination.
"Oooo the famous Captain Hook, I was wondering when you'd return." She attempted to purr.
Hook wasn't sure if the smoke that accompanied it came from her mouth or just emanated from her skin. He eyed her as he wiped his chin. There was no doubt that Storybrooke was not the world for her. The fabric covering her ass was tiny over tattered fishnet stockings, and the cloth of what could best be described as her top was at best, merely there to convey the sense that she wasactually wearing clothes. Hook attempted to imagine her in the guise of one of the Enchanted Forrest's many whores. She could have been one of any, and she was making a strong case that the tavern-whores of this world had much better luck in their old.
"Come my dear Captain, it's been too long since you pillaged my waters." She slurred leaning into his ear.
Hook doubted she had waters that he had ever been tempted to pillage. Having said that, in another life he may, may have been enticed. Definitely if he'd encountered her years ago, before Milah, before he believed in what love felt like, he would likely have been a happy customer, probably. But right now, he wasn't even remotely interested in what the blonde had to offer. He already had blonde.
"Some other time, perhaps." He carefully avoided her as he sidestepped her; the talons at the end of her fingernails were causing his rear to tremble.
She pouted over-dramatically as he stepped away from her.
"Still the darling everywhere he goes!" His first mate chortled, handing him another tankard of yellow liquid, approaching him from the bar.
"Tis the price I must pay for being this pretty." He quipped before downing another mouthful of the watery liquid. "You'd know a thing about it if your mother had known better than to bed your father." The men all chortled. His first mate grumbled as he too downed some more of his beverage.
The Rabbit Hole was a dark place. The bar was the brightest part of the room and it caused its inhabitants to blink furiously as they collected their drinks. It was a place where night-time ruled; the sun never rose for its patrons. So when the main door opened during the daylight hours, it usually caused every patron to glance at the cruel soul reminding them of the heinous existence that was their lives. Hook was one of the few who didn't look to the door. Every soul in Storybrooke knew who he was, and most of them feared him; he was the feared Captain Hook, he never stopped until his enemies were destroyed. He had nothing and no one to fear in this town. His history with Gold and the Mayor's mother notwithstanding, most of the inhabitants of Storybrooke kept away. Still that didn't stop the surprise of having his shoulder tapped, turning around, and barely seeing the guy before his left cheek stung and his mouth turned to metal.
"What is it with you and taking what's not yours?" It was Neal.
His drink was spilt all over the floor. He spat the metallic taste he had so rarely experienced, and which he had never particularly liked to the floor. But as much as he wanted to defend himself, there was something that was holding him back.
"How many wives have you been with? How many mothers?" Neal shouted roughly at him, pushing the other men off of him as they stormed to their Captain's defense.
"I would dearly like to defend myself, but I really don't think you're going to like the honest truth." Hook responded, wiping his lip, finally looking up at the man before him.
"Seriously?" Neal spat, managing to shake off every man that had come at him. "You took my mother away from me and now you're taking my son's? And you're not gonna say anything? When I found that picture of my mother you didn't lie to me. But now, you're gonna hold out on the truth?" He stared incredulously at the pirate.
Hook stepped closer to him. Emma was something very new for him, something he had no interest whatsoever in discussing with his crew listening in intently. And as much as he wanted to not say anything about it, he knew that Neal was not going to leave until he did. He had a feeling that whatever Neal knew, Emma hadn't been the one to share it with him. And a part of him acknowledged that whatever taunting he wanted to do to the man he couldn't do it. But he had to say something. And strangely enough, the words he found, sounded remarkably similar to the ones he had used years earlier to the boy, only this time, they were not out of desperation.
"I didn't pursue her, if that's what you're implying." He whispered, stepping closer than he needed too. "She came to me. I hadn't seen her since we got back from Neverland. But what I will definitely say is that she's an adult, as are you. I strongly suggest you go talk to her." He spoke so quietly that only Neal could hear.
"Oh and it would do well to remind you that she's nothing like your mother." He added in an undertone.
As much as he wanted to keep the petty arguing at bay with Neal, he couldn't resist that little stab. He had to do it.
Neal's reaction was what he had expected as he went to hit Hook again, but the men surrounding the pair caught him before his knuckles even graced the air touching the other man's face. "You bastard, don't talk about, get off me, I'll kill you!" The man stammered and shouted as he was thrown out of the bar.
Hook winced as he heard the thud of Neal's body hitting the pavement before the door slammed shut. Neal was a mixture of many things. Hook remembered the child, Baelfire, who'd had a strength and determination inside of him that could only come to a child through parental abandonment. Neal had grown to be as stubborn as an ox. Hook did not doubt that he was a smart man and a great father to his son, but he had forgotten that you cannot claim someone as yours when that other person was not reciprocal. Hook had watched Emma and Neal interact in Neverland. He had watched a couple encounter awkwardness. They did not embrace, did not demonstrate any great partiality, Emma especially. She was all about the mission: save Henry, save Henry, blah, blah, blah and don't let anything stand in your way.
When he and Neal had been trapped by the shadows in Dark Hollow she had shouted his name, not Neal's. She had expressed relief that he was alright, not Neal. When Neal had slipped off the cliff she had been petrified, but it was Hook she smiled at when Neal was safe, even though it was only fleeting. Hook at the time had taken the moment as being one of thanks, like what had happened in Dark Hollow. Looking back on it now, he shouldn't have been surprised when Emma came to him last night – rather he should have been surprised that it took her so long.
One of the barkeep's came up to him with a pack of ice wrapped in a towel for his face. Honestly, he didn't think he was going to need it; he had a blonde who he was certain, would willingly make him feel better later.
"Still the darling everywhere he goes." His first mate piped up after a few beats, shaking his head with amusement. Hook glanced at him, watching as he chuckled behind his drink.
"Oh shut up." Hook threw the empty bowl of nuts from the table at him.
~88888~
Remember to Review!