Disclaimer: I do not own the show or the characters of Once Upon A Time. There's no profit except writing practice being made here.

Spawned from season 5 rewatch, where David instructs Arthur to drive and gives the explanation: feet for speed, hand for direction. I just thought there was an interesting use of plural and singular that had to be from somewhere. (He was using it on his new brother and bestie but it felt like he was thinking of his other brother and bestie).

David sighed when they walked into Granny's. He had his memories - not the last year, but that didn't matter so much - and he remembered being Emma's father for a substantial period. Sure, she was absent most of that time. But he'd had Henry. David hadn't realised how upset he was about the loss of Henry as his best grandkid until Emma had ushered the boy up the stairs of a flat at Granny's in the pirate's arms and had whispered that he probably shouldn't come closer because he was a stranger to Henry.

A year ago, or only last week depending on his memories, David was the sole carer for Henry, his best bud. He'd struggled with it, having never even been near a child in either of his lives, and he had the town crisis to deal with. Those first few days had not been his best. He'd just lost his wife and daughter. But Henry was his sparring partner, his little prince, and now he didn't even look up when David came near. Emma was his little girl that he'd missed so much of her life, but he had it all far easier than Mary Margaret did. She'd gone from growing the girl beneath her heart to holding her in her arms at age twenty-eight and trying to rectify which side of friend or mother she wanted Emma to see her as. All that work before she was even born, all the love that Snow had offered their unborn babe, had nowhere to go if Emma didn't let her be her mother now. And yet, never did his wife sit idle. She found an avenue even in a curse to show Emma she was loved. David hadn't. They'd barely said four words to each other. He could count their interactions, they were all about Mary Margaret and one was about his murder charge.

Still, he was grateful he hadn't been Emma's friend then. He loved her now, could have easily loved her then too. But he'd watched Mary Margaret struggle to walk that tightrope - cursed after True Love's kiss far worse than she was cursed before. She was better than him, always had been. He couldn't function if Emma looked at him the way she looked at Snow; as if every attempt at being a family was a betrayal of the way they'd treated her before, as if she was second guessing the authenticity of every action. As though she desperately wanted to trust, but couldn't bring herself to forgive. If Mary Margaret was too much a friend to Emma, Emma might never see her as a mother. If she was too much a mother, Emma would push her away. All of them picked their persona - cursed or not - and his wife had picked Mary Margaret; friend to Emma Swan. She'd lost her daughter and found her and lost her because she'd found her and the worst part was that David knew his daughter had a point. She didn't need a mother. They'd missed it all. She'd grown up unwanted and alone, in her mind, she didn't need advice or comfort because she'd never had that before. It broke his heart, but he understood.

Worse, was that he could feel it happening all over again. He and Emma; friends, sheriffing partners, the eager eaters of the family, all undone. He suspected it had everything to do with her being careful not to distance herself from Mary Margaret, never wanting her mother to think her new sibling was the cause of any ill-feelings. Instead, she put distance between herself and him. He could feel it - he wasn't just being paranoid - David was losing his daughter. And his grandson would rather the pirate than him. He was terrified.

Emma was terrified of it too. It was all over her face every time one of their townspeople came near Henry. He'd wake up to memories of a different mother, and the woman he trusted would be revealed to have abandoned him.

Yet, she showed none of it now.

Emma and Henry lived in Granny's now, so meeting the pair in the diner was inconspicuous, even if it was soul-crushing to have them within arms reach but not in the loft like they used to be.

They weren't alone.

They never were.

In the booth under a window sat Emma opposite Henry and Hook beside him, leg outstretched far into the aisle, cocky as ever. (Had David and Mary Margaret walked in from the motel entrance or the jukebox, they would have witnessed an entirely different scene - a pirate balancing precariously on the edge of the bench seat as though he would happily escape it, and indeed the diner altogether, at the slightest chance).

Emma was smiling.

So were Henry, and the pirate who was hiding the expression behind a teacup. Hid it behind a scowl after a flash, too, but David definitely saw it.

David didn't even mind that the pirate was always with them anymore, hadn't minded all that much back in Neverland and probably wouldn't have minded if he'd stayed in the castle with them in the Enchanted Forest; they might have even shared a few drinks. Then again, he might not have talked to Robin half as much had the pirate been around, turning to Hook instead of Hood. Or maybe he'd have a group of friends like his wife did.

"Morning," David called. Hook saluted with his cup.

David and Mary Margaret slid into the booth beside Emma.

"How is everyone?" Mary Margaret asked eagerly.

Henry took a bite of his toast. He never used to be the boy that let the adults talk around him, he used to be so outspoken and upfront. Probably not when Regina had her claws in him - then again he had found his way onto a bus for ten hours and found Emma - so maybe he always was bold and went after what he wanted, just like Regina did. This, this cursed Henry, who looked down at the table when strangers joined them for breakfast, who knew he was loved and didn't have to fight to be heard so didn't insist he had a worthwhile opinion, he wasn't Henry.

"Well," Hook replied when no one else did. It was odd to hear him talk to Mary Margaret without the 'your majesty' tacked on to the end of his sentence - not groveling or condescending, but granting her the title she barely held and wholly deserved. "Young Henry just had his academics that he's missing during his caesura mailed to him."

David blinked at the phrase but discovered it's meaning swiftly. Homework. Emailed, most likely.

"Hey, kid," Emma offered, "Did we tell you that Mary Margaret's a teacher. She can probably help."

Emma's head turned between the two, obviously attempting to to send them a message.

"I thought Killian was going to help me," Henry looked up from his plate where he was assembling a sandwich from his eggs and bacon. "Like last night."

Who was Killian?

Hook put his cup down. "Oh, but it's been such a long time since I was in a class, lad. The lady is in one constantly. She'll know her stuff."

"That makes sense," Henry mumbled. Henry never mumbled.

"It'll be great," Mary Margaret smiled eagerly.

Emma nodded, looking every bit like her mother's daughter. "And that will give us time to go see Regina, and even Belle in the library in on this investigation."

David pursed his lips. Everyone had their own little thing to do. He wasn't upset that he wasn't invited, far from it. But Emma had her magic lessons with Regina and Hook would be with Belle doing research, he was very good at it according to the Dark One's wife. Which would leave him at the sheriff's station alone. Or he could go check on Leroy - the man had left a cryptic message about his boat on the machine in the station late in the evening the day before.

"Well, you two have fun," David kissed Mary Margaret's cheek and had to bite his lip so he didn't reach out to ruffle Henry's hair. "I'll be with Leroy down at the harbour. He said he needed a hand."

"Okay," Mary Margaret smiled serenely.

"Dave?" David felt Killian stand up with him. "A word of our plans for the day?"

"Oh." David looked down at the table where his daughter sat pressed up against the wall. He'd never heard her sound so small. "I thought you were coming with me and Regina." Emma glanced over at Henry. "To Town Hall."

David almost rolled his eyes. Yes, Town Hall made sense for the mayor to be at if Henry was listening. But a moment ago she had mentioned the library, the least she could have done was extend a genuine invitation. What would Hook be doing at Town Hall? Or at Emma's magic lesson?

Then again, it was odd that he actively sought out a different plan than the one Emma was involved in. Typically, the pirate was working with Emma, or only on the other side of town so that he could be helpful, getting the thing or information she'd asked for. It was strange that he was denying her a day together.

Even more surprising was how Emma called after him, not afraid to show that she was shocked by Hook's behaviour, that she didn't like the idea they would be apart.

"Harbour." He shrugged as though that single word and excited smile was explanation enough. As though being on a dock or near the ocean was all he needed in life, as though all he was doing was following the scent of the ocean, simple as that.

Emma shook her head, smiling softly. Affectionately. "Pirate."

Henry immediately whipped his head around from where Mary Margaret had captured his attention with a story about her classroom. "Mum!" he scolded. "You can't just say that about people. It's rude. The man was in the navy."

David felt himself pale.

Did Henry know more about Hook than David did?

Beside him, Hook did not miss a beat. "Ah, lad, remind me to tell you sometime about what I did after the navy."

"Is that when you met my mum?"

"Aye," Hook said easily. "She cuffed me," that seemed true. "Slapped me with a desertion fine." That seemed too modern, but also sort of fit what would have happened. Somehow, for some reason, Hook wasn't a naval officer anymore, he was a pirate. That wasn't a legal endeavour, nor was it something that went unpunished. Punishable by death, David recalled many a deserter on the wanted walls at the taverns. He hardly assumed the kingdoms were more lenient in their earlier years.

"Which he never paid," Emma sighed, sounding entirely put out but almost fond simultaneously.

Hook sent a playful smirk in Emma's direction. "Course not, love. They wronged me. They were the ones who needed to pay."

Henry was watching them closely, a little furrow between his brows. Mary Margaret had the same one only a little deeper on her own face.

"Alright," David sighed, clapping Hook on the shoulder. "No more politics, please. Let's go."

David bent low to kiss his wife's cheek one last time and then turned tail and headed to the exit with Hook by his side.

"Like the other day, when you called him Captain Hook. How insulting?" David heard Henry complain. "He's weird but he's not an irredeemable villain from a storybook."

David caught the look on Hook's face at that. He couldn't have missed it if he had tried. The pirate turned pale, back going almost too stiff for him to be able to take another step. It sounded like he'd sucked in a breath.

Regina had done the same thing once. When Henry had told her he didn't want to see her anymore. She stopped still and tried to pretend that she hadn't but the look in her eyes had shown that her world was falling apart. David supposed that would happen when the kindest-hearted kid in the world, who looked at you with trust, said words that contradicted that expression.

By why did Hook care what Henry thought?

Wordlessly, David and Hook exited the dinner. David honestly hadn't expected the man to come with him. He figured it was just a line. That as soon as they realised he wasn't staying with Henry and Emma, he'd part ways with David and occupy his time on his ship or something. To avoid Emma? To ensure Henry ad time with his grandmother? He wouldn't mind the help at the sheriff's station. Besides, a certified villain and a man who had to be good at keeping his crew loyal and in line might be really helpful to have him by his side.

What happened instead was that wood tapped at his elbow and David turned immediately, more curious than afraid. He knew the pirate's tells, he wasn't difficult to read; something that amused him greatly because surely a ruthless captain of the high seas would have to be able to bluff brilliantly. Hook was scarred. What really made David's skin prickle, was that he wasn't hiding it with a flirty line that would make someone angry enough to turn away. Or seeking out Emma.

David made his way to his car. Fine by him, a man who was good with boats would be handy to have around if Leroy needed help with his boat.

"Will you teach me?"

David frowned at the vague gesture of the wooden hand. The man looked so different without it. Surely it wasn't functional, it didn't even look like it could bend into a fist. "Sorry?"

"Your vehicle," Hook tried to clarify.

David's frown deepened.

Honestly, he'd thought that Emma would do the driving and Hook would do the sailing and they'd never encroach on the other's thing. It always was so lovely when he could just sit and watch Snow in her element; archery or diplomacy or mothering or any number of other things she was good at. She was brilliant, his wife.

"Oh." Now he sounded like his daughter. "Why?"

He had a license, of course, but he didn't remember getting it, or taking a course. It was part of his cursed memories, just like everyone in this town but Emma. Did Emma have a license? A real one? Or had she fakes one for herself and learnt in the fly?

The pirate was quick, barely hesitating and his eyes didn't even drift leftwards in the lie. Yet David could read the fiction clear as day on the man's face when he said: "Perhaps we can leave the town's borders swiftly, outrun the monsters as it were."

"Right." He didn't believe Hook, and he could see that Hook knew it. What, did he think Emma was going back to New York and he was going with her? Did he think he could drive Emma and Henry away from the danger? Surely Emma wouldn't leave before the fight was done. Only, David wasn't sure what she wanted to do after that.

David climbed into the passenger side. Hook remained standing at the fence of Granny's.

"Well," he called. "Get in."

David took the pirate to the other side of town - away from the woods, just in case that's where Emma and Regina practised magic like they had a few days before, and out of sight from the townspeople so that no one would get hurt, no property would be damaged, and no one would ever know what they were doing.

Only then did the two men swapped seats. When David buckled himself in on the passenger side, he noticed that Hook had unscrewed his wooden hand and was tucking it into his jacket, swapping it for his deadly namesake. That wasn't going to make steering any easier, but it might make the man more comfortable, so David said nothing of it.

"Alright," David clapped his hands, trying to remember how he learnt to drive in his false memories and how he taught Henry just over a week ago. "So you put your hands at ten and two."

"David," Hook chuckled, a patronising but not an insulting sound. "I steered a ship since I was six and my brother taught me when my father wasn't looking. I think you'll find that I understand the act of holding the wheel."

David found himself laughing at that. He couldn't imagine the man as a boy. Or being so used to an activity because it had been your pastime for nearly three hundred years, or how Hook had managed to continue doing it after the famed brother - who's death had saved David's life - had died.

"Sure," David relented, "but it's not like a ship. You have to hold the wheel at all times."

"Aye." Hook's knuckles rounded the wheel easily, even though it was a completely foreign shape to the wheels he was accustomed to. The hook curved around the top of the circle and then slid down the side of it like Hook couldn't keep it there. David almost made a comment about how they shouldn't do this, not until they fitted the car with one of those single-handed devices for drivers who could only use the one hand. He almost said they'd call Emma and sort out a way for Hook to find a car like that.

But he didn't want to make the man feel inadequate, so David gave the next instruction. "Then you have to move the stick behind the wheel."

But you have to hold the wheel at all times, hung in the air in the body of the truck between the two men.

"Emma's car might be easier to do this in," David said quickly, "Her gears are in the centre console, not there. Or we could get a European car."

Hook didn't seem to think the same thing was necessary, reaching under the wheel well to turn the key, and then flicking the gear stick.

"Drive," David instructed, "It'll come up right there as a little D. P for Park. D for Drive."

"R for Reverse," Hook finished, "I watched Emma on the drive here. Bloody amazing invention to go backwards with such ease."

"Right, so," David cast his eyes forward, "Then you've probably seen the action." You better not have seen it. That would mean you were looking at my daughter's legs. "You move your feet to makes us go and stop. The harder you press, the faster we'll go or stop."

"Aye, so the mechanism you're foot is on now is the anchor, and the other will make us accelerate?"

"Exactly."

"You can move your foot then."

"Right."

Before David knew it, they were inching forward, following the lines on the road. David hadn't even explained what the lines meant and he would have bet that Emma hadn't explained either. Still, Hook seemed to know exactly what the double yellows meant and kept the car perfectly between the edge line and the doubles.

David was amazed by the entire thing. With Henry, he'd been terrified and laughing and Henry had been so joyous the entire time, even when they were crashing. Hook was serious, tongue poking between his lips and everything as he concentrated on what he was doing. He went slowly, carefully, like he was really trying to learn the skill, memorise the actions, and David sat back comfortably in his seat, perfectly content to have his life in the pirate's hands.

"Great, so let's turn around. So shift your hands," Dammit. He really had to be more careful, more sensitive.

He acted like it meant nothing, pretending he didn't even hear what David said, but David knew it had been his third - fourth - blunder of the trip, but David couldn't imagine that it didn't hurt every time Hook was reminded of what he was missing. He hoped that maybe David not realising his mistake showed that he didn't think of the pirate as any less, or any less capable, because he was missing his hand, but he didn't think that was a good enough reason not to apologise or explain himself.

He didn't get to. Instead, he watched, fascinated, as Hook's hook slid over the wheel from where it rested, curving over the arm that connected to the circle to the centre of the wheel, using the metal to turn the wheel.

"Perfect."

"Great," Hook smiled over at him. "Now, we were heading to the harbour, aye?"

David frowned but nodded. A ten minute drive to find the perfect isolated spot and then under twenty minutes to teach the pirate. That wasn't nearly enough. And yet, Hook seemed to be taking to it like - well, like a pirate to sailing.

"Then I can teach you of hoisting a sail and tying mooring lines."

David grinned back at the pirate. He was inherently unlikeable because he had eyes for David's daughter, and morally, David wasn't meant to like him except that the only side of the story David had ever heard was rumour and speculation, never from a victim or the pirate himself. He was good people, all in all. David wouldn't mind learning a thing or two from him.

Their second lesson wasn't for a little while.

They were all in the forest, still in shock after Regina defeated the snow monster and Emma had left to follow her, to talk some sense and maybe some light back into the Evil Queen. If anyone knew about the betrayal of honour, then the girl whose parents had given her up to save the kingdom, and the man who left to avoid his father and the quasi-brother who convinced him to do it so that she would find her destiny, who had already abandoned her so he could have a life that wasn't tied to caring for her, would be able to get through to Regina.

David liked the pirate less now; he had to, as a father. But he liked Hook more, too. His boat was oddly missing from the harbour but he'd stopped taking others out for joyrides with Henry, he said something to make Emma stay in town, he made Emma smile too. She tried to hide it, only letting her lips quirk up when no one was looking, but she was so much softer now, more confident, happier.

Emma had driven Hook here in the heat of the chase. He'd encouraged her to use her magic, and then David had had to shut his eyes when the pirate walked up to the Savior, swaying far too close for his liking and smiling far too wide. And then she'd left him in the trees with the others.

Hook had David's sympathies and a clap on the shoulder to articulate it. He remembered Snow being exactly the same, a little less guarded than Emma was, but she reacted the same way, distancing herself when her feelings were too strong for her to deal with.

"Want to drive back to Granny's for me?" David asked. Maybe a little manual labour, something akin to steering his ship, might distract Hook from what would be easily misinterpreted as a fight or a rejection. David, of course, knew better. He knew Emma, he knew her mother, and he knew that that kiss he wished he hadn't seen wasn't either of those, but he remembered the man in Neverland. He felt so strongly and he hid none of it.

"It'll be good practice. Might even be nice for you to drive her on your date."

Hook shook his head. "We are not courting."

David knew all about that too, stealing kisses and moments but not labelling anything new for safety from punishment and rumour and backlash. But he'd been engaged, and later trying not to earn disregard for either him or Snow from their small band of dwarves and a handful of followers. He even remembered doing something similar to hide his and Kathryn's relationship from the scrutiny of her friends before they knew they were steady and moved to the small town in Maine. Those were false memories but the point remained.

David nudged the pirate's shoulder with his own. The man had climbed a cliff-face one handed just so that he could provide David with a cure he didn't want, to a poison he hadn't told anyone about, all so that Emma wouldn't become the lost girl she thought she was.

They weren't courting, and David thanked all the gods he could remember his mother teaching him about for that. But he wasn't so naive as to think it would never happen. He'd been there when Henry was Pan and Hook had looked back at Emma when they left in their respective groups to save them. David had been there when Neal was overeager and brushed off Emma's concerns about her son and Emma was still hurt by him for which she still hadn't explained and offended he was so outwardly interested in being a father but didn't act like it except in his words. He'd been there when Emma's eyes had lit up and dimmed when she told them that Hook brought her back.

"I'd rather not presume," Hook shrugged.

They were inevitable.

"Drive us to Granny's, Hook," David insisted. "We'll pick up Henry and take him for fish and chips on the harbour."

"Aye," surprise coloured the pirate's features. "Sounds brilliant."

"Now, quick recap," David said as they buckled in - Killian insisting on it, not him. Something about the brilliant contraption for safety being available, why would they squander or ignore it. "Hand for steering. Left foot for stopping. This time you're going to put your foot down on the right pedal more and we'll go faster."

David got behind the wheel of his truck, talking Arthur - King Arthur! - through the simple latch mechanism of the door. "You open it like a chest."

It was then, of course, that all hell broke loose and David quickly ran through his options in his mind. David Nolan knew the legends of course, everybody did, and David, son of selfless Ruth and a drunkard father knew the story of the sword and the stone and the king who was fated. Diplomatic and loyal, were the prevailing traits. David knew nothing of the man's fighting skills - men with armies typically had none.

Before he had time to second guess himself, David was sliding across the bench seat in the truck and waiting for the window to roll down.

"Take over!" He yelled over the racing wind in his ears, urging the king to slide across the seat, watching him take the wheel in his hand, gripping it just like David was before David let go and ducked his head through the gap of the window.

"Speed is feet, direction is hand."

It was only after the jolting car trip - Arthur found the gas easily enough and seemed not to understand why acceleration was bad. He didn't understand David yelling only one foot needed to work the car, or that he shouldn't be mindless and idle with the wheel - where David thought he might break his hips on the window frame or vomit, or die impaled on a tree branch, that David slipped into the driver's seat and shut the car off with a desperately relieved breath. It was only after that breath that he realised how easy his first student had been - fully aware of how dangerous a car was and insisting on David being right there to work the pedals and fix the steering - and how quick his second was.

It was only after her slumped in his seat, neither of them buckled in, his hands shaking as he started the car again, that he realised his one sentence instruction may have worked well enough in a centuries old man who seemed to learn faster than anyone David had ever met, Belle included, and had all the foundational knowledge from steering bigger vessels as opposed to Arthur who had never even been on a ship, could never have been a good instruction to a novice.

He wasn't a good teacher. He just had perfectly intelligent, careful students who were very familiar with the action of steering and how necessary careful speed regulation was.

He never wanted to teach anyone to drive ever again. He just wanted to kiss his wife until his hands stopped shaking and then hold his son to his chest while Killian and he planned on how they could get their Emma back and Henry did his homework at the table with them. (That's what they'd tell Mary Margaret he was doing).