OUAT Oneshot: Rich Eyes, Poor Hands
Title: Rich Eyes, Poor Hands
by jesterlady
Pairing: Emma/Killian
Rating: PG
Summary: Emma and Killian discuss his hook and why he still has it
Disclaimer: I don't own OUAT. The title is by William Shakespeare
A/N: Never in my wildest dreams did I think I'd be writing OUAT fic, but here it is. This couple has captured my fancy unlike any have in a long time. (I think their huge similarity to Spike and Buffy is giving me closure on the happy ending I'd wanted for Spuffy). Anyway...this combines a lot of feelings I have about them and their relationship and resolves little things I want to see for them.
Rich Eyes, Poor Hands
Emma sipped her hot chocolate with cinnamon appreciatively, perched on a stool next to the island in the kitchen. Killian was next to her, sprawled across half of it as he scribbled notes on a pad of paper. His penmanship was a careful, curling script, different than how she’d expect a pirate’s to be, but also fitting for someone who’d learned a very long time ago. She watched him fondly as he muttered to himself, his hair falling across his forehead. She wanted to brush it back for him, but she didn’t want to disturb him and they had just spent a rather blissful two hours spread out on a blanket in front of the fireplace wherein she’d gotten to touch as much of him as she could.
Henry was spending the night at Regina’s and even though Emma missed him when he was gone, she had to admit it was a lot easier for her and Killian to spend time together when he was. His presence was still here though as Killian was currently occupied in copying down star charts from memory for Henry’s school project on navigation in the Enchanted Forest. She’d been thrilled when Henry had told her about the project, especially at the pleased look on Killian’s face when Henry had asked him to help.
She couldn’t help but be grateful that her son and husband got along so well. They’d certainly had an interesting relationship. In the beginning she was fairly certain as far as Henry was concerned, Killian was just the angry pirate who had attempted to kill his grandfather and then sailed to Neverland to help rescue him. Then instantly Henry had forgotten Captain Hook ever existed, as had she.
But when Killian had come to New York to collect them and Henry hadn’t gotten his memories back right away, it had proven to be a good starting place for a relationship between them. After all, Killian had been fumbling to find his new place in Storybrooke and to prove himself to be the best choice for her heart. Henry had been one of his ways to start and, naturally, her son had been delighted to befriend an exciting stranger who taught him about sailing and cheating with loaded die and who looked dangerous and somehow knew his father. As Regina had so sarcastically said, Killian was just the sort of person a twelve year old boy would like. So much so Henry had trusted Killian to get him safely away from Storybrooke when Henry had tried to run back to New York.
Granted, he’d gotten his memories back right after that and a new caution had entered into her observations of their interactions. Henry had remembered who Hook was and what he’d done and he’d remembered his own father and had to relive the death, not only of the man himself, but of the possibility of his parents ever being together. Emma could tell that had been hard for him and that he’d had to push through his own feelings in order to convince her to give Killian a chance.
Yet it hadn’t stopped him from tirelessly working with Killian on finding the perfect home for them all to live in as a surprise for her or in trusting any version of him to save Emma when Isaac had trapped them all in the book. It hadn’t stopped him from not hesitating to follow her into the Underworld itself to save Killian. The two of them had helped each other deal with her being the Dark One and with her visions of dying. It was Henry who had somehow convinced Killian that he shouldn’t use the shears to save her. It was Henry who stood up as best man for Killian at their wedding and reminded her of who she was and who she loved when the Black Fairy had threatened everything they had built.
Now, even when things were mostly quiet in Storybrooke, she often found the two of them arguing over the validity of Poptarts for breakfast or out on the Jolly tying sailing knots or sword fighting in the front yard. She was grateful that even though Henry didn’t have his father anymore, he had Killian.
She was grateful to have him herself. She’d told Killian this before, but sometimes she had to stop and feel anew the surprise of being so happy and having someone she could let through her walls. She watched him now, brow furrowed in concentration, hook holding the paper in place, the firelight dancing off the metal and casting flickers of light on his face.
She focused on the hook for a moment, remembering with slight blushes how it had felt on her skin only a short while before. There was something about that hook, something she didn’t know how to explain. It was iconic certainly and a huge part of what made Killian who he was, but it somehow fit him, felt like it was more a part of him than a hand would be. She remembered the feel of his two hands holding her so briefly, but it was overshadowed by the many times his hook had deftly caught her and pulled her back to him.
She liked to tease him about it and how he used it for everything he could, but she was constantly amazed at how useful it could be and how easily he navigated life with it, using it to fight, to eat, to carry things, even to write on occasion. She’d never seen him accidentally hurt anyone even though they had joked together that whenever they had children, they’d have to baby proof his hook. In fact the only time she could remember him being clumsy with it was when Henry was first trying to teach him how to play video games. Even now, he’d never be truly proficient, but he could at least use it to push the buttons on the controller, if not use the joystick.
Sometimes she wondered though about how he really felt about it and if he’d rather have his hand back. Especially when she remembered that he’d done so before.
He sighed and put down the pen for a moment so she risked interrupting him.
“Can I ask you something?” she asked.
“Hmm, what’s that, love?” he answered absently and she could tell he wasn’t really paying attention.
“Why didn’t you give yourself your hand back?” she said, more to bring him in to the conversation than to be tactless.
He blinked a few times before seeming to focus on her.
“When?” he finally asked, but she could tell by his tone he knew what she was referring to.
It made her pause and wish she hadn’t started so bluntly.
“Sorry,” she said hastily. “Back when you were the…the Dark One, why didn’t you get your hand back? You knew he had it, you knew it could be done. I just…wondered, cause you had tried to get it back before our date but then it didn’t last and I didn’t ask at the time but then after that I knew Gold had your heart so that made me wonder if he’d made you give your hand up again and we never really talked about that and I’m sorry for this abrupt and sore subject of conversation.”
“Careful, Swan, you’re digging awfully fast,” he said, sounding more amused than pained, which is really what she had been going for with her rambling words.
“We don’t really have to talk about it,” she offered.
He looked away for a moment as if considering before returning his gaze to her.
“As painful as these subjects can be,” he said, reaching over and squeezing her hand with his, “we promised each other no more secrets and it’s about time this one came to the light.”
“Secret?” she asked, suddenly worried she’d opened up a topic of conversation she might not be ready for, let alone him.
“It’s no secret my past is a shameful one,” he said in a low voice. “It would take quite a while to unburden all of my sins, I’m afraid.”
“Well, to be fair, you have lived longer and had more time to accumulate them,” she said with a smile.
He barked a short laugh.
“Aye.” He straightened up and cleared his throat. “Emma, I wanted to get my hand back because I wanted you to have a man who could hold you, could show you your worth with all of him. So I went to the crocodile and demanded my hand. But I never told you he gave it to me because I tried to blackmail him. I knew he hadn’t really given Belle the dagger and threatened to tell her. Using her for my own means again, another mark against my deeds with that lass.”
“Killian,” Emma began, but he shook his head, stopping her.
“He warned me that I might find my hand hard to control since it hadn’t changed along with me; it belonged to the man I used to be. I thought that nonsense and blithely went to our date, but our encounter with the thief and later, when I found myself pummeling him in front of the library, made me believe the Dark One might have been right. So I went to him and tried to get my hook back, threatening him again. Yet this time he refused and demanded I make a deal with him first.” Killian swallowed before continuing. “That was when the old man went into the hat. I didn’t know it would happen when we went, but I still became a part of that bastard’s actions. He gave me my hook back but he had evidence showing I was present, blackmailing me, and I found myself in service to my sworn enemy for fear you’d not be able to look past my black deeds and for shame because I had renewed the darkness in myself.”
“So when did he take your heart?” she asked, trying to keep her tone even, her mind racing as she tried to recall everything that had happened during that time.
“When your magic was blooming and you tried to be rid of it; I learned he was trying to trap you in that bloody hat and I called you, confessed it all. But he took my heart and erased my message and you know all that happened, what he made me do until after the shattering spell. Till you rescued my heart,” he ended, a shadow of his normal smirk on his face.
“I always will,” she said gallantly. “So your hand could be put back and it was just him playing with your mind or do you really have evil hand issues?”
“I gather the former,” he said. “The Dark One played on my insecurities, my fear I couldn’t fight the darkness inside of me. He gloated, telling me that he’d done me a favor by reminding me that I was a ruthless pirate who would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. It made me fear I could never redeem myself to be worthy of anything.”
“I hope you believe now you can,” she said.
“Well, that brings us to your real question, Swan,” he said wryly. “Because we both know I couldn’t fight the darkness when it was given to me.”
“When I forced it on you,” she corrected sharply, guilt rising in her again.
He didn’t argue with her but he didn’t agree with her either.
“We’ve both many atrocities to atone for during that time, love,” he said quietly, his fingers twitching as they were wont to do when he was upset.
“I know,” she said just as quietly.
“But we don’t need to dwell on your actions,” he said, smiling wanly. “Why didn’t I get my hand back? Well, what need did Captain Hook have of a hand, I ask? It was fitting in my mind to go to the crocodile and demand he duel me at dawn, parading my hook in front of him, daring him to deny what he’d done to me. The machinations of my mind were not focused on long term plans, but immediate revenge and carnage. The darkness took care of the rest and since you stopped me-”
“Since you stopped yourself,” she interrupted because she thought it was important.
He conceded her point with a nod.
“Since we attempted to destroy the darkness together right after that and I died, well, it was a bit late then. And, thus, my tale is ended.”
Emma nodded and tried to process what he’d told her. She couldn’t deny hearing what he’d said was upsetting, but no less than hearing he’d murdered her own grandfather had been. She’d long ago accepted that his past was something they both wished didn’t have to be and that didn’t just mean the past before she’d met him. She regretted that she hadn’t thought to press more about what had happened to him back when Belle had saved him and forced Gold to leave town, but she’d just been so relieved that her magic was under control and she’d been settling into this new idea of dating Captain Hook and life had been so peaceful for six weeks before the queens of darkness had rolled into town.
“Is it too late now?” she finally asked, forcing herself back to the matter she’d brought up in the first place.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“I have magic,” she said bluntly. “Your hand is in Gold’s shop. He has…finally turned over a new leaf for real.” Killian snorted but didn’t say anything. “We could get your hand and I could put it back on for you.”
Killian was quiet, but while he rubbed his fingers together and clenched his jaw, she could practically hear him collating his answer.
“What do you think?” he finally asked.
She shook her head.
“No, you’re not putting this on me, Captain.” She leaned forward and put her hands on his arm. “This has to be your choice because it’s your life. Don’t make it based on what you think I want or what’s best for the world. What do you want?”
“Your points are intertwined, love,” he said. “The best part about being married to you is that now our lives are joined and what I want affects you and vice versa. At this point in life any decision I make has to at least consider what you want.”
“I guess you’re right,” she admitted. “And I don’t want you to think that I don’t care or that we aren’t a team, but I just want to know what’s going on in your head since ultimately, this affects you more than me.”
“I submit to your logic, Swan,” he said, inclining his head. “Sometimes, sometimes, yes, I would like my hand and I’m no longer worried about it arousing evil inclinations within me. Our life together is the only impetus I need to keep walking down my current path.”
“Only sometimes?” she prompted when he didn’t continue.
He straightened again and slid in behind her, wrapping his arms around her, the hook resting gently on her waist, but his hand splayed on the island in front of her next to her hot chocolate.
“Do you remember when I told you about my rings?” he asked.
“After I didn’t actually save your life for the second time,” she said somewhat bitterly.
“Hush, lass,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I told you they were a reminder for me that all sins can be forgiven when someone loves you.”
“I guess your hook would be the ultimate reminder,” she said, sensing where he was going.
“Aye,” he said. “For better or worse, love, I am Captain Hook. Given that road eventually led me to you sometimes I can’t even bring myself to be sorry for that. But, yes, the hook reminds me every day that I am becoming the man I want to be. I’m not there yet, not sure if I ever will get there, but every day is a new beginning.”
“I can accept that,” she said, putting her hand over his and stroked his wedding band. “I like this ring and its reminder better.”
“That do I,” he said.
“But, Killian,” she said, swiveling to look at him. “If you ever change your mind or if you want to do a trial period or anything like that…well, all you have to do is ask.”
“Thank you, love,” he said, smiling down at her and then dropped a quick kiss to her forehead.
“I kind of like the hook anyway,” she admitted.
“I’ve noticed,” he said, his hand shifting to her waist.
“Are you sure you don’t like it because it makes you feel like a sexy pirate?” she asked, turning all the way to face him and grabbing the item in question, while he stepped naturally between her legs.
“Or is that why you like it?” he asked, smirking.
“You don’t seem to mind when I call you Hook,” she said, smiling.
“I am Captain Hook, Swan,” he said. “I believe I just reminded you of that fact. Poncy red-coated git villains aside.”
Emma laughed because she would always remember fondly the day she had shown Killian Peter Pan. He’d grumbled and muttered under his breath nearly the whole time, sometimes crying out things like: “I’ll have you know Tinkerbelle came to me that night!” Or “The whole Tiger Lily Skull Rock scenario has been taken entirely out of context.”
He’d watched that entire sequence with his mouth open in outrage the whole time.
When the movie was over he’d turned to her with a beseeching face and said.
“Emma love, you have to promise me the crocodile never sees this.”
Barely able to contain her laughter she’d replied.
“I’m sorry, Captain, but I’m afraid you missed the boat on that one. See, Gold was cursed for 28 years with false memories. Pretty sure in his mind, he saw that in the theater.”
He’d settled back in dismay before turning to her again.
“Smee then?”
“Same thing,” she said.
He’d folded his arms grumpily before mumbling.
“At least I’m sure bloody Pan never got to see it.”
That she hadn’t been able to argue with, pretty sure that communications with the home office had never included video transmissions.
But he’d never gotten over it and glared balefully every time someone like Regina or Henry brought it up. He liked other adaptations like Hook better (despite visible shame during the scene where Rufio died), and he’d gone out on the Jolly for a long afternoon of ‘personal reflection, love,’ after he’d actually read Peter and Wendy, but he was always somewhat dissatisfied with how he was portrayed.
Even now he was simmering silently and she reached up to grab his neck, bending it down for his lips to meet hers.
“We both know that when I call you Hook I’m thinking of the rogue pirate who took me up a beanstalk and couldn’t stop staring at my ass.”
“Who was and still is devilishly handsome, a most delightful scoundrel,” he amended, hand edging under her shirt.
“Who I am very happy brought one chest with him when he moved in that contained his leather coat and vests, especially the red one, and leather pants,” she said, and that was most definitely the truth.
She’d been glad he finally felt comfortable enough to find more modern clothing that was still within his style; it had certainly taken him longer than any other fairytale character she’d met. But whenever he did put on his full pirate regalia, she was instantly reminded by the lurch in her stomach that the looks she admired on a daily basis were greatly enhanced by obvious pirate accoutrements. It was also why she was extremely glad he still took great care to apply kohl every day. His eyes and his jewelry and the hook served to remind her, he would always be her pirate.
“Did you need a demonstration?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“My very own pirate fashion show?” she hummed. “I could get behind the idea.”
“I promised the lad I’d have that done for him tomorrow afternoon,” Killian mumbled into her neck.
“And how much time do you need?” she asked, pressing more firmly against him.
He hesitated while she kissed him again
“Not that much,” he said, suddenly hoisting her on the counter and urging her legs to wrap around his waist.
She submitted to it gladly, letting him carry her toward the stairs while she focused on kissing him.
She didn’t think she’d ever get tired of this, of being so connected to another human being that intimate conversations about the deepest parts of their past could segue so smoothly into intimacy of a far more physical kind.
She would have more thoughts about the things he’d told her later, but for right now, she was glad she’d asked and that he’d answered and that they could move forward in their lives, together and with Henry, secure in their paths as pirate and savior, taking whatever the future held as it came.
by jesterlady
Pairing: Emma/Killian
Rating: PG
Summary: Emma and Killian discuss his hook and why he still has it
Disclaimer: I don't own OUAT. The title is by William Shakespeare
A/N: Never in my wildest dreams did I think I'd be writing OUAT fic, but here it is. This couple has captured my fancy unlike any have in a long time. (I think their huge similarity to Spike and Buffy is giving me closure on the happy ending I'd wanted for Spuffy). Anyway...this combines a lot of feelings I have about them and their relationship and resolves little things I want to see for them.
Rich Eyes, Poor Hands
Emma sipped her hot chocolate with cinnamon appreciatively, perched on a stool next to the island in the kitchen. Killian was next to her, sprawled across half of it as he scribbled notes on a pad of paper. His penmanship was a careful, curling script, different than how she’d expect a pirate’s to be, but also fitting for someone who’d learned a very long time ago. She watched him fondly as he muttered to himself, his hair falling across his forehead. She wanted to brush it back for him, but she didn’t want to disturb him and they had just spent a rather blissful two hours spread out on a blanket in front of the fireplace wherein she’d gotten to touch as much of him as she could.
Henry was spending the night at Regina’s and even though Emma missed him when he was gone, she had to admit it was a lot easier for her and Killian to spend time together when he was. His presence was still here though as Killian was currently occupied in copying down star charts from memory for Henry’s school project on navigation in the Enchanted Forest. She’d been thrilled when Henry had told her about the project, especially at the pleased look on Killian’s face when Henry had asked him to help.
She couldn’t help but be grateful that her son and husband got along so well. They’d certainly had an interesting relationship. In the beginning she was fairly certain as far as Henry was concerned, Killian was just the angry pirate who had attempted to kill his grandfather and then sailed to Neverland to help rescue him. Then instantly Henry had forgotten Captain Hook ever existed, as had she.
But when Killian had come to New York to collect them and Henry hadn’t gotten his memories back right away, it had proven to be a good starting place for a relationship between them. After all, Killian had been fumbling to find his new place in Storybrooke and to prove himself to be the best choice for her heart. Henry had been one of his ways to start and, naturally, her son had been delighted to befriend an exciting stranger who taught him about sailing and cheating with loaded die and who looked dangerous and somehow knew his father. As Regina had so sarcastically said, Killian was just the sort of person a twelve year old boy would like. So much so Henry had trusted Killian to get him safely away from Storybrooke when Henry had tried to run back to New York.
Granted, he’d gotten his memories back right after that and a new caution had entered into her observations of their interactions. Henry had remembered who Hook was and what he’d done and he’d remembered his own father and had to relive the death, not only of the man himself, but of the possibility of his parents ever being together. Emma could tell that had been hard for him and that he’d had to push through his own feelings in order to convince her to give Killian a chance.
Yet it hadn’t stopped him from tirelessly working with Killian on finding the perfect home for them all to live in as a surprise for her or in trusting any version of him to save Emma when Isaac had trapped them all in the book. It hadn’t stopped him from not hesitating to follow her into the Underworld itself to save Killian. The two of them had helped each other deal with her being the Dark One and with her visions of dying. It was Henry who had somehow convinced Killian that he shouldn’t use the shears to save her. It was Henry who stood up as best man for Killian at their wedding and reminded her of who she was and who she loved when the Black Fairy had threatened everything they had built.
Now, even when things were mostly quiet in Storybrooke, she often found the two of them arguing over the validity of Poptarts for breakfast or out on the Jolly tying sailing knots or sword fighting in the front yard. She was grateful that even though Henry didn’t have his father anymore, he had Killian.
She was grateful to have him herself. She’d told Killian this before, but sometimes she had to stop and feel anew the surprise of being so happy and having someone she could let through her walls. She watched him now, brow furrowed in concentration, hook holding the paper in place, the firelight dancing off the metal and casting flickers of light on his face.
She focused on the hook for a moment, remembering with slight blushes how it had felt on her skin only a short while before. There was something about that hook, something she didn’t know how to explain. It was iconic certainly and a huge part of what made Killian who he was, but it somehow fit him, felt like it was more a part of him than a hand would be. She remembered the feel of his two hands holding her so briefly, but it was overshadowed by the many times his hook had deftly caught her and pulled her back to him.
She liked to tease him about it and how he used it for everything he could, but she was constantly amazed at how useful it could be and how easily he navigated life with it, using it to fight, to eat, to carry things, even to write on occasion. She’d never seen him accidentally hurt anyone even though they had joked together that whenever they had children, they’d have to baby proof his hook. In fact the only time she could remember him being clumsy with it was when Henry was first trying to teach him how to play video games. Even now, he’d never be truly proficient, but he could at least use it to push the buttons on the controller, if not use the joystick.
Sometimes she wondered though about how he really felt about it and if he’d rather have his hand back. Especially when she remembered that he’d done so before.
He sighed and put down the pen for a moment so she risked interrupting him.
“Can I ask you something?” she asked.
“Hmm, what’s that, love?” he answered absently and she could tell he wasn’t really paying attention.
“Why didn’t you give yourself your hand back?” she said, more to bring him in to the conversation than to be tactless.
He blinked a few times before seeming to focus on her.
“When?” he finally asked, but she could tell by his tone he knew what she was referring to.
It made her pause and wish she hadn’t started so bluntly.
“Sorry,” she said hastily. “Back when you were the…the Dark One, why didn’t you get your hand back? You knew he had it, you knew it could be done. I just…wondered, cause you had tried to get it back before our date but then it didn’t last and I didn’t ask at the time but then after that I knew Gold had your heart so that made me wonder if he’d made you give your hand up again and we never really talked about that and I’m sorry for this abrupt and sore subject of conversation.”
“Careful, Swan, you’re digging awfully fast,” he said, sounding more amused than pained, which is really what she had been going for with her rambling words.
“We don’t really have to talk about it,” she offered.
He looked away for a moment as if considering before returning his gaze to her.
“As painful as these subjects can be,” he said, reaching over and squeezing her hand with his, “we promised each other no more secrets and it’s about time this one came to the light.”
“Secret?” she asked, suddenly worried she’d opened up a topic of conversation she might not be ready for, let alone him.
“It’s no secret my past is a shameful one,” he said in a low voice. “It would take quite a while to unburden all of my sins, I’m afraid.”
“Well, to be fair, you have lived longer and had more time to accumulate them,” she said with a smile.
He barked a short laugh.
“Aye.” He straightened up and cleared his throat. “Emma, I wanted to get my hand back because I wanted you to have a man who could hold you, could show you your worth with all of him. So I went to the crocodile and demanded my hand. But I never told you he gave it to me because I tried to blackmail him. I knew he hadn’t really given Belle the dagger and threatened to tell her. Using her for my own means again, another mark against my deeds with that lass.”
“Killian,” Emma began, but he shook his head, stopping her.
“He warned me that I might find my hand hard to control since it hadn’t changed along with me; it belonged to the man I used to be. I thought that nonsense and blithely went to our date, but our encounter with the thief and later, when I found myself pummeling him in front of the library, made me believe the Dark One might have been right. So I went to him and tried to get my hook back, threatening him again. Yet this time he refused and demanded I make a deal with him first.” Killian swallowed before continuing. “That was when the old man went into the hat. I didn’t know it would happen when we went, but I still became a part of that bastard’s actions. He gave me my hook back but he had evidence showing I was present, blackmailing me, and I found myself in service to my sworn enemy for fear you’d not be able to look past my black deeds and for shame because I had renewed the darkness in myself.”
“So when did he take your heart?” she asked, trying to keep her tone even, her mind racing as she tried to recall everything that had happened during that time.
“When your magic was blooming and you tried to be rid of it; I learned he was trying to trap you in that bloody hat and I called you, confessed it all. But he took my heart and erased my message and you know all that happened, what he made me do until after the shattering spell. Till you rescued my heart,” he ended, a shadow of his normal smirk on his face.
“I always will,” she said gallantly. “So your hand could be put back and it was just him playing with your mind or do you really have evil hand issues?”
“I gather the former,” he said. “The Dark One played on my insecurities, my fear I couldn’t fight the darkness inside of me. He gloated, telling me that he’d done me a favor by reminding me that I was a ruthless pirate who would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. It made me fear I could never redeem myself to be worthy of anything.”
“I hope you believe now you can,” she said.
“Well, that brings us to your real question, Swan,” he said wryly. “Because we both know I couldn’t fight the darkness when it was given to me.”
“When I forced it on you,” she corrected sharply, guilt rising in her again.
He didn’t argue with her but he didn’t agree with her either.
“We’ve both many atrocities to atone for during that time, love,” he said quietly, his fingers twitching as they were wont to do when he was upset.
“I know,” she said just as quietly.
“But we don’t need to dwell on your actions,” he said, smiling wanly. “Why didn’t I get my hand back? Well, what need did Captain Hook have of a hand, I ask? It was fitting in my mind to go to the crocodile and demand he duel me at dawn, parading my hook in front of him, daring him to deny what he’d done to me. The machinations of my mind were not focused on long term plans, but immediate revenge and carnage. The darkness took care of the rest and since you stopped me-”
“Since you stopped yourself,” she interrupted because she thought it was important.
He conceded her point with a nod.
“Since we attempted to destroy the darkness together right after that and I died, well, it was a bit late then. And, thus, my tale is ended.”
Emma nodded and tried to process what he’d told her. She couldn’t deny hearing what he’d said was upsetting, but no less than hearing he’d murdered her own grandfather had been. She’d long ago accepted that his past was something they both wished didn’t have to be and that didn’t just mean the past before she’d met him. She regretted that she hadn’t thought to press more about what had happened to him back when Belle had saved him and forced Gold to leave town, but she’d just been so relieved that her magic was under control and she’d been settling into this new idea of dating Captain Hook and life had been so peaceful for six weeks before the queens of darkness had rolled into town.
“Is it too late now?” she finally asked, forcing herself back to the matter she’d brought up in the first place.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“I have magic,” she said bluntly. “Your hand is in Gold’s shop. He has…finally turned over a new leaf for real.” Killian snorted but didn’t say anything. “We could get your hand and I could put it back on for you.”
Killian was quiet, but while he rubbed his fingers together and clenched his jaw, she could practically hear him collating his answer.
“What do you think?” he finally asked.
She shook her head.
“No, you’re not putting this on me, Captain.” She leaned forward and put her hands on his arm. “This has to be your choice because it’s your life. Don’t make it based on what you think I want or what’s best for the world. What do you want?”
“Your points are intertwined, love,” he said. “The best part about being married to you is that now our lives are joined and what I want affects you and vice versa. At this point in life any decision I make has to at least consider what you want.”
“I guess you’re right,” she admitted. “And I don’t want you to think that I don’t care or that we aren’t a team, but I just want to know what’s going on in your head since ultimately, this affects you more than me.”
“I submit to your logic, Swan,” he said, inclining his head. “Sometimes, sometimes, yes, I would like my hand and I’m no longer worried about it arousing evil inclinations within me. Our life together is the only impetus I need to keep walking down my current path.”
“Only sometimes?” she prompted when he didn’t continue.
He straightened again and slid in behind her, wrapping his arms around her, the hook resting gently on her waist, but his hand splayed on the island in front of her next to her hot chocolate.
“Do you remember when I told you about my rings?” he asked.
“After I didn’t actually save your life for the second time,” she said somewhat bitterly.
“Hush, lass,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I told you they were a reminder for me that all sins can be forgiven when someone loves you.”
“I guess your hook would be the ultimate reminder,” she said, sensing where he was going.
“Aye,” he said. “For better or worse, love, I am Captain Hook. Given that road eventually led me to you sometimes I can’t even bring myself to be sorry for that. But, yes, the hook reminds me every day that I am becoming the man I want to be. I’m not there yet, not sure if I ever will get there, but every day is a new beginning.”
“I can accept that,” she said, putting her hand over his and stroked his wedding band. “I like this ring and its reminder better.”
“That do I,” he said.
“But, Killian,” she said, swiveling to look at him. “If you ever change your mind or if you want to do a trial period or anything like that…well, all you have to do is ask.”
“Thank you, love,” he said, smiling down at her and then dropped a quick kiss to her forehead.
“I kind of like the hook anyway,” she admitted.
“I’ve noticed,” he said, his hand shifting to her waist.
“Are you sure you don’t like it because it makes you feel like a sexy pirate?” she asked, turning all the way to face him and grabbing the item in question, while he stepped naturally between her legs.
“Or is that why you like it?” he asked, smirking.
“You don’t seem to mind when I call you Hook,” she said, smiling.
“I am Captain Hook, Swan,” he said. “I believe I just reminded you of that fact. Poncy red-coated git villains aside.”
Emma laughed because she would always remember fondly the day she had shown Killian Peter Pan. He’d grumbled and muttered under his breath nearly the whole time, sometimes crying out things like: “I’ll have you know Tinkerbelle came to me that night!” Or “The whole Tiger Lily Skull Rock scenario has been taken entirely out of context.”
He’d watched that entire sequence with his mouth open in outrage the whole time.
When the movie was over he’d turned to her with a beseeching face and said.
“Emma love, you have to promise me the crocodile never sees this.”
Barely able to contain her laughter she’d replied.
“I’m sorry, Captain, but I’m afraid you missed the boat on that one. See, Gold was cursed for 28 years with false memories. Pretty sure in his mind, he saw that in the theater.”
He’d settled back in dismay before turning to her again.
“Smee then?”
“Same thing,” she said.
He’d folded his arms grumpily before mumbling.
“At least I’m sure bloody Pan never got to see it.”
That she hadn’t been able to argue with, pretty sure that communications with the home office had never included video transmissions.
But he’d never gotten over it and glared balefully every time someone like Regina or Henry brought it up. He liked other adaptations like Hook better (despite visible shame during the scene where Rufio died), and he’d gone out on the Jolly for a long afternoon of ‘personal reflection, love,’ after he’d actually read Peter and Wendy, but he was always somewhat dissatisfied with how he was portrayed.
Even now he was simmering silently and she reached up to grab his neck, bending it down for his lips to meet hers.
“We both know that when I call you Hook I’m thinking of the rogue pirate who took me up a beanstalk and couldn’t stop staring at my ass.”
“Who was and still is devilishly handsome, a most delightful scoundrel,” he amended, hand edging under her shirt.
“Who I am very happy brought one chest with him when he moved in that contained his leather coat and vests, especially the red one, and leather pants,” she said, and that was most definitely the truth.
She’d been glad he finally felt comfortable enough to find more modern clothing that was still within his style; it had certainly taken him longer than any other fairytale character she’d met. But whenever he did put on his full pirate regalia, she was instantly reminded by the lurch in her stomach that the looks she admired on a daily basis were greatly enhanced by obvious pirate accoutrements. It was also why she was extremely glad he still took great care to apply kohl every day. His eyes and his jewelry and the hook served to remind her, he would always be her pirate.
“Did you need a demonstration?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“My very own pirate fashion show?” she hummed. “I could get behind the idea.”
“I promised the lad I’d have that done for him tomorrow afternoon,” Killian mumbled into her neck.
“And how much time do you need?” she asked, pressing more firmly against him.
He hesitated while she kissed him again
“Not that much,” he said, suddenly hoisting her on the counter and urging her legs to wrap around his waist.
She submitted to it gladly, letting him carry her toward the stairs while she focused on kissing him.
She didn’t think she’d ever get tired of this, of being so connected to another human being that intimate conversations about the deepest parts of their past could segue so smoothly into intimacy of a far more physical kind.
She would have more thoughts about the things he’d told her later, but for right now, she was glad she’d asked and that he’d answered and that they could move forward in their lives, together and with Henry, secure in their paths as pirate and savior, taking whatever the future held as it came.