These Are the Days That Will Last Forever
A/N: Hi friends! It’s been a minute since my last tale, but with the recent spoilers of Jen and Colin filming a final Captain Swan scene making their way online, surely you must have suspected I would write a little canon compliant spec fic? :) This is straight tooth-rotting fluff and I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I’ve missed these two goobs immensely and am happy to be writing for them (and their newest addition!!!!) again.
P.S. I’d love to hear what you think (aka GIVE ME ALL YOUR FEELS AND TEARS :D)! Oh, and my apologies to anyone who dislikes the name of the baby, I attempted to abstain from using it or even using my own preference for a name, but because I wanted it to be canon compliant, here we are. Just know that it pained me as much as you and while I still don’t love it, I hate it a little less LOL
Summary: Killian hasn’t heard the full tale of what Henry’s gone through yet, has only caught bits and pieces here and there over the course of the night, and though he is eager for it, it’s neither the place nor the time. The ball is meant for reunion and celebration, and with a baby in his arms and his wife at his side, he intends to enjoy every moment he can.
Words: 3,735 | Rating: PFTRF for pirate family tooth-rotting fluff | ao3
She stands there sharing words with their boy – their boy who is no longer a boy, but a grown man with a life and a family of his own. He’s aged since they’ve last seen him, Killian thinks, not so much in the physical sense, but emotionally. Henry has a certain air about him now, Killian can see it in his gait, in the the set of his shoulders, and the shadows still lingering in his eyes. He wears the look of one who’s seen too much in too short a time, who’s suffered heartache and loss, but has found hope and purpose and happiness anew. Curses meant for separation will do that to a person, though, Killian knows that better than anyone. (His eyes flit briefly to his wife, in her dress of white and her hair curled loosely about her shoulders, and even after all this time, his heart still twinges at the memories of all the ways they’ve been torn apart.)
He hasn’t heard the full tale of what Henry’s gone through yet, has only caught bits and pieces here and there over the course of the night, and though he is eager for it, it’s neither the place nor the time. The ball is meant for reunion and celebration, and he trusts that later, Henry will seek him out as he always had when he’d been a growing lad in need of an ear and fatherly conversation. Perhaps even with a bottle of rum or tankards of ale in place of the hot chocolate and tea that had always been customary for them in his youth. One can always hope.
His gaze shifts back to Emma, as it so often does, and the child leaning back against her. Their granddaughter, Lucy, is a sprightly lass no older than Henry’s age when he himself had embarked on his first curse-breaking adventure. He imagines she’s had a rough go of it, having been at the center of this curse much like her father had been with Emma’s, but she is as bubbly and charming as ever, and it pleases him that what’s transpired in his and Emma’s absence has not darkened her spirits or tainted the beauty and magic of her young world one bit. In fact, Lucy appears perfectly content to be where she is, surrounded by love and family, tucked safely in the circle of her grandmother’s arms. That thought alone is enough to make him smile twice over, understanding that feeling quite well himself.
She watches with attentive, intelligent eyes while the two adults exchange words over her head and he knows with absolute certainty that Henry and Ella will have their hands full as she matures into womanhood. He glances down at the baby sitting atop his gently bouncing knee, his heart swelling immeasurably while she babbles to herself and plays with his hook. Her little fingers grasp at the special pink rubber protector covering the tip – it’s something he implored the fairies to fashion, more for his peace of mind than anyone else’s – and when his daughter tires of it, she curls her hands around the curve of his hook instead, attempting to pull it straight off the brace. She could do so with nothing more than a thought if she wished, having inherited far more than just Emma’s blonde hair and the adorable dent in her chin, and instinctively he knows that he and Emma will too have a hell of a time raising their own little one.
Unable to resist, he nuzzles at her cheek and blows raspberry kisses until she turns her sweet cherub face towards him. They call her Hope, and her one-tooth grin and delighted blue eyes are too much for his small heart to bear, so he leans down again to kiss the tip of her nose as well. She makes a face at that, hand reaching up to try to grab his nose, but Killian knows this game well and tilts his head just enough so that his scruffy chin sits in Hope’s tiny palm. He moves back and forth, tickling her with his beard until she squeals with laughter and tugs her hand away. She repeats the gesture, wanting him to do it again, and Killian is, of course, happy to oblige.
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