DRUNKEN CAROLLING (”that’s not a thing” “oh yes it is”) please and thank you
@katie-dub Dear, this took me ages. (Never thought keeping this short would be a challenge, but it was!) I’m so sorry, but there it is. Hopefully, it is the kind of ridiculous you expected.
Set somewhere during season 3b, except they actually get to catch a break for once and Hook spends Christmas with the lots of them in Storybrooke and the heroes are trying to make him fit-ish into their lives? (No, it most absolutely does not fit into any coherent timeline, but sometimes timelines are overrated.)
Big thanks to @killiansprincss for reading this over for me <3
It’s already bad that Mary Margaret’s gotten into her mind that Hook should be invited to the Christmas town celebrations, but it’s actually worse that Emma has to be the one to announce it.
“Please bear with me, Swan, and I mean this in the most disrespectful manner but... what the bloody hell is this ‘caroliling’ tradition you’re talking about?”
Emma’s exasperated sigh bounces off Granny’s walls as she stands before Hook. Said Hook is slouched into a booth, twirling a little spoon in an enormous cup of coffee, his legs crossed under the table.
“It’s ca-ro-lling, Hook, and you don’t have to take part in it if you don’t want to. But keep in mind that Mary Margaret will see it as a declaration of war.”
A click of his tongue. Emma’s eyelids twitch. She wants to kill him. Murder him. Make him disappear.
But then Hook’s entire face starts crinkling into a smile and Emma isn’t so angry anymore. It’s annoying. She’s almost tempted to smile. Instead, she presses her lips firmly together.
“You have to understand me, Swan. I came down here to have a pleasant breakfast. Instead, I am being attacked because I do not want to take part in bloody traditions I don’t know about.”
Emma groans, furiously rolls her eyes. She doesn’t have time for this. “Oh for fuck’s sake, just meet me here tonight -- around 8pm. Mary Margaret will be glad. Bring your rum. It’ll be fun.”
With a click of her tongue and a clatter of heels, Emma strides out of Granny’s.
.
When she picks him up that night, Emma cannot help but notice that Hook’s lips seem to remain oddly parted.
“Why are you smiling like that?” she asks as they walk side by side on the snow-coated pavement towards the town hall.
His hand brushes against hers as he leans into her space, hand on his belt and all swagger out.
“‘Cause it feels like you just picked me up to go on a date, Swan, and I quite like that idea actually.”
Emma scoffs, winces. She is suddenly quite thankful Storybrooke’s streets are unusually crowded -- otherwise, Hook would have heard her heart drop.
“You’ll definitely lose your bravado once you go through the seven stages of tonight’s tradition.”
Emma ignores diligently the voice inside her head mumbling that Hook could have made it to the town hall on his own and speeds up her pace instead.
“Nah, Swan. I think it was just an excuse to spend more time with me.” And when he flashes her his biggest grin, Emma has a very hard time swallowing down her own smile.
“Everyone is invited to Storybrooke’s annual Christmas carolling, Hook,” she mumbles, and rolls her eyes for further emphasis.
“Doesn’t mean it’s any less ridiculous.”
“Oh, you’ll see. After a few drinks, it’ll get fun.”
.
Mary Margaret is very devoted, Mary Margaret has printed the carols' lyrics onto those red, thick teacher pieces of paper and she stands before rows and rows of Storybrooke inhabitants, extremely solemn as she guides the improvised concert.
Even if Emma isn’t partial to holiday celebrations, she has to admit seeing everyone reunited and clearly having fun is actually nice.
Regina and Henry sit in the front, with the rest of Emma’s family, while she and Hook sit at the back -- for security concerns officially. Unofficially, it’s mostly so that her parents cannot see them exchange Hook’s flask of rum.
Although Hook spent the beginning of the singing session mumbling under his breath “bloody ridiculous” -- to which Emma agreed deeply in her heart but surely not aloud -- well, now that rum’s settled into their stomach, they’ve gotten far more into it.
.
It’s really silly then, but by the end, when her legs are heavy and her spirit lifted by alcohol, she figures they might as well walk back to Granny’s together.
“I don’t want to alarm you, Swan, but I might be getting the wrong ideas.”
As he leans against the wall of the B&B’s corridor, blue eyes sparkling and lips still red from the cold -- an infuriatingly handsome picture --, she considers leaving him on the spot. But then his gaze lingers into hers, and her body seems magnetized to his and -- well, she figures to hell with it and grabs the lapel of his coat and kisses him.
When she climbs down to order her cup of hot cocoa the next morning, they do not talk about it. Instead, they smile and sit together in quiet contentment, until Hook eventually mutters as he flicks through the morning paper: “Not so bad, in the end, this carolilling affair, Swan.”
