Hello timeladyinstorybrooke !! I'm your CSSS and this is my gift for you. I was a horrible CSSS and I'm so sorry for this.
You said you wanted a fic where Killian tells Emma a story and I think it turned out to be a bit different than what you expected but this happened. I hope you like it :)
Also special thanks to oncepromised for being an amazing beta.
It all started with Henry.
Emma found the two of them in the diner, their heads ridiculously close to each other despite the table between them, her son’s eyes huge, listening to Killian intently. The diner was humming with the other patrons’ talking and laughter but it was still possible to make out their voices.
She took off her scarf and beanie, slowly making her way towards them. They didn’t even notice her until she slid next to Killian in the booth. He stopped talking then, giving her a little peck on the lips despite the sounds her son made, indicating his disgust with the public display of affection. Henry didn’t dwell on how terrible it was to see his mom kissing someone in front of him, like he always did in the past. Instead, he turned his eyes back to Killian, his gaze full of wonder and curiosity.
“So? What happened then?” asked Henry, not even trying to hide his enthusiasm.
Killian scratched behind his ear nervously, looking not so very eager to continue his swashbuckling pirate story any longer. Emma could see his uneasy smile but she couldn’t make out the reason behind it, only assuming that it wasn’t a story fit for a twelve-year-old boy.
“Perhaps another time, lad?” answered Killian with a tight smile. Henry’s face fell a little at that but his joy returned quickly when Ruby brought three cups of hot cocoa with cinnamon to their table.
Their conversation shifted quickly and Emma brushed it off.
It happened again a couple weeks later.
They were at her parents’ loft for their traditional Saturday dinner. She couldn’t recall when it had started and turned into a usual occurrence but it just happened.
Emma, Killian, and Henry arrived with a pack of beer in hand. Henry was still begging Emma for at least a taste from one of the bottles when David opened the door with baby Neal in his arms, head tucked into the crook of his father’s neck and little fingers grasping David’s shirt.
Killian put the beers in the refrigerator while Emma went to set the table, her son already playing with the baby, making funny faces at him to steal cute giggles from his tiny mouth, beer conversation already forgotten.
The dinner went quite well. It was a nice change not to have a crisis to worry over or another villain to defeat. They all got used to the fact that it wasn’t going to last forever but at least they had each other and it was more than enough.
She went to her brother’s room with him wailing in her arms. It was past his bedtime and Mary Margaret obviously needed some time off from being a mother to a 6-month-old baby. She and David looked so worn out and Neal’s energy seemed to increase with each passing day.
When Emma returned to the living room an hour later, the baby finally sleeping soundly in his crib (she didn’t want to think about how hard it was to build), she saw her entire family listening to Killian, to the point where they didn’t even notice her walking down the old, creaky stairs. She didn’t want to interrupt his tale this time, so she leaned against the railing and listened.
“So Prince Charles has snuck into Regina’s castle before?” asked David with amusement.
Killian’s only response was his natural smirk before Mary Margaret beat him to it, “What were you doing in the castle? She was the Evil Queen back then. She would’ve killed you!”
The same uneasiness came back again, his hand shooting back to his ear unconsciously, his face growing red. She realized it then, the reason why he got quiet all of a sudden. The hidden worry in his eyes that only she could see very clearly, the self-loathing that came from his pirate years was evident on every inch of his body. How his entire demeanor changed when his adventurous tales turned into the victory of the villain he believed he was for centuries saddened her greatly.
Thankfully Henry didn’t let him reply and fired his own question immediately. “How did you get out? My mom has magic!”
Killian visibly relaxed, relieved that he didn’t have to tell them the reason behind it. They all knew he didn’t have a good history with neither Rumplestiltskin nor Belle but he still didn’t like voicing the past he was ashamed of.
“Well I couldn’t. She found me before I managed to get out and spared my life for the exchange of her mother’s.”
Emma made herself known then, excusing herself by telling them it was late and Henry should have gone to bed an hour ago. She wanted to talk to Killian about this but didn’t know what to say. So instead she showed him when they got home, telling him with a quietly whispered “Stay”, and with the loving touches of her fingers in bed, and the “I love you” she branded against his heart after they both were sated.
*-*-*
Ariel came back. She said it was for family business (which later turned out to be a war between Poseidon and Zeus over the reign of Olympus), not willing to give any more information. But what unnerved Emma the most was the murderous look she gave Killian. She didn’t say anything but it was obvious that something happened between them. Emma couldn’t understand what it was. The last time she saw Ariel was on that mirror with her True Love, happy, thanks to Killian.
Killian retrieved back to his cocoon after that, his walls back up, his face always an image of guilt, regret, and self-hatred. She tried to talk to him that night, unable to see him filled with self-loathing.
“I was a pirate, Swan. I will always be. And I did things that I’m not proud of,” he said, his voice wavering slightly. “It wasn’t Ariel that I thought I was helping. Ariel was never here; it was Zelena in disguise. And I let her down in the Enchanted Forest before.”
She held his hand, squeezing it, indicating that he can go on, trying to show him that no matter what, she was going to be there. She knew he had been a pirate before, he still was, she never denied it, never wanted to erase that part of him.
This new information created a million questions in her head but she pushed them all down, it was time for him to talk. So he did. He told her how he left the Charmings when they arrived in the Enchanted Forest because it was so unbearable for him to look at them and see a piece of her, how he tried to be a pirate again, tried to remember the life he’d had before he met her, the life in which he didn’t have neither the courage nor purpose to be a better man.
He told her about Ariel and Blackbeard, how he didn’t help her find Eric. Emma reached for him then, the urge to soothe all his pain so strong it clawed at her from the inside out. He kept talking, her arms around him, and his head on her chest; listening to the beating of her heart that broke for the man she loved.
She listened to his story, the one that was unlike any other he’d told to her family. She listened and fell for him even more, the hero, the pirate, and the broken soul.
*-*-*
Emma woke up with the sun blinding her, the other side of the bed empty but not quite cold. It had been a busy week, thankfully not because of another villain but the climate of Maine wanting to show its true colors. She was relieved to see the sun again.
She got out of bed sleepily, her muscles aching. Being a mother to a one-year-old baby boy on top of being the sheriff of a fairytale town would do that. She walked towards the voice of her husband, not quite understanding his words at first but aware that he was talking to Liam, their little baby. As she got close to the kitchen door, she managed to make out what he was saying.
“The princess and the pirate had to retrieve a compass from an evil giant, climbing a huge beanstalk. The giant wasn’t very evil, he was your uncle Anton actually, but they didn’t know it back then.”
Liam made a squealing sound at hearing Anton’s name; it was funny to think about. He had taken a liking to the giant (who wasn’t a giant anymore) and he became his second best adult playmate after Killian. David was jealous but he would deny it even if his life depended on it.
“The beautiful princess didn’t trust him at first, he was a pirate after all, a handsome one, I might add. They climbed the beanstalk together. The pirate was very impressed by her; she wasn’t like any woman he’d ever met… ”
As he continued his tale, Emma smiled to herself, leaving her spot silently without making her presence known. She decided she could spare them a father-son story time.
*giggles* Sorry to people who don't follow me for Merlin, but...I randomly rediscovered my love for Gwaine tonight and I couldn't stop posting. Just look at his face! <33
On the risk of sounding like a perv, where are those sex gifs come from, in the cs booty call gifset? Cause they're pretty... ok I'm gonna hide in a corner now.
hahaha is from a movie called Wake, it's Ian Somerhalder's movie :) *don't go hide porn is okay*
She had noticed it vaguely in passing before, but anytime she'd been close enough to his face to really pay attention to it, she hadn't exactly been examining scars; once she had noticed it, however, she couldn't un-notice it.
It was late, and she should have been sleeping, but she was too jittery -- they were so close, so close to finding Henry, getting her son back, going home -- to even try, so she had been passing time with stupid busy work like cleaning her sword and picking fuzz from Mary Margaret's bag out of her sweater, until she noticed him moving around, too.
She could never decide what she felt about him, to run closer or farther; this time, like they had been doing a lot lately, her feet made the decision for her and took her to Hook. (Killian? Did he feel like he deserved to have it back yet?)
It occurred to her suddenly, when she sat next to him and he looked at her and the firelight glanced off the scar on his face, that she hardly knew him -- or, she knew him, where and why he hid Killian Jones, but she didn't know his story, anything about his past. Had he ever had a family? Why did he become a pirate? Who was he before?
Where did he get that scar?
The last question came tumbling out of her mouth without really checking itself at her brain, because she hadn't been sleeping well and so her thoughts were getting muddled and she didn't quite know what to say to him most of the time and he kept throwing her off-guard and well, what the hell, she was curious.
"Pardon?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, and she wasn't sure if it was that he hadn't heard her or that he was confused at the non-sequitor.
"That scar," she said, indicating to his face. "What happened?"
He ran a finger over it idly. "When I was a lad, I found myself as a powder monkey on a pirate ship," he explained, shrugging. "Not by choice, mind. Only way I could find passage to the capital city."
"Powder monkey?"
He laughed a bit. "Ran gunpowder up from the magazine to the artillery. Young boys usually do it because they're smaller and quicker, and otherwise useless in a fight," he added, frowning. "Deadly, though. You're carrying a bag or box of gunpowder through a firefight, might get set fire or hit by shrapnel."
She stared at him for a moment. "Does that happen... often?" she asked in mounting horror, more when he glanced at her with a wry twist to his face.
"Aye, all the time. It's why the captain was willing to let me go at the capital -- powder monkeys are expendable, and usually easy to find. Just look for the orphans," he added in a dark mutter. "Anyway," he went on, shrugging, "we got into a battle with another ship, foreign navy of some kind, and -- well, like I said, shrapnel. Luckily," he said, as if confiding a secret and looking at her again in confusing amusement, "I have quick reflexes, it only caught my cheek instead of my throat."
"What was that look for?" she snapped indignantly, but the amusement only intensified, and he smirked, leaning back against a tree.
"Well, you damn near took my head off on the way to Dark Hollow, didn't you?" he replied, looking far more amused than his words suggested he should be. "In the future, love," he said quietly, leaning in and somehow sucking all the air out of the immediate vicinity, "watch where you're swinging your sword when you unsheath it."
"Oh, god," she breathed in horror. "I'm sorry, I -- "
He shrugged. "Don't worry about it."
She blinked.
"I almost hurt you really bad," she said, staring at him incredulously. "And that doesn't... bother you at all?"
He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "I'm not sure you fully grasp how many swords I've had swung in my face, darling. At this point, if one actually struck me, I would be disappointed in myself."
She paused, letting that sink in. "Now I'm curious," she said, quirking a little smile at him.
"Yes, but now, it's my turn," he countered, mimicking her smile but with more deviousness (how like him).
"I don't recall agreeing to that," she muttered; he raised an eyebrow.
"I don't see you leaving."
She sighed. "Okay, fine, but I'm allowed to refuse."
"Of course," he replied, tone just a bit wooden; she pretended not to know why. "Hmm," he sighed, looking her over in a surprisingly non-sexual way, before finally taking her left wrist. "The significance of the tattoo."
Emma laughed and replied, "There isn't any, actually. I was sixteen and I decided I just wanted a tattoo. When people asked, I usually told them it was drawn by my dead little sister." She glanced at him, utterly unashamed because this was Hook she was talking to. "You'd be surprised how many people give you free things when you tell them your baby sister just died. You get more when you tell them you have no idea how to pay her medical bills because your parents ran out on you. And even more when you pretend to be pregnant."
He laughed, watching her with an expression she was very, very sure she didn't want to interpret ( -- I've yet to see you fail -- ). "Well, it does say something about your past," he offered, and she shot him a deadpan half-glare.
"Oh? And just what is that?" she challenged, because it occurred to her suddenly that he knew as many of her details as she did his. He smirked.
"Well, you were a thief, for one, although I already knew that -- " she rolled her eyes " -- and unabashedly used people's goodness to get what you wanted. You were impulsive. Adventurous. You enjoyed it, enough to come up with increasingly outrageous tales to see how far you could push the balance of altruism versus skepticism. In short," he added in a much lower voice, locking eyes with her in a way that was impossible to escape from, "you were a pirate."
She cast about desperately for a response, but nothing came. Finally, after a long, awkward moment, she tore her gaze away from him and stood. "On that note," she said, not even bothering to try and hide it (he'd see through it anyway), "I'm going to sleep."
But she made the mistake of looking back at him, to see that woodenness back on his face, and she sighed. "But you're good, I'll admit. Right on all counts."
He smiled at her, really, genuinely smiled, like he was happy, happy like a problem child who'd just gotten an A. "Told you," he said. "Open book."
"Hmmph," she grunted, rolling her eyes and making her way back to her bedroll, that last look on his face haunting her. He'd somehow managed to take one tiny crack in her walls and tear it open like it wasn't even difficult, like it wasn't even rare.
And the only thing that frightened her about it was that it didn't frighten her at all.
Honestly, up until ASOTM I was convinced he would die, because of the whole revenge thing... in my mind it was like Harry Potter, neither can live while the other survives, and there's no way they're going to kill off Rumple, so it's obvious that Hook dies sooner or later. I actually spent the entire second season worrying about this, how Hook's death is inevitable, but now that they sort of made peace? I have absolutely no idea what could happen to him other than ending up with Emma.
"but now that they sort of made peace? I have absolutely no idea what could happen to him other than ending up with Emma." THIS SO MUCH.
