Summary: Was anyone else disappointed that we didn’t get a scene about the whole Charming quitting the Storybrooke Law Enforcement and Killian being hired? Well I did. And this little write up covers that.
When it became the nineteenth time Hook brought coffee and muffins into the sheriff’s office at 8:30 am on the dot, Charming knew he had to rethink his position as second deputy in charge of Storybrooke.
When the reformed pirate beat him to a crime scene for the second time in a week, David was already buying the horses and cows to fit into his barn that sat a hundred yards from his new country house.
But when LeRoy slipped up and muttered ‘Deputy Pirate’ under his breath at Granny’s, Charming thought now was the time to pass his honorary title to his son…well, son-in-law…
The angel was clear, the little cygnet needed to be protected, he was to be her hero, and at the young age of five, Killian Jones is all too willing to take on that task. Little does he know, the cygnet is more than what she appears.
A/N: Happy (Belated) Father’s Day to my favorite pirate daddy, Killian Jones!
—–
There’s a card with his name on it leaning against a gift bag on the nightstand when Killian wakes. It makes his brows knit together, makes him blink in sleepy confusion when he suddenly notes the sunlight just beginning to creep in through the thin curtains over the window on the adjacent wall. It’s early yet, but his internal clock knows that Hope will be up and fussing very soon. He sits up, turning his head to glance at Emma’s side of the bed. It’s habit, really, but that Emma’s side is devoid of her dreaming form is not.
She’s rarely been up before him since Hope began sleeping through the night, and he wonders briefly if perhaps their little one had simply been early to rise that morning and he’d just slept straight through her cries for attention, thus drawing Emma from their bed to see to her in his place. His eyes flit over to the baby monitor on the dresser, but Hope’s grumbling and Emma’s soft, soothing tone is nowhere to be heard over the speaker. There’s nothing out of sorts with the device from what he can see, the tiny green bulb in the corner is still lit up just as it was when he and Emma went to bed last night.
The sound in the doorway draws his attention then — floorboards creaking noisily beneath bare feet — and he is greeted by a sight that tugs on the corners of his lips as deeply as it does the strings of his heart: his wife, shuffling in through the threshold of their room with a baby on her hip and a tray of food carefully balanced on her arm.
“Happy Father’s Day,” she says in a singsong voice, eyes full of mirth and smile warm.
Emma Swan went to Britain looking for family. It should have been a Hallmark movie, a Christmas miracle waiting to happen. Instead she’s stuck in a grimy London ‘flat’, with the worst next door neighbor in the world.
Well, maybe not the worst.
Ok, here it is! My contribution to the @captainswanbigbang ‘s little bang! Thank you so much to all the mods for organising it and for all your hard work. Specifically I owe a blood debt to @phiralovesloki for being an awesome beta, my heart on a platter to @katie-dub and @killiancygnus for cheerleading and, of course, a million thank yous to my incredibly talented and lovely artist @shady-swan-jones who sent me a prompt a year ago and had to wait a reaaaaally long time to see it come to fruition in a way she almost certainly didn’t expect! The fact that we were paired together makes me grin like a loon Sophie, I hope I did you proud.
As well as the beautiful banner, @shady-swan-jones has also created X this gorgeous artwork for the first half and this X beautiful spoilery piece too! I am a spoilt writer.
Thanks for the title Death Cab. And the tears.
Wordcount: 14999 (yep, that close!)
Rating: M
Other Pairings: Snowing, Outlaw Queen
Warnings: Excessive drinking, swearing, sexual situations.
Emma Swan has never really been one for romantic comedies. They aren’t made for the likes of her – a woman described as prickly by her friends and rather less flatteringly by the vanishingly few dates she’s had over the years. No, romantic comedies are really more Mary Margaret’s thing, full of hope and joy and promises that things will get better if you believe in yourself, Emma.
(She believes in herself just fine, as it happens. It’s other people she struggles with.)
It makes sense, then, that her vague memories of watching one such movie years ago are of being curled up under a blanket on Mary Margaret’s college futon, her attention carefully focused on the television and not on the way David’s hands roamed over Mary Margaret’s knee. Public displays of affection were even less appealing to her than some stupid movie’s ideas about the perfection of true love, and that’s why she remembers most of it even now. There were lobsters, for sure, and something about pornography that made Mary Margaret gasp. (She hopes that was the reason. Maybe her memory blanked that part out.)
And at the end, a beautiful airport reunion that made David sniff surreptitiously against Mary Margaret’s shoulder.
Her experience of London’s Heathrow is nothing like that.
She arrives on a miserable foggy November night, clutching her single case and blinking grit from her eyes in the overly bright arrivals hall.
She steps through the late night crowd waiting for loved ones and out into the darkness, struggling to read her new address from the back of an aircraft napkin in the dim glow of an orange street light.
(Peckham. Mary Margaret had said, a little furrow between her brows even as she tried to smile. Sounds fancy.
If you’re a chicken, maybe. David had muttered, pulling Emma against his side. Do you have to go?)
Just a short piece about dinner with the Charming’s from Killian’s perspective.
The first time he’s invited to dinner it’s an awkward feeling.
He’s never had to do this before; dine with the parents. He’s had dinner in the company of the Charmings before, sure, but this was under a whole different circumstance. Now he was joining them as Emma’s boyfriend, specifically for them to get to know him without the main topic being whatever villain they were facing.
No, the topic this time would be him, and it was completely unchartered waters.
He’d never been the subject of any lass’s affections as a lad; he’d been a slave on a merchant ship. Not exactly suitor material. And once he’d enrolled in the navy, his time was dedicated to being the best at his job; making something of himself for Liam to be proud of. There wasn’t time for courting.
Of course, once he’d turned to piracy, it was nothing but giggling barmaids, sneaking off with him in lure of his pretty face, or lonesome wenches chasing the thrill and danger of his profession.
And then Milah came along…
Killian had never been the type of man to take home to the family, which is why he was suddenly unsure of how to act.
He wanted to give a good impression. He wanted to show he was worthy of Emma and deserving of their acceptance, but he also refused to change who he was just for the sake of impressing them. He was stuck straddling a indecisive fence.
“Sorry about this.” Emma kept whispering to him, showing she was embarrassed and insisting that her mother was responsible for the event.
But Killian knew, although Emma wasn’t keen on her parents making a big spectacle, she was just as nervous as he. It was new for her too. She’d never brought someone home to meet her mother and father. She too wanted to make a good impression of herself.
It was that knowledge that had him determined to make it go well.
The night turned out a lot better than he’d expected. The awkward conversation had soon blossomed into stories of the Enchanted Forest. He’d found himself triggering fond memories for the couple with his recounts of past adventures.
He’d even managed to get David to laugh.
By the end of the night, Emma had a smile on her face, pride beaming from her that told him it was all worth it.
“We should do this again.” Snow announced, and the thought doesn’t have his blood running cold.
For once, he’s in agreement.
The third time he’s invited to dinner it’s bleak.
He’s not quite sure why he’s been invited over, not when the source of their association is currently shrouded in darkness and isolating herself across the other side of town.
But Snow insists on him being there.
It’s quiet. Small talk is seldom with each of them lost in their own turmoil, running the same questions through their heads. What did we do wrong? How did Emma fall so far? How do we get her back?
It warms him slightly to know that he’s still included; still welcome even with Emma’s absence. But it pains him even more that she’s absent in the first place.
Although they eat in peace and manage to find some comfort in each other’s company for the evening, it still feels like a failure.
The next dinner can only be described as bizarre.
There’s more people at the table this time, and they’re seated in an Underworld version of the loft, trapped and unable to get home, but it’s strangely pleasant.
He feels guilt.
Guilt that they’re in this predicament because of him; having to take on Hades himself because of him, but he can’t help finding comfort in knowing they did it because they feel he’s worth it.
He matters. He has a family; a place.
The underlying stress of the situation is overshadowed by their hope and reluctance to give in. They’re optimistic and determined to get back home and it rubs off on him. He shares smiles with Emma and holds her hand through it because it may not be an ideal situation, but they’re together.
And they will get back home.
Together.
Their last dinner would be marked down as his favourite.
It was the five of them once again- six if you count the littlest Prince, but it was different in so many ways.
They were no longer crammed into the loft.
This time, it was their home playing host.
His and Emma’s.
Their newly developed status is exciting and they find themselves thoroughly enjoying every moment. Both hesitant yet eager to prepare the meal together because it’s new and adventurous; not knowing who should be in charge of what, just knowing that they want it.
The charming’s being their guests, welcomed into their kitchen, sitting at their table. Killian can’t keep the smile off his face the entire night. He doesn’t remember feeling so at ease.
He pours the wine that night, he laughs the loudest, he doesn’t hold back from stretching across his seat to place a kiss on Emma’s cheek. He’s offering the dessert this time, Snow as asking if there’s anything they can do to help, David is thanking him for a great evening- It feels magnificent.
And she’s glowing with happiness too. They all are.
It was home.
It was how family is meant to be; how it should feel.
He can’t help but think about what the next dinner will be like.
Will it be back to short uncomfortable conversation with growing silence? Will he be able to share stories with them again after knowing what he’s done in the past?
Will it be on his and Emma’s wedding day? Surrounded by decorations and congratulations as they toast to good health and a happy life?
Killian is unsure of the reception he’ll receive the next time their family dinner comes around, but he knows for damn sure he needs to get off this submarine and back to Storybrooke to find out.
cshappybeginning 