james hook

James had managed to catch Tina in a very giggly mood today, which oftentimes went one of two ways. One, was good. It meant she was in a good mood and much harder to displease than normal. Two, meant trouble. The giggles had a tendency to veer very quickly toward mischief and an inability to control oneself, whether that was her mouth or her teeth.

He thought he had caught her on the first of the two.

Clothes were strewn around the floor, limbs were tangled. There may or may not have been a few choice bite marks on James' shoulder.

At present, she was very much squished into the mattress, roasting hot and enjoying it immensely.

At the height of her giggles, James growled something into her ear ('something, something, break you, something something), and from then there was absolutely no going back. Trouble was to be had.

"Okay, Daddy," she squeaked, followed by her most mischievous giggle yet.

Not James.

Not Sir.

Daddy.

It felt like coming home at the end of a long and harrowing journey, to a familiar, and much needed safety. Home, where you knew where everything was. A place you could navigate in the dark, on moonless, starless nights. A place that, even if you hadn't visited for a very long time, you knew.

"Tina…" he said.

As safe as this all was, Tina was still bruised. She unknowingly held her breath as his fingers danced around the metal of his wedding band. While the tension that had been felt for months was long since gone, old habits did die hard. Tina fell very quiet, and very still eyes fixed on James' face for any sign that something was about to shatter.

When the thin red ring around his finger was revealed, Tina grabbed his hand, pulling it close to her face for further inspection. She turned his hand over, turned it back, grazed his finger. It was real. It seemed as binding as a pinkie promise. The ultimate promise.

"This means I get to keep your finger if you break your promise. I hope you know that," she teased, that unwelcome tension finally leaving.

They were still for a moment, quiet. Tina savoured it just long enough.

"I love you," she said, kissing James' jaw.

There wasn't much thought to her next action, which seemed like it was a need, rather than a rational choice. Tina pulled herself over James' lap, knees on either side of his hips. Now, normally, or, rather, in the before times, this would have been an invitation for the adult kind of intimacy.

But here and now, it was not. Not intentionally. No. Tina threw her arms, desperately, around James, her face buried in his neck. She hugged him as tightly as she could possibly manage, closing her eyes, inhaling and holding her breath.

It was a need to be held, more than anything else.

A need to hold.

"I love you," she said again, muffled by his shirt.

There was warmth in his tone—light, unguarded, almost boyish. It felt good to tease each other again. To flirt without fear. To let the air between them feel easy instead of fragile. For the first time in a long while, it felt like maybe things weren’t irreparably cracked. Maybe they were simply… bruised. And bruises healed.

James wanted this. Wanted her. Wanted them.

He wanted to try—not halfway, not cautiously from behind emotional walls—but truly try. Because he loved his wife more than anything in this world. More than his pride. More than his fear. More than the quiet, gnawing voice that sometimes told him he didn’t deserve something this good.

That was the harder part, wasn’t it? Not loving her—that had always been the easiest thing he’d ever done. It was loving himself enough to believe he was worthy of her staying. Worthy of her forgiveness. Worthy of her choosing him again.

He had to allow her to love the broken man he was.

A shadow passed briefly through his thoughts—old memories, sharp and unwanted. The fear that he might hurt her again. That somehow, despite all his intentions, he would fail her. That part of him had never completely disappeared. It lingered in the quiet corners of his mind, whispering reminders of past mistakes.

But right now, holding her like this, he made himself a promise.

If he ever hurt her again—intentionally or not—he would not run from it. He would not hide. He would not let pride or fear swallow him whole. He would fix it. He would do everything in his power to make it right. And he would never, ever hurt her on purpose. That, at the very least, he could control.

“I love you,” he said softly in return to her affectionate words.

The words felt different now. Fuller. Earned.

She fit against him so naturally, as though she had been shaped to rest in his arms. Tiny compared to him, yet somehow the only thing that ever made him feel steady. He wrapped himself around her, chin resting lightly atop her head, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair.

“I love you so much, Tina.”

His voice was thick with it—gratitude, relief, devotion.

He had missed saying those words. Missed the way her body softened when she heard them. Missed the quiet certainty that followed, like a shared heartbeat.

He pressed a gentle kiss to her temple, holding her just a little tighter.

And this time, he wasn’t saying it as something fragile or fleeting.

He was saying it as a promise.

He would tell her tomorrow. And the day after that. And on ordinary Tuesdays when nothing special had happened. He would say it in arguments and in laughter, in kitchens and doorways and half-asleep murmurs before dawn.

He would tell her forever.

Because loving her wasn’t the difficult part.

Staying. Trying. Choosing her every single day—that was the work.

He looked like a nervous wreck. While the look in his eye hinted at a familiar vulnerability she had seen in her friends in their youth (in Peter especially), he didn't have nearly as much gall or fight as they did. And then, of course, she thought of James. She hadn't known him when he was young, but she knew his story now like the back of her own hand. She knew herself how much James had helped not only her, but Peter too.

If Tina hadn't taken the job at the hotel to get Peter out of trouble, maybe they wouldn't be in this mess right now. Maybe things would be different. Worse. Better. Who could say?

There was a pause on the line, like he expected her to push back, to argue, to soften him into agreement. But he held his ground anyway, jaw tightening slightly as he stared out at the dim glow of the streetlights beyond the window. He could always go on his run later if she still needed space from him—if she was still afraid of him, if she was simply tired of him. He could sleep in the hotel. Or at Smee’s place. Anywhere that wasn’t an intrusion on her life.

He just… couldn’t let her walk alone.

And still, his mind wouldn’t settle.

He didn’t know what to do with her “I love you” anymore.

It had once felt so simple. So absolute. A truth he could lean on when everything else felt unstable. Back then, it had anchored him—pulled him back into himself, grounded him in something better than whatever he used to be.

Now it lingered differently.

Not warm. Not steady.

Just uncertain.

He hated that he doubted it. Hated that something in him kept turning it over, testing it, as if it might break under pressure and reveal something he didn’t want to see. He didn’t want to question her. He didn’t want to question them. But the feeling had changed, whether he admitted it or not.

And that scared him more than anything else.

A breath slipped out of him, quieter now.

“…I love you too,” he said finally.

The words landed, but not like they used to.

The restaurant had been bustling, filled with romantic couples testing waters and prodding at feelings. Tables were close, staff were rushed off their feet, steam and hot food filled the air.

Tina and James' bed was a stark contrast. Quiet, slow, private.

They had made it through their date without any fuss. Hands were gently held, giggles exchanged. It all felt normal.

Tina and James hadn't quite made it to putting on pyjamas yet, but they had made it to the top of their bed. Tina's hair, once tied up in elaborate curls and pins, now unfurled across her shoulders. Her dress was hiked up to her knees. James' tie had been loosened and the top button of his shirt undone. Both of their socks lay in a little bundle on the floor at the foot of the bed.

It was blissfully quiet. No heated emotions, no worry. Just Tina's head on James shoulder, and James' arm around her. Their knees touched. Tina played with James' fingers. Normal.

"That was fun," Tina said, glancing up at James with a sparkle in her eyes. "Although I definitely think I'll be having what you had next time."

When Tina began absentmindedly playing with James’s fingers, it wasn’t dramatic or deliberate. It was familiar. Muscle memory. The kind of touch that said I know you without needing to speak. More importantly, it felt safe. Her thumb traced slow circles over his knuckles, and he felt something inside him finally unclench.

He leaned forward, nuzzling into the crook of her neck, breathing her in like he had been holding his breath for months. A soft chuckle slipped past his lips, warm against her skin.

“Well… it was rather tasty,” he admitted when she teased that next time she’d just order whatever he was having.

Next time.

The words settled between them gently, but they carried weight. He smiled, not just at the joke, but at the quiet certainty behind it. There would be a next time. And another. And another.

“Tina…” he said softly after a moment.

The way he said her name made her look at him.

“You know how I was gone for a few hours before our date? I told you it was business related, but actually…” His hand drifted down, his thumb rubbing nervously over his wedding band. He swallowed. It was ridiculous, really—he’d faced far more intimidating things in his life—but somehow this made him nervous.

“I, uh—” He huffed out a small breath, almost laughing at himself. “I did something. I wanted to do something to prove my love to you. Something permanent.”

His fingers turned slightly, revealing the faint redness still surrounding the ink that now circled his ring finger. A tattooed band. Simple. Unbreakable.

“I had my wedding band tattooed on,” he said quietly. “So I can never take it off. Not by accident. Not in anger. Not in weakness.” His eyes lifted to hers, vulnerable in a way he rarely allowed himself to be. “I just want you to know… I am yours. Forever. Even beyond ‘death do us part.’”

His voice softened on the last words.

“I love you so much, Tina.”

This might have been easier to ask if things had been easier between them. Tina knew that James was a good man. She knew if anyone was going to help someone down on their luck it was him. She had seen it with her own eyes enough times. The problem, right now, was her ego, and their relationship - there was a very slight chance that this would lead to nothing more than an argument. That's what Tina was really worried about.

"I think he's, like, eighteen but he doesn't have anywhere to stay. We checked the Youth Hostel and the guy was, honestly, just a dickhead but they didn't have beds left and he's... like, sleeping on the street. I don't know how he hasn't been eaten alive yet..."

Tina, aware that she was rambling now, shook her head, sighed heavily, and kicked a nearby rock out of the way.

"What I mean to say is-- is there a spare room at the hotel for a few nights? That he could stay in until the hostel has something free? Please?"

"I'll pay for the room. I just... don't want him getting into trouble."

“I will make sure he gets a proper room and food. In exchange, I expect him to work for us—it will give him the feeling that he’s earning his stay. Otherwise, he’ll be eaten by guilt. I was the same.”

“There are enough rooms. We can make his stay permanent, as long as he’s willing to work. I assume you’ll show him the ropes. And you’re still making the beds—I know how much you hate it, but let him help you with that. It’ll be done more swiftly.”

“Anything else you need?”

Finally, she whispered, "Oh... you are gonna get eaten alive..." Did this boy have no survival skills whatsoever? It wasn't a threat, but a very serious observation.

"Just... go sit over there for a minute and don't touch anything and don't talk to anyone," she said, nodding to a bench nearby. She very well may regret calling James about this.

When Arthur did as instructed, she picked up the phone, nervously twirling hair while she waited for James to answer. "Hey…" she cooed unconvincingly. Things had not been great between them. This could very well lead to another argument. "I, uh… I need a favour."

James was more than surprised to hear his wife over the phone. He and she hadn’t been communicating well lately—there had been a growing distance between them that neither of them seemed able to bridge. Most of it showed in the small, painful things: her flinching at his touch, almost instinctively, and him becoming so overwhelmed by panic in response that he would sometimes have to physically leave the room just to steady his thoughts.

It wasn’t anger that drove him away in those moments. It was something messier—confusion, hurt, and the constant fear that anything he did might only make things worse. So he kept his distance too, even when every part of him wanted to reach out and fix what was slipping through his fingers.

When the phone rang, he hadn’t expected to see her name. And even more surprising was that he had the courage to answer.

For a moment after she spoke, he said nothing. The silence stretched, heavy and uncertain, as if he were trying to find footing on unstable ground. His grip tightened slightly on the phone, his mind catching up slowly to the fact that she had called him at all.

He hadn’t spoken for a long minute before sheepishly adding, “A favor? What kind of favor?”

His voice was careful, almost hesitant, as though he was afraid that even the tone might push her further away. There was a flicker of something vulnerable beneath it—hope, maybe, or dread.

What could it possibly be that Tina needed from him, after everything that had been left unsaid between them? And more importantly, was it something he could still give without breaking whatever fragile thread remained between them?

He would probably be able to talk about his wife for hours, but right now that wouldn't be the case. He had a business meeting coming up and he was so nervous to leave her. How was he going to survive leaving without her? But he couldn't take her with him. And even if he wanted to, that wouldn't be an option because he would have to see men ogling her up and he would probably snap if that was the case. Like, that's his wife. So when the car keys fell into Guido's hands, he just nodded. "Well, you can check everything. I don't mind paying extra. Just making sure that the car will run when I go to this business meeting next week."