#deputyhook

Emma’s head spins a little, but she forces herself to focus on the way Killian’s fingers tighten on her shoulder, as if holding to her like a drowning man to a life belt. His face has gone pale, his lips quivering slightly, and she has never seen him so distressed - not even in the Underworld, heartbreak in his eyes and Milah’s name on his lips. He takes a tentative step toward the woman, and Emma has to gently push him so he keeps going, so he plants himself in front of the woman.

She looks up at him with surprised eyes, before a small frown settles on her brows as she looks at the man in front of her. Emma sees the resemblance more clearly from up close - they share the same bright, blue eyes, and nose, and hair. Hers falls in beautiful curls around her face, and her lips stretch into a tentative, quivering smile, dimples in her cheeks as she takes him in.

“Killian?” she asks, unsure.

Killian makes for replying something that turns into a mess of wordless sounds, lost for words for the first time since Emma met him, before he simply goes for a hug. His arms wrap around his mother’s waist, his face pressed to her neck, shoulders slumped.

Emma has to look away for a moment, tongue darting to her upper lip as she ignores the way her vision goes blurry all of a sudden. She remembers it all too well - rushing Henry into clothes and out of the hospital, standing still in the middle of the street. How her mother had reached for her face, her father had cradled the back of her head in his hand. The hug, stiff and unfamiliar, and her mind running with too many thoughts at once. How it’d felt wrong and awkward and how she still didn’t believe it, but refused to say it out loud, to break their hearts even more.

She find Granny’s eyes across the room, the older woman pouring coffee into cups on the other side of the counter. She smiles to Emma, kind and warm, and she would probably squeeze her hand too in a comforting manner if they were closer. She’s taken to Emma in the time since she broke the curse, the closest thing she’ll ever get to a grandmother, and Emma is glad that she is here now instead of her parents - less fussy but still as protective, keeping an eye on her even as she busies herself with her array of new patrons.

When Emma looks back to the Jones (oh, god), they are no longer hugging, his mother’s hand cupping his cheeks as she stares at him with no small amount of pride and wonder in her wet eyes. A single tear rolls down Killian’s cheek, a broken and throaty chuckle escaping him when she brushes a thumb against the scar next to his nose with a disapproving tut.

Killian looks like he has de-aged a decade or two (a century or two), soft smiles and sad eyes and making himself smaller than he actually is. Emma’s heart aches for him, in ways she didn’t think possible, yet she stops herself before reaching for him, knows this moment is not for her to break.

Still, Killian must see her moving from the corner of his eye, for he stops whispering sweet words to his mother so he can glance at her. He asks her to move closer with a tiny nod, and Emma does so with a shyness that is rare for her. Killian’s hook comes to rest on the small of her back, but Emma doesn’t have the time to wonder if he is hiding it from view before his mother is looking at her curiously.

“Mama, this is Emma.” And then, puffing his chest a little, “My True Love.”

She wants to smirk and poke fun at him - she wants to kiss him and tell him how much she loves him, but then his mother’s eyes travel between Emma’s face and her son, a little widen and surprised, and the words die on Emma’s tongue. She has never been introduced in such a way before - he’s never claimed her so blatantly, so proudly.

“Oh my gods,” the woman replies. Emma finds herself engulfed in a tight hug only seconds later. “Nice to meet you, darling.”

…

There is still so much to be done before calling it a night, but Emma convinces Killian he isn’t that needed and they can cope without him for a few hours. He argues for the sake of it more than anything, quickly convinced to take his mother home and away from that mess. They need their time alone, to talk, to share so many things at once, and he very much can’t do that with so many prying eyes around them. So he agrees quietly, and kisses her goodbye before leading his mother outside.

Emma sighs once they’re gone, rubbing her face with both hands, and eagerly accepts the cup of warm coffee Granny gives her. Together they do a final round of the bed and breakfast, making sure that everyone is settling well and not in need of anything. By the time they are done, Granny stretches her back, hands on her hips, and declares that she is getting too old for this, has seen too much. Emma manages to get a few stories out of her, of the war against Regina, before her father comes back from the town hall. He looks as exhausted as Emma feels, and they both agree to call it a day after debriefing the events of the day. They agree to meet again in the morning, and then David kisses her cheek and bids her goodnight before going home. Emma finishes her cup of coffee, and does the same.

Henry’s sneakers are in the middle of the entrance when she comes home, and Emma kicks them to the side before she gets rid of her own shoes with a little groan of satisfaction. The house is quiet and dark but for the one lamp in the living room, Killian and his mother both staring at her as she makes her way inside. They’ve both been crying, that much is certain - his mother’s eyes still red and puffy while Killian doesn’t look any better - but he holds his mother’s hand in his and doesn’t let go even as he smiles to Emma.

“Good evening, love.”

She smiles too as she sits next to him on the couch, her tight pressed to his. “Everything okay?” she asks, even if she knows the issue goes deeper than a simple yes-no question.

Still, Killian nods, and replies, “I was just telling Mama about our first adventures in the Enchanted Forest.”

She hums under her breath and settles more comfortably in the couch, taking her phone out to send a quick text to Henry. He replies ‘in my bedroom. btw our family tree is fucked up,’ which makes her snort so much she forgets to chastise him about his language.

The next two hours or so are spent with Killian telling his mother everything there is to know about their latest adventures, Emma only chiming in every so often for a comment or a snippy retort. He rolls his eyes at her with a smirk of his own, but doesn’t stop his tale until Camelot, until his voice breaks over the words and Emma finishes for him. She doesn’t spend time on the details, still too recent and hurtful, but she gets the job done alright, leaving his mother to nod and ponder on everything. It is, after all, quite a lot to take in.

She wipes the tears away from her cheeks with one hand, the other still in Killian’s, and Emma decides to put them both out of their misery by asking if it may be time to go to bed. Everyone agrees and they get the guest room ready for her before Emma sneaks away to give them some privacy and kiss Henry goodnight.

She’s already in her PJs, her face clean of makeup, sitting on the bed and checking her texts, when Killian comes into the room. He closes the door behind him before leaning against it, eyes closed as he sighs deeply. He doesn’t move, head tilt back.

“You okay?”

“Aye,” he breathes. It takes him two more minutes before he finally pushes himself away from the door and starts stripping off his clothes. There is something peculiar about the dreadful Captain Hook only wearing grey sweatpants to sleep, Emma smirking a little when he comes to lie by her side, head in her lap as if begging to be petted. Her fingers find their way to his hair, making him purr happily.

“I’m exhausted,” he adds after a while.

Emma leans against the bed frame, still playing with his hair. “You and me both.”

She doesn’t ask - doesn’t even know where to begin, to be honest - but Killian has always been good at reading her mind. Or maybe he needs to share so badly that he doesn’t even need prompting. “I thought her dead. I -- all those centuries, I thought her dead when she was not.” He clears his throat, gets rid of the knot stuck there. “All those years he lied to us about it, that bastard,” and Emma doesn’t ask. Doesn’t have to.

Killian doesn’t offer more details than that, but hugs her thigh a little tighter, cuddles a little closer. They stay silent after that, relishing in each other’s company and comfort as they so often do. After a while, Emma shifts a little, and Killian lets her lie next to him, a sad smile on his lips when she kisses his cheek before she pulls him closer, his head against her collarbone. It is soft and warm, their private bubble against the world and, not for the first time, Emma wonders what is still keeping her away from asking Killian to officially moving in, beside the fears and anxieties rooted in her bones that will never truly go away.

“She’s beautiful,” Emma comments.

His smirk and raised eyebrow, the vain comment she can feel coming before he even says it, are all Emma needs to know Killian is okay. Or at least he will be, soon.

And it’s all that matters.

…

Killian is still asleep when she wakes up the following morning, his mouth opened into a silent snore and his arm holding her to his chest. She has to move slowly, inch by inch, to escape his embrace without waking him up - god knows he needs some rest. They both do, after too many days unable to sleep, but Emma still has work to do, royal duties she cannot put aside no matter how warm her pirate and how comfortable her bed.

She takes a quick shower and puts on some clothes, grabbing her phone, keys and sheriff badge before she leans over Killian and kisses his bare shoulder. He stirs in his sleep but doesn’t wake up, and so Emma sneaks out of the room.

Henry is already eating breakfast when she goes to the kitchen, greeting her before he focuses back on his phone. She starts the coffee machine and slips two slices of bread in the toaster, chitchatting with her son until he grabs his school backpack and wishes her a nice day. Sometimes, she misses the time when she was walking him to the bus stop, even more so when she remembers he walks to Violet’s house first, then to school. Her boy, so grown up.

Emma is going through her phone, checking texts and emails and the news as she sips on her cup of coffee, when the stairs start creaking loudly. She glances to the side quickly, before doing a double take when Killian is not the one to make his way to the kitchen. His mother is wrapped in a fluffy nightgown, her feet bar against the cold tiles and her arms folded on her chest. She smiles at Emma, kind and a little shy, before Emma motions for her to sit at the table.

“Did you sleep well?” Emma asks, feeling awkward and out-of-sorts.

Killian’s mother nod, and thanks her when Emma gives her a mug of coffee. “Very well, thank you. Those beds are way better than what I am used to.”

Her accent is the same as Killian’s and it makes Emma grin, along with what she just said. “One of the perks of this realm, really.” And then, with a wrinkle of her nose, “Killian didn’t give me your name.”

“Maureen. Maureen Jones.”

“Nice to meet you, Maureen.”

They both smile at each other, then Maureen decides to go on with, “So, True Love?”

A high-pitched laugh escapes Emma before she can swallow it down, one that makes her sound very much like her mother all of a sudden. Emma sighs then, trying to even the features on her face -- she is a grown-up woman in a serious relationship, she can handle talking about it with her boyfriend’s mother, surely.

“Apparently,” is all she finds to reply, shaking her head a little. “He shares the title with my son, actually.”

Is it supposed to be awkward, telling Maureen about the son she had with another man? It has never been a problem before; Killian and she don’t shy away from their past romantic lives. Still, Emma fears the questions that could follow, the discussion that she can’t even start with Killian quite yet -- about how she is fine with only having Henry, even if she has no idea how Killian would react.

“Fine young man,” Maureen replies with a nod, before she takes a sip of coffee. “I’m glad. That Killian found someone.”

Emma’s throat closes a little, as she swallows around the feeling arising in her. She has never looked for anyone’s approval, beside Henry’s -- she never really cared what people thought or said about her dating Captain Hook. But, still. It feels entirely different now, to have Killian’s mother approving of their relationship. Not that it changes anything, but it soothes Emma’s mind, if only a little.

She smiles around a sip of coffee, before she asks, “How was he? As a child?”

Maureen laughs a little, rolling her eyes to the heavens. “Wonderful. He was so bright, even as a wee boy. He loved it when I read stories to him, and when we danced. He was so sweet and quiet.”

“Quiet? Killian?” Emma can only smirk at that. There isn’t a day where he doesn’t have a quick retort on his lips, a sharp insult, a witty comment. She barely manages to picture him as a quiet boy, with his bright blue eyes and his love of adventure stories.

“Yes,” Maureen laughs too. “He wanted to be a knight. Probably to have some courtly love with a fair maiden, mind you. He spent hours with his wooden sword, trailing behind Liam…”

Emma must have visibly tense at the sound of Liam’s name, because Maureen stops in the middle of her sentence with a frown. Emma forces herself to chase the memories of the Underworld from her head, but they linger anyway -- the feeling of not being enough, of not deserving Killian, not being good enough for him. Her own insecurities taste like ash and gunpowder on her tongue, sparkled by the harsh words of a man who barely knew her yet meant the world to Killian.

“Killian took most of his personality from me,” Maureen goes on, carefully. “But I’m afraid Liam was too much like his father for his own good. Prideful. Easily prejudiced.”

Emma smiles sadly, even more so when Maureen grabs her hand on the table and squeezes gently. It doesn’t ease her fears -- nothing will ever erase them, at this point -- but it comforts her a little.

She is about to thank Maureen for her words, when Killian loudly tumbles down the stairs. He thankfully pulled on a t-shirt to go along with his sweatpants, but his hair in an artful mess on top of his head and he looks like he isn’t quite awake yet, eyes heavy with sleep. He makes his way toward the coffee machine, now definitely addicted to the stuff, but not without stopping next to Emma’s chair, hand on her shoulder and lips on her temple.

“Morning, love,” he mutters. “Hey, mama.”

“Hello, sweetheart,” she replies in that voice Emma has too when she talks to Henry. But then, with a tiny smirk, “I was telling Emma about the first time you tried to shave like a grown man.”

Killian groans loudly even as he pours himself a mug of coffee, which makes Emma laugh in return, then turns a pointed glare toward his mother. “I was five. This is slander.”

His mother grins at him now, and he rolls his eyes dramatically before plopping down on the seat next to Emma’s, making a scene of pouting and otherwise showing his discontentment. Maureen ignores him with a flick of her wrist before she focuses back on Emma and comes up with as many embarrassing childhood stories as she can.

Emma’s cheeks are hurting from laughing too much by the time she puts her mug in the sink and grabs her leather jacket. Killian trails behind up to the front door, only stopping her for a proper good morning/goodbye kiss before she opens the door.

“Are you certain I am not needed?”

“We managed just fine before you strutted your way into our lives.”

“Swan!” Killian looks offended for a moment, before he settles for, “I don’t strut.”

“Yes, yes, you do,” she replies with a smirk, rising on her tiptoes to kiss him. “Like a peacock.”

He makes a face, but it’s only halfhearted -- he gets to spend an entire day with his long-lost mother while they’ll be taking care of their new refugees. Anyone in their family would trade with him in the blink of an eye, and they both perfectly know it.

…

It takes about two weeks for them to find a little cottage for Maureen, and for her to take over Ruby’s job at Granny’s -- she gets along so well with Granny it’s almost worrying, but the older lady helps her fitting in quite nicely.