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There's a flurry of noise behind Emma's door after David knocks on it. When it swings open, she's not where he expects her to be; he has to adjust his sightline down several inches to meet her eyes. She's half bent over, the doorknob in one hand, tugging on her boot with the other.
"Am I late?" she asks, straightening up and glancing over at the clock they hung together last week. "Wait, I'm not late. You're early." She brushes her hair out of her face and gives him a harried smile. "Hi, Dad. C'mon in."
It's still a thrill to hear her say that, and he can't help but smile. "Hi, sweetheart." He steps past her and nods to Killian; the pirate is leaning against the back of the sofa, arms crossed, with the air of a man who's doing what he can to help by staying out of the way. "Killian."
"Dave," he says, returning the nod, a glint of amusement in his eyes.
Emma starts to close the door, then pauses. "Uh, Dad? Where's the baby? Tell me you didn't leave him on the hood of the pick-up like a cup of coffee."
He chuckles and shakes his head. "Change of plans. Your mother didn't feel like giving him up, so he's going to be the guest of honor."
"At his own baby shower." She steps out of the living room for a second, and comes back in fastening her earrings. "You know that's a thing that's supposed to happen before you have the baby, right?"
"My daughter, the traditionalist," he says, to get a rise out of her, because she knows as well as he does that events conspired against them in a big way. She rolls her eyes, and he takes that as a win. "But, in keeping with tradition, I still got kicked out, so instead of babysitting your brother, I've come to have a chat with your boyfriend."
Emma gets a look that can only be described as 'restrained panic' at the word "boyfriend," but she blinks and it passes. He wonder if she's never thought of Killian in those terms before, and, really, his daughter is completely amazing, but sometimes the blinders she puts on astonish him. "Don't worry, I'm not planning to hurt him." He glances over at Killian. "Not right away, anyway."
Killian raises his eyebrow and gives him a cocky-son-of-a-bitch grin, his stance shifting subtly to convey I'd like to see you try. Emma mutters, "Oh, god," and walks past them to pick up her jacket.
Sometimes, she makes it too easy.
He gathers Killian up with a look, and they walk out with Emma. On the sidewalk, she turns to David and asks, "Where are you heading?" (and almost makes it casual, but he recognizes a hint of sheriff's-department suspicion).
"The Rabbit Hole," he says, and claps Killian on the shoulder, just hard enough to make him react. Killian narrows his eyes at him, then turns to Emma.
"I'll see you later?" he asks, and her face softens.
"Yeah," she says, and rests a hand on his forearm. She glances over at David, and gives them both a crooked smile. "Don't get into trouble, you two."
"Wouldn't dream of it," David says, and she shakes her head, before heading for the loft.
At midafternoon on a Saturday, The Rabbit Hole is nowhere near capacity. David says, "Grab a table--I'll get us some drinks," and Killian nods, moving away.
While he waits for the drinks, he glances back out at the room. He's not even a little surprised to see that Killian's found a table at the far side of the room and has his back to the wall.
It's something he's noticed before, that Hook--Killian--tends to drift toward the periphery whenever there's a gathering.
David understands the impulse. Snow's the natural leader, the one people gravitate toward, the one who makes friends wherever she goes. It's easy to let yourself fade into the background when the woman you loves shines so brightly.
He's not sure Killian's reasons are quite the same as his own, but he knows he'll get over it soon enough. If standing by Emma's side means soaking up some of the spotlight, David's willing to bet Killian will consider it a small price to pay.
When he gets back to the table, David frees up one hand by setting down the two beer bottles, then passes a shot glass to Killian, keeping the other one for himself. Killian's eyebrows shoot up as he picks up the shot, rotating the glass to catch the light. "I thought you weren't one for the hard stuff, Dave."
"Not the swill you drink," David says, as he sits down. "But if you're going to be dating my daughter, the least I can do is try to keep your liver intact."
"Deleterious effects are part of the point," Killian says, with a wry look.
David shakes his head, but hold out the glass, and Killian clinks his own against it. "Fair winds and following seas," David says.
Killian grins and gives him a sharp nod. "To safe harbors and sleeping watchmen."
The whiskey only burns a little on the way down. David hooks a finger around the neck of one of the bottles and takes a pull, watching Killian give his own now-empty shot glass a look of considered approval.
"Something to be said for quality, right?"
"Aye. On occasion." Killian sets down the glass and reaches for the other beer bottle, resting his fingertips against it without picking it up. Without looking up from the label, he asks, "What's this all about, mate?"
"What, a guy can't have a drink with his daughter's paramour?"
Killian shapes the word paramour with his mouth, then gives David a narrow look. "You'll forgive me for doubting your intentions, as I suspect you of continuing to doubt mine."
David leans forward, taking a moment to center his bottle on a coaster, then looks back up at Killian. "When I got involved with Snow, I didn't just get involved with her. She had a whole extended family, including a werewolf and some very protective dwarves."
Killian twists his bottle with his fingertips, leaving rings of condensation on the tabletop. A frown creases his forehead as he stares at David. "I can't quite tell whether you're welcoming me to the family, or warning me off."
"Neither," David says, and smiles. He knows he's supposed to be the imposing father figure, put the fear of God into his daughter's suitor. But he's been through too much with Killian--seen too much of the way he treats David's little girl--and he can't keep up the act.
Instead, he settles back in his chair and takes another sip of his beer. "I can tell how much you mean to Emma, and she to you," he says. Killian blinks, his head rocking back a fraction, and David has to smile. "And given everything you've done for us, as far as I'm concerned, you're already part of the family."
Killian goes stock-still, then drops his eyes to the table, and David shakes his head. "I know, I know. 'You didn't do it for us.'"
He sees Killian's throat work as he swallows, then he glances back up at David. His voice, when he speaks, is quiet and a little rough. "I was going to say, 'thank you.'"
David holds his eyes and nods.
After a moment, David shrugs, and adds, "But anyway, it was an adjustment, finding my place among all those people." He tips the neck of his bottle at Killian and says, "I just wanted you to know... I get that."
Killian glances away, toying with his beer again. He finally picks it up and takes a drink, then looks back at David. Resting his elbow on the table, he lets the bottle dangle by the neck, and gestures at David with its base. "And so the prince lowers himself to drinking with a pirate."
There's a familiar sardonic twist to his mouth, but it doesn't reach his eyes, and there's no real sting to it.
David shrugs and takes another drink. "I wasn't always a prince," he says, and points his chin at Killian. "And you're not always a pirate." Killian opens his mouth, but David goes on with, "Prince Charles."
Killian breathes out a laugh, showing his teeth. "It wasn't my choice of alias, but I confess that my mind wasn't entirely on the subterfuge."
David holds up his hand. "I'm not sure I want to hear where this is going. She's still my daughter."
Killian's smile turns gentle, his eyes distant, and David remembers that expression on a different face at a campfire a lifetime ago and a world away. "She was radiant, mate. I couldn't keep my eyes off her."
"So, no change there," David says softly.
"None at all," Killian says, bowing his head.
They nurse their beers--David hadn't intended to drink much anyway, and Killian seems disinclined to lap him. He watches Killian rub his thumb idly over the ring on his index finger, and a thought occurs to him. "Which king was it?"
Killian blinks up at him. "Sorry?"
"Which king did you rebel against?"
"All of them." Killian spreads hand and hook in a theatrical gesture, and grins a shark's grin. "That's the point of being a pirate."
David's not quite buying it, but he lets it go. No need to open old wounds. "And now you're courting a princess."
"Scandalous, I know." Killian picks at the label on his beer bottle with his thumbnail, then glances over at David. "My brother would have had words for me about getting ideas above my station."
There's a sadness there, old but deep, lurking behind the light words. David wonders if he would have noticed it in Neverland, if he hadn't been wrapped up in the pain of the dreamshade and the fear of failing his family, if he hadn't seen everything Hook did through a haze of suspicion.
But if he can't change the past, he can do something about the present. "You know, I never doubted Prince Charles," he says, and Killian lifts his head. David waves a hand at him. "Not once did I think, 'this man is an imposter.' All I saw was a good man willing to walk through hell for the woman he loved."
Killian cocks his head at that. "Well, as a pirate, lying was well within my purview and a skill I practiced quite often," he says, his tone dry and didactic, but David doesn't miss the use of the past tense. "I'm pleased to know my subterfuge was sufficient to mislead a shepherd."
He ignores the sarcasm. "Not all of it was a lie," he says, and gives Killian a faint smile. "You would have done anything for your princess."
"Aye," he says, his voice low.
No change there, either.
"I wanted that," David says, and rubs at his chin. "I wanted to love someone so much that I would do anything on earth for them."
Killian breathes out a laugh. "And look where we are now, mate," he says, shaking his head.
"Yeah."
David studies him for a moment--the new clothes and the old jewelry, one foot in each world, and a tension that's been present since that whole mess with Gold went down. When the idea hits him, it's too good an opportunity to pass up, and he leans forward, resting his forearm on the table's edge. "I could pardon you, you know."
Killian pauses in the act of taking a drink, narrowing his eyes at him. "What?"
"In exchange for services rendered," David says, with a shrug. "I could absolve you of any crimes you committed against our kingdom."
"That's quite the list, mate. It would take some time." David just keeps looking at him, until Killian frowns. "Don't you bloody dare."
David spreads his hands, making a show of his sincere desire to help. "I could give you a letter of marque, make you a privateer for the crown."
"Which I would burn the second it left your hands," Killian says, and under the theatrical distaste, there's a hint of legitimate concern.
David takes Killian's shoulder in a firm grip, and says, earnestly, "No, really, I could make an honest man of you--"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait," he hears, and belatedly registers the sound of Emma's bootheels on the wooden floor. "Did you just--" David looks up at her, and Emma blinks at him and switches her attention to Killian. "Did he just propose to you?"
Killian barks out a laugh, his eyes shining. "Aye, love, he did, and in a fashion most mercenary and unbecoming to a prince, I'm afraid."
"Do I even want to know?" She holds up a hand. "No, I don't. I don't want to know. I just want some of whatever you're drinking."
"Fear not, Swan, my lack of virtue is fully intact," Killian says, and she covers her eyes briefly with her hand.
"So don't want to know." She takes a seat beside Killian, then picks up his empty shot glass and sniffs at it. "Let me guess--your idea."
"Your father's, actually," Killian says, gesturing to David with his hook.
She raises her eyebrows at David, then steals Killian's beer and takes a swig.
David checks his watch. "Did the party break up already?"
"There were--games?" she says, and looks vaguely uncomfortable. "Not really my thing."
She glances over at Killian, and he gives her a steady look, covering her hand with his. She smiles, faintly, and leans into him a little, her thigh resting against his.
So that's what that looks like from the outside.
He suddenly feels like an intruder, and downs the last of his beer. "I should probably get going, then," he says, standing, and they both look up at him.
"Oh, hey," Emma says, her brow creasing. "I didn't mean to interrupt…"
"You didn't," David says, and smiles at both of them. "But I am a sucker for baby-shower games."
He bends to press a quick kiss to the top of Emma's head, then looks over at Killian. "My offer still stands, you know."
"Bugger off, mate," he says, and Emma smacks his arm with the back of her hand.
He looks back just before leaving, to see that his daughter, apparently no stranger to piracy herself, is now in full possession of Killian's beer. Killian gives David a rueful nod, and David shakes his head as he steps outside.
