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Swan keeps talking about how much she cares for the queen, so it’s an ordinary date night in that sense. “I think I might really love her. And it’s…something I need to explore.”
“You want to be gal pals.” It’s the trendy version of best friends, from what Hook can garner. Snow leaves magazines on the loft’s bathroom floor, and he’s garnered a wealth of knowledge about popular culture during their weeks dating. He’s rather proud of it, actually, a real connection between Swan and him that surprises her all the time. “Like Ellen and Portia.”
Swan’s mouth forms a perfect ‘o’ for a moment. “Exactly like Ellen and Portia. Is that what the cool kids are calling it these days?”
Mission accomplished. Swan thinks he’s cool, which Henry assures him is a good thing. “I still…I want us to still be friends,” Swan says, reaching for his hand. “I care about you.”
Swan wants him to be sure that her new gal pal won’t supersede their relationship, and he’s touched by the effort. And she cares about him, which is as near to a declaration of love that anyone will ever get from Emma Swan. “And I love you passionately and always will. If you recall, I traded my ship for you.” He keeps his face somber, soulful, a Killian Jones Original.
Swan twitches. “Right. I’m…uh…I’m gonna head out now. To go do…the gal pals thing.”
“But it’s date night!” Hook protests. “You don’t usually run out to see Regina until at we’ve at least put the movie on.”
“I don’t think that’s wise today, Killian,” Swan says, and he sighs deeply and struggles with the remote. Netflix is recommending something called FRIENDS.
Onscreen, one of the characters is speaking of being left by his wife for another woman. Hook laughs.What sort of fool doesn’t notice that someone so close to him loves another? And a woman, no less?
He’s leaning back on the couch in the loft, flask in hand as he snickers at the screen, as Swan walks into the house, hand in hand with her new gal pal. They’re leaning in close (as though Regina has something in her eye, perhaps? Her Majesty is so very high-maintenance) when Regina catches sight of him. “The pirate is still here,” she says, lip curling.
“Oh! Hook.” Swan jumps back from Regina and turns around, face flushed. “What are you doing here?”
“Having our date. Alone. With devilishly handsome company.” He flashes them both a charming smile and both look unimpressed. “But I’ll leave you two to it. I can be supportive.” He slinks out of the apartment, already scowling at the idea of having to give up even more Swan time for the queen.
It’s as though she doesn’t understand what a prize he is.
“How are you handling the whole…my moms thing?” Henry asks when Hook sits down opposite him. The lad has become less tolerant of him since his memories had returned, and Hook has never done well with hostile lads. There had been that time that Baelfire had hurt him truly deeply and he’d had to hand him off to Pan for it, and of course the herd of Lost Boys he’s spent years culling. Henry is more of a challenge than any of them, tight-lipped smiles that gleam of menace and outright rejection of nearly every outing Hook has been gracious enough to invite him on (well, at Swan’s behest, of course).
It’s like dealing with a smaller version of Regina, and Hook doesn’t do well with either one. “I think it’s admirable that Emma is trying so hard with her,” he says, and decides it may not be enough to ingratiate himself with his girlfriend’s son. “They appear to be quite friendly these days.”
“Yeah. Friendly.” Henry is giving him that smile again. “Maybe they’ll get married.”
Here it is. The boy is beginning to accept that his intentions are serious. Hook bobs his head, smiling. “It’s something I’ve considered, yes. I thought I’d give Emma a bit more time before I popped the question. We’ve only finished one date so far, and that was while Regina was still angry with her. But I’m glad I have your blessing already, lad.”
Henry’s eyebrows seem to rise higher and higher as Hook speaks, and Hook is irritable by the time he’s done kowtowing to the boy. It’s a relief when he says, smiling again, “Yeah, sure. You have my blessing to pop the question.” He’s still grinning as he finishes his cocoa and saunters out of Granny’s.
David approaches him a few days later, walks beside him with an easy grin and a furrowed brow, and he says without preamble, “Henry says you still seem to think that you and Emma are dating.”
“David.” Hook claps a friendly hand on his shoulder. “Are we still doing this? I know you say you don’t like me, but Emma does, and that’s all I care about.” He smirks with the confidence of someone who’s been unequivocally chosen by Emma Swan. “You’re stuck with me, mate. For the rest of our lives, if I have my way.”
A thought occurs to him. “Ah, you haven’t seen Emma lately, have you? She’s been so busy with Regina that she’s barely been picking up my calls. You know how gal pals can be.” Snow has all those women flitting around her all the time, baby groups and the like, and he offers a commiserating grin. “I’m beginning to regret ever encouraging this friendship business.”
David stares at him for a long moment, and then says, what looks like a poker face in place, “I’ll pass on the message.”
Ruby from the diner gives him a copy of a book called He’s Just Not That Into You. He’s rather perplexed about that; he’d thought that he’d been flirting just enough with her that she would have known that he would, indeed, be “into her” if he hadn’t been attached.
He’s still attempting to get in touch with Swan. She’s been decidedly standoffish of late, and Hook would be worried if he didn’t know that Swan knows exactly how persistent he is. It’s his greatest character trait, and women have two ways of reacting to it: by responding accordingly, or by playing hard to get.
Swan, notably, has always been delightfully hard to get, as have a surprising number of women in this town. Perhaps it’s a Storybrooke cultural matter, and he can respect local cultures when they suit him. Swan had eventually given in to his irresistible and never-wavering charms, and that’s all that matters.
He decides that his next mode of action will be to surprise her in her home with a rose, just like the one they’d had on their one successful date with his evil hand (He’s decided that it must have been evil after all. Rumple had had nefarious plans all along, so he’d just been manipulated into them from the start. He’s a hero now. He sold his ship to find Swan). So he borrows a key from a very helpful Henry and unlocks the door to the loft.
He enters the loft and Swan’s head pops up from the couch. “Who’s…Hook?” she demands. “What are you doing here?”
He may be staring a bit more than a gentleman would, but he’s no gentleman. She’s clad only in underwear, a lacy little number he’d never been privileged to see (We need time, she’d told him, flipping through his hospital results. She’d sent him there the day before for some sort of testing he hadn’t quite understood, and he’s been prescribed medicines that he’s already forgotten about. And then had come the cancelled date nights to spend time with Regina).
And then another head pops up, another scantily-clad woman. Regina smiles at him, long and slow, the same smile Henry had had when he’d given him the key. She licks her lips very deliberately, and Hook smirks, pleased that she isn’t hiding her obvious attraction to him any longer. “You make for a stunning pair,” he allows. The queen may be far from a friend, but he can appreciate her beauty regardless.
His eyes rove down to admire her supple breasts, and Swan shoves her back down. “Hey,” she says warningly, and she’s glaring at him now as though he’s moving in on her…
…Right. She’d never seemed to care much about him admiring other women before. Maybe they’ve reached a new stage of their relationship. “Do you two often sleep together like this?” he asks, relaxing. Swan must have just gotten cold feet after her admission that she cares about him. He can work with cold feet.
“Constantly. Go away,” Regina calls from where Swan is still holding her down. Her voice is muffled, and Swan’s shoulders are tensing up while she speaks. Regina chuckles, and Swan actually begins to shake…with rage, Hook assumes.
Ha. Swan doesn’t like Regina making the rules after all. Gal pals. Perhaps resting together barely clothed is another gal pal pastime. It would explain all those advertisements he’s seen in magazines of girls in their underwear having pillow fights. He wonders if the women would be interested in a menage a trois.
Unlikely, he decides. Swan doesn’t seem like the sharing type, and really, who’d want to share when they have him?
Swan has a birthday event several weeks later, a quiet party for family only. Henry opens the door for him and rolls his eyes. “Hook showed up,” he calls, and he’s warming on Hook even more, if the secret smile on his face is anything to measure by.
“Are you serious?” Swan says from somewhere inside. “Fine. I don’t care.” She’s tough to wear down, but Hook thinks he’s nearly there again. Maybe those hospital results weren’t as bad as she’d said they were.
She’s on the couch when he comes in, Regina’s arm around her, and she’s giving Regina a friendly peck on the lips. A long peck on the lips. With her tongue. He’s seen some other gal pal photos like that on the Celeb Encounters! page of Snow’s magazines, and he waits politely until they finish, Regina licking Swan’s lips as she parts from her.
He can deal with Regina. He’s willing to spend the rest of his life dealing with Regina. If Swan’s afraid to commit to him, he’s more than glad to take the first step.
He circles the couch and fiddles in his pocket until he finds the ring box, and he opens it and gets down on one knee.
Snow makes a sound like a gasping sob of laughter- joy, of course, that her daughter will soon be a bride- and Hook looks up at Swan, patiently waits again until she stops kissing Regina, and opens the box. “Marry me, my love.”
Swan looks overcome with emotion, as though she doesn’t know if she should laugh or cry. Hook beams at her. Regina says, “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” and he sees purple smoke around him before he’s suddenly pinwheeling wildly in midair a half mile away, and dropping deep into the freezing cold sea.
That’s it. Enough of this gal pal business; he has some pride buried deep down. He’s going to have to give Swan a choice: it’s him or Regina. True love (eventually) or some friend who won’t even support the most meaningful relationship in her life?
Aye, he knows who she’ll choose.