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Secret Santa for Melody 2016 (OUAT-Hook) 2/2 Updated 3/9/17


Bongo

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Merry Christmas Melody!

I know Hook wasn't your top choice, but I wasn't familiar with any of the other fandoms. As it was, I had to spend the week binge watching OUAT (which was not a bad week). I tried to include the little things you like, and one more detail you requested is due to come in the second part. 

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The mood in Granny’s was tense. David and Mary Margaret sat together at a booth, untouched food in front of them and a dozing infant lying in a carrier on the table. Their faces were somber and their voices were strained when they talked, which hadn’t happened now for several minutes. No one, in fact was speaking. Everyone was lost in their own heads, recounting all the latest news. A stolen dwarf ax was now intertwined into the complicated web that was plan of the Dark One.

 Henry was at the counter, slowly spinning around the bar stool. He was blissfully unaware of the fact that the only thing stopping Killian “Hook” Jones, the lone other perched on the stools with him, from pushing him off the stool in annoyance was Hook’s desire to not anger Henry’s mother any more than he had to.

“Would you stop messing around like a bloody spinning top already?” he finally snapped, earning himself a glare from David and an exasperated “Hey!” from Mary Margaret, but he was in no mood to listen to protestations from the boy’s distraught grandparents. “He’s driving me up a wall, and I’m trying to think,” he argued in huff. “We’re in a mess of trouble here, and playing around, acting like a child is no way to help.”

“It’s okay,” Henry piped up quickly, when both of his grandparents opened their mouths to continue their defense. He had stopped spinning. “Hook’s right. We need to think of some way to help Mom and I’m being distracting. Sorry.”

The last part was directed at the pirate, who nodded curtly in his direction before returning to his former position, hunched over the counter with one hand pinching the bridge of his nose and his face screwed up in concentration.

Henry’s face, focused on his mother’s boyfriend, was screwed up a little too, though not in concentration. His face was a result of concern. Not for his mother, though saving her from her inner darkness was the one nagging need that had filled his mind for some time now, but for Hook. His hand was moving lower on his nose, no longer pinching the bridge but rubbing the nostrils. His eyebrows were moving up his forehead and his eyes were slowly falling closed. If Henry didn’t know better he would think Hook was about to –

Httsch!”

Every eye in the room turned to look at him. Mary Margaret even let out an automatic “God bless you,” that sent a grimace to his face and was not thanked.

He hadn’t mentioned it, hadn’t felt like he had any room to complain in the aftermath of discovering the love of his life was the Dark One and had stolen his and the entire towns’ memories, but he had been coming down sick for the last couple days. A pounding head had been the true culprit of his foul mood, not Henry’s fidgeting, though he would never admit to it. His near silence was a result of his fear that the buzzing in his sinuses and itch in his throat would be evident in his voice, and hunched posture was from being bone-deep tired. But all was passed off as stress and concern.

Fear.

Anger.

These were feelings they were all having. They were all scared, all furious at the situation. Fear and anger didn’t make Hook the weak link. Sickness did.

So he couldn’t be sick. Wouldn’t be. But even as he thought this, the terrible buzzing, annoying but largely ignorable, kicked up another notch. He had been sneezing for a couple days now. The itch never fully went away, just lay dormant in the center of his face until it flared up and sent him into paroxysms of sneezing. Then he would get it under control again, only to have the whole thing start back up again within the hour.

So far he had managed to hide it from the rest of them. He had been spending more and more time alone, taking breaks to “brood” outside when they were brainstorming in the diner or taking extra-long bathroom breaks. But his control was beginning to falter.

The itch flared again and his nostrils twitched against his control once, twice, before he clamped the fingers of his intact hand over them in an attempt to hold on to some dignity. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hold off the sneezes, not with how badly they were itching to get out, but every ounce of self control he held over his own body was another once of that precious dignity he maintained.

”Hxxt! Huhhsxt! Uxt! Uxt! Uxt!”

Everyone was staring at him. He stared purposely ahead, past Granny’s curious face behind the counter to the chipped and faded wallpaper behind her. “Pardon me,” he said, accent slightly thicker with the congestion he was trying to hide. Granny handed over a napkin, which he took wordlessly and wiped at his almost -but not quite-running nose, before dropping his hand back to his lap.

“Killian-“ Mary Margaret began, but she was interrupted again. Not, this time, but Hook himself. But by Henry, for whom Hook had never been so grateful.

“Maybe we should be looking at all the pieces individually,” he suggested. He glanced quickly at Hook, and smiled shyly at the open thankful look Hook gave him. “Instead of what do an axe and Camelot and a toadstool have to do with each other, but what could she want with an axe. Just an axe. Then why would she have brought all the people from Camelot back. And try to figure out if any of them have overlap.”

It wasn’t the worst idea they had, so Leroy began outlining the various things one could do with a dwarf axe, not the least of which was access fairy dust. That was his hypothesis.

The soon heated debate over what the Dark One, a being infused with the most powerful dark magic in the world, would want with fairy dust covered up the sound of the phone ringing and of Granny’s pen scratching. Soon though, all voices abruptly came to an end when a paper bag was placed in front of Hook.

“Order up,” she said flatly.

“What is this?”

“Carry out. Emma called it in. And she wants you to bring it to her.”

Hook glanced at Mary Margaret and David, who shrugged, before slicing his hook into the bag and making himself a nice little handle.  Why not, if they were at a loss for ideas, not venture into the belly of the beast and find out from the Dark One herself some new clues as to her end game. And if he was risking his life, though Hook did doubt Emma (If there was any Emma left) would hurt him, all the better to do it with fries from Granny’s.

TBC.

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Omg Bongo!! First off thank you for taking the time to watch the show, purely to write the fic, I really appreciate that!! :heart: 

I love the fic so thank you so much! We've never really talked before but your an amazing writer everyone is so in character! Like literally this could be an episode in season 5, little pieces of the plot are so cleverly woven into it! Also I really love how you wrote Hook, I love your descriptions of his illness and him trying to hide it :blush: I'm really pumped for the next part, just thank you so much! We all need a sneezy Hook in our lives :bleh:

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OH MY GOD :jawdrop: there is not enough OUAT here, this is so good! You write the characters so well, I think Killian would act like this is he was really sick try and hide it from everyone being the tough guy.

Can't wait for more!

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  • 2 months later...

My heart almost stopped when I saw this! There is so little great OUAT sneezefics with Killian:wub: He is SUCH a dreamboat! Can't wait to see more??

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Sorry this took so long to finish. Real life had definitely gotten in the way. Jotting a quick disclaimer that I stole a scene from the episode “Siege Perilous” where Emma transforms a bag of take out into a full spread on the table. And I swear I had a great idea of where this was going, but the muse has abandoned me for bigger and better things. I hope this ending is ok!

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Emma opened the door before he could even raise a fist to knock. She gave him a cool smile, which he did not return. “Stop popping up like that,” Hook snapped, pushing past her to drop his bag of food on the table.

“Sorry,” she replied in a tone that conveyed no apology whatsoever. “I was just expecting you.”

“Obviously.” Hook gestured with his good hand to the food. “Here’s your dinner. Now what do you really want?”

“To start, fries.” She reached into the paper bag and pulled out a Styrofoam container. “Then a burger, and maybe after,” she gave him a side-eyed glance, “dessert.”

“Emma,” Hook growled, and she frowned, glancing at the table. Suddenly it was laid with a plaid tablecloth and the food was set out on plates with two glasses of wine.

“Sorry, was I taking too long?” She blinked innocently.

“You know that isn’t what I meant.” Hook was in no mood to play games with Emma. He loved her, and wanted to save her, but didn’t have the patience to deal with her in this twisted form. Not tonight. Not when he felt tired and shivery, weak.

“I just wanted to talk. Have a dinner like old times.”

Hook shook his head, and stars danced along his vision. “This isn’t like old times.”

Another faux0innocent blink, and she was standing in front of him looking like the old Emma. Gone were the black leather and severe silvery blond bun, replaced with a light pink dress and flowing honey ponytail. “Better?” she asked.

It would have been so easy to say yes. So easy to fall into the comforting arms of his true love. But she wasn’t there. Not really. This Emma was just a cold illusion.

Seconds ticked by, feeling like hours to Hook, but Emma’s expression showed no impatience. “Sit.” She nodded to the table. They sat across from each other. Emma smiled again.

“What did you want to talk about?” Hook sniffed hard, feeling the recurrent itch begin to creep back. He reached for his wine glass just as Emma reached for a fry.

“Nothing. Anything.” Her eyes met his. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

He took a sip of what he assumed would be red wine, but when the sweet tang reached his tongue, he pulled the glass back in surprise. The wine was gone, replace with orange juice.

“I just wanted to hear your voice,” Emma repeated, “hoarse and congested though it may be.” Hook opened his mouth to argue, but before he could, “you’re ill.”

“I am not ill,” he snapped. The tickle itch had spread, tendrils reaching down his throat and bringing with them the need to clear his throat. Which he did, glaring at Emma as he did so.

“If you say so,” she agreed delicately. “And God bless you.”

Sure enough, his glare was faltering as the tickling flared up again, stronger than before and refusing to back away with any amount of sniffling He turned away from her and “h’xxt htsch etxxst!”

When he was finished, her eyebrows were raised slightly and her lips were curled upwards. “I fail to see the humor,” Hook informed her.

Her mouth found its neutral position again. “Sorry.” She glanced at his burger, and it became a bowl of soup. “Does that make up for it?”

“Are you trying,” Hook fought to keep his tone calm as anger threatened to take over, “to take care of me?”

“Of course.” Emma’s tone feigned confusion and offense. “And ble-“

“Don’t,” Hook snapped. He pulled a handkerchief out the pocket of his leather jacket. “htschh! Hxxt-hxxt-hxxt!

When he caught his breath, Emma gave him a bemused look and held her hands up as if to say “see? I didn’t say anything.”

Hook took a calming breath, counted to five, and stood up.

“Where are you going?” Emma demanded.

“I do not need your care, dark one.” And with that, he left her sitting at a table set with food, face calm but with the hard glint in her eyes he had come to know in these last weeks.”

“Feel better, pirate,” she called after him. “Rest your voice.” The last part came out almost as a threat, though he could not hear her. “I’ll hear it again soon.”

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Yes. Yes. Yes! Thank you so much for finishing this:notworthy: It was so great! Hope to see more in the future?

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This awesome! Dark Emma trying to take care of Hook while he is resisting. OMG I just can't. This is too delicious. Especially those stifled sneezes.

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