storybrooke_savior | for hook: people throw rocks at things that shine and life makes love look hard

For all the madness that she'd dealt with trying to get ready--second-guessing her dress, fighting with hair rollers and what little makeup she wore--Emma was strangely calm waiting in the booth at Tintern Abbey with a glass of wine and her phone for company. She'd gotten there early (mostly to make sure they could get a decent table) and between the wine, the atmosphere, and giving Delsin text-message dating advice for his own romantic outing, her frayed nerves were soothed.

Dealing with someone else's love life was, after all, much easier than dealing with her own.

At fifteen til seven, Emma put her phone on silent and slid it into her purse, focusing on sipping her wine and not fidgeting. It was difficult not to look down every few minutes just to fuss with the bodice of her dress and make sure her boobs were still in place (they had not, so far, shown any interest in going rogue) or tug and twist at a lock of the hair she'd curled for the first time in ages, but it was hard to find something else to do with her hands. She toyed with her wineglass instead, uncrossed and re-crossed her legs, tapped the heel of her shoe against the floor.

She snuck a peek at the time on her cell phone. Two minutes had passed since she'd put it up. Maybe he'd forgotten. She should've offered to pick him up, hell, she had a car now. Should she call him and see if he needed a ride? Would they be willing to hold her table if she had to step out?

...And this was exactly why she hated dating. It was fraught with self-inflicted pitfalls and anxiety, and she was an idiot, it wasn't even seven o'clock yet.

"Get a grip, Swan," she muttered to herself, taking a much healthier swallow of wine than the prim sips she'd previously enjoyed.

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While Emma was having a minor freak out inside, Hook was having one outside. He'd arrived 20 minutes earlier and had spent the time pacing in front of restaurant trying to get up the nerve to go inside. It was miniature performance of what he'd been doing for most of the day in his apartment.

With some help from his friends, he'd picked out some modern clothes for this date. While he wasn't familiar with the concept, he'd had it explained to him and it made him nervous. Their relationship depended on danger and peril...could they survive something as simple as dinner?

He still wore his hook and he ignored the looks he was getting from passersby for it and the pacing. There were far stranger people here in the city so he wasn't going to hide his namesake. That and it was far easier to use then the false hand that was comparable to a block of wood.

Finally, he took a deep breath and entered the restaurant. He was the infamous pirate Captain Hook...he was not going to be intimidate by dinner with the woman he loved. Of course, when he entered the restaurant, his smile turned completely besotted. Emma looked absolutely beautiful. And just as nervous as he felt.

Emma didn't notice that he'd come in right away, partially because she was distractedly fiddling with her phone to check the time (again) and partially because she was expecting, well, a pirate. It took several moments for her to feel the little tingle on the back of her neck, the silent indication that someone was watching her, and when she finally did look up, she was stunned speechless. She'd seen him in clothes other than his leathers, sure, but they were usually just work clothes. He looked...nice. And yet, somehow, still right. He'd just upgraded his usual wardrobe for the more modern equivalency.

Still her pirate, though.

"Hey!" she called warmly when she realized she was just staring at him in slack-jawed shock. "It--wow." She laughed softly, her tone moving a little closer towards flirtatious and teasing. "You clean up pretty good, Jones."

Red was certainly her color. The leather jacket had always looked beautiful but this shade of red really brought out her coloring. She was radiant. And hopefully, she was his.

He stared for a moment, beaming brightly, before he headed over to where she sat. His hook was put in the pocket of his jacket, not so much to hide it as to make sure he didn't hit anyone with it as his gaze was pretty much set on one thing. "Hello Emma. You look," he shook his head as he leaned in to kiss her cheek, "more radiant then the north star."

Edited 2014-10-02 02:42 (UTC)

Emma liked wearing red, though on her face, not quite so much, and his compliment made her blush. Or maybe it was the unexpected kiss on the cheek. Being blonde and having the complexion and that went with it, every little flush showed.

"Thank you," she replied, ducking her head a little, flashing a quick grin and sweeping a stray curl back behind her ear. "Must be the wine. I went ahead and got a drink, but, uh, you know." She swept her hand towards the seat across from her in the booth. She'd gotten a booth because it felt a little cozier. A little more date-like. "Catch up with me."

The flush was charming and Hook was already trying to think of way to make it appear again. It made Emma look younger and more innocent, and given what he knew of her history, he knew how special that was.

With a small nod, he followed her direction and took the seat across from her. "I hardly think the wine is completely at fault. I'm nervous here too, love." He didn't need to be told twice about catching up and asked for a bottle of whatever Emma was drinking from their server. The wine was poured when it arrived and the bottle left on the table.

There was comfort--and maybe a little bit of a ego boost--in hearing him admit that he was nervous. He had a lot of years on her and a lot more experience, and yet something as simple as going on a date with her had him rattled, too.

"It's just...such a normal thing," Emma admitted after his wine had been poured and her own topped off, figuring there was no point in denying that she, too, was having first-date jitters. She'd shifted in her seat, leaning in with arms resting lightly on the table, voice dropping a little lower to suit the more intimate conversation. "It's conventional and ordinary and we're, this, us, is so...not, either of those things. Never has been. I don't mean that in a bad way," she amended quickly. "Just that it's...different."

Dating was not exactly a skill pirates were known for. Pillaging and drinking were the usual courting tactics. Or the storytelling that had won him his Milah. But now was not the time to think of her, even if her ring was on the chain that hung by his heart.

"You mean you would be more comfortable running around after monster and dodging magical attacks while trying to figure out who is playing us now, the Evil Queen or the Dark One?" Hook said with an easy laugh, knowing that was exactly what she meant and he almost felt the same. That would be more them. "Perhaps it's time we tried something different."

Emma laughed softly, raising and lowering her bare shoulders because that was, in fact, exactly what she meant. That had been her life for the last few years--her year in New York notwithstanding. And though Darrow had no shortage of crazy things happening, it wasn't quite the same thing. She didn't feel so...depended on here, save for taking care of Henry, helping her dad with Neal, and doing her job. Darrow didn't give a damn that she was the product of True Love; it damn sure didn't need her to save it. In that sense, living here was a lot more like being in New York than in Storybrooke.

"So, here we are," she agreed, picking up her wine glass and raising it slightly in a kind of toast. "Here's to...trying new things?"

for hook: people throw rocks at things that shine and life makes love look hard

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