"So," Belle said, chewing her burger, "Rumple told me I could have a vow renewal, and now I basically get to design the wedding I never had."
Hook knew she was saying something, but he couldn't concentrate. Not with her devouring that burger like she was a dragon feeding on a lion carcass. He stared at her, his mouth slightly open in disbelief.
"Hook?" Belle frowned, snapping her fingers in front of his face. "Hey."
He blinked rapidly, startled. "Sorry, love," he said, shaking his head to clear it. "Got distracted."
Belle rolled her eyes and twisted in her seat to look behind her. She turned back around, frowning. "I don't see Emma."
"Do not mention that name around me," Hook said through clenched teeth. Belle's eyebrows shot up.
"Ooo-ooh," she grinned, leaning forward. "What happened?"
"Don't want to talk about it."
"Oh, come on!" she pleaded. "Please?"
"So, what was that bit about the wedding you said earlier?" he said in a tone that made it clear that no amount of begging, pleading, and/or nagging would get him to talk. Belle looked somewhat disappointed, but smiled.
"Rumple agreed to a vow renewal."
"Vow renewal?" Hook repeated. "What, did the first ones expire?"
"No, it's..." Belle looked at him impatiently. "You see, this is why you should listen when I talk," she said, pointing a stern finger at him.
Hook shrugged. "Go easy on me. I'm broken-hearted, and all that."
"Okay, what happened?"
"Nothing. Tell me about your—" he waved his hand—"vows."
"I get to design my entire wedding, and the reception, which means I get to have my dream wedding, and I'm so excited! I get to pick out my dress and the food and the flowers..."
Belle went on about her dream wedding, which Hook supposed she was allowed to feel excited about: she'd had to settle for a simple ceremony for her original wedding and while the important thing was that they loved each other, he knew Belle well enough to know...she liked her parties.
Maybe it was because she'd been isolated for so long, but Belle loved to surround herself with people and excitement and music and fun. This wedding-revival-thing-whatever seemed the perfect way—
"—want you to come dress-shopping with me."
"I'm sorry, what?" Hook smiled politely, leaning forward to hear her properly.
"I said," Belle said loudly, "I want you to come dress-shopping with me."
Hook's smile faded. "Why in the name of God would you want me to go dress-shopping with you?"
"Well—" Belle sat back, wiping her mouth—"you're the closest thing I've got to a girlfriend, and a bride always takes her girlfriends dress-shopping. And I know you're not busy because..." She gave him a snarky smile and shrugged. "I'm the closest thing you have to a girlfriend."
Hook scratched his nose. "Actually, uh..."
Belle paused in her chewing and stared at him, her eyes growing wide. "Oh, my God," she said, breaking into a smile. "Oh, my God! Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me—"
"Belle, please, lower your voice," he begged. Belle shook her head, still chanting, "Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me—"
"Everything okay here?" Ruby came over, holding the coffee dispensers in each hand. The smile slid off Belle's face and settled into a grimace. "Belle? More coffee?"
The smile reappeared, looking fake and forced. "No, thanks." Ruby turned to Hook, smiling uncertainly, the incident from last night still dangling between them.
"More coffee?"
Hook smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring way. "Thanks, I'm still working on this one," he said, holding up his cup. Ruby smiled back, more warmly this time.
"Okay. I'll come back around."
Hook turned his head to watch her go, smiling slightly. He didn't know Ruby very well yet. She seemed nice, if a bit talkative. Very pretty...not very bright. A sweet girl, he decided as he turned around, but tended to be—
"Christ!" He jumped at Belle's glare. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Ruby?" she hissed. "You're going out with Ruby?"
"I didn't say that," he said, looking down.
"Are you going out with her?" she pressed. Hook shrugged.
"Ish."
"Unbelievable," Belle scoffed, throwing her arms up.
"Now, wait," he said defensively as she started muttering things like, "I should have known!" and "that slut!". "You were the one who told me to move on and stop pining after Emma, I'm just taking your advice."
"Ruby?" Belle looked furious. "Really? Ruby? She's the biggest slut in town, including you."
Hook's eyes widened. "Oh, my God." He leaned forward, grinning. "Is she really?"
"Oh, you're disgusting," Belle scowled as he sat back, laughing.
"Yeah, I s'spose," he said, wiping a tear from his eye. "Can I ask—why do you hate her so much?"
"I don't want to go into it right now," she said darkly, picking up her burger. "We need to discuss dress-shopping."
"Why don't you take Tink or something?" Hook said exasperatedly. Belle choked on her burger as she started laughing. He raised an eyebrow. "You all right?"
"Yeah," she gasped, reaching for her glass. "It's nothing...just something Robin said. Go on about Tink?"
He frowned. "Why, what'd Robin say?"
"Nothing, nothing, pssh—" she flapped a hand, scoffing—"don't worry about it. So. We're going to dress-shopping, okay?"
"I don't want—"
"We're going dress-shopping," she said loudly. "This is a big deal for me, okay? I need you to have your game-face on. "
"My game-face?" Hook fixed her with a mock-stern look. "Belle, I assure you...there is nothing wrong with my face. Ask Ruby."
"Would you shut up?" Belle said witheringly. "If you're going to behave like this, I won't take you for ice cream after."
"I'm not a child, Belle. I can buy my own ice cream."
"Are you going to help me or not?" She looked at him seriously. Hook blinked; he hadn't realized she was taking this whole dress-thing to heart. And, damn it, she was working those sad blue eyes, wheedling him silently. You wouldn't deny me this tiny favor, would you? Look how cute and sweet I am. I'm like a teacup poodle that you just want to snuggle for the rest of your life, aren't I?
"Don't look at me like that. Belle, please don't look at me like that."
"I don't have a lot of friends."
"No, don't—"
"God knows I don't ask you for much..."
"I'm serious. I'm not going to—"
"You're my best friend."
Hook squeezed his eyes shut, cursing. "Oh, all right!" he groused. Belle clapped her hands happily. "BUT," he added, holding up a finger, "on one condition."
Belle frowned, tilting her head. "Okay..." she said slowly.
Hook met her scrutinizing gaze without flinching. "I get to bring Ruby."
"What, to my party?" Belle shrugged. "She's going to be catering anyway, so—"
"No. I get to bring her dress-shopping." Hook leaned back and folded his arms, staring back at Belle's outraged face evenly. "Those are my terms. I bring Ruby, and offer insightful advice on your ridiculous dresses. Or I don't bring Ruby, because I'm not going myself."
Belle glared at him as though she could burn his very soul just by concentrating. Do not succumb, he told himself. Do not be intimidated. She is half your size, you are not afraid of her. He set his jaw and glared back fiercely.
"Fine," she growled. "Bring your stupid girlfriend, I don't care. You think I care? I don't. This is the face of someone not caring. Okay? Okay. OWW." She suddenly lurched over the table, her face contorted in pain as she clutched her stomach. Hook was alarmed, getting up to check on her.
"Is something wrong?"
"No, nothing's wrong, that's the sound I make when I'm overwhelmed with joy," she spat, starting to look a little green. Hook carefully eased her into a standing position, allowing her to lean on him (but not too close, in case she vomited).
"I told you," he muttered. "You always get the burger, I told you to get the fish."
"I like the burger," she winced. "And you can get food poisoning from fish."
"I've never gotten food poisoning once. You get it twice a week."
"That's irrelevant."
"Stop being ridiculous." He opened the door for her. "Wait for me outside, I'm going to pay the bill."
"With money, I hope?" she said, unable to leave without making a parting snide remark. "You don't have some sort of sexual-favors-deal going with that slut, do you?"
"No...but I should really look into that, don't you think?"
"You're disgusting," she said again as he tried to hide his smile. The door closed and he turned on his heel, looking toward the counter. Ruby was refilling sugar containers at the counter by the register. He sauntered over, smiling winningly.
Ruby glanced up at the sound of him approaching, and smiled. "Hey," she said, not pausing in her work.
He held up the bill. "Think you can work your magic again and exchange some doubloons for that silly green paper?"
"Yeah, give me a sec," she said, her smile fading slightly. Awkwardly, Hook tapped on the counter with his fingers, drumming out a rhythmless mess of noise. Ruby flicked her eyes over, but said nothing as she concentrated on her sugar containers. He scratched the back of his head nervously.
"Ruby...uh..."
"Oh, God," she sniffed, and out of nowhere, she was crying. Crying! How did that happen? Startled, Hook watched her hold her fingers under her eyes to keep her mascara from running. "I knew it. You're breaking up with me."
"What?" he said weakly.
"You're breaking up with me!" she wailed. "I should have seen this coming after last night, I knew it!"
"After last...? What, because of Emma?"
Ruby nodded miserably. Hook dropped onto a stool.
"Give me a little credit, love," he said, stung. "I'm not her lapdog. I told her off last night, I told her off good."
She looked up, giving him a watery smile. "You did?"
"I most certainly did!" he said, nodding emphatically. "She can't go around, behaving like a crazy woman, and expect people to take it."
Ruby let out a shaky laugh. "I was just worried last night was going to end up like one of those romantic comedies, where the crazy couple has this big huge jealous-fest and this big huge argument and then they end up making out in the rain—"
"Okay, you lost me," Hook said, crinkling his brow. "Who was this?"
Her smile faded. "No, I meant, like...movies and stuff."
"Oh...okay, yeah. I got it, I got it," he nodded, still not entirely sure he did get it. "So, listen...Belle's dragging me along to go dress-hunting for her, er...I don't know, it's like a wedding-type-thing, but she's getting married to the same person...?"
Ruby raised an eyebrow. "What, Mr. Gold? Why?"
"Careful," he said warningly. "I found out the hard way—don't ask her that. Anyways, I told her the only way I'd go is if you came along. I mean, when it comes to dresses—" he leaned forward, lowering his voice—"I have a very different skill set than the one she's looking for."
Ruby laughed, by this time a very familiar sound. Hook felt his smile tense. Okay, so maybe Ruby was a little annoying at times. He could handle that. That was fine.
Even if her laugh grated on his ears.
Stop that, he ordered himself. You're just trying to find things wrong with her because she's not Emma.
"So, what do you say, love?" he grinned. "You want to come, keep me company...maybe take over my duties, since I have no idea what I'm supposed to do?"
Ruby looked over her shoulder at Granny taking an order down. Hook stiffened: the old woman rather terrified him now. "I'll ask Granny."
"Ah, yeah...Granny. Lovely woman...I'll wait outside, all right?"
* * * * * * * * *
"So," Robin said, wincing against the uncomfortable metal bench.
"So," Neal replied, playing with a small hole in his scarf.
Roland let out a squeal as Little John poked his head into the entrance of the slide and did "the monster noise". They could hear him scampering back up the slide, giggling delightedly.
"So, how are you?" Robin tried again.
"Peachy. You?"
"I'm...hanging in there."
Neal looked over. Robin looked tired: there were bags under his eyes, and his face seemed drained of color. Neal had figured that was just a side effect of having a toddler, but something in his voice made Neal think that Robin was exhausted in more than one way.
"How's Regina?"
"She's..." Robin pinched his fingers to the bridge of his nose, and sighed. "She's..."
"You two aren't breaking up, are you?" Neal asked, raising an eyebrow.
"No, no, no...nothing like that," Robin said, shaking his head. "But the honeymoon period can only last forever. Regina and I have been together for, what...'bout a year and a half now? Sometimes, it's just... you know."
Neal nodded slowly. Robin templed his fingers and rested them against his mouth, blowing out a slow breath.
"So, uh, how're things with Emma?"
Neal rubbed his eyes. "Nonexistent, at the moment."
Robin raised his eyebrows. "You two ended things?"
"Can't really end things when there aren't things," Neal said pointedly. "I just got tired of her stringing me along. The important thing is," he said, holding up a finger, "I see Henry. If she and Hook want to keep acting like a couple of teenagers, they're going to have to play without me, because I'm done with the love triangle bullshit."
Robin blinked a few times. "Wow," he said finally. "Sounds like someone needs to talk about their fee..." He trailed off as Neal stared at him with half-lidded eyes, daring him to keep talking. "Never mind."
They sat in silence for a few minutes, watching Roland scramble up the playground stairs, chased by Little John.
"So, my dad called me this morning," Neal said, breaking the silence. "He and Belle are doing a vow-renewal-thing."
"Vow renewal?" Robin repeated, creasing his forehead. "Is that the thing where you get married all over again?"
Neal shrugged. "Pretty much."
Robin tilted his head, speaking cautiously. "Isn't...isn't that sort of a waste of time?"
"Meh," Neal said. "Free cake, so I'm not complaining."
"Well, there is that," Robin agreed. "Roland loves cake."
"Roland and I have that in common."
Another awkward silence fell. Neal lolled his head back, looking at the sky. Why had he agreed to this? It wasn't like he and Robin were great friends on their own: they were only friends through Hook now. Hook had met Robin through Belle, and after an evening of reminiscing about the good old days of thieving and looting and slutting around in general, they became fast friends.
It was supposed to be the three of them that morning, and Neal had really been looking forward to venting with Hook about how entitled and spoiled Emma was...but then Hook had called and bailed on them because Belle was dragging him along for mysterious errands. Robin had half-heartedly suggested they could still hang out; Neal had half-heartedly agreed.
So here they were. In hell.
Robin coughed. "I must say, I'm surprised that you and Hook haven't killed each other yet. I mean...that was two years of that Emma rivalry." He fiddled with a string on his jacket, waiting for Neal to say something.
Honestly, he wasn't even sure how to answer. There was a lot of bad history between him and the pirate. Rumple blamed Hook for Milah leaving and making Neal grow up without a mother; then there was the incident where Hook had handed him over to the Lost Boys—not very nice at all; and of course, Hook had decided that he simply had to have the same woman Neal loved—the friggin' mother of his child, actually. And yet, even with all that, they managed to salvage a sort of friendship.
"Neal?" Robin prodded.
Neal shook himself out of his thoughts, feeling annoyed with Robin. What did he think, he was going to share his feelings and they were going to talk about them over a cup of coffee or something? "What are we, girlfriends? I'm not talking to you about this," he scoffed.
Robin shrugged. "I noticed you didn't correct me when when I said was."
Neal raised an eyebrow.
"Was...as in, past tense."
"Yeah?"
"Implying..." Robin shifted in his seat, uncomfortable under Neal's skeptical gaze. "Implying that the Emma rivalry is in the past?"
Neal stared at him. "Robin," he said carefully. "This is starting to get weird."
"Right." Robin seemed embarrassed, but Neal pressed on.
"I have no intention of talking to you about my feelings."
"'Course not."
"And I'm...kind of judging you right now."
"I got that."
"A lot, Robin. I'm judging you a lot."
"I can tell."
"Do you and Hook talk about your feelings a lot? Is this a thing I'm not a part of?"
"Well, it's come up before, but—"
"Okay, so why don't we save the feelings stuff for you and Hook?"
"Yeah, let's do that."
Another heavy silence fell. Neal tapped his fingers listlessly on the bench. Robin picked at his nails.
"Perhaps you could call—"
"Robin."
"Sorry."
There was no way he was going to call Emma. There was an unspoken agreement between him and Hook: Emma let both of them follow her around like puppy dogs, not caring that she was sabotaging the friendship they salvaged by pitting them against each other over her. Now, it was time she got what was coming to her. Let her sweat a little.
"I think," Robin said, apparently trying to change the subject, "that the, er... basketball team is doing splendidly this season, don't you?"
Neal frowned at him in confusion. "The hell are you talking about?"
Robin blinked a few times. "The basketball team?"
"What basketball team?"
"Christ, I don't know!" Robin said, throwing up his hands exasperatedly. "I don't even know what basketball is!"
"Then why are you talking about it?"
"I'm...trying to make conversation," Robin said, struggling to remain patient. "Clearly failing, but there you are."
Neal was saved the trouble of responding when his phone vibrated, alerting him to a text. He glanced down, raising an eyebrow when he saw it was from Hook:
Save me. Call my phone, so I can pretend it's an emergency.
He frowned, and typed back: Where are you?
Hell. Just call.
Neal tilted his head, considering. On the one hand, he and Hook had reached an alliance... but on the other hand, everything else. Yeah, he wasn't going to help that pretty-boy pirate, he decided, tucking his phone back in his jacket pocket. Besides, he was already having so much fun with Robin.
They watched Roland play a little bit more.
"Oh, my God, this is so boring," Neal groaned.
* * * * * * * * *
Hook glanced down at his phone again, willing it to ring. What the hell was Neal doing? He had texted twenty minutes ago, and there was still no fake emergency call!
He had to get out of here. This white, fluffy, lacy hell, he had to get OUT.
Right now, he was chained to a bench outside the dressing rooms with Ruby, waiting for Belle to reappear in a white gown that looked exactly the same as every other white gown she put on. And that was really the most frustrating thing: every single dress looked exactly like the dress before it, as far as he could tell. But he had to say something different every time, or Belle would complain that he wasn't paying attention.
And then, every time he said, "Oh, there. That one looks nice, get that one.", she would wrinkle her nose and say, "Really? I don't know..." and try on another dress. And then if he said, "Oh, you're right, it's dreadful. Get a different one.", she would tilt her head and stare at herself in the mirror, swirling the skirt around her for twenty minutes before deciding to look at another.
Ruby, meanwhile, was saying important, educated-sounding things like, "Ooh, I like the neckline on that one!" or "That's an interesting cut, but maybe a little too boxy." But Belle only glowered and looked at Hook and said, "What do you think?" And then, of course, he'd have to say, "Right, yeah...the neckline. Brilliant."
Belle came out in the tenth dress she picked out, holding either side of the skirt so she wouldn't trip. The consultant was talking some nonsense that he chose not to listen to, while Ruby nodded in agreement.
"What do you think?" Belle asked him, twirling as much as she could manage in the ridiculous thing.
Hook glanced at the dress—once again, identical to all the others—and back up at Belle. She was positively beaming, so he figured she had to be happy about it; that meant it had to be better than the others, in some imperceptible way.
"It's perfect."
The smile slid off her face. "I already tried this one on!" she snapped. "I knew you weren't paying attention!"
"What do you want from me?" he asked through clenched teeth. "What do you want me to say?"
"I want you to give me your honest opinion!" she glared.
"My honest opinion? My honest opinion is that, I can't tell the difference between one useless mess of lace and the next. And my honest opinion is that you don't pay attention, because I told you at least five times since this morning, I don't know how to pick out a bloody wedding dress!"
Belle narrowed her eyes dangerously and her her mouth tightened to a thin line. "Right," she said shortly. "Well, then. I suppose you could always just leave." Her tone made it very clear, he absolutely could not leave. Hook looked down at his feet, ashamed that he was quailing under this tiny little woman. This is Emma's fault, he thought bitterly.
Belle was surprisingly intimidating for such a small person, but the old Hook—the fearsome Captain Hook— would never have stood for this. Emma had broken him. Ever since Neverland, when she started wrapping him around her finger. Well, okay, maybe a little before that. Maybe...meh, the second he saw her when he got little butterflies in his tummy because she was the prettiest, most beautifulest, awesomest, wonderfulest, amazingest, holy-shit-she's-so-cool-God-I-hope-likes-me-est person ever, and he would kill his own mother if she asked him to.
Whoa. That was fucked up.
But it wasn't his fault. Hook knew himself: he was a hopeless romantic. Even as a vicious blackhearted pirate, he still secretly swooned over the fact that his quest for revenge against Rumplestiltskin was for love: tragically romantic, like Romeo and Juliet—except not, because only one of them died in his story, because he wasn't a dumb-ass like Romeo.
But even for all that, he could still keep his shit together. Around the men, he was tough as nails; he drank hard liquor like it was mother's milk; he ripped men's inside's out without flinching—sometimes with his bare hands (well, okay, not his bare hands, but still....not flinching? That was pretty good). And then he met Emma. And suddenly, everything else was unimportant, and all that mattered was her.
And that bitch knew it.
Oh, did she know it! True, he did remind her at least three times a day, but she took advantage of his feelings and used them to manipulate him into doing all this shit for her. Not to mention, she kept giving him these crazy mixed signals! She'd smile one minute, then snap at him the next; he'd earn a chuckle, then get in trouble because she couldn't believe he was "actually goofing off at a time like this!"; then there was that time where they totally made out in Neverland, and then she kind of just shrugged and said, "Yeah, no, one-time-thing, man", like what the fuck was up with that? And then she has the the nerve to get between his bro-ship with Neal? It was amazing they could even be in the same room together without Neal tearing him apart, let alone be friends! And she actually got in the middle of that and allowed them to rekindle their animosity over her? Selfish little.... He shook his head. That was probably why Neal hadn't given him the emergency call. He could almost forgive him for that. He was still going to beat the ever-loving shit out of him when he got home, but he could forgive him.
What was it about Emma that made him let her do this to him? It wasn't like she was the only beautiful woman he knew (for example, Regina was, like, day-um, woman!) Emma wasn't exactly the most affectionate person he knew. She wasn't very nice. Actually, she was pretty bossy. And entitled. Kind of spoiled, if he was going to be honest. A bit self-centered, maybe. She didn't seem to care about his feelings. She didn't really seem interested in his inner pain and turmoil. She didn't even seem to like him platonically sometimes, let alone romantically. It was almost like he was... a trophy husband?
Oh, God, he thought, horrified. This is what he had become. The youngest lieutenant in the King's navy turned infamous pirate, the most bloodthirsty, badass motherfucker around...and he was now sitting in a little dress shop in Maine, standing there to look pretty and hold purses.
"INCONCEIVABLE!" he shouted, pounding his fist.
"Sir?" the consultant said, whose name tag read: MOLLY. "Sir, I need to ask you to lower your voice."
"Right. Sorry. Just... just feeling a bit overwhelmed."
Molly smiled. "Pre-wedding jitters are totally normal, you're fine. Honestly, we don't get a lot of grooms in here, so if you want—"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa," Belle said, holding up a hand. "We're not—" She looked at Hook, scoffing. "I mean, no. Just no. No. I can't even, how much NO is contained in that statement. He is so not the groom."
"I am not the groom," Hook affirmed, shaking his head.
"Like, I would kill myself if he were the groom."
"Okay, well, that's a strong statement, let's not—"
"Not if he were the last person on earth—"
"Yes, we GET it, thanks—"
"I'm practically throwing up in my brain—"
"OH, MY GOD. See this is why, I would never marry her," he hissed to Molly. She crinkled her forehead.
"So if you're not the groom...who are you?" she asked, looking between them.
"He's my mister-of-honor," Belle said matter-of-factly. Molly raised her eyebrows.
"I'm sorry....did you say, mister-of-honor?"
"It's like a maid-of-honor, but it's a guy," Belle explained. "I don't have a lot of girlfriends—just this dumb jabroni." She punched his arm, rather roughly.
"Yeah, could we cool it with the bro-punches?" he winced, rubbing his arm.
"Oh, come on. I'm like half your size, that doesn't hurt."
"Would my face be doing this if it didn't?" he snapped, pointing to his pain-contorted expression.
"Anyway," Belle said, turning back to Molly. "I'm not getting married, exactly. I'm doing a vow renewal. With my husband who is not him," she added unnecessarily, pointing to Hook.
"Oh," Molly said, nodding. "I see..."
"Do misters-of-honor typically wear something special?" Belle asked, looking concerned.
"Honestly, I can't say I've ever come across any misters-of-honor, so I wouldn't know."
Belle looked Hook up and down, frowning slightly. "You should still make sure you wear something nice."
"Belle, I swear to God, if you start with this something nice bullshit again, you can find yourself a different mister-of-honor. Which, by the way, is one of the stupidest things I've ever heard in my life."
Belle slit her eyes in cold fury. "I think," she said through clenched teeth, "I need to find another dress."
"Well, hurry up!" Hook called after her as she flounced away, dragging Molly with her. "Because I'm leaving in ten minutes, with or without you!"he shouted as she disappeared into the dressing rooms. Huffing angrily, he folded his arms, glaring at the clock. Ruby tapped her fingers irritably on the table. He rolled his eyes: clearly, he was supposed to notice.
"What?"
"You have been ignoring me all day!" she snapped, getting right to the point. Hook raised his eyebrows.
"It's not a date, Ruby. I told you, I don't know the first thing about wedding dresses."
"So that's it? That's the only reason you brought me? I thought you wanted to spend time together, to make up for last night!"
Hook closed his eyes impatiently. Goddamn, her voice was shriek-y. "Ruby," he said, trying to remain calm, "this is not a great time. Can we talk about this later?"
"I don't know!" Ruby said, throwing up her arms. "Which one of your other girlfriends will be joining us on that outing? Hmm? Let's see...we've had Emma, that was fun. And today with Belle, my sides are still fucking splitting! So, who's next? Huh? Huh? Who?"
He stared at her with wide eyes. "You're insane," he said, stunned. "You're literally insane."
Ruby's jaw dropped. "How dare you!" she said furiously. "How insensitive can you be?! It is a full moon tomorrow, and you're—OH!" She stalked away, seething, shoving past people and shouting all the way out. Hook stared after her bemusedly. What the hell?
Belle walked out of the dressing room, holding her skirt gingerly. "Okay, so this one..." She frowned, looking around. "Where's your slut girlfriend?"
"I don't know," he said, shaking his head. "She left. She went absolutely ballistic because of... I don't even know, I tune her out when she's talking. But she was shouting about the full moon and then—" he made an explosion sound. Belle nodded knowingly.
"Ah, yeah... the full moon."
"What's so terrible about the full moon?" he said bewilderedly. Belle motioned Molly away, and took Ruby's vacant seat.
"See... oh, how do I say this delicately? Ruby eats people."
"Excuse me?"
"She's a werewolf. She turns into a wolf at the full moon and eats people."
Hook blinked a few times. He knew the words coming out of Belle's mouth, but they weren't connecting. It sounded like, she was suggesting that Ruby turned into a wolf. That was almost stupider than being a mister-of-honor. "Come again?"
Belle raised her eyebrows. "This isn't really a difficult concept," she said, speaking slowly as though he were very dim-witted. "Ruby is a werewolf. I don't know how to explain it more than that."
"I need a drink," he said shakily, patting his jacket for his flask. "I need a million drinks, actually. Can we go to a bar? I need to drain a bar of all its alcohol, can we please go to a bar?" He downed his rum in one go: Belle looked impressed. "I need to drink stuff that is going to destroy my liver. Do you understand?"
"Yeah, I-I think—"
"I don't think you understand how much I need to drink right now. I need to drink so much, my hangover won't be here until next week."
"Okay. We'll go to a bar and drink." She patted his shoulder. "We'll finish this another time."
He glared at her, making her sigh.
"Fine," she said reluctantly. "Me and Tink will do this another time."
"Good answer," he said darkly.
"You're so angsty," she complained, standing up. "You are going to be the worst mister-of-honor..."
* * * * * * * * *
Whale stared at the ceiling, barely registering his alarm clock obnoxiously beeping. How had he gotten himself into this situation, into this impossible situation?
Henry had shown up at his door at four in the morning, his clothes streaked with mud, a panicked expression on his face. "Dr. Whale?" he had said shakily, sounding more scared than Whale had ever heard him. "I, uh... I did a thing."
"Henry, do you know what time it is?" Whale said, wincing at the glare from the outside lights. "Come on, kid, I got rounds to make in a few hours."
"Trust me, you're going to want to see this," Henry said breathlessly, and yanked a tall figure by the arm onto the porch. Whale blinked several times, certain that his exhaustion was making his mind play tricks on him.
It was Sheriff Graham.
"But—" Whale felt his heart clutch as his throat closed. He forced himself to breathe in shakily, staring with wide eyes at a man who he pronounced dead four years ago. "How is this—Henry!" he gasped. "He's on my porch!"
"I know," Henry said, trembling. "He's alive. I-I-I brought him back. I'm sorry, I didn't know where else to bring him," he said, sounding close to tears. "I just thought—Frankenstein, dead Graham walking... I thought you could help?"
"But this is insane," Whale whimpered, going weak at the knees. "How is—what?"
"Just let me bring him inside, I'll explain everything," Henry pleaded.
"Can he speak? Can he think?" Whale asked, staring as Henry pulled Graham inside and brought him to the couch. "Is he—is he dangerous?"
"No, he's..." Henry shook his head, still stunned. "He's exactly as he was before. It's like he's been sleeping this whole time."
"But how?" he wailed, flopping into his chair. "This is madness."
"No," Henry said, taking a deep breath. "It's magic."
"I'm so confused," Graham said. Whale shrieked at the sound of his voice, drawing his legs up protectively.
"Oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God," he whimpered, putting his head in his hands. "He's sitting on my couch. He's actually sitting on my couch."
"I brought him back with the well," Henry said, not acknowledging the fact the Whale's mind was coming apart at the seams. "I think one of the vials I stole from my mom's vault had Graham's ashes in it or something, and it fell into the well."
"The well?" Whale said weakly, still staring at Graham, who was blinking around in confusion.
"Where things once lost are returned? It's connected to Lake Nostos. I think that's what revived Graham." Henry bit his lip. "But it only worked because I woke it up again."
"Well, why did you do something like that?" Whale said, nearly sobbing. Henry blinked rapidly, his eyes looking very shiny.
"I don't know," he whispered, his voice quivering. "I just... I had the book...and it worked...and then..." He looked at the sheriff, and gestured with a flop of his hand. Graham didn't look up: he was examining his hand, turning it over and flexing the fingers.
"You have to tell your mother. Or your grandfather. Or your other mother. Someone with magic, Henry, I'm just a doctor."
"No!" Henry insisted, standing up. "You're Dr. Frankenstein! You brought people back from the dead!"
"It didn't work, Henry, that was the whole point of that movie!" Whale cried. "And me, I didn't bring anyone back! It was Rumplestiltskin's magic that did it, not my science! Take him to your grandfather!"
"Please, Dr. Whale," Henry said desperately. "Just for few days, until I figure out how to deal with this. Please."
Whale sighed, rubbing his eyes. He didn't particularly like children, but he'd always had a soft spot for Henry. Maybe because he was the first kid to die on him, and he felt guilty about it, but either way, it was tough to say no to that face.
"Fine," he said at last. "Just a few days."
Henry broke into a smile so grateful, Whale almost didn't regret his decision. But now, laying his bed, staring at the ceiling with wide, terrified eyes, he definitely did.
"Dr. Whale?" There was a knock at his door. "I think your alarm's going off."
"Yes, thank you, Sheriff," he croaked. He raised a wobbly hand and slapped the snooze button. He'd get up eventually, but right now, he needed to lay here and regret his life choices.
By the time he had pulled himself together, it was light outside. He considered calling in, but then realized he'd have to spend the day with Graham. That changed his mind quick enough. As he poured himself a cup of coffee, he looked over at the couch, where Graham had slept: the no-longer-late sheriff was flipping through a magazine, a most serene zombie.
He walked toward him awkwardly. "Can, uh—" he cleared his throat. "Can I offer you a cup of coffee?"
"Oh, coffee would be great," Graham said, putting down the magazine. Whale nodded.
"Okay. I hope you don't mind drinking out of a foam cup. I only have—" he lifted his mug—"you know, just the one cup."
Graham raised his eyebrows. "You only own one cup?"
"Do I look like the kind of guy who has someone to drink coffee with in the morning on a regular basis?" Whale said irritably. Graham offered him a weak smile.
"Oh, come on," he said with forced cheerfulness. "You're a great guy..."
"I'm not, actually."
"I suppose not," he sighed.
Whale spent the day in a daze, with nurses chasing him to make sure he didn't accidentally kill any patients. Eventually, the hospital administrator called him in and told him to go home, before he got them knee-deep in lawsuits.
He didn't go straight home: he needed a drink before he went home to face a fucking zombie. He stumbled into the White Rabbit, taking a seat a few stools down from Hook and Belle.
"Little early for you guys to be drinking, isn't it?" he asked in a monotone.
"He's having a rough day," Belle said, nudging her friend sympathetically. "Emma stuff."
"No, it's Ruby stuff," Hook insisted. "She's a wolf-thingy, who eats people! I mean—" he looked at Whale wildly, breathing fast—"did you know about this? Did you know she turns into a wolf?"
"Yeah," Whale said tiredly.
"A fucking wolf?" he said shrilly.
"You're saying you're upset about Ruby, I think you're upset about Emma," Belle said firmly. "In fact, I think you should tell me about what happened last night, so we can get you past your Emma issues."
"Sure. Or you could tell me why you want Ruby's head on a spike, so we can get you past your Ruby issues."
Belle pursed her lips. "I don't like this game."
The bartender passed Whale his drink. "Thanks," he muttered, downing it. He waited.
Nope. He didn't feel any better.
"What about you, mate?" Hook said, leaning forward to see him past Belle. "You seem very distressed."
"Yeah, you want to drink with us?" Belle asked. "We were going to play 'Never Have I Ever'."
"That's okay, guys. I think I'm going to just go home and curl up with a bottle of vodka."
"We can drink vodka here," Hook said immediately. "I'll drink vodka. I'll drink anything right now."
"No, no... I think I'm going to take off." Whale got up from his stool and tossed a few bills on the counter. "See you, Vince."
"Who's Vince?" he heard Hook ask in a loud whisper.
"The bartender, you dumb jabroni."
"Okay, where did you pick up that word? You have been calling me that all day," was the last thing Whale heard before the door closed behind him.
He didn't remember getting into his car and driving home, but he must have because five minutes later, he was stepping out of his car and walking up the steps, staring glassy-eyed in front of him. How any of this was possible, he still didn't know. Magic was seriously fucked up, he decided, opening the door.
An unfamiliar smell wafted through the air. Whale frowned, sniffing. Was that... cooking?
He wandered into the kitchen, still frowning in confusion. This house had never had food cooking in it. Whale didn't know how to cook: he'd never had time to learn, choosing to content himself with Ramen noodles or takeout. But there was definitely something cooking now.
Graham was at the stove, humming to himself as he stirred a pan. Whale stopped, staring at the strange scene before him.
"What the...?"
Graham turned around. "Dr. Whale, you're home early," he said pleasantly, turning back to the stove. "I'm not nearly finished preparing dinner yet."
Whale sank into a chair. "You're cooking?"
Graham looked concerned. "I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I just thought you'd be hungry—"
"You were dead less than twenty-four hours ago and you're cooking?" Whale stared at him open-mouthed. "Are you real?"
"Er... yes, I think so." Graham hesitantly offered him a spoon. "Rice pilaf?"
Whale took the spoon, numbly staring at it. He looked back at Graham, unable to fathom his existence, even as he stood before him, humbly awaiting his opinion on the rice.
"Aren't you going to taste it?" he asked, smiling nervously.
Whale looked back at the spoon before putting it in his mouth. "Unbelievable," he said. "It's delicious. A dead guy made this, and it's delicious."
Graham's smile twitched. "Actually, I'd appreciate it if you stopped calling me 'dead'. I was dead. But as you can clearly see, I'm not now." He gently tugged the spoon out of Whale's grasp.
"But how?" Whale looked at him helplessly. "How are you here? I pronounced you dead myself."
"Your guess is as good as mine. The last thing I remember before waking up at the bottom of a well is collapsing in the sheriff's station." Graham turned the stove on low, and sat down in the chair across from Whale. "I didn't even know I had died at all, until Henry explained it to me. It's funny," he chuckled, "I didn't even recognize him at first. Last time I saw Henry, he was a little boy."
"Do you remember...everything, everything?"
Graham took a deep breath. "I got my memories back right before I... you know. Henry caught me up on Regina, but frankly, I still have my doubts on how much she's changed. I pity this Robin; from what I remember, she was a very difficult woman to deal with. He didn't say much about Emma, though." He looked at Whale hopefully.
"Oh. Her. Uh..." Whale rubbed his eyes, searching his brain for any of his nurses' Emma-related gossip still lingering there. "Let's see... she's living with her parents now... Henry goes between her and Regina...something about Hook and Neal—"
"Who?" Graham frowned.
"Her boyfriends or whatever, I don't really know the situation there. Uh, she's sheriff now, so I don't know how you two are going to work that one out. And uh... yeah, that's about it."
"Hook and Neal," Graham said slowly, as if trying the names out. "Hook... and Neal.."
"Yeah. Neal is Henry's dad, and Hook is some pirate guy she brought back from the Enchanted Forest because she thought he was cute, or something. I don't know," Whale shrugged. "I don't ask questions anymore."
Graham nodded, breathing in sharply. "I see."
Whale looked toward the pan hopefully. "So... how long does rice pilaf cook?"
"And Neal is Henry's father?" he asked suddenly.
Whale looked at him with wide eyes. "Yeah..." he said slowly. "But that rice pilaf, though."
"Is he from the Enchanted Forest? I don't remember any Neal's."
"He's Rumplestiltskin's son. So, that rice—"
"Baelfire?" Graham's eyes bugged out. "Are you serious?"
"Yeah, I'm serious. May I—?" Whale got up and walked to the stove. Graham swiveled in his chair, still talking.
"How does that even work? Rumplestiltskin is Henry's grandfather?"
"He's pretty mellow right now," Whale said around a mouthful of rice. "Ever since he got married."
"Married?" Graham's voice rose an octave. "To who?"
"Belle. Damn, this is good."
"Belle?" he repeated. "Who is Belle? I don't remember a Belle!"
"Well, you wouldn't. She was still locked in the asylum when you were kicking around."
"What?" Graham stared at him with wide eyes. Whale scrambled to explain.
"No, no, she's not crazy. Regina just had her locked in there to hide her."
"Why? That poor woman, that's—that's horrible! Why would she do something like that?"
"I don't know," Whale shrugged, spooning some more rice into his mouth. "She had her locked in her dungeons back in the Enchanted Forest, too. Wanted to hide her from Rumplestiltskin or something. Or maybe it was Hook." He frowned, trying to scrape together the story, then gave up. "I don't remember. Hook broke in at some point, but I don't know if he was trying to kill her or rescue her."
"And Emma finds this man cute?" Graham said disbelievingly.
"Uh-huh," Whale nodded, chewing. Graham sat back, looking stunned.
"I am so confused," he said, shaking his head miserably. Whale looked down at his curly head, rather pitying him.
"Okay," he said, setting down his spoon and retaking his seat. "Tell you what. I'll call Henry, and we'll see if we can get you up to speed."
"I might need flashcards," Graham said woefully. "And study guides. And diagrams. Christ, there's so much I missed..."