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"Dad!" Westley's voice carried through the house as soon as he stepped through the front door, out of breath and red in the face.
Killian looked up from the kitchen table, "Yes?"
"A boy asked Hope on a date! Am I allowed to beat the crap out of him?"
Hope shoved through the door immediately after, taxed from what could only have been chasing after her brother.
"Who did what now?" Emma gaped from the sink behind him.
"Wes!" Hope chided, "You said you weren't going to tell them before I did."
"I'm thirteen," he replied with a nonchalant shrug.
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"I changed my mind!"
"And went back on your word, you little -"
"Alright, you two, enough," Emma turned, tossing a dish towel over her shoulder, "Wes, homework, please."
"But I -"
"You heard your mother, lad. Get to it," Killian arched an eyebrow, finally managing to choke out a sentence.
Someone asked his daughter on a date.
Bloody hell.
With a huff, Westley turned on his heels, mumbling under his breath as he padded up the stairs.
Hope took a seat at the table. He was certain he would always see his little girl in her face, but suddenly, he was painfully aware of just how much she had grown right before his eyes.
Long gone were the pigtails and walking shoes.
A young lady sat ahead of him now.
In Neverland, time stood still. To the man he was back then, it was nothing but a necessary end to his means. After a while, though, he grew to detest it. In a land without time, nothing ever changed. He found himself stuck in an endless cycle.
Storybrooke proved to be the opposite. The damned years seemed to speed up the moment Hope had been born. It was an illusion, naturally. Time wasn't moving any differently than it would anywhere else in the realm. Still, it was hard to rationalize how that infant was sitting before him.
Sixteen years had passed in a hurry.
"Who is this boy your brother speaks of?" He questioned as Emma joined them at the table.
Hope swallowed, "Danny Schumacher, he's in my homeroom."
Killian furrowed his eyebrows, "The Cobbler's boy?"
"He's a good kid," Emma eyed him discreetly, "Never caused us any trouble."
She was right, no matter how much he despised it. The town had become filled to the brim with children, with all the happy endings and such. Some were little hellions, their wayward faces becoming quite familiar to him as he routinely broke up their late-night shenanigans on evening shifts.
He never gave them much of a hassle. He had been young once, too.
Even so, the face of Danny Schumacher was never among them.
There were undoubtedly worse prospects in town.
"He's really nice," Hope supplied.
"They're all nice from the jump, sweetheart," Killian quipped.
Emma provided him with a swift smack on the arm.
Hope rolled her eyes, "He has good grades, plus he volunteers at the animal shelter."
Killian held up his hand, "We get the picture, thank you."
"And where would you guys be going?" Emma inquired.
Hope looked down at her hands, "I don't know. I told him I would talk to you guys first."
"That was very mature of you. Wasn't it, Killian?" Emma prompted, the inflection of his name indicated she was looking for him to agree.
He was no fool.
"Aye," he nodded, "That leaves one final question, doesn't it?"
"What?" Hope asked with wide eyes.
"Would you like to go with him? And not because you would feel bad turning him down, but because you want to."
Hope gave a nearly imperceptible nod, her cheeks turning a slight pink, "I want to."
"I see," Killian leaned back on the chair, crossing his arms with a heavy sigh, "I suggest you get in contact with him, then. If it's alright with your mother, of course."
As much as he desperately wanted to stop the clock, he learned that there was no sense in battling time long ago. If she was growing, he had to let her prosper. The only thing he could do was stand tall at her side while she did it.
He would still give the boy a healthy dose of hell. All those bloody years as a pirate captain weren't for nothing.
"Fine by me," Emma smirked, holding up her hands.
"Really?" Hope's face lit up with a smile as Killian nodded in response, "Thank you, guys."
He watched as she shoved the chair away from the table, not bothering to push it back in, and scurried towards the staircase.
Emma turned to him when Hope was out of an earshot, "Okay, seriously? Who are you, and what have you done with my husband? I thought for sure you would have malfunctioned by now."
He scoffed, "Judging by the pain in my chest, I can assure you that I'm still me. As for the malfunctioning, the jury is still out."
"Well, our little girl is officially dating," Emma reached out, placing a hand on his forearm, "I know this isn't easy."
"It isn't, but we've always trusted her," Killian shrugged, "I simply wanted to make sure she didn't feel pressured into the whole scene. She needs to make her choices for no one other than herself."
He had no doubt that she would. Hope may have inherited many of his features, but she was blessed with every bit of her mother's spirit.
Stubborn as all hell.
"She will. We've got two smart kids on our hands," Emma reassured, "and they've got the best dad."
"Yes, well, I've got a pretty decent counterpart. Makes things a tad easier," Killian winked. "Do you recall when we stayed up all night worrying over kindergarten? I should have known this would be coming sooner rather than later."
Emma stood, moving behind him to place her hands on his shoulders, drawing circles with her thumbs, "How could I forget? It was just yesterday, wasn't it?"
He closed his eyes, "I wish."
"I was definitely more bent out of shape than you were that night. What was it you said to me?" Emma asked, clearing her throat to put on her best impression of his accent, "'Everything is going to be just fine, love.'"
Killian laughed, "Nearly three decades have passed now, and you still haven't gotten any better at that. It's quite impressive, actually."
"Shut up," she shot back, gently flicking him on the back of the head. "It's true, though. She's going to be fine; both of them will be."
"Aye. There's not much left to do but grow with them, besides making them do their chores, that is," he smiled, turning in his seat to look at her, "so, what's for dinner?"
Emma raised an eyebrow, "I thought you were cooking tonight."
"I seem to remember it being your turn at the helm."
"Sounds a lot like takeout to me, then."