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The biggest shock David Nolan ever received (aside from, perhaps, the realization that the bandit who was stealing his ring was a girl, that Snow was pregnant, that David Nolan was the Prince Charming, that Emma was his daughter—okay, this is not the biggest shock of his life) was when Killian Jones asked for his blessing to marry his daughter. (Really, it wasn't a surprise at all. Really, he should have been expecting such a request.)
In response to this, Hook, naturally, got a quick and sharp punch to the bottom lip. As the pirate gingerly wiped the blood away, David staggered back to the table and collapsed in his chair and stared at the ceiling.
It was probably good that Mary Margaret wasn’t at home right then. Hook had probably planned it that way. Actually, David was sure that Hook had been watching the house all day and waiting until his hopeful father-in-law was at home alone. Vulnerable to any attacks, like lovesick pirates wanting to marry his daughter.
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’, then, mate, shall I?” Hook called.
“Shut up,” David growled.
His daughter. The tiny baby he put in a magic wardrobe and sent off to the Land without Magic. The grown-up daughter who found them twenty-eight years later. The beautiful woman who had saved them all so many times and had forgiven them so very much.
And Emma was actually in love with the pirate. So very in love. Blast it.
Hook bent down to look him in the face. “Are you okay, mate?”
“Not really.” David said drily. “You want me to let you marry my baby girl. I am perfectly entitled to a bit of shock.”
“Is it really that shocking, Dave?” Hook’s eyes were alight with amusement and trepidation.
David glared at those bright blue eyes. “Fine. No, it’s not that shocking. You love her, it’s quite obvious. Everyone in Storybrooke knows it. But she’s still my little girl, my daughter, though.”
“Of course, mate. Take your time,” he chirped, waving his hook in the vague direction of David’s head. The pirate strolled toward the door. David called him back before Hook could escape.
“Hook. Just a few questions.” Killian grimaced and slumped back to stand in front of David as if preparing for an execution. Of course, this, to him, was probably something akin to beheading with a blunt axe.
“Yes, mate?”
David put on his most serious and frightening ‘dad’ face. (Snow said once that it looks like he’s about to stab the nearest person with a butter knife. This sentiment pleases him. However, Emma always chokes back laughter when he wears this face. He’s never sure whether to believe his wife.) “Do you love her?”
“Yes.”
Hook’s quick, sincere, and positive answer really rather scared him. “Does she love you?”
Killian paused. “I would like to think so,” he said softly. Insecure pirate.
She totally did, but David certainly wasn’t going to tell him so. Since the dawn of time, it has been the duty of a future father-in-law to make his daughter’s husband sweat. And it was Emma’s duty to tell her pirate-boyfriend-True-Love if she did or did not love him. Not her father’s prerogative.
Yes, he was going to let Killian marry the girl. What was wrong with him? This was Captain bloody Hook here. His daughter was going to marry a pirate.
Despite his past and what Killian still thought of himself, he was a changed man and, dare David so much as think it, nearly deserved Emma.
Captain Hook was going to marry his daughter.
“Let me think it over a few days, Killian. Come back in a week and I will give you my executive, fatherly, and final answer.”
Hook stiffened and narrowed his eyes at David. He increased the scary dad face. (It always works on Killian.) Hook quickly nodded (practically the bow of a peasant to his prince) and escorted himself out.
Once the clomping of the pirate’s boots faded down the stairs, David laughed. This was going to be fun. He rubbed his hands together and got to work planning. Day 1—
By the time he arrived at Day 6 (he planned to force Hook to babysit Neal for a few hours longer than expected), he realized a sobering thing. Mary Margaret and Emma were going to kill him.
By the end of Day 7, he realized that he didn't care. He could enjoy his last moments torturing Hook and sadly pronounce his (sincere) blessing on their union on his deathbed. Such an old-fashioned and romantic way to go, David thought.
---
The next day was quite fun. David walked around Storybrooke contemplatively, muttered about killing the man with “his own hook,” and scribbled on pads of paper some nonsense about “let my daughter marry the pirate or no.” The pro-vs.-con charts always showed in favor of tossing the pirate out of Storybrooke. He “accidentally” left one of these pages on Killian’s desk.
He quite enjoyed watching Killian’s face slowly go white.
Mary Margaret, who had in fact been in on Hook’s plan of ask-Dave-for-his-blessing-on-his-daughter and had taken Neal out to the grocery store at exactly the right time, caught on to David's scheme that evening. “David, what are you doing?”
“Don’t tell Killian, but he’s going to marry our daughter,” he grimaced. “And I’m making him pay for it,” he ended with a smile.
Snow laughed and kissed him. “How much longer are you going to make him suffer in suspense?”
“He’ll be back in six days. Until then…” David lifted an invisible glass in a toast “may thee suffer well, Captain Jones, in exchange for my fair daughter’s hand.”
---
The object of the disturbance of ordinary peace figured out that something was up two days into the Week of Decision, the day in which David had planned to give Hook the silent treatment, something that Hook was very bad at handling. She asked David about it in the sheriff’s office. “Dad, why is Killian scared of you?” Emma inquired sweetly, leaning forward, her eyes curious and just a little bit threatening. David certainly wasn’t scared of his daughter. No.
Snow’s voice in his head helpfully corrected him. You definitely are, David, just accept it. She may be her father’s daughter, but she’s still too much like me. Snow’s voice was right, as always. He shook his head and Emma’s words sank in.
“Hook is scared of me?” he asked gleefully. The great Captain Hook was afraid of Prince Charming, renowned for his fairytale of great romance. David's life had been worth something, if even just to dispel all thought of a calm and meek Prince Charming.
“Yes, he is, he’s dating your daughter. He’s been chronically scared for three years. Why is he more scared than usual?” Emma sighed.
“No reason that I can think of, honey.” His innocent smile didn’t work on his beautiful lie-detector of a daughter.
She narrowed her eyes, glared, and shrugged her shoulders as she stands. “I’m going to Granny’s for lunch. Want me to bring anything back for you?”
He shudders. She’s going out with Hook and (his imagination went a little too far and remembered the passionately revolting and touching kiss between his daughter and the pirate that he had walked in on the other day)… nope; he’d just as soon get his own food. Ugh. “No, thank you, Mary Margaret’s expecting me. Have a nice lunch.”
With a little princess wave Emma skipped off to Granny’s and her one-handed pirate. David scowled. His baby girl.
---
On Henry’s mandated “movie night” a day before the final answer (the day in which Hook got abandoned with Neal, a job he had handled very well and made Mary Margaret nearly squeal with the prospect of blue-eyed pirate grandchildren), David saw that Killian was indeed frightened of him. The pirate didn’t voice as many innuendos as usual, kept Emma at a parentally-suitable distance of five inches away, took perfect care of Neal (the kid was infatuated with him) while Snow worked on dinner, and washed the dishes afterwards oh so very carefully.
Emma didn’t like the parentally-suitable distance and kept curling back into his side. (Judging by the small smirk, however, Hook clearly didn’t mind that Emma was so close to him.)
Mary Margaret just sighed in happy complacence at her cute daughter and her cute boyfriend.
Henry watched David and Killian with his too-wise, penetrating eyes. Twenty-three minutes into dinner he suddenly grinned, bounced in his seat a little, and spent the rest of the evening smiling with the joy of a kid who knows not only exactly what's going on, but that he's in on the secret before his mother, the point of the extra Captain Charming tension, as he and Emma called it.
David glared some more.
His eyebrows were starting to hurt.
But oh, was it worth it. In a few months he was going to be walking his baby girl down the aisle so that she could exchange her life-long vows with the pirate (who, sadly, was pretty much perfect for her). He was going to have some fun first. For another—David discreetly checked his calendar—day.
---
On the night a week after Killian asked for permission, David heard a tentative rapping at the door. Normally, the pirate would go ahead and let himself in whether by Emma’s key, pilfered over lunch break, or a bobby pin (once he broke down the door and just stood there with one eyebrow raised and a “Dave, get a stronger door”), but he was probably so insecure about the whole thing that he thought polite knocking would be better.
“Come on in, Hook,” David called. He heard the rustling and clicking of a bobby pin in the lock.
Really, the pirate looked quite terrible. Hair more messed up than usual, slightly pale, and fingers messing with his rings. David probably should have thought the whole thing over a bit more before deciding to plague at Killian’s insecurity. Snow’s voice in his head rebuked, David, how could you do that? He pushed Snow’s lovely voice back. It wasn’t like he was saying no to the pirate’s request. Deep down, he was very nearly pleased that he was going to marry Emma.
“Well then, Dave, your answer?” They stood a few feet apart. David tried to glare but clearly the “dad” face didn’t work. He could feel his face trying and failing to hold back a smile.
This brought a disgustingly hopeful expression to Killian’s handsome face. (Yes, David can admit it, he’s got eyes. He's going to get some gorgeous grandkids. Oh, David, told you, the grandkids are going to be beautiful, Snow’s voice whispered.)
“I have thought long and hard about this, Hook. Approximately thirty seconds of serious contemplation, if you must know.” Killian choked back some probably angry words. “You love Emma, Hook. Despite the fact that no one, ever, shall be worthy of her, you come quite close. And you have saved all of our lives a couple of times over. So, Killian Jones, I give you my blessing. You can go ask my daughter to marry you.”
The hopeful expression faded to an overjoyed glow, to overwhelming thanks, to mischief, and then to terror. David noted each of these expressions with glee. Then worry. I have gotten to know the pirate. My best mate. My soon-to-be son-in-law.
Blast it.
That’s not a bad thing, Snow’s voice reprimanded. Fine, David admitted to Snow’s voice. It’s not that bad.
“Thank you, mate. I'll protect her whenever she lets me and I'll do my level best to attempt to deserve her. Of course, that'll never happen, but she's done pretty well on me so far, wouldn't you say?” Killian leaned forward and hugged David. After a second of a-pirate-is-hugging-me shock, David returned the manly clasp.
“Now get out of my sight, Killian,” David muttered. Killian saluted and left his presence. Once the sound of those heavy boots faded, David collapsed back onto the couch, rubbing his forehead. And that was how Mary Margaret found him that night. She didn't say anything, just sat down next to him and kissed his jaw. He managed a weak smile and hugged her close.
---
Killian Jones must have asked Emma Swan to marry him that very night, because they couldn’t keep their hands off each other or their eyes off each other in the sheriff’s office the next day.
Of course, there was the pirate-y ring on Emma’s left ring finger as another clue.
David could only wince and run away whenever he walked in at the wrong moment. Which was quite often. Often enough that he left work early. Very early. At lunchtime, to be exact. He hadn't needed to see his daughter pressed back against the wall by Hook, nor had he needed to see such touchy-feely kissing involving tongue. His baby girl kissing someone like that.
---
He tossed himself onto the couch when he got home, feeling like Sherlock in that British show Emma and Henry liked to watch and Killian always frowned at. Pouting and lying on the couch. And the cheekbones, he thought, were rather similar.
He watched the ceiling for a few minutes and thought about Emma. His baby girl that he had closed into a magical wardrobe and left to find her own way in a world without magic. And it gave her no family, no friends, no love.
He had missed twenty-eight years of her life. And he had only had her to love as a daughter for four years. Four short years and now he was giving her away. Giving her away to the man who loved her most, yes. (But it still hurt. So very much.)
Was this what all fathers thought when they had to place their baby girl's hand into the hand of her husband? Probably. He didn't know.
He wasn't ready. Teasing Hook had been satisfying, but it had only been covering up the fact that Emma was his daughter and he didn't really know how to be a father and he loved her so much and soon her name was going to be Emma Jones. She wouldn't be his baby. (Technically, of course, she wasn't his baby. They were, biologically, the same age.)
David thought about his little baby until he fell asleep. He woke up to the sight of blonde hair and a soft smile.
“Hey, Dad,” Emma said.
“Hey, sweetie,” he replied, pushing himself up and watching his daughter.
Emma sat down next to him on the couch and tugged at Graham’s fraying shoelace for a second. “How are you?” she finally asked.
“Exhausted. Still wincing at what I walked in on earlier.” David rubbed his forehead and closed his eyes at the remembrance.
“Learn to knock,” she said unrepentantly.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” David smiled.
Emma put her hand in David’s. “Are you okay, Dad?”
She called him Dad. David could never hold up to the lie-detector when she called him Dad. But he diverted her question. “Are you happy, Emma?”
Emma nodded, trying to hold back a smile.
“That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you, you know.”
“I know, Dad,” Emma whispered, sounding so much like Mary Margaret. In a lighter tone, she added, “Although I bet your original plans for me did not involve a three-hundred-year-old pirate.”
“Not remotely,” David admitted. “I would have liked you to marry a nice rich man in a castle close to our own, your True Love. Nice stable life with no villainous back story.” Emma opened her mouth to speak, probably in her pirate’s favor, but David interrupted. “Of course, now I realize that the Saviour could never find it in herself to love someone as tame and calm as a rich prince. Had to go for the pirate.”
“And the tame and calm shepherd boy couldn’t go for a sweet, simple, peaceful shepherd girl who lived just over the next hillside. You had to fall for the errant princess running from the Evil Queen.”
“Like father like daughter, I suppose?” David smiled, rubbing his wedding ring.
Emma laughed as she rubbed her own ring. He loved her laugh.
--
And he heard her laugh so many times on her wedding day. As he was walking down the aisle and she saw Hook’s face of absolute awe, a giggle as he said his vows, a laugh cut short when Hook kissed her, uncontrollable laughing during the reception.
It was his favorite sound.
Finally, when Emma and Killian were standing in front of everyone, just about to leave the field for their honeymoon in their white-picket house, David felt one tear running down his face.
Hook let go of Emma’s arm for just a moment to stride over to David. He hesitated for just a moment until David yanked him into a hug.
“Take care of her,” he whispered into the pirate’s ear.
“Of course, Dave,” Hook said indignantly as he pulled away. “I’m a man of honor, and I’m hook-over-heels in love with Emma.”
David grinned, slapped his son-in-law (still weird to say) on the back, and pushed him back to Emma. Emma smiled at him as Hook took her hand.
Then they turned and walked to the bug, which had “JUST MARRIED” painted across the back, courtesy of Henry and Roland. Hook held the door for her and Emma got into the driver’s side. Hook ducked into the passenger’s side.
And then Mr. and Mrs. Jones were off.
“You okay?” Mary Margaret came up behind him and squeezed his arm.
“Yeah,” David said, wiping away the last tear. “It’s just all that I ever wanted for her.”