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The first time he danced with her, she was only a couple days old. It was the middle of the night.
They had just brought her home from the hospital that afternoon- an event that had seemed to come much too soon for his liking. After only three days in the hospital, they were being sent home with their daughter- and he felt wildly unprepared.
He was trying to go in with confidence. He had outrun curses through multiple realms- and more than once, at that. Surely he could watch over something as tiny as an infant. As tiny, and helpless, and fragile…
He was freaking out. Emma assured him that Claire really wasn’t as breakable as he was afraid she was, but he could tell she was more cautious as well.
However, three nights of no sleep had made both of them realize that she really must not be fragile after all- not if she could scream that loudly, and for that long.
On this particular night, Claire could not be soothed. She wasn’t hungry, she didn’t want to be held, she didn’t want to be rocked by Emma. Killian had let Emma take a whack at calming their daughter before he sent her to bed. "If she won’t sleep either way, there’s no reason I shouldn’t be the one calming her. Go rest, love," he had told her.
Killian had tried everything to calm Claire, but to no avail. After a while he simply stood, bouncing her in his arms and trying to shoosh her, though he knew there was no hope to get the crying to stop. At one point, tired of the bouncing, he decided to try talking to her again. He started telling her the more pleasant stories of his time on the sea, detailing adventures of swashbuckling and sea shanties. "We sang one that went a bit like this," he’d told her. And he began to hum, softly, for his daughter.
After a moment, he could see that he had finally found something that worked, and he hummed more of the song, beginning to sway to the tune. As Claire relaxed more, Killian hummed and carefully turned on the carpet in the nursery, ever so carefully dancing a perfect waltz.
Not too long after that, Claire had quieted, eventually closing her eyes and falling back asleep. He sang to her until he was sure she was dreaming, not wanting to risk waking her up.
As he lay her back down in her crib, fast asleep, he whispered.
"Thank you for the dance, Princess."
---
And then, when she was three, she started watching a cartoon about ballerinas.
It was love at first sight. Claire became obsessed with the dancers- she drew pictures of them with her crayons, she tried to dress like them, she hummed the music that they danced to as she fell asleep. Snow had bought her a ballerina tutu after their last visit, seeing how much her granddaughter adored the pretty dresses the dancers got to wear.
But, most endearingly (Killian thought): she would get up and try to copy their dances when the show came on.
There was one evening, right around her birthday, when Emma was at work for the afternoon. Killian was in the middle of preparing dinner for himself and his daughter, complete with her favorite foods, as always. He planned to let her eat on the couch with him- something that Emma never allowed while she was home- and they would watch the dancers together.
In fact, he had just finished putting the dinner on plates when he heard the piano music that played at the beginning of the show.
He stood, leaning against the wall, holding the plates of food. And Claire, on cue, got to her feet and twirled around to the music of the television. He watched quietly for a short while as she fumbled around, not quite coordinated enough to pull off the twists and turns she was attempting.
It didn’t take long for his Claire to win his heart over- it was something she was wonderful at doing.
"May I have the next dance, Your Highness?" He asked, holding out his hand in invitation. Claire smiled up at him, her baby-tooth grin making his heart hurt with love for her. She nodded as she placed her hand in his, and he scooped her up. She was walking on air, laughing as Killian spun her around in his arms before placing her feet on top of his (he couldn’t believe how tall she was getting- wasn’t she a baby just yesterday?)
He danced around the living room with Claire on his feet until he was sure their dinner was cold. But he had found that in moments like these, it was worth the trouble of reheating it.
They did, eventually, get around to having dinner; Claire had been thrilled when Killian let her eat on the couch. The entire meal, Claire told Killian all about the latest developments with the characters, and he listened intently to every word (Emma often poked fun at him, for their little daughter was so obviously wrapped around his finger. "She’s going to be able to talk you into anything when she’s older if you’re not careful," Emma always warned).
A month later, for her fourth birthday, Killian finally convinced Emma to put Claire in the dance lessons she had been asking for since that night.
---
After that, there was the time that Killian dragged her to the father-daughter dance held at her school. It really had been Emma that pushed them out the door earlier that evening, but the distinction didn’t matter much to Claire, who did not want to go in the first place.
She was a couple months past her twelfth birthday- right at that age where she was starting to worry more about her peer’s opinions of her, or her looks, or whatever else. Parading around in front of all her classmates was not something she was too excited about.
Killian, on the other hand, had been pleased when Emma brought up the dance. It was Snow’s year to pick the theme, and she had, unsurprisingly, picked Royal Ball. There were rumors that there would even be a live orchestra to play the music, and everyone was to come dressed in their coronation best. It was terribly cliche, but at the same time, Killian had been delighted to get to take his daughter to her first ball.
Once they actually arrived at the school, it took Killian several attempts to convince Claire to dance with him. The rumors about the orchestra were true- and the music was beautiful. He knew she wanted to dance; Claire had always been a dancer. But that night, she was preoccupied. Claire kept looking over her shoulder, or adjusting the straps on her dress. Killian watched her bumble around nervously for as long as he could before finally dragging her closer to the music, so they could hear it better.
He had a theory that as soon as she heard the music- saw it up close- she’d want to join in on the dance.
"What’s got you so nervous?" He asked, looking out at the ballroom floor Snow had had commissioned for tonight. Geppetto and August had spent the better part of a month making the tiles in such a way that each one fit into a spiraling pattern, no matter where it was connected. It was beautiful.
After some time, she answered, her voice coming out as a whisper as she tugged at her dress once again. "I just feel like everyone’s looking at me."
Killian nodded- he knew the feeling. Sometimes though, he found that it was best to just embrace it. "Well, what if we give them a reason to look?"
Claire opened her mouth, started to ask what that meant- but she found out soon enough. Killian grabbed her hand, leading her gently to an opening on the floor just as one song ended and the musicians prepared to start another. She protested, but Killian wouldn’t hear it.
"Just one dance? And then we can go home," he promised. She agreed, though she certainly had her reservations about it.
The orchestra started to play a beautiful, slow waltz that Killian could have probably danced in his sleep. He led Claire through the first few movements until she didn’t need his help anymore- she picked up very quickly. To her credit, Claire mostly knew what she was doing. Every now and then, she would step on Killian’s foot, or kick him in the shin on a dip, but he didn’t mind; he could tell by the smile on her face that his plan had worked.
She reminded him so much of her mother. He was entranced by how familiar it felt to dance with his daughter; captivated by how much it reminded him of dancing with Emma, all those years ago when they were trapped back in time. And Claire really was the spitting image of her mother- her blonde hair had grown out to her back by now, and she was getting quite tall.
Upon completing the waltz, he bowed his head and thanked her for the dance, making her smile even wider. He didn’t try to talk her into staying for another song; they simply started dancing again once the music started, staying on the ballroom floor until the night was over.
---
Some years later, a boy from school asked her to the junior prom.
The day of, Ellie and Emma took Claire dress shopping, and then to Snow’s house to get ready. They were supposed to come back before the dance so that Ellie could do her hair (one thing not present in the Charming household: a curling iron). But Killian could have sworn it was past the time for them to have come home. He was beginning to worry, almost sending Emma a message to check in, when the door opened with a bang (Ellie, in her signature fashion at the time, had thrown open the door, slung her bag on the couch, and yelled, "we're home!")
Killian, who had been upstairs watching a movie, starting moving to join his family downstairs. But before he could get all the way to the stairs, Claire was running towards him.
She looked like royalty.
She spoke first- his breath caught in his throat at the image of his girl looking so old. “Mom said I should come show you my dress,” Claire smiled, swishing the skirts and smiling- obviously very happy with what she was wearing.
“You look wonderful, darling,” He told her, smiling at how happy she looked.
“Why thank you,” Claire smiled back at him, giving an exaggerated curtsy.
"And why are we being so proper this evening?" He asked, kissing her hand with a bow.
Claire laughed, rolling her eyes. "Grandma’s getting all misty about a tradition she had with her father. She said every time she had a ball, he’d dance with her before she went in or something."
Killian waited for her to continue, but she didn’t- she was waiting for him to catch on. Eventually, he just asked. "And this means…?"
"She wants you to come dance with me in the living room, before I go. Since, you know- the whole ‘dad gets the first dance’ thing."
Killian smiled, finally understanding. "I’d be honored," he said, sticking to their formalities. Claire smiled and shook her head.
"Come on," she said, dragging him to the living room. And they did dance- a sweet, quick, sort-of awkward spin on the small patch of carpet that wasn’t a mess (between baseball practices, dance class, and piano lessons, they were falling behind on the tidying). And when he whispered to her, "Just be yourself, he’ll love you," she answered, with a smile:
"I know."
---
And then there was now. He was holding her, spinning her across the floor in a very proper dance that they had practiced for weeks. He didn’t have words. He had found that there was no feeling that even came close.
His daughter was married today. Married. He couldn’t believe it.
“Ah, don't go crying on me, Dad, “ Claire said, her voice soft. Killian’s eyes had been welling up since the music started- he couldn't help it. And she found she was having a hard time keeping her own tears away, watching him.
“Crying? Who’s crying? Certainly not me,” Killian teased, feigning confusion. He was going for a joking tone, but the lump in his throat was making it hard for his voice to come out the way he wanted. Claire gave her father a look- one that Emma had taught her; a look that meant we both know that’s not true.
Of course, he gave in right away. “I’m just… remembering you, when you were younger.” Claire tilted her head, smiling, and suddenly Killian found himself beaming at his daughter- unbelievably proud of who she had become. “Do you remember when you kids made me watch Peter Pan?”
Claire smiled at the memory, and Killian spun her around (it went better than it ever had in rehearsal). When she was facing him again, she smirked. There was a fondness in her voice when she responded. “How ‘bout the time you et us cut school and go to the water park? Mom was so mad.”
“Well how could I forget that? I was in trouble for days afterward,” and they both laughed, shuffling their feet as the music got slower for a moment.
They were quiet for several moments, just smiling and shedding a few tears as they swayed to the music. After some time, he spoke again. “Thank you for letting me get to know you,” he whispered, his voice breaking once again.
Claire got up onto her tiptoes and kissed her father on the cheek. “Thank you for letting me be who I am,” she said, her sentence ending as the music trailed off. Killian, taking the silence as a cue, only nodded as he embraced his daughter once more.
“I suppose I have to give you back now, aye?” He sighed, trying to lighten the mood.
“Well, that would be ideal,” Claire joked, shrugging her shoulders as if it didn’t particularly matter either way. Killian took one more breath, trying to have more time before he gave his daughter away- no matter how short. Claire had to lead him off the dance floor and back towards their family. Jude met Claire with a kiss the second she was within arms reach, as if he loved her so much he couldn't wait (something that made Snow smile- to nobody's surprise).
Killian couldn’t stop himself from returning the gesture to Emma, who had seen it coming. It was a wonderful, slow kiss wherein he quite literally swept her off her feet and spun her around.
Eventually he pulled away, and they shared a quiet laugh. “We did good, Swan,” he told her, pressing his forehead to hers. He felt her nod, enthusiastic. And he felt her smile.
“I’d say we did really good, actually,” Emma smiled back. They kissed again, a true fairy tale kiss that she still couldn’t believe she got to have, until Killian pulled her to the dance floor.