In my FanFiction, Adrift, Hook gets hit with a dastardly curse that alters his future and turns him to darkness. Emma gets thrown in for the ride, and it becomes clear that she’s still a savior – sent to save him. In this scene, he’s still not sure what her agenda is or if he trusts her, but he can’t deny that she stirs his blood. He plans on wooing her in a time-honored fashion: He’s going to make her pancakes.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she said, looking a bit surprised. “I did. I think it was the motion of the ship.” She moved to take the wheel, keeping her eyes on the horizon.
He started to make a glib remark about his comfortable bed and the motion that could be found upon it, but he stopped himself. They had a truce, and it wouldn’t do to muck it up. He still needed to understand why she was really here and they had one more night at sea. Getting on her bad side again certainly wouldn’t help him in any way.
“The sea can always be counted on to rock you to sleep,” he agreed. “I always sleep better on board than I do on land.” He looked out across the waves. “I can’t imagine a life without the Jolly Roger.”
Her head snapped around to look at him. “Yeah,” she mumbled. “I guess that would be unthinkable for you.”
He gave her an uncertain nod, and a frown creased his forehead as he made his way down to the galley. He had the feeling he was missing something here, and it was unsettling. Hook didn’t like feeling unsettled. He managed to make a decent breakfast for them both as his mind replayed every word she’d said since she arrived. It was like looking at a chain with some of the links missing. It led to something, connected him to something, but what?
And in between those thoughts came the other thoughts, memories of the way she felt in his arms, the softness of her lips and her skin and her breasts, the way she felt against him. He’d known from the very start that he could make her burn and she had been incandescent in his arms. He was cursing himself for not seeing it through yesterday, knowing now that one small taste of her would never be enough.
He swore under his breath as he loaded the breakfast onto a tray. Look at him now – so tied up in knots over her that he was playing servant and treating her like some kind of pampered, virginal princess. He’d gone too far down a dark path to ever come back to the light now, and besides, he had a reputation to maintain. He wasn’t behaving much like a dastardly pirate captain.
He’d ply her with pancakes and pump her for information, and when they made port in Ticaret, he’d either have some answers or he’d be rid of her.
He wished that thought didn’t give him an ache in his gut, but it did. This time would be different, though. This time, she was going to leave him. And who could blame her?
He climbed the ladder back up to the deck, balancing the tray of food and then setting it on the chest they’d been sitting on the night before. He walked across and ascended to the wheel deck.
“You’ve done well, Swan,” he praised. “We’re still on course.”
“I think I can manage pointing a ship in one direction,” she replied with a smirk. “Is that breakfast?”
“Or something close to it. I never claimed to be a good cook.” He reached down, finding the strap, and tied the wheel off. “Come on. Let’s see if it’s edible.”
He gestured for her to precede him and then he followed her over, picking up a plate off the tray and leaning with his back against the rail. Emma picked up her own plate, then sat on the end of the chest, bringing the pancakes up to her face and sniffing.
“Why am I smelling rum?”
“I cooked the apples in it. That’s about as close to syrup as we’ll get and I think I’ve made it tasty enough.”
She gave him a look and he rolled his eyes. “The alcohol burns off, you know.”
Emma dug in, taking a small bite and sliding it into her mouth. She looked over at him in surprise. “These are really, really good,” she said. “Or maybe I’m just starving.”
“Probably a little of both, I’d wager.” He shoveled a forkful into his own mouth. “Damn. They are good.”
Emma swirled another piece of pancake around in the apple mixture on her plate. “Never figured you for the domestic type.”
He smiled. “Well, I’m hardly going to bandy that about, am I? I have a reputation to maintain, after all. Being a villainous pirate and the scourge of the open sea is a fearsome responsibility, you know.”
“I’ll bet.” She pushed another forkful of pancake into her mouth, and he tried very hard not to stare at the way she licked the fork clean.