Tell Me A Tale

Disclaimer: I own none of this, though they own my heart.

A/N: This is probably the fluffiestthing I have ever written. It has surely been done to death, but here's my stab at it. I'm not convinced by the actual telling part, but I hope it isn't too bad. Enjoy!

"Tell me! Tell me!"

Killian bit back a laugh as the tiny- but rapidly growing- brunette tugged on his black shirt. He crouched until he was staring into big blue orbs, took her small hands into his large one and gasped theatrically.

"You mean I've never told you that story? I believe I've made a grave mistake. That shall have to be remedied now, don't you think?"

Her excited giggles sent a shot of warmth straight through his heart. Which meant it was still there, still beating. Still working.

"Don't think I've ever heard your version before."

He glanced up to find that Henry had entered the bedroom, hands in his pockets and a smirk on his face. Killian took a ridiculous amount of pride in that smirk, which the boy (or man, really) had meticulously perfected throughout the years.

"Aye, you haven't indeed, lad." Hook raised an eyebrow. "Well, have a seat, and listen up as I tell you the tale."

The tall, strapping sixteen-year-old sat on the flowery bedspread and put his arm around the young girl's pink pajama-clad shoulders, pulling her closer.

Killian rolled up the sleeves of his black shirt, before settling down at the edge of the bed. He pulled one leg up, rejoicing - not for the first time - in the glorious invention that was the blue jean, and leaned on one knee to whisper conspiratorially, "Are you sure you're ready?"

Black curls bobbed up and down in assent.

"Very well. There was once a pirate, whose only loyalty was to himself. He had been a good man, once. A man of honor, a man in love. However, fate played cruel tricks on him, and those he held dear were brutally ripped away, one by one. He swore to avenge those he'd lost, even if it meant losing pieces of himself in the process."

"His quest for revenge led him down many dark paths, filled with betrayals and double crossings. He wasn't proud of it, love." Killian did not have to glance at Henry to imagine the knowing look that would undoubtedly feature on the lad's face.

The teenager might have missed certain details, but he had witnessed most of Killian's struggle to 'do the Right Thing' - as dear Charming would put it - and knew the former pirate had fought hard to put his past behind him. Not forget it; Killian was not so foolish as to believe one could erase the past as if it never existed. No, he had faced his actions head-on and amended his wrongs, so as to be a man. The kind of man she deserved.

"Still, he clung to the belief that revenge was all he had, all that was left of him. He was wrong, of course. He didn't know it yet."

Killian paused in his tale to gauge his audience's reaction - specifically the young girl's, who was currently huddled against Henry. "Should I proceed, Nora? If you're too tired, if you want me to cease, just say the word-"

"No! Keep telling the story!"

"As m'lady commands." Killian caught Henry's amused expression and sent him a wide grin. "Where was I? Aye. His journey led him to cross paths with a formidable, deadly witch, who offered him what he wanted: a chance to exact his revenge. In return, he would have to gain the trust of a group of women, two of which were from Storybrooke."

"Yes," he assured Nora, as the brunette's eyes widened. "The witch promised the pirate his revenge if they both found a way to Storybrooke. She needed information about the town, so as to avoid any nasty surprises once she arrived. She had her own agenda, of course, and was merely using the pirate as an extra hand. It didn't matter to him. And so the pirate lied about who he was. He pretended to be a poor blacksmith, who'd survived the destruction of an entire village and who was grateful for their help."

"That's not a very nice thing to do." As ocean blue eyes blinked at him, Killian had a strange feeling he was being reprimanded.

"No, it undeniably isn't, love. But what do we keep telling you? Good always wins. As it were, one of the four women - as resourceful as she was beautiful - saw right through his lies, and warned her companions. The pirate tried to keep up the charade, but it was no use. She threatened to leave him to the ogres if he did not reveal himself."

"Before him stood this fierce, brave force of nature, small knife in hand, who had slashed through all of his defenses. The pirate knew, at that very moment, that he had lost. He was hers. When they asked him who he was, he told them his name - his real name. Killian Jones. He had been growing tired of all the pretense, but had no reason to give it up. Not until a blond princess marched right up to him and waved a sharp, pointy object in his face, giving him hope."

Killian scooted closer to the young girl, and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. She was his spitting image, from the jet black curls to her bright blue eyes. Poor thing had inherited his pointy ears, too. But her smile, the one currently lighting up her face - it was her mother's smile.

"That, Nora love, is how I met your mother."

"Well, that was a perfect example of how to start a healthy, stable relationship, Killian.» Emma's dry tone, laced with humor, drifted into the room. «I think we're doing a pretty good parenting job."

Nora piped up. "I think so too."

Killian smirked as Emma shook her head in despair. "Aren't you just your father's daughter?" She sighed, and beckoned the dark-haired man over. "A couple of holes and fuzzy lines in your story, honey," she muttered in his ear. "You think she won't notice?"

"I figured I'd buy us some time to think up nice little explanations on why her father wanted to kill her uncle Rumple, amongst other things. Or why he is three bloody hundred years old, and still so devastatingly dashing." He smiled roguishly and tugged at her hair, as Emma groaned. Nora knew about Neverland's endlessly rejuvenating properties, and Great Time Freeze of Storybrooke, but Killian just enjoyed reminding Emma of her husband's good looks. "Your family tree is hell, love, and our histories are rather complicated. We'll work this out." His lips lingered against her cheek. "I'll leave the two of you."

"Good night, Nora." He leaned forward to drop a kiss on his daughter's forehead, and did not have time to react as lightning fast fingers tightened themselves around his collar.

"You didn't finish the story, Daddy! What happened next?"

Chuckling, he pried her fingers open. "I did too! The next part's a whole other chapter. We'll save it for another time. Maybe your mom will tell you that one," he grinned, sending the woman in question a wink.

He left his daughter's bedroom, and Henry followed not far behind, having wished his little sister good night.

"So, Mom threatened you with a knife, and almost let you become ogre brunch. Grandma and Gramps are going to be delighted to hold on to their title of 'Most Romantic Couple'." Henry teased, cheeky smile in place.

Killian scoffed. "Oh, Henry. You read the book, you should know better. David knocked your grandmother off a horse and she clobbered him with a rock. And that was before he trapped her in a giant net dangling from a tree, and started to flirt." He scratched a spot behind his right ear. "This whole bullying-your-true-love affair seems to be a family trait, actually."

As a thought suddenly occurred to him, he turned to Henry with a raised eyebrow and a wicked grin. "Tell me, lad. How did you first meet little Gracie?"

It was a long shot, he would be the first to admit it, but as Henry turned a bright, furious red and shuffled into his room while muttering under his breath, Killian wondered if there was not a small grain of truth behind his theory.

"That was low, Killian. You know how shy he is about her." He closed his eyes as her scent - chocolate, spice and home - wrapped itself around him. Her breath tickled his ear as she crept up behind him. He heard Nora's door click shut.

"You heard your son." He twisted his body to face hers, pinning her against the wall. His lips curved into the smile only she could bring out. His wife. "He was doubting our intrinsic capacity for romance."

Emma laughed, and the delightful sound sent his old, battered heart soaring. "I think it's impossible, Captain Jones, to doubt our capacity for romance. Anyone who has spent five minutes in our presence lately has probably gone home to puke out rainbows and puppies."

"My, what a way with words you have." He rested his forehead against hers, and watched, enraptured, as her eyelashes fluttered shut. Even now, years later, he had trouble believing it. He was hers, heart, body and soul - he'd known that from the moment she'd glared at him, glorious, defiant woman that she was, at the top of that bloody beanstalk. But now, she was also his. And together, they had built something both of them had always yearned for. A home. A family. "Perhaps I should tone it down, then, Mrs. Jones."

He brought his left hand down her side so it rested on her waist, as his thumb caressed the imperceptible bump of her belly. Her green eyes flickered upwards to meet his (oh, how he hoped the little one would inherit her eyes), and she leaned in, their lips a hair's breadth apart. Focused on her mouth as he was, he had not realized she had moved her arms until he felt her fingers locked against his nape. "Don't you dare, pirate," she whispered with a dazzling smile.

He brushed his lips against hers. "As you wish," he promised, and sealed it with a kiss.

He had told his daughter a story that night.

Their tale, however, was far from over.

A/N 2: As I finished this, I just realized their daughter was called Nora Jones... Whoops. And I know Nora sounds like Cora. BUT! In my defense, my sources tell me Nora is an Irish name meaning 'honor'. Honor. So yeah, basically, any other name was impossible for me after that little info found its way into my heart. And sorry (not really) if that ending gave you cavities!