Who: Hooked Queen (Regina & Killian) What: Discussing Killian's business ventures and asking a question When: This afternoon Where: A brunch cafe, with cinnamon rolls Rating/Warning: Innuendos, of course Status: Complete!
Killian wasn’t usually one for brunch, he thought. His former alcoholic, drowning-in-a-bottle-of-booze nature meant that he would sleep late enough to likely miss the occasion anyway, and his version of breakfast at whatever time of day was often a pot of strong coffee spiked with whiskey and maybe toast Nothing fancy, nothing elaborate.
But ever since getting together with Regina, who was about a thousand steps classier than a rough, rugged Irishman, his tune had changed a little. His habits too, most notably, he’d quit drinking except in the occasional social situation. It wasn’t some terrible pub, chipped glasses and broken bottles used as weapons, where he sat for hours and hours, the warmth of alcohol ribboning through him with kind of a lazy warmth, but an actual restaurant specific for brunch. The homemade cinnamon rolls had been the draw for him. A bit of charm meant side-swiping the hour-long wait, and by the gods, he ordered those fucking cinnamon rolls as soon as they sat down.
And coffee, generously poured, sipped on while they waited. For a pirate, he thought he looked dapper. Killian cleaned up nicely, you know.
“If something is shat from the sky during this, I quit completely,” he stated, rubbing his face with his good hand. Honestly. But it was nice to be out and about now that establishments were re-opened after the madness.
It was a late morning filled with plenty of carbs. Alongside his order of frosted cinnamon rolls the size of a fist she requested a plate of belgian waffles - the kind topped with freshly sliced strawberries and powdered sugar, and let’s not forget the hot syrup filled with a thousand calories (give or take) that it’d come with. Excitement about Niko’s arrival, finally - even if it was in the middle of Trevelyan’s dreams plaguing their reality - meant they were busy. Busy meant sometimes food was lacked, and therefore hunger came with a surprising amount of force.
“I think we’re due for a period of silence,” she mumbled against the mug before the smallest of sips was taken. It was still steaming, she didn’t want to burn her tongue. “I’d say just sit back and relax, but there’s something I wanted us to talk about?”
They had discussed Zelena in passing before, and the entire reason he ever even came to Orange County was by a twist of fate - Killian was simply that guy a friend recommended to investigate some things for her. Her blood, funny enough, and he showed up at her doorstep with the documents. In the paperwork were the whereabouts of her mother and sister, records and points of what they’ve done and what they were involved in. The Wicked Witch had an unstable history, and now that she seemed to have cared about her homewrecking sibling who bore her lover’s child in the dreams, it sparked Regina’s concern about her here more than ever.
Logically, she wished it weren’t the case but she felt what she felt, and she felt it strongly despite it all.
“About Zelena?” she winced. Sorry to ruin the ambiance by bringing up Greenie, darling.
There was a lot to celebrate, as of late - the green bumholes that had appeared and then were sealed up notwithstanding. First off, Killian had officially received his PI licence, all professional and legal - he’d taken the exam and passed, much to his surprise, and luckily took it about a day before the demonic mess hit the fan, so he supposed that was one example of the gods smiling down on him rather than taking a shit. This brunch could be considered celebratory for that and of course for Niko’s birth which was undoubtedly more exciting than Killian going legit. He was looking forward to seeing the sprog again, likely wrapped in the knitted blanket his former Naval officer godfather had made one-handed, on a loom, since a brief hospital visit was all he’d gotten in thus far.
So no, he wasn’t expecting another verdant bomb to be dropped over coffee this late morning.
“Ah, well, alright,” he sipped from his cup - probably should have added more sugar. Even just mentioning Zelena was enough to get him tasting bile in the back of his throat. He didn’t care how she seemingly changed overnight, she was bloody awful in his view. And didn’t deserve to be embraced as a ‘hero’ so readily, but then again, neither did he. “What about her?”
A slip of her sister’s name from any tongue was enough to make just about everything have a bitter aftertaste - she knew Zelena was the last person anyone wanted to talk about. Still didn’t change the fact that in both worlds they were bound by blood, and it still didn’t stop that blood from wanting to know how she was doing. It’d be a little hypocritical, wouldn’t it, to hold everything she’d done in some other lifetime against her when she didn’t even know about it?
Regina knew what that treatment was like first hand, but she wouldn’t let that smidge of empathy blind her from the potential risks making obvious contact with her sister could bring.
“About looking her up again,” she bit her lip and placed the coffee down. “I think I actually care about her more than I do my own mother here - probably because she hasn’t threatened to cross the California border and fuck up my life.” Yet. There was always the possibility. “I know she wasn’t in the best place when you first looked into her, and I just...need to make sure she’s not in too much trouble.”
Perhaps it’d be a regular thing, to look up what her older sister was up to. Regina knew of her existence and there’d always be some kind of bond between the queen and witch - unwanted or not.
If Regina wanted to make it a regular thing, then Killian was fine with that. He’d already done the work and unless Zelena dropped everything and moved to Timbuktu under a new identity, it wouldn’t be difficult to pick up where he left off. And pay a little visit to see what was going on with her.
“It’s important to you?” he asked, but obviously it was or she wouldn’t have brought it up. So, rhetorical question. “Then I’ll see what else I can find. Perhaps take a quick trip to Oz - “ Kentucky, not the other realm stuffed with poppy fields, munchkins, emerald cities, and yellow brick roads. The whole place resembled a carnival that had thrown up on itself, from what he understood - there was really no desire to visit. “...and get a thorough report.”
The coffee cup was set down and he reached across the table to snag Regina’s hands, with flesh and blood and the cool metal of his prosthetic. “Perhaps she’s not as bad,” he offered, and he supposed it wasn’t fair to judge. Sure, they’d both been 2 for 2 when it came to parents here matching their dream counterparts (Cora and Brennan, meaning - and Regina’s father seemed similar as well), but Killian had no way of knowing if Zelena’s circumstances twisted her into something resembling the Wicked Witch.
Neither she nor Killian lived the majority of their lives seeking vengeance over love they’d lost. It all spiraled out of control when the dreams hit them, that hatred and insatiable thirst for revenge making their lives here a deadly cocktail of internal struggle - Captain Hook and the Evil Queen were simply part of who they were (even if her dreamself seemed to have currently destroyed that part, like a desperate mourning idiot), and the Wicked Witch would be a part of Zelena should she ever come here as well.
Maybe she could be better. Maybe Cora, too. The two of them seemed to reach a peak of some kind of half-assed redemption in the dreams - but did they really want to tempt fate? Distance, at the moment, was the best option for all.
“That’s a ‘maybe’ I’m not sure I want to gamble with,” Regina told him, a ghost of a sad smile. His hand was squeeze, always treated like it was flesh and blood. “But thinking like that fills me to the brim with guilt I don’t want. It’s not her fault Cora abandoned her, though I can’t even begin to imagine how this world shaped her - without magic.”
If things progressed alright, she’d think about making a formal introduction. Possibly.
“At least in this world she didn’t attempt to steal and sacrifice a baby for a time traveling spell?” Killian noted - and, well, Zelena also hadn’t murdered Neal. Also a positive. None of them were as godawful as their dream counterparts were, and he was glad for it - because while he didn’t claim to be some great, shining example of humanity in this life he also hadn’t mowed down countless innocent people in his fruitless quest for revenge.
They wouldn’t talk about when he became the Dark One. Killian was still attempting to shove all that guilt someplace where his mind couldn’t get to it, and eat away at him.
But at any rate, he would take a trip and find Zelena - he’d drum up a detailed report, and he wouldn’t even charge Regina anything. Except sexual favours, hmmm. “I’ve got to do some traveling anyway,” he noted, leaning back a little when the plates of food came by. The decadent spread unfortunately broke their hand hold, but he’d get back to it later. “For other cases and such. So I’ll be gone a bit, though am accessible on the road. I’ll be sure to ring you up and talk dirty to you.”
Points already for the wicked sister - unless Killian unearthed evidence of ceremonial baby sacrifices, Zelena was already far better than her fairytale counterpart. There wasn’t much attention paid to the waiter once the plates were brought forth, mostly because she was mulling over his statement of him being on the road now.
Regina didn’t pout often - it was a very unheard of thing for the regal queen - but the way her bottom lip stuck out a bit? Definitely a pout, and she wasn’t ashamed to show disappointment in being without him. That hand was sought after again and this time around the cinnamons rolls and powdered waffles. “Am I going to have to worry about you getting into somewhat questionable situations?” Well, he was legal now but that didn’t put him out of risk. “Because I do expect calls. At least texts on a constant basis to know you’re alright.”
In case her majesty had to come out and rescue the damsel pirate. She wouldn’t rule it out.
Killian could probably count on one hand (which was all he had anyway, oh ho) the number of times he had seen a blessed pout cross Her Majesty’s face. It was adorable each and every time though, don’t get him wrong. He gladly gave up digging into cinnamon rolls for the time being, taking her hand when she reached for it and interlacing his fingers with hers.
“Not many,” was his oh-so-reassuring answer. “I’ve got a few long-lost family member cases, and one for a particular friend of mine here - well, she’s looking for her father and he’s likely not running in squeaky clean circles.”
A corrupt cop? Hardly. But good thing he knew where to zero in on and focus - because corrupt po-po’s were sort of a specialty of his. The previous work with the CIA spooks and rooting through the rubbish there had really given him a lot of practise. “I’ll text you though, darling, I promise. I’m good at navigating the shark-infested waters by now.” There would still be some risk, yes, despite the legalities of his profession - he wasn’t going to be tailing husbands of bored socialite wives everyday. Still very much with the nitty gritty, but he wanted to help people find closure and he couldn’t discriminate.
The more cases he got, the more of a foundation his reputation gleaned - not that he didn’t have one already with what he had dipped his fingers in before, but the clientele would increase. Regina was proud of him. To make a semblance of an honest man from a pirate was certainly quite the feat, too.
“Speaking of…” As much as she enjoyed having their fingers tangled, it was time to pull away and dig into their brunch feast. Replenish from the couple meals lost in the fiasco of life, maybe even get so bloated for a nap. Gods, when was the last time she’d done that? “You haven’t decided anything for an office yet, have you? Permanently?”
Regina had something of an idea to propose, and she thought of the wording as she poured the sticky syrup over her waffles. A more amount than necessary but there were days she would splurge - which were also the days the rare appearance of sweatpants, buried deep within her wardrobe like a secret, would emerge.
He would probably always be a pirate, or have traces of the lifestyle lingering as part of who he was - because Killian couldn’t just give it up so easily. But just because he wasn’t exactly the hero of the piece didn’t mean he couldn’t do good things on occasion. In all actuality, he prefered the morally grey area, where he felt best suited to dwell in.
Now, to tackle cinnamon rolls. They were famous here, all ooey and gooey, sticky decadence at its finest. The Captain would have to use eating utensils, since he didn’t want to get his fingers covered with frosting - but luckily this breakfast food was so soft he could slice into them with the side of the fork and pop the bites into his mouth that way, all with utilising only one hand. “Make sure to text me pictures of the sprog too, while I’m gone,” he added, since if Nikolas was going to do something cute while he was away, he wanted to be able to see it somehow.
“But as for the office, we’ve been looking at a few buildings. Nothing really seems right though, so the houseboat has been kind of doubling as one.” Which felt more right than anything, to be honest.
Well, of course there’d be pictures of Niko. Regina promised to come around the household to help with the mundane chores so the new parents would be allowed some rest. Henry would assist too, of course. Assuming his little brother’s wails through the night didn’t deprive him of sleep. “I’m starting an entire album on my phone dedicated to him and Henry,” she scoffed. “There will be plenty to show you.”
As for the office news, that was good to hear - she figured nothing had been decided on yet anyway. She paused before continuing, meticulously cutting the waffle into bitty squares before digging in. “Well, I was thinking. It would save the two of you some money if you just used the houseboat as an office?” Killian would still be there daily, she assumed - there was absolutely no tearing him away from the sea. “You know my house, Killian, I have space. Just not the people to fill it, and there’s an extra full-sized room for Kenzi.”
Obviously the invite would be extended to the sister, as the sole reason why she was here was for the only brother she had. Henry occupied the second spare one the nights he stayed and technically there was a third, a smaller one, but it was filled with boxes and was sort of a ‘miscellaneous’ area for work. Old samples of carpet, paint and furniture stuffed in. Regina rarely entered it.
“I...really?” Talk about being blindsided a little! Killian certainly was, but not in a bad way. Those cerulean eyes of his widened a little though, surprise flickering there. He knew that he and Regina were on the ‘serious’ side of the spectrum, since they’d talked about children someday, even if it had been a fleeting mention - so with that, of course the other steps would happen. Namely, moving in together.
The fact that she was also willing to offer a room to Kenzi meant a lot to him too - because the Jones siblings were kind of like a duel package. Obviously one day his sister would probably want to move on, if she found herself a serious partner of her own or what have you, but otherwise she’d be welcomed with her older brother as long as she wanted to stay. Even if she did move out, he hoped she’d still remain in close proximity. The same country was always nice.
He wiped a smear of frosting from his upper lip. Attractive. “I think it’s a good idea, darling. I’ll talk to her about it - the houseboat would be cramped anyway, if we decided to just do business from the living room.” Sure, he had a maritime desk there and other Naval furniture, so it looked professional, but the bedrooms could be used more as private meeting rooms and such. Or storage.
“And it’s what you want? Sort of...expanding your family a bit?”
Those apple-red lips quirked into a smirk - Regina didn’t intend to make his eyes burst out of his sockets but she supposed the question was an important one, wasn’t it? “It’s what I want,” she chuckled, bringing the mug to her mouth for another sip. “I know I’m asking for trouble when it comes to sharing my home with a pirate and his fashionable quartermaster, but I find it I like it better when there’s people under my roof. Despite the mess all of you bring.”
And, well, their relationship was definitely the long term sort. There wasn’t a chance in hell she’d let it end with her stabbing him with Excalibur to destroy the curse - defying the odds to get him back from the realm of the dead in limbo cemented that. “I spoke to Henry about it, since he occupies some of that real estate often. He’d be excited to see you two more often.” Something about gaming with Kenzi on a more frequent basis, which she was fine with as long as it wasn’t that zombie hooker game she raved about.
But it’d feel more like a home with the people she loved in it.
Well, that was sweet of the lad. Killian grinned, a bit of a pleased glint to the expression - no zombie hooker games, but Kenzi would certainly appreciate having another gaming partner. And the idea of family - naturally, he was all for it. Already what was somewhat tight-knit had been woven even closer after Nikolas’ birth, and he knew that this was the right decision too.
“It’s also what I want,” he said, which was of course a yes. On his end - he still had to bring it up with Kenzi, and he did hope she’d want to move in. “We don’t even have a tonne of things, not really. Just the cars and a little furniture, but hers can go in her room no trouble and I can always sell or donate a few pieces of mine.” There wasn’t much he’d want to bring aside from clothes and dream knickknacks and such - the living room would stay as it was, maritime themed, and the bedrooms would be cleared out to look more like an office rather than a place you laid your head at night.
Ah, growing up and having an actual relationship. Was this was what life was all about?
Regina showed the row of pretty white teeth when a strawberry went into her mouth, a little bite to the fork when the smirk transformed to a grin. “We’re going to have get creative with our bedroom antics, you know,” she pointed out. “But I have no doubt we’ll manage. I also don’t mind if you want to add a couple things around the house - it’ll be yours, too.”
It could use a bit of change anyway, so really, her majesty wouldn’t mind terribly. As long as a coat of glitter wasn’t slapped onto any surface ever, unless it was Kenzi’s room - keep it containedthere. Please.
“And if you need help sprucing up your houseboat to make it more into an office space?” Hmmm. Regina’s eyes glanced skyward in thought. “I can help. You’ll owe me, though.”
“Good thing we’re both the creative types,” Killian winked, sucking a bit of frosting from the edge of his thumb. Gods, now he was going to go into a coma thanks to this very sweet breakfast - often, he wasn’t even really much of a sweets person anyway, he preferred savoury things and for his desserts to not taste like a canister of sugar. But there was just something about ooey and gooey buns for breakfast, especially if they were infamous. A rare treat every now and then. “We managed in your carriage, we can manage with more people in the house - your walls are thicker than mine, anyway.”
And that was a damned blessing - the type of fucking where it was all screaming abandon might have to be reserved for an empty house, certainly, but otherwise he wasn’t too concerned. They both had healthy appetites for the lusty components of a relationship.
The mention of owing Regina for help with converting the houseboat into an actual place looking like what JR Investigations should made him give a rumbly sort of laugh. “Name your price, love.”
In a gothic carriage while wearing impossible layers of clothing that somehow turned into a fuckfest that rocked the wheels - they managed then, they’d managed an occupied house. If she had to pull him into the depths of her crypt for privacy, so be it.
“You’re not the only one who expects payment in sexual favors, darling,” Regina retorted, reaching across the table to slice off a piece of his cinnamon rolls with the edge of his fork and then, plop, in her mouth. “Lawn and yard are yours to mow on the weekends. Same with hedge trimming. Neither of those are euphemisms, though.”
Her queenliness winked right back.
Hedge trimming, how quaint. Of course Killian, Captain of Innuendos that he was, the cheeky request made him snicker. “I’ll even do it shirtless if you’d like,” he offered, returning the favour and plundering a chunk of Her Majesty’s waffles. Arrr, powdered sugar. “Plus all the sex acts in payment that you can handle. It is the world’s oldest profession, you know.”
So really, he was fine with it. In fact, he was even fine with finishing up here and reenacting the carriage rendezvous in his Mustang.
They’d do it anywhere, these two.
If he didn’t process her words in some kind of lecherous manner than she would assume he was sick. But shirtless, mmm. “I’m so glad we’ve reached a mutual agreement,” she chuckled. “None of what happens between now and your trip counts, however - it’ll be me getting in what I can get to compensate for your absence.”
It wouldn’t necessarily mean all sexual frustration would be cured while he was gone, but there’d be plenty more on his return - especially if they were going to move forward and shack up. Ease and convenience for when he came back home to her.
“I’ll try not to be gone for too terribly long of a time. But detail and potentially photos of how you’re compensating for my absence while I am indeed gone are both welcome.” Technology was a wonderful thing, wasn’t it? Really helped people who loved each other grow closer.
But speaking of that, Killian was about ready to burn off the calories from this carb-fest, by indulging in some of that intimate closeness. “And - “ He waggled those villainous brows of his, deliberately nudging Regina under the table.
“If you’d like to get in whatever you can now, I wouldn't protest.”
Oh, those expressive eyebrows and his ‘come hither’ (which was also synonymous to ‘come fuck me’) look. Regina knew it all too well. “I suppose we can box the rest to go,” she casually suggested, the nudge returned - to the point where she might have pressed her foot against the pirate’s testicular treasure juuuuust a bit. Not enough for a footjob, of course, that wasn’t her thing.
They’d make those set of wheels rock too, before the carbs took a toll and put them in a brunch coma.