ᴡᴇ ᴘɪʟʟᴀɢᴇ, ᴡᴇ (plunder) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2016-12-31 19:28:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, killian jones (captain hook), regina mills (evil queen) |
Who: Hooked Queen (plus Henry for a little bit)
What: Regina figures out what her super sense is, and then gets a ring
When: New Years Eve, a little before midnight
Where: Superhero Dance Party
Rating/Warnings: Just feels and innuendo, because it's THESE TWO
Status: Complete
There were a couple of reasons why a lad like Henry would enjoy ringing in the new year at what was essentially a museum of science - one, the added bonus of everyone being in superhero costume was him being amongst kindred spirits and two, he was a giant nerd. Therefore, alka seltzer rockets and ‘what’s your super sense?’ tests were really right up his alley (he’d already been able to tell the difference between pear and apple jelly beans, so his super sense was super taste - though when you were that age and lived off candy anyway, it could just be a fine appreciation for processed sugar). Uncertain about which superhero to dress as, since he supposed dressing as Captain Hook was out of the question (in no world was he a hero, not really, at least in his self-deprecating yet realistic mind) Killian eventually consulted Henry for advice and decided on Zorro. It meant he got to dress in all black which he already owned, wear a hat and face mask with those acid-blue eyes a deviously bright splash of colour from behind, and carry a sword at his hip - also convenient, since he also owned this sword and hardly ever got to take it for a night out. Not that he planned to use it, but this beauty really made the costume. “Come on - “ Henry in his Hawkeye (of course; he’d been given archery lessons for Christmas, so he was living and breathing the Avenger in purple now) costume motioned the boring adults onward. “We can get a picture in the photo booth!” There was indeed one set up, complete with green screen backdrops and a station explaining the fascinating process behind that. Enthralling, really. Liam was gone by now, and predictably Killian’s mood had darkened a little - but he knew it was going to happen, and it had been a wonderful visit that he sorely needed, so he couldn’t be too upset. Besides, tonight was supposed to be fun. If a bit nerve wracking, with his proposal planned. He also wasn’t used to being away from Meara for very long, but she’d be alright with her nanny figures. “Well, I do look rather dashing,” he noted, with a swish of his cape. “Suppose we ought to commemorate it.” Perhaps Regina wasn’t all ‘balls to the wall’ with dressing the part of superhero, she wasn’t a complete sourpuss. Her son from another life was excited, she had helped make sure every single detail of his costume was perfect, so she figured she should put effort in participating in her own way. All she really did was find a way to properly accessorize for the cause - a sleek Catwoman mask over her eyes, ears included, and the rest of the ensemble was all shiny leather (pants, and a light fashionable yet sassy jacket). Fairly recognizable but not so gaudy, and pleasantly formfitting - especially in the ass department. Killian couldn’t grope, though. One could not gift her with fecal earrings and expect access to the buns. “Oh, don’t you start,” scoffed the queen, gloved hands on Henry’s shoulder as he led them to that booth. Pictures it was, she wouldn’t say no, and it wasn’t much of a secret anymore that the two of them were stars of their own selfie-series that a certain pirate liked to photobomb. “This isn’t about you, Guyliner - and please keep whatever duckfacing lessons your sister has given you to yourself.” They were so in love, they really were. Traipsing the lines of passion and that infamous banter. “Darling, that stick from your bum - should you extract it before or after the photo?” Killian asked innocently, though likely he’d have seen something off about Regina’s posterior. Just because he wasn’t groping in public didn’t mean he couldn’t look, which he was. He fully expected to receive ‘I’m so sorry my twat’s been so cold and desolate lately’ fucking later on, when they were home. And Henry was in bed. And Meara was asleep. And hopefully an engagement had already happened. Sorry, Kenzi. It was likely she’d hear something she didn’t want to. Henry finagled and maneuvered into the photo booth, adjusting his shades - he had a pretty sleek costume, good for superheroing, but thankfully had left the legit bow and arrows at home. “Okay, I’m hitting the button! Don’t blink or anything.” What about eyebrows, would those do? Zorro surely had an intense lift to the brow - so the devil will know who sent you! “There we are, that one turned out well,” the Captain noted, as Henry green-screened in a background for them. In front of the Eiffel Tower, how classy. It was like they were really there, right. “Can I go dance now?” Henry asked, once they had their expert selfie. Obviously he had his eye on the Black Widow about his age, someone to cut a rug with. How sweet. “After, so the beating I give you with it doesn’t make the pictures,” Regina swiftly retorted and make sure to punctuate that with a kiss - on the cheek, one that didn’t make the picture either because she was making an attempt to have the photo come out quite nice. Killian, of course, had to look like he was in the process of plotting world domination with that villainous brow raise. Ah, what was that saying? ‘This is why we can’t have nice things’? Something like that. That moment caught in time and then printed on a strip was soon in her hands - she’d keep it to make sure it wouldn’t get lost throughout the night - and she was shaking her head at the sight of it when Henry’s voice captured her attention. It was her turn to lift an eyebrow. Nagging, motherly instinct was telling her to interrogate him endlessly on how long he was dancing, with who, if it was with multiple girls or one, that if he walked away from her line of sight he was in big trouble. But she refrained - she didn’t raise him here, and there was a boundary of parenting she didn’t want to cross because of that fact. “Don’t make it difficult for us to find you,” she told him. “Go on, have fun, we’ll do our best to not interfere and embarrass you like the adults we are.” And then like a shot, the Roadrunner leaving dust in his wake, Henry was off. It was a dance party, after all, so Killian could understand why the lad wanted to enjoy that part of the festivities. He, personally, would avoid the seizure-inducing lights; the young ones were already used to that thanks to video games, no doubt. Ginger ale, as a refreshment and champagne substitute, would be served later when the clock officially turned over to midnight. “Such a grand age, isn’t it?” Killian grinned, sliding an arm around Regina’s waist. Catwoman, rrreow - he certainly did enjoy when she was a bad, bad kitty. “I imagine we can entertain ourselves in the meantime though. You never did find out what your super sense was, did you?” He had a purpose for inquiring, and getting her to do it - really. All part of his master plan, that had his stomach doing flip-flops over itself like an Olympic gymnast on meth. There was a pout. An actual pout from her majesty, nose somewhat scrunched with puckered lips because it was a ‘grand age,’ as her darling swashbuckler said. To see Henry grow from a boy to a young man in the dreams, and witnessing that transition here too - that feeling of pride swelled but with some sadness. They were growing up too fast and no doubt she’d be thinking that of Meara as time went on. Those baby snuggles, spit bubbles, curious grabs and toothless smiles wouldn’t last long. And then it’d be taking her to events like these, but she imagined if she announced her desire to dance Killian would be circling like a panther ready to scruff a pimply suitor for a ‘talk.’ Regina’s hand was pressed against his chest and, alright, she’d lean against him and welcome his attempt at adorable gestures as long as he wasn’t going to inquire why she refused to wear poop jewelry. “No,” she blinked those inky lashes, suspicious. “What are you getting at?” What, jewellery made of actual shit wasn’t fashionable? Perish the thought! Killian ought to attend more runway shows or something, he was absolute pants at that sort of thing. Snicker, guffaw. But anyway. “Nothing,” he responded, edge of his thumb brushing the pout on Her Majesty’s lips, red as a rose. Or blood, perhaps? “But since we’re here, may as well. I’m curious about what my own is - besides a super tongue, of course, which is for later.” Wink. Now he just had all sorts of dirty pictures playing on a reel in his head. How could anyone blame him though? “Here, come on, it’ll be fun,” he led her in that direction, where there were a plethora of options at that station. “All you have to do first is open your mouth and close your eyes.” Nothing, he says, as he then requests her to open her mouth and close her eyes. Dirty things crossed her mind too, pirate, which was why her smirk had the vibe of something rather salacious - briefly, anyway. They were at a superhero party for children with the awkward pricks of hair blooming on their baby faces, there was really no way any of this could become even remotely x-rated. And they had class. Mostly. At least she did. “I suppose since we’re in public and surrounded by pre-teens,” Regina snorted, dragged along to satisfy his sudden urge for child’s play. “It’s safe to follow your instructions. If this somehow goes awry…” Well, there was no threat she could voice that’d make his balls twitch a bit without earning strange stares from chaperones and whatnot but it could all be left to Killian’s vivid imagination. But, fine, eyes closed and mouth open. Ahhhh. Giving Regina the jelly beans, the way Henry had experienced them, seemed world’s safer than tossing a yardstick at her and seeing how fast she caught it in order to test her reflexes - she probably wouldn’t find that amusing, even if Killian did. “You don’t hear my zipper, do you? So nothing dirty will end up in your mouth as a surprise,” he purred, a low rumble of a laugh starting in his throat and making him grin. “At least not right now.” Maybe later. They could do the x-rated version of this superhero test, in the bedroom. But alright, there went one jellybean - it was called canned dog food but it actually tasted like chocolate pudding. How clever and misleading. “Have you got super taste, darling?” he wanted to know, then dropped a kiss on her mouth while she still had the jellybean. Yes, that was certainly manufactured sugar and chocolatey. And what was next, smell? He unscrewed a canister and took an idle sniff - gods holy trousers, that was certainly onion. Perhaps the wrong one to open. “Keep your eyes closed, by the way,” he added, his own vibrant blues now watering from what he’d just smelled. Oh, look, she caught it - and didn’t choke. Regina hadn’t known was flavor to expect either so there was a tentative munch, considering she knew what the hell it was and as a rule, jellybeans didn’t often taste that good; more like gummy plastic attempting to be sweet and failing, but this one wasn’t as nauseating. “Mmf,” came the muffled sound from the kiss (her mouth had already been busy), and the moment her eyes cracked open his instructions had them closed again. Against her better judgement, perhaps. “Not disgusting but still bad. I’m hoping this isn’t something being recorded because I feel ridiculous, Killian, and what the hell did you just open?” Her fault for not scanning the damn table more closely. Time for that nose to scrunch again, rather adorably, and her lips pursed to suppress a growing smile because how old were they, honestly? “At least it wasn’t garlic - or actually, I won’t touch this one,” Killian stopped himself before he could open another bomb that would perfume the air with something revolting. “So we’ve deduced that perhaps smell nor taste is not your super power - “ Or actually, it wasn’t like he officially deduced that, but cut him some slack. He already knew that Regina’s superpower was ripping out hearts, adding a dash of salt, and sinking her teeth into the squishy flesh. But at any rate, moving on. For the purposes of this proposal, which he had best get on with before he got far too nervous and decided to shelf the idea for another night. Which would be a shame, because wasn’t New Years the perfect time to begin a new chapter of their lives? Though he supposed it could be worse. He could propose at some incredibly ridiculous place like Disney, at the top of Splash Mountain, wherein he dropped the ring. “Alright, keep those eyes still closed,” he insisted and removed the velvet box from his pocket. The ring was taken out of it, and he placed the precious bauble in the palm of her hand. “Can you tell what it is?” Suspicious, suspicious. Well, to be fair she was always suspicious of his intentions - and not in a mistrusting way, to clarity. Not like he’d leave her strapped to a torture device table or put his hook into her back, none of that, but he had an impish streak. Sometimes it was cute. Other times, it’d give her the urge to fulfill that often used ‘throw you down the goddamn stairs’ threat. Like those earrings. Asshole. “It’s jewelry,” Regina brilliantly deduced, but it felt... “A ring?” At least it wasn’t anything slimy, wet, or moving. Not even a dick in a box, how surprising.. “Please don’t tell me this is jewelry to already match the earrings you gave me, because I swear I’ll -” Wait a second. Rules be damned, an eye opened very slowly to peer at her hand. Wary, but intrigued. This could either be something very sweet, or something so very trollish that a glass window would be broken by something pirate-shaped. If you asked Killian, those earrings were bloody hysterical - and he was sure Regina would laugh about it later. Likely she knew that he, almost always, had some sort of cunning plan in mind; he didn’t have to be the Dark One to be sharp as the blades he wielded, and while he didn’t have magic he made up for it with cleverness - so yes, the earrings were leading up to something. The not-quite dick in a box was also leading up to something. Like him having a moment of genuine, candied sweetness, perhaps? He’d never proposed to anyone before, so he was a little flushed and a little nervous. “I think the style’s a bit different than the earrings,” he chuckled breathily, looking down through his lashes in a manner that was actually bashful. “But those earrings did ensure you wouldn’t suspect a thing - “ Because she’d be blinded by her simmering annoyance at how her boyfriend got her such an asinine present, yes, brilliant, “...and I wanted you to be completely surprised. Now just think, if you say yes, then you’ve got a whole lifetime ahead of you dealing with my sense of humour.” Then he realised he should clarify what he was asking, so there were no misconceptions regarding what Zorro was saying to Catwoman. “If you say yes to...marrying me, that is.” Gods, it was beautiful. Not made of shit either. Dusky eyes, lined perfectly in that infamous ‘cat eye’ look, were both fully open and the ring secured between her index and thumb to examine. An Irish Claddagh ring; hands for friendship, crown for loyalty, heart for love. Killian had given her a ring already - Liam’s, always worn around her neck (even now, underneath her clothing), and it had marked the start of them. This, of course, was the start of something them too - but more. So many things had happened since the night they had made a mess of the sofa they christened. Death, resurrection, a child they chose to have and treat as their own. Regina wasn’t afraid of the next step, and neither was he. Such a change from the captain with commitment issues, wasn’t it? At least he could fuck away his problems with her, for the rest of their lives - and of course eventually deal with them as a team like couples typically did, yes, fine, but gratuitous sex first and always. “Better than you haunting my house and scattering underwear,” mused the queen, and there was such an adoring little smile in place of what was usually a smirk. Beneath those iron bars and black heart was something squishy, believe it or not. Arms circled his neck, the token still held in her hand. “You are part of my happy ending here; we’ve got a shot at it, and we’ve been doing well so far, don’t you agree?” They ought to incorporate that into their wedding besides on the honeymoon, their own personal motto - gratuitous sex first and always. Killian smiled, and it was completely real and open, shiny like stars in the sky and untouched by the dimming effects of city lights. “Of course,” he concurred, both hands - flesh and mechanical - resting against Regina’s waist. “I’m eager for that ‘doing well’ streak to continue.” He’d much prefer a wedding to being dead, wanting to speak to her and see her and yet being so far out of reach. Like watching through impenetrable glass; it had been endlessly frustrating. “I do love you, Your Majesty.” Even when he gave her shit earrings - well, especially because he actually got to give her shit earrings. How he adored getting under her skin. Just then, right as he was going for ‘so I’ll take that as a yes?’ kiss, Henry popped up. Quite literally, in fact - who could tell how long he’d been observing? “Awwwwww!” Death had claimed the lives of loves from another world and it tried its hand here too, but Regina wasn’t going to let that tear them apart - not now, not this soon. Down the road, maybe, when the silver in their hair made them so distinguished and life had been lived. “I love you too, Guyliner,” she chuckled, kissing him regardless of Henry’s interruption. Don’t worry, nothing raunchy, no tongue. It was sweet, and meaningful. “Just in time, too,” she then told Henry with a wink. “Killian is supposed to put something on my finger.” The ring wasn’t on, not yet! Regina dangled it in front of her eventual-husband’s face. “He thinks asking my hand in marriage is going to make me forget my Christmas present, but, hm. We’ll see.” “What if I find the apple jelly beans for you? I’d sort through all of them, to make you happy. But you’ve got to admit that the monogrammed towels are the useful part of my gift,” he grinned wickedly, and slid the ring onto Regina’s finger. He’d found it with the help of fellow scourers for treasure, choosing the one he thought she’d like the most out of a plethora of options, and had it fitted to what he hoped was the correct size. It was, it fit rather nicely. And gleamed bright crimson like freshly spilled blood, how sweet. There, now they were officially engaged. “They’re going to pour the ginger ale soon,” Henry said. “Let’s go!” And they could count down to the new year, gladly leaving the current one behind - it hadn’t been perfect, but there were the more radiant spots. Like this one, for example. Ginger ale, hm? At least it was festively bubbly - she and Killian would find other ways to toast later, but the moment was perfect. In the presence of two of the most important men in her life, with superhero ensembles no less, so what a memorable way to end a year that started with a curse. “We won’t miss it, don’t worry,” Regina smirked, and unbeknownst to the son from another life her hand slid down her fiance’s backside for a loving squeeze. This was hers, why the hell should some bearded mage hog her goods? It was also a taste of what would come of their festivities. “I don’t imagine you’ll be bringing someone you danced to toast with?” If he got a kiss for the New Year, fine, but there better not be tongue. Henry didn’t even notice the ass grab, Regina staking claim of her property (which Killian didn’t mind, not in the slightest, arrrrrr). He even returned the favour, when he wrapped his arm around her waist and got a bit handsy too. “Yes, what about that lovely spider lass?” he asked. “She’s coming too. Don’t embarrass me,” the teenager begged, as if his pseudo-mother and her date were contemplating such a thing. Of course not, whatever gave him that idea? Killian glanced at Regina, lifting an eyebrow deviously. “I suppose the story about him spewing soda from his nose the other day is out as a topic of conversation?” he inquired, sliding over to fetch them all plastic ‘glasses’ of ginger ale. It would do for now. Or about the time he cut himself practice shaving his non-existent facial hair, but that’d be utterly cruel to bring up, wouldn’t it? Poor thing, though - Regina was going to let him have his ‘coming of age’ night or whatever it was called nowadays. Unless she deemed the little lady unworthy and glaring somehow didn’t scare her enough. “We won’t, but I can’t promise I won’t take a picture and send it to your parents,” she told him, taking her precious plastic flute of child-friendly champagne. “We’ll be behind you, pretending to not notice.” Except she’d be watching the entire time and proceed to pout (again) about how quick time was passing, up until Killian distracted her with an obligatory New Year’s kiss anyway. |