Title: Stormy Seas
Summary: A certain pirate is paying attention to a certain princess, and Prince Charming doesn't like it one little bit.
Spoilers: Post-ep of a sort for 2x22, "And Straight On 'Til Morning."
Characters: Emma, Hook, and Charming, with guest appearances by Snow and Regina.
Rating/Warning: T, for language and innuendo.
Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time and its characters were created by Eddie Kitsis and Adam Horowitz and are owned by ABC. I'm just trying to get through hiatus without going nuts.
Author's Note: I've got a couple of requests in the queue, but this story's been itching to get out for a good couple of months. I hope we get something similar to this when the show comes back because Protective Daddy Charming does a heart good. ;) This connected-vignettes style is a little bit different for me, so I hope it worked. As always, feedback also does a heart good, especially when I'm writing characters I've never written before (i.e. Hook). Enjoy!

"What the hell is the point of magic portal beans if they don't take you where you need to go?" Emma Swan grumbled as she paced the deck of the Jolly Roger. Her hands itched to pick something up and pitch it against a wall. Her eyes swept the deck, leading her to add the first two items to what was sure to be quite the lengthy list: Awful Things About Pirate Ships. Items One and Two: no small objects to break and no walls at which to throw things.

The boat pitched underneath them, nearly knocking everyone off their feet. Item Number Three: no steady ground. Pacing was infinitely more difficult when the floor kept rocking beneath one's feet. Still, Emma paced, her frustration growing with each pitch of the ship.

Because, goddamn, she'd just fallen through a magical portal in the ocean. The seas had literally swallowed the boat and her passengers whole and spit everything out … in the middle of another ocean. Though Emma hadn't been expecting to arrive at a full-blown Neverland marina with slips and moorings, she'd at least expected, you know, land.

But no, there was no land. Only water, as far as the eye could see.

"Well, we are in Neverland, love," Captain Hook himself replied.

Without even turning to look at him, she could see the smirk on his face. That irritatingly full-of-himself, amused-by-her-aggravation smirk that generally sent her anger soaring. "I'm not your love," she ground out through gritted teeth.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her father flinch and eye her curiously. Huh. She would have to ask him what that was all about later, when she wasn't so worked up.

She finally stole a glance at Hook, standing at the helm and looking every bit like the pirate captain he was. His lips were indeed turned up in that smirk, just as she figured, and he was watching her pace – attempt to pace – through rather amused eyes. "Regardless, the bean did bring us to Neverland. Not the island itself, of course, but the seas surrounding it. We'll make land in due time."

In due time? That was all he could give her? Vague descriptions of time didn't exactly do wonders for her stress level when her son's safety – her son's life – was on the line. "How much time is due time?"

"Hard to say." Before she could even open her mouth to call bullshit, Hook met her eyes, his expression serious. He actually looked like a normal – dare she say compassionate – human being. "We're sailing into a storm and we'll be fighting the current the entire way to the island but worry not, lass. I'll get you to Henry as soon as I can."

Emma held Hook's gaze for a moment longer than she intended. When the typical smug, arrogant, I'm-so-roguishly-charming smirk settled back on his features, she tore her eyes from his. She looked to her mother instead, heaving a sigh.

Snow simply gave her the ghost of a smile, grasped her hand, and squeezed.

Nighttime in Neverland was … bizarre. And disturbing. So bizarre and disturbing that Emma almost missed the Enchanted Forest. She'd thought the sound of the ogres moving across the land during the night was the most awful sound she would ever hear. Then she'd arrived here and heard countless children crying for their families, their little voices combining to form one long, loud wail of anguish.

Was Henry out there somewhere, crying for her? Crying for Regina? Did he know they were coming for him? He had to know, right? He had to know that his family would follow him to the ends of the earth to get him back. He had to know that his family would always find him. Didn't he?

Even though the cries of the children tormented her, she could not bring herself to go below decks. She needed to be out here, needed to feel close to Henry. Hook had dropped anchor, opting not to sail blindly into rough seas and promising to continue the journey to the island at first light.

With no progress being made until the morning, Emma felt like she needed to be doing something, even if all that something was was sending out silent messages to her son, telling him that they were coming and to not give up hope, and wishing she believed in telepathy.

"What are you doing out here, Swan?" a soft, accented voice asked from behind her.

Emma didn't answer, mostly because it was rather obvious what she was doing: sitting on a barrel on the deck of a goddamned pirate ship, staring up into an almost completely black sky. The storm clouds ahead blocked out the stars, but every so often, muted flashes of lightning brightened the clouds. When the storm eventually hit, it was going to be a doozy.

Hook's footsteps approached but she couldn't bring herself to turn around to look at him. She hadn't even realized she was shivering until a hand and a hook draped a leather jacket over her shoulders. She looked up at him sharply, expecting a smirk and some kind of charged comment. Instead, she found nothing but sincerity on his features. She gave him a tiny smile of gratitude and quickly looked away again lest she inadvertently encourage his typical lechery.

He must have sensed more from her silence than she expected from him because he simply patted her shoulder and turned to walk away. He paused after a moment, speaking up softly. "We'll find him, love. This won't be his future."

The tears welled in her eyes without warning, and only a swift biting of her lower lip kept them from spilling over. When his footsteps faded, she finally chanced a peek over her shoulder. Hook was gone but her father was standing in the forecastle entryway, holding a lantern. She gave him a nod to let him know she was okay, even though she wasn't okay, not by a long shot. From the tense yet understanding smile he gave her, she could tell that he wanted to comfort her but knew that she wanted to be alone. Then he turned around and ducked back into the darkness of the small corridor.

A sigh escaped Emma's lips as she turned her attention back to the cloud-filled sky. From the displeased look on her father's face, she gathered that he had seen everything that had happened with Hook. And she gathered that he didn't like it one bit.

Emma gave Hook's leather jacket back to him at breakfast the following morning. Only after Regina raised a single eyebrow at her did she realize that she probably should have chosen a less public venue than the galley to return the garment. Then again, privacy was a little hard to come by with six people on a pirate ship.

She successfully ignored Regina's arched brow but Hook, of course, could not let such a perfect opening slip past. "Leather jackets in Neverland are quite like the white dress shirts of your world, aren't they, lass?"

"Keep dreaming, pirate," Emma scoffed, rolling her eyes.

A lascivious grin spread across the pirate's lips. "With pleasure."

Emma groaned. Apparently the Captain Hook from the previous night who'd lent her his jacket and promised to help save her son had left the building. Er, ship. Whatever.

"What's going on in here?" David asked as he and Snow stepped into the galley. His tone was authoritative, and he was staring directly at the pirate.

"Not much of anything, mate," Hook easily replied. He gave David a devilish grin and, because he must have had a goddamned death wish, winked at Snow.

David squared his shoulders and let out a breath through his nose. "It better stay that way," he said after a long moment, his cold tone making Emma wince.

For a beat, everyone was silent. Emma stood frozen, unsure whether she should feel annoyed, embarrassed, or loved. She didn't need her father to handle Hook for her because she could handle him herself, thank you very much. On the other hand, having someone – her father, no less – want to handle Hook for her kind of felt … nice.

It was all so very confusing, and she didn't like it. At all.

Only after Regina left the galley, muttering something about taking her breakfast somewhere less crowded, was the spell broken. David broke eye contact with Hook as he and Snow sat down at the small table to eat. For his part, Hook raised his brows at Emma and grinned. She simply rolled her eyes.

Breakfast on a pirate ship was not all it was cracked up to be. The storm had finally hit, leaving the boat pitching and rocking in the rough water. The motion of the ship, along with the reason she was on the damn ship in the first place, left Emma's stomach rather unsettled. She remained in the galley even after her parents and Gold had left in an attempt to force herself to choke down her rations, but she ended up leaving most of her breakfast uneaten.

All she wanted to do now was change her clothes and maybe, just maybe, have a few minutes to herself. It hadn't even been a full twenty-four hours yet, and cabin fever was already setting in. Spaces on a pirate ship were small and crowded, and she wanted nothing more than to escape it all, even for a few moments. Which was why she almost groaned aloud when she saw the door to the small cabin she shared with her parents closed.

Just as she was about to give a cursory knock on the door, she heard her father's voice, harsh and sounding every bit like a man on the warpath. "I don't like the way he talks to her. I don't like the way he looks at her. Hell, I don't even like the way he breathes around her."

Well, this was certainly interesting. And kind of embarrassing. It didn't help that eavesdropping on her parents like this made Emma feel like a little kid, but she couldn't help it.

"I don't, either," Snow gently agreed. Then all at once, the placating tenor of her voice was gone as she admonished her husband. "But they're not teenagers, Charming, and we're not in our land. You can't just pull the father card on them because you don't like a boy paying attention to your daughter. Plus, it doesn't appear that she's biting, so I wouldn't–"

"She better not bite," David interrupted, his voice rising in exasperation and making Emma wince. She could hear her mother try to shush her father. Whatever she said must have worked, because he continued at a much quieter volume. "She can't bite. He's … he's Hook."

"And she's your little girl," Snow continued softly. "I understand, Charming. Believe me, I do, but you have to remember that she's a grown woman who is used to taking care of herself. She is more than capable of making her own decisions, and she won't take kindly to you butting in, even though I know – and she knows on some level, too – that you're only trying to protect her."

David heaved a sigh. "We even missed the 'you won't date until you're thirty' stage, didn't we?"

"It appears that we did," Snow replied sadly, her voice breaking.

At that point, Emma tiptoed away from the door, ignoring the lump that was forming in the back of her own throat. That was the reason children shouldn't eavesdrop on their parents … because the things they tended to say alone were the things children shouldn't hear. Good to know.

Maybe changing her clothes could wait a bit.

"You just can't get enough of me, can you, Swan?" Hook teased as Emma emerged on the deck from the forecastle entryway. He took his eyes off the water ahead of him long enough to give her a long look up and down, taking in the yoga pants and white tank top that made up her sleep attire.

"Shut up," she grumbled, barely pausing to give him the time of day. She walked across the deck and leaned her hands on the rail, the harsh wind whipping her hair into her eyes. The rain hadn't started yet but it was imminent.

Emma looked out over the churning ocean, squinting. Was that land? It was a speck, really, a dot along the horizon, but it could be land. "Hook! Where's your telescope?"

"My what?"

"Telescope? You know, that thing you people look into and shout 'Land ho!' and all that nonsense."

Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw Regina, who was for whatever reason coiling rope – er, line – and tying it off in bundles, hide a smirk.

"Oh, you mean my spyglass, love?"

"Yeah, sure. Whatever. Where is it?"

Hook simply grinned at her as he patted a strategically-placed pouch on his belt. "I'll tell you what. If you come over here and get it, I'll let you have my spyglass any time you like."

"Oh, you know what?" Emma spluttered. "Bite me, and no, that is not an invitation."

"Certainly sounds like one, darling."

Her anger level now at nuclear explosion, Emma stomped over to Regina. "Isn't there some kind of magical cold shower you could give him?"

"Unfortunately not, Miss Swan," Regina replied in an offhanded but not altogether unamused tone. "Even if there was, something tells me he would just end up enjoying it."

In the end, it was the rough seas and not Hook's incessant innuendo that drove Emma below decks. Her stomach had gone from unsettled to flip-flopping, which was when Hook instructed her to go lie down for a while. She'd started to argue, because arguing with him was pretty much second nature, but stopped when that oddly compassionate expression came across on his face. "Captain's orders," he'd said in a tone that was at the same time stern and gentle.

Although the pitching of the ship in the waves may have been less noticeable below decks, it was still noticeable. Emma practically collapsed on her bunk and squeezed her eyes shut, hoping against hope that she would be able to sleep through the worst of it.

"Emma?"

She lifted her head to find both of her parents hovering just outside the doorway. She groaned softly as she dropped her head back onto the pillow, turned onto her side, and pulled her knees to her chest. "I'm perfectly fine."

"Yes, because you look perfectly fine."

That was her father, and he sounded closer than before. She blinked an eye open to find him quietly moving around the cabin. A glance at the door revealed her mother watching her husband take care of their baby girl through concerned and wistful eyes.

David emptied out a small wooden bucket they had been using as a trash can and tucked it on the bed by Emma's feet. "Just in case you need it," he murmured.

"Thank you."

He smiled and brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes. Emma smiled back in spite of herself. Maybe she wasn't a little girl anymore, and maybe she was too old to be treated with kid gloves like this, but damn, having someone look after when she didn't feel well was actually rather nice.

"Should I be worried?"

"No," she assured him. "Apparently boats and I don't get along very well. Once the storm passes, I'm sure I'll feel much better."

"Okay." He started to tiptoe out of the room but at the door, he paused and looked back into the cabin. His eyes focused on his baby girl who, curled up on her bunk in the fetal position, looked far younger than her years. "Emma? Should I be worried about Hook?"

Emma snorted in derision. "No. Not at all."

"Okay," he said again, though this time, she could tell that he didn't quite believe her.

Another night in Neverland, another night of children's cries permeating the air. Just like the previous night, Emma tiptoed out onto the deck of the Jolly Roger and reclaimed her seat on the barrel. She wished she could tune out the sound, but she couldn't. She was too busy straining to hear one voice rising above the rest.

The thought of Henry crying for his family turned her stomach, which was still a little unsettled from earlier, but she would have given anything to hear his voice just once. "Hang on, kid," she murmured into the darkness. "We're coming for you."

"Faster now that we're sailing with the current," a soft voice said from behind her.

Emma gasped and whipped her head around to find Hook standing at the helm, keeping the Roger steady on her course. In the darkness, she hadn't even seen him. "I was hoping to surprise you with our progress in the morning," he continued. "You should be getting some rest while you can, love. Once we dock, it might be awhile before we have another chance to rest."

He had something resembling a point but with Henry out there somewhere, sleep was out of the question. He could be anywhere, experiencing anything at the hands of God knew whom. "I'll be okay," she murmured. After all, how many days on end had she stayed up when Mary Margaret Blanchard was in that damn holding cell?

Sweet Jesus, that felt like a lifetime ago.

"Suit yourself," Hook said, returning his attention to the now calm sea ahead of them.

After a long moment of listening to the agonizing wail of young voices, Emma pushed herself to her feet. She set her shoulders and approached the helm.

"Can I help you, Swan?" he asked, giving her a cursory glance.

"I can't sit there anymore and I can't sleep. I just … feel like I need to be doing something."

He regarded her for a long moment before motioning for her to join him at the wheel.

She gaped at him. "No funny business?"

"If that means what I think it means, then no," he promised with a smirk that was far gentler than his normal lecherous expression. "I'm always a gentleman, remember?"

Emma answered his smirk with one of her own. "Yeah, right." Still, she stepped up next to him and grasped the wheel where he indicated. The wood of the wheel was still warm where his hand had been.

This time, she was so engrossed in her sailing lesson that she didn't notice her father standing in the forecastle entryway, watching the two of them with his arms crossed over his chest.

Even though another pirate ship breakfast – Item Number Four, by the way – was the last thing on her mind, Emma knew she had to try. She headed to the galley while psyching herself up for another round of forcing down her rations. She expected to find one or maybe two other people in the galley when she got there, but she did not expect to find her father cornering Captain Hook.

"All I'm asking from you," David was practically ordering, "is that you don't–"

"What the hell is going on?" Emma interrupted, placing her hands on her hips because really, this was just the living end.

David spun around, not quite wiping the guilty look off his face in time. "Nothing," he stammered, turning back to glare at the pirate. "Hook and I were just coming to an understanding."

"Yes. I am apparently no longer allowed to even look at you, love," Hook grinned, running his eyes up and down Emma's body.

If it had been a cartoon, steam would have poured from her father's ears. "Hey!" he yelled, shoving Hook's chest hard.

Emma heaved a sigh and stomped out of the galley, the breakfast that she hadn't wanted in the first place forgotten. Good God, that pirate was so damn maddening. How could he be so kind to her when they were alone but then be so … Hook when people were around?

As she headed down the hall to vent to her mother, she heard her father's voice again. She'd expected him to give Hook some kind of scathing warning to leave his baby girl alone, which was why she was shocked when she heard him say in a practically pleading tone, "Just don't break her heart."

"I've no intention of breaking her heart," Hook replied just as softly.

Emma walked away just as David said, "I'm glad we understand each other."

This was altogether too much. She was on her way to Neverland with Snow White, the Evil Queen, and Rumpelstiltskin to save her son from Peter freaking Pan, and her father – Prince Charming – was trying to protect her from having her heart broken by Captain Hook.

She let out a breath through her nose and shook her head. And she'd thought hanging out with Mulan and Princess Aurora and ogres was weird. How much weirder could her life possibly get?