Description: He can’t for the life of him think why he hadn’t just kissed her senseless when he had the chance. Captain Swan post 3x17.
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It’s a wallowing sorrow that overtakes him in the evening, hateful thoughts about why he hadn’t just grabbed her and kissed her senseless when he’d had the chance. He hates that he hadn’t even tried, that being so close to her had become the norm and, yet, something as simple as a kiss had slipped through their fingertips on so many occasions. He sips at his rum, relishing in the burn of the alcohol and wishing it would hurry up and take its effect so he doesn’t have to think about everything he’s missing with Emma right now.
He can see the openness in her eyes and is starting to feel like maybe, just maybe, she’s beginning to reciprocate his love. And it kills him that it hadn’t happened sooner.
The rest of the rum slides down his throat with ease and he goes to his flask for a refill only to find the damn thing empty. He’ll regret it later, the burst of anger, but in the moment it’s his only release and so he picks up the drained glass and throws it against the nearest wall, watching as it shatters and sends shards of broken glass flying around the room. It does nothing to relieve the ache in his heart.
There’s a knock on the door and he considers just letting it go, but he knows exactly who it’ll be and knows she won’t give up until the door comes crashing down. So with great reluctance he unlocks it and lets Emma Swan walk into his room, her entire body on alert.
It shouldn’t hurt as much as it does, “Aye.” He sighs, “The rum and I had a disagreement, I’m truly fine.”