#and don't even get me started on all the good adult!henry ideas devon has for this verse

[welllpthisishappening]

It admittedly wasn’t one of his better ideas. 

But these were definitely the best cheeseburgers in the city and there was a view and so Henry didn’t really allow himself to think much about it. Before he was calling to make a reservation. At The Jolly Roger. 

For his first date with Ella. 

He just...didn’t tell anyone else. 

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Rating: Like the lowest of low teen if only for some first-date jitters-induced swearing Word Count: 4.5K  AN: A couple days ago I was answering asks from one of those writing memes and @shireness-says​ gave me a number that required me to headcanon something. Well, I responded here and basically said that in Out of the Frying Pan, on their first date, Henry brought Ella to The Jolly Roger. He just didn’t bother telling anyone because, well, it’s kind of a lot to bring a girl to your family’s restaurant on the first date, but the food is good and there should be good food on a first date. Cue a bit of inspiration yesterday and we’ve got a bunch of words, Will being super unhelpful, and Killian being peak dad. Thanks to Devon for taking my “give me a random Once character who could be a waitress” demand in stride. 

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Will noticed him first. 

That wasn’t all that surprising, not really. Especially not when Henry was certain his heart was going to pound out of his chest, a mix of nerves and excitement and a few more nerves because taking a girl he genuinely liked to The Jolly Roger wasn’t one of his more well-thought out plans. 

But he also kind of wanted a cheeseburger. 

And these were the best cheeseburgers in the city. 

Maybe the Tri-State area. 

He figured Ella would like cheeseburgers. Everyone liked cheeseburgers, right? God, he hoped she liked cheeseburgers. 

He probably should have asked.

He’d admittedly been a little preoccupied. 

Will was very clearly texting someone. Henry hoped it wasn’t his mom. 

And no one had said anything when Henry made the reservation — two days earlier and still a little out of breath while Ella’s yeah that sounds nice ricocheted off every corner of his brain. Ariel had long left the hostess stand in Brooklyn, once she and Eric opened their own seafood place in NOHO, but the new girl was nice and Henry was vaguely confident her name was Merida. She’d asked all the usual questions; date, time, number of people and...name. 

So he’d lied. 

Henry Locksley, he’d said, certain neither Robin nor Regina would be that upset if he borrowed their last name for a few hours, and Roland would only think the whole thing was hysterical, but he also admittedly hadn’t even thought about what he’d do when he had to talk to Merida face to face and Ella knew his name, his real name, and this was already proving to be something of an unmitigated disaster. 

Will was still staring at him from behind the bar. 

With his jaw halfway to the floor. 

“Locksley,” Henry said, not for the first time. “Yup, yeah, that’s—that’s us. Two. Two of us.” Merida hummed, scrolling across a screen Henry would have to ask Killian about. He had no idea they’d gotten that, hadn’t been to the Jolly in Brooklyn in months, which was why he thought this would be better than any other options and seriously he just wanted cheeseburgers. 

With a girl he really liked. 

Will hadn’t blinked in days, though, shoulders shaking slightly when his phone buzzed. Presumably. Henry didn’t have supersonic hearing. 

Just the ability to glare — quickly and, he hoped, covertly, gritting his teeth when Will actually had the gall to laugh loudly. His whole body shook. Henry jerked his hand in front of him, some attempt at miming that he was certain failed spectacularly as soon as Will held his arm in front of him. 

So he could take a picture. 

Or so Henry assumed. 

He sighed. 

“Everything ok?” Ella asked, Henry’s answering nod nothing more than a quick shift of his head that nearly resulted in his chin colliding with his chest. She narrowed her eyes. 

“Fine,” he said. ‘Why wouldn’t it be fine?” “I asked first.” He let out a shaky laugh, another nod that wasn’t doing much to help the overall state of a variety of his internal organs and maybe Will could actually flash lasers from his eyes. It felt that way, at least, a stare that bored its way into the back of Henry’s head and he almost didn’t even notice Merida walking or grabbing menus, tripping over his feet and laughing a bit more and it would be fine, it would be fine, it would be fine, so long as—

“Oh shit,” Henry breathed. 

Ella stopped half a foot away from the table, eyes widening with even more entirely reasonable questions and he really hoped she liked cheeseburgers. 

And Henry didn’t move, even when Merida placed the menus down on the table. In the middle of the dining room, surrounded by other diners and a few other couples who also looked like they were on dates and...a clearly bemused, desperately trying not to laugh, Killian Jones. 

Wearing a chef’s jacket. 

Which really just seemed unfairly ridiculous, all things considered. 

“Damnit,” Henry mumbled, wavering for a moment before he flashed a smile at Merida. He hoped he didn’t look too psychotic. “You, uh—any chance we could get a table by the water?” “There’s water?” Ella asked. 

“Did I not mention that?” She shook her head. “You said you knew a place that had good food. And I wouldn’t mind the drive out here. Nothing about a view.”

“Wow, really undersold it, didn’t I?”

“I wasn’t really banking my decision on the potential of a view. Especially when I figured we’d stay in one borough.” Henry shrugged, doing his absolute best not to glance in Killian’s direction. There was absolutely no way that he could hear them — not over the rest of the soft conversations around them or the ringing phone at the hostess stand Merida hadn’t gone back to yet, but Henry knew he was smiling as well and Will was absolutely still staring. 

And texting mom. 

There was no way he wasn’t. 

“Ah, well,” Henry grinned, “I like to try and keep people guessing.” “You think this is working for you?” “You tell me.”

Ella’s laugh soared out of her, louder than the conversations or Will’s phone, even from a few feet away, a sound that Henry, rather quickly decided, he was going to hear as many times as possible in the next few hours. 

If not longer. 

They weren’t that far from Park Slope. There was good coffee in Park Slope. A few bakeries. Maybe gelato. 

Killian wouldn’t mind if they went to Park Slope for gelato. Will, on the other hand. Maybe. Or mom...and especially Belle. Who wrote the recipe for the cheesecake the pastry chef made every Thursday night before the weekend rush. 

“Did you guys want to move, or…” Merida muttered, and Henry had almost forgotten they’d never sat down. 

Neither Henry nor Ella answered. Not a good first-date moment, but neither was showing up at his family’s restaurant that he hadn’t told her was his family’s restaurant, so Henry didn’t bother thinking before he turned, ignoring the stab of pain in his neck when he met Killian’s eyes. 

And he didn’t do much, not really. Just lifted his hand and pointed a finger towards the row of windows in the back of the dining room, an empty table in the corner. 

Henry exhaled. 

He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath. 

“If that works?” Henry asked, nodding in the same direction Killian had pointed. Tugging some other screen that was far more high tech than Henry anticipated out of her back pocket, Merida clicked her tongue, once, twice, before—

“Yeah, of course,” she said. “Right this way.”

Henry’s feet continued to have minds of their own, walking too quickly and nearly stepping on the heel of Ella’s shoes in the process, but then his hand found the small of her back and she didn’t say anything, didn’t even tense, which must have been at least a few points in whatever date-scoring system they were working with. 

He resolutely refused to look behind him anymore. 

“Good?” Merida asked, dropping the menus again as Ella nodded enthusiastically. Henry hooked his foot around the other chair, all instinct and familiarity and he didn’t realize Ella’s brows had pinched until he looked up.

He blinked. “What?”

“I’ve never seen anyone pull out a chair like that.” “I don’t—was that weird?” “Maybe not if you live here.” Whatever sound he made was not a laugh. Might not have been human, really, scratching its way out of his throat and between barely parted lips that were starting to dry out a little. Probably from breathing like a psychopath. 

“Who would live at a restaurant?” he mumbled, nearly knocking over the empty water glass in an attempt to grab a menu he could have recited by heart. 

“I wasn’t necessarily speaking literally.” “Right, right, right, yeah that’s—” “—Are you really sure you’re ok?”

“Fine,” Henry said, far too quickly. Impressive since the world was four letters. “Do I seem less-than fine?” “You seem a little nervous,” Ella reasoned. “Which—I mean, first dates and all that, but I thought this was good and—” “—It is good.” Interrupting was probably a few docks on his overall point total. 

But those words didn’t shake and weren’t said at a questionable speed, one way or another, just even and honest and Henry liked Ella. Like liked Ella. He didn’t think Killian would be in Brooklyn.

“Yeah?” Ella asked softly. 

Henry grinned. “Yeah. And these are the best cheeseburgers in at least the six closest states to New York.” “Does that include Delaware?” “What?” “I ate a really good cheeseburger at some roadside stand in Delaware once. On the way to the beach when I was a kid.” “That’s very specific,” Henry admitted. More nerves erupted in the pit of his stomach, suddenly a little terrified that The Jolly wouldn’t stand up to a roadside stand in the middle of goddamn Delaware, but then Ella smiled and the lights reflected off the river and Henry’s shoulders dropped. With relief, or something. 

“You’re making fun of me,” he accused. 

She shook her head. “No, no, no, I wouldn’t do that. I’m having a really serious conversation about cheeseburgers with someone who appears to be an expert.” “Ah, I wouldn’t say that.” “How many states away is Delaware?” “I honestly have no idea.” “That’s actually kind of disappointing. These were your rules, after all.”

“Seafood country, right?” Henry asked, dimly aware that Killian had gone behind the bar. To talk to Will. And mom. Inevitably. “Delaware has like—I don’t know, clams or something.” “You’re really hating on Delaware, aren’t you?”

“I’ve never been to Delaware. We were Maine beach people.” “Maine beach people,” Ella echoed, slowly enough that every letter felt like its own joke. 

Henry hummed. “Didn’t happen often, because my parent’s work schedule was always nuts, but my mom grew up in Maine. We used to go visit my grandmother and my dad, he—” 

Footsteps stopped abruptly in front of their table, a soft hiss of regret from the waitress when she realized she’d interrupted and—

“I’m so sorry. Just wanted to see if you guys were interested in any drinks, or—oh, hey Henry!”

In some other point-based competition where he wasn’t on a first-date and trying to impress Ella or reminisce about childhood trips to the beach where Killian always managed to get mom in the water when no one else could, Henry would award himself first-place and several trophies for managing not to pinch the bridge of his own nose as soon as Ashley said his name. 

“I didn’t know you were going to be here,” she continued. “Does your—”

“Drinks,” Henry cut in, quickly and efficiently eliminating any flirting-type progress. 

To her credit, Ashley didn’t do much more than blink in a few prolonged seconds of confusion, before mumbling a quiet oh, sticking her lower lip out when she nodded and suggested several specialities from the bar. 

“You’re in luck,” she added, “Will’s here tonight, and he’s won awards for mixology and some of his drinks are the best in the city. He’s not here very often, so I’m sure he’ll be happy to make whatever you guys are interested in.”

She cast a meaningful glance in Henry’s direction, his hands fisted at his side now. Ella’s eyebrows were never going to recover. “And he just happened to be here tonight, huh?” Henry grumbled. 

Ashley smiled brightly. “Certainly seems that way, doesn't it? Were you interested in hearing any of our specials?” “Nah, I think we’re good to order, right, Henry?” Ella asked. This was, hands-down, the dumbest thing he’d ever done. And once he’d broken the lock on their front door trying to sneak in after curfew. Killian and mom had argued for ten minutes about who got to teach him to pick locks after that. It was a matter of principle, they said. 

Ryan was the best lock-picker in the family. 

Henry hoped no one texted Ryan about this. She’d never let him live it down. 

“What can I get you?” Ashley asked. 

“Cheeseburgers,” Henry replied. “Just—two cheeseburgers.” 

And strictly speaking, it was almost silly to regret the words as soon as they were out of his mouth, but it was also kind of a dick move to order for his date and Ashley was doing a terrible job of turning whatever noise she was making into something that didn’t resemble a cackle. 

“Shit,” he mumbled again, trying to force his apology onto his face when he looked at Ella. Who had tugged her lips behind her teeth. 

Killian had gone back into the kitchen. 

“Sorry,” Henry stammered. “That was, I know you can order for yourself and—” “—Do we get fries with that?” Ella asked, ignoring him completely. Definitely not points, but not a detraction either, so Henry would take it. 

Ashley nodded. “Regular, sweet, onion rings.” “Sweet potato is great.” “Cool and then that’s onion rings for Henry and—oh.” Maybe he’d just slide down the chair, onto the floor and directly into the Gowanus Canal. It would have been better than whatever Ashley did as soon as she realized what she’d said, color rising in her cheeks and despair landing in Henry’s gut. 

Loudly. 

As if an emotion could do that. 

“Onion rings,” he said, neither an agreement nor an order really, but Ashley was already retreating and he couldn’t really blame her. 

Ella waited exactly fourteen seconds before talking. 

That was nice. 

“So,” she drawled, “you’ve been here before, huh?” “Couple times.” “Do you order the same thing every time?” “Usually, yeah.” “Huh.” “Huh?” Henry echoed. “People like things, right?”

“And you apparently like onion rings.”

There was no way to miss the less-than-soft edge to her voice, another question that might have been closer to an accusation and Henry honestly did not have anyone to blame for any of this. Except himself. 

And maybe Will. 

If he didn’t make good drinks. 

“Oh, no, no, no,” Henry said quickly, understanding rippling up his spine. “Ashley and I aren’t—no, that’s not—” “—You mean you haven’t talked to the waitress a couple of times before?” “Well, yeah, but that’s because I’ve been here a couple of times. But not because—I know her husband and she’s got a really cute kid. Ask her about it, I’m sure she’ll be more than happy to show you the several thousand pictures on her phone.”

That got him a laugh. 

And maybe a few points. 

“Kind of obnoxious to get jealous of the waitress on a first date, isn’t it?” Ella asked. 

“Nah, I think that’s a compliment for me.” “I wouldn’t go that far. What is it about the onion rings that makes them so obviously your favorite, then?” “Oh, well my da—” Henry nearly choked on his tongue, sputtering and trying to catch his breath, eyes watering when he wasn’t getting proper oxygen. “The, uh, the chef here,” he corrected, “he likes to double fry ‘em. You know, flash fry first, then re-batter them, gets them ridiculously crispy. Plus, the aioli sauce he makes? Otherworldly.” “High praise.” “They sell it. Like in supermarkets and cooking stores and stuff.” “Is the chef Paul Newman?” Henry barked out a laugh, any sense of frustration or worry forgotten for a moment. “God, we better hope he didn’t hear that. His ego would never recover.” “So, you know the chef too?” The moment ended. 

“Something like that,” Henry answered evasively. “So how often were you going to Delaware?” Shifting the conversation, he realized was the right choice. Henry only noticed Will a few more times, one quick hand wave that he was fairly certain he was able to turn into a tug of his hair, even if it wasn’t perfectly coordinated, and Killian really had retreated back to the kitchen because the restaurant was packed. 

Henry didn’t think too much about Killian for the next twenty-six minutes. 

Give or take. 

Instead, they ordered appetizers and talked about Delaware and beaches, family vacations and childhood memories, anecdotes about high school and college, slightly embarrassing stories that also made them look endearing and Ashley didn’t call him by his name when she brought the drinks. 

Or the cheeseburgers. 

“Oh fuck,” Ella mumbled, having to bring her hand to her mouth after an especially impressive bite. “That’s delicious.” “See,” Henry said. “Told you.” “Not a great first-date look, either.” “True, but if there’s one thing I am confident about, it’s my knowledge of good food in this city.” “Yeah?” “Yeah,” he parroted. “It’s a thing.” Ella tilted her head, another bite of cheeseburger and more than a few sweet potato fries dipped in a sauce Henry hadn’t had before. He’d have to ask Killian about that later, much later, after the desert and Park Slope and he was just about to ask Ashley for another drink, when—

“Shit,” he grumbled. Again. Third time was the charm or something. 

Because Ashley really was a very good waitress and had a general idea of how much Henry enjoyed that punch thing Will made, only she’d make fun of him for calling it that punch thing, and Will was crossing the dining room with two glasses in one hand. 

And a far too wide smile on his face. 

Henry moved his hand again, trying to slash across his throat without the whole night dissolving into macabre nonsense, but Will didn’t get the message or ignored the message and it was definitely the second thing.

“You’re going to dislocate something,” Ella mused. “What’s happening right now?” Henry didn’t stop. Neither did Will. “Nothing, nothing, this is—”

“Hey, kids,” Will said as soon as he was in front of the table, all energy and a hint of sarcasm. Melting into the Gowanus Canal was suddenly very appealing again. “Figured you could use another round. On the house.” “Huh,” Ella said. “Wow, that’s really nice.” “Isn’t it?” “Ok, thanks,” Henry muttered. 

Will slide the glasses across the table. “House speciality, you know. Rum punch. Very popular. Lots of magazine coverage. Mentioned on the Food Network. I think they made it on Iron Chef, a couple of times.” “They made your drink recipe on Iron Chef?” Ella asked. Henry’s spine didn’t appreciate how slumped he was in his chair.

Will nodded seriously. “Stole it right out from under us. Rude, don’t you think?” “Honestly.” “What do you think?” he pressed, stepping on Henry’s shoe under the table. “Don’t you think we should have gotten recompense or something?” “In the realm of that, yeah,” Henry agreed. 

“Maybe you should write a petition.” “To the Network?” “Or the chef who stole it.” “Oh my God,” Henry murmured, Will’s tongue finding the corner of his mouth when he grinned like a variety of literary cats. Ella looked confused. 

“Do you know who he’s talking about, Henry?” “I’ve got a vague idea.”

“Is this because of the food stuff?” Henry briefly allowed himself to be grateful Will had already put the glasses down before being entirely annoyed by his uncle, quasi-family member, whatever for laughing uproariously. Head thrown back and everything. 

More than one person stared openly at him. 

“Food thing,” Will chuckled. “Yeah, this might be because of the food thing.”

“Alright, well, thanks for the drinks,” Henry snapped. “We can totally pay for them if you want.” Will stopped laughing, shaking his head in what might have been disappointment and Henry hoped Killian wasn’t mad. Or disappointed. That was worse. “Nah, it’s fine,” Will promised. “Trust me, a gift of the house.” “Yeah?” “You bet.” “Ok, well—” “—Thank you,” Ella finished, a quick wink from Will before he was moving back towards the bar and Henry’s head was on a swivel. Nothing. No Killian. No chef’s jacket. No...anything. 

Both he and Ella ate all of their cheeseburgers. 

And, really, for as bad as it all could have gone after that, it was anything but. He still liked Ella and liked talking to Ella and they did just that, even when Ashley dropped the check on the table, tapping a knowing finger on the top. 

“Thanks for coming,” she said, eyeing Henry for another second. 

“Is that code?” Ella asked once Ashley was gone, but Henry didn’t do much more than shake his head, flipping the thing open to find the check upside down and he would have been able to notice that handwriting anywhere.

You need to learn the fine art of covert operations. Merida’s got cheesecake in a to-go back up there. Mom said you guys looked good in the picture Will sent her. Not me. Leave Ashley a good tip. 

Henry huffed out a breath, running his fingers through his hair. Not because he was trying to send any sort of sign, rather because he’d grown up with Killian and some things were bound to stick and—

“I’ll be right back.”

He didn’t run, so that was something. And nothing else. He might have walked briskly, pushing open the kitchen doors to find both Killian and Will standing in the corner. The phone in Will’s hand was buzzing. 

“Obviously I’m going to leave Ashley a good tip,” Henry announced. Killian arched an eyebrow.

“You’re not supposed to be back here.” “Yeah, when’s that ever mattered?” “Fair,” he admitted. “Did the date like the burgers?” “The date’s name is Ella and yeah, of course she liked the burgers. That’s why we came here.” 

“Right, right,” Killian said, grabbing a knife so he could dice something without looking. Henry crossed his arms. “No, no, kid, you don’t get to go defensive stance on me. Not when you used the wrong name and did you honestly think anyone would see Henry Locksley and not immediately realize what was going on?” “Ashley didn’t know.” “Ashley is not the hostess of this restaurant. Or the owner.” “Should I be offended you only came here for the burgers?” Will quipped. “Because that kind of hurts my feelings.” Henry scowled, not disentangling his arms. “This is the best food—and drinks,” he added quickly, “that I know of. I’m not going to go somewhere else, unless I go to Ari’s, but seafood is—” “—Gross?” Will suggested. “I’m going to tell her you said that.” “She said your date was pretty.” “Oh my God.” “So, this is actually a compliment, huh?” Killian asked. “Because we’ve got better food, but you wanted to lie about your name?” “I can’t take a girl to my family’s restaurant on a first date, that’s insane.” “Yeah, we’ve avoided insane completely.” “I didn’t think you were going to be here!” “At my restaurant?” “Mom said you guys weren’t coming out here that much anymore,” Henry cried. “Why are you here right now?” Killian laughed. Henry didn’t expect that. And the knife clanged softly when he dropped it, walking the few steps between them so he could clap Henry on the shoulder like he was sixteen and breaking curfew again. 

“This is your first date?” Henry nodded. 

“We probably should have figured that out, huh?” Killian glanced at a laughing-again Will, only to get a shrug in response. 

“He did keep doing the patented Jones-hair tug of nerves, so maybe this is our fault.” “Emma didn’t realize either, though.” “I hadn’t really talked about Ella to anyone, honestly,” Henry confessed. “This is—I like her. And I didn’t want to jinx it and it’s good food.” “Definitely sounds like a compliment, Cap,” Will said. 

Killian squeezed Henry’s shoulder. “I wasn’t kidding about the cheesecake. Belle would be really upset if you didn’t give Ella cheesecake.” “So long as she’s not lactose intolerant,” Will added. 

“Nah, she got cheese on her burger.” Henry blinked. Once, twice. More realization rattled around his brain and possibly his heart, the tips of Killian’s ears going slightly red. A tell. Much like his hair thing. 

“Did you make the burgers?” “C’mon, I thought we weren’t going to be insulting,” Killian said. 

Henry really needed to breathe better. His sigh wasn’t that either, was more understanding and appreciation and Killian grunted slightly when his arms darted out, a quick hug and mumbled thanks—“Tell Mom and Belle and Ari and whoever else you texted that it was a good first date, hopefully.”

“Hopefully,” Killian repeated. “Better go before this starts to get weird.” And he didn’t run again — followed at least some of the rules of an active kitchen, but any extra oxygen he’d been holding onto disappeared as soon as Henry realized Ella was reading the check. The back of the check. 

“You want to tell me the truth now?” she asked. “Why do you know the waitress? And the bartender? You know the chef too. That’s what you said, right? Did you just go in the kitchen? Is that allowed?” “In order of question. Honestly because I come here a lot. I do know the bartender, though he might be annoyed by that title. And yes to the chef too, probably way better than you’re guessing.” Nothing he’d said had really been right in a date-type setting, so Henry’s wasn’t all that surprised that he managed to botch that up a bit as well, the answer far longer than he planned on it being.  

Ella smiled. 

“I didn’t know I was guessing.” “This is my parent’s restaurant.” Her mouth fell open. Several times. Rather quickly. It was impressive, actually. “What?” “Yuh huh,” Henry said slowly. “And, uh—that Iron Chef my Uncle Will was—” “—That’s your uncle?” “Technically speaking. It’s—ok, everything I’ve said has been totally true. This place has the best burgers anywhere, like maybe the continental United States, really, and I sat down like I did because I helped pick out these chairs when they renovated while I was in college and—” Henry took a deep breath. “My dad is the Iron Chef. And the chef here, actually. He owns this restaurant and the original one with my mom. Original doesn’t have a view though and I’m pretty positive the drawings my sister made when she was a kid are still hanging in the hallway, so I figured this was better.” Silence. 

As much silence as a packed restaurant could allow. 

Steeling himself for the fallout, Henry tried not to get impatient or worried, but then Ella was laughing and still smiling and she slid the check back towards him. 

“Will I get to meet the chef, eventually? Is your mom a chef too?” “Emma Swan-Jones? She had—” “—That TV show?” “That’s her.” “Shit, you’re famous.” “My parents are marginally famous, cook really well and yeah, if you want to go out again sometime you can definitely meet the chefs. Both of them.”

“Well I am pretty interested in this artwork,” Ella said. “And then we wouldn’t have to leave the city either.” “That’s true.” “So, uh—” “—It’s a date,” Henry said. “You want to get the cheesecake first, though?” “This whole thing is a bust if we don’t get cheesecake.”

He nodded, stuffing bills that were far more than twenty-percent in the folder, and Ella’s hand was warm when it found his on their walk back to the hostess stand. There were four pieces of cheesecake in the bag. 

And it did take a few more dates before Ella met everyone, but Killian made her a bottle of her own aioli to take home and Roland only made fun of stealing his name for ten minutes, so Henry was fairly positive he’d won. 

#cs ff #captain swan #cs fic #captain swan ff #captain swan fic #listen--i just got a lot of feelings about parents having solid relationships with their grown up kids #where they can talk and tease and interact like real humans #and don't even get me started on all the good adult!henry ideas devon has for this verse #because they're real good #what if i only wrote sequels to verses that are almost questionably long??