#cs f

true love grows

[A/N: just a brief little idea for Captain Charming Friday I had that @sancocnutclub made me run with. enjoy!]

Emma and Killian had always known parenthood would be an adventure. They just hadn’t expected it to go this way once they were, well, expecting. Even several months later, Emma laughed to think of that conversation with her mom that was just the start of their world turning on its head.

They’d met for lunch and been discussing their hopes of adding to their families—though in very little detail, for Emma’s sake.

“I’m a little nervous to be pregnant again,” she’d admitted. “But I know it’ll be worth it.”

“Well, there’s always the chance it’s not you,” Snow offered in a helpful tone, but it just left Emma confused.

“Uh, why wouldn’t it be me?” she asked. “Who else would it be?”

“Oh no—you don’t know,” Snow said, aghast.

“Know what?”

“When you have True Love, it’s pure chance whether the man or woman carries the baby. Literally 50-50 odds. It’s just luck that I had both you and Neal.” Then she tilted her head, confused. “I thought Killian would have told you that?”

“He would have if he knew, so I’m assuming he doesn’t,” Emma replied. “Oh—oh crap. And he’s been fighting a stomach bug lately.”

Snow just raised her eyebrows, curious.

And now, 30-some weeks later, Killian was the one on the cusp of delivering their baby (a girl!) into the world. He’d been just as shocked as she was at the revelation, having been previously ignorant of that bit of lore, but once he’d accepted it, it had been smooth sailing—though he groaned each day at the increasing size of his waistline as their baby grew. 

To add to the joy (or chaos), it turned out that David was also expecting; Emma’s new little sister was due just a couple weeks later. He’d had a few more gripes than Killian but was otherwise taking it well. 

Killian had confessed to her around the start of the third trimester that he was glad David had ended up pregnant, too; it made him feel less odd, even if their neighbors didn’t find it out of the ordinary, and he appreciated being able to share the experience with his best friend. 

The guys were constantly swapping stories and advice, while also not-so-subtly competing with each other—first to see who lasted longer in their regular clothes (David, ever the fan of forgiving cotton knits), then to see who would end up with the biggest bump (Killian, who carried it all out front). They also had each other to commiserate with when the babies wouldn’t stop kicking them at all hours of the night, or when their cravings got weird, or when they got a glance of their stretch marks in the mirror.

Killian was always a step ahead of David, though, which was good for the prince as a preview of what was to come, but meant that Killian was on his own for a few things—most dramatically, being the first to wear maternity jeans and a belly band, but most painfully, Braxton-Hicks and the day his belly finally dropped. (At least they both had their wives for those moments.)

It was odd for both the girls to be on the other side of being an expectant parent, but having been through it previously made them more adept at helping their husbands. However, they also got some giggles out of certain situations—like when Killian insisted his old tshirts still fit, exposing his belly for all the world to see, or when David attempted to milk the cows into his third trimester. The ladies also insisted on weekly pictures of the boys side-by-side; Snow already had a scrapbook going—because what were the odds of them ever being in this situation again?

So here they were—at 38 weeks for Killian and 36 for David—posing for their photos; Killian was feeling tired and over it, though looking forward to the end result, while David was still feeling great (of which Killian was both jealous and incapable of comprehending).

Killian waddled over to their sofa and collapsed on it once they were done, legs spread to let his belly rest between them, letting out a long sigh and resting his hand on the apex of his generous bump as he felt his daughter move within.

“That bad, huh?” David asked as he sat (much more gracefully) next to him; his belly still sait fairly high on his frame, but was beginning to drift lower.

“Aye,” Killian told him. “Give it a couple weeks and you’ll know.”

“I dunno,” David countered. “Even at 40 weeks, I’m not sure I’ll be that big—hey!” He was promptly punched in the arm.

“Boys? Stop it,” Snow scolded from the kitchen.

“Yeah, stop it,” Killian parroted, then stuck out his tongue.

David rolled his eyes. “Must be why that kid is so big—she’s already full of sass.”

He promptly got hit again, but then hissed with a different kind of pain and his hands rushed to his belly.

“I swear, if you go into labor before me…” Killian grumbled.

David relaxed a minute later. “No, it was a practice one,” he waved off. “There’s no way you’ll outlast me, not at that size.”

(Emma was the one to smack him upside the head that time.)

(However, he was right, but only just: it was three more hormonal weeks before Killian finally went into labor—only a few hours before David did, because why wouldn’t that happen in Storybrooke?

Both delivered healthy daughters—Alice Margaret Jones and Ruth Hope Nolan—in the wee early hours of the morning. And they eventually discovered the other perk of being pregnant at the same time: raising their babies together.)

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source: x x