NEW CHAPTER! A Trick of the Light
Chapter Twelve: Back Again
I know I know! But we're here now...
The baby bag, which had begun to feel like another family member to Emma and himself ever since they had received it as a gift from Ruby, always filled to the brim with toddler approved snacks- I think those are meant to be given to Hope, Swan- which Emma had delighted in stealing- I’ve told you, toddler snacks and Emma snacks are the same thing, babe- lay toppled at Killian’s feet, having tumbled down from where he had tossed it haphazardly before they set sail from the small harbour only moments before, and when he knelt to retrieve it, Hope teary faced and reaching for him, something crinkled from the one of the outermost pockets.
At the familiar noise, Emma sat up from her place against the wall, Hope having crawled into her lap the moment she had sunk to the floor, eyes suddenly clear as she whispered exaggeratedly slowly at him- is that a fruit snack?- as if their children wouldn't be interested in what she was saying when the word ‘snack’ was involved if she said it slowly enough.
Hope cried again, her face scrunched in annoyance hands grabbing towards him- come here, little lovie, that was scary, I know, I’m sorry- whispering a broken plea for snacks against his neck, her curls tickling the skin on his throat, her speech less pronounced, softened as it had been when she was so much younger.
Emma shuffled Liam into her vacated lap, plucking the boy gently from where he’d been laying against her thigh, happily chewing on the corner of the rug- oh, baby, no, that’s yucky- and reached into the bag, eyes wide with excitement.
A veil of memory swam before Killian’s eyes, cool and refreshing, soft around the edges as the tension which had carried them away from the curse of Camelot cleared like morning fog from a lake, a memory of Emma several months earlier, pregnant in their Storybrooke kitchen, a scowl on her lovely face.
“Can you put this somewhere?” Emma had huffed in annoyance, handing him the bag of generic brand sour soothers- they’re better than the big famous ones, babe- her third that week if he’d been keeping track properly, which, he knew, he probably hadn’t been.
“Where shall I put them, then, love?”
“Somewhere I can’t get them, I’m obsessed. It has to stop.”
He privately agreed, but two pregnancies had taught him that honesty wasn’t always the best course of action, and he took the package from her outstretched hand- you’re a pirate, you have to be good at hiding treasure- raising an eyebrow.
“I might not have to hide them, Swan…”
“What do you-” she didn’t get to finish the remainder of her question as his smile widened in mischief and he dropped the package at her feet, her belly ensuring the task of retrieving the treats nearly impossible- if you can get them, then you’ve earned them, love.
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