For the Tumblr prompt "Liam, Emma and Killian in the same place."
Just a spot of fluffy angst (flangst?) post 5b that we won't get, but hey, a girl can dream. Title from Arcade Fire's 'The Suburbs'.
The loft wasn't really built for this many people. The windows have steamed up from Snow's furious overuse of the kettle, the air is a little bit damp and slightly muggy and there's the slight whiff of unwashed bodies and Neal's diaper that has seen better days.
It's warm, and familiar, and safe, and Emma has never been more grateful to be anywhere in her life.
She's sitting on the counter, surrounded by half drunk hot beverages and her mother's flustered attempts to tidy up as she goes, kicking her bare heels against the cupboard door. It's a good little vantage point. She can see Regina sitting on the stairs leaning back into the lap of Robin who sits a step or two above her. David is ferreting around for a clean diaper, Neal tucked securely under his arm with his little legs kicking merrily. Henry lies sprawled over the floor, totally unconcerned for the amount of space he's taking up with his long legs and inconvenient elbows, his book open in front of him as he teaches Roland to spell his own name. Belle is tucked into one corner of the couch, still a little pale and quiet, but she balances her teacup delicately on its saucer and manages a small smile at the small pink bundle swaddled and sleeping next to her. Baby Hope wriggles in her sleep, one fat little fist escaping from her blanket only to be shoved unceremoniously in her mouth.
It's almost perfect, all the people she loves and cares for safe and breathing within these four walls. It's almost enough to stop the way her heart drums just a little too hard in time with her feet, to prevent her eyes returning time and again to the balcony above Robin's head. Almost, but not quite.
Giving each other space is good for a relationship. Healthy. Sensible. She shouldn't need to be within touching distance of him at all time. She's an independent woman. It's not normal.
But then nor is dying three times in three months, and frankly Emma has never had much luck with normality. Plus, after all, it is her heart up there.
She slides to her feet, grateful for the soft strength of her mother's hand on her back as she heads for the stairs. Regina and Robin shuffle over so that she can pass without a word, though she catches the understanding in Regina's dark eyes and the way her fingers tighten around Robin's.
She pauses at the top, eyes flickering greedily over Killian where he lies fast asleep, half propped up against her old bed. His long legs are spread out in front of him, his untouched coffee between his knees, and she watches the way his chest rises and falls like a mother with a sickly new-born.
"You may enter, your highness. I don't bite."
Liam smiles up at her from his position slumped on Killian's left side, but it's a bit sloppy and the fingers dangling Killian's flask towards her are loose and a little shaky. Emma's not the only one afraid to leave Killian's side, after all.
"Anything left in there?" she half whispers as she drops down on Killian's right.
Liam shakes the flask and shrugs, "Not a lot, no."
"It'll do I suppose," she sighs, taking it and downing the rather pathetic dregs in one gulp, "you don't have to call me your highness you know."
Liam gives her what she's already decided is the 'Jones Eyebrow', "Well you don't drink like many princesses of my acquaintance, I'll give you that."
"Yeah well, I got cursed before I managed finishing school, so."
Liam shrugs one shoulder in a 'fair enough' gesture, and for a couple of minutes they sit in comfortable silence listening to Killian's light snores and occasional bursts of conversation from downstairs. Emma snuggles closer into his side, unable to resist the urge now she's so close, until eventually she's resting her head on his shoulder. Liam smiles weakly at her, his fingers drumming on the floor next to Killian's hook.
"I should apologise, Emma. I imagine you find me quite ridiculous."
Emma furrows her brow, lifting her head so that she can see the way that Liam is awkwardly shuffling away to put more space between him and his brother.
"No?" she says, "Why would I do that?"
Liam waves a hand over her and Killian, "You defeated the Lord of the Dead to bring back your One True Love, and I have sequestered him away from you in order to get drunk and watch him sleep."
"Well," Emma huffs lightly, "when you put it like that it does make it sound a little creepy."
Liam nods, as if in understanding, and goes to stand up.
"Hey!" she reaches across Killian making him grumble incoherently and grabs hold of Liam's hand before he can go anywhere, "I was just joking, Liam. You don't have to go anywhere. You're exactly where you should be."
There's the eyebrow again, "On a Princess's bedroom floor?"
Emma rolls her eyes, "No, idiot. By his side." She tugs on Liam's hand until his eyes meet hers, "I love him, okay? I love him so much I don't even know how to deal with it most days. But I do know that you love him too, just as much."
"Aye," Liam breathes, "that I do."
"So we're a team then, okay? You and me. We're Killian's team. He needs us, and- and we- we need him. If I've learnt anything since I came to this crazy town it's that there's no such thing as too many people to love you."
Liam smiles, brighter this time, and shakes her hand with infinite gentleness, "We have an accord, your highness."
Emma snuggles back into Killian's shoulder, "Good. Now never tell him about this conversation or his head will swell up so much he won't be able to get in the door."
Liam snorts, and shuffles back over, slinging his arm over both Killian and Emma's shoulders as he does so.
"Bit late for that, no?"
When Snow creeps upstairs to check on them half an hour later with hot drinks in hand they're asleep, and it's Killian who lifts a finger to his lips with a head resting on each shoulder.
"Everything okay?" Snow whispers, the fear of the Underworld still curling around the edges of her words.
"Never better," he says, and means it.