Of Dads and Bad Dreams
Disclaimer: I wish, but no, I don't own the characters/show.
Author's Note: Fluffiest fluff yet. Enjoy.
As expected he hasn't slept well since being awoken from that damn curse. The only thing he's found that calms him somewhat is making the rounds through their small apartment. Snow doesn't even wake up anymore when he gets up most nights. But every time he does he always makes sure to press a soft kiss to her cheek, the first reassurance that he's there, she's there, and their family is there and complete once more despite all the obstacles they've had to face. The second kiss he gives is to Henry on the boy's soft brown head, and as for Emma, he satisfies the need for physical contact with a simple touch to her blanketed shoulder.
It seems wrong to steal a kiss when she still won't let him near her most days. It is getting better, he sees her distrust of the David Nolan she remembers slowly melting away each time he puts Henry in a headlock or hugs Snow tenderly, but they rarely talk, and touch only when there's no other choice.
Putting it lightly things between them are strained, and he's at a loss as to how to close the gap. But if being a shepherd had taught him anything it's patience, so he will bide his time, and make do with what he has.
But as he approaches Emma's bed that night, the sounds of someone struggling make him freeze, and all that patience goes out the window when he rushes to her bedside. And seeing Emma in the grip of a nightmare, his mind is thrown back to just that evening when Snow had commented on the dark circles under their daughter's eyes. Emma had easily shrugged off her concern, making a crack about living up to the Charming insomniac tradition, but seeing her now only confirms Snow's fears that what Emma refused to deal with consciously was running rampant in her subconscious.
And then Emma cries out, and he's had enough. Subconscious or no Prince Charming will not stand by while his little girl is hurting. His hand grips her shoulder, giving it a sound shake, and in an instant the blonde bolts upright, chest heaving and teary eyes wildly darting.
"Hey, Emma, it' s okay," he whispers, slowly grasping her other shoulder, keeping his voice low and comforting as he would have to a scared lamb. It had worked with Henry, now he only hopes it does the same for Emma.
And finally, ever so slowly her breathing evens out, her eyes focus, and he smiles.
"That's it, slow breaths okay?"
She nods, but hasn't said a word yet, her gaze breaking from his to some horizon he can't see.
"Bad dream?" he prompts, but only gets a nod, and he sighs, moving to lift his hands before she's aware enough to question his touch.
But the moment he does, something miraculous happens. Just as his hands leave Emma's wrap around his middle, her face burrowing into the soft fabric of his t-shirt as she breathes in deeply.
If it wasn't actually happening he never would have believed it. Emma was seeking comfort, and from him of all people.
Don't blow this, Charming, he hisses to himself, ever so slowly wrapping his own arms around Emma. She doesn't move, doesn't show any sign of pulling away, if anything she only scoots closer, and he exhales the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.
He's holding his daughter, his little girl, and what's more she's hugging him back. He would never admit it aloud, but in a way he'd been slightly envious of the time Snow had had to be one on one with Emma in their old world. They had both emerged with a much stronger bond then when they'd left, even cracking jokes and smiling at each other, and while the sight had warmed him it also made him aware of the relationship he didn't have with Emma. And maybe, just maybe, tonight that would start changing. He could only dare to hope it was so.
"It's okay, I've got you," he hears himself whisper, instinctually starting to rock back and forth, one hand rubbing soothing circles on her back.
"I'm here, I've got you," he continues, only stopping when amazingly he hears Emma's breathing slow and her arms go slack. One glance down tells him she's indeed fallen back asleep, though if she's truly been awake at all through the entire ordeal is up for grabs. But either way, he'd been able to be there for her, to bond, even for a little while, and the feeling warms him inside and out.
"Daddy's got you," he whispers one final time, raising a hand to brace her head as he would a baby before slowly lowering her back to the bed. She never wakes, and when he pulls the covers back up to tuck her in he's faced with a familiar dilemma. Did he dare press his luck?
Fortune favors the bold, he remembers reading from David's past, and with an efficiency of movement known only to a soldier does he sweep down and press a kiss to Emma's forehead.
Her brow scrunches like he knows his does at the touch, but only for a moment before she falls even deeper into sleep.
And while he could watch over her all night, he forces himself to say good night with one last touch to her blonde head before getting up and turning to leave. But when he does, he encounters a spy, a beautiful spy with black hair and green eyes who's smiling at him for all she's worth.
"You were taking a while coming back to bed and I was concerned," she tries to cover, but she knows that he knows she's been watching for a while.
"I see," he smiles back, reaching to wrap an arm around Snow's waist, his hand finding its familiar spot just there between her hip and rip cage. He's made such a move a million times, but each time he's amazed at how well he fits, at how well they fit. It reaffirms his belief that no matter the odds, they and their family are meant to be.
As if in agreement Snow leans in, resting her head on his shoulder just below his chin, and he presses a kiss to her upturned lips before moving to escort them both back to bed. But as he does, he steals one last glance at his slumbering daughter, resting peacefully, and smiles.
"Goodnight, Emma."