Title: The Best Day
Summary: Emma and Charming spending the day together meant that Snow and Henry could have their first – and hopefully not their last – Grandmother and Grandson Day.
Spoilers: Let's say everything up to 2x11, "The Outsider."
Rating/Warning: K+, for brief language. Family fluff.
Characters: Snow and Henry, with guest appearances by Emma and Charming.
Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time and its characters were created by Eddie Kitsis and Adam Horowitz and are owned by ABC. I don't know what it is about their characters, but I do so adore playing with them.
Author's Note: Mere-Brennan asked for a Snow and Henry story, and I was happy to oblige! These two are really fun together, by the way, as you can probably tell by the length of this thing, and the setup for this story also gave me an idea for an Emma/Charming companion piece, if there's interest. Feedback is a happy! Enjoy. :)

Let it never be said that Snow White did not know how to defuse a potentially dangerous situation.

Although David had acted as sheriff in Emma's absence, he had, much to his daughter's immense dismay, let the paperwork fall by the wayside. Paperwork was just a step above cleaning the bathroom on Emma's list of fun things to do, so to say she was not looking forward to spending a Saturday playing catchup was a severe understatement.

It was Snow's idea for Charming to go with her and help, considering he was the one who'd let the paperwork fall behind in the first place. Emma had looked annoyed at the suggestion while Charming had appeared a comical combination of hopeful and stricken. Regardless, they'd both gone off to the station after breakfast, squabbling their way out the door. It was Snow's hope that the one-on-one time would do them some good, but she'd consider her little plan a success as long as they both survived the day.

Emma and Charming spending the day together meant that Snow and Henry could have their first – and hopefully not their last – Grandmother and Grandson Day.

As excited as she was to spend some one-on-one time with her grandson, it was a bit harder than Snow had anticipated to watch Emma walk out the apartment door. A little voice in the back of Snow's mind actually screamed at her to not let her baby out of her sight ever again but a reminder that David deserved some alone time with his daughter silenced it. Between all the time she had spent with Emma as Mary Margaret and all those long weeks trapped in the Enchanted Forest, Snow had severely monopolized their daughter's time. Through no fault of her own, of course, but it still wasn't fair to Charming.

So she sucked up her separation anxiety and instead channeled that energy into spoiling her grandson, as any self-respecting grandmother should. Loving Henry came quite easily to Snow. Even as Mary Margaret, she had felt drawn to him. She had paid him special attention and had felt an indescribable and at the time quite confusing connection with him. Discovering that he was her grandson simply made all of those feelings make sense.

And Henry … despite being raised by the Evil Queen, he had the most wonderful tendency to love quickly and to love with all his heart.

It's funny, Snow thought as she gazed at him across the table. They both were raised, at least in part, by Regina. Maybe that was why their connection seemed so easy. Maybe their shared experiences, even if neither of them had spoken of them to each other, bonded them on a level beyond words.

Once he realized this day would be all about him, Henry had asked if they could go out for ice cream. It didn't matter that it was a not-exactly-balmy forty-nine degrees outside, nor did it matter that he'd eaten breakfast all of two hours prior. If Henry wanted ice cream at ten in the morning, Snow was more than willing to get him ice cream at ten in the morning.

So here they sat at Granny's, digging into hot fudge sundaes while most everyone around them was still ordering breakfast.

"You know what's really going to stink?" Henry asked as he spooned some whipped cream into his mouth.

"What's that?" Snow smiled.

"If I'm living with my teacher, I can't get away with not doing my homework anymore."

At that, Snow swallowed a laugh. She hadn't made the decision whether or not to go back to teaching, but from what she remembered as Mary Margaret, Henry had never once missed a homework assignment. He flew through his classwork, so she had no doubt in her mind that homework was nothing more than a minor annoyance that delayed playtime by a few minutes for him. "You always do your homework," she reminded him as she dug the spoon into her ice cream.

"Well, yeah, but I had the option before, you know?" He gave a halfhearted shrug, his attention mostly on catching the hot fudge that was about to dribble over the edge of his dish. "I could have told my mom that I didn't have any homework that night if I wanted. I mean, I didn't, but I could have. Now I can't use that excuse because you could tell Mom what our homework was."

Snow's eyes sparkled in amusement at the boy's disappointment over losing the possibility of playing hooky. "That is going to stink."

"So you're not even going to help me out a little bit?" he asked, looking up at her with a mischievous smile. "You won't cover for me if I ever tell her I don't have homework?"

She thought it over for a moment, trying to figure out a proper balance between hovering and allowing Henry some freedom to make his own decisions. "How about we compromise? I won't volunteer information about your homework assignments, but if she asks me point blank, I won't lie to her. Does that work?"

"Sure," Henry grinned. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," she said as she swallowed another chuckle. She had a funny feeling she would never have to use that compromise. Henry was the type of student who would feel guilty for not doing his homework. "So what else do you want to do today?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Do you think you could maybe teach me how to shoot arrows?"

Snow's eyebrows shot to the ceiling. "Why do you want me to teach you to shoot arrows?"

"Mom told me about how you shot the ogre in the Enchanted Forest. She said you're …" He had been smiling but the smile faltered as his face blanched. "I really shouldn't say it."

Well, Snow's curiosity was certainly piqued. "She said I'm what?"

"It has a bad word in it," he admitted.

Of course it did. Her daughter certainly had quite the colorful tongue. "You can say it just this once," she told him, mostly for the sake of her own curiosity.

"She said you're badass."

Though Snow couldn't deny how touched she was by her daughter's sentiment, she let out a heavy sigh at her baby girl's way with words. Only Emma.

Giving Henry some archery lessons would be fun, except for one problem: she was not about to give her eleven-year-old grandson real arrows. After a moment, she remembered David telling her he had been giving Henry fencing lessons with toy swords. If the store had toy swords, then surely they would stock toy archery sets. "Sure. We'll swing by the store after we've finished our ice cream and pick something up."

"More toys?" he asked, wrinkling his nose.

Yes, more toys, because spoiling her grandson only went so far. "I'm not starting you out with real weapons, Henry. We'll use the toys so you can get a feel for the equipment and we can move you up to the real thing once you're comfortable." And once I convince your mother to allow me to give you real weapons, she added silently. The only reason Emma hadn't had David's head for teaching Henry how to fight with a sword was because the swords were wooden.

"Okay," he sighed. As he dug into the sundae, though, he seemed to remember his manners. "Thanks, Gramma. For the ice cream and for taking me to get a bow and some arrows."

"You're very welcome, Henry," she murmured, beaming at the name despite the fact that she in no way looked – or felt – old enough to be a Gramma. "Now, eat up. We have a lot to do this afternoon if you want to start your archery lessons."

Henry grinned and began taking bigger mouthfuls of ice cream.

"This one's really cool," Henry said, his eyes focused on a plastic archery set with a black bow and brightly colored arrows.

"It's also entirely too big for you." Snow rested her hands on Henry's shoulders and steered him a little further down the aisle to the smaller sets. "I know it's just play equipment but you still need equipment that fits you. If the bow is too big, you won't be able to shoot properly."

Henry almost imperceptibly wrinkled his nose at the smaller sets. Snow choked back a laugh. This was one little boy who was more like his mother than he realized; Emma had the same go big or go home attitude.

Since her grandson was still gazing longingly at the set that was far too big for him, Snow poked through the sets that were his size for one with similar colors. Grinning, she pulled a box down from the shelf. "How about this one?"

His eyes brightened as he took the box from her hands. "This one's my size?"

"It is indeed."

"I really, really like it." He looked up at her with a smile so big she thought she might melt. "Thanks."

"We'll see if you're still thanking me after your first lesson," she said, giving him a wink.

As they headed to the register, Henry shifted the box into his other arm and slipped his hand into Snow's. If Emma's hand sliding into hers was a little slice of heaven on earth, her grandson's hand doing the same was the entrance to that slice. She smiled down at the top of the boy's head, wishing she could pull him into a smothering embrace right here in the middle of the store.

Of course, that would only result in an embarrassed, "Come on, Gramma," from the eleven-year-old, so she had to be content with simply squeezing his hand.

The owner of the shop, an older woman named Judy who looked not unlike traditional representations of Mrs. Claus, gave both Snow and Henry a warm greeting as they approached the register. "Good morning," Snow replied, taking the archery set from Henry's hand and setting it on the counter.

"Archery, hmm?" Judy said, addressing Henry. "Didn't your grandfather buy you some swords a few weeks ago?"

"Yes, he did, but a good knight is well-rounded," Henry answered, smiling.

The women shared a laugh as Snow got out the money to pay for Henry's archery set and Judy bagged it. "Well, then I suppose I should wish you luck,young Sir Henry," Judy replied.

"Why, thank you, milady," Henry said, giving a little bow as any chivalrous knight should.

Snow gave an indulgent roll of her eyes as Judy gave her back her change. "Thank you," she murmured to the older woman. She supposed Judy wouldn't run a toy shop if she didn't enjoy indulging the children that came through, but it was always nice to see an adult playing along with a child.

"You're quite welcome, Snow. My own grandbabies are just as enthusiastic as he is." Raising her voice enough for Henry to hear as well, she added, "Now, shoo. Out with the both of you. I expect a glowing report from your first lesson, young man."

"Yes, ma'am." Henry took the bag from his grandmother's hands to carry out to the car. At the door, he looked up at Snow. "You ready?"

"I am," she replied, pushing the door open and allowing him out in front of her. "How about you?"

"I was born ready," he said with a sage nod.

She burst out laughing. "Well, let's not delay, then."

Upon leaving the toy store, Snow made a quick pit stop at the apartment to pick up her own bow and quiver. The next stop was to the stables so that Henry could visit his horse and Snow could borrow some hay to set up their targets for archery practice. Since Henry's arrows ended in suction cups, he didn't need the hay, but Snow's arrows were the real deal. If she was going to shoot them, she needed to shoot them at something they wouldn't damage.

Once she got two bales of hay loaded into the back of her station wagon and Henry had finished brushing his horse, they piled back in the car and took off for the elementary school. "Um, Gramma?" Henry said when she pulled into a space in the empty parking lot. "You know it's Saturday, don't you?"

"Of course I do," Snow said, smiling. "We're going to use the soccer fields for practice."

"I'm not going to learn in the woods?" he asked in a disappointed little voice. "How can I pretend I'm in the Enchanted Forest if we're not in the woods?"

"Slow down there, William Tell," Snow laughed. "Trust me, you're going to be glad for all this wide open space. No distractions, no chance of accidentally hitting something that flew its way into the path of your arrow. Besides, the royals learn on fields like this."

Did she know her grandson or what? His eyes had started sparkling the instant she mentioned the royals. "Really?"

"You may have to pretend there aren't soccer goals behind us, but yes."

"Did you learn on a field like this?"

She tried to imagine herself at Henry's age, trying to learn how to shoot a bow and arrow, and found she couldn't do it. Snow hadn't learned how to shoot for the sake of learning; she'd learned in order to survive. Archery was a skill taught to the young male royals, not the young females. Although, she had no doubt in her mind that her little Emma would have bucked that trend had she grown up in their land. "Unfortunately, I had the equivalent of on-the-job training," she told her grandson. "That doesn't mean you can't learn like a royal, though."

Henry grinned as he climbed out of the car. He grabbed the bag from the toy store out of the back seat and excitedly tore into the box to free his little bow and suction-cup-tipped arrows. "Do you need help with the hay?" he asked.

"Nope," Snow replied. "How about you take my bow and quiver down the hill and pick out a spot? I'll have the hay down in a minute and then we can set up our targets."

"Okay."

Snow lugged the bales down the small hill one by one. As she set the second one down a few feet away from the first, she noticed Henry had dropped his bow and quiver in the grass and was very carefully inspecting hers. Smiling, she made her way over to her grandson. "All right, we can do this for real once if you promise to be extra careful."

"I promise," he said solemnly, tracing an X over his chest with his free hand.

"Good, because if you get hurt … well, for one, I'll never forgive myself, and for another, I think your mother might kill me."

"You're afraid of Emma?" he giggled.

In general, no, Snow was not afraid of Emma, but Emma did have quite the angry streak and Snow did have to admit to being a little afraid of finding out how she would react to her child getting injured, accidentally or otherwise. "Let's just say that I don't want to get on her bad side," she said with a wink.

She stood behind him, her hands over his, as she showed him how to notch the arrow and line up the shot. "One more thing to check when you notch the arrow is to make sure the fletching is lined up properly so it won't graze your skin. It's not sharp to the touch, but when you release the arrow, those flights will make a papercut seem like child's play."

"Okay," he nodded.

"Now, keeping the bow steady with your left hand, draw the string and the end of the arrow back with your right …" She guided his right arm back and then stepped off to the side, allowing the boy room. "Your left arm is going to stay rigid while you line up your shot. When you're ready, let the arrow fly."

Henry took a couple of deep breaths before releasing the string. The arrow whipped through the air and chocked into the grass of the hill, missing the bale of hay entirely. "Aw, man!"

"No, that was great!" Snow assured him. "It flew! The first time I tried to shoot, I underestimated the strength it would take to send the arrow anywhere. It landed in the dirt five feet in front of me."

"It did not," he mumbled, his discouragement obvious. "You're just saying that to make me feel better."

"Henry, I promise I'm not." He turned to face her and she knelt down in front of him, taking his free hand in hers. "Believe me, that was great for your first time. You remember why we had to get you a smaller bow, don't you?"

"Because you said I wouldn't be able to shoot properly with a bigger one."

"This bow is sized for me, not you," she reminded him. "You did really well."

After a moment, his eyes brightened. "Thanks."

He returned her bow to her and went to go pick up his own. Snow let out a breath of relief and continued to set up the targets, Henry's on the right and hers on the left. After she retrieved the arrow that had lodged itself in the hill, she turned to Henry. "All right. Let's get shooting."

Snow didn't really know what made her think to grab some Band-Aids out of the medicine cabinet at the apartment and stick them in the glove compartment, but thank goodness she did so. She and Henry were shooting – and with a bow of the proper size, Henry had no issues at all hitting his target – when all of a sudden, the boy let out a surprised and pained yell.

She swore to the gods her heart stopped at his cry. She dropped her bow, ran over to him, and tried her hardest not to baby him when she asked, "What happened? Let me see."

Wincing against the pain, he held up the index finger of his bow hand. She recognized the injury immediately: a bleeding cut across the side of his finger from the fletching. The slice was clean and not as deep as it could have been, but she knew from experience that cutting a finger on a flight hurt like hell. "I'm all right," he assured her. "It just stings."

Such a brave little boy, she thought, smiling down at him. Those cuts did a hell of a lot more than sting. "Come on. Let's get something on it to stop the bleeding, all right?"

Henry nodded, his eyes downcast. Snow led him up the hill and to the car. She opened the passenger door and popped the glove compartment. Her first instinct was to reach for a wet-nap but poor Henry flinched at the thought of the alcohol on his cut. Grabbing a napkin instead, she handed it over and told him to wrap it around his finger.

When they got home, she could treat the wound properly. For right now, she supposed she could deal with just wiping it with a napkin.

After Henry wiped the blood from the wound, she wrapped the Band-Aid around his finger. "That's not too tight, is it?"

"No," he answered. He sounded disappointed in himself, much like he had sounded when he missed the bale of hay.

His disappointment tore at her heart. Thinking quickly, she lifted her own left hand to the light. The scar on her index finger had faded quite a bit but it was still visible. She smiled. "Henry, I want to show you something."

She held her hand out next to her grandson's and pointed at her finger. When Henry spotted the remnant of a cut that was almost a twin of his own, he looked up at her in surprise. "You did it, too?"

"I actually did it twice in the same spot on the same day," she replied, shuddering at the memory. He shuddered, too, at the mere thought of cutting his finger again in the same tender spot. Snow smiled gently at him. "These things happen when you're learning."

He smiled back, then returned his attention to his hand, flexing his finger to test the pain. "Do you think I'll have a scar, too?"

"You might," Snow told him. It was her hope that the cut would heal evenly enough to not leave a scar. "Why?"

"Because getting a scar from an arrow would be awesome!"

At that, Snow laughed and wrapped her arm around her grandson's shoulders. "Just do me a favor and let me tell Emma, okay?"

Henry giggled. "You really are afraid of her, aren't you?"

"I'm not afraid of her," Snow insisted through a giggle of her own. "I'll just be able to tell her about your little mishap in a way that won't give her a heart attack."

"What do you mean?"

She raised her eyebrows at him. "How would you tell her? Your exact words."

He thought about it for a moment. "I'd tell her that you took me shooting and I got cut on an arrow."

"And that, my darling Henry, is an instant heart attack for any mother," she told him gently. A frown knotted his brow, so she explained further. "I would tell her that I took you out shooting, you did wonderfully, and the only problem was the fletching giving you a little cut on your finger. See the difference?"

"I do now," he said with a sheepish nod. "My way would have made her wonder how big of a cut and how bad it was and everything."

"Exactly."

He sighed heavily as he leaned back against the car. "There's so much to learn about being in a family."

"There sure is, sweetie," Snow agreed, swallowing a laugh. "There sure is."

Archery practice stopped for the day when Henry got his first bullseye. They celebrated with a hug, and since Snow's arms were beginning to tire and Henry's string fingers were getting sore, they agreed to end the lesson on a high note. They piled the bales of hay and the equipment back into Snow's station wagon and took off for the stables to return the hay.

The next stop was to Granny's for a hot chocolate to warm them up after spending the past few hours outside in forty-nine-degree weather. Hitting up the diner twice in the same day was probably overkill, but Snow decided that spoiling her grandson occasionally required overkill.

They arrived back at the apartment to find Emma's Bug already in its space. "Well, at least one of them survived the day," Snow murmured, making Henry giggle.

"Are you sure we're not walking into World War III?" he asked when Snow parked her car.

Actually, she wasn't. It had been her hope that David and Emma would end the day closer than when they started, but she had no way of ensuring her plan would work the way she wanted. "There's only one way to find out," she replied.

They climbed out of the car, grabbed their bows, and hooked their quivers over their shoulders. She looked down to find him staring up at her with a grin on his lips. "What is it?"

"We look like twins," he said.

With a touched smiled, she wrapped him in a small sideways hug. Then, almost as if afraid to find what awaited them in the apartment, they made their way inside and up the stairs.

"Where have you two been?" David asked when Snow opened the apartment door. She was pleased to hear a light lilt in her husband's voice. He didn't sound stressed, so maybe his day had gone well after all.

"And why does my son have a bow and arrows?" Emma added, her voice light like her father's but tinged with concern.

"They're pretend," Henry rushed to inform her. He pulled an arrow from the quiver and held up the suction-cup tip to prove to his mother that they were safe. Emma let out a breath of relief. "I got a bullseye, though! Gramma says I'm a natural."

Emma grinned proudly at her son. "Great job, kid! We'll have to set the target up somewhere tomorrow so you can show me." He beamed as he hung his little quiver up next to Snow's. "Hey, wait a sec," Emma cried, her voice rising in panic. "Is that a Band-Aid? What happened? I thought the arrows were fake!"

Henry darted his eyes from Emma to Snow before mumbling, "Um, I've got to get something upstairs." Then he took off up the steps, leaving Emma staring at Snow with her eyebrows raised.

"We're working on his subtlety," Snow said with a slight roll of her eyes, making David snicker. "He notched one of the arrows improperly, and the fletching cut his finger. It stopped bleeding after a few minutes. I just asked him to let me tell you because excited little boys have a way of making things sound a lot worse than they really are."

Emma let out another breath of relief. A cut on the kid's finger; she could deal with that. "So, aside from that, I take it the two of you had a good day."

"We had a wonderful day," Snow confirmed. "And dare I ask how the day went for you two?"

"I learned that my daughter absolutely cannot stand paperwork," David spoke up, smiling teasingly at Emma, "and that she plays a mean game of Rock Paper Scissors."

"Rock Paper Scissors?"

"It's how we divvied up the paperwork," Emma explained as if that was the most obvious thing in the world. "Oh, and I learned that I am never playing the dot game with him again."

David snickered. Snow looked from her husband to her daughter and shook her head. "You know what? I don't think I want to know."

"Is it safe to come down now?" Henry asked in a small voice from the top of the stairs, making everyone laugh.

"Yes, it's safe to come down," Emma told him. "Though, I do want to see that cut when it's time to change the Band-Aid."

"It's my first battle wound!"

Emma rolled her eyes and mumbled something that sounded like, "Oh, sweet Jesus."

Snow grinned and peeked into the grocery bag sitting on the counter to see what her husband and daughter had picked up for dinner. If she did say so herself, today had been quite the little success. Father and daughter were a bit more comfortable with each other than when they had walked out the door, and grandmother and grandson had spent a lovely little day together.

As she began pulling the groceries out of the bag, she felt small arms wrap around her waist. She turned around to find Henry grinning up at her. "I had the best day today, Gramma."

It was not at all hard to return to boy's embrace but Snow did find it a bit difficult to hide the tears shining in her eyes. "I had the best day, too, Henry," she murmured, wrapping him in that tight hug she'd been itching to give him since the toy store. "Thank you for sharing it with me."