Emma noticed something when they got back from the Enchanted Forest. Mary Margaret's ring had switched hands. She had always noticed her roommate's hands before everything happened. They were such soft, gentle looking hands. The kind she always thought a mother was supposed to have, that she never got to experience. She knew her roommate twirled that very ring around her finger when she was nervous or upset but trying not to show it. She knew her roommate twisted her sweaters in her hands when she was nervous and the ring just wasn't enough.
She learned while fighting off ogres, pirates, witches and over protective warriors that those hands weren't near as gentle as they looked. They were agile enough to shoot a bow but strong enough to grip and swing a sword if needed. She learned they were also as gentle against her as she pictured her mother's hands would be when they would cup her face like she was the most precious thing in the world and soothe her fears of never seeing Henry again. She felt their strength when they gripped her hand tight to reassure her and to remind each other they were still together. She saw their strength when she tackled Mulan at the base of the beanstalk and she felt their softness when they pressed against her chest to make sure her heart was where it belonged.
But now Emma saw something new. She saw the way they fit just right against her father's cheek when she kissed him to wake him up. She saw how perfect her mother's hands fit inside her father's when they held on to each other. She saw how her father's hand found its way to nestle just against her waist and hip when she leaned into him and her hand would slip down and grip onto the fingers, or sometimes just let one of her fingers twist around his. She saw how when their arms would be linked her mother's hand would find a way to grip onto his hand even if she didn't need to. She saw how they used their hands to convey their love for each other in just a simple touch.
She saw how her father's hands were strong and protective when they gripped onto a sword to protect her family. She saw how gentle they could be with all of them when he felt the need to reassure them. She felt how strong and gentle they were at once when they pulled her into his side when she needed him most. She watched how he would always have them on his hips when he was frustrated or when he wanted to make himself seem larger than what was trying to intimidate him. She found that he was strangely domesticated for a prince, even if he had been a shepherd before. His hands were soft yet calloused in places from handling a sword.
Emma learned she got more than her mother's chin and father's tact too. She saw different facial expressions on both their faces she knows she's seen in the mirror. She had her father's hair but her mother's eyes. Her smile seemed to come from them both, as did her stubbornness as Granny so lovingly told her. She got habits from both of them she never would have realized if she hadn't found them. She put her hands on her hips just like her father when she was frustrated; she also got her right hook from him. She fiddled with her necklaces when she was nervous like her mother did her ring.
Emma was learning a lot about her parents just by watching, and somehow it all came back to their hands. They were everything she always wanted them to be; strong enough to protect her but gentle enough to hold her when she needed them. If either of them ever noticed her watching them the last few months, neither one ever called her out on it. Henry had once tried to bring it up but she shrugged it off and distracted him with ice cream. She had a feeling he hadn't forgotten but rather recognized her need to just not talk about it yet. Yeah it all came back to their hands. She was watching them now, cooking dinner together in that small little kitchen. Gentle touches to let the other know where they were moving, or just to remind each other they were there. They never really stopped touching each other and that should bug her, but all she could do is watch. Especially when her father made a comment that caused her mother to sputter and throw a carrot from the salad at his head. Maybe she wasn't as mad at them still as she thought some days, but she wasn't ready to tell them that.