His back is curved, his chin resting in the palm of his hand and his elbow on his knee. To be quite honest, he hasn't been this nervous in a very, very long time.
He knows there's nothing to be afraid of – she's in hands best qualified for this, who bring life into the world for a living.
But that doesn't keep the worst part of his brain from niggling at the rest of it. Something's bound to go wrong and there goes yet another loved one from his too long life.
Slight pressure squeezes at his knee. Slowly sliding his eyes open, Killian smiles gently at the woman seated next to him. Despite the potential awkwardness of the situation, Emma has been her usual brilliant self for the entirety. Not for a moment did he doubt her investment in Belle's situation. It was important to her because it was important to him.
He loved her for that, and so much more.
"For the 17th time, they'll both be fine," she whispers to him.
"Twentieth," he corrects her. Keeping track of her reassurances is the only thing keeping him sane at the moment.
Emma snickers. Her hand moves from his knee up along the side of his body until it comes to rest at the nape of his neck. She twirls the short hairs around her fingers, the movement calming him slightly.
"They're going to be fine, Killian. Trust me."
It's only another two hours or so before a nurse comes out, her expression a little bit puzzled. She approaches them with hesitant steps.
Killian stands suddenly. "What's happened?" he asks. "What's happened of Belle? Is she well? And the child?"
A hand falls on his forearm and he finally takes a breath. "Let the poor woman speak," Emma chuckles.
"Then you are Mr. Jones." The tension in the nurse's shoulders eases. "Nothing is wrong. Mother and baby are both wonderful," she assures them, and Killian can't help the relieved whoosh of air that leaves his lungs. "I've come to take you to her room. Belle wants to see you."
Killian feels the muscles of his forehead scrunch upwards. "She wants to see me?" The nurse nods. Glancing to his side, he catches the glint in Emma's eyes as she nods as well. His hand finds Swan's and links their fingers together. "You'll accompany me?"
"Of course," she mutters.
He's never had a fondness for hospital rooms. Something bad always happens when there's one involved. It explains why he tenses up the moment he and Emma follow the nurse into Belle's room: he's on high alert, because damn whomever tries to hurt any of them.
Lying on the bed before them, Belle barely looks up from the little one cradled between her bent legs. She's smiling, wide and tired, utterly enthralled by her son.
Killian has to stop himself in the doorway. Unlike when little Neal was born, Killian himself had been right by Belle's side for the duration of her pregnancy. For all the snoring and abrupt crying and complaining of sore feet. And now – now his friend's a mother. She's got a son.
(He finds it amusing that this is Belle's son – just Belle's son – and not the Crocodile's.)
"He's gorgeous, Belle." Killian's attention snaps to Emma, who's approached the bedside without him. Resting a hand on Belle's shoulder, Swan leans over to watch the babe's jerky movements. "Look at those wide eyes. He's gonna break hearts with those when he grows up."
"Quite the choice of phrase there, love," Killian chides her good-naturedly, joining her at Belle's side. His hand slides to the small of her back, grounding himself and keeping him in the moment.
"It's quite alright, Killian." Carefully scooping the babe into her arms and pulling him closer to her chest, Belle shifts about beneath the thin covers. Her legs straighten with an echoing crack of her knees. "I'm sure he'll follow in the steps of his godfather."
From the corner of his eye, Killian catches his friend throw a glance at Swan. He's sure he should sense the tone and meaning of the look, being as observant as he is. For now, though, he's too focused on the stuttered yawn the baby's trying to expel. It's worrying, watching his small chest stop its rise as he tries to get all the bad air out.
"Killian," Belle chuckles, jostling her son against her. "Aren't you going to ask about his godfather?"
He shakes his head, still entranced by the little lad, who sighs and settles into Belle's hold. "It's not my business to know unless it's your desire."
His answer makes Belle laugh outright. Killian finally looks to her, cocking an eyebrow.
"I'm talking about you, Killian," she says. Her eyes stare him down, not shying away from the idea of him becoming a permanent fixture in her son's life. "I'm expecting my son to be a heartbreaker like his godfather is."
"Me?" The question is unnecessary, but Killian's too stunned at her proposal. He's happy now to have placed his hand on Emma's back, for now he can use her to keep him upright. "Oh, Belle, as honored as I would be, I certainly don't believe I would be –"
Scoffing, Belle easily swats at the air in front of him with her free hand. "Killian, I haven't slept properly for nearly two weeks. Now is not the time to be disagreeing with me." A slight tilt of his head signals his agreement, and both women laugh. "You've kept me and my son safe from harm these last months. You're the only reason we've made it to this point." Much quieter and more solemn, she adds, "You're here and he's not."
The glance he sends to Swan is involuntary. Knowing his love's past, the beginning of her and Henry's story –
"Somebody had to be here for you," he says with a shrug. "You shouldn't be alone."
"And I haven't been because of you and Emma." Belle sighs as she squirms in her seat. "I know you, Killian Jones. I know that you put your heart into everything you do and say. I just thought you'd like my son to know you by a proper title when he grows up."
Her words are so simple that the emotion and thought behind it shine bright through them. Like the first time Swan said she loved him sans impending disaster, he's rendered speechless. He wants to say something – that's what he exceeds at, words, if Swan is to be believed – but he can't find the right combination in the correct order to express how truly honored he feels.
Yet, since he's usually so verbose, his silence worries Belle. He can tell the moment Belle begins to doubt herself and her assumptions. She wiggles higher on the bed and her voice sharpens. "I can understand it being too much, but it's all I can do to thank you for everything you've done for us."
Finally, the circuits in his mind piece together something. It still doesn't come close to how much it means to him, but the waiver in his voice when he finally says, "I'd love nothing more," does bridge the gap.
Smiling, Belle nods. "I knew you would." She shifts again and it's then that Killian begins to worry for her wellbeing again. She's obviously not comfortable, but then she asks, "Would you like to hold him?"
"What? No, I couldn't. My hook." He holds up the offending attachment as if to remind Belle.
"Nonsense." She groans, then looks to the woman beside her. To be honest, he's almost forgot Swan was there, her quiet uncharacteristic. "Emma, I've got to use the ladies', maybe grab a quick shower. Would you mind getting your stubborn pirate to hold his godson for a bit?"
"It'd be my pleasure." Gently, Belle lays the baby into Swan's capable hold, then gets up and walks through to the connected bathroom. The door shuts and Killian is faced with the prospect of holding a newborn for the first time. After a moment of quietly bouncing the baby in her arms, Emma turns to him.
"Alright, buddy, the time has come."
"Swan, you can't think that I'm –"
"Killian, hold the baby," she commands. "You're not going to hurt him. The worst you'll do is love him too much." With her free hand, she positions his arm into shape. She skillfully maneuvers the newborn into the crook of his hooked arm.
At first, the baby begins to fuss. Of course the babe'll cry when I hold him, Killian thinks. It's only right.
But the whimpers end before they can truly start. Looking down to the newborn he holds, Killian finds his godson has settled into sleep in his arms.
"There," Emma says triumphantly. "See, he fits perfectly there. Nice and snug."
Carefully, so as not to wake him, Killian draws his pointer finger down his chest and across his brow. "I didn't expect him to be so small," he whispers.
He senses more than sees Emma against his shoulder. "He's about the same size Henry was when he was born," she tells him.
"Really?" He has trouble believing that the lad he's watched grow tall and lanky was ever as small as this little lad.
"Yeah." He feels her rest her head against him. Her breath is hot through his clothes when she mumbles something under breathe. To him, it sounds like, "This'll be good practice for both of you."
"Both of whom?" he asks. Emma stays suspiciously unresponsive. Her head is still against his shoulder, but her grip on his arm has tightened, giving her away. Killian turns to face her, displacing her headrest. "What do you mean, love?"
"You and Henry," she says softly. "Watching out for him will be good practice for…" It's her hesitation that makes him concerned. "Later."
"What do you mean, later?"
Later, he thinks. Later what? Later today? Later in the future? Why would his godson be good practice for him and Henry? For him and Henry? It's not like – oh. Oh.
Killian feels his eyes grown wide as he looks at Emma. "Swan, tell me, because my mind's getting away from me, love, and I don't want to be wrong and pressure you into–"
"Babe." She places a finger to his lip to quiet him, a sly grin growing on her lips. "I don't think you're wrong."
"Emma," he all but growls.
"I'm pregnant." There's no question in her tone, no uncertainty, no emotion except for what sounds like joy. "I knew you were nervous about Belle, so I wanted you to see that she was fine before I told you and you worried yourself to death," she explains. The more she talks, though, the shyer her body language seems to grow. Her voice gets higher, her words meld together, her body shrink into itself. She's made herself nervous by the time she quietly says, "Surprise?"
Killian glances toward the bathroom before getting as close to Emma as he can without squishing his godson. "Gods above, Emma," he mutters, "if I wasn't so afraid of hurting this little lad –"
As if she can reads his mind, Emma laughs. She leans forward and kisses him on the cheek. But now that she's so close, he dives for her lips, making her giggle again.
"I know," she says. "I hope that can tide you over for now, captain."
"I'm never satisfied, Swan." It's the pirate in him that says it, though this newer more subdued Killian heartily agrees. "My love for you is too great and made all the more so by this." But the swagger his words are infused with disappears and even he realizes the wonderment that takes its place when he warily asks, "A child? Our child?"
She hums her confirmation, her hand coming to rest on the newborn's stomach. Following her gaze, Killian watches her hand rise and fall with his godson's peaceful breathing.
"If this little guy gives any indication, you'll be a natural," she mutters contently.
Moaning, he surges toward her again, catching her smile between his lips. "Heavens above, Emma," he mumbles against her lips, "I love you."
She's still smiling when she separates their lips and connects their foreheads. "I know."
Killian hears noise from the bathroom, signaling Belle's imminent return. Emma steps back, biting back her secret, and tells him she's going to go check up on Henry. And though she departs the room, his Swan doesn't leave his mind. Staring down at the slumbering little lad – his godson, another person he loves he'd never thought he'd have – he can't help but think about the future. How in a mere matter of months, he'll be holding his own flesh and blood.
"We've got a lot to learn before then, don't we?" he asks the slumbering baby. He doesn't expect a response, but it looks like the little lad curls the corners of his mouth up, and it makes Killian chuckle happily.
If he can get so much joy from this child, he can only imagine how much he'll get once his and Emma's enters this world.