A/N: I have no idea what this is or where it came from. But I hope you enjoy it!
"Swan, you have to dress up for Halloween!" Killian insisted, giving her his best puppy dog eyes as she washed dishes in the kitchen.
"Why?" she countered, not about to give in so easily and handing him another plate to dry. "Henry's going out with his friends this year, so it's not like we're going out."
"But what if people come here?" he whined. "And the town celebration! Come on, Swan, don't ruin the fun!"
"What would I even dress up as?"
"You could be my pirate wench," he suggested, wrapping his arms around her from behind and kissing her neck, trying (and succeeding) to elicit a small moan from her.
"I hardly think I look much like a pirate's wench," she replied, sounding ever so slightly rueful as she ran a soapy hand over her growing belly.
"Nonsense," Killian answered, pressing yet another kiss to her neck, "you look exactly the same as a rather mischievous tavern wench I met in the Enchanted Forest one night."
Emma smiled, leaning back against his chest and lacing her fingers through his. The moment was broken approximately thirty seconds later when the baby gave a rather forceful kick in the direction of Emma's bladder, and she unhappily extracted herself from Killian's arms to rush off to the bathroom.
"I look ridiculous," Emma groaned as she eyed herself in the long mirror on their bathroom door. She was wearing a long, faux leather coat not unlike Killian's and a white flowy blouse knotted above her stomach, a pair of leggings and some knee-high boots, and, of course, a brilliant buccaneer hat on top of her loose blonde curls. A coil of thick rope was draped across her chest like a seatbelt, and heavy gold hoops hung from her ears. On her exposed belly, Killian had (rather impressively) painted a very realistic looking ship's wheel.
"Nonsense, love, you look beautiful," Killian answered, sauntering out of the bathroom in full pirate getup.
"It's not a costume if you wear your every day attire, you know," Emma teased, mostly to get her mind off his ridiculously handsome face and how much his current appearance made her want to… well, not make it to the Halloween party on time.
"I don't wear this every day," he countered, gesturing mainly to the red vest that left a maddening amount of his chest exposed. "This is reserved for very…" he paused to chew on his words and step closer to Emma, "special occasions."
She stood, speechless and staring, the scent of salt water wafting off of him, and she couldn't resist reaching out to touch him, first gently, and then tugging him closer with her fingers on the neck of his vest. Her lips pressed against his roughly, and she could feel him grinning smugly as he kissed her back, immensely satisfied with her reaction.
"Shall we, love?" he asked, pulling away and offering Emma his arm.
She shot him a look of exasperation, but accepted anyway, allowing him to help her down the stairs (it was so much harder now that she couldn't see her feet) and out to the car. Their house wasn't far from Granny's exactly, but at thirty-seven weeks pregnant, that walk felt like a marathon, so Killian drove the little yellow bug (Emma's knuckles white on the hand hold of the door) instead. He parked around back, and they entered through the hallway where she had once returned his heart to his chest, seemingly a lifetime ago.
As they made their entrance to the party, Emma immediately sought the comfort of her parents. She had begun getting extremely anxious about her appearance as she drew closer to her due date, feeling like she was the size of a bus every time someone's eyes glanced at her belly or a shirt didn't quite stretch enough to cover it. Despite Killian's insistence that she was as beautiful as she had ever been, Emma had trouble feeling that way most of the time, and her costume left her feeling somewhat exposed.
"Emma!" Mary Margaret gushed, hugging her daughter tightly, and keeping one arm around her shoulder, well aware of Emma's need for comfort.
"You look great, sweetheart," David offered, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek, and Emma relaxed a little.
"Mom!" Henry called out, having just spotted her, and she waved him over.
"Really kid, a prince?" she teased, ruffling his hair kindly.
"You know, I'm not sure that really counts as a costume," Mary Margaret said, and Emma and Henry gave her confused looks.
"Well," David continued for his wife, "as our grandson, technically you are a prince."
Emma gaped at him, surprised.
"Since Emma's next in line for the throne," Mary Margaret added, "all her children are princes or princesses."
"Next in line?" Emma stammered, sounding thoroughly overwhelmed.
"Of course!" Mary Margaret smiled. "Not that we'll be returning to the Enchanted Forest anytime soon, but if we did…" she trailed off.
Killian pressed a soft kiss to Emma's temple, trying to get her to relax. "Perhaps this is a topic we can all discuss another time?" he suggested, shooting David a meaningful glance.
"Of course, of course," he said, chuckling lightly, and he pulled Mary Margaret away to make the rounds.
Henry dashed off the moment he saw Violet walk through the front door, and Killian hugged Emma tightly in an attempt to soothe her nerves.
"Need a drink?" Came Robin's voice as he and Regina joined them, her considerably smaller baby bump completely hidden in her Cleopatra costume.
"I'll have to decline, mate," Killian answered with a smile. "I'll be staying just as sober as my date tonight."
"Seriously? You have to make me look bad in front of Regina?" Robin teased, clapping him on the shoulder. "Now I've got to stay sober to live up to your shining example."
"Oh no," Regina interrupted, waving Granny over herself, "I was counting on him getting a little drunk tonight - give me a break from having to listen to him talk if he passes out early," she teased, winking at Robin.
"I don't mind, Killian, if you want to -" Emma started, but he quieted her with a quick kiss.
"Nonsense, Swan," he said jovially. "Besides, don't want to be drunk if the little one decides to make an early appearance."
Emma smiled and rested her head on his shoulder as he put his arm around her, the tips of his fingers tracing circles on her belly. When she grew tired, he let her lean on him and led her out to the car, driving them the short distance to their house as her eyelids drooped. By the time he parked in the driveway and walked around the car to open her door for her, she was fast asleep, and he gently lifted her up, carrying her to their bedroom, where he pulled off her boots and jacket, replaced her blouse with a comfy t-shirt, and curled up next to her, her back pressed against his chest as his hand rested in its customary place on her stomach.
It was a good thing he had stayed sober, since the baby decided it was ready to come out only a few short hours later. By that afternoon, he was a father, the least piratey man on the planet as he teared up at the sight of Emma holding their little baby girl. Their daughter.