Title: Midnight Confessions
Summary: "What are you doing?" "I can't sleep so I thought I'd get up for a little bit," Charming replied as he eased the book closed, knowing full well that wasn't at all what his daughter had meant. "Why are you up?" Emma lifted an eyebrow at him. "The same, and you're not getting out of this that easily. I saw what page you were on."
Spoilers: Post-ep for 3x22, "There's No Place Like Home."
Characters: Emma Swan and Prince Charming.
Rating/Warning: K+. Daddy Charming fluff so sticky sweet it'll rot your teeth if you let it.
Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time and its characters were created by Eddie Kitsis and Adam Horowitz and are owned by ABC. Not my toys but I'm playing with them anyway. I'll make sure to put them back when I'm done.
Author's Note: ClaraFrench asked me a million years ago for a story about Charming being jealous that Hook got Emma's first dance instead of him. As such, I've set this back a whole bunch as if it's the night Emma and Hook returned from the past. Title comes from the old song by The Grass Roots (because it fit omg so perfectly ;)). Feedback thrills me to pieces! Enjoy.
Prince Charming sat at the kitchen island, the single bulb on the range hood the only light he dared leave illuminated. His baby boy and wife were fast asleep in the next room and the silence in the loft above indicated that his daughter and grandson were tucked tightly in their beds as well. Charming hadn't been able to fall asleep, however, and had finally gotten up to face the source of his troubles.
Henry's storybook sat on the island in front of him, its pages spread open to the story of Prince Charles and Princess Leia. The story of his baby girl and a pirate. Oddly enough, it wasn't the pirate part of the equation giving him pause tonight. No, it was the knowledge that he'd spent a few long-ago hours in the company of his baby girl and he hadn't even known.
Then again, why would he have known? Emma and Hook had time-traveled, for crying out loud. At the time Charming had met up with Leia and Charles, Emma hadn't even been a twinkle in his eye. Plus, the glamor spell Rumplestiltskin had cast on them had ensured that neither of them would be recognizable to him if he remembered them in the future.
And to be perfectly honest, he hadn't remembered them. Not specifically. He'd remembered a conversation around a fire with another prince. He'd remembered helping that prince rescue his princess so Charming himself could retrieve his mother's ring. The other details involving Leia and Charles, however, had been lost to time.
Lost to time until tonight, that is. When Henry had begun reading the story of Charles and Leia, all the details of the adventure had come rushing back. The knowledge that Leia was really Emma made every single moment of that adventure take on a completely different meaning. A deeper meaning.
Charming flipped the page and found himself staring down at the illustration of his baby girl and her pirate on the dance floor. Their eyes were focused solely on each other and smiles lit their faces. She looked absolutely beautiful; she was practically glowing, for crying out loud.
The wave of irrational jealousy hit him without warning.
Gods, Charming should have been there for Emma's first royal ball. He should have had her first dance. Despite the threat of the Dark Curse looming over their heads before she was born, Charming had often dreamed of Emma's first ball as a tiny princess, so tiny that she had to dance standing on his feet.
Seeing her in this illustration, the smile on her face, the ball gown and the finery … he absolutely hated that he'd missed it. He'd been there, of course, but he hadn't known her. Couldn't even remember her being there, actually. And he hated it.
All of a sudden, he heard footsteps on the metal stairs leading down from the loft. Before he had a chance to even attempt to hide the book, Emma came into view as she padded down the stairs, pure frustration on her face.
She clearly hadn't expected anyone else to be up because she visibly started upon seeing someone sitting at the counter. Then her gaze landed on the book. She froze on the stairs, fixing Charming with a wary expression. "What are you doing?"
"I can't sleep so I thought I'd get up for a little bit," he replied as he eased the book closed, knowing full well that wasn't at all what his daughter had meant. "Why are you up?"
Emma lifted an eyebrow at him. "The same, and you're not getting out of this that easily. I saw what page you were on."
Charming had to admit to being rather surprised that she was pushing the subject. Prior to her trip to the past, she would gladly have let it go. Since she seemed to be asking for honesty, he decided to give it to her. Sighing softly, he set the book back on the counter and opened it up to the illustration of her and Hook. "I wish I remembered this a lot better," he admitted.
Emma's breath caught in her throat and for a brief, heart-stopping moment, Charming thought he'd read the situation wrong. Maybe she hadn't wanted to talk about it after all. To his immense relief, she didn't run. She did, however, cross the kitchen and pull the remainder of a pint of ice cream from the freezer.
Either the time or her mood made her forgo bowls. She just handed him a spoon she dug out of the utensil drawer, kept another spoon for herself, and set the container on the counter between them.
Charming squinted at the carton in the dim light. Triple chocolate chunk. Of course.
"If it's any consolation," Emma said as she stabbed her spoon into the ice cream, "it was pretty much torture not being able to tell you. Either of you."
"I'm sure it was," he replied, trying his best to keep his tone controlled. This new, relatively open Emma of the past few hours was nothing short of miraculous. He was, however, somewhat afraid of pressing his luck and sending those walls of hers shooting right back up again.
She kept her gaze locked on the ice cream as she continued. "And when she … when the thing in the courtyard happened, it was even harder. My mom was dead, in part because of me, and I couldn't even go to my dad for comfort because you didn't know. You didn't know who I was to you. You didn't know who she was to you. You were upset, of course, because it had happened right in front of us but you … you had no idea what you'd lost. And I couldn't tell you."
Charming felt a vise tightening around his heart at the pain in her voice. "Emma, I'm sorry."
"Don't be," she said, shrugging as she raised her eyes to his. "It's not your fault. How could you have known?"
He was quiet a moment, trying to gauge how she would take what he was about to say. She'd opened the door, though, so he decided to go for it. "I do vaguely remember thinking that Leia was taking it awfully hard. Part of me longed to comfort her. It was weird, like part of me felt like it was my duty to do so, which made no sense to me at the time. Charles had it pretty well under control, though, and I didn't want to intrude."
She smiled sadly at him before popping another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth.
They picked at the ice cream in silence for a long beat. When Emma spoke up again, Charming was not at all surprised that she changed the subject slightly. "But somehow I don't think that was the part you were wishing you remembered better."
Charming shuddered. No, it certainly was not. That was the one part of the adventure he wished he didn't remember quite so vividly. He swallowed hard, set his spoon down, and tapped the illustration. "No. This is the night I wish I could remember."
Emma took a breath and held it, as if trying to gather her courage for this conversation. Since she still hadn't closed the door, Charming continued. "I was at my little girl's first ball and I can't remember it."
She squirmed a little under his pained, loving gaze. "At all?"
Charming smiled, a meager attempt to set them both at ease for his answer. "Not the important part."
Emma let out a breath through her nose before sticking another spoonful of ice cream in her mouth. Charming recognized the action as a trademark Emma stalling tactic, a little bit of activity to buy her time so she could gather her thoughts. He decided to wait her out and was rewarded for his patience when she swallowed the ice cream and said, "We were supposed to blend in."
"You did it well."
She scoffed. "Yeah, up until the end, there." A mortified expression came over her face as she give him direct eye contact. "You didn't see it, did you? You didn't see me get hauled off by Regina's guards?"
"No. I only heard about it after the fact," he assured her. She let out a breath of relief, thankful that her father hadn't witnessed her capture. "But that's not even what I'm talking about." He pointed down at the illustration again. "This may sound ridiculous and hell, I know it's irrational, but this dance? It was supposed to be mine."
Charming winced when Emma dropped her gaze back down to the ice cream. She was suddenly intent on fiddling with the container, poking her spoon into the remaining ice cream in an effort to find a chocolate chunk. Had he pushed her too far?
A moment or two passed and she still hadn't run, literally or figuratively. Charming took another breath and made sure he kept his tone soft and gentle. "Not this particular dance, of course. I just meant your first dance at your first ball. It should have been mine. I dreamed of it being mine. It's just one more thing added to the pile of things that were stolen from us but for whatever reason, this one's hitting me pretty hard."
Emma stared down at the counter for a frighteningly long beat, so long that Charming began to panic. Oh, gods, he'd pushed her too hard. He'd given her too much honesty too quickly.
Just as he was getting ready to apologize for laying all that on her, she raised her eyes to his. The wisdom in her eyes kept him quiet while also easing the panic in his heart. "Maybe it's hitting you harder because on some level, you'd given up hope of ever having it."
He frowned at her. "What do you mean?"
She shrugged. "Well, it's not like getting to the Enchanted Forest from here is easy or anything. Storybrooke is home now and the opportunities for balls here are slim to none. Maybe on some level, you'd made your peace with not getting my first dance at my first royal ball simply because you'd figured I would never have a first royal ball. And then I do end up going to a royal ball and it turns out that you were there after all but you didn't know me. So, there are two things going on here: that someone else got what should have been yours and that you were so close to having it."
Charming stared at his amazingly insightful daughter, shocked that she'd gotten to the root of the problem so quickly. It was something he hadn't even realized himself but made perfect sense. "Maybe that's it."
Emma shot him a soft smile. "I never thought I'd get the chance to have a first royal ball, either, you know. And in some ways, I still really haven't. The few minutes when Killian and I just let the moment take over are now immortalized in this book but it wasn't all fun and games. We were on a mission and I had a job to do. I had to make sure two people crossed paths or else I wouldn't exist at all, remember. That's kind of a little stressful."
He smiled at her attempt at a joke. "You're saying I shouldn't let it get to me because it wasn't exactly real."
"As far as you and I are concerned, it wasn't," she shrugged. "It's not as if this is how my first ball really would have gone. At least, I hope it's not how my first ball really would have gone."
He chuckled. "No, it wouldn't really have gone like that."
"All right, then. So yeah, I once attended a ball you did a million years ago but it wasn't really us. You weren't my dad yet and I wasn't your daughter. I wasn't even a twinkle in your eye."
Charming blinked in surprise at her phrasing. Hadn't he described her that way while brooding earlier?
"What?" she asked somewhat self-consciously.
"Nothing," he replied, a little smile tugging at his lips despite himself. She was very much his daughter, far more than she probably realized.
She frowned at him but let it go. "All I'm saying is don't let it get to you."
That smile of his grew wider. "I'll try."
Talking with her had helped a great deal. He was still disappointed that he missed the chance to dance with her at a ball but she was right; even if he'd interacted with her at the ball then, it wouldn't have been what he really wanted. Because what he really wanted was to dance with his little girl when they both knew who they were to each other.
He collected the ice cream container and spoons. There wasn't enough ice cream to save, so he tossed the container in the trash and set the spoons in the sink. "What do you think, kiddo? Are you ready to try to go to sleep?"
At the suggestion, she stiffened. Her eyes shot to the book, her expression equal parts fear and pain.
What was bothering her so? Only after mentally going back over how their conversation started did he understand. She'd opened with what was bothering her, with what had sent her downstairs in the middle of the night. "You still see it, don't you?" he murmured.
Somehow she knew without having to ask that he meant Snow's seeming death at the stake. "Every time I close my eyes," she whispered. "That's actually why I came down here. I just needed ..."
"You needed to see that she was okay."
She gave a curt nod, causing Charming's heart to shatter in his chest. His poor sweet little girl. He gave her a nod in return and she turned towards her parents' bedroom to check on her mother.
As soon as she had disappeared into the darkness of the room, Charming set his shoulders. He may not have gotten his baby girl's first dance at her first royal ball and he may not have been able to comfort Princess Leia but that was all in the past. They were in Storybrooke now. Emma was still his baby girl and tonight she needed comfort. And maybe, just maybe, he would be able to reclaim a little bit of the dad time he'd always dreamed he'd have.
He dug into the drawers for the emergency supplies. When he found a taper candle, he grasped it and pulled it from the drawer. Then he retrieved a box of matches from another drawer and a candlestick from the hutch.
Emma emerged from the bedroom looking much more relaxed. Charming smiled at her, gently took his baby's hand, and tugged her back towards the metal staircase.
She went with him wordlessly, which surprised him. She was exhausted, of course, but there was something else there, too. A little glimpse of the lonely little girl that still resided somewhere deep inside her, perhaps.
They climbed the stairs to the loft silently. After Emma climbed back into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin, Charming sat down on the edge of the mattress and set the candle on her nightstand. "I'm going to light the candle," he said, keeping his voice low so as not to wake Henry. "It'll help keep the nightmares away."
"No flames," she whispered, sounding more like a scared little girl than the twenty-nine-year-old woman she was.
His heart broke again at her tone. "Just one," he assured her. "It'll be soft and steady." Nothing like the hot, raging inferno she saw in her mind's eye.
Charming waited for his baby girl's nod before lighting the candle. Then he squeezed her hand and said, "Now try to sleep."
"'Kay. G'night, Dad."
"Good night, kiddo."
To his utter shock, when he tried to pull his hand from Emma's so he could let her fall asleep in peace, she held on tight. Her eyes were closed but even in the candlelight, he could see a blush coloring her cheeks. His baby girl wanted him to stay … and was completely embarrassed by that fact.
Those broken pieces of Charming's heart melded themselves back together with the warmth that was now flowing through him. Thank goodness her eyes were closed because he could not stop the touched grin from spreading across his face.
And so he stayed. Out of deference to his daughter's embarrassment, he didn't say another word to her. He just sat quietly, holding her hand while she tried to relax.
Only when her grip around his hand loosened did he release his. "Sweet dreams, my princess," he whispered before taking a leap of faith. He dropped a soft kiss on her forehead, his heart soaring when she smiled in her sleep in response. Then he pushed himself to his feet and headed to bed himself, his late-night fatherly duty accomplished.