Title: In Sickness and In Health
Summary: Emma winced, which turned into a full-brown cringe when she heard her father sneezing in the bedroom. Oh no indeed. Things were about to get so much more exhausting, weren't they? "I hate to tell you, Mom, but I think you and Dad are coming down with the squirt's cold."
Spoilers: Set post-4x11, "Heroes and Villains."
Rating/Warning: T, for language, mostly. Charming Family fluff & hurt/comfort and probably some Captain Swan stuff, too, just because I don't think I'll be able to control myself.
Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time and its characters were created by Eddie Kitsis and Adam Horowitz and are owned by ABC. I'm just borrowing them to pass the time until freakin' March.
Author's Note: Fearlessness721 asked me for a story a la "Story Hour" and "Watch Over Me" where an illness sweeps through the Charming Family and everyone has to take turns taking care of everyone else. I loved the idea to pieces and knew I'd be able to get a multi-chapter out if it, so, finally, here we be! There are a couple winks and nods to both "Story Hour" and "Watch Over Me" below, but you don't have to have read those to follow this. Feedback makes my day! Enjoy. :)
"Charming?" Snow White called from her bedroom. "Will you bring me the bulb syringe?"
Emma Swan winced as her father stood up to do as his wife asked. She might as well start preparing herself for the sound barrier to be shattered now; little Neal hated the bulb syringe. Sure enough, not even a minute after her father disappeared into the bedroom, baby wails filled the small apartment.
Poor kid.
Though Emma only had false memories of raising a baby, she was very much aware of the first rule of babies: the first time the baby got sick, the parents flipped the hell out. It didn't matter who the parents were or what hardships they'd previously conquered. Even if the parents had lived through, say, wars and evil stepmothers trying to kill them and Dark Curses, that mother and father would turn into panic-riddled worrywarts the second the infant sniffled.
At first, baby Neal's occasional little sneezes were freakin' adorable. Most things babies did, no matter how mundane, were generally adorable. But a day or so later, his little sneezes started becoming more frequent, sending Snow and David into the first stage of Panicked Parent Syndrome. And as soon as they realized that their little prince was so congested that he was having a hard time nursing, they skipped right over the rest of the stages Panicked Parent Syndrome and headed straight for Panicked Parent Crisis Mode.
"The squirt just has a cold," Emma had tried to tell them as they hurriedly packed a diaper bag for the trip down to the hospital.
They'd paid her no mind, which she'd expected. The need for a medical professional to check out their little prince was as much for their peace of mind as it was Neal's well-being.
And when they'd returned to the apartment an hour later and sheepishly informed their daughter and grandson that Dr. Whale's official diagnosis was rhinovirus – aka the common cold – Emma hadn't had the heart to give them an I told you so.
The twenty-four hours since had been filled with home cold treatments, flustered parents, a very cranky baby, and a big sister who was trying to help while also trying not to step on anyone's toes. Little Neal was still so young that modern medicine was more dangerous to him than his illness, so Emma got to see firsthand how her colds more than likely would have been treated if she'd grown up in the Enchanted Forest.
Her parents had bathed her little brother to keep any and all fevers at bay, kept him hydrated, and, when the congestion became too much for his little respiratory system, they began suctioning his nose. And holy crap, having his nose suctioned was nowhere near top of the list of Things Prince Neal Enjoyed.
His wails were sending tears to his sister's eyes. If she wanted to go in there and scoop him up and just hold him until he quieted, she couldn't imagine the mental agony her parents were in. She pushed herself up from the sofa and crossed the apartment to her parents' room.
A quick peek into the room from the doorway proved her fears were well founded. The poor little squirt was squirming in David's grip. David had paled visibly at having to hold his son down, and Snow was on the verge of tears. "I know, little prince," she was murmuring as she tried to get the tip of the syringe in his nose. (He, of course, was having none of it and kept turning away from her.) "But all of that stuff needs to come out so you can sleep."
"You know," Emma said over the sound of her brother's wails, "I have memories of taking Henry into the bathroom with me and running the shower to let the steam help clear his head."
Snow and David stared at each other, blinked, and then looked at Emma. "Of course!" Snow cried, setting the bulb syringe down. David picked Neal up and held him close, murmuring comforts in his little ear. "We even did that with you when you had that awful cold just after we returned from the Enchanted Forest!"
Before Emma had the chance to even formulate a reply, her parents filed out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. Snow turned on the shower as David perched on the closed lid of the toilet. Then Snow closed the door so they could make their own personal steam room.
Emma smiled. Were her poor parents not so exhausted and worried, they'd have thought of the steam room on their own.
Only when Neal stopped wailing did Emma reclaim her seat on the couch. Barely ten minutes later, the shower turned off and Snow and David emerged from the bathroom, a soundly sleeping Neal curled up in David's arms. Emma winced again; her parents looked every bit as exhausted as the squirt.
As one, the two of them slipped back into the bedroom to tuck their sick little boy in for the night. Or if not the night, at the very least the next couple of hours. He didn't sleep through the night yet normally, never mind with a cold. Emma heard the humidifier start up a minute or so later and then her poor parents tiptoed from the bedroom.
"The poor little baby," Snow said as she eased down on the sofa next to her daughter. "I hate that he's sick."
"As do I," David agreed as he plopped down on the coffee table. That was yet another indication of her parents' exhaustion, by the way; Snow was actually allowing someone to sit on the coffee table. "I wish I could just snap my fingers and make him better."
Emma did, too. Her little brother's suffering tore at her heart. What was even more awful was that she was the only person in the apartment who actually could snap her fingers and make him better, if her magic had worked its way up to healing yet.
It hadn't. She'd tried ... more than once. No dice.
Seeing her parents now made her think back to all the colds and sniffles and fevers Henry had when she was raising him. The memories may not have been real but they certainly felt real enough. "It's such a hard thing watching your kid be sick," she agreed.
"No matter how old the child is," Snow said, a weary smile on her face as she tucked a lock of Emma's hair behind her ear. "I still remember how scary it was when you had pneumonia."
Sweet Jesus, that felt like a lifetime ago. Emma only had the vaguest of memories of the worst of her bout with pneumonia. Mostly she remembered those couple of days after her release from the hospital. Her parents had pretty much confined her to her bed with field trips every now and again to the couch. It had been annoying as all get-out but, as with most annoying things, her parents had been right. She'd needed the rest.
"I can imagine," she said softly. From what little she did remember, she'd been really sick. Dangerously high fever, fluid in her lungs, the whole nine yards.
Before anyone had a chance to say anything else, they heard a key turning in the front door. The door slowly opened to reveal a trying-to-be-silent Henry, home from his day with Regina. Emma waved to him, and he smiled. "I didn't hear baby cries," he murmured by way of a greeting, "so I thought I should be quiet."
Emma smiled at her son's thoughtfulness. Snow and David smiled in relief. "Good thinking, kid," she said.
After hanging up his jacket and scarf, he joined his grandfather on the coffee table. Emma held her breath, waiting for Snow to realize she now had two family members using the non-sitting furniture as seats, but it never happened. A glance over at her proved that she was definitely too tired to care; she was already half-asleep.
Feeling a weird sense of daughterly duty, Emma shifted closer to Snow. The smile that lit Snow's face when she did so was worth the leap of faith – and the mushiness that ensued. Snow wrapped her arm around Emma's shoulders, taking full advantage of the cuddle.
"Did you have a good day?" Emma asked Henry.
"I had an awesome day," he said excitedly. Since things in Storybrooke had been calm for a while – well, a few days, really, but in Storybrooke, a few days was a friggin' streak that no one dared comment on lest the streak end – Regina had started taking Henry down to the stables for riding lessons. They hadn't done much more than walk around the ring but the kid absolutely adored it.
"I'm glad," Emma smiled.
A few minutes passed with not even a peep from the squirt. Emma felt Snow relax beside her; he was going to stay asleep for the next little while, then. Henry headed upstairs to change into his pajamas, and Emma decided to turn on the television.
"Does anyone care what we watch?" she asked as David squeezed in on her other side.
"No," her parents said in unison.
She was right there with them. As a matter of fact, she highly doubted any of them would last more than a half hour into anything she put on. The squirt had run their parents ragged throughout the day and his cranky fussing had kept everyone awake most of the previous night, Emma and Henry included.
When Henry came back downstairs, he settled on the floor at Emma's feet. He didn't have any objection to what was on the television, either, so Emma set the remote control down next to her and tried to focus on the flickering images on the TV.
Some time later, she found herself blinking awake to her baby brother's wails. David shifted next to her before standing and groggily mumbling, "I'll get him."
He stumbled over Henry, who was curled up asleep on the floor.
Emma knew she should get her kid to bed but in all honesty, she was too tired to move. Instead, she snuggled closer to Snow, who sleepily tightened her arm around her daughter's shoulders.
Just as Emma was drifting off again, something about her mother's breathing caught her attention. It sounded … nasally.
Oh no.
"Mom?" Emma asked softly as she pulled out of her mom's embrace and sat up straight. "Do you feel all right?"
Snow blinked her eyes open at Emma's movement. "Aside from needing a good night's sleep? Yes. Why?"
And then she sneezed. Three times in a row.
Emma winced, which turned into a full-brown cringe when she heard her father sneezing in the bedroom. Oh no indeed. Things were about to get so much more exhausting, weren't they? "I hate to tell you, Mom, but I think you and Dad are coming down with the squirt's cold."
Snow's eyes widened. She opened her mouth to deny it but another sneeze escaped instead. As she brought her hand down from her mouth, she involuntarily sniffled and then groaned. "I hate to agree with you on this, sweetheart, but I think you're right."
This, Emma realized, was the corollary to the first rule of babies: when the baby got sick, everyone got sick.