Title: Adventures in Babysitting
Summary: "You two deserve some time to yourselves and I want to hang out with my baby brother, ear infection and all. You're not imposing on me, I offered my services. Neal will be fine, I will be fine, and you two are going to have to actually wait for a table if you don't leave right now."
Spoilers: Set post-3x22, "There's No Place Like Home."
Rating/Warning: K+, for language, mostly. Captain Swan & Charming Family fluff, because why not?
Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time and its characters were created by Eddie Kitsis and Adam Horowitz and are owned by ABC. Hiatus will be the death of me, however, so this is me trying to stay sane in the absence of new material.
Author's Note: I have no idea where this insistent little plotbunny came from, but it just lodged itself in my brain and refused to leave. For my own sanity, I had to indulge it. I had originally planned for this to be a oneshot but the plotbunny had other ideas, so it ended up being a four-chapter minific. Feedback thrills me to pieces! Enjoy. :)

"You know, we don't have to do this tonight, Emma."

Emma Swan heaved a quiet sigh while wishing she could go bang her head against the apartment's brick wall right behind her. That would have been far more painless than sitting through this argument again.

She'd had this very argument so many times over the last five days that she'd actually lost count. Well, it wasn't so much an argument, per se. It was more like she'd caught her parents in a particularly weak moment, and both Snow and David had been trying their hardest to get out of it ever since.

"We do have to do this tonight," Emma argued wearily because holy freakin' crap, one would think she was trying to force them to rob a bank or something, for all the backpedaling they'd been doing. "We agreed that since Henry was going to Regina's for the night, it would be a perfect time for me to watch the little squirt while you and David go out to dinner." She kind of loved that her affectionate nickname for her little brother had become so commonplace that nobody batted an eye at it anymore. "An actual, cheesy married-couple dinner with candlelight and soft instrumental music and no same-age daughter and no newborn son. We agreed to it. I believe I even have it in writing."

What she actually had was a list of Storybrooke restaurants in Snow's handwriting that she and David had been meaning to try – who knew there were enough for a list?! – and Emma's own scribbled notes listing the date and time of the reservation she'd had to make herself at one of the restaurants – chosen at random – because they were very clearly never going to do it themselves. That, however, was beside the point.

"Yes, but we agreed to it five days ago," Snow returned, making Emma roll her eyes. She knew what was coming next, she just knew it. "Your brother didn't have an ear infection five days ago."

And there it was. "Actually, he did," Emma deadpanned. "We just didn't know he did."

"Emma–"

"No, seriously. Yeah, the squirt has an ear infection, but you know what? He's still going to have an ear infection whether the two of you eat dinner here or go out to eat." She softened her voice for her next point, because she knew her mother's hesitance was coming from a place of concern. "And he's still going to have an ear infection whether or not the two of you take a couple hours off and let me handle it."

Snow didn't know what to say to that. Emma smiled to herself. Victory was within her reach, so close she could almost touch it.

But her mother still had an ace up her sleeve, apparently. "He's not the only one I'm worried about, though." The corners of her mouth turned up in a gentle smile. "The ear infection has made him abnormally cranky."

"And you're worried he's going to run me ragged," Emma breathed, light dawning on Marblehead.

Now it was Emma's turn to be speechless. Snow's hesitation wasn't coming from a desire to stay home and take care of her sick son as she'd thought. Not completely, anyway. Mixed in there too was a desire not to dump the care of a sick, needy, cranky baby on his big sister.

Snow's concern for her was … touching. So touching that Emma felt tears pricking the backs of her eyes and knew she needed to regain the upper hand now before she caved.

She'd made her parents reservations, for crying out loud. They were going.

Emma cleared her throat and looked her mother in the eye. "I'm going to be fine for a couple of hours, too. We're both going to be just fine. I can handle a cranky baby. I can feed him and I can give him his medicine. I can play with him if he feels like playing, and I can have him sound asleep by the time the two of you come home. You and David need some married people time, and I need some big sister/baby brother time. So, we're doing this tonight, and I don't want to hear another word about it."

Now Snow looked touched, and once again, Emma smiled to herself. The scales had tipped back in Emma's favor, and it was all because she had nailed that little speech, if she did say so herself.

Snow took a moment to further consider the proposal in front of her but just as Emma suspected would be the case, mother eventually relented to persuasive daughter. "Have I ever told you how wonderful you are?" she asked, reaching up to cup Emma's cheek in her palm.

Those damn tears were pricking the backs of Emma's eyes again. Deciding she quickly needed to wrest back her emotional control, she went in for the joke. "Damn straight I'm wonderful, and don't you forget it."

Snow smirked as she ran a gentle thumb along Emma's cheek. "I wouldn't dream of it."

Two hours later, Emma was trying her damnedest to usher her very nicely dressed parents out the apartment door. It was not an easy task, what with a sleeping Neal settled in her arms, Snow telling her for the hundredth time where the squirt's ear drops were, and her father telling her for about the fiftieth time that if she needed them for anything, she could call and they'd come right home.

Seriously, head against the brick wall. She shifted Neal in her arms to free one hand, which she used to grab her father's dinner jacket. "Go," she said, practically shoving the jacket into his hand. "Eat. I know where his ear drops are and I'm not going to need to call you."

"Thank you for offering to do this, Emma," David said, shrugging on his jacket before holding Snow's coat for her. "It was really a lovely gesture but we don't have to–" He stopped short when Emma groaned.

Oh, hell no. After working so hard to win this argument with her mother, she was not about to repeat it with her father. "Oh my God, not you, too! Yes, we do have to do this tonight. You two deserve some time to yourselves and I want to hang out with my baby brother, ear infection and all. You're not imposing on me, I offered my services. Neal will be fine, I will be fine, and you two are going to have to actually wait for a table if you don't leave right now."

She'd finally, finally gotten both of them into their coats and to the door. Snow opened the door and stepped over the threshold. Just when Emma thought she was home free, her mother shattered that illusion. "We won't be long."

Oh, sweet Jesus. Yes, yes they were going to be long, because Emma wasn't about to let them rush through their dinner date. "I do not expect you back here for at least three hours. At least, you got me? You guys are supposed to enjoy this evening, and you can't exactly enjoy it if you both end up with heartburn from rushing through the meal."

Emma glanced up at the clock; it was just coming up on five-thirty. Their reservation was at six. They really needed to move. "Three. Hours," she reiterated. "If you try to come home any earlier than nine, I will kick you right back out again."

Snow and David exchanged a troubled, pained glance. Emma's breath caught in her throat at the sheer love and concern in their eyes, concern that she recognized as not only for Neal but for her, too.

And then it hit her: this was the first time either one of them had left Neal for more than a few minutes at a time. It was also the first time since Emma's return from the past that they were leaving her for a decent length of time.

Separation anxiety swirled in their eyes and was now abundantly clear to her on their faces. Emma recognized now that it was that separation anxiety that had made them seemingly unable to take the steps necessary to leave both their babies and take some time for themselves.

"Seriously," Emma said, softening her voice, "we're both going to be fine. I know that my saying that isn't going to convince you, so how about I just say that if we're not fine, you guys will be the first ones I call."

At that, her parents visibly relaxed. "Thanks again, kiddo," David said as he stepped over the threshold and stood next to his wife.

The pet name made Emma smile. (Who knew that Emma would grow to like pet names? If someone had told her two years ago that one day she'd actually like being called kiddo, she would have had the person committed.)

"We'll be back no earlier than nine," Snow amended, making the concession to spare her daughter's sanity. "Help yourself to anything you want for dinner."

Again, Emma thought she was home free. Again, she was mistaken. After a beat, Snow asked, "I told you where his medicine is, didn't I?"

Head, meet wall. "Yeah, you did," Emma sighed. "Now go! Your reservation isn't going to hold itself."

After a couple more minutes of stalling, Snow and David finally headed down the stairs. Emma closed the door behind them and released a heavy breath of relief. "Our parents are impossible, squirt," she murmured to her sleeping brother, smiling down at his little face.

Still, she couldn't find it within herself to be angry. They'd only been so annoying and so hesitant to leave because they loved their kids so much. Truthfully, she would have put up with thousands of those arguments if it meant having her loving parents in her life.

"They're impossible, all right," she repeated to her little brother, "but they're also the best parents we could ask for."

Since Neal was sleeping peacefully, Emma crossed the room and gently set him down in his bassinet. Then, after making sure he was going to stay asleep, she made her way into the kitchen to comb through the cabinets and decide what she wanted for her own supper. With Henry at Regina's and her brother's dinner being a bottle, she was only cooking for one.

She'd just decided on ziti and a salad – because it was quick and easy – when her baby brother started to whimper. She walked back over to the bassinet and sure enough, he was squirming and one little balled fist was swiping at his right ear, the one that was infected. "It's all right, squirt," she murmured, rubbing her hand across his belly to let him know that she knew he was hurting and that she was going to get something to help him. "I'll be right back with your drops."

Emma had taken no more than three steps towards the bathroom when her brother started wailing. She doubled back to the bassinet and scooped him up, resting his stomach on her chest and his head on her shoulder and rubbing his back in an effort to soothe him. "I know, Neal, I know," she murmured as she carried him into the bathroom.

And she did know. One of her earliest memories was actually of an ear infection she had when she was about three. Memory actually might have been too strong a term for it; it was nothing more than a flash of lying on a sofa, crying, and holding one little hand over her throbbing ear.

Her poor baby brother was in that pain now, an ache so painful that she could remember it from a time in early childhood most adults had long forgotten. Her heart ached when she saw his little fist continue to swipe at his ear, an instinctual effort to soothe the pain in any way he could.

The drops were in the medicine cabinet, right where her mother had said they would be. She shook the bottle and then squeezed it in her hand for a minute or two to warm the medicine up; the last thing she needed was to cause her baby brother even more pain by dropping room temperature medicine into his already sore ear.

The second she tried to put the drops in, though, Neal's crying grew louder. He turned his head out of her reach whenever she got near his ear with the dropper. After a couple of tries, she even tried settling him down on his back on the sofa, thinking that maybe all she needed was two free hands.

Neal was having none of it. Emma didn't know if he knew that the dropper meant ear drops and he didn't like them or if he just didn't want her having any contact whatsoever with his ear, but he was having absolutely none of it.

"I know it hurts, squirt, but if you just let me get these in, it won't hurt anymore," she said almost helplessly.

Wonderful. She was reduced to attempting to reason with a newborn now.

Heaving an exasperated sigh, Emma took stock of the situation. What she really needed was another hand to hold the squirt still.

Henry was at Regina's, so he was out. She was not about to call her parents because damn it, they were going to have a single evening to themselves, come hell or high water. Besides, she only needed someone for like, a second; once she got the drops into Neal's ear, the pain would subside and he'd stop crying.

And then it came to her. She picked up her crying brother, strode over to the counter with a purpose, and grabbed her cell phone.

Emma just hoped he had his phone on him. It was an old phone of hers, so it didn't do much beyond make calls and send texts, but it suited their purposes. Truth be told, even that was a bit too much sometimes; the technology was still so new to him that more often than not, he completely forgot to take it with him when he went out.

The stars must have been aligned correctly tonight or something, because he answered on the second ring. "Swan?"

"Killian?" she asked over her brother's wailing. "Listen, I was wondering if you could come over here for a minute ..."