Note: I laughed at the scene of Emma stealing the Poptarts so I tried to recreate that a bit here. She was just so adorably awkward that I couldn't resist.
Magic was not something that ever felt that natural to Emma, even if she was born with the abilities that had made quite a few people marvel. Eyes closed, she concentrated on her ability and tried to feel that familiar warmness that surged through her body before her magic took hold, but there was no warm sensation. Instead she felt as though the room was spinning and for the third time that day she questioned why her stomach was lurching and her breakfast was threatening to make a repeat performance.
The thin parchment practically disintegrated in her hands as she delicately clutched the spell that Regina had suggested she study that day. The words were foreign to her, but Regina had spelled them out on a piece of paper in a phonetic fashion so that she might sound them out properly. Expelling another puff of air from her lungs, Emma closed her eyes and tried to envision a ring of protective light around her, but it was no use.
"That's not quite it, Mom," Henry said, crunching down on a carrot stick that he had been snacking on that early afternoon. "I think it's supposed to do something."
"Thanks for the advice," Emma told him, frowning back at the parchment. "Regina gave this to me, but I haven't been able to make it work yet."
"She gave you homework?" Henry asked, laughing that his mother looked so angrily perturbed at the idea of homework.
She dropped the parchment onto a pile of similar papers on the kitchen table and places her hands on her hips. "I don't have time for this," she told him. "I give up. Tell Regina I gave up." She looked at the clock on the microwave and frowned. "I'm meeting your grandmother for lunch and a shopping trip. Want to join us or are you okay here?" It was only a half day of school because of some sort of training seminar for the teachers.
"I've got a hot date with a video game and maybe some friends later," Henry announced, throwing himself backwards over the couch and waving an arm to her. "Have fun."
Emma rolled her eyes at him. "Try and do some of your own homework and blink or something. Your eyes will fall out of your head if you stare at that screen too long." She grabbed the jacket that she had tossed over the back of a chair and the list of items that Killian had requested from under the magnet on the refrigerator before rushing out the door and down to her yellow car.
Taking a deep breath, Emma headed toward the center of town, glancing at the clock on her dash she realized she was not completely late and that she could run that errand after all. Just a quick run in the pharmacy would not take more than a minute or two and then she could meet her mother and brother. She was just about to turn onto the main road when her phone sounded in the seat beside her.
Her mother was waiting on her outside of the pharmacy, an apologetic look on her face. "I'm sorry about lunch," she said, rubbing Neal's back in small circles. "I got caught up in a meeting and he's been fussy all day. I thought I might grab a snack from in here. Don't hate me?"
"It's fine," Emma reassured her mother, dropping a kiss on both her family members' cheeks before wheeling a cart down the first aisle. "I lost track of time myself." Looking a bit worried, Emma mapped out the store in her mind, wondering if she had enough time to grab the items on her list and something extra.
Emma had lived in cities both big and small before, but almost all of them had at least one large supermarket for shopping. Storybrooke was not like that. The aisles of the pharmacy were narrow and only offered a few grocery items among the hygiene and medical products. However, Killian had only requested a few items for the dinner he was planning to prepare for Emma and her parents that evening. It had become a thing with them, as Killian seemed to enjoy the process of cooking and loved to surprise people with his abilities in any arena. She loved the way his eyes would light up whenever anyone complimented that particular talent.
"What can I bring tonight?" Mary Margaret asked as she attempted to keep her son from grabbing the colorful packages off the shelves. "I could do a dessert or something?"
Emma picked up a bag of potato chips, which was not on the list but seemed to be calling to her with the flavor of salt and vinegar. "I don't know that he has a dessert planned," she said absently, her index finger running along the list. "He's more of a chef than a baker."
"You do realize how odd it is that Killian Jones, a/k/a Captain Hook, enjoys cooking," Mary Margaret said as her daughter scanned the shelves for a container of oregano. "It must be odd for you."
"My life is the definition of odd," Emma agreed, picking up the red capped container and throwing it in the cart. "And as far as cooking goes, it is a better habit than some of his hobbies. It's cheaper than the weekly poker games with the guys from his crew." Emma was actually not that upset with Killian's nights out with his former crew members and new friends. She would throw him an annoyed look when things ran too late or when he came staggering in reeking of rum or some other drink, but she was happy that he was enjoying his life in Storybrooke. Too often she had found herself worrying that he might regret his decision to have settled in this realm.
"It's a good hobby," Mary Margaret admitted, thinking of how she had found herself talking to him about different cooking shows on television or about a recipe that she had found in one of the magazines at her office. "But I don't think he'll give up the poker games any time soon. He has invited David the last few times."
Emma groaned and scanned her list again. "That's all kinds of awkward to think about him losing money to my father or vice versa."
Her little brother swipes at a package of dried pasta and sends it to the ground as Mary Margaret looks apologetically at the clerk glaring at them. "He's a bit hard to shop with," she said as Emma stooped to pick up the box. "I'm sorry."
"He's just two," Emma reminded her mother. "He's not old enough to find annoying. Besides he's a cutie." She reached out and ran her hand along his chubby cheek and smiled. "All toddlers are curious."
Mary Margaret resisted the urge to roll her eyes at her daughter and shifted her son's weight in her arms. "Spoken like a woman who doesn't have a toddler to chase around 24/7 and doesn't have to worry about Cheerios being crushed into every piece of furniture or stepping on toys in the middle of the night when you get up to go to the bathroom."
Emma smiled faintly, pulling her hand back from her brother's cherub face. "Is that your way of asking me to babysit more often?" She and Killian had tried to offer to watch the little boy, but many times that resulted in two exhausted adults and a hyper toddler winning the day.
"I wouldn't be that subtle," her mother said, wrinkling her nose distastefully. "Now let's get the rest of our stuff and let me get to the bakery. I think your husband and mine would enjoy one of those German chocolate cakes."
Emma was pushing her cart through the last aisle when she stopped suddenly, her mouth pursing in concentration and the list she had been using as her guide falling to her purse. "Mom," she said a bit shakily. "I forgot to see if they had any sea salt. Would you mind?"
Mary Margaret agreed and hurried off in the direction of the spices, wondering if the limited inventory would include such an item. Even from two aisles away Emma could hear her brother's cries of, "Mine, mine, mine," as he probably made another grab for some item that caught his eye.
Knowing she had only moments before her mother's return, Emma crossed the narrow aisle to the feminine products and stared hopelessly at the various brands and items. She looked furtively up and down the aisle, a move that she had perfected in her teen years when she was becoming adept at stealing.
Trying to ignore obvious question of why there were 12 different brands of pregnancy tests and only one type of soda in the store, Emma grabbed one from the middle shelf and stuffed it under some of the items in her cart. Now she had to figure out how to pay for it without her mother seeing.
Her mother rounded the corner and dropped the container of salt into the cart along with another package. Emma glanced at it. "Are you sure you're alright for dinner?" she asked. "Is your stomach still bothering you?"
"Now and again," her mother said. "It's more of an indigestion thing so I'll be careful."
***KESC***
Killian glanced skyward as he walked to the last few feet from the street to the apartment building, appraising the weather and enjoying a bit of the fresh air that he missed sometimes being land bound rather than on the sea. He could hear the door of his father-in-law's truck clatter shut and the other man's shoes slap the concrete as he caught up to him.
"You're cooking dinner and it's not fish," David Nolan said incredulously, the package from the butcher shop swinging from over his arm. "Color me impressed."
Killian chuckled and shot a look at David. "I do know more than just fish," he said. "But I get it. It's the pirate thing, right?"
"The sailing thing," David clarified. "Your right though, I assumed." The two men made their way of the stairs and were hanging their coats up in the entry closet a few minutes later. David knew that was Killian's tendency, as he was the more organized of the couple. Emma was not exactly messy, but his daughter was not one who organized obsessively or even bothered with hanging her favorite jacket anywhere but the back of her chair. He'd seen more than one argument between the two when Killian had picked up behind her and she'd accused him of being OCD.
"You're going to love it," Killian said as he unpacked the bag. "A nicely seared tenderloin with twice baked potatoes. And if I know my mother-in-law, a cake for dessert." Leaning forward, he read the note from Henry that the boy was headed to a friend's for the afternoon and that he had already texted his mother.
David dug through the crisper drawer in the refrigerator to dig out the fresh vegetables that were kept there, picking out just what was needed for a salad. The two men had what most would refer to as a friendly relationship, but there were still moments of strife and difficulty mostly because of Killian's relationship with Emma. David was an open and honest man, but the thoughts of the things that his son-in-law did to his daughter in the privacy of their own home was not something he wanted to consider.
"You've gotten things almost unpacked," David said, waving the blade of the knife at the more organized great room of the apartment. It was simply decorated, as Emma was not the type to go for ornate or cluttered. There were plush chairs and a couch, a few mementoes of Killian's seafaring ways, including a miniature replica of the Jolly Roger on the mantle of the fireplace, and a few framed photographs of family and loved ones strewn about. From the corner of his eye David could see one of the latest, a photo of Emma with both of her parents. It had been taken just moments before she had walked down the aisle at the wedding, her white dress just recently zipped and her makeup still fresh with no tears yet flowing from her eyes. Henry had taken the photo, joining them all a few moments later for one with his mother. David had a copy of the same one at the loft.
"Aye, if I left that task up to Emma, we'd be living out of boxes for next year," he said. "This way at least I can pretend we have everything under control." The two men set about getting dinner items ready, from marinating the meat to chopping the vegetables. As per their usual stance, they avoided conversations about Emma and stuck to more generic topics.
"The ship was just over the horizon when I saw her again, headed straight for us and with the canons already being loaded," Killian said as the two men took a break a little later. The small kitchen table had been turned into a diorama of sorts with Killian's glass signifying the Jolly Roger and the salt and pepper shakers as other ships in the battle. David held his own glass close to his chest to avoid it being a part of the drama. "Well my crew was panicked, but I ordered them to charge forward."
Both men were so engrossed in the reenactment that they did not hear their wives coming into the room. Mary Margret was lowering her son to the ground so that he could run on his chubby legs to his father. "Looks like you're busy," Emma said, placing her bags on the counter and smiling at her husband. "Already done?"
"As much as we could until you procured the rest of the items," Killian answered, standing from his chair and approaching the bags. He dug into one as she pulled another toward her.
"It's all there," she said. She pulled the pink and white box out of the bag and tried to roll it under her sweater, hoping that nobody was paying attention to her movements. "I'll be right back."