Author's Note: We all kept our toothbrushes handy, yes? Good, because you're going to need them for this. ;) Thank you all for the follows and favorites and reviews for this little plotbunny driven four-shot. You guys seriously rock.


A completely refreshed Snow and Charming climbed the stairs to their apartment. Their dinner had been leisurely and delicious but nowhere near three hours long, so they'd gone for a walk along the harbor afterward since Emma would have kicked them back out if they'd gone home. They'd talked about everything and nothing, reminisces from the past and hopes for the future. They'd talked about Neal and Emma and oh gods, their Emma, how amazing it was to have her back after losing her twice. How wonderful it was that she was allowing herself to relax around them and allowing them in. How amazing it was that she had finally come home.

Those few short hours had allowed them to reconnect with each other on a level that had sort of gotten lost in the sleeplessness and exhaustion of caring for their newborn son and the worry over their same-age daughter.

It had been a nice evening, to be sure, but they both were relieved when Charming had checked his watch to find that it was almost nine-thirty. Their Emma-imposed time limit was officially up and now they could get back to both of their children without fear of reprimand.

"Don't take this the wrong way, because I had a marvelous time and I think we need to do these little date nights more often," Snow said to her husband as he stuck the key in the deadbolt, "but I sure am glad to be home."

"I am too," Charming replied softly, smiling at her.

Snow smiled back. She'd known he would understand. Both of their children were under the same roof, and he was as eager to get back to their little family as she was.

The silence on the other side of the door made Snow let out a breath of relief. Throughout the entire evening, the fear of coming home to find Emma frantic and completely overwhelmed by her baby brother's illness had tugged at the back of her mind.

Charming turned the key in the lock, pushed the door open, and stepped aside to let Snow enter before him. She stepped over the threshold and was about to announce their presence but stopped short. A smile curled on her lips as she took in scene in front of her.

Both Emma and Hook were slumped on the sofa, sound asleep. Hook had his left arm resting on the arm of the sofa while his right was curled around Emma's shoulders. Emma's legs were pulled up underneath her as she leaned into the pirate's side, her head resting against his shoulder and the baby monitor still in her loose grip on her lap.

Snow glanced up at the clock. It was only ten of ten, over an hour from Emma's usual bedtime. Perhaps she'd assumed that Neal hadn't run Emma ragged a bit too soon. Emma and Hook, from the looks of it.

From behind her, Charming said, "Snow, what–"

"Shh," she replied, turning an amused smile on her husband and stepping aside so he could see past her into the living room.

His shoulders tensed at the sight of his baby girl sleeping quite comfortably in the pirate's arms, which forced Snow to swallow a chuckle. After the initial overprotective-father flash, however, a smile tugged at his lips as well. "I thought she said she was going to be fine," he murmured into his wife's ear, amusement clear as a bell in his voice.

"She did and she was," Snow murmured back, just as amused. The absence of the sounds of a fussing baby proved that Emma had successfully gotten her sick little brother off to sleep. "She must have had to call in reinforcements, though."

"Must have," he agreed with a smirk.

Charming eased the apartment door shut and hung both his and Snow's coats on the hook. Then they crept into their room to check on their sick baby boy. He was sleeping peacefully on his back, his little arms flung up on either side of his head. A gentle caress of his little forehead proved that even his low-grade fever was under control. "They did well," Charming murmured to Snow, his smile evident in his tone.

"They certainly did."

They both kissed their son good night and then tiptoed back out to the living room to figure out what to do about their other child. Neither Emma nor Hook was going to be comfortable curled up on the sofa for the night, but Emma looked so peaceful that Snow's heart clenched at the thought of waking her.

Her baby's comfort later won out over her serenity now. First things first: Snow slipped the baby monitor from her daughter's hand and set it on the coffee table beside Hook's hook. When Emma didn't stir at all, Snow moved on to Plan B. She eased down on the sofa next to her daughter and gave Emma's knee a gentle shake.

That got her to stir, her brow furrowing as her eyes slowly opened. Snow watched as her baby girl lifted her head and sat up straight, eyes dazedly searching the room. She waited until Emma's bleary gaze locked on hers before saying teasingly, "I thought your little brother wasn't going to run you ragged."

A little groan escaped her lips. "Ear infections suck," she mumbled groggily, making both Snow and Charming swallow chuckles.

Emma's movement roused Hook, who woke just as slowly as Emma did. After a moment, he guiltily removed his arm from around Emma's shoulders. Snow smiled to set him at ease. Charming would do enough parental threatening for the both of them; she supposed she could play the good parent tonight.

Plus, she couldn't deny how wonderful it was to see Emma relaxed and happy, and if Hook was the one who was making her happy ...

"Did you guys have a good dinner?" Emma asked. She didn't sound any more awake but she was rubbing her eyes to at least appear more awake.

"We did," Charming replied softly as he perched on the arm of the sofa next to Snow. "Thank you for pushing us to go, Emma."

Emma shrugged as if to say it was no big deal.

It was a big deal, though. She'd taken on her brother's illness just to give them some needed time to themselves, and clearly, her night hadn't gone as smoothly as theirs. "And how did things go here?" Snow asked, hiding a smile.

"The squirt doesn't like the ear drops and he really likes being held," Emma said through a yawn. "Other than that, piece of cake."

Snow and Charming again swallowed chuckles, and then Charming turned to Hook. The entire room held a collective breath, and Emma shifted away from him as if only just now realizing how close they were sitting. In front of her parents, no less!

After a tense beat, Charming said, "Thank you for helping out tonight, Hook."

Emma blinked at her father, clearly wondering if she was still asleep and dreaming that he hadn't threatened Hook within an inch of his life. The pirate smiled in relief. "Of course, mate."

Snow glanced from an exhausted Hook to a just as exhausted Emma and smirked in realization. Waking them had been for naught; neither of them was moving off that couch any time soon. At least she'd let them know they were relieved of their babysitting duties. Now, it was time to let them be together.

She gently patted Emma's knee as she stood up from the sofa and grabbed the baby monitor from the table. "We're going to call it a night. Thanks again for doing this, Emma."

"You're welcome," Emma replied through another yawn.

Deciding for the sake of Emma's pride to skip the good night kiss, she settled for giving her daughter a loving smile. Then she grabbed her husband's hand and dragged him back into their bedroom. "I'm not even remotely tired," he whispered to her as soon as they were out of earshot. "What are you–"

"Shh, you'll see," she said as she drew the curtain across the doorway.

She left the curtain open a slit and peeked back out into the living room. Just as she'd suspected, Hook and Emma curled back up on the sofa together. Hook once again wrapped his arm around Emma's shoulders as she relaxed into his embrace.

"I'm going to kill him," Charming muttered as he peeked over his wife's shoulder.

"No you're not," an amused Snow replied.

Her statement was a truth Charming came to realize a moment later when Hook, who was saying something to their daughter that neither one of them could hear, began running his fingers through Emma's hair. The action relaxed her so much that her eyes fluttered closed again. "I don't think I've ever seen her so … comfortable," he admitted, his voice low in awe.

"I don't think I have, either," Snow agreed.

And right then, her husband's overprotective-dad stance fell away. "In that case, maybe he's not so bad. Not a word of that to him, though … I have a reputation to uphold."

"Yes, darling," Snow chuckled. Then she slid the curtain all the way to the doorjamb, allowing their daughter and her pirate their privacy.


As soon as the prince and princess said good night, Killian sank further into the couch cushions and smiled when Emma followed his movements. The evening had been rougher on her than she'd really been expecting. From the physical exhaustion of holding the mobile to the emotionally draining memories from her own childhood she'd had to face all while caring for her ill younger brother, she'd had quite the eventful few hours.

He'd figured she would have wanted to go to bed herself at that juncture but she surprised him. "You know what would be really nice right about now?" she mumbled.

"What's that, love?"

"One of your stories."

A grin curled on his lips. "Then a story is what you shall have."

They'd come to discover that Emma enjoyed his stories of the sea, mostly because she liked trying to figure out how much of each story was the truth and how much was embellishment. Her ability to detect lies made her remarkably astute, and he delighted in trying to push as many trumped-up details as he could past her, which was practically none.

The story he decided to tell her while she rested her head on his shoulder and he ran his fingers through her hair – a relaxation on her part that made his heart race – was one of a rogue wave that had nearly capsized the Jolly Roger back when she was still the Jewel of the Realm. "This wave, Swan, it would have dwarfed the one we faced in Neverland. It was monstrous, taller than an ogre and a giant combined. It blotted out the horizon, and all any of us could see was wave."

He'd expected her to stop him at the obviously exaggerated ogre and giant line but she remained quiet. He glanced down, smiling when he saw that his story had worked a bit too well: Emma's eyes had closed. "Swan?"

"Mmm?"

"Do you want me to let you get some rest?"

"No." She fidgeted, forcing her eyes open. At first he thought she was trying to sit up but she once again surprised him by snuggling closer. "You're supposed to be telling me a story."

He hid a smirk at the vaguely accusatory tone of her voice. He had been telling her a story; she just hadn't heard any of it. "My mistake."

Her eyes drifted shut again as Killian's soft voice filled the room, weaving the same tale of the rogue wave since she hadn't heard it the first time. "It was my first storm at sea, and it was almost my last ..."

He kept talking, piling embellishment on top of embellishment. This time the wave was the size of an ogre standing on the shoulders of an ogre standing on the shoulders of a giant. Not that it mattered because he highly doubted Emma had heard a single word he'd said.

When he was finally out of breath – and story – he asked, "Emma?"

No response. He smiled; apparently the two of them were going to be spending the night out here. She was fast asleep, and he didn't want to move for fear of disturbing her.

Killian removed his arm from around her shoulders just long enough to draw the blanket down from the back of the couch and spread it out over the both of them. She stirred at the weight of the fabric but she didn't wake.

This wasn't exactly going to be the most comfortable night he'd ever spent but a night cuddled up with Emma Swan was completely worth the stiff muscles he was sure to have in the morning.

For a long moment, Killian just basked in the closeness with Emma, listening to her even breathing and resisting the urge to pinch himself because by gods, this was real. His own exhaustion got the better of him, though, and soon he was fighting sleep himself.

When his head nodded, his cheek coming to rest on the top of her head, he surrendered the fight, but not before murmuring, "Sleep tight, love."

And he smiled when just before sleep claimed him, he felt her shift against him, rousing slightly at the new contact. The smile grew wider when he heard her sleep-filled voice mumble, "You, too."