Emma listlessly poked at her bacon and cheese omelet. It was more than likely delicious because her dad made the best bacon and cheese omelets in the history of bacon and cheese omelets but she didn't know for sure because she couldn't taste the damn thing.
Well, she could sorta kinda taste it. Mostly she tasted the blue cheese crumbles and the salty deliciousness of the bacon. Everything else just tasted like … nothing.
It sucked. Colds sucked, and she hated them more than she'd ever hated anything in her life. (All right, that may have been a bit of hyperbole, but still.)
"Is everything all right?" Snow asked, bouncing a cranky Neal in her arms as she watched Emma pushed what remained of her omelet around her plate.
"Yeah," Emma sighed. "I just wish my taste buds worked properly."
"I hear that one." Snow eased down in the chair across from Emma, her own aching body weary of standing. "I couldn't taste my breakfast, either."
"Being sick sucks," Emma grumbled, slicing off another bite of omelet and popping it into her mouth as if in defiance.
Over her head, Snow and David exchanged an amused glance. Their daughter was an absolutely horrible patient, as they'd come to discover during both her previous cold and her later bout with pneumonia. She had no real patience for being sick and thus became annoyed and irritable, which they had to admit was simultaneously somewhat maddening and rather funny.
Apparently, the Princess of Crankiness had once again decided to grace them with her presence.
With only about a quarter of it left to go, Emma gave up on the omelet . She set her fork down, admitting defeat, and wrapped her hands around the edges of the plate to clear her place. As fast as his own cold would allow, David swooped in and slipped the dish out of her hands.
Part of her was annoyed because holy crap, she was not an invalid and she could certainly carry her own damn plate to the sink. A larger part of her was infinitely grateful that she didn't have to expend the energy to get up, walk over to the sink, and walk back. She smiled a thank you up at her father, who smiled back while placing his hand on her shoulder and squeezing.
It was such a dad comforting his little girl move that tears pricked Emma's eyes.
Get a freaking grip, she commanded herself, blinking rapidly and sniffling. Snow bit back a knowing smirk and Emma rolled her eyes. Being sick was totally screwing with her emotions, and she didn't like it one bit.
When David joined Emma and Snow at the table, Emma asked, "How are you guys feeling?"
Her parents exchanged a glance, one of those shared looks during which they spoke a hundred words without saying anything at all. "We're hanging in there," David said. "How about you?"
"The same," Emma shrugged, though some small, young part of her wished she could melt into her parents' embrace and let them comfort her like they should have been able her entire life.
Again her parents exchanged a glance, one that was loving and longing and made Emma's heart leap in her chest. Apparently they wished they could comfort her, too.
A sudden sneeze escaped Snow's lips. She managed to muffle it but not quite in time not to startle little Neal out of an almost-sleep, which led to cranky baby wails. "I'm so sorry, baby," Snow murmured, sudden tears welling in her eyes as she bounced him.
Once again Emma could see the effects of their shared illness on her mother, the exhaustion and cold-induced desperation fueling her overblown guilt at inadvertently causing her sick baby to cry. The bouncing didn't calm him and when Snow's tears spilled over, Emma pushed herself up from her chair and stepped behind her mother's. Bending down and reaching over Snow's shoulder, Emma ran her forefinger down her baby brother's forehead. "Shh," she whispered.
Two swipes down the forehead later, the squirt was calm. Snow and David exchanged a look of wonder and bewilderment. The magic touch only worked that swiftly for Emma. They both used it, of course, and it did work but for some reason, it took the two of them longer to achieve the same effect. No one had the slightest idea why, least of all Emma.
"Thank you," Snow murmured, smiling up at her daughter.
"You're welcome," Emma said, smiling back.
Neal's eyes suddenly fixed on his big sister. Smiling, David said, "Looks like someone wants some sister time."
A glance over at her mother proved that Snow was more than willing to give her babies a little sibling time. Smiling herself, Snow held Neal out to her daughter so she could take the baby from her. Emma settled her baby brother in her arms, looking down at his big teary eyes. "Hey, squirt," she murmured.
He grasped her finger and held on tight. Emma smiled, her heart warming as she ran the pad of her thumb over his tiny fingers. How one little person could fill her with so much love and such a deep sense of protection was something she would never understand. No villain or monster – human or otherwise – was going to hurt her baby brother, not if she had anything to say about it.
With her gaze holding her brother's, she was completely oblivious to the loving smile her parents shared at the simple sight of their two babies being together.
After a minute or so, standing became too much for Emma's sick body so she carried Neal over to the couch. Her parents followed, eager to be out of the uncomfortable kitchen chairs and to let the soft couch cushions envelop their aching muscles. Much like the night before, the three of them on that little couch was a tight squeeze but there they stayed.
And somewhere inside Emma, the little girl who'd never been able to cuddle up with her parents when she was sick was jumping for joy.
Eventually they heard the telltale sound of Henry turning his key in the deadbolt. The guys were back from the pharmacy run … and apparently Henry was taking his promise to his mother very seriously. He was already wearing his surgical mask and was cajoling Killian to put on his.
The pirate eventually put the mask on, his annoyance with the entire exercise evident in his eyes. "Must I wear this infernal contraption, Swan?" he asked as he set the bag from the pharmacy – which looked awfully bulky for a couple of masks and some cold pills – on the kitchen table. "I feel ridiculous."
"You look ridiculous," Emma snickered by way of a response.
He shot her a look.
"You have to wear it," she insisted. "I don't want you getting sick, too."
He muttered something under his breath that Emma didn't quite catch; something about masquerade masks not making him look or feel anywhere near as ridiculous. Emma swallowed a chuckle.
Across the room, Henry dug into the bag and pulled out a small cardboard box. "Look what Sneezy had, Gramma!" he said as he stepped over to the couch and handed Snow the item. A peek over her shoulder revealed a package of little plastic sleeves that fit over the tip of the thermometer like the ones at doctor's offices. "Now you guys can take your temperatures without sharing each other's germs!"
It was such a thoughtful purchase that Emma didn't have the heart to remind him that they'd already shared each other's germs, which was why they were all sick.
"Good thinking, kid," David said, smiling at his grandson.
Henry beamed, then picked up the thermometer from where Killian had left it on the end table. "I'm going to disinfect this and then I want all of you to take your temperatures."
"I just took mine," Emma reminded him.
"Don't care. You're taking it again."
Emma sighed, her eyes flicking to Killian for help. He arched an eyebrow at her and remained silent, mostly because he believed Henry had the right idea but partly as retribution for making him wear the mask.
God, they were both worse than her parents! "Who the hell put the kid in charge?" Emma grumbled as soon as Henry was out of earshot.
Everyone shared a chuckle at that, Snow and David meeting each other's gaze over Emma's head. Clearly the Princess of Crankiness had yet to leave the building.
Killian picked up the blanket that Emma had kicked to the floor when she'd gotten up and handed it to David, who spread it out across the three of them. Just as they got settled, Henry returned with a clean thermometer already in a plastic sleeve. "You first, Gramma."
Clearly humoring her grandson, Snow took the thermometer from him and stuck it in her mouth. While they were waiting for the result, Henry crossed the room and withdrew a box of latex gloves from the bag.
So that was why it was so bulky. While Emma admired the kid's foresight and initiative, that was also the last time she was going to send him shopping with Killian because clearly the pirate had just allowed him to buy whatever he wanted – or, more than likely, whatever he said they absolutely one hundred percent needed.
She arched an eyebrow at Killian. He shrugged at her, wrinkling his brow in slight confusion as if he didn't understand why she was questioning the purchases. Yep, door number two it was.
The thermometer beeped, and Snow removed it from her mouth. Her reasonably good humor faded, however, when she looked down at the display. Emma peeked over her shoulder to see what was wrong, and sure enough, her mom had a low-grade fever, too. "100.3," she frowned. "I don't feel like I have a fever."
Emma knew how she felt. She didn't feel like she had a fever, either.
"That's barely a fever," David assured her as she turned off the device. "Another dose of cold medicine will knock it right back down to where it should be."
"Hey, wait a second," Emma interjected, frowning at her father. "Mine's only two-tenths of a degree higher than hers. How come hers is 'barely a fever' but mine needs to be watched?"
"Because yours is that much closer to a hundred and one," David replied, a teasing grin on his lips.
Emma huffed. Snow, Henry, and Killian swallowed chuckles.
Wearing a pair of his new gloves, which David had better make good use of while working on the truck in the future, Henry slipped the thermometer from Snow's hand and stripped off the sleeve. He slid a new one on and handed the device to David. "Your turn, Grandpa."
With the same amount of humoring as Snow but also a tiny bit of hesitation, David took the thermometer and stuck the tip under his tongue. It seemed as if everyone was waiting on his result, and when they finally got it, they were in for a second surprise. "A hundred even," Emma read aloud over her father's shoulder.
"Two doses of cold medicine, then," Snow said, smiling gently at her husband. "One for me and one for me."
Henry slipped the third sleeve on the thermometer and handed it to Emma. Even though she felt it was ridiculous to take her temperature so soon after already taking it once, she popped it into her mouth without an argument. They already knew she had a fever; what the hell else was a second reading going to tell them?
Apparently it could tell them a lot. When the thermometer beeped, she, too, was unpleasantly surprised by the reading. "It's gone up to 101.1," Snow murmured, frowning.
Henry and Killian exchanged a troubled glance as Snow and David shared a similar look over Emma's head.
"I … I just ate," Emma reminded her.
"That omelet had gone cold long before you finished poking at it," David said gently. "I don't think we can blame this on hot food."
All right, seriously, what the hell?
"So … three doses of cold medicine?" Henry asked.
"Yes, please," Snow said, unable to resist the urge to press her palm against her grown-up baby's forehead.
As Henry ducked into the bathroom to retrieve the cold pills – someone had put them away while Emma was sleeping – and Killian stepped into the kitchen to pour three glasses of water at the sink, David gently slipped Neal from his sister's arms. Emma let him take him; if her temperature was rising, she didn't want to risk reinfecting the poor kid.
Although her temperature was not at all fear-worthy, Emma could see the trepidation swimming in her parents' eyes. Figuring they were probably remembering how sick she was when she had pneumonia, she insisted, "Guys, I'm fine."
David and Snow both forced smiles for her benefit. "Of course, sweetheart," Snow said, sweeping a lock of hair out of her daughter's eyes.
Emma sighed. Her parents, who were sick themselves and worried about their sick infant son, were now worried about her. Well, even more worried about her than they were before. And now so were her kid and her pirate. Great, just great.
This totally sucked.
