"Can you do something where Killian is super hungover and Emma takes care of him?"
Because we all need this right now. Set vaguely in the future.
He remembers rum and rum and not much of anything else.
(He briefly recalls how Will and Robin had dragged him into the Rabbit for a few drinks.)
"It's customary," Will had protested highly.
He had raised an eyebrow.
"Is that so?"
Robin had nodded in response.
He'd made a face but eventually agreed to it in the end.
"I'm sure Emma wouldn't mind a night off from you," Robin told him quietly with a small smile.
"Might even appreciate it," Will muttered under his breath.
"Oi!"
Robin had come to break it up with a roll of his eyes.
"We just want to offer our congratulations," he said, eyes bright. "It's not everyday a pirate and a saviour are expecting."
He'd snorted but grinned (as he always did when someone mentioned Emma was pregnant, he still couldn't believe it himself half the time) and butted in, "Former pirate."
"Take it from a former thief, those days are never behind you," Robin retorted, sarcasm and mockery filtering through his tone.
He shook his head, grinning to himself but he reached forward and patted Robin across the back.
"Where are we going then?"
"Where else?" Will grouched. "Not much other places to go to in a small town, is there?"
He shrugged, "I suppose not."
Now he thinks about it, he can remember Dave briefly making an appearance.
He groans as his eyes open, the light blinding him and he immediately slaps his arm over his eyes, muttering a low, "Turn the lights off."
He hears a snort from somewhere next to him.
"Those lights happen to be the sun, dummy," comes the retort, the voice that is so usually wonderful, now threatening to his head.
"Shh," he tells her, sloppily reaching forward with his left hand to press his index finger to her lips. "No talking."
He hears her magical laugh and he imagines she's just shaken her head.
He peeks through his fingers and she's grinning at him, laughing slightly.
"Rough night?" she asks.
He huffs but doesn't dignify it with a response but the way he furrows his eyebrows and how his forehead crumples slightly, wrinkles lining his forehead is enough of an indication of an answer.
Her eyes are bright - too bright - as she leans forward and she looks far too happy about his misery for his own liking but she rests her cool hands on his head, smoothing out the lines and it feels nice, the contrast of her cool hands on his heated skin.
"Better?"
He hums, eyes closing and he's close to drifting off again, the feeling of her fingers rubbing against his temples soothing when she speaks up.
"You're lucky you made it back in one piece last night."
His eyes flash open and he grimaces before shooting her a knowing smile.
"Pirate," he reminds her.
She snorts, "Or your lucky my dad drop by for a while."
"That too."
He feels her shuffle closer to him and he moves closer to her in response until his head is nestled in her lap and she has easier access to his pounding head.
He's almost purring as she rubs circles and he hears her giggle.
"Shush," he murmurs though it lacks force.
She giggles again - and it's such a lovely sight. Emma I have a thousand walls that you can't break down Swan, actually giggling.
His eyes open again and his head tips back further as he looks up, her curls hanging loosely in front of his face.
"How's our little one today?" he asks, head dipping back against her bump pointedly and voice gentle as it always is when he thinks about their child - they're going to have a baby-
-and he's going to be a dad and some days he still doesn't believe it.
Her smile is just as soft as his voice and her hand travels down, resting lightly over her stomach and resting in between strands of his hair.
"Think he's relieved you made it back in one piece," she teases.
He huffs, "We've been over this, Swan. She," he emphasises.
"He."
"She."
"Killian," she shoots him a playful glare, "It's going to be a boy."
His lips twitch despite himself, "We'll see."
She huffs, "Yes, we will."
He groans as a wave a nausea overtakes him, closing his eyes, and he prepares to make a dash for the bathroom when a glass of water is held in front of him.
He raises an eyebrow as his eyes flutter open.
Emma rolls her eyes.
"You should have seen the state you were in last night," she tells him - he bites back the sarcastic "I know, I was there" reply - placing two white pills into his palm, "It was quite obvious you were going to need these.
He rolls up on his elbows, chucks the pills down his throat and takes a long gulp-
-he's long since stopped questioning the wonders they had here to make you feel better.
He rolls back onto his side shortly after, staring up at his true love as she smiles softly down at him, knees crossed and her hand resting lightly on her swollen stomach.
His eyes narrow (it's seriously easier to stomach the light that way) but he reaches forward with his tentative left hand, joining hers on her stomach and her hand tightens around his, slipping it beneath hers so he's rubbing soothing circles onto her clothed skin.
"I love you," he murmurs but his eyes are on her stomach and he's not quite sure who he's said it to-
-Emma or their little one-
-because he loves them both-
-he loves them both so much with an intensity that he didn't even know he was capable of.
When his eyes finally flicker back up to hers, she's smiling and there's tears in her eyes, moisture welling up.
Her voice cracks when she speaks, a wide grin on her lips, "And we love you."
He grins and she leans down, blonde locks splaying across his chest and presses her lips onto his though she keeps it light and pulls back less than a moment later. He follows her lips as she presses her forehead to his.
"It's still going to be a boy though," she murmurs, breath fanning out against his lips.
"Swan," he sighs.
She grins, pulling back with false innocence written all over her face.
"What? It is," she insists.
(It is a boy and she grins smugly at him as she holds their baby boy in her arms, littering kisses over his red face. Killian rolls his eyes at her but she knows he isn't too bothered. How could he be? When they have this perfection in their arms.)
(They call him Liam. Liam Swan Jones, though, he mostly goes by Jones. And he's the spitting image of his uncle.)
