A/N: So I tried to put a little more fluffy goodness in this chapter before I wrap this story up. I hope you enjoy it with a chapter solely on our fun couple and some good moments with Henry.
As the days grew shorter and the leaves began to change on the trees, Emma admittedly became more comfortable settling into the house. At first she did not really mingle her belongings with Killian's, keeping to separate drawers and meticulously straightening up after herself that she wondered about a self-diagnosis of OCD. He merely watched and smiled, encouraging her on those moments when she slipped and might leave her socks on the floor or let her coffee mug sit in the sink a bit too long.
It was an old habit from the youth, a part of her that was hard to shake. She always had to be so careful to be perfect, never wanting to give a family reason to send her back or worse. It drew over her a feeling of needing to be perfect, which still stuck with her.
However, when a cold took its toll on her, she did seem to calm down a bit. Wrapped in a blanket on the couch with a fire crackling merrily in the fireplace, he found her there with a book open on her chest and her head thrown back against an oversized pillow. She was wearing one of his obscure band t-shirts and her favorite flannel sleep pants with a drooping pair of socks on her feet and her hair in a haphazard ponytail that she knew had to be full of knots and tangles. Her eyes were shut and her mouth thrown open in the position, a light snore from her congestion reverberated her chest.
While she had been so careful to be unobtrusive and the perfect roommate, she was surrounded by mess. Tissues littered the surface of an end table and its matching coffee table, as well as a bit of the rug covered floor. Half a glass of orange juice sat warmly on the table and splashes of it stained her shirt. There was a strong scent of menthol from Emma's attempts to find comfort from the congestion and her school work was strewn about from her attempts to keep up with her classes. Even her cell phone, with its waning power was half hidden between the cushions and the television remote.
He'd been stuck at a conference further inland for two days, having just found the opportunity to slip away. A bowl of chicken soup from Granny's and a grilled cheese were on the tray he held, along with an herbal tea that Mary Margaret swore was the closest thing to a cure for the common cold. He placed it carefully on the coffee table and sank to the floor there in front of her, removing the book and rubbing her hands with his own one hand. She had complained that she felt both hot and cold at the same time and it appeared to be true. Her face was flushed from the fever, but her hands and fingers were like ice.
"Hey," she said, her eyes fluttering and struggling to focus in on the dark haired man to the side of her. "You're home."
"I couldn't let you struggle through this cold without me," he said. "I brought you some lunch. How are you feeling?"
She grunted in her attempt to sit up straighter, a cough racking through her as she covered her mouth with her arm. "Like I died two days ago and they forgot to tell me." She blinked toward the tray. "I think it might be time to pull the plug."
"It's just a cold, darling," he said with a chuckle at her dramatics. "I think you'll live."
"You're one to talk," she muttered. "You had this same thing last week and were convinced it was some viral flu strain from the rainforest that was brought over by terrorists. You wanted me to call Homeland Security." Her voice was husky and strained, but she managed a little smile.
"I'd be willing to bet you believe me now," he said with a wry smile of his own. "Bloody fever had me hallucinating. You looked lovely with two heads by the way." Sitting back on his folded legs, he reached for the tea cup and handed it to her. "Drink this."
She frowned as he watched her lift the cup to her lips, rolling her eyes as he encouraged her to take a nice big gulp of it. "You do realize I haven't written out a will to leave you everything. If you're trying to kill me, it won't make you richer."
"Drink," he said firmly, shaking his head at her paranoia that seemed to grow as she got sick.
The warmth of the tea felt good as it slid down her throat, taking the edge off the knife like pain she had been experiencing. "Might work," she muttered before taking another sip. "But it isn't kind to prolong a patient's agony." She pulled the blanket tighter.
"So dramatic, love," he said, pushing off her comments that he had been just as prone to histrionics during his own battle. Instead, he lifted up her legs and sat down next to her on the couch, pulling her long limbs over his lap and helping her feed on the soup and sandwich between sips of the tea. She protested lightly, but he reminded her that she had cared for him during his convalescence as well as Henry's so this was probably their fault that she was ill.
With the food finished and the mess tidied, he came back to find her staring with unfocused eyes at a list of formulas for a pending math exam. Lifting the book out of her hands, he silenced her protest with a quick peck to her mouth and scooted back onto the couch with her. "You aren't going to retain a thing with this cold," he pointed out. "You need your rest."
She pouted in protest, weakly reaching out her arms and wiggling her fingers in a half-hearted attempt to reach the book. "But my test," she whined. "I can't pass it if I don't…"
"We'll get you all ready for it, but you have to sleep, love," he said. His eyes drifted toward the cheerful fire that seemed to add to the pleasantness of the room. Windows lined two of the four walls of the room with a bench that ran the length of the far wall where Emma and Killian both enjoyed sitting and watching the waves crash down below. Two soft leather sofas and a captain's chair made for plenty of room to sit or relax and antique lamps dotted the cherry wood tables to provide glowing light after the sun went down. A tall entertainment center stood on the far wall with matching doors that could be pulled shut to hide the equipment and Henry's growing game collection. "How did you build such a nice fire?" he asked, realizing she hardly seemed up for the task in her state.
"Elsa came to visit this morning," Emma offered, nestling into the crook of his arm and using his chest as her pillow. "She built it for me before she left."
"And how is the lovely bride to be?" he asked. He had come to find Elsa amusing and could see the strong bond between the two women. He loved to hear stories of their adventures together, stake outs that had gone in different directions and bad double dates where one or the other feigned sick so they could leave the men. And though he'd only met her twice so far, Anna was even more amusing to him with her fast talking and completely unfiltered mouth that streamed anything that came to mind. If she thought it, she said it.
"She's good," Emma said a bit sleepily. "She's trying to decide between heat lamps and torches for the wedding."
"You do realize she and Will are sodding fools to plan an outdoor ceremony in December in Maine," he said, his chuckle vibrating against her ear. "We could be waist deep in snow for it."
"That would be just up her ally," Emma said, punctuating her comment with a little cough. "According to Anna, Elsa was skiing and sledding before she could walk. She loves the snow and ice. I think a wedding in the snow is just what she wants."
Killian's hand was traveling aimlessly along the curve of her side, fingers brushing over her warm and cold skin as he relished the way she pulled herself into him as if she could not be close enough. "And you?" he asked, his voice hitching a bit, the way it did when he was nervous about something. "What type of wedding would you like?"
She had scoffed when he mentioned the idea once before, but she was so relaxed into him now that she did not pull away. "Maybe something outdoors on the beach," she said drowsily. "But not in the winter. I would rather it be warm and sunny."
He wasn't sure if she even realized what she was saying to him, admitting that she had thought of marrying him enough to have an answer regarding plans. She was usually so guarded with such things, telling him she thought of her dreams and desires like wishes from a blowing out a birthday candle. Giving the words over to him might mean they could not come true.
While he had not proposed, as four months seemed far too soon for that, he couldn't help but think about such a life with her and Henry. He wanted everything with her, marriage, kids, growing old together. And as with every other moment in their life as a couple, he had vowed to be patient. She was a curious one with her standoffish behavior that usually led to one moment where she gave into what she wanted. He loved those moments, the look on her face as she realized that she had been fighting the one thing that would make her happiest, the annoyance that he did not realize she had lowered that wall, and the way she could act as though it had never been an issue.
Holding her there as sleep claimed her again, he smiled and buried his own face against her. She would fight him, but he knew that someday she would let him place a wedding ring on her finger. He promised himself that he would never take her or Henry for granted, knowing firsthand how fleeting life could be when he wasn't expecting it.
***AAA***
Emma made him swear that he wasn't planning anything for her birthday, straddling him one morning after his shower. She was fully dressed her hair hung over them like a curtain as she stared pointedly into his eyes and made him vow that she wasn't the subject of some elaborate plan to celebrate the day of her birth. "I don't like surprises," she told him, her hands holding his arms over his head. "I will never forgive you."
"Duly noted, love," he said, smiling at her vehement denial that she wanted a birthday party. He had already told Ruby to cool it with the plans and to put her efforts toward Mary Margaret's baby shower and Elsa's bachelorette party instead. "No parties. No big deal."
She sat up straighter, a denim clad thigh on either side of his towel covered hips. "Good," she said skeptically. "I don't like surprises."
"I thought we might take a weekend away. Everyone is well again. You're caught up at school and passed both your midterms." His smirk ignored the fact that she is straddling him and clearly had the upper hand. "Maybe some little out of the way place in the country or down the coast a bit?"
"I think we need to worry more about getting to school and less about vacations," Emma said, dropping her mouth onto his for a short and only somewhat satisfying kiss. Attempting to roll off of him, she giggled as he took advantage of her loosened grip and ran his hand up her thigh to her waist.
"We could start the celebration early…right here and now?" His head was a couple of inches off the bed as if to chase her as she continued to disentangle herself from him. "Emma?"
"We don't have enough time," she said warningly, glancing in the mirror and swiping her brush through her hair. "Maybe later?"
"I can be fast," he said petulantly. "I promise."
Looking back at him, the dark blue towel resting low on his hips and the water droplets still glistening on his dark chest hair, she could see the frustration in his dark eyes as she half walked and half sashayed out of the door. "You're never fast," she called over her shoulder. "That's one of the things I love about you." She was already in the hallway when she heard his deep and discouraged whimper.
Emma made her way down the polished stairs to the landing that allowed her to go to the front door or right into the kitchen or left into the living room. Her son was perched on one of the leather covered stools that flanked the island with a bowl of cereal in front of him. His eyes were on his phone as he circled his spoon in the bowl, sloshing the milk dangerously close to the edges. His hair had grown out again, uneven and hanging into his eyes. She pushed it back. "Me, you, a haircut this weekend, kid," She said, kissing his cheek.
"Morning to you too," he muttered, looking back at his phone.
"You know that this phone is for emergencies. So that had better be some really tough homework." She sidled past him and dug around in the cabinet until she found the coffee pod she wanted. Her son's dark eyes did not rise up to meet hers, his thumb hovering over the phone. "Spill it, Henry. I've got 10 minutes. Tell me what's going on or the phone's battery goes goodbye."
Her son was wearing his Storybrooke Academy uniform sans tie, which was lying on the counter next to him. She had noticed that it was always the last item he put on each day and the first that he removed. According to Mary Margaret and the other teachers, he was doing well with his classwork and thriving. He had made a few friends and even slept over at one's house just the other weekend. "There's a dance at school," he said with a dramatic sigh. "And, well, Nicholas and I kind of like the same girl. We both wanted to ask her to the dance." He absently spun the spoon again. "I think she likes him more."
Exhaling through her nose, Emma tried to bite back the automatic response that her son was too young for such worries. She almost told him to forget the dance and she would buy him a new video game to play or even take him to the movies, but that would just delay the inevitable. He clearly was struggling with that line between loyal friendship and the potential for something more at the cost of it. "How do you know who she likes?" Emma asked in what she hoped was a neutral tone. "Did she say something?"
"She doesn't have to," he said, slamming the phone down. "She ate lunch with him yesterday and then this morning he texted to say that she wants to be his partner in science lab today. I don't stand a chance."
Emma slammed the lid down on the coffee maker a little too forcefully. "Well, it sounds to me like your friend seems to be putting himself out there. Why don't you see if there is a way for you to spend time with her? Or maybe there is another girl…"
"There is no other girl."
Emma rolled her eyes. "There has to be another girl. Someone from one of your classes or the bus. What about that girl…Killian's friend Jefferson is her father? What's her name?"
"That's the girl I'm talking about, Mom," he answered as if she would know the dating options of the middle grades at the day school. She was wracking her brain to see if he had ever mentioned her before.
"Fine then," Emma said, hearing the coffee machine hiss to life. "What about Ava? Does she have a date?" Inwardly she groaned to use that word with her son. She was silently apologizing to any foster parent or group home leader who had to deal with her dating. Her black shirt buttoned down the front and felt silky under her red leather jacket that had been hanging on the bannister. "You liked her this summer."
"Guys don't date their friend's sisters." He sound affronted that she would suggest something so horrible.
"That's a good rule to have," Killian spoke up, entering the room and pecking Emma on the cheek before he searched for his own coffee pod. "But it depends on the situation. Is this Ava in need of a date for some event? Would it benefit…"
"I don't need advice," Henry cried out, jumping down from the stool so fast that it swayed from the effort. He righted it just in time and grabbed his backpack from the other. Palm held up, he shoved the phone toward his mother. "Here…"
"Just watch the minutes," Emma said, cradling her coffee mug in her hands. "I don't need any surprises on the bill this month. And as for what's her name, don't worry. If she can't see how great you are…"
"Then she isn't worth my time," Henry finished. When she looked surprised, the boy just shook his head. "Elsa said that to Anna at least 1,000 times. I know those magazines you guys read say the same stuff."
Killian chuckled as he tossed Emma a packet of sugar. "The lad's reading Cosmo now?" He ducked as both Emma and Henry looked offended by his words. A muttered apology was not very promising either and he concentrated on doctoring his coffee even though he usually drank it black. His black pants and vest were dark against his fair skin and the blue highlights of his patterned shirt complemented his eyes. Emma had joked that there were probably more than a few of the students who mentally undressed him every day that he lectured about cell structure and the makeup of ocean habitats.
"I don't want you setting your whole self-worth on whether or not a girl likes you or your friend better," Emma clarified. "You are more than just the object of someone's affections."
At his age, Henry was just coming to realization that he might not have to view girls as the enemy. Adding another layer to that meant that he was even more confused. "Got it," he muttered. "But it still sucks."
Sneaking a half a piece of wheat toast off Emma's plate and avoiding her attempted slapping of his hand, he pointed one end of the jelly and butter covered bread at the younger housemate. "I know it is not encouraging news, mate, but you'll find that a lass can be the most perplexing creature on this earth. You will find yourself at odds with logic and reason when you try to understand. It is often best just to accept and live for the moments where the girl might give you bit of attention." He winked at Emma, but her expression remained firmly dissatisfied.
"You're right," Henry said, slinging his bag over his shoulder and shoving the phone and neck tie into his pocket. "That wasn't exactly encouraging."
"Aye," Killian said, wrapping his hand around the coffee mug and his left arm around Emma's waist under her jacket. "But well worth the trouble when you find the right lass."
Making a face like he tasted something sour, Henry beat a hasty retreat out of the kitchen with the words that he was going out to meet the bus trailing after him and punctuated by the slamming door. Emma laughed, leaning against him as she enjoyed the warmth of the coffee.
***AAA***
Emma worried that Killian might have planned something for her October birthday, but true to his promise he didn't. He and Henry both hid little presents around the house, not making a big deal out of presenting them to her and letting her find them on her own. There was a book she had been wanting to read sitting next to the coffee maker that morning. Then there was a watch resting upon her clothes after her shower. Nothing was too elaborate, but it was enough to show that her guys were obviously thinking of her on the cool and crisp Friday. Their friends dropped off little gifts, baskets of goodies, gift certificates, and funny or touching cards.
Usually Fridays were a work day for her and a day of chartered fishing trips for Killian, but both took the day off. He even hid her text books from her and told her that she was not going to spend the day studying when he had much better plans in mind. Waiting for the sun to warm the air a little bit, they ate their breakfast in front of the windows that overlooked the ocean and shared a few kisses and caresses that she admonished him for playfully and then sank into gleefully.
As she watched him put the last of the dishes into the dishwasher, she could not quit smiling. His own smile was evident with a bump of his hip to close the door to the appliance. "I didn't quite picture this," she admitted, resting her chin in the palm of one of her hands. "When I first met you, I didn't see this life or situation."
Coming around the counter in his own jeans and dark sweater, he waggled his eyebrows in that way she had come to see as the precursor to some flirty comment or innuendo. She steadied herself because despite the cheesiness of some of his lines, he always managed to make her feel butterflies. "You were a stubborn lass," he said, closing that distance between them and his breath warm on the shell of her ear. "But I wore you down."
She giggled, slapping at his chest as he yanked her up off the stool toward him. "So you think that it was your persistence and not the power of our love for each other?" Her back arched backward to deny him or at least delay their kiss. "I rather think it was my realizing my love for you that did it."
"Only because of my persistence, Swan," he insisted, his mouth following hers as she continued to wiggle just out of reach. "A lesser man would have given up and accepted it the 200 times you said nothing would happen between us, but I just wanted you in my life whether it was as a friend or a lover. This is much better than just friends though, darling."
"Much better," she sighed, stilling herself so that their lips could meet. Their kiss was a bit lazy and soft, a perfect combination of a day off and the gentleness that was coming to be a signature of their relationship. There were times when their desires were hungrier or more carnal, but there was also an ease to them that seemed unhurried and at times sweet. When his lips trailed from her mouth with a whine of protest from his own doing, she sighed and wrapped herself tighter around his torso. "We need to get to packing. Henry's going to be home soon."
His mouth did not stop immediately, nipping at the skin just above her ruby red sweater. "I have plans for this weekend that don't include that many clothes," he muttered in mock protest. "Just me and you and…"
She wasn't sure if it was her renewed attempts to distance them by arching backwards or the shrill tone of his phone bleating insensitively that dissuaded him, but he pulled back and answered the call with a curt hello to whoever was on the other end of the line. It was enough for Emma kiss his stubble covered cheek and pull away toward the stairs to pack overnight bags for them. They were just driving to some cabin about two hours away, but she wanted them to have everything they would need. It wasn't exactly a romantic getaway with Henry coming along, but Killian had said he thought the idea of the three of them getting away together sounded like a fine plan.
***AAA***
Emma was visibly enthralled by the rich reds, yellows, oranges, and browns of the trees that lined the two lane road on the way to the cabin. She reasoned that her city living had only let her catch glimpses of such beauty before, but now she was surrounded by it. Turned sideways in the jeep's passenger seat, she would point out picturesque spots and even begged Killian to stop a time or two so she could snap a photograph of an overlook or of some deteriorating barn that seemed to blend seamlessly into the landscape. They took selfies in front of a babbling brook and even in front of a cow pasture when Henry showed a bit of enthusiasm over seeing so many of the lumbering animals at once. Their stops added an hour to the drive time, but none of them seemed to mind as they pulled in next to the cabin just after dusk.
"It's beautiful," Emma said as Killian and Henry brushed off her attempts to help with the luggage. "I bet it is even better in the daylight." Her hand touched at her neck where Killian's gift of an anchor pendant now rested next to her signature circle necklace.
The cabin was fully equipped though a bit on the simple side. A large living space with modern kitchen was flanked on either side by a bedroom and bathroom. A covered porch ran the length of the front of the cabin with rocking chairs situated for the best view of a lake that they couldn't quite see in the dark. Up a full flight of stairs was another bedroom and bath with a balcony overlooking a similar view.
After a leisurely dinner with cupcakes to celebrate Emma's birthday, the three settled in to watch a movie on the biggest television that any of them had ever seen. "Nothing about serial killers roaming the woods," Emma said as Henry inspected the selections. "I would like to sleep tonight."
Killian chuckled, wrapping an arm loosely around her. "I can protect you," he muttered against her golden hair that she tied loosely over one shoulder. She slapped his chest and reminded him that if Henry got scared from the movie that they would likely all be sleeping in the same bed.
They settled on a comedy and giggled their way through bank heists that went bad and ridiculously sequenced car chases that involved wild animals and a stop at a fast food restaurant as the police pursued. While Emma rolled her eyes at the portrayals, Henry and Killian laughed so hard that she began to wonder if either of them could still breathe. At one point Henry choked on his popcorn so hard that Killian had to whack his back to get him back to rights.
By the time it was over Henry's eyes were drooping and his head had lolled over onto Emma's shoulder. She smoothed down his messy hair, leaning her own cheek onto the top. Killian, having disentangled himself from the oversized throw they were sharing and her embrace, puttered around to clean up the popcorn bowls and empty drinks. He paused on his return from the kitchen, finding Henry now asleep and Emma holding him loosely.
"I know that he takes after Neal, but I am seeing more and more of you in him," he said so softly that he would not wake the sleeping child. "You both do that thing with your nose when you are asleep as if you were a rabbit."
Emma touched the tip of her own nose lightly. "I have noticed that about him, but I didn't know I did it." She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in deeply. "He's growing up too fast. He used to be my little buddy. He'd follow me anywhere and wanted to be just like me. I know it is natural for him to grow up, but it hurts. I miss the little guy who had a security blanket and wanted to snuggle on Sunday mornings while we ate poptarts and talked about the latest cartoon he was into then."
Killian looked at the peaceful scene before him with a bit of a wistful smile. "I've never had a child, but I still long for those days when Liam and I used to be kids. We would sneak into each other's beds and read comic books under the covers. I always fell asleep first and he'd let me stay there." He perched himself on the arm of a chair and ran his hand down his own face. "Or my mother loved to read. She had the sweetest voice and would read aloud to us from letters from her relatives. I would be under one of her arms and Liam under the other as she told us of her own childhood or some silly tale that had to be made up."
Emma smiled back at him, imagining him as a child with bright eyed excitement and gangly arms that would be eager to hug. "It's a shame," she said, shifting to prop her son up in a better position. "When Henry was a baby and then a toddler, I felt very lost. I was working two jobs to make ends meet. He needed so much attention. I didn't stop and appreciate it then. I was so busy thinking of how to get from one thing to the next. I wish I could go back and experience that again, really enjoy those days."
"Is that your birthday wish, love?" he asked, almost teasingly.
She wrinkled her nose and shook her head slightly. "No, you know I wouldn't tell you that. But I think it is safe to say that maybe someday I would like the chance to be a mom again without the two jobs, crappy apartments, and worries about money and bills."
He almost teased her again, asking if she had a father picked out yet, but he held back. There was such a rawness in her at that moment that he knew she was revealing something she might regret if he treated it lightly. Instead, he just gave his own nod and said he would like such an experience too, trying not to picture the sights that flickered through his mind. "Did you have a good birthday?" he asked. "I know you aren't a big fan of celebrating it."
"It's been perfect," she said, her toes wiggling under the blanket. "I got to spend it with my two favorite guys."
***AAA***
The next morning the three hiked a trail around the small lake, took more photos than any knew what to do with, and managed to find themselves looking at antique stores in a small town as Henry found a comic book store where he happily buried himself in the adventures of superheroes. He'd already texted Emma twice to ask for an advance on his allowance to buy more of the tales.
Killian walked beside Emma with his arm thrown around her and stopping her every few feet to brush a strand of hair out of her face or chastely kiss her when he couldn't resist. People seemed to smile at them and make pleased clucking sounds at their obvious affection for each other. He was admittedly proud of his relationship with her, pleased beyond belief to have her there on his arm.
"Look at that table," Emma said as they entered another of the shops. "It's beautiful." She ran her free hand along the carved edge and smiles. In the end she had to practically restrain him from buying it, telling him she was just admiring it and did not need it at all.
They ended up doing more window shopping than anything, buying only a few trinkets and some freshly jarred maple syrup that they both sampled and loved. And in one of the few moments away from each other, he gazed at a display of jewelry at one of the pricier shops, his eyes settling on a ring that he could picture shining brightly from Emma's hand. He knew it was too soon for such a gesture, but his gut instinct got the better of him and for the rest of the day it sat safely in his jacket's interior pocket without her knowledge.
***AAA***
Killian found Henry down by the water near dinner time, the boy staring out at the water with a gloomy expression. "Your mother was looking for you, mate," Killian said, brushing the fallen leaves off of the bench of an ancient picnic table. "Dinner is almost ready."
Henry's fingers were wrapped around a twig, bending it almost to the breaking point and then letting it go back to shape. "I'll come in soon," he said, staring toward the glassy water without blinking.
Though he knew Emma's son was essentially telling him to go back and leave him alone, Killian sat silently for a moment and studied Henry's expression. "Is this about that lass? The one you and your friend both like?"
Shaking his head no, he frowned down at the stick. "My mom's happy," he said as though that might be the worst thing ever. "She's doing okay and…"
Killian watched worry sink Henry's expression even more. "And?" he prodded.
"And she used to need me. I know I'm just a kid, but she confided in me. She relied on me. She'd have a tough day at work and I'd tell her some story about school that would make her laugh so that everything was alright again." He shook his head again. "She has you for that now. You make her smile. You are the one she looks for at the end of a bad day. I'm just the extra baggage." Though he was about to turn 13, he looked incredibly young in his thick coat and sweater, his cheeks pink from the wind that was picking up briskly.
"Whoa," Killian said, holding his palm out toward Henry. "Your mom is not replacing you with me. She loves you so much that she doesn't let an hour go by that she hasn't mentioned you or talked about you. While we were shopping earlier, she took photos of things she thought would make you smile on her phone. She's planning to show them to you tonight."
One of the last remaining birds in the area that had not gone south yet swooped at the glassy water and then returned to its perch in a branch nearby. Its voice was loud and clear along the quiet oasis. "You're going to marry her, aren't you?" Henry asked.
Killian gulped and fought the urge to pat his jacket pocket, as he had not even found time to hide the ring in his overnight bag. "Is that something that would bother you?" he asked, not sure if Henry's complaint was about him.
The boy shrugged.
"Henry, I love your mother and I care a great deal about you. So if I were to ask your mother to marry me, I would only do so with your permission. No surprises, okay?"
"You've been great," Henry said finally, turning his head so that Killian could not fully see him. "I don't want you to think that I'm not liking being around you." The frown was becoming set even deeper. "I just feel like if you were to marry her that things would be different. You two would be your own family. You'd probably have kids or something. They'd be yours."
Killian saw where he was going with this and his heart ached for the boy who just wanted to be a part of a family. "Henry, you had a father who died way too young and too soon. I would never think that I could replace him, as he loved you very much, I'm quite sure. But rest assured, whatever happens with your mother, I fully intend to be a part of your life. I care too much about you to pretend like we never met."
Considering that bit of information, Henry's ministrations with the twig gave way to it breaking. "I think it would be okay," Henry said finally. "I mean if you want to marry her."
Killian grinned bumping his shoulder against Henry. "I would ask her today if I thought she'd say yes, but I fear she is not ready for that jump yet."
"Maybe not," Henry said as he threw the two sticks down. "But I bet she will be."
Please let me know what you're thinking.
