Title: Spring Break

Summary: It's Spring Break and Graham and Emma have plans for Henry's birthday.

Note: After a bit of math, April seemed like the best idea to place Henry's birthday in (April 8, to be exact; Lost numbers and all that). Emma is about twenty weeks along. Sort of based on a prompt from skagengiirl requesting, "I would love to read more of Emma quietly - and unnoticed until noticed - observing her boys."

"Hey, kid," Graham whispered, shaking Henry's shoulder slightly.

It was early, even before sunrise. The sky hadn't even begun to lighten to a pearl, the stars still alight. It was far earlier than the kid would normally be up, especially on the first day of Spring Break.

Henry groaned, barely stirring before falling back into a pattern of heavy, rhythmic breathing. Graham grinned and shook him slightly harder. "Gotta get up."

Henry threw an arm over his eyes, a protest incoherently jumbled out. "Dad," he mumbled tiredly, pulling away.

Graham felt his throat tighten and he swallowed hard. "No, buddy, it's Graham," he corrected wistfully, pushing back the boy's bed-mussed hair.

Henry blinked up at him, his eyes still hazy from sleep. To Graham's surprise, there was no confusion, no hesitance. "I know," he said, a small smile forming on his lips. "You're the only one to be up this early."

Graham stared at him a long moment, realizing that Henry hadn't been mistaking him for Neal. Henry had just acknowledged him, not anyone else, as "dad." He was Dad. His stomach twisted with emotion, and he could feel it beading beneath his eyelids. Firmly, he set a kiss on the crown of his head, hands tight on his shoulders. "Well, you knew it wouldn't be your mom," he joked, even as his voice thickened with tears.

"It's way too early," he sighed, dragging his fingers across his face.

"I know. But we're going on a trip," Graham replied. He looked down on him fondly, the pleasant, overwhelmed buzz still lighting through him. He nudged him. "There's a donut stop on the way if you're quick enough."

Henry leaned up, yawning widely. "A trip?" he asked before rubbing his eyes. "Mom get a runner?"

"Not this time. It's a little different. Your mom and I got your bag packed, but feel free to throw in anything you'd like to have. Warm weather," he replied vaguely. He clapped a hand on his shoulder and rose. "Teeth brushed. Be ready in ten."

"'Kay," he grumbled, but then the smile widened as he looked back at him. "Dad."

He grinned back, unable to stop the flood of happiness. "Kid," he replied tenderly, using the term of endearment he and Emma had both always used.

He left then, to give the boy some privacy. He startled to find Emma just outside the door. She leaned against the doorframe with a knowing smile on her lips, bathed in the barest of light seeping in from their bedroom. Her hands cupped her stomach, framing the small distention just slightly. He couldn't help matching her smile, the bright emotion still caught in his throat. She reached a hand out to him. "Told you," she murmured as she pulled him into her arms.

"First time," he breathed.

She looked away. "Yeah, I remember how that feels," she said with a small tug of her lips.

He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, fingers feather-lights across her cheek as he wondered about the first moment Henry called her "mom," in either life. "Tell me?"

She peered back up at him, her sea colored eyes bright even in the dim light. "Later. Once we're settled. You got the tickets?"

He patted his jacket pocket. "And the letter. And the hotel numbers."

"Good. Cab's on the way," Emma answered.

Forty minutes later had them in the back of a cab and nearing JFK, next to no traffic on the 678 that early in the morning. Henry was back to dozing lightly against his shoulder.

He looked up at Emma only to find her staring at them. She took in a long breath, resting her own head against Henry's before mouthing a clear "I love you." He reached over and entwined their fingers, stamping down the flutter of nervousness at their plan.

Everything would go smoothly, he was sure, and even if it didn't … did it really matter?

Henry came to quickly when the car stopped, but still seemed to drift zombie-like through the motions as he was led around the airport. "Where we going, anyway?" Henry mumbled as he pulled off his shoes at security. It surprised him slightly that it's taken Henry this long to ask. The kid was nothing if not inquisitive.

"McCoy Airport. We'll be staying there for a bit while we clear this thing up," Emma replied, keeping her tone light even as her words became vaguer. Graham grinned at her mischievously over his shoulder.

"Headphones, kid?" Graham asked innocently, tossing them at him.

Henry's brow furrowed, but he plugged them into his game system. It would keep him occupied and unaware, as long as they made it discrete when the flight attendants walked through the cabins.

Graham sighed as they entered the plane. He had memories of flying. Not often, but enough that it wasn't anything new to have ID and information ready and on-hand, bags stored in overhead bins, emergency exits likely behind you. But still, a tingling of apprehension built as soon as he buckled his seatbelt.

Emma looked over at him in concern, and then placed her hand on top of his. She took a deep breath before rolling her fingers along his knuckles. "It was a Sunday. Maggie was off at work. I was alone with the kid, just making breakfast. It was simple, like toast or something, and I was heating up his bottle at the same time."

His fingers unclenched from on the armrests, realizing what she was saying. He breathed out a shaky sigh, and nodded. "No toaster mishaps?"

She chuckled and shook her head. "No toaster mishaps. But it was a busy morning, and I was supposed to be preparing answers for an interview Maggie set up for the next day. So, I was rambling, just talking out loud to Henry so I could get a feel for the answers. He was eleven months old, and he had been making the usual little babbling sounds back. So, I just continued on like we were in a conversation."

He looked down, watching her make soothing circles on the webbing of his thumb and index finger with her own thumb. He eased his grip further, relaxing into the seat. "And then?"

She looked over at Henry, a smirk on her face. "Then, all of a sudden I heard a 'no.' Almost like he was stopping me from talking. So, I turn to him in shock, and I ask him what he said. And he just grins, this big grin with these four tiny teeth up front, and says 'mama.' That was the first time."

He glanced at Henry, still busy with his game. Carefully, he placed one hand on her stomach, rolling his palm over the bump. "So, you're telling me it'll be about sixteen months before I get to hear this little one?" he asked, his eyes twinkling as he nodded his head toward Henry. "Or five months plus twelve years?"

She huffed a laugh. "I hope it doesn't take that long for kid number two to call you 'dad.'"

There's a hint of something that was not humor in her tone, a catch of fear. So, he leaned closer to kiss her temple. "Going to be around for everything. And going to be legal dad from the start," he whispered.

She smiled a little tightly but nodded. "Twenty weeks."

He nodded. "Twenty weeks 'til we can put mom and dad on legal forms, for her," he clarified.

She rolled her eyes, but patted his jacket pocket. "As soon as we hit the ground?"

He shook his head. "I want him to see it, first. Maybe once we're settled at the hotel."

Emma raised one brow before digging her magazine out from her bag. "Ten bucks says you tell him five minutes after we've gotten off the plane and no later."

Graham wrinkled his nose. "We'll see, Deputy."

"Co-sheriff," she corrected plainly before sticking her nose in her reading. "I won the election."

"Yeah, yeah, Bail Bonds Person."

"Detective," she shot back, like an insult, even as the corner of her lips tugged upward.

As soon as they disembarked two hours later, he heard Henry's sharp inhale. "Orlando?" he asked, suspicion in his voice now that a couple more hours of sleep were in him.

"Orlando," Graham confirmed, wrapping an arm around him. "McCoy Airport. What, was that confusing?"

"You dorks," Henry said as he ran ahead to press his face against the glass. He looked wistfully out at the skyline. "You said … you said there were things to clear up? Why … what's here?"

"Several things, I'd say," Graham teased. He leaned against the window near him, then pulled a few documents out of his pocket. "This might interest you the most."

Henry took the brightly colored tickets with shaking hands. "Disney?"

Graham grinned. "What, you thought a couple games and a new backpack was enough on your wish-list?"

"But … but there wasn't enough time. We couldn't afford it," he said, staring down at the passes as if they'd disappear if he clutched them too tightly.

"It's your first birthday with all of us, for real. I'd say that warrants a little time away," he replied.

The wind was knocked out of him as Henry threw himself into his arms. He hugged him back, just as tightly. "Thank you, Dad."

Graham held him closer before pulling back. "Yeah, about that," he said, pulling out the final item, a thick envelope. "Thought you'd like to see it. Officially."

"Officially?" Henry took the documents, turning to the first page. Graham eyed him carefully as he read the certificate of adoption. "You're really my dad, now. Legally," he breathed.

"Yeah," Graham replied just as softly. "Not having second thoughts about it, are you?"

He shook his head quickly. "It's just … it's real. Not that it wasn't before … but it feels …."

"More?" Graham supplied.

Henry nodded.

Graham twisted his ring around his finger and bobbed his head. "That's how it felt when your mom and I got married. Everything was already there, but now that it can be legal, it feels like it can't be taken away," Graham said with a wry smile.

"It sounds silly," Henry said, staring down at the documents again. "You've been 'dad' for so long, even before I could say it, but now –"

"I know, kid," he said, brushing back his hair. "Happy early birthday. I love you."

"Love you, too," Henry said.

Emma walked over from her place on the chairs opposite, eyes teary but carefully trying to hide it. "Four and a half minutes. You owe me, Humbert."

"Which one?" Henry asked, picking up the letter as proof. "We're all Humberts, now."

"Swan-Humbert," Emma corrected, but grinned anyway. "Tiny family's getting bigger. Still okay with it?"

Henry nodded enthusiastically, then hugged his mother as well. "Thanks, Mom."

"Happy early birthday. You're lucky Spring Break coincided," she said, nudging his side. "Disney's going to take some time to get through."

"I can still take you on the tea cups, so that's a plus," Henry said with bright eyes. Graham chuckled, recalling how Emma had spoken about him pressed up to the TV screen as a kid to the Disney Sing Alongs.

"Yeah, yeah, and I'll do some shopping while you and Graham go on Space Mountain. Deal?" she asked.

"Deal," Henry said quickly. "Keep Abby safe."

Graham shook his head. "Already an Abigail. We'll get the perfect one eventually."

"Fine," he huffed. He looked thoughtfully up at Emma for a moment. "We should take pictures with Disney-Snow, and her prince if we can."

Emma shook her head, and placed her face in her hands. "Fine."

"So, it'll be like a whole family photo, with everyone," he said, a little softer.

Everyone was silent at that, tensely so. The past sometimes threatened to swallow them in a confused haze, so painful was it in its implications. But right now wasn't time for that, not in this moment. Finally, Graham placed a hand on his shoulder. "I think that'd be nice."

"David would love that," Emma said sarcastically, but chuckled nonetheless. "Your birthday, kid. Family photo it is. But let's get to the hotel first, before we start making plans."

"Cool," Henry agreed, standing up once again.

"And you still owe me ten bucks," Emma said, tugging on Graham's sleeve.

"I'll buy you a turkey leg," Graham replied, kissing her on the lips.

Right now, the parts of their family that could be together were more firmly knitted together. And that was cause for celebration.