Everyone in the little shack had witnessed Snow's overprotective streak when Emma was the one who'd needed to be taken care of, but no one had expected her overprotective fluttering to extend to her daughter's pirate as well. No sooner had Emma pulled the door closed than Snow had leaped into action, handing Neal off to David and telling everyone to get off the picnic blanket. As soon as everyone was off, she picked it up and shook it out to give to Killian.
"Thank you, milady," he said, still shivering as he held his hand out for the blanket.
Snow completely ignored his outstretched hand. Much to Killian's utter confusion and Emma's eternal amusement, Snow wrapped the blanket around his shoulders herself while slipping the tote from his grip and hooking it over her own shoulder. In the blink of an eye, she'd fashioned him a kind of vague cloak, with one corner of the blanket up over his like a hood. "Hold it here," she said, indicating where she'd pulled the two sides together around him.
He obeyed her instruction, too perplexed and too cold to argue with her.
All right, maybe Emma could forgive David and Killian for snickering when Snow was babying her, because watching her mother fuss over a full-grown adult – who was centuries older than she was, even! – was pretty damn funny.
"Sit in front of the fire, Hook," Snow instructed, as if a centuries-old cunning pirate captain wouldn't have thought to do so himself. "We'll have you warmed back up in no time."
Killian allowed himself to be led to the fire, finally managing to swallow his confusion enough to arch a questioning eyebrow over his shoulder at Emma as he and Snow passed her. She just shrugged in response, trying – and not exactly succeeding – to hide a smile. He playfully narrowed his eyes at her but she remained unmoved; after all, payback was a bitch.
It struck her only when Killian faced forward again that she'd just had a silent conversation with him, the same kind of silent conversation her parents had all the damn time. Holy crap, that was weird. And kind of awesome, but yeah, weird.
Snow got her charge settled on the floor in front of the fire, the blanket wrapped around him as tightly as he could stand. "I wish I had something hot to give you to eat or drink," she said apologetically as she crouched down next to him.
"It's quite all right," he assured her. "The blanket and the fire are more than enough. I spent years at sea with nothing to warm me but the clothing on my back."
She gave him a little smile before standing up straight. Then she crossed over to the sofa, unpacked the tote piece by piece, and set everything out flat on the cushions. Emma watched her for a beat before asking, "What the hell are you doing?"
"Trying to warm the things up," Snow replied. "Putting on a sweater that's freezing cold from being outside for hours isn't going to help."
Emma had to admit, her mother had a fair point.
For a long beat, everything was quiet. Then the squirt started to fuss, spurring David into motion. He paced the length of the shack with him but when he didn't calm, Snow held out her hands. "Let me. He's probably hungry."
David wasted no time in passing the baby over to his wife. The mention of the H-word must have given Henry courage because he spoke up somewhat hesitantly, "I'm actually hungry, too."
Come to think of it, so was Emma. The unseasonal snow outside was really messing her with head; if it were truly winter, it would have been dark for a couple of hours by now. Instead, the sun was low in sky, seemingly fighting against the pull toward the horizon. As such, it hadn't registered with her that it was way past dinnertime.
Henry was beyond hungry, then. A mildly hungry twelve-year-old boy could utterly decimate what remained of their food stores, to say nothing of what a twelve-year-old boy whose dinner was overdue by an hour could do. Emma shot an almost helpless glance at David, silently asking him how to handle this. She didn't want to worry Henry by telling him they had to ration what was left but she didn't want him taking however much he wanted, either.
David nodded at her, just as silently telling her he'd handle it, but before he could even open his mouth, Henry said, "I know we're trying to conserve our food, guys, so don't worry. I only want like, half a sandwich. Just something to take the edge off."
Emma gaped at him. He knew? How'd he know? She'd been so careful!
A smirk curled on her kid's lips, a smirk not unlike the one Killian usually gave her. "I'm twelve, Mom."
It was a cheeky preteen's version of "I'm not a little kid anymore, you know," which, hadn't she said pretty much exactly that to her own mother just a little bit ago? Now she knew how Snow had felt, trying to protect her from realizing the full danger of their situation just that much longer. And she also knew how Henry felt, indignant at being babied yet still vaguely amused and even touched.
She sighed, giving her kid a gentle smile. "Yeah, go for it," she said, nodding toward the cooler.
He smiled back then dashed over to the cooler with all the enthusiasm of a very hungry twelve-year-old boy. While David helped him ration his dinner, Emma crossed the room and plopped down on the floor next to Killian. The poor pirate was still shivering despite the combined heat of the blanket and the fire. "How are you feeling?" she asked.
"Better. I'm warming up."
It certainly didn't look like he was. She shifted the blanket, pulling it tighter around his shoulders. Her hand brushed his as he readjusted his grip on the fabric. Holy shit, his skin felt like ice. "You're an idiot, you know that?" she asked.
"It's been said," he replied, arching an eyebrow at her. His voice was noncommittal.
But she wasn't done. "You spent an hour out in that snow, Killian. Sixty minutes!"
"I spent an hour out in the snow to gather supplies that will keep us all warm during the night, love," he reminded her softly. "It's a fair trade."
"You're still shivering! I think that says otherwise."
"You passed out and suffered a horrible migraine headache because you used your magic to conjure what we needed to keep us all warm. That didn't look like a fair trade for you from my shoes, either, Swan, but it was, wasn't it?"
What the hell could she say to that? As far as Emma was concerned, it was a fair trade. The migraine was terrible and awful, of course, and she hoped she would never have to live through one again and the lightheadedness – or, okay, tiny loss of consciousness … whatever – was embarrassing, but if it meant keeping her family from freezing to death in this little shack, she'd do it again in a heartbeat.
The silence stretched out. Killian must have figured he'd won because a smirk curled on his lips. Emma huffed. Who the hell did the pirate think he was, bringing logic into this?
Regardless of whether or not his trudge through eighteen inches of snow was a fair trade, he wasn't going to get warmer any faster with just the fire and the blanket. Knowing she needed to make this quick before he figured out what she was doing, Emma closed her eyes and concentrated.
She was getting better at calling her magic. It seemed to be responding more quickly, at any rate. In a fraction of the time it had taken her to conjure the non-baby-vomit-covered sweater, she poofed a steaming mug of hot chocolate – with the requisite whipped cream and cinnamon, of course – into existence.
A stab of pain tore through Emma's head the second the mug appeared. Her hand shot to her forehead as she winced. Apparently she hadn't quite recovered enough from her earlier attempts at magic. Either that or she was once again trying to do too much too fast. Whichever.
The headache faded after a moment, for which she was immensely grateful. "Drink that," she said, bringing her hand down from her forehead. "It'll warm you up faster than just sitting here."
Killian shifted his surprised gaze from the mug to Emma. The surprise fled his features and concern took up residence there instead when he got a good look at her. Damn it, she must have looked as tired as she felt. "Love–"
"I don't want to hear it," she said, holding up a hand to stop his impending argument in its tracks. "A little headache and tiredness for me is nothing compared to hypothermia for you. You need the cocoa."
And then, before he had a chance to argue any further, she pushed herself up from the floor, comfortingly touching his shoulder as she did so, and crossed the room to her parents.
"How's he doing?" David asked, nodding towards Killian. In the time she'd been with her half-frozen pirate, Snow had nursed baby Neal, who was now settled contentedly in David's arms.
"Still shivering," Emma replied, giving the little squirt a smile as she held a finger out to him to grasp, "but between the fire and the hot chocolate, he should be fine."
"What hot chocolate?" Snow asked.
Um, oops? "The one I conjured for him?" Emma said, cringing slightly.
"Emma!" Snow cried.
"It's just one little mug of cocoa!" she hissed, trying to keep Killian from overhearing. "He needs it!"
Snow shook her head. "Honestly, Emma, what are we going to do with you?" Then, before Emma had a chance to react, she stepped forward and placed the back of her hand against her daughter's forehead.
A horrified Emma ducked out of her reach. "I don't have a fever! I didn't have one before, did I?"
"That's aside from the point."
Emma rolled her eyes. It was most definitely more amusing when her mom went all overprotective mom on someone else. Snow going all overprotective mom on her was freakin' mortifying.
(And touching … definitely touching. But mostly mortifying.)
"What are we going to do about sleeping arrangements?" Emma asked, more to change the subject than out of any real curiosity.
David smirked at her. "Well, we've got the bed, the couch, and two blankets. Neal obviously has his car seat, so he's set. Two of us can take the bed, and two of us can take the couch if we sleep foot-to-foot."
"That still leaves one odd person out," Emma sighed.
"The couch is a pullout," Henry spoke up around a mouthful of turkey sandwich.
All three adults stared at him, dumbfounded. "How do you know that?" Emma asked.
"I checked," he shrugged, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Yeah, Emma had figured he'd checked. Her question was more about why he'd thought to check in the first place.
"So three of us can fit on the couch under one blanket," he continued, "two of us can take the other blanket and sleep on the bed, and Neal gets his blanket and the car seat. It's perfect!"
All right, that actually was pretty perfect, though David did not seem at all enthused at the idea of Emma and Killian possibly sharing a bed. His eyes had darted to Killian and he was staring daggers at the back of the poor guy's head, making Emma simultaneously roll her eyes and wonder what had happened to David's "you're finding your moments" stance. It wasn't like the two of them could – or even would! – do anything with everyone else right freakin' there, anyway.
When Emma caught Snow's gaze, she quirked an eyebrow at her. Snow just shrugged, indulgently rolling her eyes at her husband's overprotective-dad mode.
"We'll discuss who's sleeping where when it's time for bed," he spoke up after a moment. Despite Emma's annoyance, she swallowed a smirk. He was stalling for time; even though Emma was a grown woman with a child of her own, David was now going to spend the next couple of hours trying to figure out a way to keep his baby girl away from the pirate.
That was apparently enough discussion for Henry, who nodded and joined Killian at the fire, offering him the other half of the turkey sandwich.
"Someone should probably stay on watch, anyway," David continued, lowering his voice so Henry couldn't hear. "If this is an attack, we don't want to make it easy for them. Plus, depending on how far the temperature drops, one of us should keep an eye on the others while we sleep."
"There should be two of us on watch in that case," Snow suggested. "That way if it does get dangerously cold, the two people who are awake can keep an eye on each other, too."
"Agreed," Emma said.
Snow smiled at her. "We can work out the details later."
Emma nodded, her eyes traveling to the window. The sun was just along the horizon now. In a few minutes, it would sink out of sight, taking with it both its light and its warmth. Pretty soon, the only source of both light and heat would be the fire burning brightly in the fireplace.
She sighed. It was shaping up to be a very long night.