Shorty
A guest asked for a oneshot of Emma not being able to reach something high up and her dad helping her out.
"Dammit!" Emma cried out as she tumbled off of the chair and narrowly avoided cracking her head off of the kitchen tiles. Hearing the commotion, Charming ran into the room.
"Woh there, you alright?" He asked, helping her up and quickly checking over her head. Emma nodded, gingerly feeling it herself. "What were you doing up there anyway?"
"The only jar of pickles is on the top shelf. I can't reach it without this stupid chair." Emma grumbled. Charming bit his lip to stop himself from laughing. His poor little shorty.
"Well in future reference," He said, reaching up and grabbing the jar "just call me through and I'll get it. Pickles are a lot harder to enjoy from a hospital bed with concussion." He said, handing her the jar. Emma grunted a thanks as she took it and grabbed a fork. "That better, shorty pie?" He teased her. Emma shot him a look that made Charming grateful Emma's magic didn't go as far as "death vision". Emma stomped off through to the living room with the jar in one hand and the fork in the other. Charming realised why she wanted the pickle jar so badly. Maybe teasing her wasn't the best idea…no matter how funny his little shorty was when grumpy.