Never Nothing- Extra # 2
Another little extra for one of my favorite series!! Soft domestic fluff meets angst... There will be a follow up to this one, eventually.
For @the-darkdragonfly who wanted this to be a 12 part series… we’re halfway there baby
Rated T, mostly for language
~4300 words
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~~~~
“Stop it.”
“I’m only trying--”
“No, stop it.”
“My love, if you’d just--”
“I don’t want to!”
“--you may find that you feel better.”
“I won’t. I will never feel better, ever, for as long as I live. I will feel exactly this horrible every second for the rest of my miserable life.”
Killian sighs softly, smiling at her despite how much it pisses her off and running his hand through her hair. “I’m sorry you’re feeling so uncomfortable.”
“Having a baby in August is not a good plan.”
“No,” he agrees. “I’m sure you must be feeling rather miserable.”
She nods, pouting. “Extremely miserable.”
He softly kisses the tip of her nose, taking out the sunscreen he’s been begging her to wear and squirting some into his hands. “Now, just imagine how hot you’d be if we were still in Phoenix.”
“Shut up,” she grumbles, leaning forward just enough for him to get her back.
“You’re the one who suggested we come to the beach.”
She glares up at him, her lips pressed into a tight line and her brows covering her eyes almost completely. “You’re on thin ice.”
“I think you’ll find there’s no ice this time of year, my darling. It’s very hot out; it would melt.”
He can’t blame her for being miserable. At 37 weeks pregnant in late July, she can’t seem to ever get comfortable. Her back hurts her endlessly, her hips are sore, she’s been suffering with horrible heartburn, and the mood swings are difficult to keep up with.
He wouldn’t have it any other way, though.
“Why don’t we get into the water? A bit of buoyancy is sure to help your back.”
She sighs in defeat and says, “I’ll probably just get sea sick. Or eaten by a shark. Or stung by a jellyfish.”
He kisses her nose once more and takes her hand, hoisting her off of the chaise lounge and placing his palm on the small of her back where he knows she’s sore. “I’ll fight off the sharks and the jellyfish, my love.”
“Promise?” she asks as she waddles towards the shore with him.
“Of course.”
She squeals as she tries to get into the chilly water, but once they’re in and she’s used to the cold, she relaxes a bit. His heart flutters when she leans back against his chest, letting him bear her weight as he runs his hand along her bump and presses a kiss to her shoulder.
Feeling her pressed against him makes the blood rush through his veins, and he’s glad for the cold water keeping any obvious signs of his arousal at bay. He’s always found her unbelievably sexy, but seeing her in her yellow bikini, her bump on full display, is enough for him to have almost kept her home today.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she grumbles, her voice barely audible over the sounds of the waves. “And no, we’re not doing it in the ocean.”
“I would perish at the thought of sullying your purity on a public beach, love.”
“Purity,” she scoffs. “I’m knocked up at 22. Nothing pure about it.”
He kisses her neck, then her cheek, and holds her close to himself, his bare wrist pressed to the side of her belly and his hand holding it tenderly. “We've talked about this, love,” he murmurs against her skin. “How this child has come to be is not important. What’s important is how fiercely the two of us love him.”
“I know,” she agrees softly, dropping her head to his shoulder and sighing as she lets herself relax further into his hold and into the gentle current of the sea. “I just wish… sometimes I just wish you were his dad.”
He sways the two of them together gently, letting the waves carry them, and reminds her, “I fully intend to be. Biology isn’t really a factor here, my love.”
She hums happily as she lets him support every ounce of her, effectively floating just below the surface with him holding her up. “I just feel… I love this baby more than anything. I don’t regret having him, I just kind of wish you'd been the one to knock me up.”
“Me too,” he laughs, “but it’s alright, because this child will be as much my son as any that I sire.”
“I love you. Sorry I’m a bitch.”
“You’re the furthest thing from it, darling. I’ll not hear you talking about yourself in such a way.”
She hums again and shrugs. “I could probably chill out a bit. I’ve been pretty snappy.”
“Well, you’re nine months pregnant.”
“Maybe I’ll keep being bitchy after the baby’s born.”
“I hope so. I like you when you’re fired up.”
She lies in his arms for a while, content to float almost weightlessly in the water as the pressure of the babe she carries is finally relieved. He feels the lad kicking about beneath the water, likely entranced by the dancing waves, and chuckles softly each time he gets a strike to his palm.
“What would you like for dinner, my love?” he asks after a long silence falls between them.
“Chinese food,” she answers immediately.
“That’s a nice dream. What do you actually want, Miss High Blood Pressure?”
“Baaaabe,” she groans, tossing her head back against his shoulder again and gripping his forearms. “I don’t want grilled chicken.”
“You don’t have to have grilled chicken. We can stop for fish.”
“The baby wants lo mein.”
“He can have some after he’s born and his mother isn’t at risk for preeclampsia.”
She grumbles some more, her words incoherent and inaudible over the sound of the water lapping around them. “Chicken,” she finally concedes. “But only if you make that sauce you made last week.”
With a snort, he asks, “you mean the one with the bacon in it?”
“That’s the one.”
“Alright, love. Let’s get you out of the water before you give birth to a raisin.”
“You’ve gotta work on your dad jokes.”
~~~~
The days seem to be getting longer and longer, time refusing to pass at a normal pace as she lives in constant torture and betrayal of her own body. She loves being pregnant, honestly, but it’s becoming a bit tiring. The baby she’s hauling around is heavy, and her back is killing her. Killian’s being very wary of her slightly elevated blood pressure when all she wants is Chinese food and chicken nuggets. Her mom still remembers her days as a perinatal nurse and won’t stop accidentally scaring her when she talks about what she’s seen during labor.
Killian’s looking forward to the delivery, and she tries not to let that piss her off. Of course, she’s more than elated to see him so excited for their child to be born, and she’s so lucky to have a partner who will be there for her throughout the whole thing. But each time he tries to show her something he’s read in a book, or a breathing exercise they can try together during contractions, she wants to chuck something at him. After all, she doesn’t believe that he’s truly ready for what her body will be doing in just a few short weeks.
“During a contraction, I can try to massage your lower back if you’re standing. How does that sound?”
“Standing?” she asks doubtfully. “I can barely stand during cramps.”
“Don’t let him fool you; the massages don’t help,” Granny says ominously while she places her plate before her. While he’s been very strict about her diet, Killian can’t keep her from getting her French toast from Granny’s on Sunday mornings.
“And did you have a walking epidural when you delivered in the Enchanted Forest, Granny?” he asks, his tone sarcastic.
She rolls her eyes as she places his eggs in front of him.
Taking a deep breath with her eyes squeezed shut, Emma places her hand on the top of her bump as a zip of hot pain rushes up her chest and into her throat. Killian’s silent and still as he watches her, holding his fork above his plate as his brows furrow while she waits for it to pass. Once the pain subsides, he asks, “alright?”
“Heartburn,” she breathes. He pushes her glass of water towards her encouragingly as she breathes steadily. “Damn.”
“It won’t be long, love.”
“Yeah, he better make an appearance soon. I wanna meet him so bad, and I wouldn’t mind if the indigestion went away.”
“Morning,” Ruby says happily as she refills Killian’s mug, much to Emma’s jealous vexation.
“Morning Ruby. What’s the report for this week?” he asks, happily going along with her perception of herself as the town crier.
“Not much, but there’s someone new in town. Can you believe that? The dwarves are doing some research to find out if that means we can leave.”
“Well, that will certainly be interesting,” he agrees, giving Emma a happy smile. They haven’t even bothered to attempt to leave themselves, although it’s suspected that they can.
“And everyone is excited to have a newcomer.”
“I’m sure he must be a really interesting character, what with him wanting to come to Storybrooke.”
Emma snorts, digging into her breakfast once her least favorite pregnancy symptom subsides completely.
“I haven’t met him, but I’ve heard he is kind of an ass.”
Moments later, her parents bustle into the diner and greet her with a broad smile as they approach them. “Hi honey!” her mom says happily.
“Morning,” she smiles.
“How are you feeling?” she asks as she and David scoot the two of them down in their booths. “How’s my sweet little grandson?”
Mary Margaret places a gentle hand over Emma’s bump and she stiffens just a bit. It always feels weird to have anyone but Killian put their hands on her belly. “Okay. He keeps flopping around and giving me heartburn.”
She hums in understanding, patting her belly. “Have you heard about someone new being in town?”
“We were just briefed by Ruby,” Killian answers.
“Well, I met him very briefly. He’s handsome and very charming.”
“I don’t think Emma or Hook care much about that, Snow,” David says, and Emma nods.
“Well, I heard he’s coming here for breakfast today. Isn’t that exciting? You two won’t be the newcomers anymore.”
Emma laughs and nods through another bite. “I guess that’s true.”
They continue to chat through their meal, David talking about his job as an animal control officer. Apparently, they’re thinking about adopting a dog he’d rescued a week ago, and Emma’s only seen him beam like this a few times in the short time she’s known him. Things are good, the French toast isn’t giving her heartburn, she thinks she’s going to have a good day.
Until the bell above the door rings.
And he walks in.
She takes in a gasping breath, her eyes bugging out of her head as she swings her head away from the door. “Alright?” Killian asks her softly, leaning over the table and taking her hand.
She shakes her head and feels his body go rigid with panic. If they weren’t trapped in the booth by her parents, she would grab his hand and run out the back door of the diner to escape him.
“Heartburn?” Killian asks softly, not yet alerting her parents of her sudden shift in mood. “Braxton Hicks? Contractions?!”
“No,” she croaks.
“What is it, angel? Talk to me.”
She chances a look towards the door and sees him talking with Ruby, probably flirting with her shamelessly. Then, she looks back at Killian and whispers, “Neal.”
He raises a brow in thought and then she watches as the pieces of the puzzle click into place. He nods once, looking towards the door and grimacing. Ruby starts to guide Neal towards a table and Mary Margaret gives him a friendly, excited wave before Emma can stop her. She wants to put her head through the table; maybe he won’t see her if she does that.
The only saving grace is the fact that she can spread her legs out and tuck her bump under the table. The last thing she wants right now is for him to find out that he fertilized the egg that became her son.
“Mary Margaret, right? Hi,” he greets casually. “And this must be your husband, and--”
He’s staring, but not at her. He’s gaping at Killian.
“What the… Hook?”
Killian looks as baffled as Emma must, and he gives her a look of confusion that tells her he has no idea what’s going on. Only, when he looks at her, so does Neal.
“Emma?!”
“You two know each other?”
“Oh my god,” she grumbles, dropping her head to her folded arms on the table. She’d pushed her plate away, unable to eat anything more as the stress of her sperm donor making an appearance in her life eats away at her.
“Darling, perhaps we should--” Before he can continue, she kicks him under the table, not wishing to let Neal know anything personal about her, especially the fact that she and Killian are together and that she’s expecting a baby in a few weeks.
“Darling? Are you two, like, dating or something?”
“Emma and Ho-- Killian live together,” her mother supplies, and Emma rolls her eyes.
“Huh,” Neal says in response. “You sure do move on fast.”
“Mate, that’s not--”
“I’m not your mate, pirate.”
Killian chuckles awkwardly and asks, “do we know each other?”
Neal looks like he’s ready to snap, perhaps jump across the table and strangle Killian at his cocky response, but he’s interrupted by the door opening again and Mr. Gold entering the diner. “Bae,” he calls, not yet taking notice of what he’s doing or who he’s talking to. “What are you doing?”
“Bae,” Killian breathes, staring up at Neal and Mr. Gold in astonishment. “You… you’re Neal?”
“What is going on?” Emma asks through gritted teeth, wanting nothing more than to escape. The position she’s put herself in in order to hide her bump is horribly uncomfortable on her back (and she probably looks ridiculous), and all she wants to do now is go home and sit on her new couch.
“What’s going on is your boyfriend is a piece of shit,” Neal spits at her. “You sure know how to pick ‘em.”
“What, like I picked you? Lot of good that did me, what with the police, and the court hearings, and the community service, and the--”
“Honey… This is Neal? I thought your name was Bae.”
“It was,” Neal grumbles back, turning towards his father and then back to Emma. “You told your parents about me?”
“Well, she kind of had to,” David responds condescendingly. “What with the--”
“Dad. Please stop.”
“The what?”
“Son, let’s go enjoy our breakfast and leave the family drama for later.”
The baby starts wiggling just as another bout of heartburn curses her, and she hisses, pushing her fist against her chest and leaning forward even more until she’s in an awkward position. “Honey, you need some tums. I told you, they’re safe for the ba--”
“I’m fine,” she seethes, swallowing and breathing deeply through the feeling of lava crawling up her throat. She wants to leave so badly, but the moment she moves to stand, her pregnancy will become more than obvious.
“Family drama,” Neal laughs. “That’s rich, isn’t it, Hook? First my mom and now my girlfriend?”
Emma glares up at him, practicing her mom-look. “Go away,” she insists.
He scoffs and says, “Ems, come on. Let's get you out of here.”
“Excuse me?”
“Bae is Neal?” Killian asks through continued astonishment, looking down at his hand with his mouth agape, his brows furrowed.
“Stop calling me that,” Neal snaps. “You lost your right to talk to me when you killed my mother and sold me to Pan.”
Emma knows this isn’t true; Killian told her the story about the Crocodile murdering his first love in front of him. He told her about how he found her son years later and wanted to raise him as his own. She just had no idea that her son was… Neal. Evidently, Killian didn’t either.
“Neal, go away. Leave us alone like you left me to rot.”
“I did that for your own good. You had to break the curse.”
“Right,” she scoffs. She wants nothing more than to rub in his face the fact that he abandoned her, homeless and poor and pregnant, but she holds in her anger. Truthfully, Neal leaving was one of the better things to have happened to her. It gave her Killian and their baby. It brought her to her family. It helped her find out who she is.
Those facts don't make his betrayal sting any less, though.
“Killian, maybe you should take Emma home,” her mother suggests through the haze of anger and confusion surrounding the table. He looks up at Snow, his jaw still dropped towards the floor and his eyes swimming with the guilt of his past, and nods.
“Aye,” he agrees, shaking his head and taking Emma’s hands. “Come, love. Let’s sail away.”
She wants nothing more than to agree, to nod and smile at him, taking his hands and letting him lead her out of the diner, but Neal remains firmly planted outside of their booth. If she stands now, she’ll reveal herself. She looks at Killian meaningfully with wide eyes, then glances down towards her belly and up in Neal’s direction.
He understands effortlessly and turns towards Neal, asking, “do you mind, mate? We’d like to head out.”
Neal rolls his eyes and concedes, stepping away from their booth and towards his father, and Mary Margaret and David stand to give them a path out of their seats. They're almost home free-- she can see the light at the end of the diner-- Killian leading the way and effectively hiding the evidence of her pregnancy. Or so she thinks.
Just as Killian’s hand reaches the door, about to push it open and gain their sweet escape, Ruby cuts them off with an excited greeting to Emma, reaching to give her a hug as she usually does and asking, “how’s my favorite little nephew doing? What is it now; three weeks to go?”
Emma freezes, eyes wide and face pale as Killian’s back goes stiff in front of her. The diner is silent, the early breakfast rush long over, and she knows Neal heard her. It’s confirmed when she hears the scratch of the chair against the floor as he stands and calls, “what, so he knocked you up, too? What a stand-up guy.”
The blood in her veins chills at his statements. Her jaw starts hurting with how forcefully she’s clenching it. She watches Killian turn around and fears that he’s going to confront Neal with the truth. In reality, though, he turns and looks only at her, taking her hands in his easily despite the fact that one is missing, courtesy of her ex’s father. “It’s alright,” he whispers, showing her just how much he understands her. Showing her that he can tell exactly what she’s thinking; can read the fear in her eyes at the thought of Neal finding out that this child is technically a part of him. “We can go,” he tells her.
She can’t help but to spin around, half turning to face Neal with tearfilled eyes, looking at him just once so that she can remind herself of the mistakes she’s made in her past. So that she can compare the despair he brought her with the joy that Killian brings so effortlessly. But it’s a mistake. She watches as his face falls, seemingly seeing just how pregnant she really is.
“Is that… are you…” He looks up at the ceiling, flexing his fingers as if counting on them. Counting the months since they were last together. Realizing it’s been almost nine months since their last encounter. Taking in just how large her bump is. “Emma…?”
She should just turn around and leave, or ignore him; refuse to give attention to his thoughts so that she doesn't spur them on. But instead, she lets out a choked sob and buries her face in her hands as her tears flow freely.
Killian’s hand is on her back immediately, running soothing circles along her skin as he moves to stand in front of her and blocks her view of the rest of the world, consuming her with only his ocean-blue eyes. “It’s alright,” he whispers again.
“Did she say three weeks left? Is that…”
“It’s okay,” he murmurs, and although Neal’s voice cuts through the air between them like a knife, all she sees is Killian.
“I wanna go home,” she cries softly, clinging to his hand and hook.
“We will,” he promises.
“Emma, is that my kid?”
She can’t respond. All she can do is tilt her body slightly so that she’s looking past Killian’s right into Neal’s eyes, showing him the truth in her own. She can’t tell him with words that he fathered a child with her, but she knows that the look on her face is enough confirmation when his own pales and he drops back down in his chair.
He only stays there for a second before forcefully standing again, the chair colliding with the floor. Gold begs, “Bae,” reaching his hand towards his son, and Neal violently rips away from his father.
“Don’t!” He shouts. “Fuck.”
Before anyone can say anything, Neal is stalking towards Emma and Killian, and she almost feels nervous for a second, until he brushes past the two of them and slams his way out the door.
~~~~
Her lip trembles as he shuts the door, and she spins into his arms the second he locks it, bursting into tears easily. “He’s gonna take him,” she cries.
“Emma, no. That isn’t going to happen, love.”
She sobs some more, gripping his shirt with white knuckles, nodding into his neck and pulling him as close to herself as she possibly can with the bump between them. “He is.”
“You saw his face when he found out, darling. He has no interest. He’s already running.”
“Everything was so perfect. Now it’s ruined.”
“Nothing is ruined, my love,” he argues. “What makes you even say that?”
She shudders in his arms, whimpering pathetically as the hormones take over and the fear of losing her child consumes her. “I wanted--” she chokes. “I wanted you to be his dad.”
When he pulls away from her, forcing her face from his neck, she cries out again, pained at the thought that she’s losing him, too. “Angel,” he murmurs softly, soothingly. “I am his dad. Perhaps the lad will simply be lucky enough to have two.”
The violence behind her choked breathing is palpable between the two of them, showing him just how distraught she truly is as she asks, “you mean-- you mean you’re not leaving?”
“You silly thing,” he breathes through a gentle laugh, pressing their foreheads together. “Do you really believe that that fool coming into our lives will sway me? I love you. Both of you.”
Her bottom lip trembles again as his hand slides along the side of her belly, the baby kicking against his palm in greeting. The fact that he didn’t stir when faced with his biological father doesn’t get past her as he wiggles against his dad lovingly. She lets out one last soft, whimpering sob and sniffles before saying, “I love you. We both love you.”
He kisses her gently despite the tears and snot, making her laugh lightly. “Bae knows what it is to have an absent father, love. I’m… I’m truly shocked to know that the boy who lived on my ship all those years ago has done this to you. But I do believe that, now that he knows, he’ll do what he can to support you and the little lad. I believe he’ll do the right thing.”
“Maybe I don’t want him to,” she pouts.
He smiles, cupping her cheek, and says, “that’s valid. And I know you're scared. But we’ll just have to sort out what’s best for the little one.”
With a heaving sigh, she drops her forehead to his chest and shuts her eyes. “Right now, what’s best for the little one is a nap.”
“It’s only 10:30,” he jests, but despite his argument, he places his hand on the small of her back and guides her towards their bedroom. “Need a snack?”
“More French toast.”
“No. An apple.”
“Never mind,” she grumbles, pouting as she collapses on the bed and holds up her feet until he starts pulling her sandals off. He shakes his head as he laughs lightly, running his thumb over her swollen feet and kissing her cankles. “Killian?” she whispers quietly.
“Aye, love?” he asks, almost as softly as he crawls up towards her and helps her lean back onto the bed.
She grunts unattractively as her swollen body flops like a fish across the mattress, drawing a soft smile from his lips. “I’m scared,” she whispers when his front wraps around her back.
“Aye, love. I know.” His hand slides across her giant bump, the baby kicking him gently, and kisses just behind her ear. “But you’re going to be fantastic. You’re so strong, and smart, and capable of anything you set your mind to.”
“Then why can’t I just magic him out of here?”
“Bae?” he asks with a surprised laugh.
“Yeah, I’ve been trying since we got home.”
“You are a silly thing. And I love you very much.”
With a contented hum, she pulls him closer to her despite the heat. “I love you, but let me sleep now.”
“As you wish, my angel.”
~~~~
~~~~
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