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For Practical Purposes Only (Full Version - CS AU)

This story started a very long time ago with a snippet that people liked and wanted a longer version of - so after you all have waited for way too long, here it is. Thanks for being so patient.

For those who don’t remember, or who never read the original short piece, this is a “Emma asks Killian to marry her so that it’s easier for her to adopt Henry” story, now with the addition of bedsharing. 13,000 words.

“I found him.”

He saw the name Henry Mills on the manila folder she tossed onto the coffee table before she disappeared in the deep recesses of his couch. He racked his brain, trying to remember which skip this was, but nothing came to mind.

“And what was Mr. Mills’ crime, love? Are you anticipating a struggle?” He never doubted that Emma could take care of herself. The woman was a force to be reckoned with when it came to apprehending the men and women of Boston who felt they could skip out on their bail. But he wished that she took fewer chances all the same.

He hadn’t taken his eyes off the Red Sox game, knowing Emma would fill him in on the details of the case, as well as her plan for luring the suspect into a meeting that would allow her to get the handcuffs on. She was brilliant at that.

Her silence at his question signaled that something about Henry Mills was out of the ordinary.

“Emma?” He turned, moving the side of the cushion away from her face to check and see if she hadn’t fallen asleep, but her semi-glazed over eyes indicated she was simply deep in thought. “Emma, what’s going on?” He picked up the remote and quickly hit the mute button, and pulled her to a more upright position.

“Emma, is this Mills person someone I need to be worried about? What can I do? Or anyone do. There are other bail bonds agencies you can call in for assistance, love. No need to go it alone.”

The panic in his voice had risen, snapping Emma out of the daze she’d allowed herself to drift into after entering his apartment.

“Calm down, Jones.” She settled back, but still nothing about her body language put Killian at ease. “He’s not a bail jumper.” She folded her arms over her chest, and rubbed her biceps a few times before continuing. “Just look at the file.“

He grabbed for the folder, ready to do anything that could stifle his concern. Worry turned to confusion when inside he found a photo of a pre-teen boy, Henry Mills, along with a birth certificate, school report cards, and a record of group and foster home transfers. It wasn’t until he noticed the date and location of the boy’s birth that he put the pieces together.

Phoenix, 2007.

Oh.

“Oh. Oh, Emma.” He put his arm around her, hoping that she would be alright with the comforting gesture. Obviously she didn’t want to be alone, or she wouldn’t have come over, but he didn’t know exactly what she wanted from him. “I didn’t know you were still looking. You haven’t said anything.”

She had become obsessed the year earlier, looking for the boy she’d given up for adoption as a teenager. Alone and in jail, she thought adoption would give the child his best chance at a happy life. Now leading a stable life of her own, she had started to second guess herself, and searched out the child. Having grown up alone, an orphan shuttled from one foster home to another, she needed to know that her son’s fate was better than her own. The previous year she’d nearly driven herself mad with looking, only to find dead end after dead end. He’d grown worried as he watched what the sleepless nights and fruitless searching had done to her, but she gradually had dropped it, and hadn’t mentioned it again.

Until today.

She made no mention of the ugliness of last year. “He’s here Killian. In a group home. Right here in Boston. He was supposed to have a better life.” He nodded in acknowledgment. He knew the world of group homes and foster care. There had been some time between his mother’s death and his brother coming of age, and with no other family, Killian spent the better part of two years shuttled in and out of different homes. It wasn’t something he talked about frequently, but early in their acquaintance, a bottle of rum and a late night brought the story out of him, and if he’d known how Emma Swan would have reacted to knowing his history, it would have been the first thing he told her about himself. The withdrawn woman who let no personal details slip, started to open up and their friendship was cemented.

There was no need for him to ask her what she was going to do. He knew what every orphan wanted. What every single kid he met at that home wanted. What Emma must have dreamed about every night. A family.

“So how are you going to handle it?” It wasn’t a question of whether she was going to get him out, but how.

“I called an adoption attorney this afternoon. She says I have a strong case for an adoption. Except for the fact that I have a dangerous job and that I’m single.”

They sank back into the couch, both lost in thought.

Hearing that her job was an obstacle to the adoption slightly delighted Killian. If there were something that would induce Swan to take something slightly less dangerous, he’d be all for it. Of course, he would never be the one to suggest it.

He’d un-muted the game, and watched as Emma ordered a pizza from her phone. Neither moved until she went to the kitchen to grab beers from the fridge, and as she handed him another bottle, she sank back down. He could tell something was still weighing on her mind, but was going to let her lead the conversation.

Finally, she came out with it.

“Killian.”

“Yes, love?”

“What if I didn’t have to be single?”

“How’s that?”

“Would you marry me?”

He choked on his beer when he heard the question.

“Just for the adoption process. I mean, once the paperwork is all sorted we can get a divorce or an annulment or whatever. But I don’t want anything to stand in the way, and you’re the only one I can ask. Please?”

Killian Jones had imagined dating Emma Swan over the years. He’d imagined every various scenario of asking her out, her saying yes, and finally her realizing she’d been in love with him all along. Some days, when he was feeling particularly good about himself, he’d let those fantasies progress to marriage.

Never once, in their eight years of acquaintance, did his imagination ever come up with a scenario like this.

“My case is strong, so they’re not going to look into it too much. I would need to show to his case worker that I’m married. There would likely be a home visit. Then a court date. Honestly, it’s a birth mother getting her own kid back. It’s going to be a slam dunk.”

He never dreamed that he would want to reject Emma Swan’s proposal of marriage. But if he were going to marry Emma, he wanted it to be because they loved each other. Not for any convenience. But when he thought about the boy in a group home, a boy who was Emma’s flesh and blood, there was no way he could refuse.

He took a sip of beer to give himself a last moment of consideration before turning to her. “Alright, Emma Swan. Let’s get married.”

Conflicted. That was the only way he could describe how he felt upon waking up the morning of their wedding. He took a moment in bed, scrubbing his hand over his face, to think that while tomorrow he would wake a married man, he would wake no less alone than he was this morning.

He’d spent the week since her proposal half ready to tell her he was in love with her and that to him this wasn’t just about helping her get her son. But every time he started he, he stopped himself knowing what her reaction would be. She would call off the wedding saying she couldn’t lead him on. She would explain she didn’t feel about him the same way, and couldn’t start anything if he thought there was a chance. His selfishness would leave her back where she was, unmarried, with a long road ahead before she could reclaim her boy.

He couldn’t do that to her. Not when he was getting what he wanted, just not exactly on his terms. So he proceeded to rise and dress, and face the fate he’d agreed to. A fate of having the woman he loved as his wife, if only for show.

And even if it was only for show, he couldn’t help but want to go all out. He arrived at her apartment in a suit and tie with a bouquet, insisting that they should at least look the part for a photo or two, and sent her back into her room to change into something presentable.

“Emma, what if someone asks to see a photo and we can’t produce one. Or worse still, you’re in your red leather jacket and boots stood next to me in my best suit. That won’t exactly look like we’re the happy couple we’re meant to be.”

She took his breath away when she finally exited her bedroom, a pale pink embroidered dress exposing a modest amount of chest as the full skirt swished about her knees.

The look she shot him dared him to laugh, but he had no intention. “Swan, you look…” he couldn’t complete the thought. “I’ve never seen you in this.”

“I found it at a thrift store. I was trying to catch a skip whose tastes veered more towards the demure. My usual dresses wouldn’t do the trick, and this one worked pretty well. Don’t you dare say anything.”

He had no words to describe what a vision she made, at least none he could share with her without inviting her wrath, so he complied, and led her out the door.

Their trip to the courthouse was in silence. He, who could usually read her like a book, couldn’t imagine what her thoughts were, but his were fully engaged in how different he would like their circumstances to be.

Years ago, as their relationship was taking shape, he’d often considered trying for more. Flirtatious by nature, Emma always rolled her eyes and rebuffed any advance as though he were joking. He assumed that at some point, if Emma ever really were interested, she would have let him know. So little by little, he focused his attentions where they might be appreciated, and stayed in Emma’s safe zone, friendship.

Some days he rued that choice, as it doomed him to live a life with what he wanted, but knew he could never have, just out of reach. If only Emma felt differently, today could be so perfect. They could be starting their family. If Emma’s son were anything like her, he would love that boy beyond reason, and the lad would be gaining not one parent, but two.

His silent reflections continued through their vows. As he looked her in the eyes and repeated the words the Justice of the Peace spoke, she couldn’t know how truly he meant them. She always claimed she could tell when someone was lying, and he wondered if she could see there was no lie in his pledge; for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, until death parted them. He slid the slim gold band onto her finger, and waited as she did the same. He’d honestly forgotten the last bit of the ceremony, and held his breath when he realized what came next. He barely heard the words, focusing only on the look in Emma’s eyes and waited for the barely perceptible nod, before leaning in and pressing his lips gently to hers.

He was in a daze as they signed the paperwork and handed phones off to nearby witnesses for photos. Eight years of imagining what Emma Swan’s kiss would feel like, and he had his answer. For one brief second, everything in the world stopped, and life was perfect. He forgot where they were, or why she was pressed so close, and had begun to lift his hand to pull her in closer, knowing that he needed more when he felt her pull away, and crashed back to reality.

He searched her eyes for some sign that she felt the same, but her eyes told him nothing. She had shaken off the encounter and already moved on to the door. A moment he had wanted forever, and she couldn’t wait to get away.

“Humor me, Swan. Please?” He gestured toward the door as he opened it, and she proceeded, as though a lunch at a nice restaurant was an inconvenience. “I know you’re a woman of action, but we can’t just go pick up your son right now, and you may as well let me treat my wife to a nice meal out. After all, soon we’ll have a boy to think of, and I fear our short dating life will have come to an end. We need to enjoy it while it lasts.”

He loved when he could make her roll her eyes, all while trying to stifle a smile. Emma tried so hard to present a tough exterior to the world, but occasionally he could break through that shell.

He waited until their entrees arrived before breaking out the questions both had been avoiding since the moment he agreed to the scheme.

“Emma, you realize you can’t bring Henry home to your apartment, right?” He knew she was excellent at planning for all contingencies. He’d watched her plan stake outs and take downs on a regular basis. Emma Swan covered her bases. He knew that the woman sitting across from him had already realized her studio apartment in a somewhat dilapidated building was not an acceptable home for her son. If she’d gone so far as to get married, he knew she had something in store for their living arrangements.

“Yes.” It was one word, but he could tell from the slightly embarrassed look on her face that she’d been hesitating to talk with him on the subject.

“Well, what’s the plan?”

She clasped her hands, rubbing at the new band of gold circling her finger as he could tell she tried to process exactly how she wanted to address it.

“He’s ten.”

Not understanding, he was confused and waited for her to continue.

“He’s ten, and what if he tells someone we’re faking it? Before the adoption is final. He can’t know.”

“Alright, that makes sense. What do you propose?”

Again, she quieted a moment and he waited. “I’ll give up my apartment, and Henry and I can move in with you. That way, when the adoption is final and we tell him, he and I can look for a place together.”

Her plan made sense. All except for one thing.

“My place only has two bedrooms. Are you proposing you share with the boy? Or am I to sleep on the sofa in my own apartment for as many months as the adoption takes?”

She closed her eyes to say the next bit.

“We have to share, Killian” He froze. “Otherwise what’s the point? He’s not going to believe we’re happily married if we don’t even sleep in the same room. Please?”

He was silent as she continued to detail all the reasons that they needed to appear as happy husband and wife, and outlined the practicality of her plan. He was barely listening. All he knew is that Emma Swan was the one to suggest they share a bed. Months of her beside him as they fell asleep, pretending to be a happily married couple. Months of adjusting to the intimacy that sharing space would bring. Months of waking to her at his side.

Months for her to see through his facade and realize he was madly in love with her, and that if she’d just open her eyes, she felt the same way.

She was halfway through an apology for trapping him into the marriage before entailing everything she had in mind when he stopped her.

“Emma, stop, love. It’s fine. I understand.” He grabbed her hand from across the table, hoping the gentle touch would calm her down. “You’re right. Ten is too young to know the truth. And until we know your boy can be trusted, we have to maintain appearances.”

He saw her visibility sigh in relief at his words, and felt her squeeze his hand in return.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you?”

Rather than say that she wouldn’t ever find out, he put her off with a joke. “I know this much, Swan. You’d be eating a package of cold Pop Tarts for lunch right now if it weren’t for me. Now, enjoy your meal please before it gets cold. We can figure the rest out later.”

Now that she was married, she felt like she could finally go meet her son. Emma had wanted to wait until all the pieces were in place, and she felt like nothing could stand in the way. The last thing she’d wanted to do was to get his hopes up, if anything were to fall through. As they drove to the home Henry was currently staying in, Killian could see her nerves starting to show.

“It’s okay, Swan. It’s going to be fine.” He reached over and put his hand on her knee to stop the bouncing. He had an uncanny ability to know what was going through her mind, and was usually able to quench any fears without her needing to voice them. “He’s going to love you. I know that.”

“How do you know that? I’m not exactly the warmest person, Killian.”

“He’s your kid, love. He’s going to appreciate how much you’ve already done to bring him into your life.”

She rolled her eyes at Killian’s confidence in her. “What if I can’t do it? What do I know about being a mom? I’ve never even had one.”

He laughed. “Lots of people who had parents fail, Swan. The big thing here is that you want him. You want to save him from the childhood you had. You want better for him. That’s all you’ve ever wanted for him. And you’re going to do whatever it takes to make that happen. And I’ve never seen you fail at anything.” He squeezed her knee as he said this, and her only response was to purse her lips and stare out the window. He counted it as a victory that she didn’t fight back.

“We haven’t discussed my role in all of this, I mean, my role in your boy’s life?”

She understood what he meant. Killian wasn’t a part of the adoption process aside from the marriage paperwork. It was only her name on the form. She went to the Child Services group with the explanation that she was his biological mother, and that of course they wanted to be sure Henry and Killian took to each other before they were shackled together. It seemed plausible enough in her head, and no one had questioned it yet.

“I think we stay with the same story that we’ve told everyone else. I’m his mother. You’re my husband. But you’re not his dad. Less confusion when it’s all said and done.”

His heart sunk as it did every time she mentioned the end. Of course that’s the way it would be, but it was easier to keep up with the fantasy in his head when her words weren’t so concrete.

They’d pulled along the street in front of the home. It was an old brownstone in a more rundown part of the city, but looked well kept. He could see the relief on her face when she noted the bikes chained to the front railing. Bikes. That meant that whoever was running the place was at least putting money into the things kids needed, and some of it towards what they wanted.

As they walked up to the door, he felt his arm grow heavy when she reached for his hand. She was on the wrong side to actually get his real hand, and instead only ended up with his prosthetic, but it was one of the things he loved the most about her. She had no qualms about his missing appendage, or its metal and plastic replacement. It was probably best that she had the faux hand, as he was sure his hand would have been crushed so tight was her grip.

The door opened and a few children ran out before either had a chance to ring the bell. All were laughing and an adult voice called out after them. “Be back by 7 for dinner or you’ll be lucky if there’s even a plate to lick.” The voice tried to sound menacing, but there was definitely a joking tone. Killian knew that any child late would still find a full plate waiting. He had a feeling life would have been a lot different for himself, and definitely for Emma, if either had spent any time in this home.

A petite, dark haired woman appeared in the doorway as they arrived and greeted them.

“Oh, hello. Sorry about the hooligans. Hope none of them ran you down.”

Emma was quiet for a moment, still taking it in. Killian wanted to wait to let her speak, and was glad when she found her voice. He had only spent two years in and out of group homes, all that time being visited by his brother, knowing he was getting out. For Emma, this must have been like returning to your worst memories, and he was not going to push her.

“Um, no, hi. I’m actually hoping the kid I’m here to see didn’t just go past me. I’m Emma Swan. They should have told you I would be coming over.”

The woman’s face lit up. “Henry’s mother! Yes, yes. He’s upstairs reading. I haven’t told him anything about you, or that you were coming even. I didn’t want to get his hopes up in case you didn’t come. It’s just sometimes things fall through, and I know it’s my job but I can’t see them sad like that.”

The woman led them upstairs, and showed them to a small sitting room, full of worn out sofas, bean bag chairs, and full to the brim of books and board games and all kinds of things kids could amuse themselves with. Longways on the sofa was her son. She knew what he looked like. She’d found a few photos. She was already prepared to see his father’s eyes looking back at her. But now was the time to find out the rest. Was he going to have his father’s laugh. His voice. His carefree spirit? Or was he going to be more like her? She hoped he was his own person. The boy deserved more than what she and his father could have given him.

“Henry you have a visitor.”

He looked up from his book, and smiled. That smile killed her. 13 years of abandonment had left her scared and closed off to everyone. She would never have greeted anyone so openly, and here was her son, looking up at her and welcoming her.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” She couldn’t say anything more. She looked to the woman, and then at Killian. Hoping one of them would say the words that needed to be said. Both remained silent.

“I’m Henry. Who are you?”

Again, she looked to the other adults for backup, but neither came to her rescue. It took her a moment. She’d faced criminals guilty of every crime imaginable, but the boy in front of her instilled her with more fear than anything she’d ever encountered. “Hi Henry. I’m Emma.” It took another deep breath, but she continued. “I’m your mother. Well, obviously not your mother, but I gave birth to you.” She felt the need to clarify. As a child, she’d imagined meeting her parents so many times. In those fantasies, she’d always thrown the words back at her. “You’re not my mother. You’re just the woman who gave birth to me.” She wanted to acknowledge to her son that she knew the difference.

She waited for his reaction. For screaming, for yelling. For the recriminations and questions of why she gave him away. What was wrong with him that she couldn’t keep him. All the things she wanted to do. All the things she wanted to ask and never gotten the chance. Now that she was in the other position, she was terrified.

Instead, she watched as his eyes went wide, and he got up from the couch to throw his arms around her waist. Her hands dropped to the top of his head, before she finally let herself go and hugged him back. This was not a scenario she had planned for.

She’d never been hugged so tight in her life.

It felt a little uncomfortable.

It felt good.

She looked up and saw Killian smiling, although she could see in his eyes the smugness she knew she was going to hear about later. He’d had all the faith in the world that the boy was going to be happy to see her. And how he knew he’d be right she’d never know. She was just happy he was right.

As soon as he let go of her, she heard the question she’d been dreading. But the boy asked without any hostility or blame, “So, why did you give me up?”

She’d already discussed this with Kilian, and they’d both agreed honesty was the best tact.

“I was really young, and your dad turned out to not be the best guy. He stole a bunch of watches and then framed me for the theft. I didn’t find out I was pregnant until I was in jail, but he’d already left me and I had no idea where he was. I figured you’d have a better chance in life with a mom who wasn’t a teenage jailbird with a GED.”

She watched as her son nodded, as though he understood everything completely. The report cards indicated that he was smart, but she knew there was more to being smart than just grades. It looked to her like her kid had both. “You wanted to give me my best chance.”

She smiled at him. Her first real smile, at knowing he understood. “Yeah. Exactly.” She turned to Killian for the first time. “I was in the foster system since I was born. And this is my husband Killian. He was a foster kid, too. Anyway, I was talking to him a couple years ago about being in the system, and after that I just couldn’t get you off my mind.” She noticed Killian’s head snap up at that. They’d never talked about their conversation being the spark that started her search for Henry. “I mean, I always wondered about you, knowing what my life was like. But Killian too. After that, I knew I had to find you. Sorry it took so long, kid.”

He took the keys from her as soon as they walked out the front door. There was no question than she was too emotional to drive. After she sat in the passenger seat, he knelt at her side for a moment, taking her hand. “Swan, you did a great job in there. He doesn’t blame you at all. That went better than could have ever been expected. And he’s a really great lad, love. “

He noticed the tear streaming down her cheek as she looked straight out the windshield. Nothing more could be said right now. He’d get her home. She needed time to think about everything that just transpired. She’d told him about how she’d fantasize about meeting her parents. Yelling at them. Badgering them with questions. And she had told him that she worried her son would do the same thing. That’s what she’d prepared herself for. So now that nothing went according to her plan, she needed to recalibrate. Of course, Emma Swan was good at that. She just needed some time.

About a block from the apartment when she finally spoke.

“Killian, how did you know to do that?”

“Do what love?

“Give Henry our business cards with our cell phone numbers.”

“Oh, that. I remembered that when I was living in the homes, it felt better to know that I could at least call Liam. Even if I couldn’t be with him, I could talk to him. And that way if Henry worries that we might not come back, he can call us. He’s not just left waiting for us to return now. He’s got some control.”

“Thank you.”

“T’was just a business card.”

“You know what I mean. Thank you for everything. I couldn’t do any of this without you. I mean, not just the adoption but even coming here today.”

“You could have. You know you could have. I’ve yet to see you fail at anything. And this certainly won’t be the first thing, Emma. Now let’s get you home.”

Initially Emma didn’t have any idea of how long it would take to get Henry into her custody. There had been some discussion that seeing as she was his biological mother, once a few background checks were done, they would let him go home with her and Killian while the adoption was formally processed. It was what she had been hoping for. But no one would tell her if it was going to take weeks or months. Killian cleared out his home office and made way for all the items necessary for a small boy. A bed, a smallish desk and a bookshelf. They found a few other odds and ends to make it seem a bit more homey. Emma didn’t want to do too much to decorate it though, knowing that it would all be work Killian would have to undo when they ultimately moved out.

Her stuff was easy to move as well. A few of the pieces of furniture Killian welcomed gladly saying they filled the holes in his living room. Her dresser went into his room to make way for her clothes. He’d made room in his closet and bathroom for her as well. It was better that she moved in early, as the home visit would happen before Henry even stepped foot through the door.

The home visit wasn’t what worried her. She knew they could fool anyone. They knew each other inside and out. She could handle day to day life with Killian as well. Eight years of friendship had prepared them for that. No, it was what happened at night that had Emma in a panic. As much as she was dying for the day Henry would come home to her, she knew she would need to move out of his small Ikea bed, and finally truly share space with Killian.

Now as she fell asleep in her son’s bed, she thought of the man on the other side of the wall, and how everything would change when he was only an arm’s length away. If that. His light snores would be the soundtrack as she tried to clear her mind of his presence. She imagined she wouldn’t be sleeping much in the coming months, too anxious about what she might betray in her sleep to truly relax.

There’d been an instant attraction when she first met Killian. It would have been impossible to deny the draw of his blue eyes and charm. She’d almost given him a chance. A late night and a bottle of rum, she had decided she was ready for a one night fling with the man whose constant flirtations were a temptation she no longer wanted to fight. All until the rum loosened his tongue and he started talking about his youth. His tale of abandonment so closely matched her own that she no longer saw him as he had initially presented himself, a shameless flirt. Now he was more, a kindred spirit. Another lost kid just looking for a family. A new friend.

And from then on, Emma could never do anything to jeopardize that. She could find company in any bar, any night, anywhere in the city. Friends were too few and far between.

Over the years, the thought of both would sneak in unwanted. What if he could be both? She would shake the thought from her head as fast as possible. There was no use. No one who had ever loved her stayed. She could never risk their friendship on the possibility of more. Sometimes getting rid of that thought was harder than others. Like the nights when he sat too close on the couch, and she could feel the heat emanating off of him, calling her to scoot closer until he would wrap his arm around her and pull her close. Or when she was at his place between stake outs, and he would come home from the gym and strip off his sweaty t-shirt, exposing her to the chest she so desperately wanted to touch. Or the nights she would catch him looking at her with this certain look in his eyes, like she meant everything to him, and she would have to convince herself that neither of them could act on it, or it would all come crashing to pieces.

Nothing in eight years could have ever convinced her it was worth the risk she was taking now. Living in his apartment. Sharing every meal. Sleeping in his bed. It was going to be near impossible.

It was going to ruin everything.

But she had to do it for Henry.

Visits to Henry at the Children’s Home became regular. She was there 3 times a week, without fail. Killian joined her for the first visits. Emma said she needed the backup. Despite her son’s complete understanding, she was constantly on the ready for an attack. But as she grew used to him, she felt less inclined to beg for Killian’s company on the visits. She knew that Killian would have come, and in fact Henry and her faux-husband seemed to be friends from the start. But she knew Killian thought it was important that she have time alone with Henry. And eventually, it didn’t seem as awkward.

It helped that Henry liked to talk. Emma would listen as he shared all of the details of his life. Her boy was smart and liked to read. There was always a new book or something that he was learning at school. The group home provided him with other kids to talk to. As much as she wanted to hate herself for what she had done, her son certainly didn’t seem too much worse for her decision, and certainly he wasn’t holding it against her. The more she came to understand that, the easier each visit became.

And so the day that she got the call from her lawyer Emma was ecstatic. It was a moment before the worries set in again. Would he miss his friends? Would he like his room? Would he like her enough to want to stay? Would he pick up on the fact that not everything was on the level with her relationship with Killian?

Henry could barely sit still on the way home. She and Killian were peppered with questions about how far away they lived and if they had any pets. It was all information Henry already knew, but Emma sensed he was almost as nervous as she was, and was trying to break the tension. She already knew her son had better interpersonal skills than she had ever developed. Killian’s suggestion of stopping for dinner somewhere was met with a quick dismissal from all sides, as though everyone was ready to pull off the bandaid and finally get Henry home.

He had never been shy, and that was completely apparent the second he entered the apartment and started opening doors and poking his head into all of the spaces.

“Hey, kid, that room is off limits. That’s mine and Killian’s bedroom. The one on the left is yours.” She made note that they would definitely need to be careful. He was going to catch everything.

He dumped his things in his room and came back out into the living room, more interested in his family than finally having a space to himself. Emma noted that it was always the opposite when she went home with a family. After so much time sharing, a room to herself was coveted.

Emma and Killian glanced at each other, not exactly sure what to do now. He had taken back up his study of the items in the house, but stopped at the framed picture from their wedding day.

“How long have you been married?”

KIllian was quick to answer. Emma was too startled by this being her son’s first question in his new home. “A month.” The truth was going to be the easiest to maintain, even if it were a slightly altered version.” We’ve been together forever, but it makes your mother’s case stronger for the adoption if we’re married.”

Henry accepted the answer and continued his inspection of the apartment as Killian and Emma both breathed a sigh of relief. Killian had to smile a bit to himself as he watched the boy take in the apartment. Emma never missed a clue, and it seemed Henry followed in his mother’s footsteps. “What’s this?”

“Ah, that’s a sextant. You use it for navigating at sea. Well, used to. Nowadays it’s all GPS. But every proper sailor knows how to use one of these. That one is old, more for decoration. I’ve got another on my boat.” They’d already discussed his love of the sea, and Killian was shocked to find out a boy growing up in Boston had never been out on the water. Promises had been made.

Emma sat on the couch silent as she watched her son and Killian talking as though everything were normal. As though tonight wasn’t some turning point that would change her life, and Henry’s. Killian was preparing dinner, answering Henry’s questions and filling in with bits of stories. As this new life was unfolding, she again had to appreciate just how much Killian was doing for her. She could have gotten the adoption without him. It would have taken longer, but eventually she would have gotten her son home. But this, bringing him home and having it feel right? She needed Killian for this.

Of course, not everything was going to be perfect right off the bat. Ten year olds didn’t come with instruction manuals. She had spent the past month reading books on adoption and internet advice columns on raising kids, but every bit of advice conflicted. And it wasn’t as though she had friends she could go to with questions. So as she had done with most everything in life, she decided to go with her gut. And that was to trust her kid.

“Hey, Henry. What time’s bedtime for you?”

“We have to go to our rooms at 9PM, but it’s not lights out until 9:30. Whenever I wasn’t sharing I could stay up late reading as long as they didn’t get reports from my teacher at school that I was tired.” That sounded right to Emma.

She lingered in the living room as long as she could on Henry’s first night home. He had long gone to bed, and Killian turned in as soon as the baseball game was over. But she wasn’t quite ready to face her new bed. The light still on in Henry’s room gave her just one more excuse to delay.

“Henry.” She said his name with a faint knock on the door. He needed to know that his room was his, and that this new life came with privacy. There was a sleepy reply on the other side of the door, and she opened it. Curled up in a tight little ball with a book still clutched in one hand, Henry was fighting falling asleep. She moved the book to the side and sat on his bed. “Hey kid, that book will still be here tomorrow.”

She wasn’t sure if it was normal, this push to stay awake or if it was something more. As she reached to put out the light, something stirred, and she let herself do something she hadn’t given herself permission to yet. She hadn’t earned the right. She leaned over and smoothed the hair away from his forehead, and leaned over to press a kiss to his forehead.

“Goodnight, Mom.” Henry’s voice was sleepy, and she knew he wasn’t really awake. He didn’t mean to call her mom. But he had, and she started crying. She may not have raised him, but he was hers now, and she was going to do everything to protect him for the rest of his life.

Killian was still awake when she finally entered what was now their bedroom.

“Is the lad asleep?” “Yes.” She couldn’t hide the way her voice wanted to break. And Killian was too perceptive not to notice the tears that had welled up.

“What’s wrong, love?” He moved to stand up, but she motioned for him to stay in bed. She wouldn’t be able to keep it together if she talked about it. The weight of his gaze was heavy as she crossed the room towards the bathroom to get ready.

“It’s nothing. Really,” she said as she shut the door. She was glad to have a few moments to herself to clear her thoughts before facing what was to be their bed. She’d moved her things into the room earlier in the day, before they picked up Henry. Killian had left a nightstand open for her, and she noticed he’d made the bed up with clean sheets. It was another reminder of just how much her best friend had turned his life upside down for her and her son. She couldn’t mess this up by wanting more. And right now, she needed her best friend more than anything. When she was finally ready to exit, teeth brushed and dressed in carefully chosen pyjamas, she realized it wasn’t as awkward climbing into bed next to him as she imagined. Instead of picking up her phone to text him with whatever was on her mind like she usually would have done, now all she had to do was speak.

“He called me Mom, Killian. What do I do?”

He rolled to his side to get a better look at her before she turned out the light.

“You say ‘yes, son.’”

“But I’m not his mom. I haven’t done anything. I gave birth to him and then abandoned him.”

She slouched down into the bed and rolled towards him, glad she could just make out his face in the dim light shining through the windows.

“You came back for him, love. You’ve brought him home. You’ve been showing him you care every day since you walked back into his life. For him, that’s enough. If the boy thinks you’ve earned the title, let yourself have it. It will look good on you.”

He watched as she absorbed his words.

“You can do this, Emma. And remember, I’m here to help.”

Her last thoughts as she drifted off to sleep were about how grateful she was for Killian. Without his reassurances she would have tossed and turned all night over her new title. Now, she could tuck away her worries and fall asleep, listening to the steady rise and fall of Killian’s snores, knowing she could count on him for anything.

When Killian woke the next morning to the clatter of dishes in the kitchen, he smiled at the weight of the head on his chest and the hand that had snaked its way under his t-shirt. If this is how he was to wake in the coming months, he would be a happy man. If there were feelings Emma fought while conscious, but it seemed her body had no issues while asleep. He took a moment to enjoy what could be before another clang made him think better. If Emma were to stir and realize she had found comfort in his arms while sleeping, she’d retreat from him all day. He had no desire to spend her son’s first day home with Emma skittishly avoiding him, and decided it was best to rise and join the boy in the kitchen.

When Emma finally joined them he handed her the cup of coffee he knew she would need, and watched for any sign of the previous night’s worries. There were no signs of worry or stress, only a happy woman who greeted her son with a smile asking what he wanted to do on his first day of freedom.

He didn’t know who was happier in the newly formed Swan/Mills/Jones household. From the stories Emma had told him of her childhood, he had been prepared for Henry to have inherited a little bit of a wild streak. Especially knowing what he did of the lad’s father. But Henry was made happy solely with a book in his hands, Killian’s friendship, and his mother’s love. None of which were in short supply. Emma was a different woman since finding Henry. She still worked too hard and was too hard on herself, but after righting what she had previously considered the biggest wrong she had ever committed, Killian couldn’t help but notice she seemed lighter somehow.

Emma had been transitioning to more of a desk position at the bail bonds agency. Even without her on the streets, they considered her one of their most valuable assets. But it still wasn’t ever a 9-5 job, and that left Killian with the task of greeting Henry when he arrived home from school every day. After a brief snack, and a reminder that homework needed to be completed before books or video games could be started, he could settle back in at his desk until the time came to start prepping dinner.

Killian would admit his life had changed for the better with the full time addition of Henry and Emma.

Emma would say the same.

In just a short amount of time life had become too good to be true. Every day she got home to home cooked meal and sat down with her kid and Killian to eat before they all turned on the TV or played a video game for a bit before Henry’s bedtime. Then he would turn in and she and Killian both would finish up some odds and ends around the house before turning in themselves. It had become too easy to crawl in next to him, no longer needing her phone clutched in her hand as she used to. Before Henry, she usually fell asleep mid text to Killian. Now more often than not, she fell asleep mid discussion, and woke up to find he’d already exited the bed and was up laughing with her son in the kitchen.

Sometimes something would wake her in the middle of the night. A dream. A noise. A feeling. And she’d realize she was no longer on her side of the bed, but on Killian’s, wrapped tightly in his arms, clinging to him every bit as much as he was holding on to her. As soon as she would begin to stir, she’d hear his sleepy voice mumble. “Shh, love. Go back to sleep.” And it would be one of the few times she would listen to Killian with no argument. By morning he was always up and out of the room, and she was back on her side, face down in a pillow. With the memory of what it feels like for just a few moments to have everything be perfect.

She was not prepared when the letter came from the lawyer saying all of the adoption paperwork was final, and all that would be required was a few signatures. She read through everything, and froze when she got to the lawyer’s note at the end asking about drawing up the divorce paperwork as well. It was all too fast. Not getting Henry. No, she knew he was hers. She had concocted a dozen scenarios in her mind where the courts had decided not to grant her custody, and every single one of them ended with her taking her son and running where they could never be found. Nothing would ever part her from him again. But it was too soon to give up Killian. Not the dinner he cooked. Not the after school care he provided. But just him. She had grown too accustomed to life with him at all times, and she didn’t know how to readjust to life without.

So she sent back the portion of the paperwork that the lawyer needed to turn over to the courts, but carefully stowed away the rest to take back to her office to hide. It wasn’t the right time. She needed to figure out how she would adjust to life without Killian before she told him. And Henry. Henry was going to have to learn the truth, and learn to live without Killian as well. It wasn’t fair to take away his friend from him just yet.

Every day Emma rationalized her decision just a little bit more.

And every day, she pretended to fall asleep just a little bit earlier, before rolling over and making her way into Killian’s arms.

“Killian, I’m home.”

He heard the door slam and feet racing across the hardwood floors until they stopped in the living room. He always got the impression Henry liked saying that. “I’m home.”

Killian working from his apartment meant no more after school programs for Henry. He rode the bus with the other kids, and spent his afternoons doing his homework at the kitchen table, Killian’s computer clacking away from across the room. They’d become friends in the hours after school, sharing snacks, recapping their days, and Killian was quite proud anytime Henry showed off the A on a paper or test he’d helped him prepare for.

The noise of the TV kicking on drew Killian’s attention away from the computer. “Homework before video games, Henry. You know the rule.” The boy’s response of “I know, I know,” barely covered the sound of the TV powering off.

“It’s not too late to send you back, you know.” He told the boy as he walked by the couch, ruffling the boy’s hair. It had been a joke between the two, something that could only be said one orphan to another. It was Henry’s response that surprised him.

“Yes it is. The adoption is final.”

“What’s that, lad? When did this happen?”

The boy shrugged his shoulders, and tried to act like it was nothing, but Killian knew there was more to it than that. “A few weeks ago I guess. I found the paperwork in my mom’s stuff when I was looking for a permission slip she had signed. There was a letter from the lawyer even confirming it.”

Killian sat down on the couch beside the lad, utterly confused. They’d talked about this day for months. The celebration they’d have, a big dinner out, a cake, Henry Mills becoming Henry Swan, as Henry had decided he also wanted to take Emma’s last name. “Why wouldn’t she have told us?”

Henry leaned forward and started going through his backpack, but answered, again still trying to act as though this was nothing.

“Probably because of the lawyer’s question at the bottom of the letter, about whether or not she wanted her to start working on filing the divorce paperwork for the two of you.”

His heart sunk in his chest. He’d honestly forgotten that along with the celebration of Henry joining Emma’s family officially would mean his leaving Emma’s family, their family, officially.

He couldn’t say anything to the boy. He had no intention of spoiling this wonderful event for the lad with any of his own misery.

“Seriously, Killian. You’re not going to say anything?” The boy turned to him with a raised eyebrow; the look Emma swore Henry had learned from him. “You love my mom, and you would let the divorce happen?”

He leveled his gaze at the boy only a little surprised that Henry had figured out their secret. But definitely surprised that Henry had seen what his mother couldn’t, or had been so unwilling to acknowledge.

“Henry, your mother and I got married because she didn’t want there to be any obstacles in her way when she was adopting you. It was not because we loved each other. We have to be realistic. She has custody now. You are hers. And she’s your mom, for good. There’s no reason for us to stay married.”

“YOU LOVE HER. You’re not even trying to deny it. Aren’t you going to fight for this?”

“It’s not that easy. Your mother and I have been friends forever. I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize that.”

“But she loves you.” Killian was caught off guard by that statement. He knew that Emma sometimes betrayed herself and let feelings she never wanted to show slip. She was good at hiding how she felt. Not just about him, but about everything. That Henry had already picked up on his mother’s feelings meant there had been a shift. Either the boy could read her exceptionally well or that she was no longer able to hide it.

No matter what it was, it was time they had a chat.

“Henry, your mother is an exceptional woman. I’m sure you’ve already come to realize that. But what makes her exceptional: her tenacity, her bravery, her strength, has also made her skittish and untrusting. If I were to tell her how I felt, you two would be living out of suitcases at a hotel while she looked for an apartment faster than you can blink. I can’t lose your mother from my life, and I’ve become quite attached to you as well.” He finished with a wink to add a bit of levity to the conversation, but Henry would not be distracted.

“So we’re just going to live like this? Pretending to be a family.” “Is this really so bad?”

Henry was quiet.

“What if it does end? What if my mom does find out, and makes us leave?” Killian’s warning about Emma’s actions should anything be revealed had cracked through his shell. Between Emma and Killian, he was the more likely of the two to remember that despite his maturity, Henry was still a kid at heart. He may be able to hold his own with the adults in any conversation, but there were feelings there he wasn’t equipped to process all the time.

“I won’t let it happen.” He pulled the boy into a hug. He remembered that even at ten, he found comfort in Liam’s arms when he was scared, and was there for Emma’s boy. “I fear you and your mother are saddled with me for life. I’ll never let her shut me out. And I promise I’ll never, ever leave you.”

Henry nodded. Killian’s words were enough for him. Between the two of them, they could figure this out. And in the meantime, things were good. He had a mom, a dad, a home, and a test the next day.

“Emma, love. Wake up.” She clenched her eyes closed. It wasn’t just that she felt like death. It was Killian. Every morning. The “love.” The gentle way he had of moving her hand from his chest every night that she’d crept to his side of the bed and curled up practically on top of him. The way he would get up early and get Henry out the door to school as though he was actually the kid’s father. The cup of coffee he would have brewed for her, knowing she was useless until she’d had at least two thirds of it. All of it.

Knowing she would soon have to give it all up.

And knowing how much she didn’t want to. It was eating her alive. The stress from the lawyer’s letter had formed a pit at the bottom of her stomach that nothing could ease. It took hours to fall asleep every night. Hours laying next to this man who had done nothing except to reveal himself as even more perfect than she could have ever imagined and show her a life she didn’t deserve. It was enough that she had her son. She needed to end it before something happened, and their friendship was ruined forever. Every day that she postponed telling him was another day she got to live out this fantasy life. But it was another day in which it could all go wrong.

When the flu bug hit, there was no chance her body could fight it off. Every defense she had was compromised, physically and emotionally.

“No.” she replied. It was a barely audible word, muffled by her pillow as she swatted him away.

“No, what, love? You’re not waking up?”

“No.” She rolled over and turned toward him, but couldn’t face him. Not truly. “I can’t. I’m sick.” She wouldn’t have been able to stand seeing the concern that crossed his face as he reached down to feel her forehead. It would have been her undoing.

“You’re burning up, Emma. Let me get Henry off to school and I’ll be right back in with something for you to drink and some aspirin.” She turned back over. Today had only gotten worse. Not only could she not escape him by leaving for work, but she would be completely at his mercy while he played nurse to her. He’d left the door open enough that she could hear his conversation with Henry as the two went about getting breakfast and ensuring he had everything he needed for school. It was too much. She pulled the pillow over her head hoping to muffle out their chatter, and was surprised when Killian pulled away the barrier.

“Here you are, love. Drink up.” He watched as she dutifully downed the medicine and drank more of the juice than she wanted to, figuring it was easier than fighting with him. “Anything else you need?”

She shook her head. She needed him to leave her alone.

“I’ll just be in the other room. Shout if you want anything. I’ll leave you to sleep.”

Emma curled back into the covers as he padded from the room. He’d left the door slightly open, and she could hear him in the kitchen cleaning up the breakfast dishes and then finally settling in at his desk in the living room.

As sick as she was, being left alone in Killian’s bed wasn’t going to help. His scent kept invading her defenses; his pillow calling her to use it for comfort. And as soon as she reached out to pull it to her, she would think about how soon it would end.

Her flu addled brain kept replaying the kiss from their wedding, their sham wedding she would remind herself, where for one moment, she had a glimpse of what it could be like. It was a memory she had stifled. Something she had kept so far buried she would never let herself recall. But the flu had compromised more than just her immune system. She blamed the virus for the tears that gathered in her eyes, and finally fell asleep.

Henry’s loud shout and the slam of the door was the first thing to really jolt her awake. She was grateful for what must have been 7 hours of mostly untroubled sleep. She had vague memories of Killian coming in to check on her, but mostly she woke with a renewed sense of energy.

“Killian, I’m home!”

“Shush, lad. Your mom’s still in our room asleep. Try not to wake her.”

Henry was already in the room crawling up next to her in bed.

“Henry, you shouldn’t be in here. I don’t want you getting sick.” Secretly she was glad of his company. That her kid wanted to come see her, and had no inhibitions about snuggling up with her in bed meant everything to her. Her admonition and instructions to leave were only half-hearted, as she put her arm around him and pulled him in to stroke his hair, ready to talk about his day before sending him back out to do his homework.

He didn’t even acknowledge her orders to leave as he settled in and filled her in on the day’s gossip. She got a full half hour download on his school day, and was a little jealous of Killian. Usually he got this time in the day with Henry. When she arrived home from work she got the Cliff’s Notes version of events, with Killian and Henry laughing over whatever jokes they’d already had earlier. Everything would change when they divorced. She would need to figure out what to do with Henry after school then. It was time to make the change. It would be easier, rather than letting the two continue to grow closer. She sighed.

Almost as though Henry could read her thoughts, Henry asked the question.

“What’s going to happen with me when you and Killian get divorced?”

He obviously knew something. She couldn’t pretend otherwise. Her first instinct was to comfort her son and to make sure he knew that she wasn’t going anywhere.

“It’s you and me, kid. You know that right? I didn’t do all of this to let anything happen to you.” “I know that, Mom. But what about Killian?”

Henry wasn’t worried about himself. He was worried about Killian.

“What has he told you?” “He didn’t tell me anything. I found the letter from the lawyer saying the adoption was final. And then asking if you wanted to put the divorce paperwork through. Why haven’t you told me about the adoption?”

She pulled her son tighter, more to comfort herself than him.

“Because things were going so well. I was scared to change anything. But things have to change. Killian married me so that it would be easier for me to adopt you. It’s the most important thing that I’ve ever done. But now I have you, and it’s time for us to move on.”

Henry squirmed, and she loosened her grip. He asked the same question as he hopped down from the bed, clearly ready to be done with the conversation. “But what about Killian, Mom? This isn’t fair to him. He’s going to be left without us. He loves us.” Henry didn’t give her a chance to even reply before heading for the door, and turning to her with a last reproachful look. “By the way, Killian knows, too.”

The sound of the door being firmly shut triggered Emma into a panic. Not regarding her son. Henry was obviously disappointed in her, but would be fine in the end. It was the fact that Killian knew. He knew. What was she supposed to do now? How could she face him? How could she bring up the subject of the divorce without explaining why she had hidden it? With the door closed, she was cut off from all of the activity in the main room. She was desperate to know what was going on, and what they were talking about, but she couldn’t bring herself to get out of bed. As the evening drew on, she retreated further and further into her fortress of blankets and pillows, half grateful that Killian had the good sense to leave her alone. Half wishing he would come in and at least relieve her of her misery.

Finally as bedtime drew near, he did enter.

“Emma, love. You haven’t eaten anything. Would you like me to heat anything up for you before I come in for bed? Soup. Or toast. Whatever you’d like. You really need to eat something.” She shook her head, searching his face for any sign that Henry had mentioned their earlier conversation, but all it showed was concern for her wellbeing. And it broke her. He’d given up his apartment. He’d married her. He was raising her kid. And now, all he wanted to do was take care of her while she was sick. She needed to end it before she ruined everything. No matter how much it would hurt her in the end.

Killian climbed into bed and turned out the light, as though everything were normal. It wasn’t until his breathing settled that she found the strength to say what needed to be said.

“Henry and I need to move out.”

From Henry’s face earlier he could tell something had transpired between him and Emma, but he didn’t pry. The boy had come out of their room and sat down and started his homework without comment. Killian went back to work until it was time to start preparing dinner, and the afternoon passed much the same as their afternoon would have had Emma not been sick in the other room. But there was a definite change in the atmosphere, and Killian was sure he would eventually find out the cause.

Still, he had not been prepared for her abrupt announcement.

Ever since Henry had let him in on Emma’s secret, he had been wondering why she hadn’t told him. He knew that eventually they needed to talk about it. They couldn’t just stay married forever, ignoring that it was a marriage of convenience. But he hoped that eventually she’d let herself admit that there was more than just friendship. There was definitely something to the fact that he woke up to Emma in his arms every morning, nuzzled into his chest with her legs wrapped around his.

He didn’t know what scared her, but he was sure that something had. Such an abrupt announcement could only have been triggered by Emma’s fear.

“You know you don’t have to, love. You and Henry are welcome to stay as long as you want. I think it all works rather well with the three of us here.”

“That’s what I’m worried about, Killian. I can’t have him getting any more attached to you. You’re not his dad. You’re not our family. We have to figure out how to make it on our own. You’re not always going to be here to take care of us, and we need to figure it out, the two of us.”

Just as he suspected. Something scared her, and she was going to cut and run. She had finally looked at how much she had let him in. This had nothing to do with Henry, and everything to do with her.

Eight years ago she pushed him away. And eight years ago, he let her. But now he knew how much he would be letting go of if he let her run. It wasn’t just Emma his best friend he would be losing, but Emma, the woman he loved. And she needed to know how he felt about Henry. There was too much at stake, and he needed to fight for this.

“You can’t let him grow any more attached to me, or you can’t let yourself? Because no matter how much you try to cut me out of your life, Emma, I will not let you cut me out of Henry’s. He knows that our marriage was solely practical, to make it easier for you to adopt him. He knows we’re supposed to get divorced, and I’ve made a promise to that boy that I will never abandon him. He doesn’t deserve that, Emma. He deserves all the family he can get.

“Yeah, he told me. I had to hear that he knows from him. You didn’t think to tell me that he knows and that there was no reason for us to keep faking it?”

“Just like you hadn’t seen fit to tell me the adoption was final and there was no longer any purpose to this charade? What was your goal there, Emma?”

She was lying with her back to him, but he was on his side facing her. He took a chance, and snaked his arm around her waist to pull her close. It was time to make her own up to her feelings. Eight years of space was enough. Eight years of letting her set the rules. His movements were slow and deliberate.

“Killian…” Saying his name wasn’t going to be enough. He was going to wait until she explained it. She wouldn’t turn to meet his eyes. “It’s just that Henry was…”

“Stop it, Emma. This has nothing to do with Henry and you know it. Tell me the truth.” He knew the truth. But he needed to hear it from her.

She finally rolled to her back and pulled his arm closer.

“What if this doesn’t work?”

He smiled, hoping she wouldn’t fully see it.

“Emma, I think we’ve spent the past months proving it does work.” But, Killian… “ She trailed off as Killian pulled her tighter, losing her train of thought as his hand wandered.

“But Killian, what?” he teased, knowing he’d won. At least for the moment.

“If it doesn’t work…” she trailed off again. She was unable to complete the thought.

“Emma Swan, I’ve been your best friend for 8 years. I’ve been with you through every up and down of those eight years. I’ve married you. I’ve opened my home to you. I’m helping to raise your son. Just what else do you think could happen that would push me over this edge that you have imagined?”

And that’s when she realized, there wasn’t anything. Nothing she had ever done had pushed him away. And now that she was trying to push him away, he was standing his ground. He made her happy. He made her son happy. And if all he wanted in return was her, that was the easiest thing in the world for her to say yes to. It was hard for her to believe that she could make someone happy or that she could be enough. But after seeing how easily Henry had accepted her, it was a little bit easier to believe that she could be someone else’s happy ending too.

She rolled over to face him, finally willing to fully let him in. She took a moment to appreciate the smile on his face before she leaned in to press her lips to his, and before being enveloped completely by the arms of the man she loved.

Breakfast was quiet the next morning. Emma got up and accepted the coffee Killian handed to her before returning to the bedroom and dress in something suitable enough to take Henry to the bus stop.

They walked in silence until they reached the corner. Emma knew Henry was still upset with her from the night before, and she was hoping she could say something to turn the boy’s day around before he left for school.

“I talked to Killian last night.” That got his interest, and he turned to her with a sharp eye.

“We’re not going to be contacting the lawyer just yet.” A sly smile started to spread across his face and she wanted nothing more than to tell him to stop smirking, but loved seeing her kid happy. “So we thought we would go out and do that big adoption dinner we were talking about tonight. Wherever you want. And we can get a cake. Balloons. You name it. This is special, kid. And I’m sorry I ruined it by not telling you earlier.”

One year later -

“Henry, come on. Dinner’s ready.”

A lot had changed. Henry had grown several inches. He was officially Henry Swan. And sometimes he was really, really embarrassed by how much his mom and Killian were not afraid to demonstrate just how in love they were. He’d mastered the eye roll early whenever Killian stuck up behind his mother to plant a kiss on her neck while she was doing her best to make pancakes. He’d groan outright whenever his mother would snuggle up into Killian’s lap for movie nights. Sometimes he regretted his role in fixing their messed up situation.

But when Emma suggested a big dinner and cake to celebrate a year since the adoption, he rushed to say yes. Yeah, his mom and Killian could be ridiculous but this was his home. And they were his family.

They waited until after dinner to surprise them with their announcement.

“So, lad. We’ve been putting this off, but I think it’s time your mother and I contacted the lawyer. But only if you agree to it.”

Henry was confused. There was no way they would be filing for a divorce, not with how evident it was that they were in love. And if they were just going to tell him they were having a baby, what would a lawyer have to do with it? And why would they need him to agree?

Finally Killian continued. “I know I’m not your real father. But I’d like to be, as far as the law is concerned. Emma and I have discussed it, and if you’ll let me, I’d like to put in the paperwork to adopt you as well. I want it all to be official.”

Even at eleven Henry couldn’t help but cry. His lips started to quiver and his eyes welled up as he stood and walked over to Killian. Rather than have the boy lean down over him, Killian stood as well and embraced him.

“You’re my son, Henry. Always will be. We’ll get the paperwork to make it official in other people’s eyes. But just know you and I don’t need it. Never did.”

As Emma climbed into bed, any inhibition she had of encroaching on Killian’s space was long forgotten. She curled up in his arms and ran her hand over his chest thinking about how everything in her life was perfect.

“You’ve made one little boy very happy tonight, Killian.”

He nuzzled closer to her, pressing his lips against hers. “And you and our son have made me happy forever, Emma.”

AN - hope you liked it. I hope this gets the juices flowing again. Thanks to @wingedlioness for being a constant cheerleader. This never would have happened without her. I would say beta, but all mistakes are my own and I don’t want anyone juding her for what this is. (unless you think it’s good then it’s all due to her. :-)

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