#which was an avoidable mistake but ehhhhh

[tj-crochets]

The baby quilt top is done! Well. Mostly done, I need to trim the edges, but close!

[greenandhazy]

Okay this is a great poll and I have thought very seriously about it.

The first option I immediately eliminated from consideration is #1. Presuming that Jin Guangyao has been sent back far enough that all of these are options—say, just before the Sunshot Campaign?—then letting everything play out until WWX comes back means he has still slept with Qin Su, and I think that would be at the top of his “Stop This From Happening List,” tied only with his mother dying. If he’s gone back far enough to stop Meng Shi from dying, I would say either “make himself safe and happy with another sect” or “give up on the cultivation world entirely,” with his mother safe and happy in tow.

BUT presuming he hasn’t been sent back quite that far, I would think his next priority is to establish himself while getting revenge on Jin Guangshan. Now, admittedly I am very biased in that I love Meng Yao + Nies dynamic, but I still think, logically, that if JGS is his main target, he would be willing to forgo revenge on the Nies—partly because his willingness to kill NMJ in the first place is up in the air, in canon, and partly because I think he would see both of them as extremely useful towards that goal. In the original timeline, he designed an extremely appropriate and humiliating death for JGS. In a new timeline, I can see him choosing to orchestrate a slower, more public downfall. He knows that Nie Mingjue strongly dislikes Jin Guangshan, and he now knows that Nie Huaisang is much cleverer and a much better liar than he expected, and he is starting out with years’ worth of knowledge about them. I think, at the very least, they outlive Jin Guangshan.

So that would eliminate the “let NMJ die during the war” option. Now, having achieved his father’s death/disgrace, do the Nies live? Does he seek revenge against everyone else? Ehhhhh. I don’t think he makes the mistake of killing Nie Mingjue (with or without Turmoil) and letting Huaisang live again. I do think—depending on the circumstances—it’s possible that he starts out the second timeline thinking “I’m going to deal with my father first, and then I’m taking out all my haters in a blaze of glory.”

But, personally, I’m inclined to think that goes away. Because 1) it’s going to take a lot of time to achieve his primary goal, and the initial fury might fade a little with time. Not being able to undo things is a driving contributor of grudges in the real world, but he literally can! 2) he gets to re-experience all the early relationship moments with Lan Xichen, and that’s some powerful yearning. 3) he gets to have a better relationship with Nie Mingjue this time around, and yeah a lot of that is Strategic on his part, but still, the reminders of NMJ’s good qualities may have an effect. 4) Without the blinders of “need father’s approval, need to put up with all the abuse if I want The Only Love That Matters,” I think he is more open to seeing the good in other people and the ways that people treat him positively. I certainly think he would struggle in his relationship with some people—he’s probably going to be distinctly cool to WWX, LWJ, and JC because he doesn’t like nor need them, and there are going to be moments when LXC and NHS are like “wait is A-Yao avoiding me? what did I do?” But I think his post-JGS goal is more likely to be “enjoy a cozy retirement away from the cultivation world” than “burn the cultivation world to the ground.”

Having said… all that… I voted for “try to kill his father sooner” because I do not think a timeline in which Jin Guangshan is happy and thriving is acceptable to Jin Guangyao. At all. Virtually every other person at the top of his Fuck You list when he’s sent back can be, if not forgiven, then at least ignored, because they haven’t actually done the thing he most hates them for yet. Jin Guangshan has ALWAYS abandoned Meng Shi and Meng Yao, and for that he ALWAYS needs to be dealt with. There is no other revenge Meng Yao wants badly enough that he’s willing to forgo that.

[gazmembranerp]

Idiots finally talking about their feelings

Dib felt dread as he saw the irken he had tried so hard to avoid, the one he tried so hard to not upset, the one he tried to hide from since he was sure ze didn’t want to see him. Seeing zim here just caused the bubbling panic in his chest to get worse and the anger at himself for everything recently.

Zim stared back mildly shocked his antennae falling to the side of his head as he looked at the human. The wrinkled clothes, the messy hair, the tear stains down his face. Ze saw the pile of blankets exactly like the last time he had see Dib upset. He...He shouldn’t be here, but Zim already knew the door would be blocked off. 

 (Continued under the cut)

“Er....H...hello dib...”

He was hesitant, his words sounding a tad wobbly still wishing he could just spin around and leave

“.....hi zim”

Hearing dib voice sound so small and frail caused Zim to flinch. This was zim’s fault wasn’t it, the human didn’t want him here, Gaz was wrong this was a mistake. Ze backed away thinking about the usual loud fight in the others voice his mind screaming at him for this so when Dib began to talk he didn’t even realize it at first.

“I’m sorry for saying all that stuff under the curse. It was dumb and...and I should’ve just tried to avoid it, and.. and maybe we could’ve actually started to..to hang out without fighting and then I wouldn’t have messed it up ag-”

“Dib!”

The human jumped his apology getting cut off. The irken seemed a bit angry at something.

That something was zirself but Dib just assumed it was directed towards him. Zim thought about what to say next suddenly finding the edge of zir new hoodie very interesting.

“Zim... Zim can leave if the Dib wants.”

“Er....yeah I wouldn’t expect you to want to stay...”

Zims antennae perked up at that looking up at him. Dib had turned his head looking everywhere but where Zim was. Even then it took a while for zim to process the words. When it finally went through he felt the extreme confusion rise up. Did the human not want him gone? For laughing and for... calling him zirs Dib. The memory of those last two words bounced around in his already spinning head. Ze suddenly remembered he was still in the room and Dib probably was waiting for zim to say something or leave.

“...What? I thought the human was annoyed at zim?”

Now Dib seemed confused

“No? I thought you would be.”

“Why?”

“Well....I... I said a bunch of things... and you said irkens can’t love and...and not all of them were just because of the curse and were...kinda true”

he felt the blush growing on his face with each word. The thing he didn’t notice was that the irkens face had turned rather pink as the words continued to click the pieces falling together in his head. Did that mean dib...no right? but that is what he seems to be saying.

“And just... Know what this was stupid just like yell at me for being dumb... yell at me about how ‘Dumb human emoshuns’ are and how I shouldn’t have-”

“ZIM IS YELLING BUT NOT FOR THAT YOU DIB-IDIOT!”

Dib stumbled at that before looking away again. He noticed there were tears in his eyes. Oh god how long had those been there. This is just making this worse.

“Zim isn’t annoyed at the Dibs emoshuns... I am annoyed at you for trying to create new issues for yourself”

The irken took a deep breathe. The words were there but the was to put them together into a way the other would understand. He felt the anger at himself the longer it took him to say it.

“ehhhhh.....zim...may not have minded...some of it....”

The alien felt his cheeks turning pink again as he spoke knowing that wasn’t going to help.

“And...I may....have not been accurate when... I said irkens cannot feel luv...especially that zim...couldn’t”

The more ze spoke the more embarrassment built up. He pulled his hood wishing that it could hide him better than it did.

Dib tried to figure out exactly what Zim meant. Ze just willing admitted ze was wrong about something... but why? He looked up finally noticing the other trying to hide brightly colored cheeks zirs antennae have been forced in front of his face by the hoodie. 

...oh. Wait.. Did he.. was he talking about...

“Will the Dib just say something already?!?”

“...do you mean...?”

“The zim... may feel... affection towards the dib-stink”

Dib just stood there dumbfounded. The words still not making sense to him even though they were straight forward. He didn’t know how long he stood there before Zim was shaking him a bit.

“Dib-stink? Are you broken? Zim would hope not since that would mean I was right about the mix-up theory....”

Dib blinked the magenta eyes right in his face making him turn very red. The words finally clicking together and the proximity to the alien causing him to feel a tad lightheaded. 

“You....you aren’t pranking me right? This isn’t some trick that you’re pulling only to call me an idiot afterwards right.”

“ehhhh? I am aware that I am evil but that is extremely cruel.”

He felt the tears start to build up before hugging the smaller figure. Zim flinched at the sudden contact before hearing the human crying.

“Dib? Are you upset?”

Ze could only feel the human shake his head on zir shoulder.

“Then why is the Dib crying?”

He took a few deep breaths in order to be able to at least say something that wouldn’t be a jumbled mess.

“m..just...really happy...”

Zim laughed a bit hugging the tall human back. His antennae perked up slightly tilted to the side.

“You don’t make much sense human. But the almighty Zim doesn’t mind.”

Dib snorted pushing back a bit. The smile on his face standing out against the tears running down it.

“Pfft I thought we were being serious now you jerk”

“I am. It is just entertaining to tease you. Just because Zim has decided to confess to the human doesn’t mean I’m going to stop messing with you stinky”

Zir antennae wacked Dib in the face causing him to laugh more.

“Stop that spaceboy! Not fair!”

Zim stuck his tongue out at the human only to get tackled over. They hit the bed which seemed to surprise Zim more than being tackled itself. Dib rolled over onto the actual part of his bed and sat up.

“Hah. Gotcha Zim”

The irken pretended to pout a bit

“Only because I let you.”

“suuuure you did.”

They both looked at each other before laughing. Dib reached up and wiped the tears that were left off his face while Zim just smiled a bit. Ze almost said something when the door opened.

“Gods that took you idiots forever to figure out.”

Gaz leaned in the doorway acting annoyed but a slight smirk on her face. She then tapped her foot as if she was waiting for them to do something. Dib spoke up confused

“...What?”

“I think you guys owe me something.”

Zim narrowed his eyes at the tall human girl seeming a bit annoyed by that statement. His antennae fell back in a sharp angle

“Zim SUPPOSES... the Dib-sister has earned his thanks.”

“Yeah well I was thinking more pizza”

She smiled at the pissed look that got from both of the others. Dib threw a pillow at her which she just caught.

“Gaz what the hell?”

“pfft c’mon Dib. I was just messing... mostly”

She threw the pillow back, nailing the center of her brothers forehead causing Zim to laugh a bit as well. Dib fixed his glasses looking back at Gaz. She had an almost soft smile.

“anyway, you dorks know you’ve been in here for a few hours right?”

Zim paused for a second, his pak making a clicking sound. A look of realization seemed to hit him.

“Oh! The computer download is due to be completed!”

Ze jumped up and without thinking much grabbed a confused Dib and rushed off. The human barely had time to grab his phone before he was being dragged off by Zim still looking like a trainwreck. He laughed trying his best to keep up. 

It looked like he hadn’t messed up as bad as he had thought earlier.

//Not a rp just background stuff. Tagging list @peach-diamond-steven @lkcatss @suicidal-steven @izuku-midoriya-rp @soft-kachan   Oh shit I finished. Also I’m going to reblog the other two parts just for continence 

[queenofnohr]

Aeaean Spring Breeze - Ch. 1: Breathe Like it’s Any Other Monday Morning

(Here’s the dreamwidth link for easier reading)

[in My Room]

Circe: Ugh…… For some reason…… Motivation…… Dwindling…... Fou: Fo~u...... Mash: Once again, Circe is slacking off in Master’s bed…… Circe, every time you do this, senpai turns up with “perfect” timing. Circe: It’ll be fiiiiiiiine. This time I’ve set up detection magic, after all~. Mash: I see. But isn’t that a violation of privacy? Circe: Just be cool, be chill. I’m worried about Master, so it can’t be helped.

[you come in]

> No, it can be helped

Circe: Gah!!

*the sound of her falling off the bed* *the sound of her shakily getting up*

Circe: H- Hey, Piglet! How did my detection magic get disabled? …...Medea! This is SO getting old and that girl is getting downright vicious! Always butting in on other peoples’ love lives, this is why I’ll never find a new partner! Fou: Fou, fo~u. (Translation: Like student, like teacher.) Arjuna: ......Circe. We are of different classes and different places of origin, and as such thought it prudent to avoid conflict due to our different values. However— I cannot overlook your actions. Go sit in the corner and think about what you’ve done. Circe: Eugh. Who appointed you head of the disciplinary committee? Arjuna: Disciplinary committee……? Perhaps I am. After all, even Osakabehime said that I was like a “white-uniformed disciplinary committee member or student council president as a second pick” Mash: Yeah! You really do have the good sense of a Japanese student! Fou: Fou, fofo~u......! (Translation: Your good sense is a little off, Mash……!) Arjuna: ......No, this is all beside the point. We confirmed the existence of a Micro-Singularity. Circe: Huh. Mash: ! Arjuna: The Chaldea staff are busy with the investigation and analysis of Lostbelts, so they want Mash to be in charge of monitoring it. Mash: Leave it to me. I’m happy to receive orders straight from the student council president himself! Circe: So, where is this Singularity? Arjuna: Right— It’s at Aeaea Island. Circe: ...... ...... What did you just say?

> Aeaea Island Circe: Guh…… Mrr…… Ugh……

> Isn’t that the island where you lived, Circe?

Circe: ...... ...... ...... ......Yeah, it was.

Arjuna: Then I’ll make this briefing quick. The era seems to be the Age of Gods, if not, somewhere close to it. Circe: Ehhhhh…… About that island…… I only have bad memories of it, so…...

> Was it painful?

Circe: ……I feel like I had a bad dream about that island recently.

> Is that so……?

Circe: Uhm...... Errrr......  

Jason: Ha. That’s not a reason, you just wanna skip out. And I wanna skip this mission too! Orion: I- I- I also wanna skip out. I mean, Artemis isn’t even gonna be there. And if she’s not there, I’m useless. Arjuna: Putting Jason aside, Orion…… What happened to that goddess? Orion: It was something weird like a meetup for goddesses in a relationship or something. And thanks to that, I’m free. Arjuna: Then that’s even more reason to take you along. After all, it’ll be easier to keep an eye on you if you’re with us. Orion: Why do I get this kind of treatment!? Jason: Sounds right to me. Georgios: It’ll be good for both of you. Circe, if you don’t want to go, you don’t have to. I will be departing for the front. Jason: What? That’s unusual for you, Georgios.

> I meant to ask Chiron, but—

[flashback]

Chiron: If I go, Jason might be nervous. When he tries to show me how much he’s grown, he ends up making mistakes…… that’s the impression I get. I’m terribly sorry to suggest a replacement, but how about Master Georgios? If you bring him along, he’ll surely help balance the party.

[end flashback]

Jason: Huh!? HUH!? What the hell is Chiron on about!? I don’t get nervous at all just because he’s around! I’m the man who journeyed across the sea on the Argo! Orion: I don’t really know what he’s talking about, but you probably will have a lot of screw ups. Arjuna: I agree. To be honest, I can picture it all in my mind. Jason: Since when did you guys get to be such a bunch of know-it-alls!? ……Well, it’s fine. So, what are you gonna do, Circe? It doesn’t matter if you go. It’s a Micro-Singularity, so three Servants should be more than enough. Orion: Including me? Jason: Why would you think you’re included in that number? I’m not gonna rely on the skills of a stuffed animal.

> Orion is pretty calm

Orion: Oho, so you’ve finally zeroed in on my strengths, Master. That is, being able to pull back and look at everything from a bird’s eye view. Fou: Fou...... Circe: Oh…… I— I’m sorry. It’s kinda…… Um…...

> You don’t need to force yourself.

Circe: Thanks. No, wait a second…… Let me think…… Orion: (......Why is this “Great Witch” frozen and twitching in a corner of the bed) Jason: ……We’ll be on our way now. I think we can manage without one or two Great Witches. Circe: Wha!? Jason, isn’t that super rude of you? If you don’t have a Great Witch, won’t you be in trouble? Jason: ……Alright, let’s go! Circe: Agh, wait. I said wait! Let me think on it a little more——

[we Reyshift]

> In the end, she just sorta went with the flow…… 

Jason: The result was gonna be the same either way. Let’s go, Great Witch. Circe: I have a bad feeling about this. Guh…... Georgios: Mm. Even so, it’s quite picturesque. The color of the Greek sea is beautiful. Then, I’ll take one…… 

[he snaps a photo]

Orion: I’ve been thinking this for a while, Master Georgios, but where’d you pick up that camera? Georgios: Well, it became my hobby without me realizing it. Perhaps I used the Grail to wish for it in some Holy Grail War. …...I’m joking, of course. Orion: …………You got me! (I have no clue what to say when such a grave guy cracks a joke) Mash: ……Ah, everyone, we’re getting a Servant reading immediately. Jason: A stray Servant? Mash: Yes. It seems to be an unknown Heroic Spirit whose Saint Graph has yet to be registered with Chaldea. Arjuna: We don’t know if they’re friend or foe. Let’s approach with caution for the time being. Orion: …………Not that it matters, but. Why “stray” Servant? Jason: Because calling them “wild” Servants totally changes the meaning. Wild Servants are ones like Atalante, Penthesilea, and other meathead Servants. Mash: Jason, Jason— Those two are currently in the control room, so…… Penthesilea: Hey, Jason. I’ll be sure to give you a “warm” welcome when you get back. Atalante: I think I will as well. Tell me, captain, which do you prefer? Being a target or being a crash dummy? Jason: Mash, tell me who’s in the room with you sooner!! It’s a matter of life and death for me! Arjuna: ……Perhaps it’s better for you to keep your mouth shut? Jason: Shut up, Mr. Logic! I’m the type of person who’s got something to say for everything! Georgios: So you admit you talk too much. Circe: *sighhhhhhh*...... This is a total bummer…...

> You okay?

Circe: Yeah, it’s just mental strain, I’m fine physically. Mash: Are your memories of Aeaea Island that bad? Circe: ……Overall, the memories I have of it are good ones. I have just one bad memory. But you know what they say, right? One rotten apple is all it takes to spoil the barrel…… Jason: Odysseus? Circe: Has anyone else ever told you how insensitive you are!? Jason: They have. Circe: What’s with that attitude!? Orion: I mean, sooner or later it was gonna come up, right? Your legend is super famous. Even you know it, right, Master? Circe: !!

> Of course I know it.

Circe: *grumbles* Well, at least there’s no need to explain. Right, moving on! Jason: Well, the gist of it is she was totally rejected by the guy she fell in love with. Circe: Can you be a little more tactful—!? Is this just what human royalty is like!? 

> Not very well……

Circe: Yeah, exactly. It’s nothing you need to know about, Piglet! Orion: Oh, then I’ll explain it. Circe: It’s. Fine. Just. Drop. It. Orion: It was after the end of the Trojan War. Odysseus got on a boat to return home…... Circe: You’re rea~lly doing this, huh. Orion: But he was set adrift. A bunch of other stuff happened, but long story short, he ends up washing up on Aeaea Island. Jason: But the witch who lived there didn’t trust humans, so they got turned into animals. Stuff like pigs and lions and wolves. Orion: Even though they were welcomed in, Odysseus’s men were also transformed into pigs. But she sure apologized quickly when Odysseus got angry and pulled a sword out.  Circe: Agh- Geh- Guh…… (She’s writhing) Jason: And then, in exchange for turning his men back to normal, she got Odysseus to stay. ……Now that I think about it, you’re pretty good at doing business…… Circe: You think that’s what’s admirable!? Orion: But, ya’know, from the start Odysseus already had a wife, Penelope. After recuperating his strength on Aeaea Island, he decided to return home. Circe: (She’s starting to get into the depressed loner at PE pose) Jason: And that’s the story of how Circe got rejected! Circe: ーThank you all for your “courteous” explanation. I’m so gonna turn you guys into pigs!!

Orion: ......Huh? Hey, Master, do you think that guy way over there is the Servant? They’re collapsed on the beach. Jason: Oh, maybe they smell bad and that’s why all those Phantasmal Beasts are gathering around.

> W- We have to help them!

Georgios: Indeed. Let’s move out! Circe: Fine, but I’ve still got a number of complaints, so— Jason: Forget about that and help!!

[battle]

Georgios: That should be it. Now then, everyone, if you would be so kind. Everyone: ? Georgios: Smile.

[he snaps a photo]

Jason: I smiled on instinct, but is there a reason why you had to take a picture? Georgios: For the memories, of course. Circe: Well, we should probably get to waking up this Servant, right? Good grief, we really are a bunch of insensitive heroes…… Hey, are you okay? …… …… Hm? Hmmmmm?

> What is it?

Circe: I- It’s nothing. Super, totally not even a thing, ya’know? Jason: I thought the back of their head looked strange, but it’s a helmet, huh? Oi, they might be drowning in there. Why don’t you take off his helmet? Circe: ...... ...... Orion: Georgios, teacherー please helpー. Georgios: Right. And-a-one, and-a-twoー ???: Ug…… Ugh…… W- Where am I……? Jason: Oh, he’s alive. ???: Who are...... you people......?

[Circe is constantly at the side of the frame while we’re talking]

> We’re from Chaldea

???: Chaldea......? Jason: If you don’t know Chaldea, does Jason or Orion ring a bell? ???: ......Those are the names of legendary heroes…… Are you saying you are too? Georgios: I am Georgios. The thing that looks like a bear at first glance is Orion. And the man who’s crossing his arms, slowly backing away, and thinking things like “When I get my chance I’ll turn tail and run”...... That one is Jason. Jason: Why do I get roasted for my introduction!? Georgios: Moving on— Oh? What happened to Circe?

> Huh?

???: ......Circe? Mash: Circe seems to have slipped away. Orion: Just what does she think she’s doing…… Hey, you guys stay here. Master and I will find her. Jason: So she ended up skipping out after all. ???: Circe…… Georgios: She’s the famed Great Witch of Aeaea Island. You’ll meet her in a bit.

Node 2

[at a waterfall]

ーAll at once, I ran away. I don’t understand what’s happening right now. All I knew was that I had to get away from that suffocating atmosphere.

Circe: *pant*…… *pant* *pant*…… So that bad feeling I had was right…… 

……I thought this day would come. Because he is a hero. A hero among heroes. Of course he would be summoned, the only question is when.

Circe: It probably wouldn’t be a problem if it wasn’t a chance meeting.

Why did it have to be this, of all things? I just had to find him summoned to Aeaea Island. Where it all began.

Circe: What’s gotten into me, running away like that!? I’m not usually this bad. Right now I am first and foremost— Guda’s Servant. …… ……

……If I could just breathe and sort my feelings outー But even as I think this……

[there’s a noise]

Circe: Can everything just be quiet!

> Circe!

Circe: Guh, Master!!

[she starts shifting around]

Circe: *fiddles with her hair* *pulls her own cheeks* *checks her face in a hand mirror* *turns away, then looks back with a smile* Hey hi, what’s up, Piglet! Orion: Stop looking in the mirror and help us fightー!! Circe: You’re just a bear that doesn’t understand a maiden’s heart!!

> Preparing for combat!

[battle]

> Now then, what’s wrong?

Circe: ...... ......Ugh. It’s about that guy we found on the beach.

> Do you know him?

Circe: I do know him. I know him very well. That man’s name is— ......Odysseus. He’s one of the few heroes that survived the Trojan War. The man who devised the Trojan Horse and led the Achaean forces to victory. ……A man who was set adrift for a long, long time on his way back to his beloved wife. ……A man who spent a bit of time with me here, on Aeaea Island.

---

T/L: Only one! The section where Circe is “frozen and twitching at the corner of the bed” is a phrase that I do believe got translated (re: her connection to Penelope in Material Book VI) as “curled up in a fetal position”. I think, perhaps, the description in the Material Book could be translated as that, but that turn of phrase seemed much too severe for Circe in this moment. The feeling here is more like “are you sure you want to think on it” rather than “oh something is seriously wrong here”

Prologue ← → Ch. 2

[welllpthisishappening]

Going Tape to Tape

They must have set some kind of record. 

The doctor thought they were insane – asking for more printouts and more copies and no one in the history of modern medicine had ever asked for so many sonograms. Emma was convinced. But they had a dinner to go to and a gold medal to celebrate and there was an entire team waiting for official announcements and vaguely emotional moments. 

Anna wouldn’t put her phone down. Will kept taking pictures. Mary Margaret might have been crying. And Killian was totally going to come up with a sitting schedule for Emma. 

She was only kind of overwhelmed. 

Or: Emma and Killian tell the Vankalds about Matthew Jones. 

Rating: Ehhhhh high T? Making out. They’re going to have a kid so... Word Count: Listen, I got feelings and I need adjectives to describe them. 9.3K AN: This has been a very long time coming and I’m sorry to all of those who requested this that it took several decades, but here it is! Mini post-game vacation! David trying to break down a door! Doctor’s appointments! Overly emotional expectant father Killian Jones! Robin and Emma bonding! The Vankalds! This is a whole lotta fluff, basically. If you guys missed the memo, there are Blue Line one shots coming every Sunday at 12 EST because I’ve written a lot of words. I am, however, still down for more words and more requests or questions or prompts so if you want to see something, don’t be shy. Also on Ao3 if that’s how you roll. 

“What are you doing?” Emma froze, breath catching in her throat and she nearly lost her footing – which probably would have sent Killian into several different types of metaphorical and literal tailspins – spinning on the spot to find him staring speculatively at her.

He was leaning against the frame of the open door, feet crossed at the ankles and what appeared to be a fairly new team-branded t-shirt on. And he was smiling.

Emma squeezed one eye shut. “Nothing,” she muttered, but she was the worst liar in the history of several different worlds and he absolutely knew already.

She was standing in front of the goddamn mirror.

“Yuh huh,” Killian nodded, taking a step into the room and resting his hands on the sides of her hips. “That was bad, Swan.” “Yeah, well, you surprised me.” “Are you telling me that if I hadn’t just caught you staring at your own reflection in the mirror, you would have been able to come up with a better story for what you were doing?” “That was a very convoluted question.” “Sounds like a yes.” She groaned, leaning back against his chest out of instinct and habit and want, which, might have been some kind of symptom, but they’d been under self-imposed house arrest for the last three days and hadn’t even looked at their phones, let alone looked up pregnancy clichés. Or symptoms. Whatever.

Emma had no idea where her phone was.

“What are you looking for exactly, love?” Killian asked, and he couldn’t quite keep the laughter out of his voice when he ducked his head to press a kiss against the curve of her shoulder.

She scowled at open air, but he apparently had eyes in the wall or something equally impossible, because he laughed again and caught her fingers before she could actually swat at his thigh.

“That is stupid unfair,” she accused.

“Swan, we’ve been over this. Bad liar, standing in front of the mirror with your shirt rucked up. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two--” “No, no, the reaction time,” Emma interrupted, appreciating his quiet hum of confusion more than she expected to. “You’ve got crazy reflexes.” “Yeah, well, rumor has it I’m some kind of professional athlete.” Emma laughed – or it might have been a giggle, which she absolutely planned to blame on hormones for, just, like, the rest of her life. “That’s the rumor, huh?” she asked, twisting in his hold to sling an arm over his shoulders and Killian’s eyes fluttered shut when her fingers found the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Look who’s cheating now.” “None of this conversation makes much sense, you know that, right?” “I beg to disagree, Swan. I think we’re making plenty of sense, you’re just avoiding my questions and my incredibly on-point points because you’re distracted and slightly attracted to my previously mentioned professional athlete reflexes.” “God,” Emma groaned, but he knew he was right and she knew he knew and they were going in circles. He kissed the top of her hair when her head landed on his chest. “Awfully presumptuous of you.”

Killian made a dismissive noise in the back of his throat, pressing another kiss to her head as his hand found its way to her stomach and they hadn’t been out of the apartment in three days, but that kept happening.

Emma wasn’t keeping track.

Of course not.

Obviously.

She should have looked for her phone while he was in the shower.

“I’ve got some good sources on that,” Killian mumbled, and Emma didn’t have to look up to know that he was smirking. He was probably doing something stupid with his eyebrows.

She leaned back, lifting her own brows and pointedly ignoring whatever it was his hand was doing – tracing out patterns and he kept doing this thing with his thumb, making semicircles on her skin like he was skating from blue line to blue line. Or like he was just trying to make sure this was all really happening.

“More than one source?” Emma asked archly. “Or more than one kid?” If asked, she would promise that she absolutely, positively did not do it for the reaction. Emma was an adult. An impending mother. A goddamn professional who really should have found her phone because the New York Rangers were absolutely going to want to honor America when they played at the Garden again.

If asked, Emma would have absolutely lied.

And Killian would have known.

Because she really, really liked whatever his whole body did whenever she used that word, thumb stilling and shoulders sagging just a bit, like he still couldn’t quite wrap his mind around it, or come to terms with how incandescently happy he was.

He’d used that word several times in the last three days.

She’d definitely done it for the reaction. “Cheater, cheater, cheater,” Killian said, pressing kisses to her jaw and the bridge of her nose and the edge of her eye and it was a miracle Emma didn’t dissolve into a fit of giggles, hormone-induced or otherwise. The arm around her waist helped.

“Yeah, totally,” she admitted. “But that’s like a thing, right? Genetics or whatever?” “You’re just saying words, Swan.” “Elsa and Liam have twins.” “Yes.” “And?” “And what?” Killian repeated. He tilted his head when he realized, hair falling dangerously close to his eyes and it really shouldn’t have been that attractive, but they were talking about their kid and they had a doctor’s appointment in a few hours and a party to celebrate America at the brownstone later because the Rangers didn’t play until the next day and neither one of them was looking forward to a three-game swing on the road so soon after getting home.

And he knew what she’d been doing in front of the mirror.

“I have no idea how genetics work,” Killian said. “But I’m fairly certain that’s why they have doctors and appointments and ultrasounds. Right?” Emma nodded, but her pulse was racing and there were butterflies in her stomach and she was wearing team-branded too. God, they couldn’t both wear team-branded to the doctors.

She didn’t really want to change.

“I was just…” she started, and eventually she’d have to thank him for not smiling too wide because she wasn’t sure she could quite deal with that. But he did look somewhere close to overjoyed and incandescent was a really good word for the last three days. “Doesn’t look any different,” Emma finished. “Right?” They both needed to stop adding questions to their statements.

Killian hummed, eyes flitting down towards his hand, like he was checking to make sure. “Did you think it would?” “Did you?”

“Swan, you can’t answer my question with one of your own. These are basic conversational rules, love. And, no, I didn't.” “Why do you know that?” He eyed her meaningfully, but Emma just pressed her lips together and tugged lightly on the front of his shirt. That was a mistake – her ring was on her left hand and they had far too much news to share with the Vankalds.

The butterflies were in her throat.

“You weren’t supposed to be looking at your phone,” Emma accused. “There were rules to this vacation, Captain.” “This was a vacation?” “Killian!”

He laughed, eyes bright and Emma chased after him when he brushed his lips over hers, a fact that, if it were any sort of normal day, would have led to several vaguely sarcastic and equally charming remarks. But they didn’t really have time and their three days were up and she was only a little concerned about those wires Killian had yanked out of the wall when they got back from the Games.

Someone on this stupid hockey team must known an electrician.

“I didn’t break any of the rules,” Killian said softly, taking his time on every letter and the butterflies in Emma’s throat got a little distracted by the sound of her impossibly loud heartbeat. “But there was wifi on the plane and you fell asleep pretty quickly and--” “--I’m pregnant, I’m supposed to be tired all the time. That’s normal in the first trimester.” He beamed at her.

And, really, Emma should have expected that because she kept using very specific words and Killian was a giant, sentimental sap who really enjoyed hearing those very specific words.

But the expression still left her a little breathless and Emma was only slightly convinced she wasn’t just made of butterflies at this point.

“I know it is, love,” he whispered. “But I’m answering your question.” He waited a moment, as if he expected her to interrupt again, and his smile, somehow, got even wider when she didn’t. “And,” Killian continued. “I had wifi on the plane and a little bit of time, so I looked some things up. For...curiosity's sake.”

“Curiosity?” “Mine. Specifically. And I think the twin thing is Vankald genetics, so really that happened because of El.” “Oh, let me be there when you tell her that, please,” Emma laughed, but Killian was already shaking his head before she’d even closed her mouth.

“Do not tell her I said that.”

“She’d find a stick and check you in the ankles.” “I’ve got no doubt, that’s why I don’t want you to tell her I said that.”

She grinned, the butterflies returning or migrating or whatever it was metaphorical butterflies did, falling back into the pit of her stomach and Emma, at least, felt like she could breathe a little easier. “You’re obsessed with websites,” she muttered, and she’d never let go of his shirt.

“Curious,” Killian corrected. “I am curious. Mostly about a permanent set of kidneys.” “I’m sorry, what?” “That’s what the thing said. If my math is right, around seven weeks, there are permanent kidneys and arm and leg joints. And he’s growing about a hundred brain cells a minute.” Emma gaped, and that certainty that her lungs were a functioning, normal part of her body seemed to fly out the still-open doorway in front of her. Her knuckles went white around Killian’s shirt. “Oh,” she breathed, a note of something that sounded like awe and felt a bit more like disbelief in the letters. “Wow.” “He’s probably a genius by now. So job well done by us.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure that’s really how it works,” Emma mumbled. “Although it does sound better than hummingbird heartbeat. Leg joints, huh?” Killian nodded slowly, palm still flat on her stomach and she’d never actually fixed her goddamn shirt. She was totally looking for something. “You need those to skate.” “Generally knees do come into play while skating.” “And elbows.”

“Difficult to stick-handle if you can’t move your arms.” “You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?” Killian’s eyes widened at the not-quite insult, a flash of blue and feeling and Emma was a complete and utter mess of emotions and hormones and butterflies, because she was pushing up on toes before she really thought about it, finally letting go of his shirt to sling both arms around his neck and kiss him – hard.

He stuttered slightly, probably because she was attack-kissing them in the middle of their bedroom and his hair was still damp from the shower and neither of them had had any contact with the outside word in seventy-two hours, but Emma kind of felt like everything was happening at once, and she needed an outlet.

Her fiancé’s distinct ability to make out with her felt like a fairly good one.

Or it would have been if someone didn’t appear to be breaking into their apartment.

“What the fuck?” Killian hissed, not bothering to pull away from Emma’s mouth, and her answering laugh was a little manic. She really needed to change her shirt.

“Let them take whatever they want,” Emma muttered. “We’ll just trace the IP.” “What?” “I mean obviously someone’s discovered that we stole the Conn-Smythe and now they’re here to steal it and auction it off on the internet. I bet Ruby knows how to trace an IP. Or David. That makes more sense.” “I’d imagine we’d go to the police when reporting this crime, Swan.” “You think you’re hysterical.” “From time to time,” Killian admitted, but the words got caught in the air when he was trying to kiss her at the same time. “And we really didn’t steal the Conn-Smythe. Borrowed.” “That makes it sound like we’re going to give it back.” “Eventually, eventually. Maybe after the kissing. And the doctor. And teaching our kid how to stick handle properly.” “You don’t know how to stick handle properly,” Emma muttered, smiling when Killian made some kind of disbelieving noise in the back of his throat. And, really, they probably would have spent another ten minutes standing stock-still in the middle of their bedroom making out like several varieties of cliché teenagers, but whoever was trying to break into their apartment appeared to be leading with their shoulder against their front door.

It was very loud.

“If this is anyone except some door to door salesman, I’m going to find a stick and check them in the ankles,” Killian muttered.

“Do traveling salesmen exist anymore? Isn’t that just Harold Hill?” “What?” “You know. Seventy-six trombones and you’ve got trouble. With a capital T.” “You are speaking in tongues.” “I’m not,” Emma promised, eyes flitting towards the door when it sounded like someone kicked at it. And she could just make out the muffled voice on the other side of the wood, demands to make sure you’re still alive because everyone is really worried and Emma rolled her eyes towards the ceiling. “You might want to actually find that stick,” she suggested, twisting around Killian before he could stop her or say something stupid overprotective because the police officer currently trying to break into their apartment really did have their best interests at heart.

David nearly fell over the threshold when Emma opened the door.

“Did Mary Margaret send you?” she asked. He shook his head. “Ruby?” Another shake. “Who?”

“Merida,” David said, running a hand over his face and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Although Ruby was probably a close second because Merida went to her first. And I’m going to go ahead and award myself the bronze because you should really at least have some way for us to reach you.”

“We ripped out the wires.” “I’m sorry, what?” “Do you know how to fix that?” Emma asked, but David looked torn between disbelief and hysterics and she was kind of glad no one was coming to steal their Conn-Smythe.

“I am not an electrician,” he said. “And as mentioned, here to make sure you’re not both nursing several broken bones or life-threatening injuries and because your assistant is having several different types of meltdowns.”

“What?” “Yup. And it took Ruby some time to respond, I guess, because everyone’s sleep schedules are still messed up and she is actually good at keeping secrets, so your assistant doesn’t know that you need to be sleeping more.” Emma groaned. “Oh my God.” “That’s just a fact.” “Were you looking up facts, Detective?” “No,” David said quickly, gaze darting over Emma’s left shoulder when Killian moved into the living room. Emma arched an eyebrow. “I didn’t! But, uh,” he added softly, digging the toe of his exceptionally shiny dress shoe into the ground. “Mary Margaret might have. Just out of…” “Curiosity?” Killian suggested, and David shrugged in response. He, quite clearly, did not want to be checked in the hallway.

“Something like that.” “And she thinks she’s my mom,” Emma added, but she couldn't quite get her voice to sound as frustrated as she wanted it to. David bit back a smile. “What exactly did Mer want, David?” “To brainstorm or something, I guess. Something about America.” Emma hummed, rocking back on her heels, and it only took a moment for Killian’s hand to land on the small of her back – like he was trying to make sure she didn’t topple backwards. She couldn't bring herself to be frustrated by that either.

“We won a gold medal,” Emma reasoned. “Seems fairly safe to assume that the Rangers would want to hype that. We should probably do something for Phillip too, though, right?” “He didn’t win, Swan,” Killian pointed out.

“Yeah, but he was there and he’s on the team and…” “And you’re going to do way more work than you have to. Merida can do the extra stuff if she wants to. She can send stuff to the season-tickets. You don’t need to do all of that.” “He’s got a point, Em,” David muttered, widening his eyes when Emma sighed. “Something about sitting down and pressure on your spine.” “Oh my God,” she groaned. “There is no pressure on my spine. My spine is perfectly fine. And I am more than capable of sending e-mails to the season-tickets. That actually requires me to sit down, you know.”

David didn’t look convinced. “You’d figure out a way to do that standing up if you had to.” “I am fine.”

“Not nursing any broken bones or life-threatening injuries?” Emma scowled, and David finally let himself smile, leaning forward to tug lightly on the sleeve of her shirt. “I worry about you, kid. And your sleeping habits.” Her expression had never really reached glare-type levels, but Emma felt any hint of frustration disappear at the look on David’s face and the honestly in his voice and, at some point, Killian’s hand had moved from her back to her stomach. “I know you do,” Emma mumbled. “But I’m fine. Really. I can get a doctor’s note to prove it later, if you want.” David nearly fell over.

“What?” he sputtered. “When? Today?” “You’ve got very bad timing, Detective,” Emma grinned. “We’re probably going to be late because of you.” “You’re going to the doctor?” “What part of that was confusing?” “You just told me you ripped wires out of the wall!” “We did that after we made the appointment,” Killian reasoned, and David’s face looked questionably pale. Emma wasn’t entirely sure he was still breathing. “Did you come here on your lunch break to make sure we weren’t dead?” “What gave me away?” “The badge on your hip was a pretty good tell.”

David hummed, but it still sounded distracted and his eyes kept darting towards Emma. “I don’t need a doctor’s note.” “That’s good because I totally wasn’t going to get you one.”

“Yeah, I figured,” he muttered, taking another step into the apartment and it wasn’t easy for all three of them to occupy the same few inches of space, but they figured it out and Emma smiled when David pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Mary Margaret’s going to lose her mind at dinner tonight, you realize that?” Emma nodded. “I’m fully prepared for that.”

And, honestly, it wasn’t really a lie. They’d already decided she was awful at lying. There was no point in lying when Emma was, almost painfully, aware of just how much Mary Margaret was going to lose her mind at dinner.

She knew they all were – the whole goddamn team and probably Mr. and Mrs. Vankald and Emma was ready for it.

She was.

She was happy and thrilled and the living embodiment of the word incandescent, even with wires hanging out of her wall.

But it all changed as soon as she sat on exam table paper and the stupid thing ripped under her and Emma hoped that wasn’t some kind of twisted sign from the universe, because they kept winning things and getting things and she wasn’t sure she took a single breath from the time the doctor walked into the room until the moment she asked if they wanted an ultrasound.

“It’s not necessary,” she explained, but Emma’s lungs felt like they were on fire and she could see Killian’s jaw clench. “You’re in perfect health, but it’s up to you. We can wait until your next appointment or we can...get on with it.” “Get on with it,” Emma echoed. The doctor shrugged.

“It’s up to you.” “Swan?” Killian asked softly, and she could barely hear him, but that might have been because she was so focused on not squeezing his hand in half. There were still bruises there. “It’s up to you, love.” She nodded.

The jelly, goo, whatever the doctor slathered on her stomach was freezing cold and the whole thing was a little surreal – like Emma was watching it in some out of body experience, but still feeling all of it and Killian kept tapping his thumb against her wrist.

She really needed to breathe.

“Ah,” the doctor said triumphantly. Killian hissed when Emma’s grip tightened. “There we are.”

“We,” he repeated, and if Emma weren’t having some kind of actual meltdown she would have teased him for the crack in his voice.

“Genetics, Cap,” she muttered. “Genetics.”

The doctor looked confused, eyeing them with something that felt like concern for their overall wellbeing, but they were both still a little jet-lagged and Emma was starving all the time – except when the Uber had driven by some food cart on Columbus Ave and she was fairly convinced she was going to die from the smell.

But that was neither her nor there.

“I was speaking in the more metaphorical we,” the doctor said, as if that would do anything to get rid of the look on Killian’s face. Emma tried not to laugh. “But, uh,” she nodded towards the screen next to her and the tiny blob of something that was flickering there. “If you look right here...you were right, Ms. Swan, about seven weeks.”

“Oh,” Emma breathed.

She’d wish she said something slightly more emotional or concrete later, when the realization had sunk into her toes and probably her soul or something equally absurd, but in the moment she was far too busy crying and staring at the screen and listening to the way Killian’s breath caught to be worried about appropriate reactions to seeing their kid for the first time.

Their kid.

“Swan,” Killian whispered, and his voice shook on her name, eyes a bit glossier than normal when she finally tore her eyes away from the screen.

Emma shook her head, which, really was the dumbest thing she could have done, but her heart appeared determined to beat its way out of her chest and there was still freezing cold goop on her stomach and a doctor staring at them like they’d collectively lost their minds.

So, really, it made sense when Killian bent down and kissed her.

“I love you,” he whispered, thumb brushing away tears as quickly as they came. “More than anything.”

“I love you, too.”

He’d never let go of her hand. Or the other way around.

Whatever.

Semantics weren’t important.

There was more to it all – another talk with the doctor and suggestions to use ginger to help fight off the morning sickness that seemed to last all day, and more tests than Emma was aware existed in modern medicine – but they walked out of the office with more than one copy of the ultrasound in their hands and a date firmly planted in the back of their minds.

Emma didn’t change out of the team-branded shirt before dinner.

And Killian couldn’t quite keep the smile off his face when he noticed, standing outside the Garden after not-really-morning skate and Emma’s meeting with a clearly flustered Merida, and he wouldn’t let her hold her own bag.

“You’re going to give yourself a heart attack,” Emma mumbled, climbing into the backseat of the cab he hailed. “This can’t be good for several different internal organs.” He grinned, giving the driver an address and they were absolutely going to hit traffic. “You really do not need to worry about my internal organs, Swan. I skated perfectly fine today. Better than, in fact.” “That’s not what I meant at all and you know it.”

“I do,” Killian nodded, and he held his arm up expectantly when Emma stayed firmly on her side of the backseat. “Ah, don’t make me ask, Swan.”

“You’re clingy.”

He hummed, cheek brushing over the top of her head when he nodded, but his arm felt pretty goddamn fantastic around her shoulders and the doctor’s eyes had widened when they’d asked for so many printouts of one ultrasound.

They didn’t say anything for a moment, Emma’s eyes fluttering because he was warm and comfortable and they weren’t really moving in Midtown traffic at rush hour, but her head snapped up when she heard Killian’s voice. “What?” He blushed. “I just...I love you.” “Yeah, you’ve mentioned that a few times since we got home.” “No, no, I just…”

It wasn’t very often that he stumbled over the words, and Emma’s whole body did something absurd at that – butterflies and questionably quick heartbeat and her hand was flat on his cheek as soon as the thought entered his mind. “I’ll let Mer e-mail the season-tickets,” she promised. “She can recount them all with a detailed rehash of the New York Rangers first line exploits in South Korea and then we can auction off signed merch and make a shit ton of money for charity. That work for you?” Killian laughed, or possibly just exhaled, pressing his lips on the inside of Emma’s wrist and she didn’t have her laces anymore, but she was fairly positive he knew what he was doing. “Yeah,” he agreed. “That works for me. Although maybe not all the exploits. Don’t want to get fined.”

“Obviously.”

They were late, Killian waving off the driver when he started to apologize and question the state of the New York Rangers penalty kill in the same breath.

“We’ll see what we can do,” Killian promised, grabbing Emma’s bag and ignoring her laughter as he closed the cab door behind her. “Not a word, Swan,” he warned. “Arthur's got to move Sean off the kill. It’s embarrassing.” “Aye, aye, Cap,” she saluted back, and the reflexes were on full display again, fingers around her wrist and bag dropped unceremoniously on the sidewalk when he tugged her flush against his chest. Her laughter got louder.

“And you were accusing me of thinking too highly of my own jokes before.”

“That’s because I was right,” Emma said, but her voice shook and his fingers had already found their way under the bottom of her jacket and she couldn’t think when he kissed just behind her ear. “God, you’ve got to stop that or we’re never going to go inside.”

“That’s not exactly a bad thing.” “It’s a party.” “I miss vacation.” “You didn’t believe me when I called it that.” “Ah, well, sometimes I enjoy teasing you,” Killian admitted, leaning back to look at her, and Emma should have been better prepared for the breadth of emotions there. She wasn’t.

The butterflies were getting stronger.

They were probably forming some kind of coup.

“Yeah, sometimes,” she mumbled, and there were several increasingly sentimental and decidedly clingy sentences on the tip of her tongue. Because she was kind of dreading this three-game swing and her desk chair had apparently evolved into some kind of torture device while they’d been at the Games because she couldn’t find a single comfortable way to sit that afternoon and the doctor told her to drink less hot chocolate.

“Swan?” Killian asked softly. Open book and a distinct inability to lie to her fiancé were both vastly overrated.

Emma shook her head, but she didn’t get the chance to actually say anything, another voice and another shout and Killian nearly growled when they both realized who it was.

“KJ,” Anna snapped from the doorway. “Are you kidding me? You want to stop attacking your girlfriend for half a second? Come inside and let Emma sit down.”

“Fiancée,” he corrected, and Anna’s nearly fell over. “If you want to get technical, Banana.”

“I’d really love to get technical, actually.” “What you doing here?”

“That’s rude, KJ.” “Weren’t you in Colorado this afternoon?” “Yes, that’s how air travel works.” He glared at her, but Anna didn’t back down – regaining her traction after the technicalities were thrown around in SoHo – and her answering smile probably could have rivaled several suns in a variety of universes.

Emma swore her hair got redder.

“I wanted to be here,” she muttered, yanking on the zipper of Killian’s jacket when they finally got to the top of the stairs. “El and Liam obviously couldn’t, so I offered my miles and my phone’s ability to FaceTime and here I am ready for as much familial joy as we can muster.”

“An appropriate amount of familial joy,” Killian said, and Emma got the distinct impression he was doing it to quiet her nerves and the butterflies and they really must have set an ultrasound printout record. “You didn’t say anything to Mr. and Mrs. V, right, Banana?” Anna punched him. “KJ, are you serious?” “That’s a fair question!” “God, you are the worst. No, of course I didn’t say anything to Mom and Dad! Who do you think I am? And El would kill me. Telepathically. With her mind.” “How would she know?” “KJ!”

“Yeah, that’s probably true,” he admitted, but his arm tightened around Emma’s shoulders and she could already smell something baking and hear laughter around the corner. “Are Locksley and Scarlet here yet?” “Locksley is. I have no idea where Scarlet is.” “Here, here,” a voice called from the end of the block and Will was out of breath by the time he skidded to a stop in front of the slightly icy bottom step. “Shit, Cap, tell Mr. and Mrs. V to salt their sidewalk.” “I think the city is responsible for that,” Belle said, tucked against Will’s side. “Oh, hey, Anna, I thought you were in Colorado!” Anna rolled her eyes. “That was the rumor, apparently. Whatever, I’m mostly here for the baked goods. “There are baked goods?” Will asked.

“Did you lose your sense of smell in South Korea?” “Wow, Anna, you’re hysterical. Side-splitting humor. I’m laughing. Can you see how much I’m laughing?”

“Shut up, Scarlet,” Killian muttered, and Anna’s eyes were going to get stuck mid-roll. “Can we come inside now, Banana or you want to keep dishing out insults?” “I’m fairly positive I can do both of those things at the same time, KJ. And it’s way more fun when Scarlet is involved.”

Will did something with his face – and his hand, drawing a quiet reprimand out of Belle and another string of insults out of Anna and if Emma weren’t slightly nervous and a little nauseous she probably would have laughed.

“C’mon, Vankald,” Will muttered, twisting around Killian and into the foyer. “If Emma doesn’t sit down at regular intervals, Cap actually starts to steam and that’ll probably just freak out your parents. And he’s on edge because of the doctor.” “What?” Anna screeched, and Emma wasn’t sure if she mumbled oh my god or Killian did. The semantics of that didn’t matter much either.

“God, Banana, take seventy-six deep breaths. Scarlet, how did you know that? And how did Locksley get down here before us?” Will shrugged. “Gina probably glared at their Lyft driver. And uh...Mary Margaret told Ruby who told A who told me? She thought you’d be late to skate or blow off PT.” “Did you blow off PT?” Emma asked sharply, and it was starting to get very cold on that top step.

“No,” Killian promised. “She thought I would because she’s not here, but she’s probably as good at telepathically killing people as El is, so I figured there was no point in risking it.” “Not with impending fatherhood ahead of you,” Anna added softly, sticking her tongue out when Killian sighed dramatically.

“Is it impending if it’s happening now?” Emma asked. Anna made a noise that was not human. Even Will gasped. “Aw, c’mon, you guys knew that. Everyone knows.” “Except Mom and Dad,” Anna said.

Emma’s stomach did not stay where it was supposed to. The butterflies were plotting world domination at this point.

Killian glanced at her – and then back towards Will and he glared at Anna – but he didn’t actually say anything and Emma wasn’t entirely sure what she was so inconsistently nervous about. She wished her body would make up its goddamn mind.

That probably had something to do with hormones too.

She should have asked the doctor more questions.

And she was right – Mrs. Vankald had baked and there was enough food to feed several NHL teams let alone the first line crammed into the brownstone’s dining room. There was talking and laughing and more food, and Mr. Vankald brought up hat trick no less than twenty-seven times over the course of dinner.

It was good. No, that wasn’t enough. It was better than good. It was nice and as familial as promised and Anna kept taking pictures, sending them to Elsa seemingly every two seconds.

It was all those adjectives and then some, particularly when Mrs. Vankald asked to see Emma’s ring, a small smile on her face.

Mary Margaret might have squealed.

“Oh, wait, wait, wait,” Anna said quickly, and Emma couldn’t believe she’d ever put her phone away. “This should be FaceTime’d right? Right, KJ?”

She eyed Killian meaningfully, Emma’s lungs doing that less-than-pleasant burning thing when she refused to keep breathing like a normal human being, and he didn’t answer quickly enough.

Mrs. Vankald tilted her head in confusion. “Killian?” she asked. “Is everything ok?” “Everything’s fine,” Emma answered, holding her left hand out and she had no idea who was crying. It might have been everyone. Mary Margaret might have been sobbing.

“Oh, it’s gorgeous,” Mrs. Vankald said, her fingers soft when they held onto Emma’s. “That’s...I’m so happy for both of you.”

And the butterflies evolved again – twisting and flying and fluttering in the back of Emma’s throat, a mix of emotions and nerves and everything and maybe that was the problem.

Everything.

All of it happening, simultaneously and never-ending, and she was so goddamn incandescently happy, she was half certain her whole body was going to explode into confetti at some point, but Emma was also a little overwhelmed and they hadn’t really planned on any of this.

They just asked for two dozen copies of their first ultrasound.

God, that really had to be a record.

“We should toast, don’t you think?” Mr. Vankald asked, appearing with a bottle in one hand and a plate of baked goods in the other. Killian tensed behind Emma. “What? We...there’s champagne.”

It was like someone had pulled the oxygen out of the room or cast some kind of freezing spell, all of them stuck stock-still with wide eyes and Mary Margaret had her hand over her mouth.

Emma’s stomach flipped.

“Emma,” Mrs. Vankald said slowly, and she could almost hear the gears working in her head. “Are you alright?” “Fine, fine, I’m just...just need some air.”

She moved before anyone could respond, and she couldn’t actually go outside because it was still freezing out and Killian would actually explode if he realized Emma was anywhere that wasn’t perfectly temperature controlled.

She wound up on the staircase in the foyer, the voices quiet down the hall and Mary Margaret was talking, playing distraction and decoy and Phillip might have been talking about his and Aurora’s wedding plans.

“Hey.” Emma’s head snapped up to find Robin staring cautiously at her, a smile tugging at the ends of his lips. “Hey,” she repeated. “What are you...is Killian…” “Fine, fine, trying to answer Mr. and Mrs. V’s rather impressive amount of questions without actually answering them, but he’s had enough media training. I think it’s Lucas’ proudest moment, honestly.”

Emma’s laugh was shaky at best, but her lungs appreciated the burst of oxygen she provided them. “Do you think I can just blame hormones for everything?” she asked, and Robin’s entire expression shifted when he smiled.

“For the next nine months at least.” “I’m already about a month and a half in.” “Ah, technicalities,” he promised, dropping down next to her. “You know, when Marian was expecting Roland, I was a mess. Constantly worried and terrified of being on the road and it was…” He shook his head, licking his lips, and Emma tried not to blame hormones for the tears in her eyes. “And I didn’t really have anyone when it was…” The rest of the sentence hung in the air around them – when it was over and he was alone with an infant and a professional hockey career and the tears were warm when they landed on Emma’s cheeks.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

Robin shook his head. “That’s not your fault. And not why I came out here. I’m not trying to ruin the mood of the celebration.” “I think I did a pretty good job of that, actually.” “Nah, freaked Cap out a little bit, but you might have to get used to that.” “Yeah, I kind of figured,” Emma admitted. “Scarlet was joking about sitting schedules, but I think Killian’s actually started considering those now that the idea’s been planted.” “I’ve got no doubt. That’s not a bad thing, either.” “I know. And I know I can’t really blame the hormones for freaking out, but I wasn’t entirely expecting champagne and do you think Mrs. Vankald is real? Like a real, human person?” Robin’s laugh echoed off the walls of the foyer and the very fancy banister next to them and Emma had to check and make sure the photos just underneath hadn’t fallen on the floor. “You know sometimes I wonder,” he admitted. “It would take some kind of saint to raise Cap and Liam at the same time. But, uh, I think she did a pretty fantastic job. Her and Mr. V. They’re…” “Next level?” “Yeah, exactly that.”

Emma hummed in the back of her throat, tugging on the ends of her hair and the ring around her neck and she knew there was more to this conversation. “It’s been so different,” Robin murmured, soft enough that Emma wasn’t sure she heard him at first. “Cap, I mean. He’s...when he got hurt, we thought that was it. He shut down. Sat upstairs in that room and wouldn’t get on the ice and I thought he was going to check me into the wall when I got here.” “Wait, what?” “That’s Liam’s fault, really, he taught Cap how to do this thing with his stick right under a guy’s shoulder blade and--”

“--No, no, that’s not what I meant,” Emma interrupted. “You came here? To do what?” “Get Cap back on the ice,” he shrugged. “That’s...Cap never mentioned that.” It wasn’t a question, but Emma shook her head anyway. “Nah, I think he’s kind of ashamed of it?” That was a question. She squeezed one eye closed. “He’s a bit of a perfectionist, y’know?” “Yeah, a bit. Scarlet would have several other opinions about it, but he lived with Cap, so he’s got a whole slew of stories. But, uh, yeah, I came and told him to get his shit together. HIs life wasn’t over, even when he thought it had to be, even after he thought he’d ruined everything.” “Liam’s injury wasn’t his fault.” “I don’t know that he’ll ever truly believe that,” Robin muttered, a note of something on the edge of his voice. “But that’s kind of where I’m going with this and why I understand how you ended up on these steps.” “Yeah?”

Robin nodded, and the teasing glint in his eye was far too similar to Roland’s. “Cap thought everything was over, but we got him out of that room and back on the ice and he’s finally starting to realize that there’s even more away from the ice. That’s because of you. And I know he’s worried because shit can wrong and sometimes it does go wrong, but sometimes it’s…”

He exhaled, that same smile on his face when he met Emma’s gaze. She was just going to cry for the rest of the night.

“Sometimes it’s absolutely incredible,” Robin finished. “And you think you’re going to be alone forever, but you stumble into a city and a team and a family that inadvertently freaks you out with champagne toasts.” “Was it that obvious?” Emma asked.

“Painfully.” “Jeez. I should apologize.” “Nah,” Robin objected, bumping his shoulder against hers familiarly. “But neither one of you are alone in this. Maybe too not alone, honestly.” “Those double negatives.” “You totally kept up.” Emma nodded, smile feeling a bit more natural and pulse a bit more normal and she wasn’t even surprised to hear another set of footsteps coming towards them.

Mary Margaret’s eyes were red. “You ok?” she asked, and Emma nodded with a honesty that was equal parts nice and a little surprising. “Scarlet is telling slightly out of place jokes and recounting your ability to pick locks to the Vankalds in an attempt to distract them.” “Oh my God,” Emma groaned. Robin kept laughing. “Is Killian…” “Fine, fine, appropriately deflected and then started muttering something about ginger and searching the cabinets and he kind of lost me after that.” “Morning sickness,” Emma and Robin said at the same time. Mary Margaret’s eyes widened.

“I know some things,” Robin shrugged. “Like how Mary Margaret’s been dying to stare at your ring for hours.”

Mary Margaret gasped and Emma nearly cackled, but they’d been holed up in some quasi vacation for three days post-Games and her ring was stupid gorgeous.

“Lucas told me,” Robin explained. “She got very chatty while trying to decide who to call to break down Cap and Emma’s door.” “David made a pretty good dent,” Emma muttered, groaning when Mary Margaret nearly ripped her wrist out of its socket. “Jeez, Reese’s, my hand’s not going anywhere.”

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Mary Margaret mumbled. “I’m just…” “Excited?” She nodded. “Yeah, me too.”

They sat there for another five minutes, Mary Margaret staring at Emma’s ring like she knew how to describe luminosity or what a carat was, asking questions about wedding planning and trying, rather obviously, to get Emma’s nerves under control.

It totally worked.

And none of them were surprised when Killian walked into the lobby, tongue pressed on the side of his cheek and his left hand stuck in his hair.

“Scarlet’s started talking about that one kid who kept trying to talk to me while I was checking him, so I figured that was my cue to leave.”

“Someone was trying to talk to you while you were checking him?” Mary Margaret asked. “In the Olympics?” “They wanted his autograph,” Emma explained. “He’s super famous and important.” “Makes sense.” Killian didn’t object, but his eyes flitted towards Emma and she should probably apologize to him. “Well,” Mary Margaret said, standing up abruptly and none of them were very good at subtle. “This is probably the point where we go and make sure Rol and Henry aren’t trying to play hockey in the hallway, right?” “Too late,” Killian said, nodding towards the sound of a crash. “The house is used to it.” “Mrs. V is honestly a saint.” “That too.” Robin nodded, Mary Margaret already halfway towards the kitchen and Emma needed to learn some breathing exercises or something. She scrunched her nose, twisting the ring around her neck, and Killian appeared have become some kind of statue at some point.

“I think it’s about time little Vankald and I had a serious discussion about her boyfriend’s inability to provide me with an adequate amount of stick-tape every night," Robin said pointedly.

“Yeah, Banana will love that,” Killian muttered, as Robin clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re as subtle as two tons of bricks.” “And one threat to check you down the staircase and into oncoming traffic.”

Killian blinked, a reference Emma didn’t entirely understand, but she had a pretty good hunch and Roland had absolutely broken something in the hallway. “Where did he even get a stick?” Emma asked as soon as Robin was gone, working a quiet sound out of Killian. “Roland. And I’m assuming Henry. Do they both have sticks?” “I’m at least ninety-nine percent positive Banana found them.” “From the Garden?” He shook his head, sinking down next to her and tugging her fingers away from her ring. “Nah, they were downstairs. One of them’s got my initials on it.” “You put your initials on your stick?” “To make sure Liam couldn’t use it. Mine had more goals.” “Ah, naturally.” “He was more of a set-up guy anyway,” Killian reasoned, and his fingers fit very nicely in between hers. Emma focused on that. It helped settle the butterflies. “Are you alright, Swan?” he asked, the question sounding far too loud and far too cautious for the number of sonograms sitting in her bag a few feet away.

“Yeah, I think so. I’m...are you…” “You’ve got to finish the sentences, love.” “I know, I know,” she mumbled, and she didn’t think she imagined the way his hand tightened. “Ok, I’m going to say something and it’s not bad, per se, but--” “--Emma.” “Oh my God, you can’t just do that.” Killian widened his eyes, and it was way too much blue and even more feeling, but Emma’s lungs continued to do their job and her stomach stayed where it was supposed and she wasn’t even surprised when he tugged her hand up to brush his lips under her other ring.

God.

“It all happened really quickly, didn’t it?” Emma asked, not entirely appreciating the way her voice sounded. “And I know I keep circling around on freakouts here, but I’m really considering blaming hormones forever and, like, even after we have this kid and--”

She didn’t finish. That was probably for the best. She’d lost track of her point as soon as Killian started kissing her again.

They were sitting on different steps, so the angles were a bit off, Emma twisted and Killian trying to lean up, with his weight resting on his left hand and that couldn’t have been good for the bruises that had started looking a little green two days before.

He didn’t let go of her hand, but Emma’s fingers still managed to find their way into his hair and it was a goddamn disaster of teeth and lips and whatever the hell he was doing with his tongue, tracing it over her bottom lip until she was fairly positive she was actually melting on the Vankald’s staircase.

That would probably make this whole impending grandparent thing kind of awkward.

And, like, family holidays.

They got family holidays now – on some sort of indefinite basis.

“God, we’ve really got to stop answering major life questions with makeouts,” Emma mumbled, but the point got kind of lost when she hadn’t actually moved her mouth away from Killian’s.

She could feel his smile as easily as she could hear it, a whole other level of happily ever after, and maybe she wouldn’t freak out about the rest of their lives for, like, at least a week after this.

“I love you,” he said, and for all the times he’d told her that in general and that day, this one felt decidedly different. It felt like a promise and something bigger than that and his fingers were soft on her cheek when she started fucking crying again.

“Was that the answer?” “That and the makeouts.” Emma laughed, sliding down the stair and rolling her eyes when Killian groaned at the unnecessary risk. “Heart attack,” she mumbled. “Blood pressure. Something about stress being detrimental to scoring goals.” “I don’t think that’s an actual scientific study.” “I’m going to find one. Or use you as my subject.”

“Seems a little devious, honestly,” Killian said, slinging an arm around her. “It’s quick, Swan, or quicker than previous plans. But...it’s good. The best. Right?” “Are you asking me for confirmation?” “Yes.” She pulled back at the quick response – all three letters feeling like they were hanging in front of her face and waiting for her approval, but Emma had never been good at talking or discussing and they were so goddamn good at kissing.

It felt wrong to break the streak, anyway.

“Did you totally know?” she asked, a few moments later. They would have to do something about Killian’s hair before they went back into the dining room.

He nodded. “I had a fairly good feeling. And I get it, Swan, I do. I am...terrified isn’t the right word, but it’s...the rest of our lives, right?” “You’ve got to stop checking for confirmation. I'm sorry for freaking out.”

“I spent an entire international flight looking up facts about brain activity and joints and how early kids could get on the ice. I think we’re on fairly even footing, Swan.” She bit her lip so she didn’t do something absolutely absurd like giggle again or possibly start sobbing, but neither of those seemed like options the world wanted her to have and Emma was incredibly in love with her fiancé.

She kept calling him that in her head.

It was nice.

“All-time leading goal scorer,” she muttered. “Scarlet really ran interference on the Vanakalds?”

“Lucas helped. Lots of Olympic stories and something about luge. Locksley and Mary Margaret tag-team on the supportive speech?” Emma shook her head. “Robin ran solo for awhile, actually. I kind of forgot it was all something he’d been through before, you know? Hockey and a kid and figuring it all out.” “He needs to update his hope speeches,” Killian muttered, but he couldn’t quite get enough venom in his voice to make it sound like he was actually upset. And he couldn’t seem to stop touching Emma, fingers tracing over her shoulder and her side and ghosting over the front of her stomach. “That hasn’t changed in several years.” “Ah, well, tried and true, right? And maybe he can get some tips from Reese’s.” Killian grinned, kissing her quickly and his hand hadn’t moved. “We should probably explain your aversion to champagne, Swan.” “Yeah, probably. I’m not...I’m not running anywhere, I promise, just trying to process having it all, you know?”

“I know, love. That makes two of us. C’mon, before Banana starts complaining about using up all her data.”

It took a couple moments to get everyone back into their designated seats in the dining room and several different phones were playing several different Olympic highlights, Roland climbing on top of Killian as soon as he sat down.

Mrs. Vankald looked nervous.

“So, uh,” Mr. Vankald started, sitting at the head of the table, and Emma could just make out Liam laughing from the FaceTime in Colorado. Elsa sounded like she told him to be quiet. Anna was barely holding onto her phone. “Can you get them to be quite?” Mr. Vankald asked, nodding towards the screen and there were muttered sorry, Mr. V and sorry, Dad from several thousand miles away.

“I’m sorry about before,” Emma said. “But, well--” “--It’s not just an engagement, is it?” Mrs. Vankald asked, and Emma shook her head. Killian’s hand found hers underneath the table.

“I’m pregnant.”

Anna dropped her phone – several exclamations and curses from Colorado and no one apologized to Henry or Roland because they were all too busy screaming and shouting and cheering and no one was sitting down anymore.

Emma squeezed Killian’s hand.

Or the other way around.

Neither one of them let go.

Mr. Vankald moved first, stepping around the table to shake Killian’s hand and pull Emma into a tight hug. “That’s wonderful news,” he said, voice gruff and no one in that dining room had any control over their emotions.

“There’s, uh….there’s more,” Killian muttered softly. Emma was briefly concerned for the state of Mrs. Vankald’s eyes.

It couldn't have been safe for them to be that wide.

“It’s not bad,” Emma promised, practically shouting the words at the crowd around them. “Really. It’s more of a request?” “What kind of request?” Mr. Vankald asked.

Emma felt Killian take a deep breath behind her. “Well, it’s way too early to know for sure, but we went to doctor today and…” The room exploded in another round of noise, Elsa’s cry probably doing damage to everyone’s ears, but Killian couldn’t glare at all of them and he only let go of Emma’s hand to wrap it around her waist, fingers toying with the end of her team-branded t-shirt. “None of you are getting the pictures if you’re all going to be assholes about this.”

“There are pictures?” Mary Margaret whispered, Ruby behind her with both her hands over her mouth and tears in her eyes.

Killian nodded. “Yeah, way too many honestly, but you’re all distracting me from my point.” He turned, another deep breath and Mrs. Vankald was biting her lip. “It’s way too early to know,” he repeated, “but, we were thinking if it’s a boy, we’d like to name him…Matthew.”

Anna was going to do permanent damage to her phone.

Mrs. Vankald sat down.

“Oh,” she muttered, hands shaking slightly to try and brush the tears away, and Emma didn’t quite push Killian forward, was probably some kind of joint effort, but he moved and he was crouched in front of Mrs. Vankald, and Will might have been taking pictures.

“Anna’s too busy crying and trying to make sure El sees this to do it,” he reasoned when Emma glanced at him questioningly.

Mrs. Vankald rested her hand on Killian’s cheek, a small smile on her face and Emma couldn't remember seeing Mr. Vankald look like that – as if the entire world had been righted on its axis and nothing would ever be wrong again.

It all kind of felt like that.

Happily ever after or happily ever...the rest of their lives.

“Of course,” Mrs. Vankald mumbled. “Of course. That’s…” “Thank you,” Mr. Vankald finished, shaking his head before Killian could get his objection out. “It’d be an honor, my boy.”

No one really stopped crying, and the baked goods were almost unfairly good, which almost begged the question why they even still tried making bread pudding at Christmas, but Emma forget the question by the time they passed out sonogram photos and she was going to make fun of whatever noise Ruby made as soon as her eyes landed on the little blob-type thing for the rest of her life.

“The doctor thought we were insane,” Emma said. “We just kept asking for more.” “Yeah, well, you guys are super weird,” Ruby countered, but the insult didn’t land when she was sniffling. “Was there...you’re supposed to get some kind of due date, right?” “Why do you know that?”

“Did you not?” “You’re avoiding the question.” “I’m good at my job.” Emma rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling and she wasn’t quite dreading the road trip when an entire downtown brownstone was clutching seven-week sonograms like they’d been dipped in gold. “Start of next season,” she answered. “October. ‘Ish.” “So just in time for a title defense, huh?” Will asked. “No jinx.” “No jinx,” Emma repeated.

She fell asleep in the backseat of the cab, her head on Killian’s shoulder and his arm around her waist. “Just tell him to keep driving around,” she mumbled. “Put that contract extension to good use.” “Yeah, I think that’s what college funds are for, Swan,” Killian chuckled. He kept his arm around her as they moved into the building, nodding in response to another critique of the penalty kill and make sure you get that push in the standings, huh, and Emma barely opened her eyes while they were in the elevator.

She wasn’t quite sure how they got to bed, simply content that they had, pillows kicked onto the floor and blankets twisted between them, and the only thing she’d noticed was the sonogram on the fridge door.

“I love you,” Emma mumbled, mostly into the pillow under her head, but Killian kissed just behind her ear and she knew he heard.

“I know, Swan. I love you, too.” It was the best she slept since they got back from the Games.