#lads this one's been sitting in the wip folder for .. at least a month

[emeraldghast]

survivor's guilt

[frenchy-and-the-sea]

WIP Whenever

I know I got tagged in this ages ago by @captainsaku and a few others, but I didn't really have anything in the works enough to share. Then I was going through my WIP folder last night and found this first attempt I made at something winter-y before Forward, Then happened, and I figured it deserved a little spotlight before it went to rest in my Darlings doc. SO HERE, take a WIP that won't be finished, but worked well all the same.

I tag @rufinagertrude , @bladeverbena , @thefluffynug , @thereluctantinquisitor and anyone else who’s feeling up to it! (I’m procrastinating going to work to type this so seriously, if I didn’t tag you and you wanna do it, just do it and say I did!)

----

Alex heard the boots approaching, saw the wide shadow pass over her lantern light, and knew what was coming before the words ever left Tahir’s mouth.

“You can’t patch that thing again, lad.”

“I’m not in much of a state to have a choice,” she muttered around the needle clenched between her teeth. “The chest has been empty for months, even if I wasn’t putting every advance I had towards my debts. It’s just this seam under the arm, is all -”

“It’s been that seam the last two times you’ve set about it,” Tahir said, folding his arms over his chest. Alex just shrugged. The irritation of having to patch her increasingly threadbare coat every week or so was worth having it at all. Even now, she could feel the bite of a chill on her arms, and that was in still air, in a calm harbor, with the deck steady beneath her feet. In the lash of wind and water, cold like that would kill her - or at least make her very sorry that it hadn’t.

Tahir grumbled something under his breath about being too reasonable for once, but otherwise didn’t argue. He took a position against the bulkhead instead, leaning back against it and watching her through the flickering half-dark cast off by the lantern. Alex raised an eyebrow.

“I thought you were headed ashore.”

“I am,” Tahir said, without moving. “Just trying to decide whether you’re coming along or not.”

Alex scoffed and plucked the needle from between her teeth. “I’m a bit busy, if you haven’t noticed.”

“Aye. That’s what I was deciding.”

Alex frowned and looked up to ask what that could possibly mean just as Tahir seemed to come to some kind of agreement with himself. He kicked off of the bulkhead wall and circled around her, back towards the darkened corridor of the companionway and out of sight. She watched him go, frowning. 

He appeared again a few minutes later, armed with something dark and misshapen that he tossed at her on his way back to his spot at the bulkhead.

“A few weeks early,” he said as she fumbled to catch it, “but I can’t sit here and watch you put any more sailcloth into that ragged peasant number. That you haven’t stuck your fingers full of holes yet is nothing short of a miracle.”

“Maybe because no one has thought to throw something at me while I’ve been at my mending," she muttered, but dutifully tucked her needle into the edge of her half-finished patch and turned her attention to the bundle in her hands. It was about the span of her lap, soft and formless and wrapped in a loose packet of sackcloth that had clearly seen better days. In the wavering lantern light, she could just make out a water stain on one corner, the hallmark of a long stay in a ship’s hold. 

“What is it?” she asked after a moment. Tahir leaned forward and hummed.

“Burlap, I think.” She fixed him with a scowl that, infuriatingly, only made him laugh. “Well, it wouldn’t have been wrapped up if you were meant to know! Just open it, lad. You’re smart enough that you can manage that without my direction, I think.”

That nearly warranted the entire thing to be thrown back at him, but Alex had been fighting all the little urges of a temperamental street rat for a few months now, and the work was finally starting to take. She pulled her reaction down to a roll of her eyes instead, then grabbed the edge of the package and shook the contents of it into her lap. A swath of heavy fabric tumbled out. In the shadows of the lower decks, it should have been impossible to tell exactly what it was, except that she spent the last hour bent painfully over the same silhouette, the same rigid seams, the same long, trailing line of a sleeve dangling down past her ankle...

Wide-eyed, Alex reached down and lifted a brand new coat into the light.

It was a simple number, all things considered: made of a coarse dark blue linen and lined heavily against the cold, with finishings of dull metal buttons that already looked to be on their way to tarnishing. It was deeply wrinkled from the stay in its packing, functional before it could even remotely be called handsome, unwashed and untailored and undecorated to the point of obscurity.

It was the finest thing that Alex had put her hands on in the better part of five years. 

“It was meant for Twelfth Night,” Tahir said from somewhere behind her. Even without looking, she could hear his grin. “And I suppose I was meant to wait until Sam and Bryce were here too. They helped tend the price, after all. Seemed to think it was worth not being kept up through the night by your shivering, but I’m sure they wanted to say so themselves.”

[itstimeforspring]

you outshine the morning sun, my son

obligatory bit of captain cobra while cleaning out cs wips folder. obligatory hamilton reference. obligatory baby jones. i couldn’t stop myself.

Henry Mills, to be honest, was tired of the crying.

Yes, he was a fifteen-year-old who was just now experiencing the pain of a baby sibling—Roland didn’t count; the child was walking and talking completely normally by the time they met—but he was still terribly annoyed.

Liam was adorable. According to his moms, he looked like Henry himself as a baby. Henry didn’t really see it; Liam looked exactly like Killian except with hair of a lighter brown, more like his. According to Regina, Liam was a much better baby than Henry—she said it with a reminiscent smile just tinged with pain and remembrance.

But good heavens, Liam cried so much.

He spent as much time over at Regina’s as he could, but really he needed to see Emma too. So every now and then he suffered through a night or two of a screaming six pounds of young infant.

He read to the kid as much as he could, since Killian claimed that the boy sometimes actually slept a few hours at night after said story. Therefore, Henry tried to be decent and take Liam off Emma and Killian’s hands for a while so they could get a modicum of sleep. He held the kid in one arm—after Killian showing him how to not drop the wiggling child—and flipped the pages in the book.

He could have sworn that Liam preferred the tale of Charles and Leia without being told that the two were his parents.

But seriously, the kid was starting to bug him.

One morning when Liam had kept all of them up pretty much all night and had finally cried himself to sleep at the wonderful hour of 5:30 am, he walked into the kitchen and poured himself a bowl of cereal. Emma followed him soon after, leaving Killian still asleep. He had heard Killian whispering and singing along with the crying at 5:30, so his stepdad had probably gotten absolutely no sleep before then.

“Sorry about the baby,” she said, padding over to the microwave to attempt hot chocolate.

“It’s fine,” Henry replied, trying to be a good, polite teenager. It was slowly getting harder. “How long ‘til he sleeps through the night?”

“Absolutely no idea,” Emma muttered, banging her head against the microwave before opening it and pulling out a steaming hot mug for Henry. “I asked Regina a few days ago, and she said it took almost a year for you.”

Henry sighed and took the mug without a word.

Emma stared at him for a moment, getting out her own swan-emblazoned mug. “You want to get out of the house, kid?”

Henry rolled his eyes at his cereal. “Yeah, just a bit, but there’s only so much ‘Play with me, Henry!’ from Neal that I can handle, either.”

Emma made some combination of a grin and a grimace. “Understood. So it’s crying or incessant pleading. One can communicate and the other can’t, both plusses and minuses.”

Henry nodded gravely. “Violet’s busy, already checked, before you ask.”

Emma smirked, sipping from her hot chocolate. Just then, the baby squeaked shrilly. Emma groaned. “Just a second,” she said before walking up the stairs to Liam’s room.

Henry sighed again. Just then, Killian trudged into the kitchen, probably having passed Emma in on the stairs: one fleeing the baby, the other trying to prevent another meltdown. As he scrubbed at his eyes, he hit the kitchen counter. Instead of backing up, he just collapsed into it for a moment.

“How long were you up?” Henry asked out of curiosity.

Killian didn’t move his head from its resting place on the counter. “The lad didn’t sleep at all until 5:49, so I was awake until 5:50.” Emma walked in with Liam in her arms at that moment. Killian moved his head just enough to see Emma with one eye. “Why is the little pirate awake again? I spent long enough working on the whole sleep thing last night.”

“Probably hungry.”

“Not my area,” Killian yawned, returning his head to the counter. Emma slapped him on the back as she passed by, heading once more to the microwave. If the microwave suddenly died, Henry mused, they’d probably all also perish with it.

“Eat something, Killian,” Emma said as she warmed up Liam’s bottle, the little guy making yummy noises. Henry snorted as Killian rustled around on the countertop without opening his eyes, probably trying to find the banana that Henry had left the day before.

Finally he found the banana and trudged over to sit next to Henry. Henry glanced at him occasionally as he peeled the banana. His eyes were rimmed with smudged eyeliner and dark circles from lack of sleep, but they still had that sparkle that hadn’t faded from the moment Liam was born a month and a half ago. If anything, the sparkle was brighter.

“Henry,” Killian started, and then stopped.

“Yeah?” Henry prompted.

Killian glanced up at Emma and received an encouraging nod. “I was thinking last night while trying to coax the little lad to sleep. Perhaps you and I could take a break from the house, you from this one, your grandparents, and the queen’s, and I could attempt to regain some energy.”

Henry stared at him. They hadn’t done anything like this together since before Liam was born, possibly not since Gideon was threatening Emma. “Sure, that sounds good. No wailing children and no never-ending questions. Sounds like a vacation,” he grinned.

Killian grinned in response, some of the tiredness seemingly lifted off with that grin. Emma smiled at them from behind the counter, holding Liam and his bottle. “Go get ready, then, both of you, before Liam decides we all need to spend the day admiring his feet with him.” Liam pulled away from the bottle and squeaked before grabbing at Emma’s fingers. They all smiled at the baby for a moment. He was pretty stinking cute.

Then Henry jumped up and placed his mug and bowl in the sink, then ran for his room to get dressed. Before he closed the door, he heard Emma and Killian talking and unashamedly stopped to listen.

“Where are you going?” Emma asked.

“Wherever he wants. I’ve no plans for the day,” Killian replied, that grin still in his voice.

“Both of you need it. Some grown-up guy time without an infant. Before you ask, I’ll call if there’s any trouble that Mary Margaret, David, Regina, Dr. Whale, and I all working together can’t fix.” They probably kissed right there, but Henry closed the door in time.

He yanked his shoes on and wrapped his scarf a little more securely. He had had that scarf for longer than he had known who Emma was, he mused as he walked back into the kitchen. How in the world did it still fit? As he passed his mom and Killian’s room, he heard the creaking of the leather of Killian’s brace then the click of the hook snapping into place.

He grinned. That sound was still pretty awesome even after having known Killian for more than three years.

Killian followed him into the kitchen. “So, lad, where would you like to go on this vacation day?” he asked as he walked into the living room to kiss Liam on the forehead and Emma on the lips once more. Henry shrugged and hugged his mom and patted Liam’s hand.

“No idea, let’s just get out of here,” he said. For goodness sake, going to look down the well in the woods with Killian would be better than sitting in the house with crying or sleeping infant with sometimes snappy Emma.

“You guys have fun,” Emma called as they opened the door, a faint trace of a laugh in her voice. Liam started crying when Killian closed the door behind them.

Killian stood just in front of the door for a moment, looking suddenly conflicted. “Come on, Mom’s got him. She can handle a baby without you in the house for a while,” Henry insisted, going just short of pleading and tugging at his hook.

Killian sighed. “Aye, lad, you’re right.”

“I know I am. Come on, Killian, let’s do something before Liam knocks down the door by screaming to get to you.”

Sure enough, there was a sudden reedy shriek and Emma started shushing the baby and Henry did have to pull Killian back by the hook and down the stairs. “I haven’t been without the lad since he was born. Don’t quite know how to move without making sure that the baby’s okay. I’m sorry, Henry.”

“Well, let’s just get out to the rest of Storybrooke, do something for a few hours.”

Killian grinned. “What say we go to Granny’s and get a substantial breakfast, and then take the Jolly out for a bit?”

Henry nodded vigorously. “Can I order all the bacon?”

“You may order as much as you like. Whether Lady Lucas gives you all of the bacon and eggs is her prerogative, not mine.”

Henry ended up ordering fries along with his bacon and eggs, and they played dice for the fries. Henry was getting better, way better—he ended up keeping at least 20 of the French pieces of fried goodness. They chatted about Violet and school for a few minutes until the lady herself entered the restaurant.

“How’s the baby?” Violet asked eagerly when she and her father made their way over. She hadn’t yet been invited over to see him since the kid had been born a bit early and Killian, David, and Snow were deathly afraid of transmittable diseases. Emma’s reminders about building up Liam’s immune system had not been heard or understood, so she put up with it for the sake of their selective and adorable medieval minds.

“He’s doing well,” Killian said, pulling out his phone to show off the latest picture as he was apparently obligated to do. Luckily—or unluckily—for Henry, the top picture was one of him holding Liam and reading a story from the book. Violet aww’ed adorably and Henry figured it was a stroke of good luck that that picture was the first one.

Violet’s father smiled, placing his hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “Vi was wondering when we could visit the little lad, if that would be fine with you and the Saviour.” He hadn’t gotten used to calling Emma any of her normal names aside from her destiny-provided calling. It was still a bit jarring.

“Any time,” Henry blurted out. He heard Killian stifle a laugh and reiterate the invitation. He didn’t really care that he wasn’t quite being treated as a fifteen-year-old, but the stars in Violet’s eyes were enough to endure it.

Violet and her father wandered away after a few minutes to devour their own food, and Killian paid with a few doubloons. As they left Granny’s, Henry asked, “How in the world do you still have doubloons? You haven’t been to the Enchanted Forest in like two years.”

“I’m a pirate, son. You’d be amazed at how much wealth I can store in the Jolly Roger.”

“So college is paid for?”

Killian threw his arm around Henry’s shoulders and leaned in to whisper, “As far as I can tell from Emma’s griping, yes, college for you and Liam is paid for.” He pulled away with a grin.

Henry groaned. He was still having to pack his lunch here, and Killian had enough stashed away for two—possibly more—college educations? Not fair.

They got to the Jolly without incident, which was an accomplishment. Normally, Henry could count at least five things that could go wrong on the way to the good old ship. Killian also managed to not look at his phone to check on Emma and Liam. That was also an accomplishment.

Killian immediately moved to the helm of the ship to check on the overall state of the ship, since he’d only managed to make it out to the docks twice since Liam was born. “Henry, would you tighten the ropes all around? I need to examine the alignment of the steering if we’re to go anywhere. That is, I suppose—” He glanced up at Henry, who was standing in the center of the deck, feet shoulder-width apart, hand resting on an imaginary sword at his side, feeling powerful and heroic. “—if you wish to leave the town?”

“Sure,” Henry said, moving over to check the sails. “I’m up for anything.” Killian grinned abashedly and ran down below deck.

Several hours later, they were drifting on the gently rolling waves, looking up at the stars. Killian had texted Emma an hour previously to inform her they’d be out late, and Emma had responded with a picture of a sleeping Liam sprawled across her lap, a glass of wine in her hand, and the Netflix home screen on the TV in front of her. Killian had laughed and told Henry they could be out all night; Emma would probably be grateful.

“What’s that one?”

“That’s Cassiopeia,” Killian said. Henry met Killian’s gaze, and Killian had an eyebrow raised in polite scolding. “You taught me these, Henry. I would never forget.”

Henry smiled. That’s what he liked—loved—most about his stepdad. If something was important to him and he told Killian, Killian would never, ever forget. “What about that one?”

Killian craned his head to see where Henry was pointing. “I believe that’s Perseus.” Killian polished his hook with his jacket for a moment. “What say we acquire some glow in the dark stars, as I believe they’re called, and put them on Liam’s ceiling over the weekend?”

“That would be cool. I always wanted stars when I was a kid, but Regina didn’t like the glow.”

“We can get stars for your ceiling too, bring back the years of childhood?”

Henry shrugged, peering up at the Andromeda galaxy. “I think I’m too old for it now, but thanks. Liam will love it though. We can do them really, really detailed, too, if we get stars that are small enough.”

Killian leaned back on the main mast, glancing at Henry even as Henry looked at him. “You’ve grown so much,” Killian said, shaking his head.

“Since when?” Henry couldn’t help asking.

Killian used his patented seriously face. “Since I met you, lad. Since before your mother decided to let me reform myself.”

Henry laughed, embarrassed. Who knew where this conversation was going, honestly. Normally, the two of them didn’t do much deep talking. “You did pretty well, I think.”

Killian scoffed quietly. “It’s all you and Emma that have managed what I am now, Henry.” He turned to face him straight. He was wearing that smile he had sometimes when Liam managed a new skill in the baby book or when Emma used her magic or that time David made scrambled eggs one-handed. “It’s not really my place to say, but I’m so proud of you, Henry. You’ve become the man I’ve always wished I could be. Emma and Regina are more proud of you than they can express, and I know Baelfire is bragging to all of the other souls about how fantastic his son is.”

Henry smiled. Sometimes, he did feel like the stereotypical fifteen-year-old and think that no one understood him, but then he remembered that Killian had been like him. David as well, to an extent, but David had never had to doubt that someone loved him like Henry did before he found Emma. Killian hadn’t had anyone for years, when his brother was working and he was alone for days. Sometimes, Killian knew exactly what to say.

Killian returned the smile and nodded before looking back at the sky. Then they were silent for another hour except for comments about the sea, its smell and chill and glow. The silence was rejuvenating.

It approached midnight and Killian yawned. “What say we begin the journey back? I imagine Emma’s ready for a break from the lad at this point.”

Henry nodded, taking one more look at the stars before heading up to the helm. He didn’t remember the last time he was so calm.

“Henry?” Killian asked, still standing against the main mast.

“Oh, right. Can I steer on the way back?”

“Of course. You don’t need to ask, Henry.” Killian stepped up to stand next to Henry. He took a deep breath. “Liam is the luckiest child in the world, you know that? He’s got Emma for his mother, and he’s got you for a big brother.” Killian’s face turned serious. “I couldn’t wish for a better life for my son, and I never imagined I could be as blessed as you’ve blessed me.” Henry hugged Killian suddenly, letting himself bury his head in Killian’s shoulder. Killian wrapped his arms around Henry tightly.

They stood there for a few moments before pulling away. Henry grabbed ahold of the wheel again, grinning as Killian fake-scowled and trudged down to the ropes. The entire journey back to Storybrooke, Henry barely held back a grin.

When they got back to the house, Emma was holding a sleeping Liam. She passed the baby to Killian to hug Henry before sending him up to bed. He hugged Killian again briefly and kissed Liam on the cheek, then he took the stairs up to his room.

He stopped halfway up the stairs to listen. He heard Liam squeak in his sleep, probably as Killian and Emma hugged. “How was the trip?” Emma asked.

“It was wonderful,” Killian said. “He’s as good a sailor as myself, probably better.”

Emma laughed softly, trying to avoid waking the baby. “Jealous?”

Killian mirrored Emma’s laugh. “I’ve never been prouder of anyone in my life.”