Can We Please Talk About…

canwetalkaboutcaptainswan:

The First Time It Happened? (A Leia fic) 

Hey, my loves! It’s been too long since I bestowed a Leia fic upon you. This is part 1/? of the story of how Captain Killian-can’t-get-enough-of-his-daughter Jones can’t stop waking up in the middle of the night because he’s just too stinkin in love with his little girl. Leia is 6 weeks old. This is literally nothing but fluff, AS ALWAYS. 

***

The first time it happens, Emma wakes up in a panic. Her arm stretches across the bed to find Killian’s side empty, her hand groping at nothing. Her heart races as her eyes adjust to the darkness enveloping their room while she jumps out of bed. There’s only one place he could be, and if she doesn’t find him there she knows she’ll combust with fear. She races down the hallway.

She exhales loudly in the doorway to 6-week-old Leia’s room, prompting her husband to look up from his daughter’s face to behold his wife’s. Killian is in the rocking chair in the corner of the room, Leia fast asleep in his protective arms.

“You scared the hell out of me,” Emma scolds, crossing her own arms and entering the room. “Did she wake up? How come you didn’t wake me up?” That was their usual routine. Killian had the ears of a bat when it came to his daughter, and he always woke Emma whenever Leia woke so they could tend to her together.

“I’m sorry, love,” he whispers, a finger of his tracing lines on Leia’s pink cheek. “No, she didn’t wake. I did. Couldn’t stop thinking about her.”

Emma’s expression softens, and she tiptoes a little closer to her two favourite people. “Room for me?” she asks quietly.

Killian shifts Leia to one arm, inviting Emma to join them in the rocker. She climbs onto his lap willingly, and he settles Leia against Emma’s chest, effectively holding both of them. Even while she knows Killian’s got an expert hold on her, Emma can’t help but curl her own arm around Leia, too, her fingers stroking the fabric that covers her round little belly. Emma’s eyes have well adjusted now and she gazes down at her little girl. Their little girl. Even after six weeks, Emma is still in perplexed awe at how perfect of a blend she is of herself and Killian. Killian’s lips, her nose. Killian’s hair, her eyes. Killian’s dramatic flare, her unending stubbornness.  

Killian breaks the silence, pulling Emma out of her reverie. “It scares me, sometimes,” he admits to her, his eyes back on Leia.

The fact that it’s the middle of the night does not hinder Emma’s ability to understand exactly what her husband means. “How much you love her? I know. Scares me, too.”

“All the while she grew inside you, I thought…I thought I knew what it was like to love her. But now, now that she’s here, I just…it consumes my every thought. Like just now, when I woke. I couldn’t stop thinking about how badly I wanted to touch my pinkie to her little nose,” he rambles on, performing the action he’d just named. “How’s it possible to love somebody’s nose so much?”

Emma smiles so wide that the skin that borders her eyes crinkles tightly. “I thought you loved my nose?!” she says, feigning offence.

Killian grins, raising his pointer finger to boop Emma’s nose this time. “Oh, I do,” he assures her, softly stroking her nose’s tip, “But not quite as much as I love this one.” His finger returns to Leia’s nose, and Emma strokes his knuckles.

“It’s possible,” she says slowly, returning to his earlier question, “Because that particular nose is attached to your kid. And you’ll never love anyone or anything more than you love your kid. Not even your wife,” she tells him, her voice turning toward teasing at the end.

“She’s our kid,” he clarifies, pressing his lips to her temple, “And I love my wife very, very much.”

“Mmm,” Emma hums at his words, turning her face to press her lips to his gently. He raises his hand to cup her face, drawing his thumb over her jawbone. She melts into the kiss, her head spinning. He breaks it and presses his forehead to hers, breathing in her scent before looking back down at Leia.

“She looks exactly like you,” he says.

Emma just sighs. “You say that every single day, Killian.”

“Because I’ll never be over it, love. She’s your spitting image.”

“Killian, she’s got your hair. And your lips. Look at those lips.”

Killian traces Leia’s lips with his thumb. “So beautiful,” he murmurs, watching as Leia yawns in her sleep, her little mouth forming a small little O.

Emma’s breath catches at the loving expression on Killian’s face, as it so often does. There truly aren’t words to describe how much he loves his little girl. She cards her fingers through his hair. “We should really get back to bed,” she whispers.

“But she’s just so precious,” he argues, directing his gaze toward Leia’s sleeping features, “I quite love holding her.”

Emma rolls her eyes. “Oh, you don’t say,” she teases him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, defensive.

Emma shakes her head playfully. “Oh, nothing. I mean, you only hold her for the majority of each day, awake or asleep, in the crook of your arm, just there…you never let my parents hold her, and even I have to beg…and you’re telling me you like it? Never would’ve guessed.”

Killian huffs. “Aren’t I allowed to hold my own daughter, Swan?”

“Yes, of course. But you’re also allowed to let her sleep in her crib and teach her to be a nice, independent baby.”

“She likes it when I hold her,” he says, still really defensive. Emma deems this fight not one to have in the wee hours of the night.

“Of course she does,” Emma assures him supportively, turning her attention back to the little person in Killian’s hold. “You love that daddy of yours, don’t you, little bird? Yes, I know,” she coos to the sleeping baby, brushing her fingers over the soft mat of hair on the crown of her head, “Mummy loves him, too.”

Killian smiles, and Emma leans in to kiss his cheek, nuzzling her face there. “Okay, Daddy,” she coaxes, wiggling in his arms, “Your little princess will be calling for you soon enough. You’d best put her back so you can hold me for a change.”

Killian chuckles while Emma gets up carefully, pulling him to a stand with her. Killian leans down to press a gentle kiss to Leia’s forehead before he lowers the tiny infant into her crib. “I’ll be right down the hall, my littlest love,” he promises her, watching her little tummy rise and fall. “Mummy needs a cuddle.”

Killian threads his fingers through Emma’s, intent on finally retreating toward the door. But he’s surprised to find Emma’s feet planted in place next to Leia’s crib, his tug at her hand useless. “What is it, love?” he asks, peering down into the crib, brief panic brewing as he wonders if Emma’s found something out of place.

“Nothing,” she assures him, squeezing his hand. “I just…love her. I just love her.”

Keeping their fingers threaded, Killian wraps both of his arms around his wife, cuddling behind her and leaning his chin on her shoulder. They both watch Leia for a few minutes longer, just swaying there in front of her crib, never tiring of staring at her sweet little face. It’s such a simple, loving gesture, two parents watching over their child; but all the same, it’s one that neither of them experienced as children. And it’s for that reason that they stand, steady and proud, both determined to ensure that their daughter never has to grow up like they did.

And that was the first time.