Better than Bologna
My muse wanted Captain Cobra Dimples Swan (is that even a thing?) camping in the living room.
Rated S for Sugar Rush Warning because this is some seriously sweet fluff.
- / -
At first when Killian suggests the idea of them camping inside (they can’t camp outside like she’d originally promised Roland and Henry because of the snowstorm that came out of nowhere, and the consequential risk of hypothermia) she doesn’t know what kind of a night she’s letting herself in for.
But seeing him here now - wrestling with the tent in the middle of the living room in their new house by the water, trying not to pierce the nylon with his hook, flustered and cursing under his breath - she’s never seen him look more adorable, and she’s beginning to think that camping indoors was the best idea he ever had.
She supresses a laugh when his foot gets caught in the material and he mutters about this bloody stupid tent, stumbling across the living room. Roland giggles behind his hand from his spot on the couch, tucked beneath a mound of blankets, and Henry rolls his eyes.
Robin and Regina were going out for the first time tonight since the whole incident, and despite Killian’s constant reassurance that it’s not your fault, Swan and you did the right thing, you’re the Saviour – you save lives, she still can’t help but feel at least partly responsible for Regina’s heartbreak, so she thinks that she owes it to her to look after Roland for the night while they go out.
Untucking her legs from under herself, she pads across the living room and crouches down to untangle Killian’s boot from the collapsed tent.
She smirks and shakes her head at him, pressing a kiss to his lips, because he’s just so cute right now. (She thinks it better not to tell him this because really, Swan, you’ll ruin my reputation as a fearsome pirate Captain).
When she disappears into the kitchen to make everyone hot chocolate, Killian manages to get the tent ¾ stable, after figuring out which rods slot where and how they fix the tent into a structure that won’t collapse if they breathe too heavily over it.
He’s working on the last rod when Henry wanders over.
“Hey, Killian? Can we make smores later?”
Killian stops what he’s doing, brows knitting together in confusion.