Flufflet #6 for @lifeinahole27 as a reward for writing her CSBB!
Continuation of flufflets #3 and #5.
Artwork at the end is by @clockadile, who is amazinggggggggggg
There were almost too many resources, Killian thought, as he typed in another phrase to look up. There were the doctors and nurses at the clinic Swan insisted on going to; it was out of town, since she refused to permit Whale to, as she put it so eloquently, “go anywhere near my goddamn vagina.”
There were the books, both the old ones in the library and the newer ones that Emma purchased through the post. He read all of them, although he did think Emma had the right idea with the newer ones; perhaps after the baby was born, they could donate the books to the library.
And then, of course, there was the Google. It was a double-edged sword if he’d ever seen one, with more information than he’d ever thought could possibly exist. But it seemed nigh impossible to determine just which information was accurate, and all of the personal testimonials made everything even murkier.
“What are you looking up?” Swan asked from the couch.
“When the baby can hear,” he said. “I’m getting too many different answers.”
“Some Google tells me–”
“Some websites, Killian.”
“Well, some tell me that it could be as early as eighteen weeks, and some say as late as twenty-four.”
“Do you know which is correct?”
“No. Why, though?”
“Well … just that if she can hear us, then maybe we should take advantage of that.”
He loved that he could say that: she. It was only a week ago that they’d gone to the clinic, and the doctor had told them that they were having a daughter. It was nearly mind-boggling that the technology of the realm made it possible to know so much about an unborn child.
Hell, it was incredible just how much there was to know about a pregnancy in general. In the Enchanted Forest, a single missed monthly cycle was troubling but not necessarily an indication of pregnancy; it was typically only a second skipped cycle that tipped a woman off. But here? Here, Emma simply waited until her cycle was a day or two late, and then she (he still felt uncomfortable about this) urinated on a strange stick, and it informed them both that she was with child.
And he’d seen their child. The near-magic of the ultrasound machine meant that they both had been able to watch their daughter grow from a tiny little bean-shaped smudge into something resembling an actual human. And now, they knew they were having a beautiful baby girl.
His daughter. He was going to have a daughter.
“Killian, did you hear anything I just said, or are you not at 18 weeks yet?”
“Sorry, what?” He’d been so lost in his thoughts, he’d missed whatever Swan had said.
“Do you want to sing to her?”
“Would you be all right with that?”
She laughed. “Um, very. Besides, isn’t that the exact reason I’m pregnant?”
“Well, I’d like to think it would have happened anyway, regardless. But fair enough.”
He stood from the computer desk and headed to the couch; Swan had been lying down with her feet up, but she swung them around and sat up a bit. “All right, go for it, Daddy.” She patted the space next to her.
He sat beside her and then leaned forward. She wasn’t showing very much, but enough that the townsfolk were catching on. Emma had always been extremely slim, and so the way her stomach was beginning to protrude was an easy giveaway that she was either pregnant, or she was overindulging significantly and gaining weight in very strangely specific places.
His favorite thing about her stomach, what she called her “baby bump,” was that this was their child. Right here, taking up space, growing and becoming a child.
“Go for it,” Emma encouraged.
“Right.” He cleared his throat. “Hello, my love. This is your papa.” Bloody hell, he was going to be a father. Neither Bae nor Henry could have ever prepared him for this. “Your momma asked me to sing to you.” He looked up at said momma. “Are you sure about this?”
“She’s gotta learn about revenge sometime,” she joked.
Perhaps. But he balked at the idea that the first song he would sing to his daughter would be one of anger and sadness. He had a better idea.
“Tomorrow is uncertain,” he sang. “Who knows what it will bring?”
He looked up to find Emma staring down at him in wonder, and although he knew her emotions were a bit out of control (he’d done a lot of reading about hormones), he was still surprised to see that she had tears in her eyes.
“But one thing is for sure, love,” she continued. “With you, I have everything.”
He grinned and turned back to her stomach, and they sang together.
“And happily ever after is the way these stories go …”