Waking Dream
by misscam

Disclaimer: Not my characters, just my words.

Author's Note: Set pretty much right after 2x09.

II

Home. It was all he ever dreamed of from he was a young boy. A home.

He didn't need much to consider it a home either. The farm was. The forest while he and Snow fought to win the kingdom back became one. The castle after they won it they made one. And now a small apartment in Storybrooke, Maine, will be.

It doesn't need much to be a home to him, after all. Just those he loves, and now they're all here: Henry, Emma and Snow.

Henry hasn't stopped talking since they left Granny's, telling first Snow about everything that had happened while she was away while Emma used the bathroom to shower and change, and then the same to Emma when Snow took the bathroom.

Charming catches bits of it while he changes the linens, cleans and makes hot cocoa for them all. He knows he doesn't have to, that Emma and Snow are just happy to be home as is, but he can't quite help himself.

When he hands a cup to Emma, she gives him a short, grateful smile he longs to see more often. She should have reason to smile more often, he wants to give her reason to smile more often.

Henry has an easy smile, and Emma looks at him as if he is the most precious thing in the world. He knows the feeling.

He doesn't turn around when he feels a hand on his back, just stands still while Snow moves to his side, her arm going around him as she leans into him. She's changed to sleepwear, he notices, something quite to Mary Margarete's taste. He doesn't mind. He loved her as Mary Margaret as he loved her as Snow and now love her as both.

He tilts his head to kiss her temple and she makes a noise almost like a soft moan at the touch.

Emma looks at the both, he notices, but not with disapproval. Just a mix of emotions he doesn't know her well enough to read all of yet. Yet, that's the key.

He does read the exhaustion on her face; Snow mirrors it. They've had a very long day, he imagines.

"Come on, kid," he directs at Henry, who looks up at him with shining eyes. "I think it's time your mother and grandmother got some sleep."

Snow makes a soft giggle at 'grandmother', and he smiles at her before pressing another kiss to her temple. "I'll clean up here."

Snow nods at him before extracting herself from his side, Emma ushering Henry towards the bathroom with stern orders to brush his teeth.

"David?" Emma calls a moment later, and he turns to look at her.

"Thanks for taking care of Henry."

"Of course," he says automatically. "He is my grandson."

"Yeah," she acknowledges, with the unspoken that this also acknowledges that she is his daughter. "But still thanks."

With that she leaves him to gather the mugs and take them to the sink. As he finishes up, Henry emerges from the bathroom and heads straight for a hug.

"Hey," he says softly, as the boy looks up at him.

"We did it. We brought them back," Henry says, beaming. "And I have a good feeling about the horse letting me ride him tomorrow!"

With that, he heads to join Emma in bed, leaving Charming to turn of the lights before finding Snow.

She's fallen asleep in bed waiting for him, lashes dark against her pale skin, chest rising and falling every time she draws a breath. He smiles at the sight, letting the joy of it fill him. She's back. She's here. They're all here, wife, daughter and grandson. His family. They're here.

He gets changed quietly, not wanting to wake her. When he crawls into bed to join her, her body curves into his to fit together even as she sleeps on. As before the curse, he remembers, the recollection painful and heartwarming at the same time.

"I love you," he tells her sleeping form softly, kissing her shoulder and closing his eyes to the dark and the warmth of her body.

He sleeps.

II

Hot.

He's hot, the flames seeming to reach for him when he tries to move and the air painful to breath. Burning. This room is burning and he's stuck here and Snow, Snow isn't here.

She was here, wasn't she? Maybe it was just a dream. Maybe she's lost him again, maybe she'll always be lost to him, maybe...

The flames roar and he tries to listen. They seem to be saying his name, calling for him, and he staggers.

"Charming."

Snow. It is Snow, he realises, fighting to clear his head.

"Charming," she says again, and it's like a siren's call reaching through, making him open his eyes. He's not in the burning room anymore, he realises, but in bed encroached by the darkness of their home.

Encroached, but not covered by, because a single candle is burning on the nightstand. Enough light to illuminate Snow's face leaning over him. She must have lit it, he knows, as he would do for he when it was her having nightmares.

Now it is his turn.

He exhales softly, steadying his breath and willing the images of the nightmare away. Snow just watches him, eyes intent on his face, one hand on his cheek and the other almost protectively on his chest right above his heart.

"I tried to fall deep enough asleep to be there with you," she whispers, her voice catching a little. "I couldn't. I'm sorry."

"Snow," he says softly, lifting his head slightly to rest his forehead against hers. "To have you and Emma back I would gladly suffer far worse. This is a small price to pay and the nightmares will pass with time."

"Charming..."

"It was worth it," he insists again. "To have you here, it's worth it."

"You shouldn't be having nightmares at all," she insists. "You shouldn't have..."

He kisses her before she can voice more regrets, pulling her back down to the pillow with him. Her right fingers dig into the cloth of his t-shirt, as she is the one to tilt her head and deepen the kiss.

She makes a soft moan as his tongue brushes hers, such a familiar sound he can still never get enough of. Her left hand has gone around his neck, pressing him into her as if he's still not close enough.

She doesn't break the kiss as he pushes them both off the mattress, making him straddle her as he sits up. Her knees dig into the mattress on either side of his thighs, and he traces the curves of her legs as he finds the hem of her nightshirt and begins to pull it upwards.

She lifts her arms and breaks the kiss briefly as he yanks the nightshirt up and off, lifting his own arms obediently as she does the same to pull his shirt off. She's not wearing a bra, he has time to appreciate before she pulls him to her again and kisses him fiercely, her breasts pressing against his chest.

So familiar and yet sometime feels different, he knows. It takes him a moment to realise it's her hair, no longer long and falling around them, no longer brushing against his skin and tickling him.

She bites down on his lips as he thinks it, almost as if she can read his thoughts and want to distract him. Right. Not the time to think of what they've lost. Time to think of what he has back.

Her fingers dig into his shoulders as he moves his mouth to the spot on her neck he knows she likes him to kiss featherlight, then the scar on her shoulder that is beautiful because it is a part of her as well.

Her back arches as he moves to her breasts, covering one with his mouth and the other with a hand. She is grinding a little against him and he is hard, something she should be damn well able to tell but seems to want to make sure.

When she sneaks a hand between them to first cop a feel, then slip past his pajamas and underwear to stroke the length of him, he can just imagine the mischievous smile on her face. True enough, when he lifts his head to look at her, it's there, and so is a flush to her cheek.

Right. It suddenly feels like more than enough foreplay as their gazes lock and her expression turns serious. Lifting her up with one hand, he uses the other to yank her underwear off, before pressing her down into the mattress, kissing her as he presses two fingers against her and makes her buck.

He pulls his weight off her long enough to shed the pajamas bottom and underwear, pulling the comforter over them both as she pushes up on her elbows and meets him with a kiss.

"David," she exhales, lips parted as he tugs lightly at them, angling his body next to hers.

Snow, he thinks, a triumphant, possessive thought as he slides into her and her tongue slides against the side of his mouth. Her skin feels smooth against his palm as he traces and caresses it inch by inch, mapping it by feel as he's done so many times before; he could lose himself in the familiar feel of her.

He does know her so well, knows she likes to be touched like this with his thumb, knows the moans she makes when she's impatient and the gasps she makes just before she comes. Like now, pressing his forehead against hers as she makes a strangled attempt at his name; he swallows it with a kiss as her body shudders.

He holds still for a moment, but she bites down on his lower lip and clenches her muscles around him, urging him on, so he does until he's the one mouthing her name and she catching it.

Parallels, he thinks faintly. Mirrors. Always been good with those, Snow White and Prince Charming, sleeping curses and saving each other and all. And love, love perhaps most of all.

He shifts position as he catches his breath, letting her drape herself across him and tuck her head under his shoulder. She moves a leg between his and laces a hand in his, entangling them further.

"Not losing you again," she murmurs sleepily.

"Mmm," he agrees, kissing the top of her head. Can't really blame her. He has half a mind to ask Rumpelstilskin for some magical handcuffs and just cuff himself to her for eternity. Maybe get something for Emma and Henry as well, keeping his whole family close.

With that thought, he closes his eyes; it doesn't take long to fall back asleep.

II

He does have another nightmare just before morning, waking sharply to see Snow regarding him with teary eyes, then kissing him featherlight until he can't hear the roar of the flames and just his own heartbeats instead.

Even then he can't seem to stop kissing her, butterfly kisses, devouring kisses, soft kisses, lingering kisses as if linking lips as well as their hands; kissing, kissing, kissing until her tongue is pushing into his mouth, her hands are pushing against his and he is thrusting into her, almost leisurely this time.

He could do this every day for an eternity and still not get enough, he knows.

II

He falls asleep sometime before dawn again, no dreams this time that he can remember. He lets himself wake slowly this time, enjoying the sensation of slow awareness, of light beyond his eyelids, of warmth encasing him, of sounds beginning to filter through. He can hear low voices, one of them every now and then rising a little.

Henry, he thinks. And Emma, because judging by the weight and warmth by his side, Snow is still in bed with him.

Sure enough, when he opens his eyes he finds her watching him. She smiles as he does, her lips still upturned when he kisses her softly.

"Good morning," he says against her lips, sneaking in another kiss.

"Good morning," she agrees. "I think Henry is planning to make us all breakfast and Emma is probably planning to save the kitchen from disaster."

He chuckles and she laughs. It's not really that funny, but it feels good to have something to find funny at all.

"We should get dressed and join them," she suggests, and he nods, getting up and locating the clothes they discarded. First breakfast with their family all together. The thought is strangely painful and joyous all at once, but he pushes the pain away and focuses on the joy.

Henry is certainly expressing joy for all of them when they walk hand-in-hand into the kitchen a little while later, even Emma smiling at his exuberance. She gives a faint smile to him and Snow as well, faint but genuine.

"Gramps!" Henry calls. "Emma met a giant!"

"Did she?" he asks, and Emma makes an exaggerated 'busted' face that makes Snow smile.

"She told me about last night, when I..."

"Woke up from another nightmare," he fills in when Henry trails off, and the boy nods a little guiltily. Must have been in-between either of his, he can't remember seeing Henry in either.

"Henry," Snow breaks in, walking over, but looking at Emma as much as him. "They will pass in time."

"They will," he agrees, walking over as well and putting a hand on Henry's shoulder and taking Snow's hand in the other. "The important thing is that we're together now."

"Yeah," Emma agrees a little thickly, accepting Snow's outstretched hand after a moment's hesitation and placing her other on Henry's shoulder on top of his hand.

Oh, he thinks, because it's the most coherent he can manage as he stands in a sunny kitchen in the morning, about to have breakfast with his whole family for the first time. His wife, his daughter and his grandson. Oh.

Home. He's never needed much for it. Just family, and here they all are. It makes a sleeping curse more than worth it.

Nightmares are just sleep, after all. He can always wake, and Snow will always be there, as he was with her. And life, life has all he's ever dreamed of.

"Let's have breakfast," he says; and so they do, for the very first time.

FIN