Swan Chick

A Gold Standard fic

Featuring

SwanFire & Baby Regal/Gold

1

Countdown

Fire Mountain dojo

Storybrooke, Maine:

"Class dismissed!" Bae called out to his current crop of karate students, and then bowed to them. They all bowed back and called, "Hai, sensei!" before scattering off the mats and into their locker rooms to get their shoes and other paraphernalia before going home.

"Sensei?"

Bae turned to see Grace standing behind him. "Yeah, Gracie? What's up?"

"Umm . . .I was just wondering, isn't Emma gonna deliver soon? It seems like it's been forever," Alice's daughter declared.

"Yeah, she's real close. Like a week," Bae nodded. Both Snow and Belle had said that Emma could go anytime now. Bae found that thought both exciting and alarming. Exciting because he really couldn't wait to see his second child get born, and alarming because he thought it made Emma sound like a ticking time bomb about to explode.

Although, the sheriff had said she felt as if she were gonna explode a few days ago.

Grace smiled. "Mama says don't forget to call when you're at the hospital, okay?"

"I won't," her teacher promised. "See you later!"

Grace waved as she ran out the door of the dojo and into Alice's waiting blue Toyota.

Bae turned to Ashley, who was his receptionist, and said, "Let's call it a day, Ash. I'm gonna lock up and then go see where Emma is."

After Ashley had gathered her purse and paperback, Bae locked the doors of his dojo and then went upstairs to the apartment to see if Emma had gotten home yet from the store. This close to her due date, he didn't like her going out alone, but Belle had promised to go with her, and Emma was usually good about texting him if she was going to be late.

"Hon, I'm home!" he called cheerfully as he entered the apartment.

He could hear the TV from the den, playing the familiar Highlander theme song "Princes of the Universe". That was Henry's current obsession and he was currently watching season two of the show on DVD.

"Hey, tiger," Bae greeted his son, who was sitting on the sofa, a bowl of cinnamon sugar popcorn in his lap. "Where's your mom?"

Henry paused the DVD, finished the mouthful of popcorn and took a swig of Mountain Dew before he replied, "Mom's not home yet. She texted me and said to tell you she had to go over to the station to help with a consult."

"Say what?" his father sputtered in disbelief. "She's on maternity leave, for Chrissake! She's not available for consults!"

Henry shrugged. "Chill, Dad. I'm just telling you what she said." He held up his phone. "See?"

Bae groaned and said, "I don't believe this." Then he pulled his Fire Mountain gray hoodie back on and said, "Be right back. I'm gonna see what this big emergency is. I didn't hear any sirens, did you?"

"Nope. But I was watching MacLeod kick some idiot's butt," his son reminded him, tapping his remote against his knee.

"Right. Okay, be back soon." Bae shot out the door like he was on fire. He was going to have some words with the acting sheriff, Robin Locksley about calling his pregnant wife down to the station for anything short of a nuclear airstrike against the town.

Bae pulled into the station and parked his Escape next to Emma's familiar yellow Bug. He thought that she was lucky she could still drive considering, then he scowled when he realized she shouldn't be driving in her condition. But Emma was as stubborn as rocks, and she was sure that once she had gotten the call from Robin had insisted she drive to the station herself. And Belle wouldn't have wanted to argue with her and risk sending her into early labor, not to mention that Belle probably had the twins today, since Rumple was awaiting a shipment of antiques at his shop from Scotland with some fine seventeenth century pieces from the Highlands.

He jumped out, noting with some irritation that Robin's patrol car wasn't there. Which meant Emma was at the station alone. "If he's left my pregnant wife alone while he went back out on call, he's gonna learn a new definition of the word "merry" when I merrily kick his ass!" he grumbled to himself.

He yanked open the door and called, "Hey, wild swan, you there?"

"Back here, Bae," Emma replied.

Bae headed back towards the office, appearing in the doorway a moment later. "Em, what are you doing over here?" he asked, leaning against the doorjamb for a moment.

"Robin called and wanted me to look at these wanted posters from Boston and see if I agreed about the match with the hood who's been running around robbing stores and assaulting women. We think it might be the thug called the Boston Brahmin." Emma said, waving her hand over the two mug shots and photos taken in Storybrooke of the thief running off with someone's purse. The gentleman in question was called that because he dressed like someone out of GQ and seemed harmless . . .until he snatched your wallet or held up the register. Her bulging belly touched the top of the desk as she sat in the swivel chair. Too large now to wear her customary red leather jacket, she was now wearing a red cotton maternity top that her mother-in-law had gotten her with the words "Baby on Board" on it. She had on soft gray stretch pants and Bae's Converse, because her feet were too swollen now to fit into her own size shoes.

"Em, I don't care if he's got a lead on the Boston Strangler, you're supposed to be unavailable right now," Bae stated. "You're a week from your due date."

"I know, Gold. Relax, I'm fine."

"Yeah well what if you'd gone into labor here?" he demanded. "Without anyone around?"

"I have my cell phone. I'd have called you."

Bae snorted. "Is your phone charged?"

Emma went to pick it up. "Umm . . .I think so . . ." she frowned as she saw the empty box blinking. "Umm . . ."

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

She glared at him. "Rub it in, why don't you, Gold?"

"How could you go out without your phone charged?" Bae said exasperatedly.

"I thought I charged it last night," she said defensively. "I can't help it if I forget. I've got a lot on my mind."

Her husband groaned. "Yeah and you ought to be home and not here identifying perps. That's the acting sheriff's and deputies job now."

"It was just a few minutes, Bae. You act like I was on a stakeout," Emma protested.

"Yeah and where's Locksley?"

"He got another call and went to investigate. He was going to be back in a few."

"Uh huh. And where's everyone else?"

"Lunch break."

"Humph!" he snorted.

"Speaking of, I could go for something," Emma said, just as her tummy rumbled in agreement. She patted her stomach. "See, the kid agrees with me." Then she grunted and muttered, "And now she's doing cartwheels on my bladder. Oof!"

She levered herself to a standing position.

"Where are you going?"

"Bathroom. My bladder's like the size of a peanut."

She waddled towards the restroom, one hand on her lower back.

Behind her, Bae swore.

He could cheerfully roundhouse kick Locksley into next week. "Papa's right. Never ask an idiot to do a job that requires thinking." He bent over the desk and eyed the two photos and the mug shot.

He compared the two silently.

Then he heard the toilet flush and soon Emma waddled back to the desk.

"Now I know what a bowling ball feels like," she joked.

"If I see Robin anytime soon, he's gonna know what a practice dummy feels like," Bae said heatedly. "Leave him a note that these pics are possible matches and let's go home."

"Hon, I can't just leave the station unattended!"

"Emma, you're coming home now, before you go into labor and have this baby right here," Bae ordered. "You're not on duty anymore, he is! Let him solve his own damn case, that's what he's getting paid for."

"Gold, you're being an idiot. I'm not even having Braxton-Hicks right now."

"Yeah and you don't want to be getting them driving home either," he pointed out. "Come on, wild swan. Let's go home, eat lunch, and veg out on the couch."

"Bae, you're being a worrywart. Worse than Rumple was when Belle was pregnant!"

"Maybe we wouldn't be if our wives weren't contrary and stubborn as rocks," he retorted. "Now c'mon, Em. Don't make me pick you up over my shoulder."

She gaped at him. "You smoking something, Baelfire? Carry me? You'll throw your back out before you get five feet! In case you haven't noticed, I'm the size of a house!"

"So? I can pick you up," he argued.

"Only if you want to end up in the hospital too with a hernia," Emma pointed out. She patted her belly. "Right kid? Tell your daddy he's being nuts."

"Tell your mom she's being impossible and you don't want to be born in a patrol car," Bae snorted. Then he went to clasp his wife in his arms. "Emma, dammit!"

"Bae! Don't you dare!" she snapped. Her blue eyes blazed skyfire at him. "I swear, all you Stiltskin men are insane when your wives are carrying. Crazy like a fox!"

He embraced her, putting his chin on the top of her head. "I'm serious, wild swan. You've got til the count of three before I go all Fred Flintstone on you," he threatened with a goofy grin.

"You do and I'll go all Wilma on your ass, Gold, and hit you over the head with a brontosaurus bone!" she waggled a finger.

"Yeah? Where you gonna get that? Jurassic Park?"

"Ha ha. I'll conjure one just for you, Mr. Neanderthal."

"You can't. You're not allowed to use magic. Papa said so."

This close to her due date, a pregnant mage couldn't use magic, or risk putting her body under too much stress and triggering labor pains.

Emma pouted. "Yoda's not the boss of me."

"If you come home with me now, I'll make you grilled cheese for lunch," Bae wheedled, smiling at her.

"Umm . . . but . . ."

"With fresh tomato and crispy bacon," he persuaded.

"I promised . . ." she was wavering.

He went in for the kill. "With Irish butter and zesty fries."

"Where's his damn sticky notes?" she muttered, the fries putting her over the edge.

Five minutes later she had locked the door to the station and waddled out to her car, with her husband's arm around her, while Bae sang, "Flintstones, meet the Flintstones . . ." in her ear.

As he opened the door to the Bug for her, Emma turned to him and heaved a sigh.

"What is it?" he cried nervously. "Are you having contractions?"

"Don't quit your day job, hon," she smirked. "And the only pangs I'm having are hunger pangs."

"Real funny, Emma," he muttered, then he helped her put on her seatbelt. By the time this baby was born, he was going to have gray hairs just like his papa.

He watched as she pulled out of the parking lot, then followed her slowly home.

Page~*~*~*~Break

A few hours later:

Emma relaxed with her feet up on the recliner, a fuzzy plaid afghan thrown over her lap, her stomach still pleasantly full from Bae's grilled cheese with bacon and tomato along with zesty fries and some chocolate pudding. She was nearly dozing off, the baby also sleeping, since she didn't feel any movement right then.

Next to her, Bae was sprawled casually on the sofa with his feet up, propping a familiar book upon his jean clad knees as he read intently, his head on a throw pillow. Henry was on the other end of the sectional, engrossed in the second season of Highlander. Emma opened one eye lazily to look at her menfolk, one hand resting lightly on her belly.

The book Bae was reading was one he had already read before, borrowed from Rumple. It was called She's Having a Baby and I'm Having a Breakdown—a book for expectant fathers. Rumple had read it cover to cover, and it had been in almost pristine condition when he had given it to his son. It now looked like it had been the victim of an inquisitive toddler, its spine cracked, pages dogeared, cover creased from being left open too many times, and a splotch of what she thought might have been grape jelly on the side. "How many times have you read that, Bae? Five?"

"Seven," he replied absently, thumbing through it.

"I think he's memorized it, Mom," Henry put in.

"Almost," Bae muttered. He paused to reread a paragraph.

"Wouldn't surprise me," Emma laughed. "But maybe you'd better think about keeping this copy and buying your dad a new one, considering what it looks like," she gestured to it.

Bae grimaced. "Maybe I should. Where'd she buy it?"

"New York."

"Great," he ran a hand through his hair. "I'm sure I can get it at ." He flipped to another page.

"I don't think it looks that bad, Dad," Henry put in.

Bae peered at his son over the top of the book. "Tiger, have you met your grandma? Belle would slam me with a whopping fine for damaging her books if she saw this!"

"But Dad, it's not a library book."

"Doesn't matter. It's her book," Bae snickered. "Besides, if my mama didn't fine me, your grandpa would resurrect his cane and beat me with it for damaging a book like this."

"Beware the Cane of Doom!" giggled Emma and Bae shot her a Look.

He turned another page, then said abruptly, "Henry, let's go over the checklist again."

His son groaned. "But Da-a-ad! We did that last night, and the night before that. Besides, this is a good episode."

"Humor him, tiger. You can pause the DVD." Emma said.

"Okay!" her son huffed. He glanced at his father, who now held a clipboard and a pen in his hand.

In the beginning, the list had only five or six items on it. Since then it had grown. A lot.

Henry clicked pause and then got up. "Okay, Dad. Here we go again." He was sure by the time his mom went into labor he was going to have memorized the list of expectant mom items so well that he'd never forget it and be the only male sixth grader to know exactly what you needed to take to the hospital when your wife gave birth and he didn't even have a girlfriend!

"Car." Bae read, starting with the vehicle. "Gas."

"Check."

"Tires full."

"Check."

"Carseat."

"Check." They had put that in the car a week ago.

"Okay. Now we'll go to the hospital bag," Bae said, and they walked into his bedroom, where Emma had an extra large duffle bag ready. "Hand lotion."

"Check."

"Lip balm. Shampoo. Conditioner. Body wash."

"Check."

"Secret. Hair clips."

"Check. Check." Henry called as he held up each item.

"ID card. Tums."

"Check."

"Two nightshirts. Socks. T-shirt and sweatpants. Underclothes. Brush. Toothbrush and toothpaste."

"Check."

"Baby layette. Receiving blankets. Bottles. Wipes."

"Check."

"Tylenol. Always."

"Check."

"Don't forget my slippers and robe," Emma called. "Ashley says those hospital floors are like ice."

"Got it, hon. Mother Goose slippers," Bae called to Henry.

"Check." Henry held up the slippers, which were pink and white geese's heads with a blue kerchief over the goose heads. Bae had bought them for her at the baby shower.

"Quilted robe."

"Check."

"IPod. Hard candy. Cheezits. Oreos. Travel pillow with lavender case."

"Check."

"Camera. Cellphone. Charger."

"Check."

"Blankets. Diapers. Towels. Face moisturizer. Flip flops."

"Got 'em."

"Outlander novel."

"Check."

"My clothes."

"Check."

"An extra bag for whatever else we can't fit in this one."

"Check."

"That's all, tiger."

"Um, not everything, Dad. You forgot the kitchen sink," his son joked.

Bae rolled his eyes. "You're a riot."

"Henry, did you pack the tazer?" Emma called, giggling. "Because I'll need one to poke your dad if he passes out during the delivery."

"I am not passing out!" Bae snapped.

"Famous last words," his wife yodeled.

"Did you forget, I've done this before," he reminded her. "If I didn't pass out then, with Mama's twins, I sure as hell won't now with my own."

"Like I said, babe, famous last words," she smirked at him from the recliner.

Henry cracked up. "Oh my God! That would be hilarious!"

"Aww, hush up, tiger!" Bae ordered. "Show some respect."

"Okay, Dad. Mom, where's the cattle prod?" Then he ducked Bae's swat to the back of his head.

Page~*~*~*~Break

The next morning:

Emma's cell buzzed and she rolled over in bed, which was practically the only thing she could do anymore in it, and went to pick it up off the nightstand before it woke Bae. She had just gotten up to use the bathroom—for the tenth time that night—or whatever time it was this morning—her phone said 8:15—and had been trying to recapture the lovely dream she'd been having when she was so rudely disturbed.

The caller ID flashed with her dad's name on it and she thought, oh shit, what's happened with Mom? Because Snow was pregnant too. She hit the answer button. "Hello?" she said muzzily. "Dad?"

"No, silly, it's me!" a high little voice squealed on the other end of the line. "Regina!"

Emma moaned. "Kid, what are you doing with Dad's phone again?"

"I needed to call an' ask you sumpin'," she replied innocently, ignoring the question like she always did when she knew she had done something forbidden, as if she hoped you'd forget it. "You havin' the baby yet? Is it born now?"

"Regina, it's eight in the morning!" her sister yawned. "And no, not yet." This was a familiar litany. Regina called and asked her if the baby was born at least once a day now that she was thirty-nine weeks and counting.

"But Emma-a!" the child whined, drawing out the syllables of her name. "You said it was gonna be borned soon! I wanna see the swan chick."

That was her name for the baby. Actually, Bae had coined it, and now Regina used it exclusively to describe her new niece or nephew.

"Swan chick's still incubating," Emma muttered sleepily, then grunted as Bae's hand hit her in the back. "Dammit, Bae! Quit poking me, got enough of that with the kid doing somersaults on my bladder." She poked her husband.

"Mmmhmmm?" Bae muttered unintelligibly.

"Oohh, you said a bad word!" Regina commented in her best I'm-telling voice. "Dad's gonna wash out you mouth."

"Dad isn't here, so mind your beeswax, imp!" Emma returned.

"What's in-cuu-ba-shun mean?" Regina asked then, sounding the unfamiliar word out like Snow had taught her.

"Umm . . ." Emma yawned again, her brain still fuzzy and not up to defining words that early. "Means the kid's cooking a bit longer for she comes out." For some reason Emma almost always referred to the baby as "she".

"I want her to come out now!" Regina declared in her Royal Brat voice.

"Yeah well, the swan chick has other ideas," Emma chuckled. "Right now she's staying put."

"Awww!"

Emma could practically see Regina pouting on the other end of the phone. "Where's Mom and Dad? They up yet?"

"Mom's in the shower an' Dad's snoring."

"Figures. Okay, I gotta go and take one myself, so I'll talk to you later, okay? And better put the phone back where you found it, or else you're gonna be in time out," Emma warned.

"'Kay, Emma! Give the swan chick a kiss from me," Regina blew a kiss into the phone before hanging up.

Emma put her phone down and did so, patting her tummy, which was round and tight like a drum. She lay there, trying to fall back to sleep again, but then the baby kicked her and she grunted. "Kid, why are you awake this early? Go and get forty winks."

She closed her eyes and tried to demonstrate.

The baby kicked again, harder, and Emma winced. "Kid, what are you doing in there, practicing for a karate tournament?"

Her stomach bulged suddenly as the foot thrust against her womb.

"Ohh!"

"Em? Whass the matter? You having pains?" Bae shot up from the bed like he'd been electrocuted, his hair standing on end.

His wife shook her head. "No. But the kid's practicing her roundhouse."

"What?" He leaned over to see.

Again the foot wriggled and poked.

Bae's eyes widened and he put a hand over her tummy. "Whoa! Looks like he's gonna be a chip off the old block, huh?"

"She. Girls can do karate too."

"I know," Bae answered, smirking. "I teach 'em."

The foot retreated and Emma's stomach returned to its current round shape.

"Regina called. Wanted to know if the swan chick was born yet."

Bae rolled his eyes. "My God, how come she's not asking your mom all these questions?"

"She does . . .and drives her and Dad crazy too. But then she remembers I'm having mine first and she calls me," Emma sighed.

"Well at least she didn't call at 4 AM," Bae chuckled, recalling an incident before Easter when Regina had called Rumple and woken him and the entire household up because she was bored and her parents were sleeping.

"I'd have reached through the phone and strangled her," Emma snorted. "But I think your dad pretty much nipped that in the bud."

"Yeah, he's good at making kids mind him," Bae answered, thinking back to his own childhood. He just hoped he'd be the same with this kid, though he was pretty good with Henry, it wasn't the same as raising a kid from a baby. He was going to need a few more parenting books. And to talk to his papa. Maybe I ought to set up sessions, he thought wryly. Or Papa can have a class. What Every Father Needs to Know About Childcare. The Gold Method. He could just picture Rumple's face if he told him that.

Emma stirred beside him. "Well, long as I'm awake now, might as well hop in the shower." She sat up slowly and stood, a process rather like rolling a hip from dry land into the water. "Or waddle like a duck," she remarked, and slid her feet into flip flops.

"Quack quack," Bae hooted.

"Funny, Bae."

"What? It's the Mighty Ducks fight theme," he objected. "Don't be so testy, hon."

"Testy? Obi Wan, you think this is testy, wait till I'm actually in labor," she retorted.

He put his hands together. "May the Force be with me."

She threw a pillow at his head. "Smartass!"

He gave her a guilty grin. "That's one thing my papa couldn't beat out of me."

"Like he tried," Emma coughed. "He's the original smartass."

Bae shrugged. "He did, just not very hard."

"Like father like son. I just hope this baby takes after me."

"Oh God! Then we're dead!"

"What? What's that supposed to mean?" she cried.

"Nothing, honey," he said in a totally banal tone.

"Don't you tell me nothing, Gold!" she stomped back over to the bed and shook her finger in his face. "You tell me what the hell you meant with tha comment or else."

"Just . . . if the baby takes after you . . . we'll have Superman on our hands," Bae replied. "And Superman with an attitude to boot."

"So? She'll be sassy and able to kick a guy's ass six ways to Sunday. Nothing wrong with that."

"No but . . .we might have to get a new house after she burns it down." He joked.

Emma paled, recalling the last time the dojo had caught on fire—because of Henry trying to make Christmas lights work by magic. "Don't even go there, Bae!" A magical toddler, she thought in alarm. How the hell would they survive? "Never mind. I'm going to take a shower."

"'Kay, sweetheart," her husband called. He thought about getting out of bed and maybe putting on a pot of coffee. Then he looked at his pillow. On second thought, the pillow looked more inviting.

Ten seconds later he was drifting through dreamland again.

Only to be awakened by a loud thud and the sound of his wife swearing.

That brought him awake instantly and out of bed in two seconds, adrenaline flooding his veins like he was facing an opponent in the arena. "Em? What happened? You fall?"

He was at the bathroom door in another second, and inside like a shot.

The steam from the shower curled around the mirror and fogged it, and he could see his wife inside, her unwieldy bulk a large shadow against the glass door.

"Emma? You okay?" he called, praying that she wasn't having contractions in the shower, of all places.

"Bae?"

"What's wrong?"

"I . . .dropped the back brush, and I can't see to get it because my eyes are shut, my hair's full of soap, and I can't bend over."

He breathed a sigh of relief. Not yet. Not yet. Stay there, baby. "Hang on, I'll get it."

He opened the door and a blast of steamy heat struck him, with the scent of cucumbers and melons wafting through the air. Emma was crouched down, trying to rinse the shampoo from her hair and the brush was lying at her feet in a puddle of soapsuds.

Bae knelt and picked it up. He was about to hand it to her when he saw how she was standing. "You look like you're stiff, wild swan. You sleep wrong again on your neck?"

"Yeah, but that's because I'm the size of a bowling ball and how the hell can I sleep right like this?" she fretted. She tossed her head sending suds all over. "Sorry I scared you. Just gimme the brush."

"I wasn't scared. Just a little . . .concerned," he objected.

"Yeah, right. Never lie to the human lie detector, Baelfire," his wife sniffed. "My brush please. I need it to reach places I used to be able to touch."

"I've got a better idea, darling," he crooned.

"A better idea? Like a forklift?"

"Nope. An extra pair of hands," he answered, and started pulling his T-shirt off.

"Gold, what are you doing?" she asked, her eyes still closed, as she tried to make sure all the shampoo was gone.

"You'll see, dearie," he crooned, imitating his father. He tossed his shirt and boxers into a pile and stepped into the shower with her. "Now . . .tell me where you can't reach."

"Everything below my waist," she answered, then she opened her eyes as he began to gently wash her lower back. "Bae! What in the . . .what are you doing in the shower with me?"

"Playing home health aide."

Her eyebrows climbed into her hair. "Bae, if a home health aide looked like you, those old ladies would never get better!"

"What? Why?" he asked, as he washed the back of her leg.

"Because they'd fake being sick so you could take care of them. Oooh . . . that feels so good!"

She wriggled a bit against him, as his hands massaged all the knots from her lower back.

Bae sucked in a breath. "Ahh . . .Emma . . .can you not wriggle like that so much?"

"Hmm? Oh, sorry, am I throwing you off your rhythm or whatever you call it?"

Bae coughed, because it wasn't his rhythm of massaging that was being thrown off when she moved like that against him, but something far more noticeable. He breathed in and out sharply two times. Go back to sleep! It's not time for you to wake up! He concentrated hard on working out the tension in his wife's back. "How's that? Better?"

"Heavenly. You ever get sick of teaching kids and women how to dismember people you've got a future as a masseuse. A really good one too!" She moaned again and shifted, her bottom rubbing against his thigh.

"That's . . .nice . . . hon. I'll keep it in mind."

It was a good thing they were in the shower, he thought as the water trickled over him. But he wished it were cold.

"Can you . . .umm . . .do my neck?" she asked.

"Sure I can," he said, and glided his hands up her back to her shoulders, where he began kneading and rubbing again.

"Oooh, yes . . .right there!" she hissed. "Oh my God!"

Yeah. Oh my God is right. He thought, and continued, his hands finding all the tense spots and slowly rubbing them away.

Emma felt herself starting to go limp like a sponge, her body soaking in the heat and her bones melting to water. "I love you, Bae. You make me feel . . . like a princess even when I'm a two ton baby beluga."

His hands suddenly stopped their rubbing and he pulled her had against him. "That's because you are my princess, wild swan. And the mother of my children. And you are beautiful to me . . . no matter what."

She tilted her head back so she could see him. "You really mean that, don't you? I feel like a house."

He began to kiss her, his lips nibbling delicately on her ear, then moving lower, his hands gently stroking and touching.

She felt herself quiver with desire, vibrating like a harp whose strings hand been plucked by a master bard.

He continued his seduction, until at last he lifted his head and murmured, "That answer your question?"

She laughed huskily. "Yup. What do you call that?"

"Part one of 50 Shades of Bae," he quipped, giggling.

"What's the next part?"

He sighed. "Something we're gonna have to wait for until this kid is born."

"Oh, damn!"

Then she turned around and kissed him hard. "But in the meantime . . .let's not waste the water." She took the scrubby from him and began to wash his chest, kissing him afterwards.

"See? You are perfect just as you are . . .Mom." He cupped her belly. "Right, pardner?"

The baby stuck out a fist in answer.

"High five! Smart kid. Takes after both of us."

"Got that right. Now shut up and kiss me, Gold," Emma teased. "Before we run out of hot water."

Privately, Bae didn't think that was such a bad idea. Then he kissed her back.

Things began to progress from there, since neither one of them wanted to let it go, until Henry banged on the door and called, "Hey, guys! Grandma called and wants you to meet them at Granny's for breakfast!"

"Okay, we'll be out in a minute." Emma called. Then she looked at her husband. "Oh my God! Did I just say that? He'll be scarred for life."

Bae laughed. "I doubt it, wild swan. Or have you forgotten that the Evil Queen and the Huntsman used to be lovers?"

Emma gulped. She had forgotten, or not precisely forgotten but put it to the back of her mind, considering Regina was no longer the Evil Queen, but her three-and-a-half year old adopted sister. And once, a lifetime ago, she had thought Graham a cute catch, but though she mourned him, he was nothing compared to her martial arts instructor. Because no man could ever compare to her Baelfire. He was one of a kind.

"Yeah well let's attempt to behave, Bae. Or else Rumple will come over here and beat us both," she smirked.

"Only if you tell," he purred.

"M' not talking," she muttered, then gave him one last kiss before she grabbed a towel . . . and flicked his sexy backside with it.