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“Up! Up! Mama! Dada! Up!”
Still half asleep, Killian Jones smiled as he heard his daughter yell through the baby monitor. He cracked open one eye and turned over in bed until he could see the small, digital screen that showed video of Hope’s room. He saw Hope standing in her crib, little hands grasping the wooden rail, staring directly into the camera that linked to the tablet. She was an observant little child and recently had worked out that she could get her parent’s attention by yelling at the camera.
He felt Emma curl herself up against his back. “What time is it?” she murmured against his shoulder.
Killian squinted at the clock. “7:15 am. She let us sleep in.”
He heard Emma groan all the same. She wasn’t a morning person.
“I’ll get up with her,” he said as he started to remove himself from her embrace. But her arms around him only tightened.
“No, it’s my turn.” She pushed away from his back and when she threw the blankets off, he felt a cold breeze against across his skin. He shivered and reminded himself to check the houses heating system. It may be winter, but there was no need for the house to be as cold as the Jolly Roger while at sea.
Emma pulled a pair of lounge pants and a large Storybrooke Pet Shelter t-shirt on over her underwear. “You got up with her the other night when she had that nightmare.”
Killian grasped his wife’s hand as she headed toward the bedroom door. “Regardless, love. If you want to stay abed a bit longer, I am happy to entertain our little early bird so you can rest.”
That earned him a smile. “I’m already up. Try and get some more sleep; we have a busy day ahead.” Emma gave him a quick kiss as she turned off the baby monitor and headed out.
Killian groaned and dramatically pulled the blanket up and over his head. He could hear Emma’s laugh as she made her way down to Hope’s room.
A busy day…
That was a bit of an understatement.
It was Christmas, one of this realm’s winter holidays.
It was a day filled with family, friends, many odd traditions, and copious amounts of food and drink. He quite enjoyed the holiday, personally, especially the food and drink.
But last year had been a bit of a disaster.
Emma, Henry, 1 year-old Hope, and himself had all gone over to Mary-Margaret and David’s house for an early Christmas brunch and to exchange gifts. Afterwards, they’d all gone into town and had a small lunch at Granny’s. They then continued onto Regina’s house, where the combined “royal family of Storybrooke” hosted a large Christmas party that the people of the town flitted in and out of the rest of the day.
Normally, this would have been a long, if tiring, day. But any event was made more complicated when there was a toddler involved.
The excitement of the day had made getting Hope down for her afternoon nap nearly impossible. It had taken over an hour to get her to sleep and she refused to stay asleep unless she was in either his or Emma’s arms. Even then, she only slept half the normal amount of time she usually did.
Which resulted in everyone having to deal with a very cranky toddler for the remainder of the holiday. Tempers frayed, words were exchanged, and Killian had had to pull Emma out of the house and into the cold before she roasted the Christmas ham without the aid of an oven.
In the weeks leading up to this year’s event, he and Emma had made the decision to spend the morning at home and join the rest of their family after Hope’s nap. Mary Margaret had been disappointed and tried to convince them otherwise. David, however, had understood and had been instrumental in getting his wife to let them make their own decisions.
“Dada! Up! Dada get up!” Hope’s voice drifted down the hall, pulling him from his musing.
He heard Emma shushed her gently, “No duckling, let Dada sleep.”
“No… Dada up!”
The sound of Hope running down the hall told Killian that his time in bed was about to end. But he decided to have some fun before his daughter dragged him out of it. He settled himself down and pretended to be asleep.
“Dada!” He heard Hope yell as she ran into the room. The bed shook as her tiny body barreled into the side of it. There was a soft tug on the blanket as she said, “Get up Dada! Get up!”
Killian let out an exaggerated snore in response. Her small, soft hands patted at his face. Before she could move, Killian quickly wrapped his arm around her and pulled her onto the bed. Hope shrieked in laughter.
“Don’t you know better than to wake a sleeping pirate?” He asked as he snuggled her close. She smelled like baby powder and the soft lavender scent of the baby-specific detergent they used for her clothes only.
Hope babbled something too fast for him to understand completely, but he did make out the words “strawberries”, “pancakes”, and “newt”, the last being his daughter’s current word for milk, so he figured she was talking about what she wanted to breakfast.
“I don’t know love, I’m very comfortable right here. Why don’t you and Mama bring me breakfast in bed?” He winked at Emma as he said this and received a roll of the eyes in response.
“No Dada. Up!” Hope continued to insist. She squirmed from his arms and out of bed. Once on the ground again, she grasped his hand and pulled. At the sight of her determination, Killian relented.
“Alright, alright, you win. I’m getting up,” he said as he moved the blankets aside. He swung his legs over the side and sat on the edge of the bed. This seemed to satisfy Hope, who released his hand. Killian ruffled her dark hair before stretching his arms above his head, hearing a few joints pop in the process. His 200 years were finally catching up to him.
As he brought his arms down, he noticed that Hope had a look on her face that he hadn’t seen before. No, that was wrong. He saw the same speculative look on Emma’s face every time she was presented with a new situation.
He started to ask her what was wrong, but stopped when Hope slowly reached out and placed her hands on the blunted end of his left arm. Her small fingers explored the scared skin, in much the same way Emma had the first time she had seen it.
“Hooky.”
Killian blinked, unsure at first if he heard Hope correctly.
“Hooky,” she repeated.
He looked up at Emma, whose face now wore an identical expression to Hope.
“I think she is wondering where your hook is,” Emma cautiously suggested.
Killian frowned. He knew Hope had seen him without his hook many times. He wore the fake hand nearly as often as he wore the hook nowadays, especially when at home.
Hope poked at the end of his stump.
“Hooky.” Her small voice was starting to take on a slightly hysterical edge, which both he and Emma knew meant that a meltdown was on its way.
Without taking his eyes off of Hope, Killian stretched his arm out and pulled his brace from the drawer of his nightstand. He places it on his lap, careful to position the point of the hook away from his daughter. It’s duller now than it used to be, but it was still a weapon.
Hope’s attention shifted and she placed one hand on the leather of the brace. Her voice was soft as she almost whispers, “Hooky.”
Killian nodded as he said, “Yes duckling, this is how Dada wears his hook.”
Hope moved his arm closer to the brace. Figuring out what she wants, Killian guided it onto his arm. The straps of the harness that secure it hang loose, but Hope appeared much happier as soon as the brace and hook are on his arm.
“Dada Hook,” she yelled, triumphant.
Killian wraps both his arms around his daughter and pulls her close.
“Yes duckling. Dada Hook,” he whispers against her hair. He feels Emma’s arms encircle both of them. They stay that way for a moment, before Hope begins to wriggle.
“Henry up!” She says before running out of the room, presumably to go wake up Henry.
Without prompting, Emma positions and fastens the straps of the harness along his arm and shoulders. This simple act help sooth some of the insecure feelings that had settled in his gut. Once finished, she placed a kiss on the back of his neck and said, “Come on, Dada Hook. It’s time to have Christmas breakfast with your family.”