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To build a home

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“So,” Regina begins, after a few moments of silence. “We are friends. Sort of. Right?”

Emma raises her eyebrows, distractedly playing with her glass. “I’d say so, yeah,” she replies, carefully.

“So if I were to tell you something, and ask for your—your advice—” she trials off, under Emma’s evermore concerned gaze.

“I’d try to help,” she replies, frowning. “I’m no role model, but— what’s going on? Is something wrong?”

“I may have messed up a little,” Regina admits, her stomach twisting up at the mere thought of the massive disaster that she has created. She still has no idea how she ended up here, they’ve been careful— at least, she has, that idiot that she has been sleeping with lately just does what he feels like doing without much thought for the consequences. He probably thinks it’s not his problem, the bastard.

“Meaning?” Emma prompts.

Regina sighs. “I’m fairly sure I’m pregnant,” she confesses, as neutrally as possible.

Emma’s jaw literally drops, with no regard for composure. “You— what?”

“That or I don’t know how to use magic anymore,” she concedes, mostly to avoid falling into an awkward silence and thinking about what she just confessed. Telling it to someone else makes it feel much more real and heavier.

“What— how?” Emma continues, her eyes wide as she leans towards her.

Regina’s eyebrows shoot up. “How? Seriously?”

At that, Emma makes a clear effort to regain some composure: she straightens on her seat and clears her throat, her eyes darting around for a few seconds.

“I meant,” she clarifies. “I didn’t know you were seeing anybody.”

“That’s because I’m not,” Regina scoffs. “We are just having a lot of sex with no strings attached. Except now—”

“There’s quite the string,” Emma completes, sympathetically. A pause. “Okay, I’m dying to know, who’s the father?”

That’s probably the part of the conversation Regina was dreading the most. “The father—” she begins, with a scoff that says a lot about what she thinks about giving such a title to someone like him. “—is Hook.”

Emma stares. And stares, and stares, and stares. Regina is honestly one step away from slapping her just to get a reaction.

“You’re joking,” Emma finally states, blankly.

“I wish,” Regina comments, miserably, emptying what’s left in her glass – she wishes she could drink alcohol without feeling guilty, she’d definitely need it.

“Oh my god,” Emma snorts, before erupting in a full-blown laugh, smashed against the counter with her face hidden in her arms. “Oh god, I can’t—” she breathes, turning around to glance at Regina. “You got knocked up by Hook—”

“That’s very helpful, Miss Swan,” Regina comments, drily. There probably are too many people in there to throw a fireball at her without any casualties. Henry wouldn’t be happy.

Well, Henry probably wouldn’t be happy with her even if she managed to kill just Emma, but she’s very tempted all the same right now.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, don’t Miss Swan me,” Emma quickly sobers up, a slight grin still on her face. “Sorry, I just— I definitely wasn’t expecting that.”

“Me neither,” Regina scoffs.

“So— does he know?”

No,” she immediately answers. “I haven’t even decided if I want to tell him. Or if I should.”

“I guess you should, if you want to keep it?” Emma suggests, shrugging. “I mean, he’s the dad—”

“That moron can barely look after himself,” she points out. “How do you expect him to be a father— he probably wouldn’t even want to.”

“You should still ask,” Emma comments. She eyes her glass before grabbing it and emptying it all in one go. “I mean, I agree with you, he’s— probably not the best candidate for fatherhood, but this—this kinda still happened. So.”

Regina snorts.

“And if we are being technical,” Emma adds. “You are the Evil Queen. Not the best candidate for motherhood either.”

“I’ll remind you that I raised—”

“That’s my point,” she interrupts, briefly gesturing at her. “Eventually you figured it out anyway. So maybe he deserves a chance too?”

“I suppose,” Regina concedes, after a few moments, a displeased grimace on her face. The mere thought of a small pirate with no manners and all that attitude running around her house—

“The child of the Evil Queen and Captain Hook,” Emma comments, shaking her head with a disbelieving grin as she fills her glass. “It’s going to be a real piece of work.”




“Hello,” Hook chants, leaning against the doorframe with that ever-present irritating grin plastered on his face. “Wasn’t the lad supposed to be home today?” he asks, stepping in at Regina’s silent gesture.

She keeps looking at him, and really, he’s attractive, he’s a very good laid, but she’s regretting it so, so much right now. Pity that time travel hasn’t been invented yet, or she’d go back to slap herself in the face.

“Emma and Neal agreed to spend the afternoon with him,” Regina explains.

“How generous of them,” Hook comments, taking a step towards her with a deliberate look at what most definitely aren’t her eyes.

“No,” Regina immediately stops him, placing her hand on his chest to push him back. “Sit,” she orders, gesturing to the couch. “We need to talk.”

“Uh-uh,” Hook comments, raising his eyebrows as he complies. “I’ll have you know that I usually bolt when I hear that phrase coming out of a woman’s mouth.”

“Of course you do,” Regina scoffs, rubbing her eyes with one hand. God, this is going to be such a major disaster— the good news is, he likely won’t want anything to do with it. Hook doesn’t even know what the word ‘responsibility’ means, he’ll likely just want to be a funny uncle of sorts. Regina can live with that.

“So? Don’t leave me hanging, love,” he prompts, lightly.

Regina sighs. “Well. Apparently, we are two idiots,” she states. “Because I’m pregnant.”

Hook blinks at her and stares, like Emma did, and this time Regina has exactly zero patience for it – if we are being fair, she rarely has any patience for him.

“Storybrooke to Captain Guyliner!” she calls, kicking the couch to get his attention. “Did you hear what I just said?”

“Uh?” Hook replies, before breaking into a grin. “No, sorry, love, for a second there I thought you said I’d knocked you up.”

Regina merely raises her eyebrows, and she has to say that she rather enjoys watching the realization gradually creep up on his face.

“Oh,” he says, very eloquently.

“Exactly. Oh.”

Then, of course, the idiot starts laughing his ass off.

“This isn’t funny—” Regina protests, one second away from burning him alive right then and there – what’s stopping her is mostly the thought of having to replace the poor couch.

“Oh, but it is,” he replies, literally doubled over in laughter. “I knocked up her majesty. It’s bloody hilarious.”

“Well, I’m glad that you are having fun, because now we are going to have to discuss what you want to do with this,” she hisses, crossing her arms.

Hook sobers up just enough to ask, a slight grin still on his face: “Meaning?”

Meaning—” Regina replies. “—how involved you want to be.”

Hook blinks at her, finally serious. “What do you mean? I’m the father, I want to be involved, period,” he frowns.

Regina raises her eyebrows. “You do realize that fatherhood implies responsibility.”

“I’m not as daft as you think, love,” he assures, like it’s obvious. “I know what it means.”

“Really?” she replies, sceptically. “When was the last time you had to take care of a child, exactly?”

At her question, his face darkens and his eyes drop for a second, before he can catch himself. He’s quick to regain a less incriminating expression, but by then the damage is done.

“That’s what I thought,” she comments, arms crossed and not really surprised by the implied answer: he’s probably never even seen a child up-close.

“I’m sure that you’ll enlighten me, love,” Hook retorts, back to his grinning, annoying self. “I am still going to be as present as I can be, that I can promise.”

Regina scoffs. “We’ll see about that when you change your first diaper,” she mutters, turning on her heels to head for the kitchen and get herself an aspirin. Hook wants to become Dad Of The Year. It’s going to be a major disaster and she’s going to have no choice but staying right in the middle of it.

Well, short of dropping the baby at Emma’s place for ten years to even the scales, at least, but the thought only gives her a bigger headache: if there’s one thing worse than Hook fathering her child it’s Hook fathering her child without her supervision.





“My apologies, I’ll have to borrow him for a moment,” Killian states, grinning widely at Emma as he grabs Baelfire’s arm and starts pulling him away.

Emma gives him a strange look before going back to sword fighting with Henry – the lad is getting good –, whereas Baelfire is clearly confused but follows him anyway.

“Okay— what’s this about?” he asks, as Killian takes a quick look around to make sure that nobody is within earshot: getting brutally killed by Regina is not very high on his list of priorities at the moment.

“You know how you’ve mentioned that I’ve been particularly cheerful lately?” Killian asks, as Baelfire raises his eyebrows.

“Yeah…?” he says, slowly.

“It’s because me and Regina have been having a lot of good sex.”

Balefire blinks at him a couple of times before taking a deep breath. “Okay,” he says, carefully. “And I needed to know that because…?”

Because now she’s pregnant.”

There’s something to be said about the finality of taking it out of Regina’s living room. He’s going to be a father. The thought gives him an insane amount of joy and at the same time it makes him want to jump on the Jolly Roger and get as far away as possible from that cursed town that has been causing him nothing but trouble. Going back to his old life sounds much simpler.

But he’s going to have a kid.

Thing is, what happened the last time he tried to merely be a father figure for someone is kinda hard to ignore when the reminder is staring at him like he’s just grown a second head.

“That explains a lot,” Baelfire finally states, after regaining a more neutral expression.

“It explains what?”

“Emma,” he shrugs. “She went out for drinks with Regina and she came home, uh, weird. Guess this is what she was hiding.” A pause. “Congratulations?”

Killian scoffs. “Thanks.” He kind of feels like a very hormonal teenager, moving from the excitement of ‘I’m having a kid!’ to the sheer terror of ‘I’m going to be a father’ approximately every two seconds.

He had given this a thought or two with Milah, a couple of times, but they were pirating all around and she already had a kid that she planned to go back for, so he just figured they would be his family.

Now he’s having a kid with the Evil Queen of all people. Evil Queen who thinks that he isn’t father material. The thought offends him immensely, mostly because a part of him can’t help agreeing wholeheartedly.

“What?” Killian asks, somewhat harshly, when he notices that Baelfire is staring at him, the corner of his mouth twitching up.

At the remark, Baelfire just bows his head to hide a full-blown grin.

Bae!” Killian protests, because, really, right this second he doesn’t particularly appreciate being mocked.

“Sorry, sorry,” Baelfire amends, sobering up. “I was just imagining a child with her temper and your dickhead. I don’t know if it’s hilarious or terrifying.”

“That’s helpful, mate, thank you,” Killian grunts. He needs alcohol. Lots of it. But his flask is obviously empty already, and it’s not like he can rob a whole bar. He should probably dry his supply on the Jolly Roger.

“Okay, look,” Baelfire says, this time with that serious expression on his face that makes him look as far from the kid Killian knew back then as he could be. In this moment, he’s pretty darn grateful for it. “A kid is a good thing! And you’re here from the beginning, at least, it’s a good start. Yeah, you and Regina may not have a, uh, conventional relationship—”

Killian can’t help scoffing a little, amused: calling it a relationship might be a stretch in itself.

“—but this is still a good thing!” Baelfire continues. “And, I mean, our lives are crazy anyway, this is almost normal.”

“Do I need to remind you of what happened the last time I was in charge of a kid?” Killian asks, his tone lighter than it should be. He realizes a second later that he probably should have kept that one for himself, that for a while now he and Baelfire have been on much better terms than he’d thought they would be, but obviously not enough to bring it up like this— still, damage’s done.

Baelfire’s expression hardens, but it only lasts for a moment.

“Do you plan on selling this kid to the owner of a torture island?” he simply asks.

Killian barely swallows the urge to complain about the way he phrased it. “No,” he replies instead, a bit tiredly.

“Not even if they throw a temper tantrum full of insults and death threats, because— I don’t know, because you wouldn’t them eat too much sugar?”

“I don’t see why I would deny them sugar,” Killian highlights, trying to lighten up the mood a little and getting a benevolent eye-roll in return for his slight grin. “But no.”

“Then you should be fine,” Baelfire states, patting him reassuringly in the arm. “Not to mention, this is also Regina’s kid: I doubt she’ll let you get away with doing anything particularly dumb.”

“Fair point,” he concedes. “Alright, I won’t keep you from your family afternoon any longer,” he adds, gesturing his permission for him to go away.

Balefire briefly glances at Emma and Henry, before turning back towards him. “You know, aside from the, uh, crappy ending,” he says, clearing his throat. “You didn’t do a bad job with me. I mean it, you’ll do okay.”

He feels the corners of his mouth twitching up. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”