Captain Swan One Shots

Little Terrors

Summary: Emma and Killian have faced many challenges together, but nothing can prepare them for one of parenthood's greatest challenges: leaving the house.

Rating: G

Note:  This was written for the quote prompt: "Some days it feels more like a hostage negotiation with a band of drunken pirates than actual parenting" for the CS Hiatus Challenge on Tumblr.

...Little Terrors: Part 1/1...

"I don't want to wear shoes!" 4 year old Liam declared with a stomp of his foot, his brown hair flying every which way as he shook his head.

Emma sighed, as she tried to grab his wiggling feet and force the sneakers on.

"Why not?" she asked.

"They make my feet hot."

"Well, we're going to Granny's for your Uncle Neal's birthday. No shoes, no shirt, no service."

"I'm wearing a shirt," he said with a pout.

"Then you're halfway there," Emma said, as she finally managed to get his sneakers on.

Just then, 2 year old Ella came running into the living room, naked from the waist down.

"No diaper!" she screamed, her blonde curls waving around her head as she shook it.

Emma squeezed her eyes closed. "Killian!" she called.

Her husband appeared a moment later, Ella's pull-up in his hand. Emma gestured to their daughter.

"Care to explain?"

He shrugged. "I tried, love. She wouldn't let me put it on. I can't say I blame her. I too prefer to go sans undergarments."

"But at least you wear pants to conceal that fact," she said.

Emma took the diaper from him. "I'll try. Go get Eva in her bedroom."

Killian headed upstairs and found their 6 year old daughter sitting on her bed with a pout on her face.

"Come on, love. It's time to go."

"I'm not going," she declared glumly.

"And why not?"

"I feel weird today."

"You feel ill?"

"No, I feel weird."

"I haven't a bloody clue what that means."

"It means I don't feel like going to Uncle Neal's birthday party."

Killian sighed heavily, as he sat beside his daughter on the bed. He brushed her blonde hair behind her ear. "But, love, there will be cake at the festivities. You adore cake."

"What kind of cake?"

"I don't know."

"Carrot cake?" she asked, scrunching up her nose. "I hate carrot cake."

He sighed again. "I don't know what kind of cake, but Neal loves chocolate, so I'd say there's a fair chance of it being chocolate. Chocolate is your favorite."

"I don't like chocolate," she said with a shake of her head.

"Since when?" he asked, his eyebrows darting upwards.

"Since yesterday."

"What happened yesterday?"

"I told you. I stopped liking chocolate."

Killian groaned and ran his hand down his face. "Bloody hell."

He stood up and gestured at her to do the same. "Up. March yourself downstairs, lass. You're going."