Repeat (A Once Upon A Time Fanfiction / Captain Swan's Daughter)

68

- Emma's point of view -

I knew I had a banging headache before I was even fully awake the next morning. You'd think being married to a dedicated rum drinker would have made me more tolerant of alcohol, but apparently, that wasn't going to work for me. I had gone to open my eyes countless times, but sunlight poured through the crack in the curtains and almost blinded me every time. It took Henry knocking on my door to finally get me moving.

"Did I wake you?" Henry asked, sounded apologetic.

"No, it's fine, kid. I was practically up." I groaned, pushing myself up onto my elbows. "Are you having a good time on this trip?"

"With the exception of hearing about my moms making out, I'm having the best time." Henry avoided direct eye contact, but walked closer to me and sat on the side of the bed.

"I'm sorry about that." I cringed, remembering more and more about last night and knowing there was no doubt it wouldn't be brought up numerous times.

"It's fine, mom," Henry shrugged. "It's funny if you think about it."

"Hey! No, it is not. Don't gang up on me with Killian and Phoebe. Having two against me is hard enough." I tried to sound passionate, but I was still tired and my heart hurt more if I spoke too loud.

"I just came up to get Killian's phone for him," Henry said, changing the subject and unplugging the iPhone from the wire beside the bed. I smiled, knowing Killian must have woken up in the kids' room at some point during the night and decided to join his drunken wife, who probably snored less sweetly than her baby brother. "See you in a bit."

"Love you." I called quietly behind him, but loud enough for him to hear.

Almost as soon as Henry left, my mother dragged herself across the hall and into the empty side of my bed.

"Of course you can come and share my bed, mother. How nice of you to ask." I smiled at Snow.

"Why did you let me drink? I never drink." Mary Margaret complained.

"You say that every time you have a hangover, mom." I rolled my eyes, both of this laying with our backs facing the walls and our faces close enough to hear her breathing, but not close enough to smell her morning breath.

"How was I? Did I do anything bad? Did I do anything after I'd gone up to bed?" My mother asked.

"You're not the only one who was drunk; how am I supposed to know?" I didn't even try to stop my eyes lulling back into my head once more. "And how would I know the answer to your last question even if I was sober?"

"I meant, like, fall over anything or sing." Snow playfully hit me, tutting.

"My bad." I said.

My mother and I lay for a while, stopping each other from falling back to sleep when our blinks got increasingly long. In the end, we made a pact to quickly get up at the same time.

In Storybrooke I always had a soft robe steps from my bed so I could quickly put it on and retain my body heat, but waking up in the south was a completely different experience. I'd lived all over the country before calling Maine home, so I had lived in warmer places; there was just something different about waking up to a light, airy, decorated room compared to a small, unloved apartment. The owner of this beach house practically had a room painted every colour of the rainbow. Mine and Killian's room was an eggshell blue colour with contrasting warm mustard curtains and decorations. It was almost enough to make me want to rethink my own bedroom design. Our home was a work in progress and we were always changing things here and there, anyway.