#the amount of money the collective vankald family has spent on rangers merch is absurd

[welllpthisishappening]

Scoring on the Wraparound

He wasn’t really avoiding it. 

He didn’t really have time. There were...things. Stuff. Packing. Kissing his fiancée as much as humanly possible. 

Because he had a fiancée now and impending fatherhood wasn’t nearly as intimidating as calling his brother from the other side of the world to tell him about both of those things. 

So maybe he was avoiding it and, maybe, sometimes the more things changed the more they stayed the same. 

Words: 5.5K of Jones Brothers feelz. Rating: The lowest common denominator of T because I can’t write a story without someone swearing AN: I got an anon a couple days ago asking about Liam’s reaction to finding out the news of Mattie Jones and if he’d be around when Killian and Emma told the Vankalds and my mind was like ok, we can do that in a drabble of some sort and then my mind laughed at itself because what even is a drabble? So here’s this instead. And eventually I really will write Killian and Emma telling the Vankalds because the Vankalds would freak and buy several thousand dollars of Rangers-branded baby merchandise. Thanks for still loving this stupid hockey team, guys. It’s the best.  Also on Ao3 if that’s how you roll.

“Call him.” “I texted him before.” “Call him.” “I have no idea what time it is at home. And then I’ve got to figure out the time difference for Colorado and--” “--Call him.”

Killian sighed, closing his eyes lightly and he could still, somehow, feel Emma’s stare on the side of her head. He leaned back, bumping into the wall they were both resting against and it probably wasn’t a good sign that the brand-new, only slightly used hockey arena seemed to creak when Emma shifted next to him, a hand on his thigh and her cheek pressed against his shoulder and he was, at least, ninety-six percent positive she was smiling.

“It’s weird that you haven’t, you know that, right?” Emma asked softly, the words barely audible over the growing sounds in the arena and Roland’s not-so-quiet instructions to Humbert about the best way to sing the anthem. “Is there...is there a reason you haven’t?” That got him to open his eyes.

“No,” Killian said intently. Emma hummed, a possible agreement that sounded just a little cautious and that wasn’t right at all. “Of course not, Swan. We’ve admittedly been a little busy. Sleeping. And not sleeping.” She flushed slightly and he’d probably spend a questionable amount of time thinking about that, tugging her lips behind her teeth when her eyes flitted towards the ring on her left hand.

“Ah, that’s cheating,” Emma mumbled. “You can’t make sweeping allusions when there’s a painfully adorable kid a couple feet away.” “He’s distracted.” “Killian.” “Still here.” Emma rolled her eyes, but her tongue darted between her lips and he was winning whatever flirting battle they were staging. That probably wasn’t the right word to use when he kept trying to make sure his hand trained on her stomach, palm flat against the fabric of whatever she was wearing – or, more often than not in the last twelve hours, not wearing – and he was having a difficult time coming up with the words.

That might have been his problem.

He wasn’t really avoiding it.

Not really.

Well, maybe.

And it didn’t make sense.

But there was something and maybe Killian was kind of nervous – terrified, more like, but that wasn’t really the right word either a few days removed from winning a goddamn gold medal and getting engaged and making out with his fiancée on the ice because they were going to have a kid.

A kid.

And he hadn’t told his brother.

Technically.

“You’re being difficult on purpose,” Emma accused, rapping her fingers on the back of his palm. “And you’ve got some kind of obsession, here.”

She smiled as she said it, the teasing note in her voice making it obvious that it wasn’t any kind of issue, but Killian felt his own flush rise in his cheeks and he was so goddamn happy he was certain he was going to explode.

Or something less drastic.

He really wanted to go home. And maybe go to the doctor. And tell his brother. Officially.

“I know, Swan,” Killian mumbled, dropping his head to kiss against the curve of her shoulder. She eyed him meaningfully, jerking her head towards Roland, like he could even bring himself to care what was happening in the far corner of the room.

He was still singing, the gold medal around his neck bouncing off his chest every time he added whatever dance routine he’d choreographed and Humbert looked passably amused – and only slightly irritated, the thin line of his mouth twisting slightly whenever Roland’s voice picked up.

“It’s stupid attractive,” Emma added.

“What is?” “Your brand-new touching...thing.” “You’ve got to call it something else, love. That sounds menacing.” “Ask me to expand my vocabulary when I’ve gotten some more sleep and am not constantly worried about what brand-new horrors the Rangers website is going to provide me today.” Killian chuckled lightly, goosebumps on Emma’s skin when the air brushed over her neck. “Three days, Swan. Of absolutely, positively not getting out of bed.” “You know, that sounds kind of menacing too,” she pointed out, twisting slightly and absolutely ignoring whatever sound of protest Killian made at the move. “Seriously, I’m going to punch you in the face. The kid does not mean my abdominal muscles disappeared. That’s just not how the human body works.” Killian quirked an eyebrow, but it was mostly so she didn’t notice the way his heart almost beat out of his chest at the casual use of the word kid and it absolutely didn’t worked. She smiled, though, and that was kind of the point.

“Everyone knows,” Emma muttered, tugging lightly on the front of his shirt. “It’s not like they don’t. El and Anna have been texting about themes for a nursery for the last twenty-four hours. They’re like...real invested. And Reese’s already thinks we should consider some kind of spinach puff appetizer.” “That sounds disgusting.” “I know! That’s what I told her, but she’s thrilled and planning and, you know, if it means we get to have some kind of cake-tasting event like she did, then maybe I’m down to plan a wedding.”

The world exploded.

It felt like, at least – the rushing in his ears and the force of Emma’s smile and whatever light they were using in that media room seemed to make the stone in her ring sparkle at some kind of cosmic level.

He wasn’t sure that even made sense.

“We’ll make sure we get some kind of cake-tasting event, Swan,” Killian promised and he didn’t argue her movement when she leaned forward to brush her lips over hers. “More options than Mary Margaret.” “You are a giant, competitive weirdo.” “Who won a gold medal. And you agreed to marry. So, you know…” He could feel her smile against his mouth, not even bothering to pull away and he had to count to ten in his head so he didn’t actually groan when Emma’s fingers carded through his hair. Humbert probably wouldn’t have appreciated that either.

And Killian really didn’t want Regina to yell at him for scaring Roland.

“Yeah, I know,” Emma muttered. “How come you didn’t call Liam yet? Is this...I mean you can’t stop touching me, so at the risk of sounding like an absurdly over-confident ass I think it’s pretty safe to say you’re not upset.” “Swan,” he sighed, resting his forehead against hers and his hand felt like it had a magnet in it at that point. “That’s not even remotely what it is.” “Why then?” He couldn’t really shrug, but he made a noise in the back of his throat and that might have just been a whine when Emma’s fingers moved out of his hair. She tapped lightly on his jaw, Humbert’s quiet we going to do this coming at, quite possibly, the worst time.

“I don’t know,” Killian said, but open book absolutely worked both ways and Emma didn’t even have to move away from him for him to feel the force of her skeptical stare. She tapped a bit harder. “Because he’s...he’s Liam and he’s, you know…” “I promise I do not.” Killian licked his lips, scowling slightly and the admission felt like it scratched its way out of him. “Because he’s Liam,” he repeated. “And he’s...well he’s always figured everything out and everything I’ve done has been to--” “--Impress him?” Emma interrupted. “Because I really do think the hat trick in the gold medal game might do that.” “Nah, not like that. It doesn’t have anything to do with hockey, actually.” Emma’s eyebrows leapt up her forehead, flying into her hair when she pulled back to gape at him and her hand fell on top of his. “Do you think Liam is, what...judging your life decisions? I mean I know we didn’t really plan this and we’re kind of going out of order, at least the way society dictates the order should go, but that’s kind of antiquated and society can honestly go fuck itself and…”

He cut her off, ducking his head and pressing his lips against hers and the sound she made – some kind of gasp, groan thing that sent a shock down his spine – probably scared Roland and Humbert and every single human being in the entire arena.

Killian sighed against her and he hadn’t really been holding any tension, even with the distinct lack of sleep, but kissing Emma was like coming home or landing or something equally absurd and sentimental and maybe he had been avoiding his brother.

“I love you,” he muttered, her eyelashes still fluttering and chest moving a hint quicker than normal. “An absolutely absurd amount.” “I feel like the whole marriage and family thing was a pretty good sign, honestly,” Emma laughed. “You going to tell me the truth now or you want to keep making out?” “Is that an honest question?” “No.” He grinned, trying to run his hand through his hair. It didn’t matter. She’d absolutely destroyed it. “Liam’s always been this kind of...I don’t know,” Killian explained and he had to take a deep breath before the words rushed out of him. “He’s kind of my hero.” Emma blinked.

And blinked again.

And he really didn’t expect her to laugh.

“You’re kind of ruining that previously discussed confidence, Swan,” Killian said and her laugh got louder. Humbert muttered another string of words and possibly mentioned schedule four times. “Jeez, Humbert, relax.”

Emma was still laughing, the sound inching closer to just a bit unhinged and Killian had read a few websites when he wasn’t entirely preoccupied with undressing his fiancée, but none of the lists he’d looked at mentioned manic hysteria as an actual symptom of the first trimester.

“Swan,” he said cautiously, inching back in her gaze and there were tears in her eyes. “Are you alright, love?” “Was that supposed to be a surprise?” Emma asked. “Oh my God, I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out before. That’s a credit to you and your makeout skills, you know. I was way too distracted.” “What is happening right now?” “Alright, I want you to listen to me right now and, like, file it away in the deepest, darkest corners of your mind and then I don’t want this to be a question ever again, got it?” Killian nodded slowly, not entirely sure what he was agreeing to, but Emma was still smiling and the last two weeks had been some kind of dream, so maybe it all made sense.

“I love you,” she continued, tugging on his shirt. “More than anything and I am…God, I’m happy and excited and terrified and you are going to be so good at this. We’re going to be so good at this. So, yeah, I’m kind of freaking out, but I’m also ready for it and you get to call your brother and brag to brother and be confident that you are the absolute best guy I know. Bar none.”

Humbert stopped talking about the schedule.

Roland stopped singing.

And Killian wasn’t sure he was still breathing.

If he was dreaming, he didn’t want to wake up.

“You want to get married, Swan?”

She laughed again, loud enough that it sounded like the noise actually bubbled out of her and it might have been pure joy and possibly bouncing off the walls or echoing in his head and none of it mattered as long as it kept happening.

Emma nodded, the tears finally falling on her cheeks and she bit her lip when he brushed his thumb over her cheek. “Yeah,” she breathed. “Every single time.”

Killian kissed her, quick and maybe just a hint bruising, tongue tracing over her mouth until she sagged just a bit against him and they were absolutely fucking up the entire schedule. And probably Merida’s ability to sleep for, possibly, the rest of her life.

“I’m going to go call Liam,” he said and Emma rolled her eyes.

“About time.”

It took a few minutes to find a quiet corner and then a few more minutes to decide if he was going to actually FaceTime the phone call, but that debate was more one-sided than Kilian expected and it took two rings before Liam’s face showed up on his phone screen.

“You know,” Liam drawled, barely giving Killian a chance to breathe, let alone give any kind of socially acceptable greeting. “I was starting to think you forget I was here.” Killian winced, squeezing one eye shut and stuffing his hand into the back of his hair. “Ah, that’s not fair,” he muttered. “It’s been...you know, busy.” Liam hummed, the hint of a smile curling on the ends of his mouth and it was probably stupid to have been worried. And that wasn’t quite the right word either.

Killian wasn’t worried.

He knew Liam would be happy and excited and the prospect of battling both Locksley and Scarlet for Matthew Jones’ favorite uncle would be some kind of thrill of a lifetime thing, but the words were still sitting in the back of Killian’s throat and he just wanted his brother to be proud of...everything.

That sounded lame in his head. He could only imagine what it would sound like out loud.

“Busy here meaning life-changing?” Liam asked and the smile was a smirk and vaguely sarcastic and Killian felt like he was fourteen years old.

That was kind of weird – all things considered.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “But in a good way, you know?” “You keep using that phrase. Why are you asking me for confirmation?” Killian shrugged, ducking his eyes to his feet when he slid down the latest wall he was leaning again. Liam did something ridiculous with his eyebrows, a somehow judgmental arch that wasn’t really helping the pace of the conversation and Killian dimly wondered if that was genetic.

It was probably on some website somewhere.

“You’ve got to actually use words at some point, little brother,” Liam chuckled. “We can’t just converse in grunts. And the ring looked good, by the way.” Killian made some kind of noise – probably something that would, generally, be classified as a grunt of surprise and Liam nearly dropped his phone when he started laughing. “Here’s a tip, when important people in your life tell one half of the relationship that you’re a part of something important, assume you will also get that news in some kind of timely fashion.” “Did those words make sense in that order?” “Elsa told me. Or showed me. And then showed me the group text. She and Anna think you’re going to to choose some kind of sports theme and that’s incredibly cliché.” “Some kind of family tradition,” Killian said, the words falling out of him before he really considered it and Liam’s eyebrows were going to get sprained if he kept moving them that way.

“You tell Mr. V you’re going to name a kid after him yet?” “Jeez, El’s just shouting things from metaphorical rooftops, huh?”

“Anna.” “Ah.” Liam chuckled, slouching into the corner of the couch and the twins were shouting off camera, the sound of pucks hitting something echoing from the other side of the world. And Lizzie started crying at some point, Elsa’s quiet entreaties to go back to sleep barely audible over the sound and it was all vaguely chaotic and kind of nice and Killian’s heart did something impossible again.

Exploded or something.

“We didn’t tell ‘em yet,” Killian said, belatedly answering the question. “Figured that was kind of an in-person thing.” “Ah, so I’m not the last person to find out then, huh?” Liam asked. “I actually feel better about that. And, technically, I guess I knew before anyone else did with vaguely worded texts that sent Elsa into some kind of emotional tailspin.” “Again, I was kind of busy. And trying to propose.” “Not on the ice.” “I was never going to propose on the ice,” Killian laughed, fingers still tugging on his hair and they were still dancing around announcements and life-changing news. “I wasn’t trying to avoid you,” he added softly. He might beat up Liam’s eyebrows at some point. “We weren’t going to say anything because all those sites say you shouldn’t and--” “--Killian,” Liam cut in and Elsa’s voice had, suddenly, disappeared. She was probably frozen somewhere. “Are you reading websites? About...kids?”

His jaw ached from clenching it so tightly, whatever noise he made in response some kind of impossible thing that seemed to pull from the pit of his stomach. But then he remembered Emma’s face and her hand on his and, well, he was goddamn thrilled about everything.

“Yeah,” Killian nodded. Elsa might have shrieked. Lizzie started crying again. “I mean not a ton because I’ve got to be connected to wifi or I’m going to get totally fucked by my phone plan, but some stuff and ideas and..”

He took another deep breath and his lungs were going to explode with his heart and Liam’s smile had never been that wide.

Ever.

“Emma’s pregnant,” he finished, his own smile making the muscles in his face stretch and twist and the world seemed to pause for a moment when Liam actually dropped his phone.

That appeared to be catching.

“Holy shit,” Liam muttered, shaking his head in something that might have been awe and possibly disbelief and Killian was glad he was sitting down. “That’s...holy shit.” “Eloquent.”

“Shit,” he repeated, Elsa clicking her tongue from somewhere when his vocabulary dissolved into one curse word that the twins would probably spend the next week repeating. “I mean...I knew or kind of knew, but that’s…”

Liam shook his head again and maybe they should all get a media training rehash from Ruby. None of them were very good at holding a conversation. “Is it weird to tell you congratulations? People told us congratulations and I thought that was weird, but I can’t come up with another word, so, uh...congratulations.”

“I’ll take it,” Killian grinned. “It is kind of weird though, but I accept it.” “When I come up with another word to scream from those metaphorical rooftops you were talking about before I’ll get back to you.” “That’s fair.” Liam laughed again, a bit quiet and slightly stunned and Killian hoped all the internal organs that felt as if they were twisting into several dozen knots at the moment recovered by the time he had to play actual hockey games again.

“So, uh, it’s been a pretty good Olympics for you huh?” Liam asked. Killian dropped his phone. They were all absolute disasters.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Kind of the best. I’m uh...I really wasn’t avoiding you, but El and Banana kind of attack-called and Scarlet can’t keep a secret and I just wanted you to…” He needed to finish a goddamn sentence

He couldn’t.

Words were, apparently, more challenging than an overtime gold medal game or impending fatherhood or proposing as many times as one person could propose in a several day-span.

He’d asked Emma to marry him sixteen times.

At last count.

And Liam absolutely knew how that sentence was going to end.

It was, admittedly, kind of obvious.

“That’s stupid,” Liam said pointedly, waving a hand over his shoulder when Elsa shouted something that sounded a hell of a lot it’s definitely stupid, KJ. “See, I’ve got back-up. I win.” “Were we arguing?” “No, but I still win because that’s definitely the stupidest thing you’ve ever thought. Were you honestly worried that I’m not incredibly proud of you at all times?”

Killian made some kind of impossible noise, probably doing permanent damage to his throat in the process, and Liam widened his eyes in disbelief. “C’mon, little brother, that’s ridiculous,” he said. “You’ve done something good here and not just because that kid is going to have the greatest hockey genes in the history of the world. You are...well you can self-loathe with the best of ‘em, can’t you?”

Elsa laughed in the background, another quiet agreement and side commentary and Killian resisted the urge to make a quip about play by play. He shrugged instead.

Liam rolled his eyes.

“I’m going to take that as an agreement,” he chuckled. “It’s unnecessary. It always was really, but you’re also the single most stubborn person on the planet, so that was falling on deaf ears. That’s got to change now, Killian. Because you’re going to be that kid’s hero and you should be. He couldn’t pick a better one.”

Elsa might have been crying.

“That might have been the single greatest motivational speech you’ve ever given,” Killian mumbled, blinking quickly and threatening to rip out his own hair.

“That was off the cuff too. Feel free to tell your kid about that when he understands the English language. And take solace in the fact that the twin thing is a Vankald trait because I trust you little brother, but I’m not sure you could cope with twins.” “Younger brother. God.” “I take such joy in that little pinch between your eyebrows though.”

Killian groaned, rolling his entire head in response. “Although you’re probably right about twins. Right about the hockey genes though.” “I’m already ready for the national title run in...what year?” “2036.” Liam let out a low whistle and Elsa probably should have moved to the couch if she was going to comment on every single part of the conversation. “Was that also on the websites you’re reading?” Liam asked.

“Scarlet did the math.” “Scarlet can do math?” “Ask him that question next time you talk to him.” “Ah, no thanks, he couldn’t really hit anybody for the last two and half weeks. I don’t want to be on the receiving end of all that pent up aggression.”

“Good call.” Liam hummed in agreement, a kid suddenly in his lap and wearing a Team USA jersey and the world had a messed up sense of humor. “You learn some things over the years,” he grinned. “You nervous? Honestly?” Killian considered his answer for a moment, tucked into that quiet corner and he wasn’t entirely certain how he was going to get back to the media room. “Grand scheme,” he mumbled and Liam’s eyes widened slightly. “Not at all. Questionably not at all.” “How does those words go together?” “I have no idea, actually,” Killian admitted lightly. “But I’m not. I’m...good. Great. Better than great. It’s kind of the little things. Do they have monkey bars in schools anymore?” “What?” “Monkey bars. You know, like you swing and fall off and break your wrist or something.” “That is oddly specific.” “I’m worried about monkey bars and their existence and potential for asshole kids to do something vaguely terrible.” Liam gaped at him, blinking quickly like Killian would disappear and show that he’d been replaced with some kind alien obsessed with playground equipment. He didn’t. Because he was questionably worried about monkey bars.

And it only took Liam four and a half seconds to realize that monkey bars were both a metaphor.

“You learn some things, Killian,” he said again, shifting the kid perched on his leg and wincing when a knee collided with his stomach. “And you realize you can’t control everything and that’s good for everyone involved. It’s not the blue line. There’s no straight path from the point. It’s a five on three penalty kill and everything’s coming at you from every single angle and it lasts like...the rest of your life.” “You’re really selling it.” “Yeah, well, you’re kind of committed now. But, honestly, it’s chaotic and exhausting and your thighs will probably feel like you’ve been on the PK for twenty-six straight minutes at some point because you won’t get any sleep and that kid may have great hockey genes, but all babies hate squash and he’ll throw it at your face.

But here’s the sell. You are so goddamn happy you reek with it from the other side of the world. And so is Emma. I think Anna printed out that picture of you two on the ice to use as, like, blackmail for the rest of your lives. So you get to keep doing that and you get to keep building something and settling into something else and life keeps happening and it’s absolutely...” he paused to cover his hands over Charlie’s ears, pulling him against his chest, like that would help. “It’s absolutely fucking fantastic and you’re going to be the best dad that kid could ask for.”

Killian exhaled for what felt like the first time in his life, a rush of air and feelings and Elsa was close to sobbing somewhere in that house. “Stepped up your motivational speech game over the last couple of years,” he muttered, a shaky laugh clinging to the words. “Someone should have been recording that.” “I’m not convinced Elsa wasn’t.” “Double negatives kind of taking away from the whole thing honestly.” “Ah, hit the post.” “Too many hockey metaphors,” Killian said and Liam nodded in agreement, lower lip jutted out slightly. “If I tell you that I just wanted you to be proud of me are you going to tell Locksley and Scarlet because I don’t think I could handle that.”

Liam didn’t answer at first and that was only kind of jarring, but then he blinked again and his eyes were a little glossy and Killian was holding his breath.

Elsa sniffled.

“No,” Liam whispered. “I wouldn’t. I would tell you that I have been since the very start and every single day since. No matter what you think you’ve done.” “God, you’re on a roll.” “That’s because I’m presumably getting more sleep than you are. Neurons firing on all cylinders and whatnot.”

“Yeah, that makes total sense.” “I am absolutely ready to beat down against both Locksley and Scarlet and David, if need be, because I’m that kid’s only actual uncle and I’d like whatever record to note that.”

“The record appreciates that,” Killian said, finally letting his hand fall out of his hair and that felt like a bigger moment than it probably should have. “Maybe he can be a centerman or something. Keep the tradition alive.” Liam dropped the phone again.

And he nearly lost track of time, talking and planning and Elsa really did have far too many ideas about the potential decorating scheme of a potential nursery and they’d moved into a two-bedroom apartment.

Killian found his way back to the media room, Humbert glancing his direction when his shoes squeaked on the floor and Roland was never going to stop humming the national anthem.

“Let me know when you land, ok?” Humbert asked, leaning forward to brush a kiss over Emma’s forehead and she was still smiling.

“Of course,” she said.

Humbert nodded towards Killian when he walked out, leaving them alone with an incredibly excited eight-year-old and the sounds of a computer doing something and Killian’s hand did that magnet thing again, brushing over Emma’s stomach as soon as she was within reach.

“You ready to go, love?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Emma nodded, closing her eyes lightly like she was trying to memorize the moment. “Let’s go home.”

 “Call him.” "You’re supposed to be asleep.”

Emma sighed, shifting against his side and there was not enough room for that. The bed creaked and they both snapped towards the bassinet, container thing and there had to be an actual word for it, but Killian was far too worried about waking up his hours-old son to be concerned about proper sentence structure.

They had a son.

“I’m not asleep,” Emma muttered, tugging on the team-branded t-shirt he’d changed into at some point and everything felt sluggish and far too fast at the same time. He’d tried not to fall asleep, like he’d miss something or some momentous moment if he even dared close his eyes, but Emma was so goddamn soft against him, breathing evening out and Matthew David Jones was still asleep.

Parents of the year.

Already.

“And I’m not going to fall asleep because our sleep schedules are all already out of whack and this bed is, like, a rock,” Emma continued. “So we should probably call them and tell them that there’s a painfully adorable kid here.” “You want me to use that exact phrase, love?” Killian asked, quirking an eyebrow and she didn’t roll her eyes. Her lips twitched slightly and that was kind of a victory and the world was incredibly perfect.

Or something less sentimental.

No, something more sentimental. The most sentimental.

Killian leaned to his left, grabbing his phone off the nightstand and it didn’t even take a single ring, Liam’s eyes wide and he might have been vibrating with excitement, the phone screen shaking on his side of the call.  

Emma laughed.

“Why are you awake?” Killian asked. “Is there an earthquake happening there?” Liam leveled him with a stare that probably should have been patented. “Killian, you called me and I’m experiencing some weird déjà vu because I feel like we did this with the ring call and also because I’ve been waiting for you to call me for, like, nine hours. Also I have kids. Kids who have to go to school.” “Oh, yeah, that’s a thing isn’t it?” Emma mused, Liam’s eyes darting towards the sound like he’d be able to see her out the side of the phone. “We’ve got to decide where to send him to school, don’t we?”

“I mean not right now, Swan,” Killian reasoned. “He’s real busy sleeping.” “Wait, what?” Liam gasped, shouting the question and jumping up and down and Elsa yelled from somewhere.

She ran into the frame, colliding with Liam’s side and the hospital bed probably couldn't stand up to the combined force of both Killian and Emma’s laughter. “KJ,” Elsa breathed. “Can we...can we see him?”

It took far longer than it probably should have to climb off the bed, but Killian was far more aware of noise than he’d ever been in his life and his knuckles turned white when he gripped the phone, directing the phone camera towards a still-sleeping Matthew David Jones.

“Oh,” Elsa sighed, a hand flying to her mouth and Liam absolutely was not breathing, a statue who seemed determined to lick his lips, at least, forty-two times in a ten-second span. “Oh my God. He’s perfect.” “Totally perfect,” Emma agreed softly, smiling at Killian when he glanced over his shoulder.

Liam nodded, slinging an arm around Elsa’s shoulders and they were definitely both crying. Killian couldn’t bring himself to say anything.

He might have been crying too.

“Did Mom and Dad show yet?” Elsa asked, eyes still on Matt.

Killian shook his head. “Tomorrow. Or later tonight. I don’t know, I’ve already lost all track of time outside of this hospital room.” “Ah, well, that’s understandable.”

“You guys good?” Liam asked. “Like...everything good? Healthy and all of that?” “Yeah,” Killian said. “All of the above. I think Scarlet’s already measuring him for his first jersey fitting.” Elsa clicked her tongue, closing her eyes tightly and Killian didn’t remember deciding to sit down, just that his knees bent and Emma’s fingers brushed over the side of his arm. He had to twist to hold her hand.

He didn’t really mind.

“It was totally Liam’s idea,” Elsa continued, shouting from out of frame again and thrusting her hands towards the camera when she collapsed back down.

And, really, he shouldn’t have been surprised.

Because of course they’d bought it.

They’d bought his first jersey.

He hadn’t been playing long yet, he and Liam had only just started practices and it was almost his ninth birthday and they’d pooled their money – for a second-hand Rangers jersey that was far too big and far too ratty and there was a rip in the right sleeve.

The new one was better.

It was a Rangers jersey and far too big and the number twenty on the back went without saying, but the name was slightly unexpected, the MATTHEW emblazoned on it making Killian’s breath hitch and Emma’s hand tighten and it was some kind of miracle he didn’t drop the phone.

“It’ll probably take some time for him to grow into it,” Liam started. “You know, being an actual newborn at this point, but, uh, I figured he could wear it eventually and it’d intimidate the monkey bars or something.”

Emma’s hand tightened again, an impossible show of strength that left Killian wincing and tugging her fingers up to brush his lips just underneath her ring. “Monkey bars,” she echoed, tears on her cheeks and voice slightly shaky and there had to be a word bigger than sentimental. “Thanks, guys. Just...thank you.”

Elsa nodded, the force of her smile possibly affecting the atmosphere or the rotation of the Earth, and Liam didn’t look away from Killian.

“Congratulations, Dad,” he said and the words settled in the pit of Killian’s stomach and the back corner of his mind and he and Emma were asleep again by the time the Vankalds showed up later that afternoon.