Love at First Soundbite

Rated T

Summary: During that day of singing that no one remembers, Captain Hook gets frightened of an unborn child and, later at home, Snow White and Prince Charming get frightened of a singing pirate and what that means.

Fortunately, none of them remember it the next day.

-or-

Meeting the love of one's life before they were even born was complicated, indeed.

Captain Hook should have known better. Inviting royals onto his ship, even with the promise of revenge still ringing in his ears, never ended well. Not that he made a habit of it unless one counted the Sea King. But that was hardly an invitation, more of an invasion.

Still, it was a good rule to have, one that he vowed to put into place as soon as the terrifying princess slammed her hands against pedestal, interrupting his admittedly vocal plans of revenge against the damn crocodile.

Mr. Smee, whose loyalty had always been three-fifths fear and two-parts admiration, jumped and scurried away from the lass's impending wrath. Traitorous dog.

"To what do I owe the pleasure." He was annoyed, clearly so, and he leaned his elbows against the felloe of the wheel.

"You're going to have to stop doing that, Captain." Her face was angry but there was the waver in her voice of someone on their last tether. He wondered if she was choosing anger over tears of frustration.

It bothered him, of course, and it bothered him that it bothered him. Still, he arched a brow and rested hand and hook on the handles. "I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific."

"What you were doing before, plotting your revenge loud enough for the folks at home to hear you."

The other brow joined the first. "The weaving of tales of how I plan to skin the crocodile too descriptive for you, love?"

She gasped and clutched her hand against her rounded belly and the look she gave him through gritted teeth was nearly enough to have him take a step back from her. That annoyed him, as well, because he was closer to the age of her kingdom than he was to her.

So, of course, he scoffed. "Are you implying that royalty doesn't approve of my methods as early as the womb?" He shrugged and splayed the fingers of his hand open, palm up. "Apologies, your majesty. Perhaps you should have chartered a more reputable ship."

Snow's eyebrows furrowed together as she actually contemplated what he said. "No, it doesn't feel like that."

"Then what, pray tell, is it like?"

The princess shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe she just doesn't like you being...angry? Unhappy?" She scoffed. "Look, I talk to birds, not unborn children."

This time he did take a step back, focusing for a moment on readjusting their heading. "So the wee one's been restless since I was singing?"

She blinked, surprised by the memory that hadn't made sense at the time. "Kind of. Actually, I think she was dancing."

He laughed at that. It was a sudden, loud sound that surprised even him. "I'll take the compliment, lass."

Her eyes narrowed in consideration for a moment. "Give me your hand."

Hook balked at her and took another step back, then another when she came from around the wheel, stalking toward him like a jungle cat. "What the bloody hell for?"

"She is restless. She is fidgety, cranky, and it's your fault. So." She grabbed his hand. "You are going to try to calm her down."

He could have protested, of course. There were more steps behind him he could have taken. But, really, even if he had little to no experience with expecting mothers, even he knew never to cross one.

"Look, she danced again when you laughed. So, pirate, I'd say you're the only one who can help me."

She kept hold of his hand, her own surprisingly calloused, and he realized she was waiting for permission despite her authoritative words and tone. He swallowed. "Well, I suppose I am a gentleman. Far be it for me to leave a lovely woman wanting."

The innuendo fell flat even to his own ears.

She wasn't paying attention to that. Instead, she beamed at him, and for a moment he remembered a blonde woman with sparkling green eyes leaning against his table and leaving him with a nasty hangover and a bruised jaw on his floor the next morning and nothing in between. Odd, since he hadn't thought of the peculiarity of that nondescript woman for at least two days.

The image flew from his mind the moment the princess pressed the palm of his hand against her belly. There was a curious jolt that rocked through him, and for the first time since a mermaid sang her lullaby to a ship full of men, his heart was light.

His fingers splayed over fabric and skin and the dancing mess of barely formed limbs beneath his touch settled into a gentle wave. The pain wasn't gone, of course, but it settled to the bottom of his heart like silt in a suddenly calm pond.

In that moment he realized that if these damn royals could not make due on their promise of his revenge, for once he would not be as quick to retaliate.

That, of course, scared the hell out of him. His hand suddenly jerked away from Snow White as though touching her was painful. In a way, it was.

And she was very much Not Pleased. "Captain, I am sorely tempted to demand you place your hand on me again at once, or else I'll be sorely tempted to make sure it stays there without the rest of you attached."

Apparently, fluttering baby was also very much Not Pleased.

"My apologies, lass. I just. Um. Mr. Smee, make sure the heading stays true. If I've not returned on the morrow, make certain our guests get off safely."

And of course, even if it was with slow and measured steps, he ran, because he wasn't ready for this.

(Over thirty years later, and even a few years before that, he would be. Because meeting the (second, because Milah totally counted) love of one's life before they were even born (also, technically, for the second time even if he barely remembered the first time) was complicated, indeed, but meeting them from under a pile of bodies promised the best of adventures.)

xxxxx

Several hours later and warm in her bed, Snow White ran soothing hands over her belly and hummed. Charming was quick to join her, his fingertips playing a gentle staccato that earned him a flutter of movement. It was a wonderful feeling knowing that even if they had to leave this child one day she would never be alone. Not really. Not with the songs of the people who loved her secure in her heart and-

Snow gasped as she sat up in bed.

"What is it? Is there something wrong?" His hand pressed more firmly against her abdomen.

"I don't know." She turned to her husband, her eyes wide with confusion. "Why did the pirate sing?"

Charming shrugged. "Well, revenge can be a pretty powerful motivator."

"No, listen. The Dark One didn't sing. When we left the palace, no one else sang until the tavern. And there, no one else sang until their captain did." She sat up and shifted toward him. "He was the only person we never met before who did."

The prince opened his mouth, closed it again, and suddenly his expression turned stubborn. He even jutted out his chin in defiance. "No. Nope. Not going to happen. He's what, five-hundred years old, if the stories are true?"

Snow sighed and took the hand on her belly and held it between her own. "Charming. I can understand us. I can also understand Regina, because that means there's hope for her, and that makes me so happy. But with him? What if it is him?"

He scoffed. "Really. A pirate and a princess?"

Her eyes remained steady on his. "A shepherd prince and a bandit princess?" Her hands flew to his face and smoothed the worry along his jaw as she slowly shook her head. "I'm not saying her is her happy ending. I'm not even saying they will fancy each other. But you've heard the stories, Charming."

"Yeah. He's ruthless."

"He's also relentless." She held his hand up to her heart. "If Blue is right, who better to be on our daughter's side if we're not there?"

Eventually, he relented, though he made it clear he doubted he would ever like it.

She responded that it would hardly matter, since they wouldn't remember the next morning, anyway.

But even as Snow defended a man they barely knew, she could not help the pang in her heart. She wondered if this was how Ava would have felt, had she survived, when she realized that her daughter was in love and a pang of not-quite loss lanced through her chest.

(Nearly thirty years later, when Mary Margaret watched from a distance as a notorious pirate placed her just returned daughter's hand on his shoulder to place a magic cuff, all flirtatious eyebrows and innuendo pouring from his mouth more surely than rum in a glass, she felt that sense of impending not-quite loss again and not know why.)