Title: A Dark and Stormy Night
Summary: "Anyway, my point is that I didn't exactly get a lot of chances to get used to thunderstorms. This one is loud and it's keeping me awake." "So you decided to wake me up so it can keep us both awake?" Emma asked, arching an eyebrow at her son. "Yep," Henry replied around a stifled giggle.
Spoilers: None, really. Set mid-season 2.
Rating/Warning: K+, for language, mostly. Family fluff, as per usual.
Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time and its characters were created by Eddie Kitsis and Adam Horowitz and are owned by ABC. I borrowed them when they weren't looking.
Author's Note: Fourth in my little series of "family things the Charmings never got to do so are doing now" but as always, this can be read as a standalone piece. The following was inspired by the sheer amount of thunderstorms the Boston area has experienced over the last couple of weeks. This probably won't end up being as long as my other stories (but I say that a lot, so who knows? ;)). Also as always, feedback makes my little day. Enjoy!

The dilemma facing Henry Mills at the present moment was not one to be taken lightly. He was buried under his comforter for a reason, after all.

One heck of a storm was raging outside, hence Henry's decision to yank the covers over his head. On the list of things he enjoyed, he had recently discovered that thunderstorms ranked quite near to the bottom. Just above taking out the trash but well below homework.

He was, however, starting to get really hot under the covers and it was becoming a bit difficult to breathe. On the other hand, if he pulled the covers off his head now, he would have to deal with the sights and the sounds of the thunderstorm to end all thunderstorms.

Not that hiding out the comforter was really helping. The storm sounded as if it had come to a dead stop directly above their apartment building. The thunder was deafening, and the comforter didn't really do much in the way of muffling the sound. Short of fashioning small wads of toilet tissue into ear plugs, though, Henry didn't know what else to do.

Eventually, the need for fresh air won out. He whipped the comforter off his face and took a couple deep gulps of sweet, cool air. Just then, a whip-crack of thunder sounded, rattling the window panes and making Henry cry out in surprise. He clapped his hands over his ears and squeezed his eyes shut as lightning almost immediately forked through the night sky, bathing the little loft bedroom in flickering, ethereal light.

He'd tried to simply ignore it all and go back to sleep, he really had. But the thunder was way too loud and the lightning way too bright. It flickered and flashed like a strobe light most of the time, making it hard for him to keep his eyes closed. A low rumble overhead crescendoed into another boom that shook the window panes, finally forcing him out of bed with a soft whimper.

Well, now what? There were no lights on downstairs, meaning the storm hadn't disturbed his grandparents enough that they'd gotten up. He listened for voices, thinking maybe they were talking in the dark, but he couldn't hear anything over the almost constant thunder.

Henry slowly approached his mother's bed, trying to figure out whether or not she was awake. The flashes of lightning didn't provide steady illumination but from what he could see, he didn't think she was. How in the heck is she sleeping through this? he silently wondered as he drew to a stop at the edge of the empty side of her mattress.

The thunder stopped for a few blissful seconds, just long enough for him to hear Emma's heavy breathing. Dang it, she was definitely asleep, and if she was sleeping through the chaos raging outside, he didn't stand a chance of waking her up.

Still, something within him that he didn't quite understand forced him to try. "Mom?" he called out tentatively.

She remained still, sprawled out on her back in the middle of the bed. When he still didn't get a response from a louder call of her name, Henry shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he tried to figure out his next step.

A sudden, deafening clap of thunder forced his hand, sending him scrambling for cover in his mom's bed. The bounce of the mattress finally roused Emma, who pushed herself up on one elbow and groggily mumbled, "Henry?"

"Sorry," he muttered back, even though he was secretly glad he'd woken her. "It's just–"

A flash of lightning illuminated the room, interrupting Henry's train of thought and making Emma instantly understand why her son had climbed into her bed in the middle of the night. "Oh, kid, really?" she asked through a soft groan, flopping back down on her pillow. "You're afraid of thunderstorms?"

"I'm not afraid of them," he insisted. "I just don't really like them all that much."

Emma smirked as her eyes slid closed. "I'm sorry, my mistake."

She didn't believe him; he could tell. He tried not to sound insulted as he said, "This is only my third thunderstorm, you know."

That got her to blink her eyes open, frowning at her son in confusion. "Seriously? How have you survived eleven years on this planet and only been through three thunderstorms?"

Now it was Henry's turn to smirk. His mom had the hardest time trying to wrap her head around the unchanging nature of Storybrooke before she arrived. "The weather around here didn't change all that much before you came to town, Mom."

She heaved a sigh and swiped her hand over her face. "I am so not awake enough for this conversation."

"Anyway, my point is that I didn't exactly get a lot of chances to get used to thunderstorms. This one is loud and it's keeping me awake."

"So you decided to wake me up so it can keep us both awake?" she asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

"Yep," he replied around a stifled giggle.

"Gee, thanks." Emma sighed again as she turned onto her side, facing Henry. She shut her eyes and tucked her hands under her pillow, making herself comfortable. "You can stay here if you want. Just close your eyes, relax, and try to go back to sleep. Pretend you're listening to fireworks or something."

Henry frowned. He'd tried to go back to sleep but the thunder and lightning were just too much. Emma didn't seem to be in the mood to talk, though, so he really had no other option but to try again. He snuggled under the covers, closed his eyes, and tried his hardest to ignore the storm.

A new round of thunder clapped overheard, startling the both of them. "Jesus," Emma muttered as her eyes snapped open.

"See what I mean?" Henry asked, his voice shaky. Though he didn't want to admit it, he was craving comfort. He inched closer to Emma, hating the fact that doing so would make it seem like he was scared. He wasn't scared, not really. He'd just had enough thunder and lightning for one night and wanted the storm to blow over already.

"It's all right, kid," Emma murmured.

"The storm's really close," he continued in a whisper. "I remember when Gramma taught us all how to count the time between seeing the lightning and hearing the thunder to figure out how far away the storm is. This was back before I knew she was my gramma, obviously, but–"

"I get it," Emma said, smiling kindly. The claps of thunder and flashes of lightning were almost constant, leaving barely enough time between them to get out a one-Mississippi. "It's just a storm, Henry. Nothing's going to happen, I promise."

"I know," he said, smiling back and trying to make his shrug come across as nonchalant. "I'm just saying."

"We thought we heard voices," came a woman's soft voice from the doorway

Henry sat up and grinned at his grandmother and grandfather, who were standing at the top of the staircase and peeking into the room. Emma groaned softly as she sat up and combed her fingers through her hair. "You might as well come on in," she grumbled as she switched on the bedside lamp, causing everyone to squint against the sudden burst of light. "It doesn't look like any of us are going back to sleep any time soon."

Snow and David smiled as they stepped into the room. David took a seat on the edge of Henry's vacated daybed while Snow eased down at the foot of Emma's bed. "Please don't tell me you guys are afraid of storms, too," Emma said, frowning at her parents.

"I'm not afraid!" Henry huffed.

"My mistake," Emma repeated, smiling gently at him. Henry playfully narrowed his eyes at her in response.

"We're not afraid, either," David assured her with a smirk. "We were just checking on you, making sure you two were okay."

"We've lived through a thunderstorm or two," Emma said, then glanced at her son. "Well, most of us have lived through a thunderstorm or two. So yeah, we're okay. It is getting kind of cramped up here, though, so if we're going to do the whole waiting the storm out together thing, can we do it downstairs?"

"Of course," Snow agreed with a soft smile. "I'll whip up some hot chocolate with cinnamon while we wait."

Emma gazed longingly at her pillow for a brief moment before heaving another sigh and pushing herself off the bed. "Yeah, sure, why not? Tomorrow's Sunday. None of us have anywhere to be, so we can all sleep in."

"You mean today is Sunday," Henry corrected cheekily, indicating the bedside clock. It was just after one in the morning, indeed making it officially Sunday.

"No, I mean tomorrow's Sunday," Emma argued just as cheekily. "I've slept for like, an hour. I have had nowhere near a full night's sleep, which also means I haven't slept enough for Sunday to be today. It's still tomorrow."

David and Snow exchanged an amused grin at their baby girl's view of the space-time continuum.

Emma grabbed her pillow off the bed before heading towards the stairs. "I call dibs on the couch."

Henry fixed his grandparents with a mischievous grin as he hopped off the bed. "This is going to be so much fun," he giggled, his anxiety over the storm already fading at the notion of having a midnight adventure.

Snow and David chuckled as they followed their grandson down the stairs. Even if all they were doing was waiting out a thunderstorm, Henry was clearly thrilled to pieces with the idea of being up in the middle of the night. Emma, on the other hand, was tired, and a tired Emma was a cranky Emma. A cranky Emma could be funny, though; it all depended on the level of her crankiness. "I don't know if fun is the word I would choose," David whispered to his wife, making Snow muffle another giggle behind her hand.

"This is certainly shaping up to be an interesting couple of hours," Snow whispered back.

Henry glanced behind him at his grandparents, who were trying not to laugh, and then ahead of him at his mother, who had tiredly flopped down on the couch. He grinned to himself. Oh yes, the next couple of hours were going to prove to be very interesting indeed.