princehonorable | (no subject)

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snow

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Currently, Charming is occupied in a great and terrible staring bout with a black and white fuzzy creature. His mother had a dog like this when he was little more than a boy, but it's not the same one. The patches are different, for a start, and so is the temperament. The odder thing, of course, is the presence of the dog in his and Snow's bedroom.

And it's staring at him.

"Hello," Charming says warily, tipping his head to one side to see if the dog responds to him. He does little more than give a whine. "Are you supposed to be somewhere? I'd remember if you were mine." Which is almost a joke in and of itself, given that there are still small gaps in his memory, as if fate is holding out one last joke on him. "Snow?" Charming summons. "There's something here you may want to see!"

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He gives a laugh and wraps his arms around her waist, coaxing her into his hold. "No? I mean, I do have thoughts on if it's another girl, but only a middle name since I'd hardly want to burden a little girl with my mother's name. Actually," he admits, wrinkling his nose. "I have thoughts on boys, too."

"I had a feeling you'd already started thinking of names if you were wanting to have another baby," she answers, as the puppy tentatively crawls across their laps and then unceremoniously flops down, his chin resting on Charming's thigh.

"Maybe we're supposed to look after this little guy for a while first."

"Family names, mostly," he admits, thinking of his late mother and his late brother and the family that they could have had, but never did. "Practice?" he echoes, amused. "I remember when we were expecting Emma and we kept trying to practice being parents. We never really got to put that to work."

"Well, we went from a barely newborn infant to a twenty-seven year old woman. I'd say there was no practice involved in that," Snow points out, reaching up to gently tease the small pieces of hair that curl against the back of his neck.

"To a very spirited twenty-seven year old woman," he corrects, given that Emma certainly had inherited some of her qualities from her parents. He leans into Snow's touch, giving a hummed sound. "I'd like to believe we'd be good with an actual infant."

"Oh, I think we'd be naturals," Snow promises, leaning in slightly to brush the faintest kiss across his temple and then lingering there with a gentle nudge of her forehead, closing her eyes.

"Do you think Emma would want a sibling? If - if she knew?"

"I'd like to think so," he admits, adjusting his positioning so he's raised on one elbow as he regards her. "I think she'd like the sibling to be closer in age to her, given how the child would be younger than Henry." He gives a snort and though he only knows the boy through stories, he does know of his age. "That would make Henry the new child's nephew."

"Can you imagine? Poor Henry." Although, all things considered, the boy had been one of the few people who had managed to find out the truth about all of them before they'd even known it about themselves. It doesn't surprise Snow that her grandson is a true believer in their stories, even after being raised under Regina's roof.

"Well, I'd like to be able to introduce them to each other, someday," she decides, nodding once.

"I want that more than anything," Charming says, bridging the gap between them to steal a kiss from Snow's lips, making up for all the times he couldn't. "Well, Snow?" he murmurs fondly, nudging his fingers against her collar. "Shall we begin trying again?"

She chuckles, smiling against his mouth while attempting a kiss - an easier feat suggested than actually performed.

"Now? In front of - " She pulls back just enough to speak and tilts her head in the direction of the puppy.

"I don't think he's going to mind. He's a dog, dear," Charming says, already in the process of easing her into a laying back position with both hands on her hips to gently coax her. "Besides, if he's going to live here, he ought to get used to such noises."

She tips her head back and laughs, letting the dish towel that had been in her hand slip through her fingers to the floor.

"And twenty-seven years is an awfully long time to have to go without."

"I hardly remember it," he confesses, pulling a sheepish grin as he sits back and eases onto all fours to better kiss up and down the breadth of her body. "I suppose that's what happens when you spend it asleep."

"Sleeping is overrated. Take it from someone who has a little experience in that area too," she answers, stretching out on the bed underneath him as she gazes up with a slow smile.

"I think we can use our bed for something else now."

"Suggestions are welcome," he says with an open gesture, grateful for this one moment that there was no one around to interrupt them. He lingers at the jut of her hip, resting his chin there. "You know, I think the kingdom was always so occupied with our true love that they never even considered us capable of such devious things in the bedroom."

"You think I would have them?" she replies, feigning innocence as she clasps a hand against her heart. In the same breath, she lets that hand trail down to comb through his hair in a slow, affectionate gesture.

"And are you capable of such devious things now?"

"I like to think I still remain honorable," he says, with a painfully earnest look on his face as he says the words. "Shall I prove to you how well I can take care of my wife?"

He's so sincere, so genuine that it almost makes her heart hurt a little, and all she can do is beam at him, giving his hair a fond tousle.

"Your wife wishes to see your proving. Possibly many times over."

Charming beams away and makes his way back up her body, kissing her with every ounce of desperation and passion he had once used to wake her from the sleeping spell, but now he busies himself undoing her buttons and casting off her clothing, paying little mind to their furry voyeur. "It'll be just as it was when we were trying for Emma."

"And even then - we didn't have to try very long for her," Snow points out, speaking between kisses as her own hands fly to the buttons on his shirt, peeling it back over his shoulders.

The shyness she'd initially felt on their wedding night about being intimate is now replaced with a giddy excitement, a readiness to be with her husband after so many years apart.

Charming rolls his shoulders back to help in getting his shirt off, divesting himself of his trousers and hurrying to help Snow with hers. "Nothing's in the oven, is it?" he asks in a hurry. "I plan on keeping you occupied all night if I can."

"You're lucky," Snow answers, shaking her head by way of further clarification as she wriggles her hips to assist him, kicking the clothes off the bed with a nudge of her toes.

"I had just planned on starting dinner when you called me in here, so now you have my undivided attention."

"I'm always lucky. You married me," he points out, honest in that assessment of his life. "How could I have ever dreamed of a princess daring to love me, a poor shepherd boy." He brushes a soft kiss to her lips, pushing the last of his clothing off as he looks down on her. "How shall we do this?"

"If it's any consolation, I did think you were a prince at the time," she teases, grinning brightly. "And you were very much convinced that I was a thief in the woods." How time had changed all that, she thinks, letting her hands drift over his body, finding old battle scars under her fingertips. "How do you want me, Charming?" she murmurs, her smile turning coy.

"I think I'd like you on top," he admits, shivering at the touch of her fingertips and the chilly thought of going as long as he had without that. "You're so beautiful in any way, but I love it when you control the situation."