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“Don’t panic. You can do this.”
It was the day Emma returned to work after birthing their daughter – the first of many where she would be unavailable and Killian would be accountable for their child’s safety.
Emma had always been there to assist her husband in caring for the new member of the Jones family, continuously present to bathe, clean and feed her. But now, he was alone in this perilous mission.
Well, almost alone.
The first hour had gone swimmingly. Killian had sat with his daughter propped up in his lap, cooing away with little fingers wrapped around his hook. All was calm. That is, until he detected a particular odour coming from Aislin’s diaper. Out of panic (he had never been left alone with the one hand to deal with their child’s bodily functions, after all) Killian called the only person he knew he could count on.
David arrived quickly, being told nothing more than there was a crisis upon the Swan-Jones household. He had burst through the door, not even allowing the pirate time to invite him in.
Killian had explained his concerns, to which David’s hand had found his shoulder and clapped it, reassuring, “It’s okay. You’re new to this. I’ll help you.”
"Thanks, mate,” Killian responded, appreciating the moral support in this most difficult time.
"First, unfasten the tabs on either side, then just… open it up.” David made huge hand gestures, to demonstrate the motion of which Killian should unleash the beast.
It was so simple. Killian had helped Emma countless times in changing Aislin, and yet all knowledge of the strange paper nappies had disappeared upon discovery of his fears. David had reminded him, however. He was absolutely fine and had nothing to worry about.
All these easy thoughts evaporated upon opening the diaper. The barbaric stench from before had returned, only this time, it was at full capacity. The revolting fog crept its way up the men’s nostrils, leaving both pulling away and Killian on the brink of collapsing. He closed the dirtied paper up haphazardly.
David turned to him, fixing him with a stare. “You’re 200 years old and yet this is what you fear the most?”
“As I recall, the lady Snow had alike difficulties with you upon the wee prince’s arrival.”
“Pot meet kettle, Hook.”
But the worst wasn’t over. Once David had gathered a firm grip on his son-in-law, both exchanging a look to say that they were ready to continue, they returned to the task at hand and Killian once again revealed the package left for him by his dear flesh and blood.
“… Is it supposed to be that shade of yellow?” Killian mumbled. Both ducked down again, faces inching closer and closer to the new-born. Something else had clearly been created by the little one, however, as both evacuated the danger zone in unison, faces twisting and distorting, as if they had sucked on one dozen lemons. Killian gagged and they took several steps back.
“Bloody hell,” Killian ground out, face still distasteful as his daughter cooed, smiling up at him.
“Okay… we need to take some precautions,” David stated, the pair exchanging looks.
Ten minutes later, the bros were suited up for the battle to come.
Killian Jones and David Nolan re-entered the room. The one in which Aislin and the changing table resided.
The men had their nostrils squished by laundry pegs, dish washing gloves upon their hands, and hook, and aprons were strapped to their fronts.
“You know, this get-up suits you, mate.” Killian winked, thumbing the armour strapped to David’s torso.
David winked back. “Let’s do this,” he declared.
~
They were not prepared.
“David!”
“Hook!”
The pair bellowed in terror! Killian darted and dodged the oncoming waves of poop, and quickly they were separated – divided by the poop blast.
“It’s no use! We have to take this head on, together!”
“Are you with me?!”
“Always, mate!”
Awaiting an opening, the bros charged forward, darting and dodging the baby waste, like lasers in a spy movie. Both went for cover, ducking behind the rocking chair and pressing their backs against it. David reached round and recovered two cushions from the chair, keeping one for himself and passing one to Hook.
"Poop proof vest," he stated. After another bro nod, the pair held the cushions in front of their faces and dashed forwards.
~
Five discarded diapers, two changes of shirts and two ruined cushions later, Aislin was branded with a fresh, clean diaper and new onesie - and the baby was very happy.
“There we are, my wee one.” Killian soothed, scooping up his daughter and holding her close to his chest. “All clean for when your mother comes home.”
The pirate struggled to take a soft but secure hold on his child, due to the monster of a diaper they had dressed her with. “She looks like a bloody sea turtle,” he complained, holding his daughter back out to admire the huge mass starting at her rump and continuing round to her back, stretching out her onesie.
“Well, it’s your first go at it. That’s to be expected. You’ll get the hang of it.”
The pirate turned to the prince, eyes earnest and full of gratitude. “David, thank you. There is no one else I would wish to support me through this.”
David nodded, smiling between his son-in-law and granddaughter.
Prepared to join the clean-up of the battle, Emma and Snow chose that moment to enter the house. “I’m back! We brought lunch from Granny’s, if you haven't eaten yet."
Hands full, Emma and Snow entered the room with their boys. Snow deposited the food upon the counter, then joined her husband, frowning as if to silently ask why he was there. Emma went for her daughter. "Hey, baby. Did you have fun with daddy?" She asks, scooping her cygnet up.
"She was good as gold. Though, we did have a few... minor repercussions," Killian told her, scratching the spot behind his ear. Emma tilted her head.
Snow paused, sniffing out the room.
"Do... do I smell urine?"