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“Alright, love, I think I’ve got it,” Killian murmured, his eyes trained mindlessly on the television as he and Emma laid on their couch.
It would be a quiet night for the two of them, as their rambunctious three-year-old would be spending the evening with her grandparents and uncle. Snow and David offered to take Hope for the day, knowing it would be one filled with doctor visits. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t already miss the sound of her laughter filling their home.
Emma slightly turned her head towards him, “What?”
“A name for our boy. I think you’ll adore it.”
It had been a little over four months since they had found out they were expecting again, a surprise to them both. Though, if he was honest, he’d have a hundred children with Emma if he could.
He had a feeling she wouldn’t appreciate that idea as much.
Their ascent into new parenthood hadn’t come without its hiccups. Henry had been ten when he waltzed into Emma’s life, and not much older when Killian became his stepfather. He made their jobs incredibly easy.
Hope had been another story. She was everything those damn parenting books told him an infant would be. She kept her parents up all night, sometimes crying without reason, and effectively breaking their hearts. Not to mention, she could be downright stubborn, even as a newborn.
That must have come from her mother.
Oh, but he wouldn’t trade those moments for the world. He and Emma had figured it all out together.
Every second their little girl was in his life made everything that had come before her worth it.
Now, they would be having another, a boy this time.
Killian’s heart swelled at the thought of Emma holding their newborn son, surrounded by their family.
Five more months.
“Oh, really?” Emma turned on the sofa so that they were face to face, her eyebrows raised.
“What’s that? Sounds like doubt to me, Swan.”
“Well, being that you couldn’t come up with a single name for Hope and now you’ve already got one a few hours after we find out we’re going to have a son, can you blame me?” She retorted.
He gaped, “Let’s be fair now, darling. Hers was the first name you came out with, and it’s bloody difficult to follow that up when it’s the one thing our lives have revolved around for years.”
“Okay, I’ll let you slide. Let me guess, though,” Emma laughed, “Davey.”
“What? No. What a ridiculous name,” he scoffed.
“My father is David. It’s not far off,” she poked, a gleam of humor in her eyes.
“Aye, and there’s a bloody good reason no one calls him that.”
“Relax, I’m just pulling your hook,” Emma ran her hand down the side of his face, “What is it?”
Killian smiled proudly, “Westley.”
“What?” She questioned, brows furrowed.
“Westley. You know, from that movie you love so much,” he explained.
There was not a chance pregnancy brain could have stripped that memory from her. They’d only watched it together a hundred times, and he was sure Emma had seen it a hundred more on top of that.
He’d never say it aloud, but he loved that movie himself. Much of it felt like looking in a mirror.
“No, I know where it’s from,” she laughed lightly, “You really like that name, though? Seems a little modern for your thousand-year-old standards.”
“Hilarious,” Killian shot back, “but I was thinking, and Westley was a pirate, which is befitting.”
“You were a pirate? I had no idea.”
Rolling his eyes, he went on, “He was good and noble, as well. If our son had that name paired with those qualities and ends up being just as devilishly handsome as his father, I’d say we’re setting him up quite nicely.”
She didn’t say anything in return at first. Instead, she observed him with a small smile, brushing her thumb over his cheek.
“Emma?” He prodded.
She leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips, “I’ve always loved that name.”
“It’s good, then?”
“Killian,” she sighed with a smile, “I can’t picture calling him anything else.”
He pulled his face into a crooked grin, “It seems I’ve bested you in the baby naming area this time then, haven’t I?”
“I guess you can say the score is even now,” Emma relented.
“Oh, well, we can’t have that,” he feigned disappointment, “I suppose that only leaves one option.”
Emma quirked one eyebrow, “And what would that be?”
“To make another, of course,” Killian joked, wiggling his own eyebrows at his wife, “You know, only to settle the score and such.”
She broke into a grin, “Let’s get this one out of me first and then we’ll talk,” her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, “I would never say no to a little practice, though.”
“I hope you remember that a few months from now,” he teased with a wink.
Emma exaggerated an eye roll, “Just shut up and kiss me.”
“Aye, love,” he smirked back, “as you wish.”