Emma and Neal’s first date in the EF?
“Neal! Could you slow down, maybe?”
Emma glared at the back of his head, trying to hike up the layered skirts of her dress and avoid a branch to the face at the same time. Neal stopped, shooting her a ****-eating grin.
“Sorry, your highness,” he said brightly. She rolled her eyes, holding up her middle finger in a distinctly unprincess-like gesture. He laughed, waiting for her to catch up, holding a couple of mutinous shrubs back from attack.
“Thanks,” she mumbled. “You know, if I had known we were going to take a wilderness hike, I would have raided my mother’s bandit wardrobe, at least.”
As soon as everyone had begun to settle down back in the Enchanted Forest, Snow and David had organized journeys to the villages throughout the kingdom; it should have been weird, all that princess-y checking up on the subjects sort of thing, but it wasn’t— it was sort of like patrolling as sheriff, back in Storybrooke.
Neal coming with probably should have been weird, too. It should have been weird, watching him talk fairytale economics and class systems with Snow, help patch up huts along side David, initiate play sword fights with Henry.
It wasn’t weird. It was weird that it wasn’t weird.
He’d woken up her up early this morning, manic with energy like he used to get back in Portland, when he couldn’t sleep. C’mon, he’d said. Wanna show you something.
And she’d followed, because she hadn’t heard those words in 13 years. Though, in hindsight, she probably should have asked questions first, she thought, scrambling after Neal onto a bank.
He stopped, suddenly, an unreadable expression on his face as he stared out at the ramshackle remains of an abandoned village. Emma followed his gaze, frowning. There was nothing remarkable about it.
“Neal?” she asked. “Where are we?”
“This is where I grew up,” he said, quietly. “Before things got crazy. Pop said it’d probably be abandoned by now— been through more than a couple of wars and all that. I just— I don’t know, I realized we were close. Wanted to see it.”
Emma took a sharp breath— trying not to think too hard about the centuries separating Neal’s childhood from this moment, because their lives were weird enough, thanks.
“Hey,” she said, nudging him a little. “Show me?”
He nodded, smiling almost shyly before leading her into the village. He stopped in front of what looked like it may have been a small hut, once.
“This is it,” he mumbled, nodding. “Back there, we used to keep sheep, and Papa used to spin the wool inside. We only had the one room, but it was just him and me, anyway. Wasn’t much, but—”
“It was home,” Emma finished for him, quietly.
“Yeah. It was,” he said, kicking at the ground absently. “Once. Guess I really can’t go back.
“You don’t have to,” Emma said, sharply. Neal turned back to look at her, a confused look on his face. “Your dad and Belle are back at his castle. Henry’s here,” she took a sharp breath. “I’m…here.”
Neal smiled, slowly nodding. “Guess I don’t have to miss anything, huh?”
“Yeah,” Emma said, quietly, smiling a little back. “Guess you don’t.”