cssecretsanta2020

[cssecretsanta2020]

Santas Last Christmas

And with our finale gift given ends my era of running Captain Swan Secret Santa.

I took over this event after only participating in it twice myself and having never run an event before. I had no idea of all the stress and challenges that came with it. But it was an experience I will soon not forget.

If anyone is willing to take over please let me know! I don't wish to see this event go but I know I cannot be responsible for it anymore.

Thank you to all the participants Santas and helper a like without you this event wouldn't happen.

[cssecretsanta2020]

The wait was well worth it for our finale gift of this event. A truly incredible story that leaves us in anticipation for the next part

CS AU: Sleeps Ten, My Ass (1/2)

Summary: It's become tradition for Emma Swan to spend the holidays with her brother, their cousins, and their families. This Christmas was no different. The group booked a four night stay at a cozy mountain cabin to celebrate. The listing said it sleeps ten, but upon arrival they discover a small issue. The listing was wrong and now Emma and Killian Jones, the only two single people within their group, have to spend the next four nights sharing a bed. Fortunately... they've shared a bed before.

A/N: @eastwesthomeisbest it is I, your CS Secret Santa! Thank you for being so patient and understanding! I'm sorry I couldn't post this sooner, but between the normal busyness of the holidays and my entire family coming down with Covid, finding time to write was a struggle. I hope you find this worth the wait. It was lovely hearing about your traditions and I hope you had a fantastic holiday!

Thanks to @kmomof4 for looking this over for me and to the @cssecretsanta2020 for once again hosting a fantastic event. Side note, this fic also completes my Only One Bed: Holiday Edition CS Winter Bingo square!

Rated eventual E / Also available on ao3 / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me!

Part One

She was late. Super late. Incredibly late. Late enough that she was certain her brother had already called the cops to report her missing. Late enough that it was already pitch black on the back mountain road, forcing her to drive at a creeping speed so she didn’t careen off the side of a cliff, which was making her even more late.

In her defense, they should all have expected that she’d be late. She was always late. Every dinner, every holiday get together, every vacation, every celebration, Emma Swan was always notoriously late.

Not because she didn’t want to spend time with her family. Far from. She just… wasn’t always in control over her own schedule. Bail bonds and bounty hunting wasn’t exactly a 9 to 5 gig, and when a mark finally crawled out of whatever hole in which he (it was more often than not a he) had hid himself away through some dumbass attempt to avoid the consequences of his own dumbass actions, well… many times it meant a change in her plans.

Was it annoying? Yes.

Did she make sure to take out that frustration on the perp? Also, yes.

Was it even worse for the offender when he made her late for the Christmas get-together her cousin Elsa had planned for them all - a four night stay at a picturesque mountain cabin big enough to sleep three married couples and two singles with amenities that would keep them cozy and content over the holiday? Oh, yes.

Big. Fat. Yes.

To go with the big fat payout she needed in order to pay her portion of said holiday getaway.

Rounding another winding corner, the soft glow of the illuminated cabin stirred a strange mix of sensations in her chest; a swirl of relief at nearly being there and panic over what was awaiting her inside. Parking her bug next to the vehicles that signalled she was indeed the last to arrive, Emma fortified herself for a moment before exiting the vehicle, grabbing her bag, and marching up to the cabin as though she were about to face a firing squad.

David, her brother, and Liam, Elsa’s husband, would likely scold her with their hands firmly planted on their hips or their arms crossed tightly over their chests. The rebukes would be drowned out by David’s wife, Mary Margaret, and Elsa’ sister, Anna, who would both rush at Emma and force her into claustrophobic hugs while they expressed their worry and relief, offering Emma a blanket, a place by the fire, a plate of food, a cup of tea, all without taking a breath between them as Anna’s husband, Kristoff, tried to tell the women to let Emma breathe and get settled.

The only one who would not be making a fuss would likely already have a drink ready for her, a knowing smirk teasing his lips as he tried to stifle an eye roll at the group’s overreaction.

Killian Jones. Liam’s brother and the only other single member of their group.

Hand on the doorknob, Emma took a deep breath and opened the door to the expected chaos. And chaos there was, but… none of it seemed to be about her and her tardiness.

Elsa and David were in the kitchen. One of their phones, clearly on speaker, was held between them as they argued with whoever was on the other end of the line. Liam and Kristoff were seated at the dining table with a laptop open, the elder Jones frantically typing and clicking as Kristoff scrolled on his phone with a furrowed brow.

“There’s nothing up here that could be used as an extra one,” Anna called out from the top of the stairs. “Mary Margaret and I have looked through all the closets and checked all the furniture.”

None of them had noticed her presence yet, and she was about to say something when heavy boot falls sounded from the porch behind her.

“Ah, Swan. You arrived in one piece then?” Killian said cheekily with an arm full of firewood.

“Uh, yeah,” she replied, setting her bag down so she could help with the load he was carrying. “Sorry I’m late.”

“No worries,” he assured her, making his way to the fireplace and stacking their logs beside the hearth. “You missed the initial excitement, but you’ve made it in time to witness the spiral everyone has since descended into.” Emma glanced around the cabin at the said spiral, wondering what had set everyone off as Killian added a couple of logs to the fire, then grabbed the poker so he could stoke it. “I told them I’d make do on the couch, or even a pallet on the floor, but--”

“Sleeps ten, my ass!” Elsa shouted as she angrily hung up the call. “They swapped out the couch and forgot to update the listing!”

“What?” Emma said, but no one other than Killian seemed to have heard her, or even realized she was there.

“That’s ridiculous!” Liam bellowed. “What do they plan to do about it?”

“Can they bring an air mattress or cot?” Kristoff asked, still scrolling through his phone. “Because none of the local stores seem to have one, and even if they did, they’d be closed by the time we got back to town.”

Killian stepped away from the fire he’d coaxed back to life and into the metaphorical one building at the kitchen island where the rest of their group - save for Emma - had gathered.

“I already told you, the couch will be fine.”

“Don’t be silly, Killian,” Anna replied. “Have you seen that couch? It’s far too narrow and your feet are gonna dangle off the end.”

“Then the floor will suit me--”

“For the amount of money we spent renting this place, you are not sleeping on the floor,” Elsa declared. “I cannot believe this! How could they make a mistake like that?”

“What did the owner say?” Mary Margaret asked, setting out a platter of food she’d removed from the fridge and encouraging everyone to eat something… as though snacking would somehow fix the issue. An issue Emma still wasn’t sure was the cause of everyone’s upset.

“He won’t do anything,” Elsa snapped. “He said they had to replace the couch, which had been a sleeper, and apparently forgot to update the listing, but didn’t see the problem since we only have eight people, not ten, and there are four king size beds.”

“Didn’t you explain that there weren’t four couples, though?”

“Oh, she did,” David interjected. “But the man didn’t seem to care about anything other than getting back to his tropical Christmas vacation.”

“So what do we do?” Anna asked. “Where is Killian gonna sleep?”

“He and I can just share the bed.”

Seven heads collectively snapped in her direction, a mixture of shock and surprise being directed her way as her family, for the first time, realized she was there and then computed her words.

Words she would later blame on the fact that although no one seemed bothered by the fact she was late, she still felt the need to make up for it and therefore was compelled to offer a solution to the problem, even if said solution meant sharing a bed with a man she absolutely did not have feelings for and no one would convince her otherwise, not even her own treacherous heart, and thereby torturing herself for the next several days.

“Are you sure, love?” Killian asked, his eyes scrutinizing her, looking for any hint that she might be regretting the offer and wished to back out. “I wouldn’t want you to do anything you weren’t completely comfortable with.”

“Are you planning to make it uncomfortable for her?” David asked in his overly protective, brotherly tone. “Because I’m warning you--”

“Warning him?” Liam braced his hands against the top of the island and leaned over it, staring David down as he asked, “Are you insinuating my brother is some sort of cad who would take advantage of--”

“We all know Killian’s reputation.”

“Okay,” Emma interjected before things could escalate further. “I think you’re all forgetting that I have a reputation, too. Of being able to take care of myself. Besides, I trust Killian. We’re both adults. There’s no reason for either of us to sleep on a couch or the floor when there is a perfectly good bed, big enough for us to share. So…” She marched back over to where she’d dropped her bag and collected it as she continued on, “If you don’t mind. I’ve had a long day and all I want right now is a shower and some sleep.” Directing her gaze to Killian she asked, “Where’s your stuff?”

“It’s uh…” he began, scratching behind his ear as he furtively cast a glance towards David. “It’s on the landing.”

“Great,” she said, turning towards the stairs. “Grab it on your way up so you can settle in while I shower.”

“Emma,” Mary Margaret called out. “Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat or--”

“I’m fine,” Emma answered back halfway up the stairs. “I’ll see you all in the morning.” Looking over her shoulder, she saw Killian hesitate at the bottom step. “Are you coming?”

“Aye,” he answered, following after her two steps at a time and grabbing his duffle before slipping into the room behind her.

Tossing his bag onto the bed, he glanced around the room and inquired one last time, “You’re certain you’re okay with this, Swan?”

“Yes, Jones,” Emma replied in an exasperated tone she hoped masked the nerves currently coursing through her. After gathering up her toiletry items, she straightened and faced him, a thought suddenly occurring to her. “Unless… You are uncomfortable with it and would rather--”

“No, no,” he insisted, his shoulders relaxing and his usual cocky demeanor coming forward. “It’s not that,” he said in a cheeky and slightly taunting tone.

“What is it then?” Emma asked, trying hard to not be taken in by his charm as he swaggered towards her.

“Well, I seem to remember you saying something about it being a one time thing the last time we shared a bed,” he crooned, twisting a section of her hair around his finger. “Seems you’ll have to eat those words now.”

Emma wet her lips and tried to squash the delighted feeling surging through her at the way his eyes dropped to follow the motion. “Bad form bringing up our… what did you call it?” she asked in a mocking tone as she cocked her head to one side. “Our dalliance?” He winced at her terrible attempt to mimic his accent and they both chortled as she reminded him, “I thought we agreed to never speak of that night again.”

“You’re right, Swan. Bad form indeed,” he conceded in a soft timbre. “My apologies, love.”

He backed away and retreated to the other side of the room where he made himself busy unpacking his duffle. “Go ahead and shower, Swan,” he said. “I’ll hop in after you.”

“Thanks,” she threw out over her shoulder as she shut herself in the bathroom, suddenly very eager to have a bit of separation from him. From him and the memory of that night. The night they had shared a bed - and a whole lot more - with one another after copious amounts of alcohol and hours on a dance floor somewhere in the Caribbean during the cruise they’d all taken together earlier that year to celebrate Liam and Elsa’s wedding.

A memory that stubbornly refused to be cast aside, making for a very long shower - a fitful, highly inappropriate shower - especially considering the man she’d been fixated on was in the next room, waiting on her to finish so he could get naked and wet and…

Dear God, Emma. Get a grip!

Emerging from the bathroom, adorned in her pajamas with her wet hair wrapped in a towel, Emma hoped the red in her cheeks would be chalked up to the heat of the shower and not because her fantasies had gotten away from her.

“All yours,” she said, pulling her hair dryer out of her bag and plugging it into the wall at the makeshift vanity.

She combed through the wet strands as Killian hovered at the doorway to the bathroom. Pausing her actions, she stared up at him expectantly, trying not to remember what he looked like shirtless.

“About before,” he said, his voice deep with an edge of concern. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable by bringing up that night, I just…” He left out a heavy breath and ran his hand through his hair. “I was just trying to bring a bit of levity to an otherwise tense situa--”

“Killian,” she said, waving him off. “It’s fine. Really. You didn’t upset me by bringing it up.” Shrugging, she tried to give off a sense of nonchalance about the whole thing. “It happened. We’ve both moved on from it. No big deal.”

“Right,” he said with a bit of a drawl. “Well… I’ll try not to take too long, so as to not keep you up.” Glancing towards the bed, he said, “I hope it’s okay that I took that side. I didn’t know if you had one you preferred.”

Emma turned to see which side he’d taken. Not that it mattered.

“Honestly,” she answered, “I don’t really have one. It’s not like I share my bed often enough with anyone to develop a preference.”

“Aye. Same,” he replied with that adorable lopsided smile of his.

Emma’s heart fluttered for several seconds after he disappeared into the bathroom. He didn’t often share his bed? Really? Like David had said earlier, Killian had a bit of a reputation as a ladies’ man. It was one of the reasons she’d pulled back after their night together; she’d hated being just another notch on his bedpost.

How many notches had he added since her, she wondered.

She had plenty of time to contemplate that question. It wasn’t until well after she’d dried her hair, set her alarm, and settled under the covers that Killian emerged from the bathroom. The last drowsy thought Emma had was whether he’d taken advantage of the memory of them together to help let off some steam whilst he was in the shower like she had. She didn’t get a chance to dwell on the thought, though. The tiring day had caught up to her and sleep took over the moment she felt the bed dip beside her.

~/~

“Morning, Emma! Sleep well?”

Anna’s voice was far too perky for the current early morning hour, causing Emma to grimace as she shuffled past the red headed woman on her way to the kitchen.

“Oh, sorry,” Anna whispered, tiptoeing behind her. “Coffee? I just brewed a fresh pot.”

“Please,” Emma grumbled, slumping down onto one of the barstools at the island. “A fresh pot? How early did you get up?”

“Mary Margaret and I got up with the guys,” she said, pouring Emma a cup, then placing it and a tray of fixings on the counter top in front of her. “We wanted to make sure they got a good meal and some coffee before they headed out.”

Emma nodded her understanding, adding enough sugar to her cup that it would have earned her a disgusted look from Killian had he been there and not out traipsing through the woods with an axe. It was an annual tradition at this point. For the past five years - ever since the Jones brothers had entered their lives through Liam and Elsa’s courtship - the guys went out on Christmas Eve morning and cut down a tree for them to decorate. While they were out finding the perfect specimen, Mary Margaret would lead - or in Emma’s case, berate - the girls in making the decorations. The guys would join in once they got back and set up the tree, and the day would be spent stringing popcorn or dried oranges or cranberries for garland as well as attempting to avoid tiny cuts from the origami-esque construction of paper or cardboard ornaments.

There were also snacks and cocktails, the occasional break from crafting to watch a Christmas movie or play a game. Of course, every year, Emma and Killian would insist they watch Die Hard, which Mary Margaret would dismiss as not being a Christmas movie and an argument would ensue - mostly because it gave both Emma and Killian a perverse sense of pleasure to rile up Mary Margaret. Not that they didn’t love the movie or wholeheartedly believe that it was, in fact, a Christmas movie.

“Oh, Emma! You’re up!” Mary Margaret set down a stack of boxes on the island, the contents of which held various crafting supplies no doubt. “Did you get some breakfast?”

Emma shook her head and waved off the woman’s attempt to feed her. “Not yet,” she said. “I’ll get something after I’m sufficiently caffeinated.”

“Well drink up,” Mary Margaret ordered as she began to retreat back into the room she and David were using. “We need to get going on these decorations.”

A moment later she returned with several sacks and with Anna’s help, began organizing the supplies. Emma took that as her cue to find another place to enjoy her coffee.

Glancing out the French doors that led to the back deck she caught sight of a platinum blonde braid. Emma grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and wrapped it around her shoulders before joining Elsa in the peace and quiet of the mountain morning.

“Hey,” she said, pulling Elsa’s attention away from the view. “Mind if I join you?”

“Please do,” Elsa replied, making room on the bench. “Do you want me to turn on the heater?”

It shouldn’t have surprised Emma that her cousin hadn’t already started the propane heater. The cold had never seemed to bother her like it did Emma.

“No, I’ve got it.” Emma cranked up the heat then sat down, snuggling into the blanket she’d brought out with her.

“Sleep okay?” Elsa asked. “Any problems with the room?”

“No,” Emma answered, taking a sip of her coffee before adding, “The room’s great. Very comfortable.”

“Good,” Elsa said, turning her attention back towards the snowy mountain view. “And sharing with Killian? That, uh… Did that go okay?”

Emma rolled her eyes and hid her knowing smirk behind her mug. “It was fine,” she replied.

“I mean, I’m sure Killian was a gentleman, I just hate that the two of you have to endure this awkwardness when I did my best to--”

“Elsa,” Emma interrupted. “It isn’t your fault, and we will make do. It’s fine. Really.”

The icy blonde’s shoulders relaxed and a puff of exhaled air lingered at her lips for a moment before she said, “Good. I’m glad.” With a furtive glance in Emma’s direction she muttered, “Let’s just hope David thinks it's all fine.”

“I’m a big girl,” Emma reminded her cousin. “David will get over it.”

“I don’t know,” Elsa replied in a sing-song tone. “He was looking pretty hostile this morning when Killian sauntered down the stairs with a whistle on his lips. I’m pretty sure Liam made sure to be the one who took the axe when they left.”

The two women shared a chuckle, both of them knowing full well there was no danger of the men resorting to violence, even if they did bluster a bit.

“I’m sure Killian is reveling in the opportunity to needle David, but I trust Liam to make sure cooler heads prevail.”

“And his needling wouldn’t have any elements of truth in it, right?” Elsa inquired, not so subtly.

Emma sighed exasperatedly. “No,” she stated adamantly. “Nothing happened, and nothing is going to happen.”

She shifted uncomfortably under Elsa’s scrutiny, her piercing blue eyes cutting through her assertions as she hummed a dubious sound.

“If you say so.”

Emma was about to double down on her words, but was cut off by Anna’s sudden appearance.

“Everything is ready! Come make decorations with us!”

Emma and Elsa shared a resigned look then followed Anna back into the cabin, after shutting off the heater, of course. The ladies then spent the next hour or so making handmade decorations whilst also prepping food items for the upcoming meals.

When the guys returned, Emma stayed out of the way. She’d learned from years past to just let David, Liam, Mary Margaret, and Elsa duke it out on the best way to set up the tree. While the four of them conferenced in the living room, she joined Anna in the kitchen, who was busy making everyone a hot cocoa.

“Need a hand?”

“Yes, please!”

The two women filled and garnished mugs of hot cocoa while every so often peeking outside to watch Kristoff and Killian clean up the tree. Once it was suitable for indoors - and they’d gotten the final word of where to set it up - the men brought it inside and secured it in the stand. Everyone stood back to admire the magnificent find as Emma and Anna handed out the beverages.

“Jones,” Emma said, offering him a hot cup as she came to stand beside him.

“Thank you, love,” he replied, slightly out of breath. A half-smile pulled at his lips and crinkled at the corner of his eyes when he noticed she’d adorned his in the same manner as hers - with whipped cream and a sprinkle of cinnamon. It was how she’d always taken her cocoa and slowly but surely she was converting the rest of their group to do the same.

“It’s a great looking tree,” she commented, sipping her hot chocolate nonchalantly so he wouldn’t read too much into her compliment.

“Aye,” he said, taking another long look at the fruit of his and the other men’s labor. A fruit that was quickly filling the living room with a pungent pine scent that tickled Emma’s sinuses. “And what of your efforts?” he asked, turning his attention onto her. “Care to show me what you lasses have been working on and how I might assist?”

Emma rolled her eyes and led him to the dining table where he prompted her to give him a demonstration of the crafting. Soon, the others joined them and the day went on just as Emma knew it would: completing the decorations, stringing lights and garlands, decorating the tree, gorging themselves on a big meal, partaking in snacks, then some drinks, then some more drinks, and arguing over then watching several Christmas themed movies and shows. Unfortunately, no Die Hard.

“You know, Swan,” Killian whispered in her ear as everyone began to disperse from the living room to turn in for the night. “We have a TV with streaming services in our room…”

The feel of his breath against the shell of her ear, as well as the way he said ‘our room’ sent a thrill up her spine.

Fortunately, he didn’t seem to notice.

Was it fortunate?

“Your point?” she said, her voice a little too breathy, but maybe he’d think it was because they’d just climbed the steep steps to the second floor.

“My point,” he continued, following her into their - THE - room, “is once we’ve showered and readied ourselves, we can watch Die Hard in bed and celebrate the season properly.”

“Sounds like a plan, Jones,” she replied, even as her heart skipped a few beats at the reminder they’d both be taking turns getting naked and wet with only a flimsy door that did not lock between them.

Ever the gentleman, Killian let her go first. While he took his turn, she busied herself with getting ready for bed, queuing up the movie, and adding an extra blanket to the stack of covers. In no time, they were settled on their respective sides of the bed, enjoying watching John McClane run around Nakatomi Plaza barefoot whilst being a ‘fly in the ointment’ to Hans Gruber.

They both barely remained conscious, but somehow got to the credits before crashing. The constant recitation of dialogue probably helped.

At some point in the night, a rustling sound in the corner of the room stirred Emma. Instinctively, she reached over to feel for Killian, only to find his side of the bed empty.

“Killian?” she croaked out, his name heavy on her tongue from sleep. “What are you--”

“The heat went out,” he told her, making her aware of her own shivering and the frigid air of the room. “Elsa is having kittens over it,” he went on to explain. “Giving the owner a right earful as we speak.”

A low hum and soft glow began to fill the room. Killian stood and visibly shook himself before heading back to bed.

“What’s that?” Emma asked, shifting in bed and moving closer to the middle.

“Space heater,” Killian answered, still shivering from the cold. “The owner relented and gave us the code to the storage closet. There were a few of these in there.”

Emma hummed in response, her mind weighing whether to bring up the idea of--

“Swan?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you mind if we… that is,” he hedged, clearing his throat. “Until the heater manages to raise the temperature, would you be okay if we…”

“Sure,” she said, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically as she scooted closer to him.

“Thank you, love,” he murmured, his chest already plastered against her back and his face buried in the crook of her neck.

Emma moaned in relief, the heat of his body already warming her and staying the chills that had made her tense. In an effort to find a comfortable position for her legs - without entangling them with his - she rocked her hips back into his and felt…

“Bloody hell,” Killian grumbled in an embarrassed tone as he pulled away. “Apologies, Swan. I didn’t intend--”

“Killian,” she laughed, rolling over to face him. “It’s fine. It happens. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

“I just don’t want you to think I have ulterior motives for suggesting--”

“I don’t,” she assured him. “I know guys can’t always control… that.”

“Well, I am usually much more in control of such things, I assure you.”

“I’m sure you are,” she said in an appeasing tone, earning her a side-eyed glare. “Seriously, though,” she continued, trying to coax him back to her. “Your morning wood doesn’t offend me, so will you please come back here.”

He relented after some not so gentle tugging, and a moment later they were once again entwined in the other’s arms.

“Mmmm,” Emma hummed, nestling a bit further into his chest. “How are you always so warm? I feel like I’m always cold.”

As Emma drifted off to sleep she was certain she heard him say, “I know, love. But I’ll always be here for you when you need to keep warm.”

Part Two - Coming Soon!

Tagging the Curious Crew: (add to tag list)

(Please be advised that I only keep one tag list for all fic updates and new works. If at any time you wish to be removed, just shoot me an ask or a DM. No worries.)

@kmomof4 @jrob64 @zaharadessert @laianely @booksteaandtoomuchtv

@the-darkdragonfly @undercaffinatednightmare @killianxswan @mie779 @motherkatereloyshipper

@jennjenn615 @jonesfandomfanatic @anmylica @superchocovian @caught-in-the-filter

@winterbaby89 @wyntereyez @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @gingerchangeling

@exhaustedpirate @cocohook38 @donteattheappleshook @lfh1226-linda @teamhook

@jackieorioncat @paradiselady19 @snowbellewells @earanemith @ultraluckycatnd

@pirateherokillian @calmjoonie @unworried-corsair @tiganasummertree @captainswan-kellie

@soniccat @kday426 @djlbg @fairytalepretzkle @maggiegreenvt

@natascha-ronin @ilovemesomekillianjones @iamstartraveller776 @deckerstarblanche @shadowsaur

@qualitycoffeethings @idristardis @phoenix-untamed @bluewildcatfanatic @bananachickens

[cssecretsanta2020]

This is a stunning gif set!

Emma Swan, a capable and strong-willed 21st-century woman, travels to Scotland in search of her birth parents. Her journey takes an unexpected turn when she witnesses a mysterious ritual. Wanting to investigate further, she heads to the house nearby. Upon entering, she's suddenly transported back in time to 1743. There she meets the dashing Highland warrior, Killian Jones, to whom Emma finds herself being drawn.

-CS Outlander!AU

Surprise, surprise, @cocohook38 !! I'm your @cssecretsanta2020 !!! It has been great talking to you and I really hope you like this and you're not disappointed! As I promised, I will also post a little graphic to go along with this gifset!

[cssecretsanta2020]

This is such an adorable moment!

Slice Of Life

A Captain Swan & Captain Cobra fanfic, written for @pirateprincessofpizza for @cssecretsanta2020.

Rated: General

Words: 6,000+ (I knoowww, I'm sorry 🙈)

Author's Note: Merry Christmas, Pirate! I'm SO SORRY this is a few days late. 🙃 Forgive me. I hope the fact that it's so darn long helps soften the blow of its lateness. This is actually going to be part one of a series I'd like to do, completely inspired by your username/enduring admiration for pizza, as well as your desire for more "slice of life" scenes, surrounding different points in Emma and Killian's relationship as it grows through the seasons. Each story will feature pizza in some way or another, because pizza is great, despite what other pirates might think to the contrary. 👀

Anyway!! Merry (belated) Christmas, my dear! I loved getting to know you through our long messages, and I hope you find this fic to be at least semi heart warming. I had fun writing it, and I look forward to continuing it with a second chapter set in the 6-week era of peace in S4. 👀👀

This one is set during season 3B, with Emma trying to juggle having a good relationship with her son and make an attempt at normal in the times of the Wicked Witch--by having a shared dinner with Captain Hook, obviously. Set some evening post-Neal's death but before poor Killian has his lips cursed.

AO3 link here if that's easier ✌��

+++

Life is made up of moments, her father had once told her. Good ones. Bad ones. But they're all worth living. 

And this, right here? This is a good moment. 

The town, for once, is quiet. 

No new flying monkey bite victims. Nothing from the Wicked Witch. And while all nefarious villains are undoubtedly planning and plotting more nefarious deeds, tonight, Emma Swan does not care about any of that. (She doesn't even sort of care.) 

What she cares about is the black-clad, self-proclaimed scoundrel sitting across from her whose more nefarious days seem to be tucked away behind him for safe keeping. The black-clad scoundrel currently looking at her like a confused puppy, slight head tilt included. 

"And what, pray tell, is pizza?" he asks, as he reaches for his mug of beer. Granny's been trying out a few new brews on tap (that Emma is pretty sure some of the dwarves have been concocting illegally, but she doesn't have the mental capacity to check into that any further at present) and has roped Killian into taste testing one of them for her.  Killian, never one to see a lady in peril, needed no arm twisting and was happy to oblige. "I gather it's valuable in this realm, if you would stoop to homicide to attain a slice of it." 

Sometimes she truly can't tell if he's messing with her, when he talks like that. The internal lie detector she'd developed as a child to tell when another foster parent or sibling was bullshitting her, then honed as an adult to tell when even worse people were bullshitting her, sometimes gets a little fuzzy around this particular man. (Or she quite possibly gets distracted by his face and the way he tends to stand so close to her. Who’s to say, really.)  It's what she would blame, if pressed, for why she left him up on that beanstalk oh so long ago.

(Which is something she is very grateful he has never brought up again.) 

It's definitely not the fact that he stands so much farther into her personal bubble than literally anyone else on the planet, or the fact that he watches her with those insanely intense eyes of his, gaze fixed on her in that knowing way like he not only sees her, but he gets her, reads her like a book sitting out and open on a coffee table. It's incredibly unnerving. But what's even more unnerving is how she is finding that the longer she knows him, the less she really seems to mind. 

Sometimes, she feels like he stepped straight out of a Jane Austen novel, when he talks like that, and she can't tell if he's hamming it up on purpose. She's very well aware he's not from this time, or realm, or whatever. She never actually forgets that—how could she?—but she almost forgets, sometimes. Until moments like now, when he's staring at her like a quizzical puppy. A puppy who apparently doesn't know what pizza is. 

There's a little bit of beer foam on his upper lip, caught in his mustache, which she's always noticed is just a little darker, just a little more pronounced than the rest of the stubble dusting his jawline. She's wondered before if that's where the silly mustache comes from, on the cartoon version of Captain Hook from the Peter Pan cartoon. (Not that Emma has spent an inordinate amount of time admiring the artfulness of his facial hair, God no. And there's definitely no intrusive thoughts of licking said beer foam off his upper lip, no, definitely not. That's never happened to her before and it's definitely not happening now.)

All she'd said, grumbled beneath her breath as she stared at the menu she had memorized, was that she'd kill for a decent slice of pizza right about now. A perfectly normal bit of hyperbole. 

His bright eyes dance, trained on her as they so often are, but the hint of a smirk pushing at his lips is masked by his mug as he takes a sip of his beer. He licks his lip, and just like that, the foam is gone, and takes with it the distraction it was causing her. 

"Wait, hold on, back up,” she says, as if finally registering the words he’d actually said.  “You've seriously never had pizza before?" She's not sure why it surprises her, really. Nothing should surprise her by now. But pizza? Come on. Everybody’s had pizza. 

He just raises his eyebrows at her. "It's some form of food, I gather?"

She huffs a little laugh. "Yes, it's food." 

It's at that moment that Henry reappears from his trip to the bathroom and slides in next to her. Something in her heart clicks back into place as he tucks in next to her. "What's food? Did you order something yet? I'm starving." 

"You heard the lad," Hook says, and something in Emma's heart tugs like a bite on a fishing line at the way his eyes soften as he looks at her son. "What will it be, Swan? This pizza that has you so up in arms and calling for blood?" He says "pizza" like he's trying the word out, two distinct syllables that sound foreign to him. 

Henry just blinks up at him, and Emma explains, "He's never had pizza before." 

Her son's eyes bug out in unfiltered shock. "What?" 

"I know," Emma says, in a what-can-you-do sort of tone, as she reaches across and snags Hook's mug of beer from him. She can feel him watching her, and she pointedly does not look back at him as she takes a sip from it. The home brew is thick, and hoppy, and.... Emma smacks her lips a few times. "That's actually... not bad." 

Hook shrugs with one shoulder. "I've certainly had worse." 

"I've never seen you drink something that wasn't out of your flask," she comments wryly. 

With one fluid motion, he reaches across their table and steals his mug back from her, taking another sip. Kissing, her brain blurts out for thankfully only her to hear. Share a drink and it's like you're kissing was the old playground tease from her childhood. Eagerly and yet very unhelpfully, her brain then supplies her with an image of the first time she'd kissed this particular man, in a hot, sweaty, evil magic jungle, and something low in her stomach bursts open like a big, hot balloon. Get it together, Swan, she chides herself. 

Thankfully, Hook doesn't seem to notice that she's having an internal error of some kind, and simply says, "Contrary to popular opinion, Swan, I'm actually a fairly well traveled and well rounded individual with many refined tastes." 

"If you say so.” She finds herself leaning a little closer to him as his foot bumps hers beneath the table. 

"But you've never had pizza before?" Henry asks, still so very very confused about how on earth someone can just go about life never having eaten his favorite food before. Stumped, Killian just stares at the boy, frowning slightly. Emma comes in for the save. 

"Well, then, let's change that tonight, shall we?" she says, with a can-do attitude rivaling that of her mother. "That settles it. Let's order a pizza." Her flicks to Hook. "Unless you had other plans for dinner?" 

"I am at your beck and call tonight, my lady," he says, and though the innuendo in his tone is only mildly implied for the sake of her son sitting across from him, Emma still can't help but roll her eyes. 

"Can we get fries?" Henry asks hopefully, and Emma can't help but smile at him. 

"I was thinking onion rings. But sure, kid. Fries it is." 

"Get both," Hook suggests casually. "Dinner's on me." 

"No, it's fine," Emma insists, "I got it."

"It makes no difference to me, love." 

"Do you even have money?" She's never stopped to think about it before, how he's getting around, how he's been paying for a room here or what he's been using to buy food. It's such an obvious question, and yet she's never thought to ask him. 

"You have no idea what the exchange rate is for gold in this town," he says simply, as he takes another sip of his beer, and she raises her brows at him. 

"Okay, well, that's a question for later," she says. "Good to know." A better sheriff would look into that further, all the presumably stolen gold and other treasures he has in his possession, and the people in town so willing to turn a blind eye and take it as payment, but it's literally the least pressing problem in her life at this point. It's not even a problem; she has no way to prove he's stolen anything, and even if she did, she finds she just doesn't care. The fact that he has any number of gold pieces and random treasures on him at any given point in time with which to pay for goods and services is… oddly endearing. 

But, she probably should pay for her own dinner. Otherwise, he might get the wrong idea about what this dinner is. "I've got it," she says again, a finality in her voice with which he decides not to argue further. 

"If the lady insists." 

Henry, bored of their conversation, has been staring down  at the laminated menu in front of him. "What do you like on your pizza, Killian? Well, I guess you wouldn't know that. What do you think you'd like on it? Pepperoni, bacon, Canadian bacon–which is just ham–mushrooms, extra cheese--" he rattles on a list of all the available toppings, still staring at his menu, and completely misses the look that comes over Hook's face when Henry uses his given name. Emma, blessedly, had looked over at him at just the right moment, just when Henry had said "Killian", and beheld for herself the way Hook's whole face had softened. 

"Pardon?" Killian says, clearly confused. "I'm still not quite sure what it is we're ordering." 

"All right, Henry, help the poor guy out," Emma says. "Define pizza. Go.” 

Henry shakes his head, incredulous as he stares at Hook. "Wow. You're like, Amish or something." 

At that, Emma can't help the laugh that bursts out of her. Killian Jones could not possibly be further from an Amish person if he tried. For his part, Hook just frowns, mouths Amish? to himself.

"Okay," Henry goes on, "You have the crust, which is basically like bread." He holds out a hand horizontally, then stacks his other hand on top of it, alternating them with each layer he describes. "Then the sauce. Then a bunch of cheese, melted. Then whatever you want on top. Mom and I usually get the supreme, no green peppers, extra bacon, extra mushrooms. But we can get whatever you want. What do you like?" 

Killian just looks at him, flabbergasted. "Supreme is fine, I'm sure," he finally says. Emma would feel a little bad for him if this wasn't so damn funny. 

"Cool." Henry snaps his menu shut and sets it aside before turning back to his mother. "Can I get a milkshake?" 

"Definitely not," Emma says. "You had that donut at the station earlier, remember?" 

"Oh yeah," Henry mumbles, disappointed. 

It doesn't matter though, because when it comes to her son and sugar, no one in this town seems to listen to her. Ruby automatically brings out a hot chocolate with cinnamon on top and sets it in front of Henry without even asking permission. "Sorry," she says off Emma's look, sounding distinctly not sorry, "On the house. Granny insisted." 

"Thanks," Emma says wryly, sounding distinctly not thankful. 

"How's the beer?" Ruby asks Killian, who smiles up at her politely. 

"Very good. My hat's off to whichever dwarf concocted it." 

"That would be Bashful. Though he's too shy to take credit for it." 

"I imagine so," Killian says with a smirk. 

"Dwarf?" Henry asks, confused. 

Crap, Emma thinks, and tries to think on her feet, "Uh, the mining crew in town gave each other funny nicknames. Right, Ruby?" She shoots Killian a look, and he has the good sense to look abashed at his slip up. 

Ruby's eyes are wide, as if she also completely forgot they were supposed to be a completely normal town in front of Henry. "Right! They're funny that way. Anyway, I'll tell him you liked it. And I'll tell Granny to keep it on tap." She pulls out an order pad from the half apron at her waist. "What'll it be, folks?" 

"Well," Emma starts, "Killian's never tried pizza before..." 

"So we're going to change his life tonight," Henry finishes for her. 

Ruby, expectedly, shares in their shock. "Never had pizza?" She stares down at the pirate like he's suddenly grown an extra head. "What are you, lactose intolerant or something?"

"Excuse me?" Hook asks, as the mountain of his confusion just continues to grow ever taller. 

"He's just not from around here," Emma reminds Ruby pointedly, and a look of understanding washes over her. 

"Ah, right," Ruby says, "I forgot. Okay, yeah, let's change a life tonight! Pizza it is. What'll you have on it?" 

"Supreme is fine," Emma says, and Henry pipes up to add, "No green peppers, please. Extra mushrooms and bacon.” Ruby writes it down, along with the side orders, and promises to be back soon with a batch of fresh onion rings for the table. 

A comfortable silence befalls them. Killian seems relaxed, Emma notices, as he lounges against the wall, and she's surprised to find herself settling comfortably into the booth, as well. This is... nice. They haven't really had a chance to do this, her and Henry, and just hang out with someone else from her life. She's had to dance around so many things with her son, dodge so many questions, hide things and explain (read: lie) things away, with his memories gone. It's been exhausting, frankly. But, since he already knows Killian, spent an entire road trip from New York to Maine in a small car with him, this has felt fairly easy. And Henry seems to like Hook. A lot. 

But Emma should have known that this was going too well. 

"So, Killian," Henry says after a minute, having sampled his hot chocolate and found it satisfactory. "You're not from around here?" Emma's chest clenches in anxiety at whatever he's about to ask next. Please don't ask him how he lost his hand, Emma begs from behind the bars of her brain. She's not sure she can handle the amount of ducking and weaving THAT particular conversation would take. 

“That’s right,” Killian hedges, eying Henry closely, though he still looks completely at ease and prepared for whatever might possibly fall out of her son’s mouth next. 

“Are you from Great Britain? Like, England?” 

It’s almost imperceptible, the way Hook’s gaze darts to Emma before he takes another swig of his beer, and she steps in with an answer. 

“Uh, yeah,” Emma says, affecting a tone that makes her sound semi-sure but also looking to Killian for clarification, “London, right?” 

He takes the answer she hands him on a silver platter and nods easily. “That’s right. What gave me away?” 

Henry rolls his eyes, but any rudeness behind the gesture is dissipated with the smirk he attaches to it. “Uh, the accent, mostly.” 

“Ah,” Killian says with a wink. “Well, guilty as charged.” 

Emma’s not sure if they even have a version of London in the Enchanted Forest, or whatever part of that realm Killian is actually from. She vaguely remembers the Peter Pan film being set in London—probably?—but that’s about it. 

There’s a little wooden peg game hiding behind the napkin dispenser on their table, pressed up against the wall. One of those little pieces of wood with holes drilled into it, with little pegs you’re supposed to jump over each other until there is only one left. Emma knows for a fact that each of the booths has one, and that they were each hand carved by Marco. Henry watches as Hook toys with it, jumps a few pegs over each other, and Emma’s heart gives a little squeeze as Henry asks, “Do you know how to play that?”

Learning to play that simple, weirdly addictive little game was one of the staples of their Granny’s dates, in the first year she lived in Storybrooke. Every time they would sit and eat together, without fail, Henry would pull out the little piece of wood from behind the napkin dispenser and move the little pegs around. Emma caught herself doing it a few times, too, even when Henry wasn’t with her. Just stabbing the little golf tee picks into their tiny holes while she waited for her food. It was weirdly satisfying and oddly addicting. 

And now Henry has forgotten it. 

For all the memories they share of their “pretty good” life back in the big city, she knows there are a dozen more here, in this quiet, strange, terrifying little town. And while she wouldn’t trade that year she had with just her and Henry for anything in the world, she can’t help but grieve the loss of the memories she made with him here, in Storybrooke.

Hook’s voice pulls her out of her thoughts. “Aye. Want me to teach you?” 

Of course he knows how to play the silly little peg game. She watches as he explains, simply, the right strategy to win in the fewest moves. Hook slides the piece of wood over to Henry, who takes it and flips it around, eager to try for himself.

Perhaps emboldened by the fact that he doesn’t have to look at Hook when he asks, and can instead stare down at the little wooden pegs, Henry asks, as casually as possible, “So, how’d you lose your hand?” 

“Henry,” Emma starts. She can’t help the sound of a scold that wraps around her tone. 

“It’s fine,” Killian says easily, though this time he doesn’t look at Emma to give an answer for him. His left arm had been relaxing across his lap; he shifts, and brings his forearm up to rest on the table. For the most part, he had taken to wearing his prosthetic hand around Henry, in lieu of the hook. Emma and her son both can’t help but stare at it as Killian rests it on the table. 

If she’s honest, Emma misses the hook. If she’s honest, she never really actually thinks of Hook as an amputee. She’s seen him make a few creative alterations to movements more able-bodied people would traditionally use two hands for, sure. Using  his teeth to pull a cork from its bottle, or to sexily tie a scarf around her bleeding hand, for one. 

She knows he’s missing a hand. Logically, she knows this. She called him “Hook” 99.9% of the time, until she had to stop when Henry was around. It rolled off her tongue so easily, and several times, she’s had to stop herself from blurting it out in front of Henry. But it’s almost as if half the time it doesn’t even register in her brain that there are some things he can’t do as easily or as quickly as other people.

Now, as she stares down at the leather-wrapped prosthetic on the table in front of her, she finds herself missing the namesake to his more colorful moniker. To her utter horror, when she realizes she’s been very obviously staring, she glances up at Hook’s face, and she finds he’s been watching her for a while now. Emma feels heat pool in her cheeks instantly, and she leans back. But graciously, Killian only smiles softly at her, seeming, yet again, to read her thoughts easily. As if he knows she misses the hook. The bastard has the audacity to wink at her. 

Oblivious to the unspoken conversation happening right beside him between his mom and the strange man across from him, Henry pipes up, “If you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to.” He sounds nervous, like he realizes the gravity of his social blunder and suddenly wants to give Killian an out. “Really. I… I’m sorry I asked.” He shoots an apologetic look to Emma, who tries her best to look stern. 

There’s a moment of silence that stretches out between them where Emma genuinely doesn’t know what Hook is going to say next. So many directions this conversation could go, so many versions of the truth, the unbelievable truth, that he could go with. Emma is very aware that she’s holding her breath, but she can’t seem to let it go until Killian says something. It’s the one thing in this moment she feels like she has control over. 

“Truth be told, lad,” Killian finally says on the end of a sigh, “It happened so long ago, I hardly remember what it’s like having two hands.” 

Emma releases the air she’d been holding captive in her lungs, and in place of the tightness in her airway comes a little pang in her heart. She knows this story, but she’s never asked him about this story. They’ve never talked about that moment, just the two of them, when Milah was murdered right in front of him, and then he had his hand cut off. It’s horrible, truly. She takes the horror of it for granted, and she suddenly very much does not want Henry to hear this story, even in whatever veiled shape Hook wants to tell it. It’s Killian’s story, his hand that was lost, and it’s his right to tell Henry whatever he wants about it. Emma’s heart grieves for this man before her and the tremendous losses that have shaped him. But she does not want her son to hear this story. She’s not even sure she wants to hear this story. 

Life has softened Emma too much, she fears, because while she imagines herself as being quite tough and immune to the awfulness of the world, she knows these feelings are showing quite clearly on her face and in her eyes, which are shining just a little brighter as she watches Hook. He looks up abruptly, meeting her gaze, and her heart leaps like she’s just been jump scared. 

“So you were just a kid when it happened?” Henry asks, and Hook huffs out a little laugh through his nose. 

“Not exactly, no.” 

Henry frowns. “I don’t understand.” 

Emma doesn’t envy either of them in this moment, but she especially does not envy Hook, whom she watches with nothing but sympathy. 

And in the end, Hook goes for the blunt, almost-truth of the matter. “Lost it to a Crocodile.” When he looks up at Henry, it’s with a smirk playing across his features. One that Emma sees right through. 

Henry’s mouth falls open in shock, like that was literally the last thing he was expecting Killian to say. “No way! Seriously? A crocodile bit your hand off?” 

Even Hook can’t disguise the smile—a genuine one, this time—that comes over his face at Henry’s utter, boyish exuberance at this answer. Emma’s heart swells an extra size, watching them. Of course Henry would think that was awesome, the idea of someone’s hand getting bitten off by what is essentially a modern-day dinosaur. “Aye,” Hook says, shooting Emma a knowing glance. “As I said, I lost my hand to a Crocodile.” 

“What, like in Australia or something?” Henry asks. 

“Something like that.” 

The beauty of this moment is that Hook doesn’t even really have to lie to Henry. He seemingly doesn’t have to do anything more than slightly bend the truth; Henry’s too amped up to even listen to the full answers to his questions, and Killian can continue to dole out the most vague answers on the planet. 

“Did you live there?” Henry asks. “When you were a kid?” 

“Lad, I’ve lived in and seen more places than I care to count,” Hook says, with a gleam in his eyes, “And none of them, I assure you, are more interesting and alluring than this very town.” 

Emma doesn’t imagine his gaze flitting over to her when he says the word “alluring”. She knows she doesn’t. And yet, he’s so quick about it, keeping his focus entirely on her son, that she can’t be sure. 

“Really?” Henry asks, dubious. “This town? Storybrooke?” 

“Aye,” Killian says, “I promise you, my boy. There’s more to this place than meets the eye. You just have to be willing to see, for yourself.” 

It’s the kind of answer an old, wizened Santa Claus would tell a kid in a Christmas movie about a town that was secretly the North Pole or something. It’s probably the corniest thing she’s ever heard him say that wasn’t a pickup line. And yet, Emma is surprised to find warmth prick her eyes at his attempt to make Henry feel more at home here, more interested in this town that her city boy son has written off entirely as Boringville, USA. And she gets that—she really does. She didn’t exactly think Storybrooke was hip-hop and happenin’ when she first rolled into town, either. 

Then again, she also didn’t think it was full of fairytale characters. Literal royalty from another realm. Evil queens with magic. Humanoid crickets, for God’s sake. Henry’s family is here. Whether he knows it or not, everyone in this town knows him, and so many of those people love him, would die for him in a heartbeat. And while she can’t pretend she isn’t ready to take him back to New York City the second this is all over, it hurts her heart that he doesn’t even remember those people. 

All talk of special towns and missing hands cease, however, as Ruby returns and sets a massive, loaded pizza in front of them. 

Emma has the satisfaction of watching Hook’s eyes go wide. And whatever she expected him to say, it isn’t the ineloquent, “Whoa,” that falls from his mouth. Emma and Ruby both can’t help but laugh at him. 

“Looks pretty great, huh?” Henry says, already grabbing himself a plate and eying the slice he wants. 

“One life-changing pizza, as ordered!” Ruby says with a grin. “Prepare to be dazzled, Captain.” 

Henry looks over at Emma, mouthing Captain?

“Navy,” Emma whispers, thinking quick on her feet. Henry shrugs and starts piling his plate up with pizza. He carefully positions his chosen slices to make room for the fries that Ruby sets in front of him. 

“There we go, folks,” Ruby says, leaning back with her hand on her hip to inspect the table. “Anything else we need? Refill on that beer, Killian?” 

Emma gives a mental tip of her hat to Ruby for how easily the name Killian rolls off her tongue, like she’s said it a thousand times. Hook, for his part, looks momentarily taken aback that she even knows his given name. “Uh, yes,” he says, “Sure, I’ll take another.” 

It’s a true delight, Emma finds, to see one of the most eloquent, loquacious people she knows (next to Gold, probably, which is a noticed similarity she will not be sharing with Hook) so continuously dumbfounded. It brings her great joy, actually, to keep seeing him rendered speechless by such average things.  

“Sure thing.” Ruby nods and reaches over to snatch up his empty mug. “Coming right up.” 

Ruby leaves, and Emma shakes her head at the absurdity of it all. A werewolf, giving a refill to a pirate of a beer that was illegally home brewed by a dwarf. What even is her life anymore? These are the things she didn’t even know she was missing in New York. Not for the first time, there’s a pang in her heart as she wishes she could share in the joke with Henry. She looks over at her son, watches him squirt ketchup over his fries like he’s trying to torture information out of them. Something of these thoughts must show on her face, because after a moment, she feels a little bump on the toe of her boot. When she looks up, Killian is looking at her, his expression soft, and he offers her a small smile. 

It’ll be all right, Swan, his eyes seem to say, and she feels herself relax a fraction. She smiles back at him, thankful. 

Whatever moment that’s happening between them is interrupted by Henry. “Killian,” he says, though the name is turned to absolute mush by the food in his mouth, “Pizza!” 

“Good Lord,” Emma says, shaking her head at him, “Who raised you, kid? Don’t talk with your mouth so full.” 

Henry takes a few gulps from his Sprite, swallowing it all down. “Ah, sorry. I said, ‘Killian, pizza.’”

Hook, for his part, looks thoroughly amused. “Yes, lad, I’d gathered that.” He looks down at their gigantic round entree with what can only be described as suspicion. “Do I just dig in then? No forks with you savages?” 

Emma huffs a laugh. “Only weirdos eat pizza with a fork.” Though, as she watches Henry hang onto a particularly large piece with two hands, she adds, “Unless that’s easier for you. Then be as weird as you want.” 

Killian waves off any concern on her part with a flick of his hand. “When in Storybrooke, eat as the Storybrookians do and all that.”  He slips a slice of pizza off the stand, letting it fall onto a plate with an audible plop, which he frowns down at. 

“Storybrookians?” Emma laughs. “No way. There’s got to be something better than that out there.” 

Hook shrugs, quirking a brow at her. “I’ll have to check with the mayor.” 

“She’s nice,” Henry pipes up, mouth blessedly less full this time. “She took me out for ice cream.” 

Emma and Hook, for what feels like the thousandth time this evening, swap glances. Henry, too engrossed in his pizza, doesn’t seem to notice. Moments later, when Ruby returns with Killian’s beer, being the spectacular mind reader she apparently is, she also comes bearing another Sprite for Henry and a second iced tea for Emma. 

“You’re amazing,” Emma tells her. 

“I know,” Ruby responds with a wink. “I’ll come check on you guys in a bit. If you need anything, just give a whistle.” She turns on her heel and heads back toward the kitchen, leaving them alone with their life-changing pizza. 

“All right,” Emma says, and her tone sings time’s up, buddy. “Eat up or shut up.” 

Killian chuckles, shaking his head at her. “That the saying, is it?” 

“Yup,” Emma says, popping the “P” on the end. “Sure is. Pizza time. Time to really become a man of the times.” Hook eyes the loaded slice of pizza on his plate skeptically, and Emma thinks of young Simba right before he tried a grub for the first time. “Hakuna matata, pal.” 

Henry, immediately getting the reference, laughs loudly at her side, and Emma beams. Hook looks between the two of them, once again a confused, eyeliner-wearing puppy. The poor man shakes his head, as if he’s just completely done trying to understand everything they say, and as they continue to snicker at his expense, he reaches down, scoops up his slice of pizza with his hand, and takes a bite of it. The thing is so loaded up with toppings that a few black olives abandon ship and fall back down to the plate with a soft tink. 

They both watch him expectantly. Hook, being the good sport he is, lets them stare at them while he eats. He swallows, then washes the rest of it down with a swig of beer. 

Emma and Henry give him a solid three seconds before they say, simultaneously, “Well?” 

“I’ve certainly had worse, by way of sustenance.” Hook says, shrugging, and they both groan. 

“Are you kidding me?” Emma says. “You try pizza for the first time and that’s all you have to say about it? You’ve had better?” 

“I believe what I said was that I’ve had worse food, Swan,” Hook clarifies, pointing at her with the prosthetic hand, “Which is a compliment.” 

“In what realm is that a compliment?” 

“He’s right,” comes Henry’s sigh. “This pizza is mid at best.” 

Mid? Killian mouths to Emma. She shrugs, for once just as lost as he is. 

“The pizza back in New York is way better,” Henry says, and Emma can’t argue with that. 

“He’s right. New York City does pizza like you wouldn’t believe.” 

“Yeah,” Henry says, “Remember the cart guy by our apartment that would sell it by the slice?” 

“Yes!” Emma cries. “Pizza Phil!” 

“You bought pizza from a man in a cart?” Killian asks, looking truly befuddled, clearly envisioning some kind of horse and buggy roadside pizza situation in the congested streets of New York City. 

“Not that kind of cart,” Emma clarifies with a smile. “Like a little… stand, I guess. He’d make it there, in this brick oven on wheels thing he had, and then he’d just sell it by the slice.” 

“It was awesome,” Henry says emphatically. “Best pizza in town. Sometimes Mom would let me have it for breakfast on our way to school.” 

“Yeah, well,” Emma says wryly, “Those weren’t exactly my best mothering moments. Sometimes we overslept, and pizza for breakfast it was.” 

“I disagree,” Henry says around his straw, as he finishes off the last of his second Sprite. Another not great mothering moment, Emma thinks to herself. But tonight is a special night. Henry goes on, “I think those were actually your best mothering moments.” 

“And this cart man’s pizza was better?” Hook asks, slowly, making a very valiant effort to keep up with them. “Back in New York City?” 

“New York pizza has a thinner crust,” Emma explains. “So you get more of the cheese and toppings. It’s pretty great.” 

“The best,” Henry asserts. “I wish we could have had you try it before we came here.” There’s something wistful in his tone that hurts Emma’s heart. She knows full well the bagels, pizza, and honestly food in general in Storybrooke leave much to be desired, and that her son misses the big city. She wants to make it up to him, somehow. He’s been so patient with her, through all this, and so trusting, and her heart swells with affection for him. 

“Alas,” Hook says, with a wry look to Emma, “My experience with New York City cuisine leaves much to be desired.” Vaguely, she remembers something about barbaric brigs and being force fed something called bologna. She shakes her head at him, though she doesn’t even bother trying to hide her laughter. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Emma says with a roll of her eyes. “All right, so we’re not as well-traveled as you are. Sue us. We’re simple folk. We like our pizza.” 

“And I will not begrudge you for that, Swan.” 

“Are there any other pizza places in town?” Henry pipes up.

“I don’t… actually know,” Emma says, glancing at Hook, who shrugs. 

“We should definitely find out,” Henry says. “We gotta try everything this town has to offer while we’re here, and compare it to back home.” 

Emma’s heart squeezes. She can feel Killian’s eyes on her, but she knows if she looks at him, she’s going to lose the battle against the tears suddenly pricking her eyes. Her voice is a little husky when she answers  with, “Yeah, kid. Sure thing.” 

“You’ll come with us?” Henry asks, looking to Hook. “Be brave again, try some more pizza?” 

Hook chuckles lowly, but nods and says, “I think I can be brave, Henry."

“Good,” Henry says, and the grin that lights up her son’s face makes Emma’s breath catch in her throat. He has the best smile, and she hasn’t seen it enough lately. 

They finish their pizza, or as much of it as they can eat, with Henry making the biggest dent. Hook, brave as he is, finishes his slice, and then dares to go for a second, which Emma counts as a win. She doesn’t keep Henry up too late, but they stay late into the evening, much later than Emma had originally intended when she took her son to Granny’s for a hot chocolate and offered to buy Hook a beer. 

And for the first time in a long time, with wicked green witches, curses, her son’s missing memories, and flying monkeys abounding, a peace settles into Emma’s heart. And for the first time in a long time, at least for this moment, she truly feels like everything really is going to be okay. 

[cssecretsanta2020]

Inspiring new take on season 3

Rating: T

Summary: Henry needs a dad. That's fine. Emma can deal with that.

The problem? Neal wants more.

The second problem? Emma keeps running into Hook and, despite trying to keep it friendly between them, finds herself falling in love.

Merry Christmas to @stubblesandwich !! I'm your secret santa!! Hope you enjoy some season 3, post-Neverland pining :)

Written for @cssecretsanta2020

[cssecretsanta2020]

Such a fun play on a christmas classic mixed with the usual craziness of our beloved cast of characters!

How the Witch Stole Christmas--A CS Secret Santa Fic

Note: Merry Christmas @captainswan-kellie!  I was your Secret Santa this year!  I hope you enjoy your gift, and I hope you have a merry Christmas and a happy New Year!

Tagging a few people who may be interested (Let me know if you want to be added or taken off the list):

@jennjenn615 @laschatzi @snowbellewells @iamanneenigma @kmomof4

@linda8084 @searchingwardrobes @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @facesiousbutton82 

@therooksshiningknight @lfh1226-linda @tiganasummertree @jrob64  @anmylica 

@booksteaandtoomuchtv @i-will-sing-no-requiem @bluewildcatfanatic @laianely

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Thanks, Killian!  Maybe we could go out on your boat again sometime,” Henry said as he bounded into their room at Granny’s.

“Anytime, lad,” Killian said softly, and Emma felt her heart turn over at the affection she heard in Hook’s voice toward her son.  If she stopped to think about it too closely, it would scare the daylights out of her, how much she was coming to depend on him and lean on him in the midst of the latest craziness.

But that was a concern for another day.  For right now, she just wanted to celebrate another day where they were still standing and the villain of the day hadn’t succeeded.

“How did the queen fare against the witch?” Killian asked, as though reading her thoughts.  It was kind of unsettling how effortlessly he was able to do that..

“She survived, but the rest is definitely more than a doorway conversation,” Emma said, suddenly feeling tired as she recalled the showdown in the middle of town square.  

She was about to thank him again, when suddenly her phone rang.

“Hey Mary Margaret, what’s up?” she asked, seeing her mother’s picture on the screen when she pulled the device from her back pocket.

“Can you and Hook meet us down in the parlor in say five minutes?” Mary Margaret asked.

“Sure?” she said, the word coming out more of a question than a statement.  “What’s up?  Is everything okay?  Did the witch–”

“Oh nothing like that,” Mary Margaret said.  “Don’t worry.  Your father and I just had an idea.”

Killian gave her a concerned look as she hung up the phone.  “Another crisis, Swan?”

“I don’t think so,” she said slowly.  “That was Mary Margtaret and she sounded….excited.  She wants us to meet her in the parlor.  Just give me a second to tell the kid where I’m off to.”

Five minutes later, they found themselves seated on a loveseat in front of a merrily roaring fire in Granny’s parlor, an equally confused–and annoyed, from the look of it–Regina sitting across from them.

Before any of them had a chance to speculate what was up, Mary Margaret and David breezed in, cheeks reddened from the cold and a few stray snowflakes in their hair.

“Brr!  It’s cold out there,” Mary Margaret said with a smile, “and it’s starting to snow–which is just perfect.”

Emma shot Killian a bemused look, and he shrugged, clearly as at a loss as she was.

“Mom,” Emma said, hoping to win some favor by using the familial term.  “What’s all this about?  Is there a new threat from Zelena?  Did something else happen?”

“Oh nothing like that!” Mary Margaret said.  “We called you all here because, well, tomorrow’s Christmas Eve.”

“Tomorrow’s….Christmas Eve?” Killian said blankly.

“Oh come on, Hook,” David said, “we had Christmas back in our land.  Surely you know what it is!”

“Of course I bloody know what Christmas is,” Killian bit out.  “What I fail to grasp is why that warrants a meeting of the heroes.”

“We have to plan a celebration, of course!” Mary Margaret said, nearly bounding on her chair.  And there’s no time to waste!”

Regina gave her erstwhile enemy a look of disbelief.  “My insane half sister is running around, trying to steal hearts and courage and who the hell knows what else, and you want to plan a party?”

A look of steely determination came into Mary Margaret’s face.  “Yes, that’s exactly what I want to do,” she said.  “I don’t know what the witch has planned.  I don’t know how she plans to go about getting what she wants, but I do know one thing: when this town comes together we don’t fail.  I refuse to let her steal the joy of the holiday from me or my family–or my town!”

“And the best way to stop her is to set up a Christmas tree and drink eggnog and give each other presents we don’t want anyway?” Regina continued.

“Couldn’t hurt,” David said.

“Of course it could!” Regina exploded.  “Who knows what she’ll get accomplished while we galavant around town like idiots!”

“Swan?  What do you think?” Killian asked, turning toward her.

She thought for a moment before formulating her answer.  “I say, screw her,” she said finally.  “Whatever insane plot she’s hatching, she’s basically acting like a spoiled kid, and what do you do with a spoiled kid?  You ignore them.  She wants to throw a temper tantrum, we’ll be ready for her.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The next morning, Zelena adjusted her hat, and then poofed herself out of her farmhouse to the edge of town, curious to see the effect her showdown with her pathetic younger sister had on the rest of the town.

She’d defeated her handily, thanks in part to her secret, Dark One, weapon.  

Would the town be cowering in fear?  Would they be huddled together trying to prepare for whatever new hell Zelena planned for them?

She looked around, and her brows furrowed in confusion.  There was no spirit of fear or concern in the air.  There was an air of excitement, of festivity.  Grumpy and the rest of the dwarf’s were dragging a huge pine tree onto the square and untangling strands of lights.  Marco and Archie hung decorations on light posts.  Belle sang a Christmas carol as she strung garland on the door of library.

Zelena huddled farther into the large coat she’d donned to hide her identity for her reconnaissance mission.  Stepping into Granny’s, she noticed the core group of heroes–along with Granny and Ruby were engaged in a strategy meeting.

But it wasn’t any kind of strategy meeting she would have expected.  They seemed to be planning….a party.

“Should there be a gift exchange?” Mary Margaret asked.

“Put together in one day?” Regina asked skeptically.

“Why not?” Mary Margaret said.  “What kind of Christmas party doesn’t even have a gift exchange?  We could make it a game.  A white elephant gift exchange!”

They were planning a party?  The morning after she’d so soundly defeated her younger sister?  Had they all gone crazy?

Wordlessly, Zelena slipped out of the diner.  They thought to ignore her and the threat she posed?  She’d see about that!

As she made her way back to her farmhouse, an idea came to her mind. A wonderful, terrible idea

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“So….the whole town is having a Christmas party?” Henry asked as he, Emma and Killian walked from their rooms toward the diner bright and early on Christmas morning.

“That they are lad,” Killian said, smiling delightedly. “Replete with gifts, games and holiday treats.”

“But…but weren’t you all just working to find the person who killed my dad, and how you’re having a party?” he asked.

Emma stopped and put a comforting hand on her son’s shoulder.  “Kid, don’t worry, we’ll catch her.  We just can’t stop living while we do.  We can’t let her steal our joy.”

“Your father would want you to enjoy the season,” Killian added.

“But….are we safe?” Henry persisted.

A steely look came into Emma’s eyes.  “The only person who isn’t safe is the w–I mean the killer, if she tries anything today.”

He looked closely at her for a moment.  The kid had an unsettling way of looking for lies–much like she’d always had.  Finally, he nodded.  “Cool.  So what does this town do for Christmas?”

“I guess we’re about to find out,” Emma said.  “And kid…this town is….different, so don’t be surprised if some of their…traditions…are kind of weird.”

“Hey, I’m a kid,” Henry said. “As long as there are presents and sweets I’m happy.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The party went off without a hitch–until late in the afternoon.  Frankly Killian was shocked how long it took for the witch to strike.

They’d just finished a delectable Christmas dinner and were setting up for the white elephant gift exchange–which would no doubt prove to be interesting, given the fact at least four of the dwarves were well into their cups by that point, and Happy was fully inebriated–when a tremendous clatter was heard outside the diner.

As one, the residents of Storybrooke fled to the door and windows to see what was happening.

Zelena, in full on green skin, black dress and hat walked purposely toward them, while a band of flying monkeys screamed to each other, tearing decorations from windows and doors, destroying the carefully decorated tree.

A loud murmur of concern and fear went through the assembly as the witch approached.  Henry, for his part, gave his mother a bemused look.

“Uh…” she said, thinking hard, “this is….this is…”

“The traditional Christmas interactive play,” Regina said, coming to her aid. 

“She looks like the Wicked Witch of the West,” Henry said, skeptically.  “What does she have to do with Christmas?”

“It’s the green skin,” Emma said.  “She’s like… the grinch.”

“So….you do an interactive Grinch play starring the Wicked Witch of the West?”

Fortunately, Swan was saved answering that question by the arrival of the witch herself.

“Well, isn’t this a festive assembly?” Zelena said, walking in confidently.  “Didn’t get enough the other night, sis?”

Without further ado, Zelena raised her hands, called on all of her magic, and…..nothing happened.

“What the hell?” she asked, looking down at her hands.

“Protection spell,” Regina said, gesturing around the diner.  “Covers the whole place.  Sorry to ruin your greatest Christmas wish, but your annoying green hands are tied here.”

“You can’t keep a spell that powerful up forever!” Zelena thundered. “Sooner or later I will break through.”

“Maybe so,” Regina continued.  “But it won’t happen until after Christmas.”

“Look, greenie,” Emma said, “It’s Christmas.  We’re all here to enjoy ourselves.  You’ve got two options: leave us the hell alone, or get over yourself, grab an eggnog and act like an adult, rather than a spoiled child.”

Zelena looked murderous for another moment, and then her facade crumbled.  “You’d really let me join your party?  Knowing who I am?  What I’m capable of? That I’m planning to destroy you all?”

Mary Margaret approached her with a cup of eggnog.  “It’s Christmas, Zelena.   Everyone deserves a little grace and a second chance at Christmas.  I bet there’s even a gift for you under that tree.”

“Come join us,” David said.  “After all, you can always go back to trying to destroy us tomorrow.”

Perhaps the magic of the season touched her.  Perhaps she, like all the rest of them was simply tired.  Perhaps her heart grew three sizes that day. Whatever the reason, after a long silence, in which it felt like no one so much as moved, the witch nodded and the party went on.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Much later that evening a bemused Zelena returned to her farmhouse.  What manner of witchcraft had her spoiled sister used upon her?  She’d gone to the town to destroy their Christmas, and instead they’d invited her in, allowed her to make merry with them, treated her as one of their own.

Was it possible she’d been wrong about them–wrong about everything?

No, she finally decided, sitting before the fire. No, she wouldn’t let a little reverse psychology derail her like that!  Tomorrow it was back to business as usual.  Tomorrow she went back to getting the ingredients she needed.  Tomorrow she took the next step toward getting what she truly deserved–a life in which her sister had never been born.  A life in which she was the favored and only daughter.

And, after all, tonight hadn’t been a complete waste.  She’d gained some useful intel.  It seemed the Savior and the pirate were quite close.  The way they looked at each other.  The way they sought each other out.  Quite the budding romance there.

Perhaps she could use it to her advantage.  Perhaps it was just what she needed to neutralize the savior.  Just a little bit of manipulation, a little bit of deception, and she had no doubt she’d succeed in cursing the pirate’s lips and letting him do the rest for her.

Until then, she had a bigger problem.  The whole noxious town had come together to work as one.  She couldn’t have that.  Couldn’t have that at all.  She had to do something to wipe the warm fuzzies from everyone’s consciousness.

Looks like it was time for one last memory spell.  Taking a vial from her bag, she uncorked it and let the fog waft from it toward the town.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“So kid, what did you think of Storybrooke Christmas?” Emma asked as the three of them headed back toward their rooms.

“Mom, this town is really, really weird,” he said.

“You don’t know the half of it,” she muttered under her breath.

“But,” he concluded, “it was a really good Christmas.  Thanks for bringing me.”

She gave him a quick hug.  “Kid, there’s no one in the world I’d rather spend Christmas with than you, no matter where or how we do it.”

“Me too, mom,” he said, returning her hug, before yawning loudly.

“Okay, time for bed, kid,” she said, opening their door, and gesturing inside.  “I’ll be in in a moment.  Just want to talk to Killian.”

She waited until the door was closed after him, and then turned back to Killian.  “Well, it looks like a Christmas disaster was averted, and the kid’s no worse for the wear.”

“Your lad is stronger than you think, love,” Killian said softly, taking a step closer to her and hooking a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. “And you did a fantastic job giving him a joyful and memorable Christmas.”

“You really think so?” she asked tentatively.  “Killian, I never really had Christmas growing up the way I did, and so I always want to make sure Henry doesn’t feel the loss the way I did.”

“And he never will,” he said with a gentle smile, “because he has a mother who loves him.  It makes up for any….less than perfect Christmas moment.”

Her heart turned over at the look he gave her.  The look he was always giving her.  He believed in her, really, truly believed in her.  He was on her side and in her corner, no matter what.  It didn’t matter what she did, what she said, how much she tried to push him away.  He’d once told her he was in it for the long haul, and she was finally, finally beginning to suspect that he meant it.

She looked up at him for long moments as her heart pounded.  If she didn’t step away soon, she was going to do something stupid. Like kiss him.

She should turn around, walk back into her room.  Bid him good night.

But it was Christmas.  The day had been magical.  She was feeling good–and he was a big part of it.

Screw it.  Tomorrow she’d go back to guarding her heart.  For tonight.  For one night only, she’d show him what his support meant to her.

Reaching up, she grabbed his lapels and pulled him down for a long, slow kiss.  If he was surprised at her actions, he didn’t show it, merely pulling her close, and kissing her back just as fervently as he let his hand tangle in her hair.

Just how long the kiss would have gone on–and how passionate it would have become–Emma didn’t know, because just as she turned her head to deepen the kiss even further, she caught a faint wisp of–something (smoke? Fog? A spell?) out of the corner of her eye.

She pulled away, watching as the fog billowed toward them, and then overtook them, so quickly, she didn’t even have time to cry out.

But no sooner had the cloud overtaken them than it dissipated, and suddenly Emma couldn’t remember what they’d been doing or why.

She shook her head.  The showdown between Regina and Zelena must have rattled her more than she’d thought.

“How did the queen fare against the witch?” Killian asked, 

“She survived, but the rest is definitely more than a doorway conversation,” Emma replied.  “Thanks again for taking him out on your ship.”

[cssecretsanta2020]

This is such a comforting peak into Emma and Killians married life!

CS Secret Santa 2024 Gift Fic: "Christmas Getaway With You" for @stevebcks

I am sorry that it is so late on Christmas night for your present @stevebcks! But yes, I have been your Santa this year. I have really enjoyed chatting with you and getting to know someone I hadn't ever met or gotten to talk with yet in this fandom. I hope you will still enjoy this, even though it is later than I had hoped. I also hope that this Christmas has been a great one for you and that you've truly enjoyed the warmth and joy of the holiday.

You gave me so many great ideas in your answers to my asks, and I tried to work in several of them - giving Emma and Killian more time together in their happily married everyday life, giving a glimpse of them raising their daughter, getting to see them celebrate the holiday, and to visit New York again together. I even attempted to sneak Merlin into the story (at least a playful nod to him!)

Without further hesitating, here's your story!!

“Christmas Getaway With You”

By: @snowbellewells

“Emma, for the last time, Love, you’ve checked everything twice! We’re all ready to set sail.” Killian’s gentle tone of affectionate exasperation finally served to snap Emma from ducking back into the kitchen to be absolutely certain that the door into the mudroom and their backyard beyond was secure and that the coffeemaker was indeed unplugged from the wall for what was at least the third time. Shaking her head at her own anxious dithering, she leaned into his side when he wrapped his arm around her, bringing her to a standstill in the entryway. Killian’s steadying presence soothed her frazzled nerves, just as he always did - no matter what the problem, and she thrilled at the sensation of the smooth curve of his hook rubbing back and forth lightly over her hip, the simple gesture somehow lulling in its familiarity.

“You’re right, Babe,” Emma breathed out as she looked up at him with a grateful smile. “I’m acting crazy and I’m not even sure why.”

“Nonsense, I wouldn’t necessarily call you crazy. Any pirate worth his - or her - “ here he waggled an eyebrow and gave his wife a knowing wink, “salt, knows well enough to properly safeguard the treasure.”

Emma snickered at that and pulled away, but this time she finally moved toward the door, as had been her original intention. Reaching to the coat rack whether her favorite leather jacket and beanie hung waiting, Emma grinned at her own worried expense before speaking to him over her shoulder, “Still, enough’s enough. We’re only going to be gone a few short days. Henry comes in on Friday, plus he’ll have Hope here then, and probably Violet too once she gets back to town, and we’ll be back on Monday.”

Killian’s eyebrows both rose up to disappear under the dark fringe of hair hanging over his forehead as he feigned shocked surprise. “You’re allowing the lad and his lady love to cohabitate under your roof when we aren’t here to chaperone?”

Her husband’s playful pretense of being scandalized had Emma putting her hands on her hips in equally mock consternation. “Oh, don’t pretend your delicate sensibilities are overcome. If you think I don’t know you gave him some tips on successful wooing of said lady love along the way, you’d better think again, buddy.”

Killian chuckled in return at that, dipping his head in a slight bob of agreement to show that he knew she had him there. Taking his own jacket from the peg next to his Swan’s, Killian swung his own outerwear over his shoulders and then waited at the door for Emma as she patted her pockets and made certain she had her keys, phone, badge, and cards before following her out onto the porch and locking the door behind them.

“There,” Emma said, pleased to feel the weight of everyday concerns falling from her shoulders with the closed door. Taking Killian’s offered hand, she added, “Let the holiday adventure begin.”

~~~~**

The next afternoon found them snuggled in a corner booth at the charming Serendipity’s in the Upper East Side of New York City itself. Not only was the frozen hot chocolate heaped with whipped cream and toppings decadent enough to induce guilt all on its own, but sitting there cozily tucked into Killian’s side had Emma almost feeling selfish for escaping from her family and friends in Storybrooke, not to mention her little girl to steal a few days - and nights - alone with her pirate husband. Nevermind that Hope had her Grandpa David completely wrapped around her tiny fingers and would be dragging him around with the dogs, goats and sheep on the farm until dark and then she and Grandma Snow would probably create the most intricate and icing-frosting gingerbread castle known to man; suffice it to say Hope was in little girl heaven being spoiled by her grandparents at present, and would get to spend a whole day with her adored big brother right before Emma and Killian returned; she was hardly pining away feeling left out. Maybe she should feel ashamed of herself for counting it almost a luxury to canoodle with her handsome husband in public without interruptions from well-meaning neighbors (or parents), Ruby winking at her knowingly from behind the counter at Granny’s, or one of the dwarves bursting into the middle of the date to proclaim some new emergency, but she felt incredibly spoiled and pleased at pulling it off all the same.

A pleasant rumbling chuckle from Killian’s chest vibrated through her as he licked the last of his own dessert from the spoon, making Emma’s heart rate triple and her cheeks heat at the image of his lips enveloping the utensil and thinking of how deliciously they felt sampling her bare skin as well when they were behind closed door. “You seemed pensive, Darling,” he murmured low in her ear, voice sounding mild and innocent, though Emma could clearly see otherwise when she shot a sideways glance at his twinkling eyes and mischievous expression.

“As if you don’t know exactly what you’re doing,” she countered with a huff, pushing away slightly to sit upright, sip the last dregs of her melty treat, and rise to stand before him determinedly. “Enough stalling, Captain,” she added with tart certainty. “You aren’t going to get me addled enough to forget what you promised. I may drag you back to our room, but…”

As she paused for a shaky breath, Killian ran his tongue salaciously over his lower lip, eyeing her intently and taking her internal temperature up another few notches. Still, Emma arched her brow right back at him in return and leaned in to meet his teasing look with one of her own. “But not before you take me ice skating, as planned,” she finished.

Shaking his head at her antics, Killian rose to his feet as well, leaving a generous tip for their server - with dollar bills, not doubloons, as Emma had reiterated he must do to blend in properly in the Land Without Magic - and offered her his arm as gallantly as ever while they made their way back out into the frosty night. Once they were back on the sidewalk, shoulders hunched against the chill air as they turned their steps toward Central Park, Killian spoke up again with resigned knowing, “Though I suspect you largely wish to see me at disadvantage and looking foolish, you wish is - as always - my command, Emma.”

The wide, dazzling grin she gave him in return sent any hesitance Killian had felt at the strange activity fleeing to the furthest back corner of his mind. His lovely wife beaming so open and joyously was still entirely too rare in his opinion, and it made any upcoming embarrassment well worth it. Emma, for her part, could see that decision in his adoring gaze, and blinked back the tears that beaded her eyelashes, loving him all the more for his dedication to her happiness.

~~~**

Upon reaching the crowded space sent aside as an ice-skating rink within the acreage of Central Park, not only did Emma gain a bit of an eager spring to her step, her shining golden hair swinging mesmerizingly over her shoulders, but Killian felt himself charmed too, in spite of his reluctance. The borders around the frozen surface were looped and festooned by a wealth of twinkle lights glowing cheerily, and at some point during their stop for dessert at Serendipity’s, snow had begun to fall lightly, giving the entire scene just the sort of pretty white dusting that added the perfect festive look to the atmosphere. People were scattered all around the busy clearing - as they were all throughout this major city, Killian was coming to understand, almost packed atop each other really. There were couples skating hand-in-hand and parents helping their children put on skates interspersed with teenagers weaving in and out of the slower skaters on the ice and laughing over their cocoa in clumps at the picnics tables; humanity of all ages and races converging here in holiday cheer. It truly was something to witness.

Emma led the way to the rental stall with confidence, causing Killian to wonder with blatant curiosity if she and Henry had come here often in that lost year when they were separated and her lad was still just a youngster yet. That time had dragged and tormented her unendingly, thinking Emma was lost to him forever, just when she had begun to see him for the man he wished to be, the man she had restored in him. All the same, for his Swan, it must have been such a sweet, simple respite in many ways. She didn’t remember the family, or the pirate, she had lost. Henry was hers alone, and had always been so. Returning to the constant battles and demands, to sharing her son with the woman who would have gladly seen her dead - or in a cursed sleep forever - could not have been the easy choice. Killian knew that - and yet, it struck him anew in moments he least expected it. 

Turning to see the slightly pained expression on his face, Emma’s brow puckered in confusion. “What’s wrong, Babe?” she asked worriedly, tugging the hand she held to get his attention fully. “You know I’m mostly kidding you, right? If we skate a couple rounds and you hate it, we don’t have to keep going.”

Killian shook his head with a light scoff at that, waving off her concern before bending to press a kiss to her forehead in reassurance. “Don’t you worry, Love,” he soothed. “I was only lost in thought for a moment.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, leaning in to rest a hand over his heart as she often did, ever since his time in the Underworld, it having become a bit of a habit to assure herself his heart was beating with life once again.

“Aye,” he nodded decisively, without a moment’s pause, not about to keep her guessing or make her feel he wouldn’t wish to join her in whatever she truly wished to do.

By this time, they had reached the front of the line and turned from conversation with each other to face the attendant renting skates to all the bravely bundled up visitors of the outdoor rink. To Emma’s surprise, the young man smiling back at them had an oddly familiar glimmer in his deep chocolate-brown eyes and soft affection to his smile. It was completely at odds with her certainty that she’d never met him before, nor could she begin to guess his name, but the way he greeted them with such friendliness and - she could have sworn - a playful wink, made it seem as if he somehow knew them. He was a handsome and eye-catching guy, his close-cropped black hair, mocha latte skin, and lean height made him hard not to notice, all the more reason Emma suspiciously felt she ought to know him, though her mind offered no further clues. “How can I help you fine folks?” he spoke then, bright and completely innocuous right words. “A couple pair of skates?”

“Right you are,” Killian answered, giving Emma a curious look to show he found this effusive welcome strange as well, but carrying on normally. “Two pair for an hour’s rental, if you please.”

With a nod, the attendant turned to reach behind him to the shelves and retrieve the skates in their sizes which Killian had requested. Emma offered him the rental fee money, as Killian had taken both pairs of skates in his good hand and didn’t often choose to extend his false wooden hand to strangers, even if he did concede to wear it when they ventured outside Storybrooke. However, when her gloved hand touched his to give him the money, a shivering flash ran through her, nearly knocking Emma back on her heels. 

Glancing up at the man sharply, Emma drew in a quick gasp of surprise, even as she felt Killian’s touch at the small of her back in silent support. All she got in return was a subtle bow of the head, acknowledging what she had felt, and the lowly murmured, “It’s lovely to see you happy for the holidays at long last, Savior.”

“What - ? Wait, who are you?” she sputtered, floundering for a response. “How did you - ?”

“Emma, Love, maybe now is not the time,” Killian whispered at her ear, nodding subtly toward the line of people behind them, beginning to shuffle and grow impatient when they didn’t move on with their skates and make way for the next customers.

“To answer your question, I’m Melvin Emrys, skate shop employee extraordinaire,” the enigmatic young man broke in with a smile. “Though I doubt that helps you, as I am sure even now you are thinking that name does not quite fit.” He winked again. “Both of you enjoy your time on the ice. It truly can be magical this time of year. But I’m afraid that now I must see to the rest of my customers.”

Killian ushered Emma over to a bench nearby, she still looking back over her shoulder uneasily, trying to understand what had just happened. Her pirate was hovering a bit more protectively than usual, but nothing overtly threatening had actually happened, and so they soon attempted to shrug off the odd encounter, see to their skates, and were soon gingerly stepping out onto the ice.

To her utter delight, Emma found that the gliding movement came back to her easily, her feet moving almost as if on auto pilot, her muscle memory seeming to sustain her, even if it had been years since she’d last been on skates. Swirling around she faced Killian, who was still on solid ground, looking dubiously at the frozen surface and then her as if again trying to gauge if she only wanted to see him land on his arse. 

Holding out her hand, Emma cocked her head to the side and gave him a playful pout before wheedling, “Come on now, Pirate, don’t tell me the scourge of the high seas is afraid of a little frozen water. Don’t you trust me?”

Resolve seemed to crystallize in Killian’s bright blue eyes, the determined bob of his chin seeming to solidify his decision. “That’s hardly fair, Sweetheart. You know I trust you as I would no one else.”  He took first one, then another cautious step forward, until he was, wavering only slightly, standing fully on the icy surface. “I simply wonder if you might also wish to see me looking as ridiculously uncoordinated as you sometimes do.”

“Hey!” Emma blurted out, almost jerking her hand back to cross her arms over her chest in feigned affront. 

He had hold of her already, and rather than slipping and losing his balance, he pulled her into his unexpectedly solid embrace, grinning down at her with a face so full of mischief that she knew immediately she’d been had. 

“You already know how to ice skate just fine, don’t you?” she asked, the answer having already dawned on her without much of a doubt.

Waggling both eyebrows at her in a way that made her want to both giggle and smack him simultaneously, Killian nodded in confirmation of her words, not willing to string her along any further. 

“Why didn’t you say so?” she asked curiously.

“All that time on the seas, traveling to so many different lands and times, I would have had to have picked it up somewhere. There are parts of the sea that turn so cold, even that much water can freeze solid,” he offered simply. “But you seemed to eager to show me something from your world, to teach me something that you loved to do, that I hated to spoil it for you. And I wasn’t completely sure that after so long in Neverland, I would still remember how…”

“Hmm…” Emma grumbled a bit, but it was half-hearted, seeing that his heart had been in the right place, and also eager to skate with him, to feel the breeze in her hair and the snowflakes on her face and enjoy the feeling of almost flying with him at her side.

“Now, now, Darling,” Killian crooned, taking her hand and pushing off gracefully, both of them setting off in a smooth glide that curved gently when they reached the end of the rink. “Don’t pout, just because you won’t be getting to see this arse you love bumped and bruised and frozen from landing on the ice.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see about how much I love it once you probably show me up at this,” she said, but her cheeks were heating pleasantly just watching how smoothly he moved beside her. He was as graceful in this as he was everything else he tried.

~~~**

By the time their few days in the city drew to a close, it was Christmas Eve. As they packed up the Bug for the trek back to Storybrooke, Emma couldn’t help reflecting on what a difference a few days away could make. She and Killian hadn’t had this much time to themselves since they were married, quite possibly even since their inadvertent trip to the Enchanted Forest of the past. She couldn’t claim to read her pirate’s mind, but they did understand each other, just as they always had. It was clear enough that he felt as renewed as she did, and anxious to get home again to their loved ones, especially their little girl.

She knew Killian was also thrilled to have found gifts fit for his pirate princess at FAO Schwarz and couldn’t wait to give them to Hope the next day. He’d found a huge, ostentatious, feathered pirate hat worthy of his showy old nemesis Blackbeard, but he knew his daughter would love it. Along with that, he’d purchased a shining miniature toy cutlass which looked as much like his as he could have possibly imagined without being an actual weapon. Emma found herself grinning even more at the thought of the large, squishy-soft stuffed octopus she’d found herself to add to the haul. After being spoiled by her grandparents and then her older brother the last several days, Hope would be on a sugar high and bouncing off the walls with excitement already. Seeing all her presents from the big city would have her beside herself.

And Emma wouldn’t want it any other way. There was something incredibly healing about seeing her own child get to have the sort of Christ mas she herself had always dreamed of - surrounded by belongings and love - and getting to be a part of it herself at long last.

So when they drove past the Storybrooke sign some hours later, snowflakes still sparkling in the chill air and Killian’s solid warmth at her side, nearing the rest of their family and a Christmas celebration sure to be of royal proportions at her mother and father’s farmhouse that night, Emma smiled at her True Love and let herself savor that extra little thrill of Christmas magic.

[cssecretsanta2020]

This holds so much anticipation for the following chapters! Im sure i speak for many when i say I excitedly wait for this gift to be finished.

When I Saw Your Face (1/5)

Summary: Lost in her own thoughts, she didn't realize that the crowd of men had quieted and stepped away from their seats to allow a new man to sit right across from her.

"Five times in a row against some of the best gamblers I know? One would think you're cheating."

She looked up and felt her heart drop as she stared into the bluest eyes she had ever seen. *** CSSS 2024 fic for killiansprincss

Rating: T

Read on AO3

A/N: Merry Christmas @killiansprincss!! I was your Secret Santa for this year! I had a great time not only creating this fic, but getting to know you! Enjoy this fic Enchanged Forest AU with tropes everywhere, lol. Each chapter is based on one of your top five Taylor Swift songs.

*** She wasn't supposed to be there. Nothing about her surroundings was safe. If her parents found out, they might forbid her from ever seeing the light of day for at least a decade, all in an effort to keep her safe.

And yet, she felt freer than in all those other spaces people told her she was safe.

She placed her hand of cards down on the table and threw her head back in laughter as the men gathered around let out curses and shouts and groans of dismay.

It was her fifth time winning in a row and she felt no shame as she gathered their gold and jewels, adding it to her own pile.

These were pirates after all. The treasures they laid out on the table hadn't been theirs to begin with. She wasn't going to keep any of it for herself. She had no need for it.

But she had seen a small huddle of street children as she came in. One of them didn't look more than four years old.

She smiled to herself as she imagined the look on their faces, knowing this pile she had gathered would last them for the foreseeable future.

Lost in her own thoughts, she didn't realize that the crowd of men had quieted and stepped away from their seats to allow a new man to sit right across from her.

"Five times in a row against some of the best gamblers I know? One would think you're cheating."

She looked up and felt her heart drop as she stared into the bluest eyes she had ever seen. Quickly schooling her expression, she quirked her lips upwards. "Are you willing to make it six times in a row for me?"

He laughed, a deep sound that reverberated through his chest. "If that's the case, then I suppose that proves you are a cheat."

She narrowed her eyes. "I'm not."

"Let's see, shall we?" He grabbed the deck of cards and handed them to one of the gathered men to shuffle. The man then leaned forward, sipping out of flask that didn't smell like just ale. "I would like to know the name of my opponent before we begin."

"Swan," she answered without hesitation. The name she always gave when she was trying to pass incognito. A lie easy to tell because it was half true. A swan was on her family crest, serving as a symbol for her and her family.

He raised a brow. "That's not your real name."

"Tell me yours first then."

He let out an amused huff before bringing up his left hand to the table.

Or, more appropriately, the hook that stood in place of his left hand. "Hook."

She tried not to let the breath catch in her throat. She had known he was a pirate from the moment he sat down. But seeing the hook, she knew that he was the Captain Hook.

Infamous pirate, wanted in nearly all the surrounding kingdoms.

Without showing any reaction to the revelation of just how dangerous this man was, she instead repeated his words back to him. "That's not your real name."

"Aye. Let's raise the stakes then. I win, I take all this treasure, and you tell me your name. You win, I'll give you my name and won't steal this treasure from you."

She scoffed. "I'd like to see you try."

The cards were dealt, and they played the game. The men who had lost to her gathered around, cheering for their captain. Other women from the tavern also gathered, all their attention on Captain Hook.

It made something uncomfortable shift in her bones, watching as they unabashedly flirted with him.

She wasn't a cheat. The other men just didn't know how to play.

Captain Hook did though, proving just how well when he won in only four moves.

He laughed and the other men cheered as he collected her pile of treasure and claimed it as his own.

She got up to leave, her mood soured after losing. Cold metal encircled her wrist, preventing her from taking a step forward.

Captain Hook tsked. It seems you're forgetting part of our deal, love."

She scowled at the term of endearment, hoping that would cover the burning in her cheeks. A list of at least a dozen names she could give came to mind. Names that would protect her identity.

None of those names were the ones she gave.

"Emma," she said quietly, only allowing him to hear over the raucous noise from the other men.

He smiled.

She felt her stomach flip.

He brought her hand to his lips, brushing them ever so gently over her skin. "Enchanted."

Her heart leapt to her throat as he stared at her with those blue eyes that seemed to promise her a freedom that came with sailing across the oceans.

She brought the moment to an end, untangling her wrist from his hook and quickly leaving the tavern.

It wasn't that she was fleeing from him. No, it was time for her to return before anyone noticed she was missing.

Emma stepped into the alley just behind the tavern, inhaling the cold air deeply as she willed her racing heart to calm.

Agitation was never a good combination when she used one of her transportation spells.

Having taken several deep breaths, she centered her mind and envisioned her room as she began the spell that would take her back home.

The back door from the tavern opened, making Emma press her back against the wall to keep in the shadows, bringing her spell casting to a halt.

Captain Hook came out. Alone.

A part of her was satisfied that he didn't leave the tavern with any of the women there that had been fawning over him during their game.

Emma shook her head, as if to physicaly shake that feeling. What did she care if he left alone or with a woman on each arm?

She watched him, seeing how he took out the bag full of money he had won from her.

Money she was going to put to good use. Unlike him, who would only add it to the copious amount of treasure he no doubt had hidden away on his ship.

But then he tossed the bag of money on the ground.

Right at the feet of the street children she was going to give it to in the first place.

He continued walking without even so much as looking at them.

The children scrambled for the bag, trying to keep their excited words to a whisper as they no doubt began making plans.

One of them raised his head to call out a thank you to the pirate captain.

Captain Hook gave no indication he heard the boy.

Emma continued watching the man, her curiosity wanting her to follow after him.

She almost did.

If it hadn't been for the bell tolling two in the morning.

Emma startled, straightening as she closed her eyes and focused again on the spell that would take her back to her bedroom.

Hopefully in time before the nightguard came to check on her.

When she next opened her eyes, she was in her bedroom. Emma didn't even bother changing out of her clothes, hurrying to get under the covers and pretend she hadn't left her bed all night.

The moment she was finally settled in her bed, a small beam of light entered the room. With her back to the door, she was able to see the shadow of tonight's guard peeking his head in for a quick moment before closing the door and continuing on his nightly rounds.

Emma counted to ten before releasing a heavy breath and sitting up. She snapped her fingers and the candle on her nightstand lit up.

She slipped out of bed again, this time to change out of her clothes. She hid them, not wanting the maids to find them in the morning when they came to gather the laundry.

In her nightgown and a robe wrapped firmly around her to keep the chill out, Emma stood on the balcony, overlooking the sleeping kingdom.

Ever since she could remember, her father said it would all be hers one day. The people who currently knew her as Princess Emma would call her Queen Emma. She would continue to be loved and would rule with a gentle heart for the poor and firm hand for the wicked.

It was her duty.

Ever since she could remember, Emma never wanted it.

The desire to run away would always burn anytime she came back from one of her midnight adventures. Tonight was no different, but there was an added element to it.

To run away on a pirate ship, with a captain who was rumored to be cruel, but she had seen evidence that he was quite the opposite.

She ran her fingers over the back of her hand, trying to commit to memory the feel of his lips on her skin. She whispered a single word to herself.

"Enchanted."

***

He had been watching her all night. The moment she stepped into that tavern and made her way towards the gambling men, she had caught his attention.

How could she not, with the way that she carried herself.

It was immediately recognizable to him that she was royalty. The fact that no one else seemed to realize this baffled him.

Perhaps it was because of all the gold and jewels she accumulated as she won every round of cards against the men.

Enough so that the accusations of her cheating could be heard.

Killian knew of course that was not the case. The men were just terrible at the game. He should know. They were part of his crew, and he was constantly winning against them.

Women looking for a quick coin would come up to him. Tease him, buy him drinks, whisper promises of enjoyment.

His focus remained on this royal pretending to be a commoner.

Curiosity finally won as he made his way towards the table, his crew quieting as they made space for him.

His felt his breath leave him when he finally looked into green eyes that reminded him of spring as a child, before his mother died.

One of the last times he had felt truly happy.

She introduced herself as Swan.

Obviously a fake name.

So, he gave her his moniker.

Hook.

She didn't flinch.

He raised the stakes to their game.

The loser would have to reveal their first name.

She agreed.

Besides, what would she do with so much gold anyways? He was sure, whoever she was, she had rooms filled to the brim with gold.

She was a decent player, but, as he suspected, the crew she played against were horrible gamblers.

He won.

She attempted to leave without following through with their deal, so he reached out and caught her wrist in his hook.

He wished he had used his hand, wanting to feel her skin against his fingertips.

She whispered her name in his ear.

For the first time, he was grateful he hadn't gone to cut his hair the moment they made landfall. His hair was long enough to cover his burning ears.

"Emma."

And he could think of only one royal who had that name.

Princess Emma of Misthaven.

He brought her hand up to his lips, pressing them gently against the back of her hand. Her face flushed and he wondered if it matched his own. She quickly pulled her wrist from his hook and hurried out of the tavern.

He wanted to follow her.

Instead, he watched her leave.

Killian sat there a few moments longer, listening to his crew cheering, laughing, and starting up another game. He didn't linger, taking the treasure he won, and left.

His mind could not stop thinking of Princess Emma and trying to figure out a way to see her again.

As he made his way towards his ship, he tossed his won gold to a group of street children he had spotted before going inside the tavern. He had plenty of gold, having just come back from another successful pillaging voyage.

He knew what it was to be a child whose sole focus was to simply survive another day.

Aboard his ship, Killian went below decks to his private quarters. He opened one of the many chests, pulling out a new bottle of rum. He drank straight from it, not bothering to refill the empty flask he carried with him.

The Jolly Roger had been docked in a way that gave him a perfect view of the castle from his porthole. He wondered if Emma was there now, or if she was figuring out a way to sneak back into the castle.

His fingers made his way to his lips, lightly brushing over them as he remembered the way the skin of her hand felt against them.

He breathed out a single word, staring at the castle with Princess Emma invading every single thought.

"Enchanted."

[cssecretsanta2020]

Stunning art being paired with a stunning story

CS Secret Santa gift

This is my Secret Santa gift for @myfearless-love ❤🧡Hope you like it....

Read the story here AO3

FYI: there will be more chapters

Art done by flitbit (not sure what your tag is on tumbler... sorry!) thank you for being such an amazing Santa's helper.

@cssecretsanta2020

[cssecretsanta2020]

Amazing video

The Words

Merry Christmas @colinoeyebrows !

I'm your Secret Santa for @cssecretsanta2020 this year! I was very excited to get your name, as it was just recently when we had our introduction and conversation on IG 😉 I hope you like the edit I created for you! I tried to combine scenes and outfits that you like and make coloring with shades of your favorite color. I had to make this post again because of tumblr glitch (it just cut out quite long pert of this edit, and I don't know why it happened), but now it's complete here)

Tag people who may be interested: @killianxswan @teamhook @booksteaandtoomuchtv @exhaustedpirate @anmylica @hollyethecurious @kmomof4 @winterbaby89 @undercaffinatednightmare @resident-of-storybrooke @caught-in-the-filter @tiganasummertree @stahlords @lfh1226-linda @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite @motherkatereloyshipper @soniccat @jrob64 @beckettj @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jonesfandomfanatic @zaharadessert @bluewildcatfanatic @once-upon-a-happy-end @ultraluckycatnd @qualitycoffeethings @deckerstarblanche

[cssecretsanta2020]

A beautiful video

Merry Christmas @jrob64 I'm your @cssecretsanta2020 gifter!

I made you a video to Take It To The Limit by The Eagles, because you said you liked them and this song always reminds me of emma and killian :)

I hope you like it! I tried to include as many of the scenes you said you liked as I could

(also since I posted it on youtube, let me know if you have a youtube account you want me to tag!)

[cssecretsanta2020]

This is quite the intense gift there will be much anticipation for the upcoming chapters!

You, Me, and Who You Used to Be | CS Fic (CSSS 2024 Gift for BelovedCreation)

Merry Christmas!!

I'm your Santa this year!! :) 🎄🎄

Using your prompts of pining, Enchanted Forest, and angst with a happy ending, I give you:

Summary: (CS movie divergence) After getting her parents back on track, Emma’s magic returns. But before she can conjure a portal home, Killian is abducted. Alone in a world she knows nothing about and with no idea how to find Killian, Emma enlists the only person—or rather, pirate—who would be as motivated to save Killian as she is. However… Killian’s past may just be what destroys the future. CS

AO3

Words (so far): 5k+

NOTE: This is currently only the first chapter of this fic - long story short, the fic I spent weeks on just was not coming together, so I last minute changed to this one. It was an idea I had written the beginning of years ago that I remembered when I was trying to find something to align with the prompts you gave me :D so I knew it would be perfect to write for your gift!! I spent the past week working super hard on this trying to get it finished for you in time, but it was getting so rushed and you do not deserve a rushed gift!! So I decided to give you the first 5k words now, and I'll be updating it with the rest over the coming weeks! :)

Chapter One (under the cut!)

A/N: Story context: This is a canon divergence of the CS movie, which begins right after Emma gets the wand from Rumplestiltskin. (He does not send him to his vault of do-not-touch things in this version tho. We’ll pretend Elsa gets to Storybrooke some other way lol. I’ll also be ignoring Marian, which, the show pretty much did when it just ended up being Zelena anyway lol. 

Emma smiled at the faintly glowing wand in her fingers, feeling the warmth of the return of her magic, lighting a glow in the vast dining room of Rumplestiltskin’s castle. 

Everything was back on track.

Including herself.

Perhaps she had been trying to take the easy way out, blocking her magic from returning so she could go back to New York with no ties left behind. 

But more than anything, it was Killian’s smile now that made the warmth inside her grow even more, and if it wasn’t her imagination, made the wand spark a little brighter.

“It works,” whispered Emma, staring at the wand in awe, eyes snapping to Killian. “My magic is back!”

“I knew you could do it, love.” said Killian softly, a relief in his eyes, like it was for both the possibility of getting back home, and for the fact that he still blamed himself for her powers being taken in the first place. 

“Ah, the Savior, of course,” murmured Rumplestiltskin from his perch on the edge of his dining table. “I should have known you would have magic of your own.”

Emma suddenly realized just how much Rumplestiltskin knew. “Is it a problem that you know…?”

“It would be,” he agreed, but lifted his hand, where a potion bottle materialized. “However, I have spent the past few hours mixing myself a Forgetting Potion.”

Emma smiled. “Good. Well, let’s do this, then.” She then lifted the wand, about to attempt to bring forth the time portal.

“Wait, wait, wait,” said Rumplestiltskin, jumping down and pushing her hand with the wand down. “Not in here. You might bring any number of my possessions with you.”

Emma winced, eyes finding the myriad of scary-looking things in the castle, wondering just how catastrophic that could be. 

She looked from Killian’s raised eyebrow to Rumplestiltskin. “So where do we—“

But not a second later, Rumplestiltskin’s castle was gone, and suddenly they were outside. Trees, greenery and blue sky replaced the walls of the Dark One’s abode. They weren’t too far from the town below, and not far off was the sea. But they were in an empty enough area of the forest that no one should see anything, and nothing should come with them.

 “Well,” said Killian, giving her another smile, “ready, there, Swan?”

Emma nodded. She lifted the wand again, concentrating on her magic, on the emotion in her chest, bright and raw. The tiny flicker of a portal, like a zipper drawn in the very fabric of the air, appeared before them. 

Killian grinned. “That’s it, lo—” 

He was cut off with a grunt, and Emma’s eyes snapped to him, her concentration broken and the tiny beginnings of the portal fizzled back out of existence. 

Emma’s heart stopped. 

They were no longer alone. 

A burly, muscled man had his arm around Killian’s neck in a chokehold, his other arm pinning Killian’s left arm to his side. Killian let out an angry, surprised snarl, jerking hard against the grip. 

“Hook!” cried Emma, jamming the wand in her back pocket to hide it and running toward him, only skidding to a stop when three other thugs suddenly flanked the first.

“Sw—“ began Killian, his right hand scrabbling at the hold around his neck, but his airway was quickly cut off. Red rushed to his face, and Emma’s heart froze.

“Sorry, darlin’,” said the man’s raspy voice. “We got direct orders to bring Captain Hook in. He stole from us last night, and now he gon’ pay. Pretty stupid to show yer face in the open like this, without yer crew, no less.” A dark chuckle. “Shoulda sailed away when he had the chance.” To someone behind him, he shouted, “Lucky catch, men!”

Killian struggled against them, something angry and feral, landing a blow to the man's gut. The man growled and stumbled, and Killian reared back to hit him again until the man snapped, “Stop fightin’ or the wench dies!” That made Killian freeze, staring at her with icy horror. 

For a moment, Emma and Killian stared at each other, and it felt like time stood still.

Panic rushed through Emma's chest.

Magic.

Magic.

But she had no idea how to use her magic.

And if she took even a step forward, she'd get a sword through her in seconds.

Killian grunted as a second thug grabbed him on his other side, ripping Killian's sword from his sheath.

Panic rose even sharper in Emma's chest.

Killian swallowed, eyes locked onto her. “Go—home,” Killian managed, his eyes pleading and broken, with something in them that looked like goodbye, only making Emma’s eyes burn. 

“Hook—!” breathed Emma, running for him, but froze when three swords pointed in her direction, so close to her it made her stumble back, falling to the ground.

And by the time she made it back to her feet, they were gone.

-.-.-.

Dark had fallen.

The air had chilled. 

But none of it gave her the cold dread inside her chest. 

She’d searched for hours.

But those men obviously knew this forest better than she did, and it was easy to get lost in it. 

Too easy.

She let them take him.

Emma kicked herself.

She should have done something.

She should have done something.

She should have been spending all the time back in Storybrooke learning magic instead of shoving it away.

Because now Killian was gone, and it was all her fault.

She got them stuck in the past.

She was the reason Killian stopped trying to free himself from those bastards.

She was the reason that they may never see each other again.

Emma couldn’t stop seeing his eyes. 

The resignation.

The defeat. 

The horrible, utter sadness.

She was now alone, and she’d never felt this alone in her entire life. 

It was one thing to grow up being alone. 

And it was another thing entirely to find people, to fall for people, and to have them ripped from you.

It was an entirely different thing to know what it felt like to not be alone.

And ever since meeting Killian, more or less after he decided to become a part of something , he’d been practically glued to her side. He’d voluntarily gone back to the land he hated more than anywhere, he’d given up his revenge, he’d found her in freaking New York City —an endeavor Emma still didn’t know how he managed to do—and how he managed to find her in a world he knew hardly anything about?

Emma stopped on the path, feeling the chill of the air. 

Even the air felt different in the Enchanted Forest. It felt… unearthly, which, wasn’t exactly off point. The magic in the land seemed to crackle like a charged atmosphere. The animal sounds, the nightly coos and caws were different, and all this different was unsettling and…

She really, really didn’t want to admit she was scared. 

But Emma didn’t have Mary Margaret with her this time. She didn’t have a princess squad to help her through. And, she didn’t have Hook.

Killian, who was god knew where. 

He might even already be—

No , said a firm voice in her head, trying to quell the hair that raised on the back of her neck at the thought. They wouldn’t have kidnapped him if they were going to be quick about it. 

The idea of him suffering at all…

Emma swallowed, hard, trying to shove down the rush of panic that shook her fingers.

How the hell was she supposed to find him?

She was a complete outsider. 

She not only wasn’t from this town, she wasn’t from this world , and she wasn’t from this time, not by a long shot. 

She was trapped thirty years in the past, and Killian could be anywhere. 

“Go home.”

Emma shut her eyes at Killian’s echo.

Go home.

He wanted her to go home.

He wanted her to leave him here, conjure the portal, and go home.

The very fact that he thought she would made her chest hurt, because how could he think she’d leave him here?

But…

“You really thought I’d let you drown?”

“Given our history, can you blame me for being uncertain? ”

Here she was thinking how he could possibly think she didn’t care about him, when…

“Do you even care about them? Or anyone in this town?”

He said anyone.

He meant me.

And replaying it all, how could she think he’d know she did?

All she’s done since he saved her in New York, was walk away from him.

But she did care.

She more than cared.

And now, she may never —

No.

Emma opened her eyes, ignoring the burn in them.

Determination set into her face, Emma made up her mind without hesitation. 

There was no way she was leaving here without Killian.

The thought of returning to life without him, living without him…

It felt wrong. 

Something about him in her life just made sense. Even now, she felt like something was missing, and suddenly she was wondering how she ever considered leaving her family, leaving him, to go back to New York. 

“Go home.”

She couldn’t go home when he already became her home.

But… 

How on earth—or, how in the Enchanted Forest—was she supposed to find him?

And before they did something terrible and irreversible to him?

“He stole from us last night. Now he’s gon' pay.”

Emma blinked. 

Killian didn’t steal anything from anyone; she knew he hadn’t. He’d been too concerned with messing up the time continuum.

He hadn’t stolen.

But Emma had a pretty good feeling who had.

And Killian was currently paying for his crime. 

Emma smiled grimly, a plan unfolding in her head. 

She started walking, faster this time.

She just hoped the Jolly Roger was still in port. 

-.-.-.

Emma clung to the shadows when she entered the town. 

Thanks to Rumplestiltskin returning her clothes, she was no longer wearing the ragged dress and cloak that they had stolen, and was back in her jeans and leather jacket. Something that, Killian’s voice reminded her, hasn’t come into vogue, ever. So… she had to be careful. They just fixed the timeline; they cannot ruin it all over again.

But Killian was worth that risk.

As she clung to the dark areas of town, Emma was reminded of a younger her, living on the streets, dodging shadowy corners to pitch black alleyways. It was evening, the sky blackening with an array of stars, but the town still bustled with life, mostly around the taverns. 

Emma passed the tavern she and Killian had found his past-self in, and Emma risked a look inside, but he wasn’t there. 

Her heart quickening, Emma suddenly worried he wasn’t even in town.

She picked up her pace, following the path past-Hook had led her down when he’d been her inebriated guide. 

Emma emerged from the cover of an alley, looking up to see the sea, and ships of all sizes moored at the docks. And among them—

Emma felt relief flood her. 

The Jolly Roger. 

She smiled despite herself, picking up her pace. As she got closer, she could see the crew retracting the anchor—

They were leaving. 

Her heart pounding, Emma began to sprint. 

With grunts of heaving, two members of the Jolly’s crew were lifting the gangplank.

It was halfway up when Emma got to it, flinging herself off the dock and onto it, barely making the jump. She slid down the wood, landing in a heap on the deck. 

“What in the blazes—?!”

The two men nearly dropped the gangplank, but managed to finish shutting it, faster, as if worrying that someone else was going to attempt Emma’s jump. 

Her entire body throbbing from the mistreatment, Emma slowly picked herself up from the deck. She quickly noticed at least a dozen pirates were staring at her in shock. 

But a voice broke through the din, and Emma would recognize it anywhere. 

“Well, you don’t bloody see something like that every day.”

-.-.-.

Despite her protests, Emma had been manhandled by two of the crew members and dragged into the Captain’s Quarters a moment after she’d seen him. He’d witnessed her reckless jump onto his ship, but hadn’t said a word to her yet. 

She was currently in the chair opposite his desk, two burly hands on her shoulders keeping her pinned down, and Hook was in his chair behind the desk, staring at her in silence. 

“What are you doing aboard my ship?” he said finally. 

Emma flicked her eyes to the pirate holding her down, then back to Hook. “I’ll tell you, but only you.”

Hook sighed, then flicked his eyes to the man behind her, giving a minute nod and a slight roll of his eyes. Then, when the door clicked shut, he gave her a pointed look.

Emma let out a breath, her heart beating in a frenzy. This Hook was not half as drunk as he was when they last met. His gaze on her was cold and measured and there was no trace of the softness Killian had now. It unnerved her, this air of danger he held, sitting before her. Waiting. 

But Emma swallowed, trying to remember, this is still Killian. Just… buried under two hundred years of pain and resentment. 

It didn’t make her feel better. 

“I need your help.” said Emma at last, holding his gaze. 

His brow lifted, like that was the last thing he’d expected her to say. “My help?” he echoed, lips twisting a little in amusement. “I’m a pirate captain, lass. You’ve mistaken me for someone who gives. Pirates take.”

Emma resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the irony that all he’s done the past two years was give. 

Worry fluttered in her stomach, suddenly wondering if her Killian was all right.

And when did he start being ‘her’ Killian?

Emma let out another breath. “Yeah, that’s actually what brings me here. All I need to know,” said Emma slowly, “is who you stole from last night.” 

She’d thought it through; if she could just get the name or the place of the person who he’d stolen from, she could go find Killian without Hook ever needing to know she was from the future. 

Hook paused. 

Suspicion suddenly gleamed in his eyes. 

He stood, and rounded his desk until he was standing before her. 

The suspicion only deepened in his eyes.

Emma could feel the danger radiate off him like a cologne. 

She was trying not to shrink under his intense gaze when he leaned even closer, his face inches from hers. He searched her eyes.

“You,” he whispered. “I remember you.”

Emma’s heart skipped. “You do?” she breathed. 

She should have known it was irrational to think he meant he remembered knowing her. 

Because his eyes narrowed, coldness in the blue. “You owe me a nightcap, love.”

Emma froze. “Oh,” she said, biting her lip. “Didn’t blame the rum, huh?”

He leaned back slightly, but looked no less predatory. “I’m guessing this is from you as well,” he said, brushing the metal of his hook to his cheek where Killian had hit him. 

Emma winced. “Not exactly—“

He was suddenly in her face again, eyes narrowed, colder than ice. “You were trying to get me drunk. To get on my ship,” he muttered. “Why?”

Oops.

Emma tried to think fast. 

She did not like a version of Killian that scared her, and this one did exactly that. 

As if to prove the point, he raised his hook, tracing her jaw until the tip was underneath her chin, forcing her head up. Emma gasped reflexively, suddenly realizing how bad of an idea this had been. “Tell me,” he hissed, “or this will be rather unpleasant.”

Emma swallowed, trying to stem the rush of fear. To hell with the timeline. “I’m from the future.”

His brow rose sharply, surprise and a little confusion slipping into that cold expression. Clearly time travel was not one of the things he’d expected her to say. 

It was the second time she’d surprised him, and Emma knew he wasn’t an easily surprised man.

Before he could interrupt, she went on, wincing as the sharp tip of his hook stung. “I’m telling you the truth,” she said quickly, fear sending a shiver down her spine. “I’m from… about thirty years in the future. I think. It’s really hard to keep track with all the curses," she finished, which even to her ears sounded like she was crazy.

“Time travel is unheard of.” said Hook, dismissing her whole story.

"You spend two hundred years on an island where time doesn't even exist and this is too crazy for you to imagine?" snapped Emma exasperatedly.

He ignored her. ��Now, what are you really doing on my ship? Clearly if you’d gotten what you wanted, you wouldn’t have been daft enough to return.” His eyes looked her up and down, his brow lifting when his eyes reached hers, and Emma glared at him. “And if I had gotten what I wanted, that night would not have ended with you injuring me.” A cold smile. “Well, not in the traditional way, anyway.”

Emma huffed out a breath, almost forgetting just how innuendo-clad he once was. “Look, I’m telling the truth . I need your help to—“ She gasped, the tip of his hook digging slightly deeper. 

“You will tell me what I want to know,” said Hook quietly. He removed his namesake, and Emma winced. “I’ll give you the night to think it over. Lie to me again," his voice lowering, dipping into the personification of danger as his gaze bored into hers, and she tried not to shrink under it, "you’ll be walking the plank in the morning.” He moved away from her, and Emma realized she'd forgotten how to breathe.

“Hook—“ began Emma, but Hook simply barked, “Jenkins!”

The door opened, and one of the men who had dragged her down here walked inside. 

“Take her to the brig.”

Emma’s heart pounded. “No— Hook,” she said quickly as he sat nonchalantly back at his desk. “I need—“

Emma was grabbed from behind and forced out. 

He didn’t look up as they took her. 

But when he thought she was out of sight, she saw him briefly touch his fingers to his lips, something unreadable stirring in his eyes.

-.-.-.-.

Emma waited until she was left alone, and the ship had quieted down enough to suggest the crew was asleep.

They’d bound her hands in front of her, which was their first mistake. 

Feeling a sense of deja vu, Emma felt along the ground until she found something useful. Finding something sharp and thin enough to work, she quickly got to work on the lock to the cage. 

The trouble was opening the door without it creaking, which took her plenty of precious minutes. 

Once free, she left the brig, and quietly made her way to the armory.

It was good that she was familiar with the ship after Neverland. Plenty of hours on the water had her nervous energy getting the better of herself and she’d done some extensive exploring. She’d paced the ship enough to know where its creaky boards were, so she was inside the armory in silence quickly. 

Emma grabbed the first blade she could find—a knife—and freed her hands, then took the gag from her mouth. 

Gripping the knife in her shaking hands, Emma left the armory, walking down the hallway to the door at the very end. 

The Captain’s Quarters. 

Feeling plenty of uncertainty, but needing to know where Killian was, Emma slowly reached for the door handle, glad the ridiculously loud chorus of snoring from the crew covered much of the noise she made. 

Slowly and without breathing, she opened his door. 

Emma shut it just as quietly, and the noise of the snoring was muted. 

Emma turned. 

The cabin was dark. 

And there, lying on his bed, was Hook. Asleep.

She could see him breathe beneath the blanket. 

Carefully, and avoiding every creak in the floor she knew of, Emma crept up to his bed. 

Then, she held the knife an inch from his throat, opening her mouth to wake him.

“Do I need to explain what a nightcap is to you?”

Emma jumped a mile in her skin.

Hook’s eyes were open, and he looked from the knife at his throat to Emma. A raised brow, he deadpanned, “You escaped.”

“You underestimated me.” she countered. He lifted his brow as Emma continued firmly, “I need you to help me.”

“Help me?” he echoed. His eyes flicked from the knife to her eyes. “You’re taking your life in your hands threatening me, lass.” he said dangerously.

“I’m trying to save your life!” snapped Emma.

His brow hitched higher, again flicking his eyes pointedly to the blade, then back at her. 

Emma sighed, removing the knife from his throat. 

He still didn’t move, eyeing her still suspiciously. “How is it you think you’re saving me?” he asked. 

Emma sighed shortly. “Look. I told you I was from the future. I am. I’m from your future. And I didn’t get sent to the past alone.” She took a breath, hoping telling him wouldn’t implode the timeline. But she was scared, she was alone, and without his information, she would never be able to find Killian. She could only hope that after she saved Killian, he’d still exist when they returned to their time. 

Emma sighed. “When I got sent here, you came with me.” she said finally.

Confusion kneaded his brows with honest puzzlement, and for the first time he looked almost like her Killian. “I… what?” he managed.

Emma sighed shortly. “You— future you,” clarified Emma. “You’re here, in the past, too.”

Hook looked lost in thought for a second. Then— “That was bloody real?”

“What was?” asked Emma.

He sat up, regarding her with both suspicion and shock. “The dream I thought I had of you, up until you foolishly returned.” Emma glared at him flatly as he went on, “I saw…”

“Yourself,” finished Emma impatiently. “Yeah. You punched yourself.” At his very perplexed expression, she went on, “I told him—you—it was a bad idea. So, blame yourself.” He blinked in utter confusion. But, at least, he seemed to believe her story. “Look,” said Emma, “we were on our way back to the future when some huge guys kidnapped him because they said he stole something and he needed to ‘pay for it’.” she finished in a bad facsimile of Killian’s abductor’s voice. Her eyes burning into Hook’s, she said, “What did you steal? Who are they and where did they take him?”

“You’re telling me,” said Hook slowly, “that there is a future version of me out here?”

“Yes,” said Emma through gritted teeth. “Now what did you—“

“Tell me, love,” said Hook casually enough, though the coldness in his words was back. “What is my future?”

“I can’t tell you that,” she said exasperatedly. “Already I need to get you a Forgetting Potion to make sure you get to that future.”

He stared at her for a long moment, a million things happening behind guarded eyes. But finally, his brow lifted a fraction. “And I’m just supposed to believe this?" 

Emma groaned. “What proof do you want?” she said impatiently. “Your father abandoned you and Liam; you used to be in the Royal Navy; you became a pirate after what happened to Liam in Neverland; you’re currently on a suicidal mission to kill Rumplestiltskin for taking your hand and Mila—“

“Stop!” 

Emma froze, having been angrily ticking off the trivia on her fingers, to see Hook’s eyes with more emotion than she’s seen from this version of him yet. 

“How do you know all that?” he breathed. For once, his voice lost Hook’s edge, and he sounded like Killian. The danger evaporated from him in seconds, replaced with something almost... lost. “It’s—it's been centuries since—"

“You told me.” said Emma simply. 

“I… told you,” repeated Hook flatly, words rolling off his tongue like something foreign. The edge in his voice swiftly returned as he demanded angrily, “And why the bloody hell would I do that?” 

“How should I know?” snapped Emma, her anxiety getting to her and sharpening her own tone.

He rose to his feet, and Emma did not like the feeling that he was attempting to use his height over hers to intimidate her. He leveled a look at her, with something different in his eyes, something dangerous in a new way. “Tell me one thing, lass," he began, voice casual-sounding, but underlined with something that sent a shiver down her spine, "and maybe I help you.”

“Why wouldn’t you help me?” exclaimed Emma, standing her ground. “You’d be helping you!”

“That remains to be seen.” He stepped toward her, and damn it he didn’t even need the hook to be imposing. “Tell me, lass.” Another step, and Emma felt her back hit the wall, not even realizing she’d been retreating. His gaze bored into hers. “Do I get my revenge?”

Emma swallowed, suddenly feeling a familiar sense of dread as to when the past version of Rumplestiltskin had asked about whether or not he found Neal.

When the silence spread a little too long, she whispered, “Hook—”

“Do I, or not?” he demanded, voice clipped. Cold.

Dangerous.

Emma felt paralyzed.

The Hook—the Killian —standing before her was completely hellbent on getting his revenge. He’s been at it for centuries, and the anger and pain in his eyes overpowered the blue in them, so much so it was hard to remember that Killian and Hook were the same person.

And here, Hook was his vengeance right now.

There was hardly a spark of him.

If she told him the truth, that he not only doesn’t kill his crocodile, but chooses to live peacefully in the same town as the monster? Gives up not only his quest for vengeance, but turns into a hero?

And worse yet, that he lets go of Milah?

For her?

From the amount of anger she’s eliciting from him right now, she doubted he’d be happy to know that information in particular.

So, she decided to tell him the truth.

Or…

Part of it.

“No,” she said finally, watching his brow shift dangerously. “Not yet.”

He searched her eyes, his face like stone. “Not yet?” he repeated, voice low, almost threatening.

Emma swallowed the fear slipping down her spine, hoping she was still as good of a liar as she once was. “Not yet,” she confirmed, which, still, wasn’t a complete lie. She took a breath, holding his gaze, preparing herself. 

And she lied.

“I’m helping you get your revenge in the future,” she said smoothly. “The Dark One is currently living in a realm without magic. He’s vulnerable. I’m helping you get there.” She swallowed, her entire body rigid. Hook was pin-silent as Emma finished, “We accidentally got sent to the past on our way there. That’s why I need you to help me. If you don’t, you will never get your revenge.”

Emma fell quiet, holding her head high, clinging onto confidence she didn’t feel in the slightest.

Killian could read her like an open book.

If this version of him was as perceptive as he comes to be…

If he found her lying to him…

Again …

Emma tried to ignore the fear prickling in her veins.

He held her gaze, pinning her to the spot with his eyes alone. Watching her eyes carefully, his narrowed. 

Finally, he said, “Why are you helping me?”

Emma tried not to flinch at the obvious distaste in his voice. She thought fast, and found something that held nothing but truth. “Because,” she said, “you did me a favor. I’m repaying a debt.”

His brow lifted. “Quite the debt.”

Emma felt something stir in her chest, thinking of all that Killian has done for her. “It was quite the favor,” she said quietly.

His brows kneaded with question, like he wasn’t sure why he would bother to do her a favor.

Emma was quickly becoming irritated with this version of Hook.

“How are you helping me?” he asked then, gaze boring into hers, almost as if he was trying to poke holes into her story to see if it would leak. “Why do I need you?”

It was spoken so carelessly.

And it hurt.

Emma was surprised at the sudden burn behind her eyes.

She’d brushed off Killian’s affections, his obvious devotion to her, more times than she could count. 

And here he was, looking at her like he couldn’t have cared about her less.

How could she have wasted all the time she had with him?

Getting him back now was the longest of long shots, for—and it made sharp fear race down her spine— he could already be dead.

Blinking away the emotion, Emma huffed out a breath, trying not to appear as hurt by his words as she was. “I’ve got Light Magic,” she snapped, making surprise lift his brow. “You’re trying to kill the Dark One. Do the math.”

He stared at her for a long moment, eyes narrowed, danger rolling off him in waves.

Finally, he spoke.

“I help you, and, him,” he muttered, uneasily over what to call his future self, “get back to your time,” he said slowly, “and then I will get what I want most?”

Emma felt the ghost of a smile touch her lips, for she didn’t have to lie for this one. “Yes.” 

He most definitely will. 

-.-.-.-. TBC

@belovedcreation-kitr-headcanon @cssecretsanta2020 @belovedcreation

[cssecretsanta2020]

Such a cute stolen moment!

Memories of a Merry Little Christmas

Mewy xmas @snowbellewells ! Tis I, Mocha/Santa haha it's been a pleasure to try to keep my identity covered for the @cssecretsanta2020 ! I gather that I might be sort of spot on if I was to offert you directly some art haha soo I did those little memory pieces out of pure love, fluff and xmas memories you've shared with me ♥ Hope you will like them! Oh and Tipsy said, there's small fragment of memories that goes with each art more or less *winkwink*

Lots of love&hugs, Jules'

~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~

All is quiet, the beauty of the fresh white coat covering all before it gets trampled and melts...

All I can hear is the crisp crunch of freshly fallen snow under your feet

All I can see is your icy blue eyes shinning even more when you smile

All I can smell is the scent of chocolate and cinnamon your golden hair captured

There is something so peaceful - and it seems almost magic...

And what makes it true, is to be with you

And suddenly the air fill with the memory of you humming this morning

Have yourself a merry little Christmas Let your heart be light...

[cssecretsanta2020]

SUCH A FUN SCENE glad i went looking for it

Merry Christmas @hollyethecurious 💚 I am your secret santa. I hope you enjoy this digital drawing!

(ps. I’m sorry it’s not a video, my laptop crashed and my software wouldn’t open😫)

[cssecretsanta2020]

These are stunning pieces

Hey @laianely it is I your secret Santa here with an edit of one of your favorite scenes. First off all, belated Merry Christmas and a happy new year in advance. I hope you're staying safe and that you had amazing time.

I also do apologize for the delay...its been a rough time. I however, did love working on your presents (yes plural, I'm still working on the fic and seeing if the video edit is salvageable). Hopefully they are, I'm so excited to share the fic with you asap and I'm hoping you like both the fic and the edit. I shall stop rambling now. Stay safe and happy.

Signing off with a dumb meme- captain candy cane hook

I would also like to thank @cssecretsanta2020 for hosting the event this year. It was a blast to be a part of it- can't forget my lovely Santa helper @eddisfargo either- wouldn't have been able to have planned out the plot without them. Wishing you all happy holidays and take care!

[cssecretsanta2020]

This is such a sweet cs family holiday gift!

Gingerbread Houses and Plays and Christmas! Oh My! Captain Swan Secret Santa 2024

For @whimsicallyenchantedrose! Surprise! I'm your Santa and here is, as promised, Part 1! Part 2 will be up within a week! I hope it suits your desire for canon and fluff! This is slightly canon divergent-Season 7 doesn't exist, Robin is still alive and well, and Emma and Killian did not wait as long to have Hope! I hope you enjoy!

Part of @cssecretsanta2020 for 2024!

Rating: G

Word Count: 4.6K

“I don't know Henry,” Emma said, unsure of her son's idea. 

“Mom, it would be so much fun!” Henry protested. 

“She's four, Henry.” 

“And I'm seventeen. What's that got to do with anything?” Henry asked. 

“She's just a little young to participate in that. How much could she really do, anyways?” Emma said, knowing damn well Hope could participate.

“Are you serious right now? She's so artistic and she loves helping in the kitchen. Especially with baking. There's no reason she can't make a gingerbread house.” Henry reasoned. 

“But-” 

“No. Buts. She can do it. You just don't want her to. Or do you not want to?” Henry asked, realizing his mom might be dragging her feet for another reason entirely. 

“It's not that I don't want her to, it's just a lot of sugar for such a little body. And it's so messy,” Emma replied, finally finished with washing the dishes. 

“Mom, all baking is messy to a degree. We'll just put out aluminum foil and it will be easier to clean up. Hope will help clean up too. I think she would love to make a gingerbread house.” 

“I don't think I trust Killian not to make a mess and go overboard either,” Emma hesitated, still insisting against making gingerbread houses. Henry finished wiping down the kitchen table and counters, giving Emma a pointed look.

“Killian would love to make a gingerbread house. He'd go overboard, but it would be so fun. He'd like make the Jolly Roger or something. We'd have so much fun!” Henry said, excitement lacing his words. He was getting more excited about seeing what Killian would make than fighting for Hope to make a gingerbread house. 

“A lot is going on right now, Henry. Christmas is coming up and we've got like 22 parties to attend or host, and I just don't think-” Emma started. 

“Have you ever made a gingerbread house before?” Henry interrupted. 

“What?!” Emma asked, startled by his bluntness. 

“Have you ever made a gingerbread house before?” Henry repeated, slower this time. They were standing just a few feet apart near the kitchen sink. 

“I heard what you said!” 

“Then why did-” Henry began. 

“No! Okay! Fine. I've never made a gingerbread house before. I don't know the first thing about it besides that those kits are expensive for no reason. I never lived with a family around Christmas where we made gingerbread houses, and I wasn't exactly in the position to request something so frivolous. I was lucky enough to have a bed and not be out in the cold. How am I supposed to teach Hope how to make a gingerbread house if I have no idea how to do it?” Emma finally elaborated, talking with her hands while tears lined her eyelids. 

“Mom, why didn't you just say so? We could learn and help Hope and Killian too. I've only ever made one once, and that was last year with Roland. Mom didn't buy the kits for me growing up, she would just make some other desserts or whatever. I'm glad I had her, but Christmas was lonely with just Mom. I don't want Hope not to have memories just because I've never done it before. Where's your sense of adventure? Did going to Neverland and the Enchanted Forest and the Underworld really never prepare you for some gingerbread houses?” Henry asked, trying to make his mom see how ridiculous she was being right now. Emma had light tears running down her pink cheeks, smiling sadly at her son. 

“I'm sorry I wasn't around to-” 

“Stop, Mom. It's alright. Everything worked out like it should. I think we should try our hands at gingerbread houses. How bad could the Jones's really be at a baked house?” 

“Fine. But if there's a giant mess, you're cleaning it up.” Emma agreed. They shared a quick hug before they were off for the day. Emma had to go to work at the Sheriff’s Station, and Henry had to go to school to take a fall semester final. Killian had left with Hope right after breakfast to take her to her preschool, and then Killian was going to work at the Sheriff’s Station as well. 

-------CS-------

Later that day after his final, Henry met up with Killian for lunch at one of the small restaurants on the Storybrooke pier that sold locally caught seafood. Henry was excitedly telling Killian all about the tradition of making gingerbread houses. 

“How do the walls and ceilings of these homes stay upright? Are the pieces of this gingerbread soft and moist?” Killian questioned. 

“Literally never say “moist” again.” Henry chided his stepfather. 

“Why not? It's a great adjective to describe other things. The moist air, the moist oatmeal, the moist pork roast, the moist-” 

“Stop! It's literally the grossest possible word to describe something with. Just say ‘wet’” Henry said, contorting his face to visually display his disgust. 

“You are quite dramatic lad. It's just descriptive terminology.”

“Oh my God you're the oldest person alive!” Henry nearly whined. 

“Well, quite possibly besides your grandfather on your father's side. He's several centuries older than-” Killian said. 

“It was a figure of speech, Killian,” Henry replied. There was never a dull moment with Killian. “And anyways, no, the gingerbread pieces are hard. You use frosting or icing to stick the pieces together. You also decorate it with icing and you can add little pieces of candy, sprinkles, chocolate chips, gumdrops, candy canes, edible glitter or-”

“Edible glitter? What a horrid invention. Why would one want to ingest that creation of Hades!” Everyone knew that Killian hated glitter, which became especially apparent when his beloved daughter had quite a talent for art and enjoyed glitter as an accessory to her art. 

“It's just something people use on gingerbread houses. We don't have to get any. It's just something that exists. So, are you in?” Henry asked. 

“In? If my wife, daughter, and son are involved, then yes I'm in,” Killian replied. “I just have one further question.” 

“Shoot.” Henry said, ready for another ridiculous rampage about the English language and the ‘teenage vernacular’ as Killian loved to call it. 

“Does one have to create a house?” Killian smirked. 

-------CS-------

Emma was tired. It was the Christmas Season, and she hadn’t seen her Mom so excited about anything until it was December and time for Christmas. Snow had planned out seemingly the entire month of December. Between their family get-togethers with different parts of the family, the Storybrooke tradition of a holiday party at the town hall, and Christmas shopping and decorating- they were busy. Emma had another excuse altogether to be tired, and she was determined not to ruin the surprise and let her parents know early. Killian and Henry helped plan the perfect opportunity to tell her parents that Emma and Killian were expecting their second child at the end of Spring. Emma would be over four months pregnant by the time it was Christmas, and she had been so careful not to show signs of tiredness or morning sickness in front of her parents. Luckily it was winter, so she’d been able to bundle up with oversized sweaters, sweatshirts, and jackets to prevent her nosy mother, or the rest of the meddling town, from realizing that she was showing. 

“Emma!” Someone called her name from her side, ending her musings. She looked to her left to see Belle walking up. 

“Hey Belle! How are you?” Emma greeted, happy to see Belle. In the last several years, Belle had really blossomed. Motherhood suited her well, and she loved Gideon more than anything. Gideon loved playing with the other children all related to Emma somehow or another. Gideon and Emma's younger brother Neal were close, as there was only a two year age gap between them. Neal was 10 now, and Gideon was 8. They also enjoyed playing with Zelena’s daughter Robin, who was nearly seven. Hope was a little younger than them at 4, but she still tried to join in when all the kids were together. Mostly Hope played with Emma's younger sister, Margaret Ruth. “Ruthie” as she was lovingly called by some of the kids, was a year younger than Hope. They might as well be twins for as much as they are together. Ruthie had dark black hair like their mother, and Hope had Emma's blonde curls, but the girls were clearly related. Emma was standing outside the preschool entrance of the elementary school because it was her day to pick up Hope and Ruth from preschool before walking around to the elementary entrance and picking up Neal. Emma typically ran into Belle, Zelena, or Regina while picking up the kids, so it was not at all odd that Belle was standing in front of Emma. 

“I'm doing good! We have been planning like crazy for Santa's visit to the library happening tomorrow. After ‘Santa’ reads the kids' group a Christmas book, all the kids in attendance can take their picture with Santa. We still have a few more finishing touches, but I think we are ready to go other than that. Gideon and I are heading back to the library to finish up.” Belle explained. Despite the stress of her event, Belle looked energized and excited. Emma wished she felt half as energized as Belle looked. “How are you doing?” Belle asked. 

“I'm alright. Just tired from everything going on right now. I mean between working and Hope being a toddler and Christmas gatherings and gift wrapping and ugh. It's just a lot right now. But I'm glad to hear your event at the library sounds like it will be smooth sailing!” Emma said as enthusiastically as she could manage. 

“It is a busy time, and I am so glad I don't have a toddler on my hands! Gideon has been a lot of help around the library and at home. Are you still planning on stopping by with Hope at the library tomorrow?” 

“Well, kind of. Hope and Killian will be stopping by, and I think my dad and Margaret Ruth are coming as well. I'm at the station all day tomorrow so I might be able to stop by, but Killian is for sure bringing Hope.” Emma explained. 

“That sounds lovely! I'm excited to have the girls there!” Belle finished right before Hope's voice stopped the women's conversation. 

“Mama! Hi! I missed you today!” Hope excitedly yelled while running towards Emma. 

“Be careful little love! We don't need you falling and hurting yourself!” Emma said, genuinely thrilled to see her daughter. Hope threw herself in her mother's arms and Emma hugged her close to her chest. “Hey sweet girl,” Emma murmured in her daughter's soft curls. “I missed you too.” 

“Emmy!” Margaret Ruth called, prompting Emma to put Hope down and embrace her sister. 

“Hey Ruthie, how was your day at school?” Emma greeted the toddler. 

“Good! We makes some ornaments for da twees! Our faces on dem!” Ruthie said, excited to tell her big sister all about her class’s craft. 

“Oh, your picture is on the ornaments you made? Mommy and Daddy are going to love that Ruthie girl.” Emma said, taking both girls by the hand before walking with Belle towards the elementary school entrance. The preschool was released about 10 minutes earlier than the elementary school, which gave parents of kids in both grades time to get their kids. The girls were both excitedly telling the women about their school day, and before long, Gideon and Neal came barreling out of the school doors and headed straight to the women. 

“Hey, Ems! Ruthie! Hopey!” Neal called before embracing all three in hugs. Despite their age difference, Neal loved Emma and the two were close. Neal also loved Henry and followed him around wherever Henry went. “Hey, Mrs. Belle!” Neal greeted. 

“Hey Neal, it's good to see you. Behave for your sister this afternoon!” Belle said before the Gold's said their goodbyes and headed off toward the library. Emma, Hope, Margaret Ruth, and Neal all headed towards Emma's house.��

“After snack when we get home, I think Henry wanted to practice the play with you guys. Aunt Regina will drop off Roland and Robin in a bit so you guys can practice. Gideon has to help his Mom today, but he'll be back to practicing soon.” Emma said, trying to prepare the kids for play practice. 

Henry had this grand idea that the kids of their family should reenact a story from one of their adventures in front of the entire family on Christmas Eve night at Regina and Robin's house. Henry was using this opportunity for his senior project for school. He was using his storytelling abilities through writing, directing, working with children, artistic design, and theatre for his project, and he was determined that they would be ready, toddlers and all, by Christmas Eve where he would film the performance and submit it in the spring semester. They had started practicing last week, and none of the parents complained about free babysitting during the busiest time of the year. 

-------CS-------

“Emmy! Emmy! Emmy!” Emma woke with a start, her little sister's hands on her arm. Emma took in her surroundings and saw that she was on her couch in her living room, and there seemed to be no apparent enemy or villain or situation wrong. 

“What's wrong Margaret Ruth?” Emma asked, wiping sleep from her eyes. She didn't even remember sitting on the couch, let alone falling asleep. 

“I had an accident! I ti-ti-ed in my pull-up!” Margaret Ruth said, panic on her face. 

“It's alright! We'll get you cleaned up and in a new pull-up. Come on kid,” Emma pulled her sister towards the hall bath and got her cleaned up. As Emma was helping her on the step stool to wash her hands, her sister spoke up. 

“Why you sweepy, Emmy?” 

“I don't know, kid. I'm just really tired.” Emma replied, trying to end the conversation. Her little sister, however, was exactly like their mother and was not about to let something go. 

“Did you not go to bed when Mommy said so?” Margaret Ruth questioned. 

“Remember I'm a big girl. Mommy doesn't tell me when to go to sleep because I live in my own house.” Emma answered. 

“You live here with Uncle Kilwy and Henwy and Hope!” Margaret Ruth responded. 

“That's right. And since I'm a big girl and I don't live with Mommy and Daddy, they don't tell me what to do or when to go to bed. When you are a big girl and you live in your own place, you won't have to listen to Mommy and Daddy anymore either” Emma explained. 

“But you still listen to Mommy,” the toddler said as she finished wiping her hands on the hand towel with Emma's help. 

“Not all the time,” Emma said, thrown off that her sister would call out her listening skills. 

“Mhmm! When Mommy says you have to come to our house, you do! When Mommy says to pick me up from school, you do! When Mommy says to make pasta for dinner, you do! You listen to Mommy all the time!” Margaret Ruth exclaimed, using her hands for emphasis. Emma stared at the child realizing that she does listen a lot to their mother. Before Emma could continue this conversation, there was a knock on the door. 

“Who do you think that is, Ruthie?” Emma asked, walking towards her front door. 

“Mommy!” She said, running towards the door. 

“Don't open that until I see who it is!” Emma warned. Upon seeing that their guest was, in fact, their mother, Emma unlocked the door and opened it to reveal Snow standing on the front porch, cheeks rosy from the cold. 

“Mommy!” Ruth cried again, leaping into their mother's arms. 

“Ruthie! It's my two girls!” Snow said, before stepping inside and embracing Emma in a hug too. “How are you, honey?” Snow asked the toddler. 

“Emmy was asweep Mommy!” Ruthie said, telling on her older sister. 

“Asleep?” Snow said, giving Emma a questioning look. 

“I just dozed off on the couch for a few minutes while the kids were downstairs with Henry. Ruthie is convinced that I didn't go to bed when you told me to last night,” Emma said, smiling playfully at her younger sister. 

“Emma doesn't go to bed when I tell her, honey. She's a big girl. She goes to bed whenever she wants. Maybe she was too busy to go to bed early last night, Ruth,” Snow said, giving Emma a pointed look. 

“Mom!” Emma said, cheeks reddening at her mother's implications. 

“Why were you busy, Emmy?” her sister questioned innocently. 

“I wasn't!” Emma said sharply. Luckily, Henry called for Margaret Ruth to come back downstairs so they could practice the play one more time today. The little girl leaped out of their mother's arms before heading downstairs. Although her sister was gone, Snow's pointed eyebrow raise and smirk were another battle entirely. 

“What?” Emma asked her mother. 

“Why were you asleep?” Snow asked. 

“I told you. I was tired, so I dozed off for a few minutes while the kids were downstairs,” Emma said. 

“But that's not like you. Why were you so tired?” Snow pushed. 

“Mom, it's Christmas. I have a toddler. I guess I didn't sleep well last night. Why are you making a big deal about this?”

“I have a toddler too. Why don't you just drink some coffee to wake you up?” Snow said, watching Emma's facial expressions closely. 

“I don't drink a lot of coffee,” Emma said evenly, not falling that easily into her mother's trap. 

“Emma, dear, what's going on?” 

“Nothing. I'm tired. It's a normal feeling. I'll make sure I go to bed early tonight.” Emma replied. 

“Were you up too late making pancakes?” Snow asked bluntly. 

“Mom! No. Would you stop!” Emma said, cheeks heating up again. 

“Come on, Emma! We can talk about these things!” Snow pleaded. 

“No, we cannot! You are my mother. I am not talking to my mother about my intimate relationship with my husband! This has never been something I want to talk to you about!” Emma said, slightly annoyed that her mother still didn’t get the picture. 

“But we were friends first! We've talked about this stuff before!” 

“Yeah, before I knew you were my mother and David was my father! Now, I don't want to hear about your relationship, and I don't want to talk about mine!” Emma snapped quietly, knowing the kids were just down a flight of stairs from their PG-13 conversation in the kitchen. The front door opened abruptly, quieting the women as their husbands walked through the front door in an animated discussion. David and Killian were excitedly engaged in some conversation that sounded suspiciously like gingerbread making. 

“Dad! Great. Glad you're here. Please, please! Take your wife home. Oh, and your kids. But mostly your wife.” Emma said, giving her father a pointed look that meant Snow had gone too far with something. 

“Hey, Emma. Glad to see you too, sweetheart,” David replied, giving his daughter a quick hug before embracing his wife. Killian hung his coat up and slipped off his boots before he made his way towards Emma, enveloping her in a hug that warmed Emma's soul.

“Hi, love. It’s good to see you” Killian commented, running his hand absentmindedly up and down his wife’s back. Emma cuddled closer to Killian but kept a wary eye on her mother, afraid she would again bring up Emma’s tiredness or Emma’s relationship in the bedroom. The last thing she wanted was to talk to her Dad of all people about anything involving her intimate time with Killian besides surprising David with a third grandchild. 

Before Snow could bring up anything about Emma, Henry and the kids came up the stairs, with Henry telling the children he was proud of them for their hard work. Before she had rounded the top stair completely, Hope had seen Killian and bounded towards him, cuddling herself in his arms when he bent down to pick her up. Margaret Ruth and Neal headed for their parents, but Neal couldn't help from stealing a hug from Killian, and another from Emma. Roland and Robin headed out the door with goodbyes as they walked home. The Charmings were quickly out the door, and then it was just Emma, Killian, Henry, and Hope in the Swan-Jones household. Henry began animatedly telling his parents and sister how the play practice was going. He wouldn't give up the specific adventure that was being reenacted, but he did say it was going well and he was excited for them to see it all together at Regina's house on Christmas Eve. 

“That's a fortnight away, lad. Do you think all the children will be ready by then?” Killian asked as he prepared dinner for the family. 

“I think so. It will be better once Gideon can come back and play in his role” Henry said after pondering his stepfather's question. 

“Why wasn't Gideon over today?” Killian questioned. 

“Oh! Babe, the Santa library book reading thing!” Emma said, forgetting the name of Belle's event. 

“The library book reading thing?” Killian asked, confused by his wife's description. 

“The event Belle is hosting at the Storybrooke Library. Santa is going to read a story to the kids' book club then there will be pictures with Santa after. I was going to take Hope, but tomorrow I'm working all day. I told Belle you would take Hope, and that Dad would take Margaret Ruth.” Emma elaborated. 

“Ah, yes. Belle was telling me about this event just the other day. I had forgotten what day it was. Very well, the little pirate and I will venture over to the library as soon as school gets out tomorrow,” Killian replied. 

“Oh! That reminds me, I need to tell Dad the plan. Let me call him right quick!” Emma said. She walked out of the room to call her father, while Killian just shook his head and smiled good-naturedly. 

“Your mother's more scatterbrained than usual,” Killian mused aloud, making sure to be broad enough that his daughter wouldn't pick up on why her mother was scatterbrained. 

“Yeah, and not telling Grandma and Grandpa is slowly killing her. Margaret Ruth found her asleep on the couch earlier and told all the kids about how ‘Emmy’ was asleep and that she was too busy to go to sleep early last night,” Henry told Killian. 

“Gods, your grandparents could still figure it out yet. I think Emma would be crushed if they found out before we told them. She's been trying so hard to hide everything from them” Killian responded. Emma was back in the kitchen before long, and the family enjoyed their quiet evening together before Emma did, in fact, go to bed early. 

-------CS-------

“David! It's good to see you mate!” Killian said across the schoolyard. The men were waiting for their preschoolers to get out of school so they could go to Belle's event at the library. 

“Hey Killian! You too. How was this morning at the sheriff's station?” David responded. 

“Slow. Just a few citations for illegal parking, but nothing crazy. I am thankful for the slow days,” Killian replied just as the doors to the school opened and some preschoolers came running out. Hope and Margaret Ruth came towards the men, both excitedly greeting their fathers. 

“Hi Grandpa! I saw Grandma today in the lunchroom! She gave me a hug!” Hope excitedly explained. 

“That's awesome sweetheart. I'm so glad you got to see her today. Are you two ready to see Mrs. Belle at the library?” David greeted his granddaughter. 

“Yes!” Both girls squealed. The four headed towards the library, with the two girls hand-in-hand a few steps ahead of the men. 

“So, Killian, how's Emma been doing?”

“Emma is fine. You saw her last night, Dave,” Killian responded evenly. 

“Well, I know I saw her, but how is she actually?” David inquired. 

“She's actually fine,” Killian mimicked. 

“No, listen, Snow was telling me last night that she's concerned about Emma. Said she was really tired recently and even fell asleep yesterday afternoon and Margaret Ruth woke her up. It's just unusual behavior for our girl who seems to be constantly running and always on the go,” David elaborated. 

“Oh, you needn't worry, mate. Emma's just tired because we've been staying up later than usual wrapping presents and decorating the house for the holidays. Emma's just worried about making it a good Christmas for Hope since she will probably remember this Christmas. We've been putting Hope to bed and then wrapping presents together in the evenings. It's just a busy time.” 

“So, you're sure she's alright? I mean Snow brought up that her appetite has been weird and fluctuating and she's been irritable and short with people. We're just worried parents,” David replied.

“A few weeks back Emma had a sinus cold, which was affecting her eating patterns. She's been stressed about Christmas and holiday gatherings and such, so that's probably why she's appeared short-tempered. I assure you, mate, Emma is in perfect health. And if something was truly wrong, you know I would tell you and Snow.” Killian said, trying desperately to dodge the Prince’s questions and assure him that Emma was fine. That wasn't a lie. Emma truly was fine and healthy. They’d been to their OBGYN out of Storybrooke to check on the baby, and everything was progressing smoothly. Killian was honestly shocked they'd both been able to get away for an afternoon or morning under the radar with no further inquiries from Snow. 

“I guess you're right. I know you take care of her, more than I could have asked for. I believe if something wasn't right, you would have already told us. It's just - you know how Snow is. She's -” 

“A meddler?” 

“Well, yeah. She's-” 

“Overly concerned about things that are not her business?” Killian jested. 

“Hey! Well, she can sometimes be overly concerned about things. She just didn't get the chance to be Emma's mother for 28 years. She is trying to make up for lost time and can sometimes be a bit overbearing and dramatic.” 

“I know, mate. Now that I have a daughter of my own, I don't know what I'd do with myself if I lost the opportunity to watch her grow up and raise her for 28 years. I can't imagine how difficult it has been for you both. I know I speak for Emma too when I say that we are thankful to have you both in our lives, and I know she's glad her mother cares so much. It can sometimes be a bit much, that's all.” Killian said seriously, making sure to look his father-in-law in the eyes when telling him how both he and Emma felt. 

“Thank you, Killian. It means a lot. I'll try to calm Snow down and reassure her she doesn’t have to ask Emma about her tiredness. Heaven knows I'm exhausted just from having a toddler, let alone it also being almost Christmas!” David replied before the four of them were at the doors of the library and were welcomed inside by Belle dressed as a Christmas Elf. She excitedly greeted the girls inside, helped them find a seat up front, and managed the entire event with grace. Belle truly showed the town how important it is for Storybrooke to embrace the Christmas spirit by giving, being kind to each other, and spending quality time with loved ones.

[cssecretsanta2020]

This is such a sweet cs family holiday fic!

Gingerbread Houses and Plays and Christmas! Oh My! Captain Swan Secret Santa 2024

For @whimsicallyenchantedrose! Surprise! I'm your Santa and here is, as promised, Part 1! Part 2 will be up within a week! I hope it suits your desire for canon and fluff! This is slightly canon divergent-Season 7 doesn't exist, Robin is still alive and well, and Emma and Killian did not wait as long to have Hope! I hope you enjoy!

Part of @cssecretsanta2020 for 2024!

Rating: G

Word Count: 4.6K

“I don't know Henry,” Emma said, unsure of her son's idea. 

“Mom, it would be so much fun!” Henry protested. 

“She's four, Henry.” 

“And I'm seventeen. What's that got to do with anything?” Henry asked. 

“She's just a little young to participate in that. How much could she really do, anyways?” Emma said, knowing damn well Hope could participate.

“Are you serious right now? She's so artistic and she loves helping in the kitchen. Especially with baking. There's no reason she can't make a gingerbread house.” Henry reasoned. 

“But-” 

“No. Buts. She can do it. You just don't want her to. Or do you not want to?” Henry asked, realizing his mom might be dragging her feet for another reason entirely. 

“It's not that I don't want her to, it's just a lot of sugar for such a little body. And it's so messy,” Emma replied, finally finished with washing the dishes. 

“Mom, all baking is messy to a degree. We'll just put out aluminum foil and it will be easier to clean up. Hope will help clean up too. I think she would love to make a gingerbread house.” 

“I don't think I trust Killian not to make a mess and go overboard either,” Emma hesitated, still insisting against making gingerbread houses. Henry finished wiping down the kitchen table and counters, giving Emma a pointed look.

“Killian would love to make a gingerbread house. He'd go overboard, but it would be so fun. He'd like make the Jolly Roger or something. We'd have so much fun!” Henry said, excitement lacing his words. He was getting more excited about seeing what Killian would make than fighting for Hope to make a gingerbread house. 

“A lot is going on right now, Henry. Christmas is coming up and we've got like 22 parties to attend or host, and I just don't think-” Emma started. 

“Have you ever made a gingerbread house before?” Henry interrupted. 

“What?!” Emma asked, startled by his bluntness. 

“Have you ever made a gingerbread house before?” Henry repeated, slower this time. They were standing just a few feet apart near the kitchen sink. 

“I heard what you said!” 

“Then why did-” Henry began. 

“No! Okay! Fine. I've never made a gingerbread house before. I don't know the first thing about it besides that those kits are expensive for no reason. I never lived with a family around Christmas where we made gingerbread houses, and I wasn't exactly in the position to request something so frivolous. I was lucky enough to have a bed and not be out in the cold. How am I supposed to teach Hope how to make a gingerbread house if I have no idea how to do it?” Emma finally elaborated, talking with her hands while tears lined her eyelids. 

“Mom, why didn't you just say so? We could learn and help Hope and Killian too. I've only ever made one once, and that was last year with Roland. Mom didn't buy the kits for me growing up, she would just make some other desserts or whatever. I'm glad I had her, but Christmas was lonely with just Mom. I don't want Hope not to have memories just because I've never done it before. Where's your sense of adventure? Did going to Neverland and the Enchanted Forest and the Underworld really never prepare you for some gingerbread houses?” Henry asked, trying to make his mom see how ridiculous she was being right now. Emma had light tears running down her pink cheeks, smiling sadly at her son. 

“I'm sorry I wasn't around to-” 

“Stop, Mom. It's alright. Everything worked out like it should. I think we should try our hands at gingerbread houses. How bad could the Jones's really be at a baked house?” 

“Fine. But if there's a giant mess, you're cleaning it up.” Emma agreed. They shared a quick hug before they were off for the day. Emma had to go to work at the Sheriff’s Station, and Henry had to go to school to take a fall semester final. Killian had left with Hope right after breakfast to take her to her preschool, and then Killian was going to work at the Sheriff’s Station as well. 

-------CS-------

Later that day after his final, Henry met up with Killian for lunch at one of the small restaurants on the Storybrooke pier that sold locally caught seafood. Henry was excitedly telling Killian all about the tradition of making gingerbread houses. 

“How do the walls and ceilings of these homes stay upright? Are the pieces of this gingerbread soft and moist?” Killian questioned. 

“Literally never say “moist” again.” Henry chided his stepfather. 

“Why not? It's a great adjective to describe other things. The moist air, the moist oatmeal, the moist pork roast, the moist-” 

“Stop! It's literally the grossest possible word to describe something with. Just say ‘wet’” Henry said, contorting his face to visually display his disgust. 

“You are quite dramatic lad. It's just descriptive terminology.”

“Oh my God you're the oldest person alive!” Henry nearly whined. 

“Well, quite possibly besides your grandfather on your father's side. He's several centuries older than-” Killian said. 

“It was a figure of speech, Killian,” Henry replied. There was never a dull moment with Killian. “And anyways, no, the gingerbread pieces are hard. You use frosting or icing to stick the pieces together. You also decorate it with icing and you can add little pieces of candy, sprinkles, chocolate chips, gumdrops, candy canes, edible glitter or-”

“Edible glitter? What a horrid invention. Why would one want to ingest that creation of Hades!” Everyone knew that Killian hated glitter, which became especially apparent when his beloved daughter had quite a talent for art and enjoyed glitter as an accessory to her art. 

“It's just something people use on gingerbread houses. We don't have to get any. It's just something that exists. So, are you in?” Henry asked. 

“In? If my wife, daughter, and son are involved, then yes I'm in,” Killian replied. “I just have one further question.” 

“Shoot.” Henry said, ready for another ridiculous rampage about the English language and the ‘teenage vernacular’ as Killian loved to call it. 

“Does one have to create a house?” Killian smirked. 

-------CS-------

Emma was tired. It was the Christmas Season, and she hadn’t seen her Mom so excited about anything until it was December and time for Christmas. Snow had planned out seemingly the entire month of December. Between their family get-togethers with different parts of the family, the Storybrooke tradition of a holiday party at the town hall, and Christmas shopping and decorating- they were busy. Emma had another excuse altogether to be tired, and she was determined not to ruin the surprise and let her parents know early. Killian and Henry helped plan the perfect opportunity to tell her parents that Emma and Killian were expecting their second child at the end of Spring. Emma would be over four months pregnant by the time it was Christmas, and she had been so careful not to show signs of tiredness or morning sickness in front of her parents. Luckily it was winter, so she’d been able to bundle up with oversized sweaters, sweatshirts, and jackets to prevent her nosy mother, or the rest of the meddling town, from realizing that she was showing. 

“Emma!” Someone called her name from her side, ending her musings. She looked to her left to see Belle walking up. 

“Hey Belle! How are you?” Emma greeted, happy to see Belle. In the last several years, Belle had really blossomed. Motherhood suited her well, and she loved Gideon more than anything. Gideon loved playing with the other children all related to Emma somehow or another. Gideon and Emma's younger brother Neal were close, as there was only a two year age gap between them. Neal was 10 now, and Gideon was 8. They also enjoyed playing with Zelena’s daughter Robin, who was nearly seven. Hope was a little younger than them at 4, but she still tried to join in when all the kids were together. Mostly Hope played with Emma's younger sister, Margaret Ruth. “Ruthie” as she was lovingly called by some of the kids, was a year younger than Hope. They might as well be twins for as much as they are together. Ruthie had dark black hair like their mother, and Hope had Emma's blonde curls, but the girls were clearly related. Emma was standing outside the preschool entrance of the elementary school because it was her day to pick up Hope and Ruth from preschool before walking around to the elementary entrance and picking up Neal. Emma typically ran into Belle, Zelena, or Regina while picking up the kids, so it was not at all odd that Belle was standing in front of Emma. 

“I'm doing good! We have been planning like crazy for Santa's visit to the library happening tomorrow. After ‘Santa’ reads the kids' group a Christmas book, all the kids in attendance can take their picture with Santa. We still have a few more finishing touches, but I think we are ready to go other than that. Gideon and I are heading back to the library to finish up.” Belle explained. Despite the stress of her event, Belle looked energized and excited. Emma wished she felt half as energized as Belle looked. “How are you doing?” Belle asked. 

“I'm alright. Just tired from everything going on right now. I mean between working and Hope being a toddler and Christmas gatherings and gift wrapping and ugh. It's just a lot right now. But I'm glad to hear your event at the library sounds like it will be smooth sailing!” Emma said as enthusiastically as she could manage. 

“It is a busy time, and I am so glad I don't have a toddler on my hands! Gideon has been a lot of help around the library and at home. Are you still planning on stopping by with Hope at the library tomorrow?” 

“Well, kind of. Hope and Killian will be stopping by, and I think my dad and Margaret Ruth are coming as well. I'm at the station all day tomorrow so I might be able to stop by, but Killian is for sure bringing Hope.” Emma explained. 

“That sounds lovely! I'm excited to have the girls there!” Belle finished right before Hope's voice stopped the women's conversation. 

“Mama! Hi! I missed you today!” Hope excitedly yelled while running towards Emma. 

“Be careful little love! We don't need you falling and hurting yourself!” Emma said, genuinely thrilled to see her daughter. Hope threw herself in her mother's arms and Emma hugged her close to her chest. “Hey sweet girl,” Emma murmured in her daughter's soft curls. “I missed you too.” 

“Emmy!” Margaret Ruth called, prompting Emma to put Hope down and embrace her sister. 

“Hey Ruthie, how was your day at school?” Emma greeted the toddler. 

“Good! We makes some ornaments for da twees! Our faces on dem!” Ruthie said, excited to tell her big sister all about her class’s craft. 

“Oh, your picture is on the ornaments you made? Mommy and Daddy are going to love that Ruthie girl.” Emma said, taking both girls by the hand before walking with Belle towards the elementary school entrance. The preschool was released about 10 minutes earlier than the elementary school, which gave parents of kids in both grades time to get their kids. The girls were both excitedly telling the women about their school day, and before long, Gideon and Neal came barreling out of the school doors and headed straight to the women. 

“Hey, Ems! Ruthie! Hopey!” Neal called before embracing all three in hugs. Despite their age difference, Neal loved Emma and the two were close. Neal also loved Henry and followed him around wherever Henry went. “Hey, Mrs. Belle!” Neal greeted. 

“Hey Neal, it's good to see you. Behave for your sister this afternoon!” Belle said before the Gold's said their goodbyes and headed off toward the library. Emma, Hope, Margaret Ruth, and Neal all headed towards Emma's house. 

“After snack when we get home, I think Henry wanted to practice the play with you guys. Aunt Regina will drop off Roland and Robin in a bit so you guys can practice. Gideon has to help his Mom today, but he'll be back to practicing soon.” Emma said, trying to prepare the kids for play practice. 

Henry had this grand idea that the kids of their family should reenact a story from one of their adventures in front of the entire family on Christmas Eve night at Regina and Robin's house. Henry was using this opportunity for his senior project for school. He was using his storytelling abilities through writing, directing, working with children, artistic design, and theatre for his project, and he was determined that they would be ready, toddlers and all, by Christmas Eve where he would film the performance and submit it in the spring semester. They had started practicing last week, and none of the parents complained about free babysitting during the busiest time of the year. 

-------CS-------

“Emmy! Emmy! Emmy!” Emma woke with a start, her little sister's hands on her arm. Emma took in her surroundings and saw that she was on her couch in her living room, and there seemed to be no apparent enemy or villain or situation wrong. 

“What's wrong Margaret Ruth?” Emma asked, wiping sleep from her eyes. She didn't even remember sitting on the couch, let alone falling asleep. 

“I had an accident! I ti-ti-ed in my pull-up!” Margaret Ruth said, panic on her face. 

“It's alright! We'll get you cleaned up and in a new pull-up. Come on kid,” Emma pulled her sister towards the hall bath and got her cleaned up. As Emma was helping her on the step stool to wash her hands, her sister spoke up. 

“Why you sweepy, Emmy?” 

“I don't know, kid. I'm just really tired.” Emma replied, trying to end the conversation. Her little sister, however, was exactly like their mother and was not about to let something go. 

“Did you not go to bed when Mommy said so?” Margaret Ruth questioned. 

“Remember I'm a big girl. Mommy doesn't tell me when to go to sleep because I live in my own house.” Emma answered. 

“You live here with Uncle Kilwy and Henwy and Hope!” Margaret Ruth responded. 

“That's right. And since I'm a big girl and I don't live with Mommy and Daddy, they don't tell me what to do or when to go to bed. When you are a big girl and you live in your own place, you won't have to listen to Mommy and Daddy anymore either” Emma explained. 

“But you still listen to Mommy,” the toddler said as she finished wiping her hands on the hand towel with Emma's help. 

“Not all the time,” Emma said, thrown off that her sister would call out her listening skills. 

“Mhmm! When Mommy says you have to come to our house, you do! When Mommy says to pick me up from school, you do! When Mommy says to make pasta for dinner, you do! You listen to Mommy all the time!” Margaret Ruth exclaimed, using her hands for emphasis. Emma stared at the child realizing that she does listen a lot to their mother. Before Emma could continue this conversation, there was a knock on the door. 

“Who do you think that is, Ruthie?” Emma asked, walking towards her front door. 

“Mommy!” She said, running towards the door. 

“Don't open that until I see who it is!” Emma warned. Upon seeing that their guest was, in fact, their mother, Emma unlocked the door and opened it to reveal Snow standing on the front porch, cheeks rosy from the cold. 

“Mommy!” Ruth cried again, leaping into their mother's arms. 

“Ruthie! It's my two girls!” Snow said, before stepping inside and embracing Emma in a hug too. “How are you, honey?” Snow asked the toddler. 

“Emmy was asweep Mommy!” Ruthie said, telling on her older sister. 

“Asleep?” Snow said, giving Emma a questioning look. 

“I just dozed off on the couch for a few minutes while the kids were downstairs with Henry. Ruthie is convinced that I didn't go to bed when you told me to last night,” Emma said, smiling playfully at her younger sister. 

“Emma doesn't go to bed when I tell her, honey. She's a big girl. She goes to bed whenever she wants. Maybe she was too busy to go to bed early last night, Ruth,” Snow said, giving Emma a pointed look. 

“Mom!” Emma said, cheeks reddening at her mother's implications. 

“Why were you busy, Emmy?” her sister questioned innocently. 

“I wasn't!” Emma said sharply. Luckily, Henry called for Margaret Ruth to come back downstairs so they could practice the play one more time today. The little girl leaped out of their mother's arms before heading downstairs. Although her sister was gone, Snow's pointed eyebrow raise and smirk were another battle entirely. 

“What?” Emma asked her mother. 

“Why were you asleep?” Snow asked. 

“I told you. I was tired, so I dozed off for a few minutes while the kids were downstairs,” Emma said. 

“But that's not like you. Why were you so tired?” Snow pushed. 

“Mom, it's Christmas. I have a toddler. I guess I didn't sleep well last night. Why are you making a big deal about this?”

“I have a toddler too. Why don't you just drink some coffee to wake you up?” Snow said, watching Emma's facial expressions closely. 

“I don't drink a lot of coffee,” Emma said evenly, not falling that easily into her mother's trap. 

“Emma, dear, what's going on?” 

“Nothing. I'm tired. It's a normal feeling. I'll make sure I go to bed early tonight.” Emma replied. 

“Were you up too late making pancakes?” Snow asked bluntly. 

“Mom! No. Would you stop!” Emma said, cheeks heating up again. 

“Come on, Emma! We can talk about these things!” Snow pleaded. 

“No, we cannot! You are my mother. I am not talking to my mother about my intimate relationship with my husband! This has never been something I want to talk to you about!” Emma said, slightly annoyed that her mother still didn’t get the picture. 

“But we were friends first! We've talked about this stuff before!” 

“Yeah, before I knew you were my mother and David was my father! Now, I don't want to hear about your relationship, and I don't want to talk about mine!” Emma snapped quietly, knowing the kids were just down a flight of stairs from their PG-13 conversation in the kitchen. The front door opened abruptly, quieting the women as their husbands walked through the front door in an animated discussion. David and Killian were excitedly engaged in some conversation that sounded suspiciously like gingerbread making. 

“Dad! Great. Glad you're here. Please, please! Take your wife home. Oh, and your kids. But mostly your wife.” Emma said, giving her father a pointed look that meant Snow had gone too far with something. 

“Hey, Emma. Glad to see you too, sweetheart,” David replied, giving his daughter a quick hug before embracing his wife. Killian hung his coat up and slipped off his boots before he made his way towards Emma, enveloping her in a hug that warmed Emma's soul.

“Hi, love. It’s good to see you” Killian commented, running his hand absentmindedly up and down his wife’s back. Emma cuddled closer to Killian but kept a wary eye on her mother, afraid she would again bring up Emma’s tiredness or Emma’s relationship in the bedroom. The last thing she wanted was to talk to her Dad of all people about anything involving her intimate time with Killian besides surprising David with a third grandchild. 

Before Snow could bring up anything about Emma, Henry and the kids came up the stairs, with Henry telling the children he was proud of them for their hard work. Before she had rounded the top stair completely, Hope had seen Killian and bounded towards him, cuddling herself in his arms when he bent down to pick her up. Margaret Ruth and Neal headed for their parents, but Neal couldn't help from stealing a hug from Killian, and another from Emma. Roland and Robin headed out the door with goodbyes as they walked home. The Charmings were quickly out the door, and then it was just Emma, Killian, Henry, and Hope in the Swan-Jones household. Henry began animatedly telling his parents and sister how the play practice was going. He wouldn't give up the specific adventure that was being reenacted, but he did say it was going well and he was excited for them to see it all together at Regina's house on Christmas Eve. 

“That's a fortnight away, lad. Do you think all the children will be ready by then?” Killian asked as he prepared dinner for the family. 

“I think so. It will be better once Gideon can come back and play in his role” Henry said after pondering his stepfather's question. 

“Why wasn't Gideon over today?” Killian questioned. 

“Oh! Babe, the Santa library book reading thing!” Emma said, forgetting the name of Belle's event. 

“The library book reading thing?” Killian asked, confused by his wife's description. 

“The event Belle is hosting at the Storybrooke Library. Santa is going to read a story to the kids' book club then there will be pictures with Santa after. I was going to take Hope, but tomorrow I'm working all day. I told Belle you would take Hope, and that Dad would take Margaret Ruth.” Emma elaborated. 

“Ah, yes. Belle was telling me about this event just the other day. I had forgotten what day it was. Very well, the little pirate and I will venture over to the library as soon as school gets out tomorrow,” Killian replied. 

“Oh! That reminds me, I need to tell Dad the plan. Let me call him right quick!” Emma said. She walked out of the room to call her father, while Killian just shook his head and smiled good-naturedly. 

“Your mother's more scatterbrained than usual,” Killian mused aloud, making sure to be broad enough that his daughter wouldn't pick up on why her mother was scatterbrained. 

“Yeah, and not telling Grandma and Grandpa is slowly killing her. Margaret Ruth found her asleep on the couch earlier and told all the kids about how ‘Emmy’ was asleep and that she was too busy to go to sleep early last night,” Henry told Killian. 

“Gods, your grandparents could still figure it out yet. I think Emma would be crushed if they found out before we told them. She's been trying so hard to hide everything from them” Killian responded. Emma was back in the kitchen before long, and the family enjoyed their quiet evening together before Emma did, in fact, go to bed early. 

-------CS-------

“David! It's good to see you mate!” Killian said across the schoolyard. The men were waiting for their preschoolers to get out of school so they could go to Belle's event at the library. 

“Hey Killian! You too. How was this morning at the sheriff's station?” David responded. 

“Slow. Just a few citations for illegal parking, but nothing crazy. I am thankful for the slow days,” Killian replied just as the doors to the school opened and some preschoolers came running out. Hope and Margaret Ruth came towards the men, both excitedly greeting their fathers. 

“Hi Grandpa! I saw Grandma today in the lunchroom! She gave me a hug!” Hope excitedly explained. 

“That's awesome sweetheart. I'm so glad you got to see her today. Are you two ready to see Mrs. Belle at the library?” David greeted his granddaughter. 

“Yes!” Both girls squealed. The four headed towards the library, with the two girls hand-in-hand a few steps ahead of the men. 

“So, Killian, how's Emma been doing?”

“Emma is fine. You saw her last night, Dave,” Killian responded evenly. 

“Well, I know I saw her, but how is she actually?” David inquired. 

“She's actually fine,” Killian mimicked. 

“No, listen, Snow was telling me last night that she's concerned about Emma. Said she was really tired recently and even fell asleep yesterday afternoon and Margaret Ruth woke her up. It's just unusual behavior for our girl who seems to be constantly running and always on the go,” David elaborated. 

“Oh, you needn't worry, mate. Emma's just tired because we've been staying up later than usual wrapping presents and decorating the house for the holidays. Emma's just worried about making it a good Christmas for Hope since she will probably remember this Christmas. We've been putting Hope to bed and then wrapping presents together in the evenings. It's just a busy time.” 

“So, you're sure she's alright? I mean Snow brought up that her appetite has been weird and fluctuating and she's been irritable and short with people. We're just worried parents,” David replied.

“A few weeks back Emma had a sinus cold, which was affecting her eating patterns. She's been stressed about Christmas and holiday gatherings and such, so that's probably why she's appeared short-tempered. I assure you, mate, Emma is in perfect health. And if something was truly wrong, you know I would tell you and Snow.” Killian said, trying desperately to dodge the Prince’s questions and assure him that Emma was fine. That wasn't a lie. Emma truly was fine and healthy. They’d been to their OBGYN out of Storybrooke to check on the baby, and everything was progressing smoothly. Killian was honestly shocked they'd both been able to get away for an afternoon or morning under the radar with no further inquiries from Snow. 

“I guess you're right. I know you take care of her, more than I could have asked for. I believe if something wasn't right, you would have already told us. It's just - you know how Snow is. She's -” 

“A meddler?” 

“Well, yeah. She's-” 

“Overly concerned about things that are not her business?” Killian jested. 

“Hey! Well, she can sometimes be overly concerned about things. She just didn't get the chance to be Emma's mother for 28 years. She is trying to make up for lost time and can sometimes be a bit overbearing and dramatic.” 

“I know, mate. Now that I have a daughter of my own, I don't know what I'd do with myself if I lost the opportunity to watch her grow up and raise her for 28 years. I can't imagine how difficult it has been for you both. I know I speak for Emma too when I say that we are thankful to have you both in our lives, and I know she's glad her mother cares so much. It can sometimes be a bit much, that's all.” Killian said seriously, making sure to look his father-in-law in the eyes when telling him how both he and Emma felt. 

“Thank you, Killian. It means a lot. I'll try to calm Snow down and reassure her she doesn’t have to ask Emma about her tiredness. Heaven knows I'm exhausted just from having a toddler, let alone it also being almost Christmas!” David replied before the four of them were at the doors of the library and were welcomed inside by Belle dressed as a Christmas Elf. She excitedly greeted the girls inside, helped them find a seat up front, and managed the entire event with grace. Belle truly showed the town how important it is for Storybrooke to embrace the Christmas spirit by giving, being kind to each other, and spending quality time with loved ones.