#thanksgiving reruns 2022

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Thanksgiving Reruns--Day 1: The Thanksgiving Dinner

I would like to wish a very happy Thanksgiving to all my followers who celebrate it, and as a thank you, here are a few of my past Thanksgiving stories.  Enjoy!

Title: The Thanksgiving Dinner

Rating: G

Words: 1573

Summary: When Emma and Killian host Thanksgiving dinner at their home for the first time, they want everything to be perfect, but things don’t always go the way we want.

 Tagging a few people who may be interested (Let me know if you want to be added or taken off the list): @sailormew4​​​​​ @annaamell​​​​​ @flslp87​​​​​ @emmateo26​​​​​@bethacaciakay​​ @ultraluckycatnd​​​​​ @effulgent-mind​​​​​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​​​​​ @kat2609​​​​​ @brooke-to-broch​​​​​ @missgymgirl​​​​​ @galadriel26​​​​​ @the-lady-of-misthaven​​​​​ @charmingturkeysandwich​​​​​ @jennjenn615​​​​​ @laschatzi​​​​​ @kimmy46​​​​​ @snowbellewells​​​​​ @iamanneenigma​​​​​ @daxx04​​​​​ @nickillian​​​​​ @in-spirational​​​​​ @gillie​​​​​  @britishguyslover​​​​​ @ginnyjinxedandhanshotritafirst​​​​​ @kmomof4​​​​​  @linda8084​​​​​ @golfgirld​​​​​ @captain-swan-coffee​​​​​ @searchingwardrobes​​​​​ @hollyethecurious​​​​​ @laughswaytoomuch​​​​​  @allyourdarlingswans​  @winterbaby89​​​​​ @facesiousbutton82​​​​​ @therooksshiningknight​​​​​, @lfh1226-linda​​​​​ @tiganasummertree​​​​​​  @jrob64​

 Other Chapters: 2 3 4 5

 The Thanksgiving Dinner

Killian shivered as he walked along the sidewalk that led to the house he shared with his wife, Emma Swan-Jones.  A pleasant thrill shot through him at the thought.  Emma was his wife!  Against all odds, against death itself, they’d prevailed, and they’d finally been given the chance to embark on their future together.

The past few months had been difficult, to say the least, but the happiness he now enjoyed with his true love and her son in their house by the sea made every last moment of the agony worth it.

The cold, late autumn breeze picked up, scattering fallen leaves and chilling Killian to the bone.  He took the stairs to his home two at a time, wondering idly if they were in for a snowstorm.  He hoped so.  Perhaps he could engage in a snowball fight with the lad.  Perhaps he and Swan and Henry could build a snowman.  Killian let himself daydream about a day spent with his family in the snow—not to mention the ways he and Swan could find to warm each other up after the lad went off to bed.

In fact…speaking of more enjoyable activities…the lad was staying with his other mother tonight,  perhaps he and Swan should take advantage of the alone time.  Smile draping his lips, Killian opened the door, prepared to call out an enthusiastic “Hello, love!”

But the greeting died on his lips.

No sooner had he pulled the front door open than his ears were assaulted with a piercing, pulsating shriek, and thick, black smoke slapped him in the face.  Faintly, underneath the shrill noise, he detected the sound of crying.  Emma crying.

Sprinting forward, his heart in his throat, he made for the kitchen.  “Swan!” he shouted fearing the scene he might find.

He found her sitting at the kitchen table, her head in her hands, crying as though her heart were breaking.  A sauce pan sat on the stove, smoking merrily away, apparently causing the device Swan had called a “smoke detector” to protest vigorously.  As Swan didn’t appear to be in any immediate danger, Killian jogged to the stove, turned off the burner, and threw the offending pan into the sink, dousing it’s charred, lumpy contents with water.

Immediate crisis over (and alarm finally blessedly silent) Killian returned to his disconsolate wife.  Kneeling before her, he put a gentle hand on her shoulder.  “Emma, love, what’s the matter?”

She raised a red, tear-stained face toward him, and then fell into his arms, the tears continuing.  He held her for long moments, rubbing her back, whispering comforting nothings into her ear, brushing kisses against her hair, the top of her head.  Finally, the worst of her emotion seemed to pass, and she pulled back, scrubbed at her face and then resumed her seat.

“Killian, I can’t do this!  It’s an utter disaster!” she said, vaguely gesturing toward their kitchen.

“What is it you can’t do love,” he asked, taking a seat beside her and putting his arm around her shoulders.

Emma sighed deeply and then leaned her head against his shoulder.  “This.  Cook.”

Killian chuckled softly.  “Not to put too fine a point on it, love, but you never could cook.  Beyond the realm of breakfast provisions, you are hopeless, darling.  Your lad and I have taken to learning the culinary arts out of sheer self-preservation.”

Emma sat up and glared at him, crossing her arms with a huff.  After a moment, she wilted, dropping her eyes to the table before them.  “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

She looked so sad, so dejected that Killian leaned over and kissed her tenderly, slowly.  Her arms wound around him as she returned the embrace, seeming to take strength from their intimacy.

Finally, he pulled back, looking into her red-rimmed eyes.  “What is this truly about, my love?  Your proficiency in this particular domestic art has never before been an issue that affected your happiness.”

“It’s just…” she said, getting up to pace, “I invited everyone over for Thanksgiving tomorrow.  The whole crazy family.  I told them I would make the Turkey and stuffing, the whole nine yards.”

Killian vaguely recalled people throughout the town referring to an autumn holiday called Thanksgiving.  From what he’d gleaned from various conversations, the holiday consisted of eating gluttonous amounts of food and then viewing a sporting event called “football”.

Emma gestured toward the blackened pot in the sink.  “I have to make the whole dinner, and I can’t even figure out how to make mashed potatoes!”

“Potatoes?” Killian asked as he poked at the congealed mess with his hook.  “Is that what these once were?  It would seem you didn’t add enough water when you set about to boil them.”

“I needed to add water?”

Killian shot her an incredulous look.  “Aye…boiling requires liquid, love.”

The tears started flowing again.  “I don’t even know how to boil potatoes.  I’m so screwed.”

Killian took her into his arms once more, rocking her gently.  “Again, what is this really about, love?  If it were merely a matter of preparing a meal, I’ve no doubt your mother would be thrilled to assist you.”

Emma pulled back enough to look at him.  “It’s just…it’s Thanksgiving, you know?  I wanted to make this holiday perfect.  I wanted to…I don’t know…try to make it up to everyone for the damage I caused when I was the Dark One.  Say thank you for standing by me.  That kind of thing.”

Killian smiled tenderly and reached up to catch a tear with his thumb.  “None blame you, Emma.  None hold it against you.  I more than any know what you’re going through; the guilt and shame.  I did far worse than you under the curse.  But you’ve put all to rights; you’ve nothing left to atone for.”

She tossed him a watery smile.  “It’s been quite a year, hasn’t it?”

He barked out a laugh.  “Truer words were never spoken.”

Emma dropped back into her chair at the table and sighed again.  “Regardless, we still have a whole freaking Thanksgiving dinner to host.  What are we going to do?”

“We deal with it as we deal with everything, my love,” Killian said, sitting beside her, “together.  You’re no longer alone; you’ll never be alone again.  Henry and I would be honored to help you prepare this special repast.”

Emma leaned forward and kissed him slow and deep.  “Thank you.  What would I do without you?”

“Certainly not any edible cooking,” he said with a quirk of his brow.

Emma hit him playfully.  He captured her hand and brought it to his lips, pleased to see the smile blooming once again on her lovely face.

“Killian, there was one more reason I was hoping this holiday would be perfect,” she said, looking at him shyly from beneath her long lashes.

“Aye, love?  What’s that?”

“This is your first Thanksgiving, and I wanted to make it special because…”

“Because why?”

Emma abruptly got to her feet and darted toward the powder room off the kitchen.  A moment later she returned holding a small, white wand of sorts.  “Because, well, I have news, and I was planning to share it after everyone went home on Thanksgiving, but I guess now’s as good a time as any.”

Killian took the device she held out to him, peering in confusion at the tiny display showing two pink lines.  Was this supposed to be meaningful to him?  “My apologies love.  I’m afraid I don’t understand…”

Emma took his hand and looked into his eyes.  “This is a special test, Killian.  One that can tell me…what’s going on in my body.  Those two lines there?  They mean I’m pregnant.”

It took him a moment to catch up to what she’d said, but when he did his heart stuttered and then began racing.  “You’re with child?  I’m to be a father?”

She nodded, her lower lip between her teeth.  “Yeah.  I just found out today.  We’re going to have a baby!”

Killian whooped then took her into his arms, swinging her around as she laughed and the tears flowed once more.  Finally he put her down and kissed her as he felt the tears prick his own eyes.  A father!  He was going to be a father!  It was something for which he’d never allowed himself to hope.

“I hope this means you’re happy,” Emma said.

“Happy!  Emma, nothing on this earth could bring me more joy.”

She smiled beatifically.  “I hoped you’d react like that.  But, I mean, we hadn’t really talked about kids yet, and I didn’t know how you felt, and…I don’t know.”

He chuckled.  “Why do you think I selected such a large house, love?  Of course I want to have a family with you.  What better way to overcome our painful pasts than to share our love with a family of our own?”

As Killian and Emma celebrated their happy news and began planning for their upcoming Thanksgiving dinner, Killian couldn’t keep the smile off his lips.  Though he’d never before heard of the custom, he very much looked forward to this holiday called Thanksgiving.  With a wife he loved beyond all reason, a teenage son he adored, an entire family to care for and now a tiny son or daughter on the way, he had more blessings than he could count in three lifetimes.

There was much for which to be thankful.

[mylivejournalsucks]

all i want for christmas is a healthy shift in perspective, tbh.

For years, it felt like I was the saddest and drunkest person to ever exist during the holidays.  It would start with a flurry of activity in December—festive parties, candy canes and gingerbread desserts, blasting a charlie brown christmas while blissfuly soaking in the tub (always skipping the one song that’s sung by children who sound like they escaped from a mental institution)—and I would start to actually think/delude myself into being like, “Wait, I actually love the holidays?” But then, bloop, the activity would stop and all the fun distractions would evaporate and suddenly my bones would turn to crushed ice when I’d realize all that’s left was just me and my flop of a family.

I’m 96% kidding. I love my family. I do. But we’re not the closest bunch. Honestly, we’re just very different people and I knew from an early age that, in order to experience globs of closeness and intimacy, I would have to outsource and build a big life for myself. One that included a lot of strong friendships. It actually works until all those friends have to leave for a week and deal with the reason why they also had to go and build big lives for themselves.

So Jonathan would trot off to see his family in Berkeley (he actually likes them....disturbing)  and I would be left alone to turn my stomach into a wine cellar and have decadent marie antoinette dinners, basically giving myself gout for Christmas. Then, to assuage the guilt of my excessive drinking and eating, I would convince myself that all this peace and quiet was lending itself to a “creative surge of activity” and by that I mean I would drag my hungover ass to a computer and type nonsense for 75 minutes before laying down and watching reruns of Millionaire Matchmaker. (All I want for Christmas is for Patti Stanger and her industrial strength bangs to tower above me and go on a tirade about redheads. My problematic Marina-Del-Rey-living queen...)

The hangovers were particularly brutal this time of the year. I don’t know if it’s because LA was dead and there was nothing really to hide behind or power through for. My skin would break out, my stomach would feel like it was put through a cheese grater (probs because I was eating so much cheese.) And I had no choice but to be an absolute sub to my misery. It felt like my problems were there under the Christmas tree, waiting for me to unwrap them, and I would just stare at them and think, “If unwrapping wasn’t so ableist, maybe I would but JK, not now.”

Then, miracle of miracles, I got sober during the early days of the pandemic. i was excited to see if not drinking and the holidays would make for a quietly iconic duo but then an exposure to omicron cancelled all my holiday plans last year. 2022 would be the first time in three years I would get to experience Christmas the way it used to be: absolutely terrible! 

But I had a hunch that raw-dogging Christmas was going to be actually okay. For Thanksgiving, Jonathan and I hosted fifteen people at our house. It was a merging of our two families and it felt very “Circle Of Life” being able to give our parents an experience where they just eat and chill while we took care of everything. And by “we” I mean Jonathan. I still have the life skills of someone raised in a bunker. But the day was very special and honestly took the pressure off of Christmas having to be a slay. Jonathan is always trying to get me to go to Berkeley with his family for Christmas but I always resisted because I felt guilty leaving my tiny family behind and also, the drunk part of me liked getting to isolate and have “glamorous” nights where I sit in bed alone, drink goblets of wine, and Google “Jon Hamm bulge sweatpants.”

But now I’m that no longer sucking alcohol’s dick and because we had already such a fantastic Thanksgiving with my family, I decided to finally live my Norcal truth. And I’m so glad I did because hon? It was heav. Jonathan’s sister and mom are delightful. They’re all beautiful reflections of each other and being around them for concentrated periods of time allows me to fill Jonathan in even more as a person. We ate delicious food, were confused by Berkeley fashion (you’re millionaires, please put down the performance fleece vest.....) and we stayed at a hotel that kind of felt like The Shining but in a consensual way.

For the first time since I was a kid, I had a lovely Christmas. One that didn’t feel lonely or hungover or cause me to fixate on what I didn’t have. It sounds traj to write but I didn’t know that was possible. I had resigned myself to the holidays forever acting as an X-ray to all of the poisonous thoughts and feelings I have living inside of me.  But now I’ve made new traditions. Healthier ones. And I feel silly for letting myself live in a story I didn’t like for so long but, of course, it’s hard to regret anything when you like where you’ve ultimately landed. 

It’s nice to see yourself get better at living.

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Thanksgiving Reruns--Day 3: Black Friday Chapter 1 of 3

I would like to wish a very happy Thanksgiving to all my followers who celebrate it, and as a thank you, here are a few of my past Thanksgiving stories.  Enjoy!

Title: Black Friday—Chapter 1 of 3

Rating: G

Words: 1442

Summary: CS as single parents AU. As the holidays approach, Emma’s son Henry and Killian’s daughter Alice ask for a specific storybook which will ONLY be available for purchase on Black Friday.

 Tagging a few people who may be interested (Let me know if you want to be added or taken off the list): @sailormew4 @annaamell @flslp87 @emmateo26@bethacaciakay @ultraluckycatnd @ineffablecolors, @ilovemesomekillianjones @kat2609 @brooke-to-broch​ @missgymgirl​ @galadriel26​ @the-lady-of-misthaven​ @charmingturkeysandwich​ @jennjenn615​ @laschatzi​ @kimmy46​ @snowbellewells​ @iamanneenigma​ @daxx04​ @nickillian​ @a-rose-for-a-savior @in-spirational​ @gillie​  @britishguyslover​ @ginnyjinxedandhanshotritafirst​ @kmomof4​  @linda8084​ @golfgirld​ @captain-swan-coffee​ @searchingwardrobes​ @hollyethecurious​ @laughswaytoomuch​  @allyourdarlingswans​  @winterbaby89​ @facesiousbutton82​ @therooksshiningknight​, @lfh1226-linda​ @tiganasummertree​

 Other Chapters: 1 2 4 5

 Black Friday—Chapter 1

One week before Thanksgiving

“Do you really think it’ll work?” she asked, leaning forward, eyes bright and delighted.

“It’s perfect!” he answered. “Trust me!  Our plan will work like a charm.  Just make sure you give him Miss French’s flier and make him see how much you want it.  I’ll do the same with her.  By Christmas, we’ll be celebrating our success.”

She grinned.  “Oh, I hope you’re right!  Can you imagine?  If we pull this off, everything will change forever!”

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

The morning after Thanksgiving

The alarm clock roared to life as a way, way too enthusiastic version of Jingle Bell Rock blared from the speakers of her clock radio. Emma groaned, reaching blindly over to slam the button on the top of the alarm and make the noise stop.

3 am.  It was entirely too early for any sane person to be awake.  Even the early birds were still peacefully snoozing in their nests.  It was only the crazy humans, intent on getting the best deals on the best Christmas gifts who would submit themselves to this kind of torture.

She hoped the payout was worth it.

Her bed was so warm, so comfortable, that for a split second, Emma considered just forgetting about the whole thing and going back to sleep, but then she thought about Henry.

It had been a difficult year for him, for both of them really.  They’d had a great life in New York.  Her bail bonds gig had paid well enough that they could afford a wonderful apartment. Henry had lots of friends at school.  She’d had a guy she loved, a guy she really thought was the one.  He’d seemed great with Henry, and Henry had really liked him.  

Walsh had proposed a week before Halloween, and Emma had really considered saying yes.  Granted, she didn’t feel the epic, sweeping, melt-into-a-pile-of-goo passion you see in movies, but she did love Walsh, and he could be a wonderful addition to the little family circle she and Henry had put together.

At least that’s what she thought.

Emma had made up her mind to accept the proposal when it all went south.  Turns out Walsh wasn’t at all who he said he was.  He’d been playing a long con on her, doing his level best to steal her money and assets right from under her nose, and she felt like a fool for buying into it his b.s.  She was smarter than this!  She ran the honey trap on bail jumpers; she knew the playbook.  How did she fall for it?

She’d just so badly wanted that perfect, white-picket-fence life for herself, and especially for her ten-year-old son, that’s how.

After everything had so epically crashed and burned with Walsh, Emma had just wanted to get away.  She’d wanted--needed--a new start, and so when her brother David had mentioned the opening for a deputy in the tiny town of Storybrooke, Maine, where he lived with his wife Mary Margaret, Emma had jumped at the opportunity.

Within a week, she’d uprooted her whole life--and her son’s whole life--and moved to Storybrooke.  For the moment, she and Henry were crashing with David and Mary Margaret in their tiny loft apartment until Emma could find them their own place.

The move had been the most difficult on Henry.  All he’d ever known was back in New York--friends, school, entire lifestyle.  Small town Storybrooke was like a totally different world than the booming metropolis he was used to.  Her normally happy, vivacious kid had been quiet, almost withdrawn since they’d arrived in Storybrooke.

Emma knew kids were resilient, that Henry would bounce back, but she felt so damn guilty for causing him stress.

And so, naturally when Henry had come home a week ago, excitement bumped up to a level ten, talking a mile a minute and waving a flier in her face, Emma had taken notice.  Turns out the school librarian Belle French--who was also the owner and proprietor of “A Tale as Old as Time”, Storybrooke’s best (and only) bookstore--was holding a special Black Friday sale on a very special storybook, entitled Once Upon a Time.  She had one copy, and one copy only, and the rare book would normally sell for an exorbitant price--somewhere between an arm and a leg.  On Black Friday, however, she was offering the book for dirt cheap, but there was a catch.  The price was only good during the special, Black Friday early bird sale.  Doors opened at 4 am.   First person to touch the book had the opportunity to purchase it.

Henry had always loved stories, and he’d been particularly fascinated with fairy tales.  Naturally, a book chalk full of them would be right up Henry’s alley.  Faced with the prospect of getting Henry the perfect gift, the gift that would finally bring him some joy after the difficult last few weeks, it was a no brainer.

Waking up a few hours before the crack of dawn was a small price to pay for her kid’s happiness.

Emma pushed aside the covers and got up, throwing on the first pair of clean clothes she could find, twisting her hair into a messy bun, and then downing the strong coffee her sister-in-law had set to brew for her.  By the end of her second cup, she was feeling almost human, and she was ready to brave the hordes of Black Friday shoppers to attain her prize.

It was a quick, five minute walk to the center of town where “A Tale as Old as Time” was located, and Emma made it just as the cheerful brunette proprietor was unlocking the doors and letting her first customers in.  Emma knew just where her target was.  She’d scoped out the bookstore over the weekend, getting the lay of the land and mapping out her plan of attack.  She knew just where to go, and within sixty seconds of the store opening, she’d reached her target.  It was right there, in sight.

Emma reached for the book, her hand made contact--just as another hand did as well.

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

Killian Jones had lived a difficult life.  He’d seen more heartache and tragedy in his thirty-five years of existence than most people did in a lifetime.  Aye, it had been an incredibly difficult life, but it did have one bright, shining spot.

His daughter Alice.

His one-night-stand with Alice’s mom, Eloise, had been a mistake of epic proportions, but Killian would never regret it, because it gave him the greatest blessing of his life, his precious little starfish.

Nine months after their dalliance, Eloise had suddenly showed up on his doorstep, placed their newborn daughter in his arms, and then walked out of their lives forever.  For himself, Killian couldn’t have cared less.  He felt nothing but revulsion for the woman who’d gotten him blind drunk and then taken advantage of him that night nine months ago.  In the bright morning light, he’d been disgusted with her, with himself, and with the entire sordid affair.  He’d have been more than happy if he never saw her noisome face again.

No, he didn’t care if she walked away from him, but his heart had broken at the fact that his tiny, perfect daughter had been abandoned by her mother.  Killian knew from first hand the agony of being abandoned by a parent, and it tore him up inside that his beloved daughter had to deal with it as well.

Though having a child was the farthest thing from his mind at the time, there’d never been any doubt what he would do.  Alice was his daughter, his precious child, and he would do right by her no matter what.

Ten years later, he thanked his lucky stars every single day that he’d made the choice to raise her.  Alice was the most important person in the world to him, and there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her.

So naturally, when she came home from school all excited about the book Miss French was selling, Killian knew exactly how he would be spending his very early Black Friday morning.

He’d arrived at “Tale as Old as Time” just as Miss French opened the doors.  He rushed to the back of the store, his prize in sight.

He grabbed the book just as a gorgeous blonde made contact.  

“Um excuse me,” she said with a frown.  “This book is mine.”

It appeared this shopping expedition was going to be more difficult--although possibly more intriguing--the blonde truly was breathtaking--than he’d expected.

Killian grinned.  He’d never backed down from a challenge, and he didn’t intend to begin now.

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Thanksgiving Reruns--Day 5: Black Friday--Chapter 3 of 3

I would like to wish a very happy Thanksgiving to all my followers who celebrate it, and as a thank you, here are a few of my past Thanksgiving stories.  Enjoy!

Title: Black Friday—Chapter 3 of 3

Rating: G

Words: 4002

Summary: CS as single parents AU. As the holidays approach, Emma’s son Henry and Killian’s daughter Alice ask for a specific storybook which will ONLY be available for purchase on Black Friday.

 Tagging a few people who may be interested (Let me know if you want to be added or taken off the list): @sailormew4​ @annaamell​ @flslp87​ @emmateo26​@bethacaciakay​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @ineffablecolors​, @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @kat2609​ @brooke-to-broch​ @missgymgirl​ @galadriel26​ @the-lady-of-misthaven​ @charmingturkeysandwich​ @jennjenn615​ @laschatzi​ @kimmy46​ @snowbellewells​ @iamanneenigma​ @daxx04​ @nickillian​ @a-rose-for-a-savior @in-spirational​ @gillie​  @britishguyslover​ @ginnyjinxedandhanshotritafirst​ @kmomof4​  @linda8084​ @golfgirld​ @captain-swan-coffee​ @searchingwardrobes​ @hollyethecurious​ @laughswaytoomuch​  @allyourdarlingswans​  @winterbaby89​ @facesiousbutton82​ @therooksshiningknight​, @lfh1226-linda​ @tiganasummertree​

 Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4

Black Friday—Chapter 3

Emma got the book for the first week, and it warmed her heart to see how unbelievably happy it made Henry.

She'd been afraid he'd be disappointed about the arrangement she made with Killian, disappointed that he'd have to share the storybook that he'd wanted so desperately, but she needn't have worried.  Far from being upset at the arrangement, he'd been delighted, assuring her that he liked Alice Jones and her dad and he was glad if he had to share the book that it was with them.

If she hadn't known better, she'd think he was happier things had worked out this way than he'd have been if she'd gotten the book outright.

In fact, he was so alright with the arrangement that he badgered her about setting a date for the exchange...and he insisted they have the Joneses over for dinner.

Emma stirred the pasta sauce, feeling like she needed to do something with her hands.  Killian and Alice would be here any minute, and Emma felt the nerves bubbling up as strong as the water she was boiling for spaghetti.

She hated herself for her reaction--for the fact that she was so nervous about something as simple as having a couple of people over for dinner.

Not to mention the fact she'd taken special care with her hair and make up, and she'd spent far longer than she'd like to admit selecting a sweater and a pair of jeans for the evening.  If anyone asked, she'd gone to the extra effort simply because she was feeling festive.  It had nothing to do with the fact that she was having a handsome single dad over.

But if Emma was being honest with herself she knew the truth.  Killian Jones had invaded her thoughts more, much more than she would have liked, and every time he did, her heart skipped a beat, her breath caught, her stomach swooped. 

 It was all so cliche that it made her want to groan.  She was not cliche.  She was not a love-struck teenager.  She'd done the whole falling in love thing, and it had bitten her in the ass in a major way.  She knew how this went.  She'd have a few months of breathless excitement with her new infatuation, and then it would all hit the fan, and before she knew it the pain would be nearly unbearable.  No thanks.  The highs were not worth the lows that would follow.

Nope.  It didn't matter how hot Killian Jones was.  Didn't matter how charming.  Didn't matter how much his love for his daughter warmed her heart.  She would keep her wits about her and fortify the walls around her heart that had kept her safe all these years since Neal.

But when her door buzzed ten minutes later and she opened it to see a rakishly handsome Killian in a deep blue button up, short leather jacket and tight black jeans--smiling knowingly as he held out a bottle of wine to her–her heart lurched, and Emma acknowledged to herself the fact that she might be in real, serious trouble.

*****

Two hours later Emma was beginning to wonder if it was already too late for her.  Dinner had been surprisingly enjoyable.  The Swans and the Joneses alike had talked and laughed and generally enjoyed each other’s company.

After dinner, Henry had pulled Alice toward the living room to try out a new video game he was rather obsessed with. 

"Let me help with the dishes, Love" Killian offered, gathering up plates from the table and heading toward the sink.  "Least I can do after such an extraordinary meal."

Emma felt her cheeks warm at the compliment.  Generally speaking, whatever talents she had did not extend to the kitchen, but pasta was one thing she could make and make well.  In the secret recesses of her heart--in the place she barely even acknowledged to herself--she'd wanted to impress him, and his praise warmed her like a blazing fire on a cold winter's night.

Together they cleared the table and set to work washing and drying the dishes.  Working together like this, he was so close she could feel the heat radiating from his body.  His scent of leather and a hint of rum invaded her senses and it made her want.

Not just on a carnal level.  That she could handle.  That was something she could take care of.  A quick scratch of an itch and he'd be out of her system, but no it wasn't just the physical want.

She wanted all of it--the conversation, the companionship, the family.  She wanted this little domestic situation to be real, to be permanent.

As Emma closed the door behind the Joneses--after making arrangements for the next book exchange--and as Henry wandered off to bed  Emma felt the tears at the back of her eyes.

She didn't want to want this.  Didn't want to want him.  The pain when this inevitably went south was going to be terrible.

She had a week until the next book exchange.  She needed to use that time fortifying her defenses against Killian Jones before she reached the point of no return.

*******

"Just a little more to the left," Alice said, taking a step back to look at the giant fir tree in their living room the following week.

Killian made the requested adjustment, and then got an enthusiastic "It's perfect" from his enraptured little starfish.

Seeing the holidays through the eyes of his daughter was magical.  She was such a sensitive soul.  She found delight in the beauty around her--and she had the unique ability to see beauty everywhere she looked.

Every holiday was a time of exceeding joy for Alice, but this particular Christmas season seemed to hold a special place in her heart, and Killian suspected he had Emma and Henry Swan to thank for that.

They'd only had the one meeting for dinner a week ago, but just the memory of it warmed Killian and made him smile.  Emma Swan was such a contradiction.  She'd been so prickly, so standoffish at their first meeting at the bookstore, but he'd seen a different side of her at home with her son.  She'd been relaxed, happy, smiling and laughing and delighting him with her witty banter.

She intrigued him more than any woman had since Milah.  She'd been beautiful at their first meeting, but at dinner--dressed in a red v-necked sweater that hugged her curves in all the right places--she'd nearly taken his breath away.

He sensed it would be quite a challenge to win her heart--should he choose to pursue it--but he rather liked a challenge.

At the end of dinner last week they'd decided to meet today for the next exchange, and Alice had started in right away to plan the next Swan-Jones get together.

"We need to decorate the tree together," She'd insisted on the way home from the Swans' abode.  "Maybe even get a start on some Christmas cookies."

Never one to deny his daughter anything if he could help it, he'd agreed to her plan.  Accordingly, they'd spent the ensuing week digging Christmas decorations from the attic, testing twinkle lights, and making multiple trips to the store for tree-trimming essentials.  

This morning was the last piece of the puzzle--the tree itself.  They'd made their way to Tiny's Christmas Tree Lot and been fortunate to find and cut down one of the handsomest trees Killian had ever seen.

Now all that remained was to wait until Emma and Henry arrived.

*****

Reaching up on her tiptoes, Emma placed the final ornament--a ceramic candy cane--on what was surely the only bare branch of the entire Christmas tree, and then she stepped back to survey her work.

"Pretty, isn't it?" She asked.

Killian looked over at her, taking in her cheeks flushed with exertion, her glossy blonde curls falling gently over her shoulders, her green eyes sparkling with happiness and felt his heart turn over.

"Beautiful," he breathed, never taking his eyes from her. "Absolutely stunning."

She looked over at him, hearing the adoration in his voice, and her breath caught as she noted the intensity in his eyes as he looked down at her.  Their eyes locked, and the color on her cheeks deepened.

He couldn't look away.  Wouldn't want to if he could.  She was so bloody gorgeous it almost hurt to look at her.  Slowly, inexorably he began to lean down, his eyes focusing on her lips.

For a split second she leaned toward him, and briefly, oh so briefly, he thought she'd allow him to sample those ruby-red lips, lips that he was sure would be far sweeter than the mulled cider he had waiting for them on the stove.

But then she seemed to come to her senses, shaking her head slightly and taking a step back.  She chuckled a bit nervously. "We did a good job on the tree, if I do say so myself."

For a moment the disappointment flooded him, but ever the gentleman, Killian took his own step back, muttering an agreement with her statement.  He knew enough about her history with Neal Cassidy to understand her fear, her hesitancy, but he was a patient man.  He could take all the time she needed to convince her that he was in this for the long haul and that she could trust him to cherish her heart should she one day give it to him.

"Aye, that we did," he replied genially.  "What say we adjourn to the kitchen to see what those two young scamps are up to?"

*********

Emma scooped up a fist-ful of snow as she hid behind a large oak tree.  Forming it into a ball, she stepped out and took aim.  

Bull's eye!  Her projectile made contact right between Killian's shoulder blades.  The man himself turned on her with a delighted grin that belied his growl of outrage.

"You'll pay dearly for that Swan!" He promised in a low, menacing voice that made her shiver in anticipation.  

She imagined him using that tone of voice under different circumstances.  What would it be like to hear him growl at her like that without their children present?  In a far more private setting?  With a lot few clothes between them?

She blinked and shook her head.  What was she doing fantasizing about Killian Jones?  Bad enough they had to see each other every week without her way-too-fertile imagination helpfully supplying images that made her want to fan herself, even in the midst of a polar vortex.

The next snowball hit her directly in the forehead, and Henry bent over amidst gales of laughter, pleased with the hit he'd scored for the boys' team.

Emma smiled at her son's antics as Alice pulled her back behind their oak tree home base.

"Don't worry," she said. "I'll take care of Henry.  You go get my Papa again."

Get him, drag him someplace private, kiss the daylights out of him…

Her inner voice really wouldn’t shut up today!

"Sounds good, kid," Emma said.  "Let's go show them what Team Girl is made of!"

Three weeks after Thanksgiving, with Christmas fast approaching, and with six inches of new snow falling overnight, the Swans and Jones had decided to take their book exchange outdoors.  Together they'd made a little snow family and then decided to commence a snowball battle for the ages--Killian and Henry versus Emma and Alice.

Emma had no idea who was getting the best of the battle--each side had managed to log several good hits, but what she did know was that she had no idea when she'd had nearly this much fun.

Gathering up another huge handful of snow, Emma stepped from behind the tree...and right into the path of a snowball, lobbed with unerring accuracy, by a man who was grinning ear to ear, clearly quite pleased with both his stealth and his prowess on the frozen field of battle.

Gods, that grin did things to her.  Terrible, terrible, delicious things.

"Oh you did not just ambush me!" She said, gripping her snowball more tightly.

"Aye, that I did," his grin impossibly widened, "What are you going to do about it?"

The way he popped that final "t" made her stomach swoop.  Emma's breathing quickened. "You're about to find out!" Emma said, beginning to advance on him.

The force of Emma's next snowball knocked Killian to the ground, and the momentum carried Emma forward as well--until she landed directly on top of him.

His breath left him in a whoosh at the contact, and Emma meant to roll off of him, she really did…

But then her eyes met his.  Green eyes connecting with a sea of blue.  It was as though she was frozen in place, drawn inexorably to him like a moth to a flame (gods, another cliche!).  He didn't move, merely looked up at her with eyes filled with surprise and desire.

Almost against her own will, her gaze drifted down to settle on his lips.  It was too strong, too much.  She could no more stop what was about to happen than she could have stopped the snow from falling last night.

Lowering her head, she took his lips with a hunger she hadn't felt in years...maybe ever. He groaned and then surged up to meet her, lips parting, hand tangling in her hair.  It was too much, and not enough.  Far from quenching the fire, this kiss seemed to only be fanning the need into flame.  Her hands gripped his collar pulling him even nearer.

"Did you get her, Killian?"

The sound of Henry's voice was as effective as a bucket of ice water poured over her head, and Emma got to her feet so quickly her head swam (or was that from the mind-numbing, toe-curling kiss she'd just shared with Killian?).  Behind her, she heard the rustling sounds that told her Killian had done the same.

The children came into view just as their parents got to their feet.  Oh gods, how much of that did they see? Emma wondered as embarrassment covered her like a cloak.

"Aye, that I did," Killian said in a voice that was far from steady, "but then she returned the favor with interest.  I suspect we'll have to call this particular battle a draw."

"That's okay!" Alice said, bouncing on the soles of her feet in her excitement.  "It's getting cold anyway.  How 'bout we all go to Granny's for some hot cocoa?"

She'd kissed him.  Oh gods she'd more than kissed him.  She'd full on made out with him right there in the snow with such wild abandon she'd lost all sense, all awareness of where they were and with whom.  If Henry hadn't interrupted she legitimately had no idea what might have happened next.

Her embarrassment morphed into shame and disgust with herself.

And fear.  So much fear.  

Killian and Alice both were becoming so very important to her, she knew it would hurt like hell when they left her.

No, far better to nip this in the bud before she got in any deeper.

Emma took a step back.  "Sorry, kid," she said Taking in both Alice and her father as she continued backing away.  "We've got to get going."

"But mom!" Henry protested.

"Give Alice the book and let's go!" Emma answered in a tone that brooked no argument.

Turning, she nearly sprinted back to her bug, hoping Henry would follow quickly behind.

What had she done?

She'd ruined everything, and now all she could hope was that she'd make it to the privacy of her own room before she broke down.

********

"What happened?" Alice asked on the other end of the phone later that night.

"Don't know," Henry answered miserably. "Everything was going so good, and then…I just don't know!"

"Didn't you say they were kissing when you found them?" Alice asked. "Why would your mom get so upset?"

Henry shrugged before remembering she couldn’t see him over the phone. "I don't know.  Sometimes I don't understand adults at all."

"All I know is my dad has been sad ever since," Alice said. "Somehow, you've got to make sure your mom comes over on Christmas Eve like we planned!"

******

"Mom, come on! We've got to go take the book to Alice!" Henry said.  "If we don't hurry we'll be late for Christmas Eve dinner with them!"

Emma groaned.  She forgot she'd agreed when Killian asked them over for tonight.  But that was before. Before a certain kiss for the ages, one she simply couldn't stop thinking about while she was awake or dreaming about when she slept.

His lips were so warm, firm yet gentle. The wet smacking sounds their mouths made as they turned one way then the next trying to go deeper, get closer, meld into each other. The taste of coffee and mint on his tongue. The way her body burned at every point of contact.  The way she wanted more, so much more.  The way she wanted EVERYTHING.

And that right there was the crux of the problem.  She didn't just want his body.  She didn't just want a quick roll in the sheets.  She wanted a white picket fence life. She wanted their kids growing up together. She wanted him, and it hurt so much she didn't know how she would deal with it.

"I'll drop you off there, kid," Emma said, "but I think I'm gonna have to pass.  I'm just...I'm just not up to it, okay?"

"Is it 'cause I saw you kiss Mr. Jones?" Henry asked with a frown, "'cause you're afraid I'd be upset?  I'm not upset!  I promise!  I like Mr. Jones and Alice.  I'd be happy if you went on dates with him and stuff."

Emma closed her eyes, feeling the pain well up again, and then she sat on the couch patting the seat next to her, waiting until Henry sat.  "It's not because of you," she assured. "It just….wouldn't be a good idea.  These things just don't seem to work out for me."

He was silent for a minute and then he took her hand. "Mom, not every guy's gonna be like my dad.  Not every guy's gonna leave us.  I know Killian really likes you, and I know you can trust him."

Emma wanted to believe that, wanted it more than any Christmas gift she'd ever gotten, but the fear was so strong, like a living clawing at her. "I don't know if I can take that chance."

"Please, Mom?" Henry pleaded.  "It's Christmas!  You can't just drop me off! We need to spend Christmas together!  It's what families do!"

And really what could she say to that?  How could she deny her kid his family at Christmas?

"Fine," she said on a sigh. "We'll go to the Jones's, but I don't want you to get your hopes up about anything happening between me and Killian."

****

Killian more than half expected Emma to cancel their Christmas Eve plans.  He felt as disoriented after that kiss as he would if he'd gotten whiplash.

They'd been having such a nice day--talking, laughing, flirting, playing.  And then she'd kissed the life out of him, leaving him feeling somehow both weak and boneless...and on fire with need for more.

And then the kiss was over and she was running away from him as quickly as she could manage.  He wasn't stupid; he understood her like the open book she was to him.  She was afraid. Her past had scarred her so badly he didn't know what it would take to heal her again.

Not for the first time, Killian wanted to hunt down Neal Cassidy and pummel him within an inch of his life.

Of course he was frustrated on his own account--his and Alice's, but even more so he ached at Emma's wounds, the ones that had yet to heal, the ones that were holding her back from happiness and love in her life.

She deserved better, she deserved so much better, but Killian knew she was afraid to reach for it.

He'd wanted to call her so many times over the past week, but he was afraid she wasn't yet ready to speak to him.

No, Killian certainly didn't expect her to keep their Christmas Eve date.

And so when he opened his door later that night to reveal not just Henry but Emma as well, his heart lurched in the pleasantest possible manner.

"Swan! Welcome!" He stammered as Henry pushed past them and the two children went off to amuse themselves elsewhere. "I was a bit afraid you wouldn't show up."

She glanced aside, everything about her looking uncomfortable. "I almost didn't.  Henry can be very persuasive, though."

"Swan, can we talk about the elephant in the room?" He asked after a moment.  Was it better to dance around the subject or attack it directly? He didn't know, but what he did know was that their kiss had sealed it in his mind.

He'd fallen deeply, passionately and irrevocably in love with Emma Swan.  What manner of man would he be if he let the love of his life out of his life without even a fight?

"Killian, it was only a kiss," she said, crossing her arms protectively over her chest. "How is that an elephant in the room?"

"It's what the kiss exposed," he answered, looking at her earnestly, willing her to see his sincerity. "I never thought I'd be capable of letting go of my first love, my Milah, to believe I could find someone else. That is until I met you."

Her eyes widened and she sucked in a deep breath as the impact of what he'd just said hit her.

"Killian…" she said warily.  She wanted to run; he could see it in her eyes.  He stopped her with a gentle hand to her arm.

"Emma, I don't say this to make you uncomfortable or to trap you into something you're uncomfortable with."

"Then why do you say it?" She asked, the anger heavy in her voice.  He knew her well enough to see the fear and pain beneath the anger.

"Because you deserve to be loved," he said simply. "You deserve a man who will cherish you with every beat of his heart.  If you don't wish that man to be me, I'll of course honor your wishes, but don't close yourself off from love, Swan.  It's worth it."

"Is it, though?" She asked in a voice that ached. "I can't fall for you and then lose you.  I can't.  I can't lose you too."

His heart hurt at the pain in her voice, and almost unconsciously he rubbed at her shoulders. "I don't know what the future will bring," he said "no one does.  What I do know is that I'd never leave you.  I'd never willingly hurt you.  Search me out.  See if I'm lying to you."

He forced himself to stay still, open and honest while she stared into his eyes.  After a moment she shook her head, something suspiciously like hope coming into her eyes for the first time all night. "No, I don't think you are."

"I'm not," he said firmly.  "So what do you say, Emma?  Will you take a chance on me? Take a chance on us?"

For a moment more she merely stood there, looking at him, and then she stepped forward kissing him slowly, gently.

From behind them came the sound of cheering.  They broke apart, laughing at the sight of their two kids standing behind them jumping up and down and high-fiving each other.

"I told you it would work!" Alice said.

"You aren't mad at us for being sneaky, are you?" Henry asked.

Emma laughed before reaching down and threading her fingers with Killian's. "Nope.  I think we are all gonna be so happy together there won't be any room left for anger, kid."

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Thanksgiving Reruns--Day 4: Black Friday--Chapter 2 of 3

I would like to wish a very happy Thanksgiving to all my followers who celebrate it, and as a thank you, here are a few of my past Thanksgiving stories.  Enjoy!

Title: Black Friday—Chapter 2 of 3

Rating: G

Words: 1713

Summary: CS as single parents AU. As the holidays approach, Emma’s son Henry and Killian’s daughter Alice ask for a specific storybook which will ONLY be available for purchase on Black Friday.

 Tagging a few people who may be interested (Let me know if you want to be added or taken off the list): @sailormew4 @annaamell @flslp87 @emmateo26@bethacaciakay @ultraluckycatnd @ineffablecolors, @ilovemesomekillianjones @kat2609 @brooke-to-broch @missgymgirl @galadriel26 @the-lady-of-misthaven @charmingturkeysandwich @jennjenn615 @laschatzi @kimmy46 @snowbellewells @iamanneenigma @daxx04 @nickillian @a-rose-for-a-savior @in-spirational @gillie  @britishguyslover @ginnyjinxedandhanshotritafirst @kmomof4  @linda8084 @golfgirld @captain-swan-coffee @searchingwardrobes @hollyethecurious @laughswaytoomuch  @allyourdarlingswans  @winterbaby89 @facesiousbutton82 @therooksshiningknight, @lfh1226-linda @tiganasummertree​

 Other chapters: 1 2 3 5

 Black Friday—Chapter 2

“Um excuse me,” Emma said with a frown, “this book is mine.”

The person standing before her didn’t relinquish the book in question, and Emma glanced up at him…and then promptly wished she hadn’t.  This guy was hot.  Like middle-of-summer in Phoenix hot.  Like compared-to-him-the-sun-was-kind-of-warm hot.  No one had a right to look that damn good this early in the morning.  She should just arrest him and haul him off to jail for that alone.

Very much against her will, her heart swooped and her breath caught at his very proximity.  She saw the exact moment he noticed her reaction.  A sly, maddening, delighted (sexy) grin came over his face.  Emma frowned thunderously up at him, as angry with herself at her reaction as she was at him for his…well, his very existence.

“Much as I hate to contradict a lady,” he drawled (Oh gods, even his voice and accent were hot.  She was in serious, serious trouble), “I believe this book, in fact belongs to me.  I was here first.”

Her frown deepened.  “I don’t think so.  Give me my item before I punch you in the face.”

He chuckled, leaning forward and crowding her space. (Her stupid, traiterous heart picked up yet again.)  “Oh Darling, I can think of some far, far more pleasant ways we can spar than a bout of fisticuffs.”

Was it suddenly hot in here?  

“Look, I don’t have time for this,” she said with a sigh, her voice beginning to raise.  “Just stop being a jackass and give me the book.”

Suddenly a small man with a brown beard, a grumpy look on his face, and a hat that read “security” stepped forward.  “There a problem here folks?”

“None I can’t handle,” Emma gritted out.  “Soon as this guy admits I got here first and gives me my merchandise I’ll get out of your hair.”

“On the contrary,” the man said.  “I was the first one to claim this particular prize.”

The security guard, who wore the name tag “Leroy”, glanced back and forth between the two of them for a moment, and then shrugged.  “Look, I won’t have any fighting in this store.  Work it out among yourselves, or I’m kicking you both out.  Then neither one of you gets the stupid book.”

For a moment Emma merely glared at the man, and he looked back at her, a look of steely determination on his face.  Finally he sighed.

“Look, love, the security guard’s right,” he said. “While quite enjoyable, our standoff will get us nowhere.”

Was the (hot as hell) guy going to actually be reasonable and give in?

“So here’s what I propose,” he said.  “We purchase the book and then adjourn elsewhere to discuss the particulars of whose prize it will be.  Perhaps you’ll allow me to buy you a cup of coffee at Granny’s?”

She crossed her arms across her chest.  “Are you seriously asking me out right now?”

He chuckled, and the sound did things to her, things that brought the color to her cheeks and stole her breath clean from her lungs.  He leaned even closer, so close she could feel his minty-fresh breath against her cheek.  “Sadly no.  I was merely proposing a parlay of sorts, a chance for us to settle our differences like adults.  However, if you’re hoping for a romantic evening out on another occasion, I could certainly accommodate you.”

“In your dreams!”

He wiggled his eyebrows.  Actually wiggled them!  “Perhaps.”

Emma growled.  “Are you kidding me right now?  It’s too early for this!”

He seemed to sense he’d pushed her as far as was prudent, and he sighed.  “I vow to be the perfect gentleman.  IIf we at least secure the item, we can then decide later who is the victor.”

She gave him a quick look and could see the sincerity in his eyes.  She was good at spotting when someone was lying, after all.  Finally she sighed.  “Fine.  But we both buy it–split the cost fifty-fifty.  That way neither one of us can claim ownership of the book before we get everything ironed out.”

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

“Here you are folks,” the perky brunette waitress said half an hour later.  “One black coffee and one hot cocoa with cinnamon.

Killian heard the waitress lean whisper “Emma, he’s hot” to the woman on the other side of the booth.

She growled and whispered “Ruby, shut it!” back.

He chuckled.  This was turning into one of the most delightful mornings he’d had in ages.  When the waitress had flitted over to another set of customers, Killian leaned back and grinned at his companion.  “She’s right, you know,” he said.  ‘I have been called devilishly handsome.”

“I’ll give you the devilish part,” she said with a wry quirk of her brow.  “Look…what did you say your name was?”

“Did I fail to introduce myself?  How very rude of me.  Killian Jones, at your service,” he said with a bow.  Her cheeks colored alluringly at his formality, and Killian was delighted at her reaction to him.

She was utterly captivating, and the truth was, he hadn’t been so quickly, completely and charmingly smitten with anyone since Milah.  Though he very much wanted to attain the fairy tale book for his Alice, he couldn’t say he regretted the complications this morning had brought.

He didn’t know what possessed him to ask this woman to coffee.  All he knew as they stood facing off in the bookstore was that he did not want their time together to be at an end anytime soon.

“Emma Swan,” she muttered.

A fit of pure devilishness came over him, and he reached over, took her hand and brought it to her lips.  “Enchanted.” he whispered.

Her quick, indrawn breath made his grin widen, and she quickly pulled her hand back and busied herself with taking a sip of her beverage.

“So, Killian Jones,” she said, her voice not quite steady, “what are we going to do about this book?  I don’t mean to be a jerk about it, but I really need this book.  My son…well, this is the only thing he’s asked for, and it’s been a rough year for him.  I just…I just want to be able to give him this one thing so maybe I don’t feel like such a failure as a parent.”

His heart turned over.  He could tell she’d said more than she’d intended.  Emma Swan didn’t strike him as someone who let her walls down quickly or shared her feelings of inadequacy with strangers.

“As a single parent myself, I can relate to the feelings, love,” he said, “but I’ve no doubt book or no book, you’re hardly a failure as a parent.”

“Yeah, well,” she said, glancing uncomfortably aside.  “I feel like it.”

Killian was silent for a long moment, taking a sip of his coffee.  If it weren’t for Alice, he’d give up his claim on the book in a moment, but it was for Alice.  Was there any way they could both get what they wanted?

“I don’t wish to be intransigent either,” he said finally, “and my behavior today is not a matter of mere stubbornness.  My daughter also has her heart set on this particular book.”

Her eyes softened at his statement, acknowledging their dueling claims as parents wanting the best for their respective children.  “Yeah, I get it, so that brings me back to my original question.  How do we decide who gets the book?”

Suddenly an idea struck him.  It was unorthodox to say the least, unorthodox to the point of being downright bizarre, but it did have it’s merits–namely the fact that, should she agree to it, they’d be forced to see each other again on a fairly regular basis.

“I do have an idea,” he said slowly, “but it may sound positively daft.”

She gave him an assessing look, taking another dainty sip of her cocoa.  “Okay, I’m listening.”

“What if we share the book?” he blurted out.

“Share it?  What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he said, “what if we trade off?  Your lad gets the book one week, and then my Alice gets it the next, and so on.”

Her brow furrowed.  “You mean like…joint custody…of a book.”

He shrugged with a grin.  “I told you it would sound daft.”

Killian was encouraged by the fact that Emma didn’t outright shoot down his (odd) idea.  She seemed to consider it, staring into space for several moments, before briefly nodding.  “It is a weird solution, but I think it might be the best way we can both get what we want.  Can’t believe I’m saying this, but you have a deal.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

"It worked!" Henry said excitedly he following Monday morning as he got off the school bus and sprinted over to Alice.  "My mom told me all about it.  Your dad and my mom decided to share the storybook!"

"I know!" Alice said, smile wide and delighted.  "My papa explained the situation to me.  I could tell he felt bad that he didn't get the book, and I wanted to make him feel better, but then I thought maybe it would be better to act kinda disappointed."

"Good thinking," Henry said with a nod as they reached their classroom and headed for their desks.  "If they feel guilty, then they'll make sure to always make the drop off, and then they'll have to meet every week.  We'll be brother and sister by Easter!"

"I hope you're right," Alice said with a sigh.  "I know my papa gets lonely sometimes, and it would be nice if he had someone besides me in his life."

"Exactly," Henry agreed. "And my mom needs to know that not every guy's like my dad.  Not every guy's gonna leave her.

Henry busied himself setting his backpack on the floor and getting out his books and then he looked back at Alice with a troubled look.  "You don't think they'll be mad at us, do you?  You know, for being sneaky and everything."

Alice shook her head vehemently.  "They'll be too happy together for that.  Sometimes adults are just too busy to see what's right in front of them.  That's when their kids have to step in and parent trap them."

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Thanksgiving Reruns--Day 2: Thankful

I would like to wish a very happy Thanksgiving to all my followers who celebrate it, and as a thank you, here are a few of my past Thanksgiving stories.  Enjoy!

Title: Thankful

Rating: G

Words: 2705

Summary: Pre-7x2 deleted scene.  The Swan/Jones/Charming/Mills family gets together for Thanksgiving dinner.  This year, Emma and Killian have something extra special for which to be thankful.

 Tagging a few people who may be interested (Let me know if you want to be added or taken off the list): @sailormew4​ @annaamell​ @flslp87​ @emmateo26​@bethacaciakay​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @ineffablecolors​, @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @kat2609​ @brooke-to-broch​ @missgymgirl​ @galadriel26​ @the-lady-of-misthaven​ @charmingturkeysandwich​ @jennjenn615​ @laschatzi​ @kimmy46​ @snowbellewells​ @iamanneenigma​ @daxx04​ @nickillian​ @a-rose-for-a-savior @in-spirational​ @gillie​  @britishguyslover​ @ginnyjinxedandhanshotritafirst​ @kmomof4​  @linda8084​ @golfgirld​ @captain-swan-coffee​ @searchingwardrobes​ @hollyethecurious​ @laughswaytoomuch​  @allyourdarlingswans​  @winterbaby89​ @facesiousbutton82​ @therooksshiningknight​, @lfh1226-linda​ @tiganasummertree​

 Other Chapters: 1 3 4 5

 Thankful

 CS Genre:  Deleted scene, pre 7x2

Growing up, Emma remembered the holidays as a cold, dreary, depressing time.  Everywhere she turned there were happy families, basking in the joy of the season.  Bright red and green decorations everywhere.  Singers crooning about the happiest time of the year.  Movies and tv shows about the joy and magic of the holidays. 

All it ever did was remind Emma of what she didn’t have. 

But that had all changed when she came to Storybrooke and found her family and her true love.

Emma woke early on Thanksgiving morning, a bright smile on her face and a song in her heart.  She lay pleasantly cocooned in a mountain of quilts, her husband’s warmth surrounding her, his arm slung over her waist, his hand splayed across her still-flat belly, holding their child close.

It was incredible how much her life had changed in just a few short years.  She missed Henry like crazy, especially during the holidays, but other than his absence, her life was about as close to perfect as it was possible to get.

Well…almost.  Emma felt her stomach roil as the ever present morning sickness reared its ugly head.  She took deep breaths, willing the nausea to subside, but after a minute or two she realized it was useless.  Moving as gently as possible so as not to disturb Killian, she got out of bed and nearly sprinted to the bathroom.

She loved this baby with everything in her already, but anyone who suggested pregnancy was fun needed to be committed.  Funny, she didn’t remember the first trimester being this miserable with Henry.  Oh she’d been a little more tired than normal, and she’d felt a bit sick for a couple of weeks, but it was the emotional turmoil that had been the worst.

It seemed getting pregnant in your early thirties was far different than getting pregnant in your teens.  Still, despite the unbelievable fatigue, the morning sickness that seemed to last most of the day, the constant weird cravings, and the times she felt faint, she wouldn’t trade this for anything.

Emma rinsed out her mouth, gargled a bit of mouth wash, splashed some water on her face and padded back to the bed.  Killian sat up in the bed, his hair delightfully touselled, and looked over at her in concern.

“Swan?” he asked, pulling up the covers and welcoming her back into the shelter of his arms, “are you quite well, love?”

Emma chuckled humorlessly.  “Killian, this kid of yours is trying to kill me.”

If possible, Killian looked even more concerned.  “Shall I ring the doctor?”

Emma laughed again.  “Killian we’ve talked about this.  I’m fine.  A bit miserable, but fine.  Besides, I think if you call Whale one more time to freak out about a little routine morning sickness, he’s going to come over here and beat you with his stethoscope.”

Emma loved having a husband who wanted to take care of her during her pregnancy, one who loved and wanted this baby at least as much as she did.  She loved Killian for it, but his whole concerned husband/mother hen routine had gotten old by about the second day they’d known about the pregnancy.

“Are you sure you should be lifting that love?” he’d asked, as she reached for the throw pillows that decorated their bed.

“A pillow, Killian?  Seriously?”

Later in the sheriff’s station, he’d been even worse.  “Swan, I’m not altogether sure you should go out on that call.  Wouldn’t want anything to happen to you or the baby.”

“Killian, Dopey and Doc got into a fender bender.  Just how dangerous do you think responding to that is going to be?”

“Perhaps you’d best take a rest in one of the unoccupied cells, love.  You must keep your strength up,” he’d continued.

“Killian stop fussing!”

But the last straw had come when Killian called Whale for the fifteenth time in the first week, concerned about her fatigue and nausea.

“Killian,” Emma said firmly, “I love you with all my heart.  I would go (and have gone) through hell for you, but I swear if you don’t stop hovering I’m going to turn you into a ferret.  I’m pregnant, not an invalid.

He’d gotten much better since then, but he still watched her like a hawk, ready to come to her assistance at the slightest indication it was needed.

Emma settled into the bed, kissed her husband, and prepared to catch a few more z’s when her stomach growled loud enough to wake the dead.  Killian chuckled.  “Our lass is demanding nourishment now, is she?”

It was, of course, far too early to know the sex of their baby, but Killian was sure they were having a daughter, and Emma had to admit she had the same feeling.

“She’s famished, as always,” Emma said.  “Guess it’s time to get up and see what’s for breakfast.”

Killian stopped her with a gentle hand to her shoulder.  “Stay put love.  Let me bring my girls breakfast in bed.”

Her heart turned over at the love in his eyes, the way he always wanted to do little things for her.  “Certainly not going to turn down an offer like that.”

“And just what does my little princess wish for her morning repast today?”

Emma grinned.  “Okay, I know this sounds totally disgusting, but do you know what I’m craving like crazy right now?”

“I couldn’t even begin to guess what noisome combination of food items you desire today,” he said.

“What I really want is a couple of my blueberry Pop-Tarts and a big dill pickle.”

Killian pulled a face, but dutifully shuffled off toward the kitchen.

Emma settled back against the pillows and smiled, putting a protective hand over her belly as she waited for her breakfast.  Today was a big day.  Today was the day she and Killian told the family their big news.  Killian had been so excited when she told him about the baby six weeks ago that he’d been ready to call her father (and his best mate) on the spot, but Emma had stopped him.

“Killian, would you mind terribly if we waited a bit to tell people?” she’d asked hesitantly.

He’d given her a surprised look, but then slowly shook his head.  “I suppose not, love, but why shouldn’t we share our joy?”

She’d shrugged.  “I don’t know.  It’s just so…new and exciting.  I was kind of hoping we could celebrate privately for a while, just have this an incredibly amazing secret just between the two of us.”

He’d agreed with her, and in the end, they’d decided Thanksgiving day would be the perfect time to tell the family.

“Your grandma and grandpa are going to be so excited to find out about you, baby,” she whispered softly.

Emma had more to be thankful for this Thanksgiving than she ever had before.

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

Thanksgiving dinner had become somewhat of a tradition for the Charming/Swan/Jones/Mills family over the years.  The first Thanksgiving dinner they’d had together wasn’t actually on Thanksgiving at all.  It was in the middle of the spring, just after the Black Fairy had been defeated.  The whole gang (including Rumple, Belle and a newly baby-ized Gideon) met at Granny’s for lasagna and Regina’s famous apple turnovers.  Snow had insisted they go around the table and list something they were thankful for.  Despite some snark and grumbling (mainly from Zelena), everyone had complied, and a new family tradition was born.

Ever since that day, Thanksgiving dinner had moved to the appropriate day, near the end of November.  Granny’s had hosted them for the first couple of years, but when Anton finally succeeded in getting his newly planted magic bean fields to yield, she’d taken to realm hopping over the holidays so she could spend time with Ruby.  Now they all took turns hosting.

This year, the Mills sisters had the honor of hosting the big family dinner.

And so it was that early in the evening, Emma and Killian walked hand in hand into the mayor’s mansion, proffering a bottle of rum as a hostess gift.

“This looks like the good stuff,” Emma said, as Killian rang the doorbell, and they waited to be welcomed in.  “Too bad I won’t be able to drink it for a good seven months.”

“Don’t worry love,” Killian said with a wink.  “I’ll drink enough for both of us.”

For that, he received a (somewhat) playful smack.

Zelena opened the door with an eyeroll.  “About time you two arrived.  You’re ten minutes late.  After hours of slaving away in the kitchen (which is torture without magic), if you ruined a single dish there will be hell to pay.”

“Happy Thanksgiving to you too, Zelena,” Emma said with a grin.  “Sorry, we were just…um…delayed a bit, and lost track of time.”

She prayed her face wasn’t flaming as much as she suspected it was.  Another side effect of this pregnancy seemed to be that she wanted her husband.  Like all the time.  And Killian, good husband that he was, was always up to the task.  It’s possible they might have gotten carried away this afternoon and been so lost in each other that they totally forgot there was even such a thing as Thanksgiving.

Zelena looked back and forth between them for a moment, and then dramatically rolled her eyes.  “Can we just have one day where we’re not all nauseated at the thought of the two of you constantly getting it on?”

Killian smirked as he looked down at Emma, his look pure sin and wickedness.  “I wouldn’t count on it.”

And Zeus help her, but she was ready to drag Killian into the nearest private space she could find and have her way with him again.  Pregnancy hormones were going to be the death of her (and possibly the death of her pirate as well, considering the look her dad shot him as he walked into the foyer just in time to hear that little exchange).

The Golds had left on their big world tour some five or six years ago now, and of course Henry was off trying to create his own story, but even so, the Mills sisters’ dining room table was nearly filled to capacity between the Charmings, the Swan-Jones’s, the Mills sisters and the two rambunctious kids.  (Seriously, Neal and Robyn could get into more trouble together than any ten children Emma knew growing up in group homes.)

Emma settled in with Killian on one side and her mother on the other.  Snow leaned over and gave Emma a motherly one-armed hug. 

“Something’s different about you today, Emma,” Snow said with a smile.  “You’re positively glowing.”

Emma smiled and on impulse hugged her mom back.  “I’m just happy, mom,” she said meaning it with her whole heart.  “These big family get togethers are more than I ever could have hoped for, despite the inevitable snark-off between Regina and Zelena.”

Snow smiled gently.  “I’ll always regret all the years we missed together, but the fact that we can have these moments now, well it’s what I’ve always wanted for our family.”

Dinner, consisting of all the traditional Thanksgiving favorites, was delicious.  Emma always secretly loved it when Regina and Zelena hosted Thanksgiving, because magic or no magic, they were amazing cooks.  Turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes and gravy, homemade dinner rolls, sweet potatoes and steamed vegetables.  All of it was delectable.  This year, however, the cranberry sauce nearly made her stomach turn.  Right then; so baby Swan-Jones did not like cranberries.  It took a few moments of deep breathing and swallowing hard, but luckily Emma was able to push the nausea aside and finish her dinner in peace.

David waited until they’d finished eating, everyone feeling like they’d burst if they consumed another bite, and then stood at the head of the table, clinking his glass.

“Well now that we’ve eaten, you all know what time it is.  It’s time for everyone to share what they’re thankful for.  Regina, as hostess, do you want to start?”

Regina smiled, waved her hand and produced a small piece of paper.  “I’m grateful for this letter Henry managed to get to me yesterday.  He’s doing well, and he’s having all types of adventures.  Okay, Zelena.  Your turn.”

Zelena took a sip of her rum.  “I’m thankful Leroy caught laryngitis.  His constant town crier act got old about ten years ago.  Robyn, darling?”

The little red head grinned, showing off a missing tooth or two.  “I’m thankful Mother Superior never found out it was me that put the ‘Shady Blue’ sign on her back.”

This, of course, resulted in admonishment from most of the adults, but Emma turned away to hide her grin.

“Neal, you’re next.”

Neal Nolan, frowned with all of his eight-year-old might and glared at his parents.  He, apparently was still put out about his mother forbidding him from having a third apple turnover.   “I don’t want to say anything!  I’m not thankful!”

David shot him a stern look, and Neal looked back defiantly for another moment, but then dropped his eyes.  “Fine!  I’m thankful for Wilby.”

Ever since the Charmings had bought their farmhouse and adopted Wilby, dog and boy had been nearly inseparable.

“I guess I’ll go next,” David said after nodding approvingly at his recalcitrant son.  “I’m thankful for the life we have now.  I’m thankful to be back on a farm, working the land.  I’m thankful to have the best wife, son, daughter and son-in-law a man could ever have.  Snow?  How about you?”

Snow reached over and squeezed her husband’s hand affectionately.  “I’m thankful that we’re all here, all together, all happy and healthy.  It’s all I ever wanted for this family.  Emma?  Your turn.  What are you thankful for this year?”

Here it was, the moment of truth, the moment she and Killian had been planning pretty much since they got the positive pregnancy test.  Emma reached over and linked her fingers with her husbands’.

“Actually, mom,” Emma said, unable to hold back her smile.  “This year Killian and I wanted to share what we’re thankful for together.”

A knowing, excited look came into Snow’s face.  “Emma, honey?  Are you about to tell us what I think you’re about to tell us?”

“Yeah, I think I am,” Emma said, smiling as she looked over at her mom then her dad.  “So in just over seven months you and dad are going to be grandparents again.  Killian and I are expecting!”

Emma couldn’t have hoped for a better reaction to their big news.  From Snow nearly crushing her in a hug, to David patting Killian on the back, to the kids cheering about having a new playmate on the way, to Zelena demanding Regina pay up.  “I told you that’s why she wouldn’t drink the rum, Sis.  You owe me”, everyone shared their joy.  Everyone was ready to welcome the little cygnet into their big, crazy family with open arms.

“We can’t wait,” Killian said, “we’ve wanted this for such a long time, but I was starting to think it would never happen.  Not for lack of trying, mind you.  Swan and I had plenty of practice over the last couple of years.”

Neal tugged on his dad’s sleeve.  “Dad, what kind of practice does he mean?”

It was hard to tell, which was redder, the cranberry sauce or David’s face.  “Trust me son.  That’s a detail neither you nor I want to know about.  At all.”

As Regina and Zelena set about to clear the table, and Snow began talking about the baby shower she was bound and determined to throw for them, Emma looked over at Killian, tears welling in her eyes.  He shot her a tender look, reaching up to swipe at her cheek.  A lost girl and a lost boy they might have been, but this child, the product of their true love, would know no such heartache.  Still months away from greeting the world, and already she had more people that loved her than she’d ever know what to do with.

Never had there been a time when Emma had more for which to be tha