#cssecretsanta

“Alright, my love, here we go,” Killian explains while lifting up his 5-year-old daughter to carry her on his shoulders.

--- Traditions ---

He's making sure she finds a comfortable position before they embark on the journey from the kitchen to the living room area, where the object of their quest is waiting for them. Bare and still a little covered in what's left of the powdered snow that had buried it underneath overnight — several small puddles of meltwater have started to form around it on the wooden floor already, though — it guides them to their destination with its distinctive smell.

His spirits are high; he's been looking forward to this particular tradition ever since he got introduced to it. So when he finally starts to move, he can't resist initiating a little playful scenario…

“You're swaying like the Roger,” Hope says, giggling loudly when her father is dramatically imitating a ship's movement, leaning his body from one side to the other with every step he takes, making an extra round or two around the kitchen table before he changes his course.

“Apologies, but there's bumpy waters ahead, my little first mate,” he calls out to her before he stops next to the stairs that lead to the second floor of their house. “Now, should we head “port” or “starboard” to reach our destination?”

“Starboard!!! Starboard!!”

“Aye aye!” He exclaims, turns to the right, and heads for the bay-window corner where his enchanted telescope is usually located at…

And there it finally was in all its glory — the Christmas tree Hope had been holding a topper for in one of her small hands the entire time.

After they reach the bottom branches, Killian tightens his grip around her legs and leans forward to give his daughter better access to reach the top to add the star-shaped ornament to the tree.

“Steady… steady now.” He advises, watching her fumbling to complete her task, some of the needles lightly piercing the skin of his hands, neck and face, a small twig of the fir nearly snapping into his right eye when he adjusts his position a little.

“Done, Papa,” she proudly states, and they're finally able to retreat a little from the needle-leaved plant to check the position of the tree topper.

“Perfectly even, well done.” Her father praises, secretly happy that he doesn't need to get too close to it again and risk any more irritations to his skin, let alone losing an eye.

“After all these years of experience in decorating the tree, you're still starting with the finishing touch?” Emma suddenly quips from behind with a smug grin on her face.

She had been busy searching for the rest of the decorations in the basement but was drawn to the scene by the laughter filling their house. So she snuck back up and watched them quietly, leaning at the wall next to the stairs, arms crossed with a smile on her lips.

“So you'd rather want to see us keel over into that thing after all the decorations are done?” Her husband responds jokingly with a raised brow.

“I'd rather have you not crash into it at all…but you have a point there.”

Killian sets Hope down, and she runs off to rummage through the few boxes her mother had already brought upstairs, looking for her favorite decorations.

“What brought you here, love?” He asks in a genuine tone, wondering if she needs help with the boxes.

“Oh, you know, just that “second star to the right” thing,” she explains, pointing at the top of the fir where the star-shaped ornament is glistening in the reflection of the light shining through the windows.

The way she said this wasn't casual; it definitely carried a tint of a flirty undertone — at least to him. For all the ones he never understands, he at least gets this reference. Neverland. The place he truly fell in love with her. He had never thought there'd be a single chance that he'd one day possess a good memory of that cursed island, but here he is now, looking at his wife in front of him, remembering their shared moments and first instance of real intimacy.

So he tilts his head a little, a small cocky smile appearing on his lips, and convicts suspiciously, “Of course.”

A small laugh escapes her at his reaction, knowing that he understood. Then she pushes herself off the wall and ventures to the kitchen, leaving him wondering what she's up to.

Killian’s gaze briefly wanders to where Hope had been checking the content of the boxes, realizing that she's not there anymore. She must have gone searching for her favorite ornaments because they haven't yet been included in the boxes Emma had brought.

It's the same every single year — the order in which the tree needs to be decorated is extremely important to their daughter, and he won't bloody mess with that by continuing the task alone. Not that he would want to without her present anyway…

“You know,” he calls out to his wife while cleaning up the puddles underneath the tree before they ruin the floor, breathing in the aroma of the freshly cut fir. ”As much as I didn't know anything about this,” he gets up, straightens his clothes, and gestures at it with his hand, “prickly tree tradition, I must admit it is my favorite now.”

“You mean after the one that allows you to drink as much as you like once a year?” She cheekily inquires while presenting an eggnog to him.

He briefly looks at the creamy, yellowish beverage before his face falls and he retorts with a raised brow, "Joke’s on you, Swan. You know I wouldn't touch that thing made of raw eggs ever again…”

Whatever went down the first year he tried it, they swore to never talk about it again. Yet, it became somewhat of an insider joke, and she wouldn't miss a single year to make it…

“Just a bit of a reminder.” Her eyes smile in a challenging fashion when she says this over the rim of her glass, taking a sip.

She wants flirty banter? He had mastered this particular skill centuries before she was even born…

“More like teasing, I'd say…” He steps closer, his face coming to a halt next to the left side of her face, breathing a whispered, “There are certain places I'd rather want you to, though,” in her ear, which sends a pleasant shiver down her spine.

“Can we put these on first?” The married couple gets suddenly interrupted by their daughter, who presents a small box of assorted ornaments to them both.

Emma is caught a little off guard at the sight, a tint of disappointment present in her voice, “Oh, sweetie, I thought those were supposed to be much more of a surprise?”

Her husband, on the other hand, gasps when the choice of said ornaments dawns on him…

“You didn't,” he whispers, stunned.

“What? Did you expect us to bury this like treasure first?” His wife retorts a little cheekily after having taken his hand in hers.

But she'd already seen it; already acknowledged that for once he's at a loss for most of his words, eyes glassy from being moved to the brink of tears.

Killian feels their love and appreciation for him every day, but this early present now is somewhat of an added physical proof of it. He carefully takes out one ornament after the other and aligns them on his hook, analyzing all details of the four small objects dangling slightly in front of his face.

The tiny steering wheel, ship and compass are made of wood and beautifully painted to resemble the Jolly Roger and the compass Emma and he went to get during their first shared adventure. A literal compass led him to his true love? Kind of poetic, he briefly thinks, remembering their quest.

The fourth item is a small replica of his hook and — like its bigger counterpart — made of metal, reflecting his face on its polished surface.

“We thought it's about time you get your own set, too.” Emma explains in a soft voice, her head resting on his right shoulder, and left arm slung around his waist.

His own set. Four ornaments to represent him. Four items to join the ones that they'd been using for years… There are the glass unicorns of Emma's crib’s mobile Snow was always wary about ever since that ghastly premonition she received all those years ago. Her daughter, though, wanted them for Hope's nursery, refusing to let the past dictate their current lives and wanting to break the curse of generational trauma. And when Hope outgrew her crib, they ended up as decorations for their trees and were joined by a bunch of red, glass, swan-shaped ones two years ago, when Emma received them as a present from her mother. One set of decorations for Hope and one for Emma. And now one for him, too.

“Merry Christmas.” She says while planting a kiss on his cheek.

“Merry Christmas!” Their daughter chimes in happily. “Can I hang them on the tree, Papa?” She asks, pulling lightly at the cuff of his hooked-arms dress shirt.

“Of course, my love.” He beams at her joyfully, lowering his arm to give her access to his hook. "You pick the spots and tell me if I need to lift you up again.” He adds while she slides the first ornament from the bent metal substitute for her father's missing hand.

“Okay, you two get to this,” Emma states, adding in a whisper to his ear with a wink, “And I go get you a glass of spiced grog to atone for earlier.”

“Mmmhhh, this will truly forever remain my favorite tradition.” He remarks contentedly before she makes her way to the kitchen, and Hope is about to get the next item from his hook to add to the fir.

And who knows, maybe they'll get ornaments representing the rest of their family members and add them to the trees in the future, too? Because for them a Christmas tree isn't just that; it’s a family tree — literally.

________

“Merry Christmas, sir.”

“And the same to you, lass.”

Killian chuckles under his breath, as he thinks that Liam is making quite a fool of himself fawning over the pretty barmaids.  His older brother gives them all a smile and an exaggerated bow and a lingering kiss on the hand, and they sigh dreamily and bat long lashes at him.

During the holidays, the sailors earn extra days of shore leave, and the taverns are always filled with extra cheer and extra alcohol.  The barmaids are eager to serve them, and Liam’s friendly smile and easygoing manner bring several of them to the table throughout the evening.

When a particularly pretty maid with long blond hair and an overly tight corset approaches their table, Liam nods towards his brother.

“Can I introduce you to my little brother, Killian?” he asks.

“He means younger brother,” Killian drawls lazily because he’s already indulged in too much drink.

He’s slumped at the far end of the table, leaning back against the wall with a fresh stein of liquor clutched in his hand, and the young lass giggles and gives Killian a sweet smile, lowering herself onto his lap and giving his arm a flirtatious squeeze.

“Well, if it isn’t the Brothers Jones.”

The newest tavern guest has a familiar voice to both of them but not a welcome one, and Killian sighs in exasperation.

“Eddie,” he gives a curt greeting, purposely emphasizing the diminutive nickname because he knows the other man hates it.

It’s not the first time they’ve run into him.  Eddie and his shipmates are an obnoxious bunch, and they’re gaining a reputation on the high seas for causing trouble wherever they go.  Because he sports signature long, black hair and runs with such a ruthless crew, many have started calling him Blackbeard.

“Well, hello there.”  Eddie’s voice drops a few pitches to a sultry tone as he grabs onto the barmaid’s arm and hauls her to her feet.  “Aren’t you a pretty one?  Tell me, dear, do you find deckhands who reek of fish guts attractive?”  His lips curl into a sneer, clearly intending for both brothers to overhear.

“Leave the lady alone,” Killian mutters, forcefully batting Eddie’s hand away.

“Killian.”  Liam gives the warning in a low voice because he can already see the tension coiling in his little brother, and he lays a steady hand on his shoulder.  Killian is usually the quieter one, but he’s also the one with the hotter temper when there’s enough to light the flames.

Eddie glares at both of them and rakes a lecherous eye over the barmaid.  “Or maybe the wench just has a particularly soft spot for orphans who have been sold into servitude.”

“Oh, you are a bastard.”  Killian’s jaw instantly clenches, and his eyes narrow into angry slits.

“Killian, no!” Liam barks.

But it’s too late.

The barmaid screams as his little brother angrily lunges forward and socks Eddie in the jaw.  Eddie lets out a sharp, mocking laugh, as if he had been expecting just that, and he’s quick to retaliate, snapping Killian’s head back with a blow of his own and knocking him to the floor.

The alcohol slows Killian’s reflexes, and he’s slow to rise, shaking the sting out of his knuckles and wiping a trickle of blood from his mouth.

“Killian, stop, he’s not worth it,” Liam commands, grabbing his brother’s arm, but Killian is beyond listening at this point.

“No wonder your father traded both of you for the price of his freedom,” Eddie taunts.  “He knew his sons would never be worth anything more than the sludge they scrape off the deck.”

Killian’s rage explodes and he catches Eddie by surprise with a full body tackle that slams him backwards into the wall.  With Eddie pinned against the wall, Killian closes his grip around his throat, taking great pleasure in watching the other man struggle for air.

“Our father was a bastard,” Killian hisses in his face.  “And Liam would be a better father than his own ever was.”

“And what about you?” Eddie manages to spit back.  “You’re a drunken fool with an uncontrollable temper.  What kind of father would you be?”

~*~o~*~

“Looks like it’s really coming down out there now.”

Emma is in the kitchen, adding a few dashes of cinnamon to the hot cocoa, and she shivers as an icy draft rushes into the house when the front door opens and closes behind her husband.

Killian shakes the snow from his hair, his arms filled with firewood, and he throws a couple more logs into the fireplace.  He sparks the first flame with a lighter – and Emma smothers a chuckle that he’s truly become a 21st century man now – and then he sinks wearily into the couch as the fire starts to burn.

“Killian?” Emma asks with concern.  She comes in from the kitchen, easing herself down on the couch and handing him a mug – a mix of hot cocoa and rum because she knows she’ll never entirely cure him of the rum habit.

“Hey,” she says softly, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.  “What’s wrong?”

Killian shakes his head.  “It’s nothing,” he insists.  “Just remembering things best left forgotten.”

Emma knows Killian well enough that he’ll tell her when he’s ready, and she’s content to settle in by his side on the couch, sipping her hot cocoa and resting her head against his shoulder as they both watch the flames crackle and flicker.

The temperature has dropped significantly since sunset, and the snow has been coming down for a couple of hours now.  It’s only expected to get worse, with heavy accumulation and strong winter winds, and Grumpy had spread the word to stay off the roads so the dwarves can plow.

It’s a perfect night for a fire and hot cocoa and nestling together under a warm blanket, but when Emma tries to tuck the blanket around her legs, Killian doesn’t miss the way his wife winces.

“Emma, are you okay?”

Quickly, he lays a concerned hand over hers as she clutches her side and lets out a gasp.

“Yeah, I’m fine…your daughter is just kicking hard tonight.”

That makes him smile a little.  “Aye, the lass knows a storm’s coming.”

Emma wonders if she should be concerned that her daughter can already forecast the weather as well as a sea-hardened sailor, but she takes Killian’s hand and gives it a soft squeeze, guiding it just under the hem of her sweater.

“Do you feel that?”

Killian nods, his eyes glowing with awe and happiness in the firelight. His fingers just barely ghost over Emma’s stomach and he’s certain that he feels the baby move.

It’s her 24th birthday, October 23rd. It’s a cold, windy, and rainy day in Storybrooke, Maine, but Emma is just glad to be celebrating with her son, Henry, and her close friends. She’s just watching Henry play with the Jukebox in the back of Granny’s when the bell over the door chimes, signaling another patron of the small restaurant has entered. She turns her head to see none other than her boss, Killian Jones, walk in the door with a wrapped gift in his bad arm. They lock eyes, and he gives her one of his rare soft smiles, usually reserved for her, Henry, or Killian’s best friend, David Nolan. David happens to also be at Granny’s tonight because he’s also Emma’s friend, and his wife, Mary Margaret, is Emma’s best friend.

“Killian,” Emma breathes. “You stopped by.”

“Wouldn’t miss it, Swan. Happy birthday, love,” Killian responds. He sets the gift down by her chair and stands awkwardly by her side.

“Killian! Glad you could make it, man,” David says from across the table, standing up to give Killian a bro handshake. “Sit down, man! Have something to eat or drink!”

Killian reluctantly obliges and pulls out the seat next to Emma. Just then, Henry seemed to notice their new guest and ran over.

“Hook!” Henry exclaims, and basically throws himself into Killian’s arms.

“It’s Killian,” Emma chided her son. Henry just beamed at her. Killian looked almost as excited as Henry to see the seven-year-old.

“It’s fine, love. Lad, it’s lovely to see you!” Killian commented and directed his attention to the child in his arms. Henry starts rattling off the things he’s done today and at school, and “Hey, Hook! Did you know today’s my mom’s birthday?” Killian obliges him good-naturedly. It’s probably been two or three months since the two have seen each other, and Killian asks how Henry’s doing every time he sees Emma at work. Killian owns the Jones Brothers’ Fishing Factory and part of the dock in Storybrooke. He is responsible for overseeing all the fishing that occurs from Storybrooke Harbor and has a factory that cleans, prepares, and packages the fish and shellfish caught. Even some fish and shellfish from other local areas send their fish to Killian’s factory and warehouse to be packaged. Killian’s older brother, Liam, started the company after he got out of the Navy. When Killian finished his tour in the Navy, he joined Liam, and they were very successful in the business for several years.

Three years ago, tragedy struck, and Liam was killed in a sailing accident. Killian nearly lost his left hand and wrist in the same accident. Since the accident, Killian hasn’t been the same. He pushed all of his close friends, including Emma, away while he grieved for his brother. During that time, Emma basically ran the company in Killian’s absence. Killian became a workaholic after the accident and came back to work too soon after his injury. He still had over 50 stitches in his left hand and was working nonstop. David still sees Killian regularly, and he still comes to birthdays and parties at David and Mary Margaret’s house, but he is still guarded in a way that makes Emma sad. She and Killian were very close before the accident. They flirted with each other relentlessly, and Killian was Emma’s best friend. Killian was practically a father figure to Henry because they were together so often. The accident has been hard on everyone who knew Killian and Liam, including Emma and Henry.

“Love?” Killian said, pulling Emma from her thoughts. Her cheeks turned pink before she could help herself.

“Sorry, just thinking. What did you say?”

“The lad wants you to open your present,” Killian responded, both boys looking at her expectantly.

“Oh, right. Of course. You really didn’t have to get me anything, Killian,” Emma replied.

“Nonsense, Swan. You and the lad purchased me a birthday gift this year, and I’ve been looking forward to returning the favor.” Emma picked up the present and started opening it carefully, while her memories pulled her back to Killian’s 30th birthday party in January of this year.

David threw Killian’s birthday party at Killian’s giant house, and when Emma arrived, she couldn’t find Killian anywhere. She had gotten Granny to watch Henry for the evening so she could go to the party, and she was looking forward to a nice night out and spending time with Killian. Only, there were so many people there that hardly knew Killian. Nearly everyone from Killian’s company had shown up, even though Killian had most certainly not chatted with these employees outside of strictly business. Emma had dressed up for the occasion and had worn ripped jeans, black ankle boots with a heel, and a nice blouse with a V-neck that showed off all of Emma’s good assets. She searched all areas where party participants were gathered, and even asked a few if they had seen Killian. She had a wrapped gift she had to give him that she and Henry had picked out together. She promised Henry she would get Killian to open his gift in front of her so she could recount his reaction to her very curious son.

Except, she walked the halls of Killian’s giant house and couldn’t find him. It finally dawned on her that he was probably sulking alone in his study, where he went to work and think. And in this case, avoid people. She went up the split-level stairs and opened the small door, where she followed another hallway until entering the door to his study. He specifically had his study hidden away from anyone who didn’t know how to get to it. Emma, however, knew every room in this house like the back of her hand, even though she hadn’t been in the house in over a year. She found Killian in his study, with a fire in the fireplace, and dressed in his usual: all black. He had a glass of rum in his right hand, and he turned his head slowly upon hearing her enter the room.

“Swan,” he had said. He smiled appreciatively at her as she walked closer to him and sat in the leather chair next to him.

“Drinking alone, are we?” She had asked, setting his present on the coffee table in front of them. Emma could see the hurt behind his blue eyes, as only someone close or used to be close to Killian could do.  

“Well, the festivities weren’t exactly my idea. Dave insisted, saying 30 was a big deal. So here we are. What brings you here, Swan?”

“Uh, I came to see you. Looked for you all over the house. Luckily, I know about your study and your brooding habits,” She replied, looking at him pointedly. “Henry and I picked out a gift for you, and he begged me to have you open it in front of me so I could recount your reaction to him in the morning.”

“The lad picked something out for me? It must be quite special,” Killian winked. He set down his rum between them and gingerly started opening the wrapping from the box. Emma took the time then to down Killian’s rum. She needed all the liquid courage she could get while Killian opened the emotional gift she and Henry had picked out for him. After opening the box, he gently pulled out the ship in the bottle. Not just any ship- but his beloved Jolly Roger replica in a bottle. Tears formed in his blue eyes, and he tried to blink them away, but Emma caught a few tears slip down his rosy cheeks into his black stubble.

“Emma, it’s” Killian started, but couldn’t finish.

“I know,” she replied, reaching her hand over to clasp onto his battered left hand. He looked up at her sharply then, and she could see the wrecked expression on his face.

“It’s perfect. I, I love it so much. It’s the most lovely gift. Please, tell Henry how very grateful I am for this.” He said, while staring into Emma’s green eyes.

“Of course,” she managed, holding back some of her own tears at this point.

“Where on Earth did you find such a magnificent vessel in a bottle?” Killian said, smirking at her while still looking at her with wonder. It made Emma feel like old times before the accident.

“Henry had the idea last fall. I went to Geppetto, who promised he could make your ship. He told me he was friends with Turtle Heart, the glassblower. They worked together to make it. It turned out really magnificent. Henry was ecstatic and kept asking when we could give it to you.” Emma finished. “I told him you were busy, but that I could give it to you tonight.”

“Thank you, Emma, and thank Henry for me. It’s perfect. I’m going to display it here in my study. Maybe even take a picture of it to put in my office at work. You should have told me, and I could have stopped by to see Henry myself. I miss the lad.”

“He misses you, too. Asks about you almost every day.” Emma smiled sadly.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around for him, Emma.”

“Hey, it’s not your responsibility. You’re not his dad. But, he does enjoy your company.” They spent the next hour or so talking quietly, and Killian poured Emma her own glass of rum. After a while, David came into the study to talk to Killian, and Emma excused herself and drove home. She was hopeful that this was the olive branch they needed to begin their friendship once again, but it almost seemed like Killian avoided all personal conversations while at work after the party. She saw him every day at work, given that she was the dock manager. She managed all the fishermen and fishing boats coming into the harbor. She was over their payroll, oversaw their weigh-ins each day, and managed all communication between the dock and the factory. Emma was Killian’s right-hand woman when it came to the dock and the fisherman. She also worked with the city during holidays to decorate the dock with round string lights during the late spring and summer, and Christmas lights during the winter. Besides Emma, the only other right-hand man was Mr. Smee, who was the assistant manager of the factory, second in command only to Killian.

Emma’s pulled out of her reverie when her fingers land on soft wool, and she pulls out a thick, red sweater. It’s a beautiful color, and it matches her signature red leather jacket to a tee. It feels warm, and it has a nice Aran fisherman style.

“Killian, it’s” she breathes, unable to finish her thought as she takes in the beautiful sweater that must have cost a small fortune.

“I know,” he says, repeating her own words from months ago at his birthday party back to her. She looks up sharply at his words, and he has a genuine smile that has been all too rare in the last few years. He smirks at her, the bastard, before giving her additional information about the sweater.

“I have a friend back in England who specializes in these sweaters. I know how much you love your sweaters and your red leather jacket. Thought this would be a nice addition to your wardrobe.” He says, still gazing into her eyes.

“Thank you, Killian. I love it.” She says, tears brimming in her eyes. Despite them not becoming closer since his birthday party, this did feel like his version of an olive branch. Maybe they can finally try to repair their friendship. David, Mary Margaret, and Henry are all talking about the sweater. Why her son knows the words “merino wool” is beyond her, but she takes it all in for a moment. She reaches her hand out to take Killian’s hand in hers and gives it a light squeeze. He reciprocates.

“Of course, Swan. I was also wondering if we could talk for a moment, alone?” Killian requests, suddenly looking sheepish. Emma nods before sending a pointed look to Mary Margaret and David, who nod and assure her they’ll look after Henry for a few minutes. She stands up from her chair and follows Killian down the hallway towards the bathrooms in the back of Granny’s. It’s one of the only places where there’s any resemblance to privacy here.

“So, what’s up?” Emma asks as she turns around to face Killian once they are alone in the back hallway.

“I uh,” Killian starts, while reaching his hand up to scratch his head by his ear- a tell that he was particularly nervous for this conversation.

“Killian, just spit it out. What’s wrong?” Emma demands, knowing he could stall when nervous. “Is something wrong at work?”

“No, well- no. Nothing is particularly wrong, so to speak.” Killian says, still avoiding the actual conversation.

“Then?”

“I have a proposition for you, Swan,” Killian finally says, staring directly at her, finally. Emma swallows hard, but keeps his gaze. A proposition? From Killian Jones? Her used to be best friend and super big crush, but most importantly- her boss- has a proposition for her?

“What, uh,” Emma clears her throat. “What is it?”

“You know that investor, Gold?”

“Like, Robert Gold? The mega-wealthy dude who owns like nearly all other fishing factories in the Northeast and is slowly making his way down the East Coast?” Emma says, thrown off that in a short conversation, Killian would use the word ‘proposition’ and Mr. Gold.

“That’d be the one. He’s uh, interested in coming to Storybrooke to see our operations.”

“Your operations. You own the company.” Emma points out.

“Well yes, but I couldn’t do it without you. You're my go-to for all business things.”

“Mr. Smee is assistant to the factory; shouldn’t he be here to discuss this, too? Should we talk tomorrow at work?”

“No, no. This doesn’t involve Smee at all, Swan. Mr. Gold has been trying to come and observe our operations for months now. I’ve stalled him for as long as I could, but he’s insisting. He’s offering a large investment in the company in exchange for viewing our operations for a few weeks. He wants to essentially come and go from Storybrooke to his other nearby factories. He wants to see why our factory and business are successful, despite not being in a metropolis like some of his other factories.” Killian explained.

“Okay, I’m still not sure what your proposition is about,” Emma said, unsure of where exactly this conversation is going. There’s the obvious- all employees need to be showing their best selves when Gold is in town, and all rules and regulations need to be especially monitored. There’s also the clean-up that needs to be done around the business- in the factory and Emma’s side of things at the dock and her building- but this still could have been a conversation for tomorrow at work.

“Gold has a clause in his offer. He will only financially support a business if they are a family-oriented business.” Killian says while looking at the ground.

“Okay, but everyone agrees that you are really lenient about people having to leave or come in late or whatever if they have a family emergency. I mean, Henry and I are a prime example.” Killian just looks at Emma like he can’t believe he has to actually put the pieces together for her.

“Emma,” Killian says pointedly, maintaining eye contact with her. “Gold wants me to be family-oriented. Like, have a family myself and be a family man. Not just my work practices for my employees.” Emma just stares back, not quite sure what he’s insinuating at this point.

“I don’t have my own family, Emma. You know this. My mother died when I was young, my father abandoned and neglected Liam and me, and Liam is dead. I’ve never married, and I’ve no children. I’m a bachelor, and I live in my stupidly large house by myself. Gold has asked as part of this deal to stay at my house as he comes and goes, and I’ve already picked a room on the first floor for him. He needs to see that I have my own family, living in my home, that I care about and cherish.” Killian takes a breath before stepping closer to Emma and taking her hands in his.

“My proposition, Emma, is that you and Henry pretend to be my family. It’s only for the next few months, until early December, I think. In exchange, I know you’ve been saving up for a down payment on a home, and I will be providing you with more than enough money for a down payment.” Emma was speechless. Pretending to be a family with him? A down payment? How did he even remember she was saving up to buy a house for her and Henry? She mentioned it during their conversation at his birthday party, but that was months ago.

“I uh,” Emma started, not sure how to respond to such a big favor.

“Listen, I know it’s a lot. This is why I’ve been brushing Gold off for so long. Dave and I were talking about it last week, and you and Henry came up. I know you both, and I am comfortable with you and Henry. I hope you are both comfortable with me. Henry can pick whichever bedroom he wants, and we can bring all his things from your place to his room at mine. He can decorate the room however he wants, and-”

“Killian,” Emma said, stopping his rambling. “Of course, we are both comfortable with you. I mean, Henry would love it. He’s a great little actor, and he loves you. He misses spending as much time with you as we used to before, uh, anyways. I just- is Gold going to believe us? I mean, there are so many logistical things like how we met that you or, or we are going to have to tell him. And how are we going to get everyone else at the factory to know this without spilling the secret? I mean, Gold is a huge deal. And Gold’s not stupid. He won’t believe you live with a family with your current decorating style. We’ll need pictures of us, and we’ll need to take pictures of us together. And we need to put them up and make your mansion like, homey, you know? It’s just a lot and-”

“And he’s offering a lot of money. And we can figure all the logistical aspects of this out- together. You are an integral part of our company, Emma. But this isn’t about that. We were friends, are friends. And we used to be really close, and I know it’s my fault because of what happened with uh, yeah. I don’t want just any woman and her child posing as my fake family and living with me. I know the family part won't be real, but I at least want my connection to you both to be real. I think because we know each other and used to be comfortable with each other and possibly can become comfortable with each other again, Gold will buy it. Because you aren't some random person, Emma. And Henry isn't some random kid. I already care deeply about you both, which is why I'm asking you.”

They stare at each other, just inches apart, still holding hands, both taking uneasy and shallow breaths. Finally, after what feels like an hour but is probably only a minute or so, Emma exhales a long breath before nodding her head.

“Okay, we’ll do it. But I'm telling Henry first. You can tell him later. How soon do we need to get this process in motion?” She asks.

“Uh, this weekend? We need to be ready by Monday.” Killian says sheepishly.

“This weekend?” Emma repeats, bewildered. “It's Thursday night!”

“I know, I know. It's, it's my bad. I've known for two weeks. I've been trying to figure out how to tell you.”

“Fine, fine. We'll figure it out, starting with a plan at work tomorrow. But right now, I need to take Henry home and get him in bed for school tomorrow. And figure out how to tell him you'll be his fake father for the next two months.” Emma says, shaking her head and stepping away from Killian towards the restaurant again. Killian follows her awkwardly, but stays for dessert and helps Emma get her few belongings into her bug. He's the last to leave Granny's, giving Henry a goodbye hug and telling him, “See you soon”. This time, Killian actually means it. He gives Emma a long hug outside of her bug, before whispering in her ear, “Thank you, Emma.” He kisses her cheek as they break apart, and he walks off towards his car. Emma's left to watch him walk as she touches her cheek gently. Maybe, just maybe, this proposition will be a good thing. Maybe she'll get her best friend back finally, and maybe Henry will have a father figure again.

---

Emma told Henry about Killian’s proposition on their way home from Granny’s last night. He was ecstatic to say the least. He promised he understood that it was really important he didn’t mess up when the businessman, Mr. Gold, was in town. Emma tried to set ground rules with him.

“This also means you have to listen to what Killian tells you, not just what I tell you. He’s going to be like your dad, and dads have to give kids directions too, just like moms.” Emma had said to Henry.

“I know, Mom. Hook was already like my dad before Uncle Liam died. But, this will be like we have a real family!” Henry had said excitedly as Emma unlocked the door to their tiny, shitty apartment. Living with Killian the next two months is going to feel like living in a mansion. Emma’s just excited to not have to share her bathroom with her 7-year-old anymore.

“We do have a real family,” Emma said, grumbling that her son didn’t consider her “real” family.

“I have a real Mom, and I’m a real kid, but we need another person to make a family. Like a Dad,” Henry said, looking at her pointedly. “I’ve always wanted to have a real family.”

Emma finally just nodded and smiled sadly, knowing how badly her son has always wanted to know his father. “I know, kid. Me too.”

“We’ll finally get our chance with Killian! I can’t wait!” Emma just smiled at him good-naturedly before hurrying him into the shower and getting ready for bed. But if Emma was completely honest with herself, she couldn’t wait either.

That night, on her 24th birthday, she dreamed that she, Killian, and Henry were a real family, and that it wasn’t just for show for Gold. She dreamed it was real.

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