#cssecretsanta2020

“I just don’ unnerstand why you and Killian aren’t a couple!” slurs Mary Margaret, assistant principal and friend, at her yearly end-of-summer bash. “You’re ovviously in loooooooooove.”

“Sure we are, Mary Margaret,” Emma placates. 

“But why haven’t you yet?” she demands. “You made me lose the pool!”

That draws Emma up short. “I’m sorry, what?”

The little pixie-haired brunette frowns. “Don’t you know? We’ve had a betting pool going for ages about when you’d get together this year. I thought for sure it’d be the Fourth of July.”

It’s a good guess, actually - Ruby throws a famously boozy bash every year at her grandmother’s diner, conveniently situated right below the inn. It’d make sense for them to get drunk and take things upstairs - except for the fact that none of this is rooted in sense in any way, shape, or form.

“That obviously didn’t happen,” Mary Margaret frowns sorrowfully, staring down into her plastic cup full of god-knows-what. It doesn’t last long, though, as she perks right back up. “But they let me make a new guess! I’ve got my money on the Friday after your birthday.”

“How much money are we talking here?” Emma can’t help but ask. It’s like a compulsion, one she doesn’t like or understand. 

“Five hundred and fifty dollars.” At least that’s what she thinks Mary Margaret says; the slurring gets particularly bad on the f-sounds. It’s an astounding sum. Truly stupid.

Kind of tempting.

“And everyone bet that it would happen this year?” she makes sure to clarify.

“Yup!” Mary Margaret pops the p-sound and then giggles to herself about the noise. 

“Then I’m putting fifty dollars on it not happening this year. That Killian and I won’t get together.”

———

She means it at the time, too. Because yeah, there’s sometimes that niggling little what if?, but they’ve known each other for eight years. Emma and Killian. Killian and Emma. It’s not going to happen - honestly she’s not even sure she would want it to.

Until. 

It’s not the Friday after her birthday, when they’re all going to hit the bar, but it’s the night before her birthday - a Tuesday. Killian comes over to grade vocab quizzes and eat greasy pizza, and stays to drink beer and watch stupid baking shows with her on the couch. Honestly, in so many ways, it’s a night like any other: two friends, just enjoying each other’s company.

Until.

Maybe it’s the beers. Maybe something’s been building for longer than she ever thought. Maybe it’s just that they’re both feeling good and, well, it is her birthday. But Killian kisses her - or she kisses Killian - they kiss each other and it’s like something slots into place. Like of course this was going to happen - they were just waiting for the perfect moment. It makes sense, in a way that Emma hasn’t let herself think about; he’s the person she trusts most, the best man she knows, probably the most important person in her life. Her best friend - and, probably, something more.

“That was…” he gasps, some indeterminable amount of time later. Somehow, he’s wound up on top of her on the couch - not that she’s complaining.

“Only the beginning,” Emma completes, smirking in a way she definitely picked up from him. 

Now that this has started, she has no intention of stopping. 

———

“Ok, don’t kill me - or, like, run away immediately - but I need a favor. A huge one,” Emma says much later, both of them naked and sated beneath her sheets.

Killian laughs beside her, peering up from the pillows with a smile. “After that, darling, I’m predisposed to give you just about anything you want.”

“And I’ll give it to you again,” she quips back, mostly to make him keep laughing. It works. “But seriously. Did you know that everyone’s got a bet going on us?”

That pops his head up. “I’m sorry, a bet? I… What? Who?”

“Seems like pretty much everyone. Ruby, Mary Margaret, David, Robin, Belle… I could go on and on. A six hundred dollar pool on when we get together.”

“Typical,” Killian mutters - though Emma catches a fond note in his tone. “Who’s the lucky winner, then?”

“Ok, this is where the favor comes in.” Hopefully this isn’t a breaking point for him; Emma would hate to have this taste of them, only to have it ripped away from her. “See, Mary Margaret told me about this when she got trashed at the back to school party, and I’d had a few too and was all hopped up on righteous fury or whatever, and I kind of… put fifty dollars in the pot that we wouldn’t get together this year at all.”

Killian stares at her for a moment, and Emma’s frankly scared that he’s going to get out of bed and go - but instead, he bursts into a near-hysterical cackle. “So you want to keep this a secret until the new year, so you can win the pot?”

Emma grins, knowing she must look like the cat that ate the canary (or however that weird-ass saying goes - again, English is Killian’s thing). “Exactly. We could spend it on a weekend getaway or something.”

“I’m in, then. Under the radar.”

“It’s just two months and change,” Emma says. “It’ll speed by. How hard can it be?”

———

Turns out - their friends are determined to make it as hard as possible. Even if they don’t know it.

Things are fine, at first. In fact, nothing really changes: Emma and Killian still show up at each others’ doors most nights, and Killian comes to hang out and grade papers in her office during his free periods most days. It’s just that their evenings are now filled with kisses and touches, and those afternoons in her office with all kinds of promises of things to come. It’s thrilling, in a way, to put on the front of normality for everyone else while only they know the truth. It’s nice, too, to be able to get their feet underneath them in this relationship without so many prying eyes watching them figure it all out. 

Just because they don’t know, though, doesn’t mean their friends stop trying. There’s a bet on the line, after all, and their friends have never exactly been ones to step back and let things naturally run their course. Not for those busybodies; not with six hundred dollars and Emma and Killian’s supposed happiness on the line.

(The fact that they’re right - that the two of them really are happiest together - is irrelevant.)

David, of all people, is the first to start meddling.

“Do you guys want to get dinner?” he asks out of the blue one day - calls Emma up on her phone and everything. “You and Killian and me and Mary Margaret, I mean.”

Emma’s antenna raises immediately. “What, like a double date? C’mon, David —”

“No! No,” he says hastily - a little too hastily, Emma thinks. “No, a cousin of mine - Kris, you’ve met him - he’s opening up his own restaurant. Some place with Scandinavian food, I guess?”

“That’s actually a thing?” 

“I guess. I don’t know, he studied abroad in Norway in college. Anyways, he could use a little business, support or whatever, so Mary Margaret and I figured we’d bring some extra people along. You know, help him out. And maybe Scandinavian food is good after all.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

The line sits silent for a moment, before David breaks. “So… you in?”

And as much as Emma suspects this is all some elaborate set-up - well, it’s supposed to be to help someone else. David’s cousin, who she has in fact met and is really a good guy. And so she reluctantly agrees. “Yeah, I’m in. One of us will have to check with Killian if he’s available —”

“What, he’s not right there with you?”

(He is, his lips kiss-swollen and pulled into a delicious smirk, but that’s not the point and none of David’s business.)

“ — but yeah, I’m down.”

In the week between the call and the dinner, Emma actually finds herself starting to look forward to it. Yeah, it won’t be a real date - not with David and Mary Margaret there - but it’s still a chance to wear a pretty dress that’ll make Killian’s eyes bug a little. She’ll have to pick something he’ll have fun taking off of her later, once they’ve pretended to go back to their own homes. 

Emma’s just pulling into the parking lot, however, when her phone rings, David’s name popping up on the screen. 

“We’re not going to make it tonight,” he says without preamble, followed by the most fake-ass cough Emma’s ever heard in her life. “We’re sick.”

“Yeah, sick off your own lies,” Emma mutters. “Alright, well, I guess we’ll go another time —”

“Oh no, I insist you guys still have dinner. You and Killian deserve to have a night off!”

“David, c’mon, don’t play dumb —”

He ignores her. “Besides, you’ll be doing me - and Kris - a huge favor. I already told him to charge whatever you guys get to me. Splurge a little, have dessert and a bottle of wine. It’s all on me.”

Killian climbs out of his own car as David pleads his case, cocking his head in confusion at the no doubt frustrated look on Emma’s face. He looks like he wants to kiss it better; Emma wishes he could actually do so.

“Fine,” she caves. “If you’re sure. But I’m running up the bill.”

“You say that like it’s a surprise.”

Emma takes particular glee in ending the call. She should have seen this coming. “Looks like David has come down with a possibly fatal cough, so he and Mary Margaret aren’t coming tonight,” she tells Killian, rolling her eyes. No need to resist that particular urge.

He snorts. “Ah, liar-itis. I thought he might be coming down with a case.”

“Complicated by meddler’s cough. Don’t forget that.”

“Of course not.” He dips down to capture her lips in a gentle, lingering kiss - another urge they don’t have to resist with none of their friends around to see it. “You look lovely tonight, Swan.”

She smirks back. “I know.”

“Of course you do,” he laughs. “I’m sure you wore that just to torment me through dinner. Now, shall we?”

“We shall.” Emma slips her hand through his offered arm. “Dinner’s on David, by the way.”

“I’d expect nothing less.”

———

“So, how was dinner?” David asks the next day, his cough mysteriously cleared up. 

“Good,” Emma replies, knowing exactly what he’s digging for. “Your cousin’s got a good lingonberry cheesecake. Don’t worry, Killian and I totally ran up the bill. Kris has been well supported. You’re welcome.”

“And?” he demands.

Emma makes sure to play up her confusion. “And… what? It was a great dinner, might even go back if I ever have a date, and then I went home. Honestly, what did you expect to happen, David?”

Even through the phone, she can almost hear him audibly deflate. Something like a sigh, or perhaps the sound of his entire plan collapsing in on itself. Personally, Emma thinks it’s hilarious.

(It’s especially funny when she vividly remembers the way Killian had stripped her out of that dress, can still feel the scratch of his beard on her inner thighs.)

(But again - those are things that David doesn’t need to know.)

———

The set-ups multiply like rabbits, and Emma starts to notice her and Killian being forced into more and more situations together, just the two of them. Fuck only knows why they think these clumsy attempts will work; after all, Emma and Killian held out for 8 years of each other’s company before finally getting together (without anyone’s help, she might add). Still, 

Trivia night is a weekly tradition for them all, down at the Rabbit Hole. Some weeks, the turnout is good; sometimes, not so much. They usually meet up at someone’s house and carpool from there because there’s not a ton of parking spots outside the bar, and it’s always worked well - two, maybe three cars instead of a half dozen or more. It’s a good time, and Emma always finds herself looking forward to Thursdays. 

Tonight, they’ve met at Robin’s, Killian’s former roommate. It’s a good crowd tonight, too - Robin and his fiance Marian, Mary Margaret with David, Belle the librarian, Ruby and Mulan, even Graham and Lance and Tink. The gang’s all here, probably trying to let loose a bit before holiday obligations set in, and they’re raring to go - all twelve of them.

Emma hopes that it’s not planned - that there just happen to be two cars and then some worth of people here - but it’s more likely planned. Robin probably twisted their arms to come, just for this.

“Emma, would you mind checking the door one more time?” he calls as they congregate in the driveway. “I’m sure I locked it, but I’ve just got that niggling little feeling…”

“Sure, no problem.” And it isn’t - it’s checking the damn door. Except it’s actually winding down his stupidly picturesque front garden path to the front door, and then having to maneuver around the always-unlocked outer glass door to make sure that the real door is locked, and then maneuvering and winding and everything back… and by the time Emma makes it back, everyone’s already piled into Mary Margaret’s station wagon and Robin’s little SUV, even the middle seats everyone usually hates, leaving just the conniving man himself and Killian standing on the asphalt. 

“Sorry, looks like the two of you will be riding together,” Robin says, not seeming remotely sorry. “This is convenient anyways! I know how much time you two spend together, if you decide that it’s easier to crash together afterwards… it wouldn’t be a problem for the extra car to stay here overnight.”

“Oh, I’m sure it wouldn’t be,” Emma grumbles. “I don’t suppose you have any underlying motive here, do you Robin? Say, to the tune of six hundred dollars?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” he responds cheerily. “I just really, really want you to know that you can keep your options open. And, you know, other euphemistic things if the urge moves you.”

Asshole.

(Emma does not leave her car at Robin’s overnight - but that doesn’t stop Killian from meeting her at her place afterwards.

“This euphemistic enough for you, love?” he teases as Emma pulls at his shirt, trying to tug the cotton tee over his head.

“How’s this for a euphemism: fuck me.”

“That’s not exactly how that word works, Swan.”

“I could not possibly give fewer shits about semantics than I do right now, Killian, unless it somehow relates to you getting your pants off.”

Somehow, even in the midst of their frantic stripping, he manages to laugh. “As you wish.”

She’s always preferred straight talking anyways.)

———

“Thank god I found you both!” Mary Margaret declares, bursting into Emma’s office a little too dramatically for her tastes. Until now, she and Killian had been having a wonderful lunch together, but that’s obviously a thing of the past now. 

“That seems a little extreme for a Friday,” Killian comments mildly as he sets his cafeteria burger back down on the styrofoam tray. Personally, Emma thinks the cafeteria food is disgusting, but Killian’s got a real fondness for the cheeseburgers, and especially the french fries. No one’s perfect, she guesses. “What terrible impending tragedy can Emma or I save you from, Mary Margaret?”

“Kathryn’s father is in the hospital, so she and Fred can’t work their assigned booth at the Winter Carnival tomorrow.” Storybrooke County School District’s charity carnival is a tradition every winter - one Mary Margaret takes very seriously. Something that’s clearly about to come back and bite them all in the ass. “Would you two be able to cover tomorrow? You’d be doing me such a huge favor…”

Killian raises a single eyebrow as he turns to meet Emma’s eye - that eyebrow that always seems like a dare. “My schedule’s clear this weekend. Count me in. What do you say, Swan, think you can find room in your schedule to save Mary Margaret from the tragedy of all tragedies?”

Emma rolls her eyes at the way he’s putting it on thick, but truth be told, her only plans had been spending the day with Killian. Might as well. “Sure, what the hell,” she says, reaching for another bite of her microwave pizza. “I don’t have anything else going on.”

In retrospect, Emma realizes that Mary Margaret could have done something terrible with this - assigned them to the kissing booth or something. God, she hopes that there’s not a kissing booth at a middle school carnival, but it feels like just the kind of thing she’d pull. Thankfully, they’re set up at the ring toss game. It’s not strenuous in the least; they don’t even have to take money, just paper tickets. Really, the only questionable thing is that they’re crammed right together in the box formed between the booth walls and the counter and the table of bottles behind them. Maybe that’s something that would have bothered her a few weeks ago, back when they were Emma and Killian but not Emma and Killian. Now, it’s just an excuse to get right up in his space and enjoy all those little touches, right under everyone’s nose.

(Maybe, every time they have to duck under the counter to retrieve poorly-thrown rings, Killian takes the opportunity to steal a quick kiss while no one else can see. And maybe - just maybe - Emma uses those same opportunities to steal her own kisses right back.)

“Soooooo, how’s it going?” Mary Margaret chirps when she pops up out of nowhere mid-afternoon. It’s like she thinks she’ll find them making out in the middle of the carnival or something. Which… fair. The urge is there. But they’re professionals - and Emma wants that money, dammit. She’s not caving here.

“Just fine, Mare,” Emma replies. “Nothing worth reporting.”

“There’s not? You two are looking awfully cozy in there… nothing to report?”

“Well, you’re the one who set up the booths, so…”

“Aye, just making the best of it,” Killian helpfully adds.

Emma almost feels guilty about the way that Mary Margaret visibly deflates.

“You know this was another ridiculous set-up, right, love?” Killian asks once their friend has walked away. “She probably never even needed our help. It was all a ploy.”

“I see it now,” Emma sighs. “I had just weirdly hoped she’d be above all that bullshit.”

Killian quirks that eyebrow yet again. “Mary Margaret? Infamous meddler? Of course not. It’s cute that you thought that though, darling.”

“Oh, shut up.”

(“Mary Margaret told me to take the weekend off, that they’d over-scheduled,” Kathryn tells Emma later when she tries to ask how the other woman’s father is doing. “Was that not the case?”)

(Fucking figures.)

———

Ruby, frankly, is not a surprise. In fact, if there was one person Emma would figure would be pulling this bullshit, it’s Ruby. The girl’s too competitive for her own damn good - not to mention that mile-wide chaotic streak running through her soul.

“Pucker up!” she crows, thrusting what Emma assumes is a sprig of mistletoe over her and Killian’s heads. They’re at Ruby and Mulan’s place for… some party; it’s probably, maybe holiday themed, but Ruby’s never needed an excuse to throw a party. Anything to get them all drunk and laughing and forgetting about the stresses of the week.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Emma demands. “Ruby, don’t be stupid. This isn’t college anymore.”

“Oh, like we ever did this in college,” Ruby scoffs with that devious twinkle in her eye. “Besides, college shenanigans are a state of mind. And I’m not giving that up. Now c’mon, no weaseling out of this.”

“It is the rules,” Mulan points out, appearing to slip her arm around Ruby’s waist and drop an affectionate - if slightly tipsy - kiss on her shoulder.

“Yeah, you hear that? Smart half says it’s the rules. So go ahead and pucker up and kiss him. And then go make out for a while and maybe bone each other so I can win the pool.”

Killian blushes a little bit at the phrasing - something that’s surprisingly cute on him, knowing how often he usually tosses around the innuendoes and exactly how dirty a mouth he has when they’re alone. Before Emma knows what he’s doing, he leans in to press a gentle kiss to her cheek, and then another, smacking one for good measure. “Who are we to deny the great, determined Ruby Lucas?” he proclaims grandly. “One kiss: delivered.”

Ruby’s face gets a bit mutinous; it’s the only word for that particular storm cloud, really. “No it isn’t! That’s cheating!”

“Eh. Technically, it was a kiss.” God bless Mulan for being the only one willing to go against Ruby when she’s got a plan; perks of being the girlfriend, Emma supposes. 

“And more importantly, Rubes, that’s all you’re going to get from us.” And that’s Emma’s last word on the subject.

(“Happy Christmas, darling,” Killian whispers into her neck later once they’re back at her place, dangling his own sprig of mistletoe over their heads. “How about it? C’mon, give us a kiss.”

Emma is more than happy to comply.)

———

Emma wouldn’t say it’s common for her to get calls from the school librarian, Belle, but it’s not unusual either. So when Belle calls her up in mid-December, shortly before Christmas break, Emma doesn’t think twice about it.

“The new Scholastic catalogs are here,” Belle informs her. “I haven’t started sending them to classrooms yet, but if you want to take a look now…”

“I’ll be right there.” Yes, the catalogs are full of books for middle school students, but Emma still loves those things. They’re chock-full of nostalgia.

“I haven’t even taken them out of the box yet,” Belle explains when Emma meets her at the check-out desk. “They’re all still in the back room. Here, I’ll let you in.”

That should have been Emma’s clue here. Why would a box of new catalogs, just arrived in the mail, already be shoved into the storage closet? But Emma’s too excited about the prospect of those newsprint magazines to think about it. By the time Emma realizes there’s nothing in this little closet but printer paper and old yearbooks… Belle’s already closed and locked the door, trapping Emma inside. 

So it’s yet another set up, most likely. It’s a good thing she’s not claustrophobic, at least.

Sure enough, not five minutes later, Emma can hear Killian’s voice outside the door. 

“How many boxes did you say it was, Belle? I’m happy to help haul, but I’m just wondering if we should get a hand cart to assist.”

“Oh no, I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Belle’s voice responds. “Just a few trips for each of us. Right in here…”

And suddenly, Killian’s in the cramped little closet too, and the door is shut and latched behind them. Gee, what a surprise.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Emma comments dryly. Somehow, probably on some kind of ridiculous romantic instinct, Killian’s hands have already found their way to her hips. It’s nice, really, ignoring the circumstances.

His face is adorably confused, looking around the room and back to the door and then to Emma’s own face and all over again. “Did she just lock us in here?”

“Yeah, keep up, Jones,” Emma teases. “I assume another stupid set-up effort.”

That makes the confusion disperse alright, a smirk full of promise creeping across his face instead. “If that’s the case… we’ll just have to make the most of it.”

“Oh no you don’t,” she warns. “There’s a camera in here.”

“So? It’s not like she’s watching the monitors.”

“So, Belle recently started dating Will Scarlet in IT. You want to take the chance she locked us in here, and forgot to have her boyfriend monitor us?”

“Fuck,” Killian swears, dropping his head back in dramatic emphasis. “They’re really going overboard, aren’t they?”

“I’ll make it up to you later. I promise.”

Thirty minutes later, when Emma and Killian have done nothing but talk and try to find some little extra space in the crowded closet, Belle finally lets them out, just in time for the end of Killian’s free period.

“I’m sure you have no idea how that happened,” he comments, sarcasm dripping from every word.

“It’s just the weirdest thing,” Belle agrees.

Well, that’s one way of putting it.

(Emma makes it up to him, several times over, at her place that night, with a take-out pizza to boot.)

———

After what feels like an eternity, it’s finally here: New Year’s Eve. As long as they make it to midnight and the new year proper without anyone finding out, this whole ridiculous farce is over, and they can be the couple they’ve technically already been since October. Emma and Killian, Killian and Emma - but more than they had been before. 

They’d spent Christmas together - not that that was anything unusual. With everyone else going to visit family, the two of them often spend the day together, eating take-out Chinese and watching holiday movies. Killian’s got a brother back in England that he makes sure to call, and some years Liam will fly over, but Killian usually saves his visits for summer vacation, when he can stay in whatever little English hamlet his brother calls home for weeks at a time. There’s always something nice about spending the holidays together, just the two of them, but it was extra special this year. Who knew Emma was the kind of girl who wanted to trade kisses under the Christmas tree between swapping gifts?

(Killian, apparently - but then again, he’s always claimed to know her better than she knows herself.)

“Just a few more hours,” he murmurs against her neck, twining his arms about her waist from behind as Emma carefully brushes on mascara. “Few more hours, and then it’s all in the open.”

“Thank god for that, too. After all the PDA we’ve gotten from certain people all these years, I’m looking forward to rubbing it in their faces a bit.”

They carpool to Mary Margaret and David’s, just like they do every year. It’s routine, really; Emma always crashes at Killian’s after the annual New Year’s Eve party so that someone is there to help her with the hangover in the morning. Killian makes better hashbrowns than anyone she knows - even Granny - and they always manage to pull her out of the worst of her misery. He’s good about taking care of her, too, with water and Advil and making sure to shut all the shades as tightly as possible. They even share a bed a lot of years; it’s just that tonight, Emma knows there will be a lot fewer clothes involved.

They drink. They eat. They mingle. Sometimes, they’re together, carefully not touching, and sometimes they drift apart. That’s how this party usually works, after all - and Emma is nothing if not committed to seeing this entire thing through, pretending nothing is different this year, that she and Killian definitely aren’t together. Nothing to see here, folks.

God, she’s so fucking lucky he didn’t cut and run once it became obvious just how much of a competitive lunatic Emma is.

Finally, though, it’s the moment - less than a minute left. Killian is already waiting for her by the patio doors, just like he promised. Emma is only too happy to wind her way over there, grinning when she finally finds herself in front of her boyfriend - about to be secret no longer. Behind them, the assembled drunken crowd loudly counts down the last seconds of the year. They keep their hands determinedly to themselves - just as agreed, so no one can try and claim anything happened before the strike of the new year - but Killian still looks at her with that twinkle in his eyes and wiggling eyebrows. It’s anticipation, and excitement, and a good bit of joy - knowing that soon, this will all be out in the open. No more keeping their hands to themselves. 

“You ready for this, love?” he says just loud enough for her to hear as the clock hits ten seconds. 

“Hell yeah,” she grins back - because she is. She so is. This has been a long time coming - years in the making, really - and you know what? The whole secrecy may have helped her wrap her head around the whole thing, as well as win her the pot, but she’s ready to take it public. Maybe rub it in everyone’s faces just how happy she is and how she did this on her own schedule. Why the hell not?

Cheers erupt all around them, and Emma’s grin stretches to something that almost hurts her face. Killian looks much the same. “Happy New Year, love,” he says, finally pulling her towards him by the hips. “I think it’ll be our best one yet.”

Fireworks are going on outside, lighting up the snow on the ground, but Emma can’t be bothered to pay attention - not when Killian attacks her lips with purpose, grinning happily into the kiss before she insistently deepens it, slipping her tongue into his mouth to play. It’s just another in a series of kisses, they know - but it’s more than that. It’s a display, in the best way, declaring them them.

Emma and Killian. Killian and Emma. A pair, a unit, a couple. 

“HA!” shrieks someone across the room as their make-out finally gains attention. Emma thinks it might be Ruby - though, at this point, it might be Mary Margaret. Maybe both. It’s definitely Ruby who materializes just as Emma and Killian finally break apart with a laugh. “It’s about fucking time!”

“Yeah,” Emma agrees - something that seems to short-circuit Ruby’s brain for a moment, if that look on her face is anything to go by. “It really was. And you know what else?”

Ruby shakes her head mutely, that twist of her eyebrows demonstrating that she’s still trying to get her bearings about what the fuck is happening here.

“It’s the new year. That pot is mine.”

“That’s my girl,” Killian whispers in her ear.

Best. New Year’s. Ever.

———

On January 1st of the new year, Emma and Killian - Killian and Emma - they, them, a pair, a unit, a couple take their six hundred dollars in winnings and treat themselves to a goddamn massive lunch at Granny’s. Together. In public. Because they deserve it. 

“Killian seemed sad today, Mom.” Henry offers up to her that night as she’s tucking him into bed. And it’s no wonder her ten-year-old had noticed too. Killian, according to Henry, was the coolest person he’d ever known (besides her, of course). He never failed to show the boy all the attention Emma knew he deserved, and then some. Even with his quiet retreat behind his own apartment door after walking with them downstairs, Killian had given Henry a gentle hair ruffle and a half-hearted smile. 

She placates her son, telling him Killian is probably just missing his family on such a big holiday. And for all she knows, it could be true. In the ten months since Killian had moved in just down the hall, he hadn’t mentioned much family. Or any family, for that matter. She’s thought to ask more than a few times, but having grown up in the foster system herself, Emma knows how awkward and uncomfortable a subject it could be. 

Henry takes the reasoning easily enough. She leaves him drifting off to sleep in his bed, closing his door part of the way before she moves towards her own room. She pauses briefly in the hallway, looking behind her towards her front door. For a moment, she considers turning on her heels and heading right out that door and down the hall. 

But the standoffish look she recalls reflecting out of Killian’s eyes just before he made his leave of them stops her. 

He clearly wasn’t open for talking about whatever was wrong and Emma didn’t want to be invasive. She didn’t want to give Killian any reason to stay away. At least for Henry’s sake, or so she tells herself.

-----

A couple weeks later, Emma seriously starts to question that decision as it seems to not matter in the slightest. Killian is practically non-existent in their lives, a vast change from how it had been for months, and it’s clearly taking its toll on Henry (and maybe her too, just a little - but mostly Henry, for sure).

She’s not having it. 

So she waits until Henry is off at school before she marches her way down the hall and slams her fist against Killian’s door. It takes a few long minutes before there’s any sign of life on the other side, and Emma doesn’t even wait for him to barely have it open before she’s barging her way inside.

“Look, Jones. I don’t know what the hell I did to piss you off so much, but taking it out on Henry by avoiding him too is not even close to fair.”

The words are out of her mouth before she even has a moment to spin around and face him. It’s not until she does that the rest of her defensive mother rant dies on her lips. Not because Killian is standing there shirtless, with sweatpants hanging low on his lips, looking as if he’d just rolled out of bed to answer the door. No. It’s because he’s standing there, shirtless and looking like he’d just woken up, and it seems he’s carrying the weight of several planets on his shoulders. 

If she had thought he seemed far from his usual self-assured self back on Thanksgiving, there’s no doubt about it now.

“Killian, I-”

He smiles sadly and gestures towards his kitchen. “Would you like some coffee, Swan?”

Emma blinks at the invitation, her mouth gaping slightly. “I...uhh…” When Killian’s shoulders slump almost imperceptibly, as if he’s prepared for her hasty retreat, she hurries on. “Yeah, coffee sounds good.”

The smile on his face brightens a fraction and he gestures with his blunted left wrist towards the kitchen once again, letting her lead the way. She takes a seat on one of the stools at the bar that separates said kitchen from the small dining area, and watches him shuffle into the room across from her. 

She sits up a little straighter as she watches him freeze at the little pantry next to the fridge, just after he’s grabbed the canister of coffee from inside it. 

“Is…” He sounds hesitant, keeping his back to her. “Would tea be alright instead?” 

“Sure?” She replies in confusion. She keeps her attention focused on him as he nods erratically and snatches another canister out of the pantry. Without looking up at her, he makes his way to the counter she’s sitting at and hastily drops what she now sees is the empty coffee container there before frantically busying himself with making tea. 

While he’s got his back to her again as he sets the teapot on the stove, she takes a moment to really look around. The gloom she hadn’t picked up on when she barged in now seems impossible to ignore. The curtains are drawn tight, the only light in the whole apartment coming from the kitchen. She notes the blanket hanging haphazardly off the couch and the trash can almost full to the brim with empty beer bottles tucked away under one of the end tables. 

“You haven’t done anything.”

It comes so quietly from Killian that Emma almost doesn’t hear it. But she does and manages to turn her attention back to him in time for him to turn and face her himself. His brow is furrowed and his blue eyes look even sadder than they had when she burst through the door. 

“I.. I don’t think there’s anything in this world…” Killian starts, stops, looks away and lets out a frustrated breath, before returning his gaze to her. “I’m not the best person to be around this time of year…” Emma opens her mouth to respond, but Killian continues on quickly. “But you are right. It’s not fair to Henry. Neither he, nor you , have done anything to deserve the way I’ve treated you.” 

He licks at his lips and blinks, and then nods. “I’m sorry, Emma.”

If she hadn’t already seen how much of a struggle it was for him to get the words out to begin with, it’s the use of her name that seals it for her. “Apology accepted…” He lets out a relieved sigh and deflates some, and Emma feels a little bad to continue on… almost. She did come here for a reason, after all. “If you promise to come by tomorrow and help us decorate the ridiculous live Christmas tree David got Henry.”

Killian’s eyes widen and she notices the way his fingers twitch at his side for a moment. But some form of determination sets into his gaze and she feels a sense of victory as a ghost of his usual cocky smirk quirks his lips upward at the corner. 

“Aye, I think I can do that.”

-----

The victorious feeling stays with her as Killian holds to his promise and shows up the next night for the tree decorating. And the next night after that. And the next.

There’s still a sad cloud hanging about his head, and at times she can see him struggling to hold things together. But he’s back and he certainly does his damnedest to put a smile on for her son’s benefit. She knows a thing or two about putting on a brave face for her kid, and appreciates that Killian is willing to do the same to make the boy happy. 

The winning feeling sticks around until just two days before Christmas. She’s in her bathroom, brushing her teeth, when she hears shouting through the wall Killian and her share between their apartments. Spitting toothpaste into the sink, Emma frowns as she sets her toothbrush down and looks at the wall as if she’ll be able to see through it. 

There are two voices. One is very distinctly Killian’s, though she’s never heard him sound quite so angry before. The other is quieter, though certainly not quiet enough to not hear him at all, and she can hear the accent in his words even through the wall. Words like ‘family’ and ‘honor’, which makes Killian shout back words like ‘abandoned’ and ‘wanker’. 

Emma shuts off the sink and makes her way out of the bathroom. There’s no question in her mind this time if she should keep her distance. Something about Killian’s tone kicks warning bells off inside her, and she feels a concern almost akin to the kind reserved only for Henry set in. She slips into her comfy shoes and throws open the door, grateful that Henry is spending the evening with his friends before the holiday. 

She opens the door to step out into the hallway in time to see a man, slightly older with greying dark hair, step out into the hallway himself through Killian’s door. She freezes as she watches the man plead with who she figures is Killian through the doorway. Her assumption is confirmed when Killian’s sharp ‘Leave now, Brennan, before I make you.’ follows the pleading, before the door is slammed in the man’s face. 

Emma waits until the man sadly slinks away before exiting her apartment and making her way over to Killian’s. She stops in front of his door and raises her hand to knock, but pauses for a moment. Slamming from the other side of the door spurs her to finally tap her knuckles on the wood and she has to jump back as the door furiously swings open.

“Listen, you bloody worthless shitstain-”

Killian pulls up sharply as he takes her in, the vitriol flying from his tongue dying instantly. 

“Emma…” He practically squeaks out. 

“Hey,” She waves a little awkwardly. “I was just coming to see if everything was okay? There was…” She turns to look down the hallway in the direction the man had gone. “A lot of shouting?” She questions as she looks back to Killian in concern. 

The red on his face has only deepened, from anger to obvious embarrassment this time as he scratches at the back of his ear nervously. “Aye… that was…” Killian frowns and shakes his head. “I’m sorry, love, for the shouting. I didn’t wake you or the boy, did I?”

Emma shakes her head, frowning herself. “Henry’s not even home right now. Killian, if something is wrong-”

“It’s fine, Swan.” He offers her a grin that sets off even more warning bells inside her for how fake it clearly is. “I apologize again for the noise and I appreciate your concern, but I.. it’s…” The fake grin grows bigger. “Everything’s okay.”

Raising her eyebrows slightly in disbelief. “I heard a crash in there just now…”

“Ah, yeah…” Killian looks over his shoulder briefly to his apartment beyond and gives a dismissive shrug. “Just had a bit of a clumsy moment is all. I assure you…” He looks back at her again, that grin still firmly in place. “I’m tip-top, darling.”

His whole demeanor is throwing her off. It’s some form of his usual cocky self, only increased by a thousand. Like he’s putting on a front for her. She wishes he wouldn’t, but she’s not sure how to move past the clear impasse they are in. So instead she just stares at him for a second, eyes squinted in heavy suspicion. “If you’re sure?”

“Aye, positive.” Killian starts to ease the door closed. “I hope you have a lovely evening, Swan.”

Emma reaches out and stops him from closing it completely. “You’re still planning to come over for Christmas, right?” 

The question clearly throws him as he jolts after she’s asked it. Like the idea of doing such a thing was definitely not anywhere in the vicinity of his thoughts at that moment. “Ah… aye, of course.” 

“Killian…”

“I’ll be there.” He bites sharply and Emma can tell that anymore conversation is done for the night. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a mess to clean up.” With that, he does close the door pretty much in her face almost exactly as he had the man who had been standing there just a few minutes earlier. 

She wants to be mad at the blatant dismissal, especially when the distinct sound of the lock being turned into place fills the now quiet hallway, but all she can feel is an uneasy nausea building up in her gut. Despite his reassurances, Emma knows for a fact something is extremely wrong. And she fears that there will be far more of a mess made, both literally and figuratively, by Killian before all is said and done. 

Not for the first time in recent weeks, Emma wishes she had been more open with herself to Killian. Maybe if she’d been more honest and direct with how she was feeling about everything, past and present, he wouldn’t feel the need to hide whatever he’s clearly going through from her. 

She makes a decision, still standing in front of his shut apartment door. Tomorrow she’ll get him to talk, even if it means she’ll have to talk a little more about herself than she has before.

-----

Only Killian doesn’t really give her much of a chance to do any sort of talking the next day. She barely has much of a chance to really figure out what she’s gonna say to him anyway when she finds him standing outside her apartment door after she’d gone to get the mail.

Emma looks at him, and his bedraggled state, before shifting her attention to the hastily wrapped gifts in his hands. “Hey…”

He startles, as if shaken from a trance, and turns his head to look at her with wide, sad eyes. “Oh… I heard you leave, and I thought…” Killian trails off as Emma continues to look from his eyes to the presents and back. He swallows thickly and shakes his head, closing the distance between them quickly.

She suddenly finds the gifts thrust into her hands and she struggles to take a hold of them while also keeping a hold of the mail as well. “Killian, what…?”

“I’m sorry, Emma.” He whispers dejectedly. “I… I can’t.” He moves to scurry past her before pausing. “Wish the lad a Happy Christmas for me, will you?” 

“Killian?” Emma asks worriedly, but he doesn’t waste anymore time in making his retreat from her. She spins on her heels as he stalks down the hall towards the stairs, trying to keep the boxes and envelopes from tumbling all over the place. “Killian, wait!”

He doesn’t. And by the time Emma gets inside, drops the stuff in her arms in the entryway, and manages to try and follow after him, Killian is nowhere to be found. She’s not exactly dressed for the snowy, icy conditions outside to be able to go looking off down either side of the street, and Henry is gonna be getting home any minute. She feels like she’s failed somehow, and stands with her arms crossed tightly over her chest, shivering as more snow begins to fall and tries to keep her tears from falling along with it.

The cold drives her back a couple minutes later, and Henry is soon to follow after that. He immediately questions the gifts left by Killian, questions if everything is okay and if Killian is still coming tomorrow. Emma hates how the lie tastes coming out of her mouth when she assures her son that Killian will be there. She hates how the anger she’d barged into his apartment with those couple weeks ago can’t be mustered anymore, even in the impending wake of her son’s disappointment. 

She so desperately wants to cry, because of and for Killian. For Henry. For everything that has gone wrong lately that she can’t seem to fix. 

Instead, she holds herself together for her son on Christmas Eve, as they go through their usual traditions. The ones that were just for her and him. Henry senses her warring emotions, but doesn’t ask any further questions. Instead, he tries to make her smile as much as he can and Emma almost loses her will not to cry at just how selfless her boy is. The energy both are putting into acting like nothing is wrong clearly takes its toll on them both, and Henry is fast asleep in his bed barely past eight. 

Emma, for her part, finds herself curled up on the couch with a glass of wine in hand as she tries to make sense of the day. She really wishes she had some idea of how to get in contact with someone who knows Killian outside of their apartment complex. She briefly contemplated calling up David, but knew he wouldn’t be able to keep it from his wife, and then everyone who was anyone would know there was something wrong with Killian. 

And for as much as Emma feels like she may have done something to set Killian off, she knows gossiping about a situation she’s only sorta vaguely aware of will definitely make it worse. It’s bad enough every call she’s tried to make to him throughout the day has gone to voicemail, save one odd moment where someone picked up and all she could hear was loud background noise before the line went dead. Same with every text.

She’s just about to decide who she could get to come and watch Henry, so she can traipse out into the frigid night to see if maybe she could possibly find Killian, at one of the nearby bars or cafes when there’s a commotion out in the hallway. She’s setting her wine glass down on the coffee table and rising from the couch, as there’s a knock at her own front door. 

She makes her way towards it, frowning as an unfamiliar voice from the other side says ‘would ya stop bloody whinin’!’. Emma pulls it open to find a man she’s never met in her life with a closely cropped head of hair and an expression hovering somewhere between amused and aggravated. 

“Evenin’.” The man’s thick British accent greets her as she stares at him. “You’re Emma, right?”

“I am.” Emma replies matter of factly. 

“Bloody hell, I told you not to bother her!” 

The loud, heavily slurred voice of Killian carries through the open doorway and Emma’s out in the hallway beside the mystery man before she can hardly think about it. Her eyes go wide as she takes in the state of the man she’s just spent hours worrying about. If she thought he looked bedraggled before, it’s nothing compared to the Killian propping up the hallway wall before her. Or more like the wall was propping him up. Even from the distance between their two apartment doors, it’s evident just how completely wasted he is.

“Oh.” Is all she can say in response to the revelation.

“Aye,” The man standing next to her sighs a bit dramatically. “Right state that bastard is in, isn’t it? Told him he should’ve stopped a couple hours ago, but does the bloody git listen? And then he goes and loses his damn keys somewhere along the way…” He looks at her imploringly. “He mumbled something about his gorgeous neighbor Emma having a spare?”

Emma goes to reply, but is cut off before she can.

“Will!” Killian whines angrily from his spot against the wall and attempts to push himself off it. All he manages to do is stumble a few steps before collapsing sideways against his apartment door. 

“Bloody hell…” The man Emma assumes is Will grumbles before moving over to the struggling man and helping him stay upright. 

Emma doesn’t stay in the hallway to hear or see what happens next as she turns and darts into her apartment to grab the key Will had mentioned. She’s trying to keep herself focused on the task at hand, which is now clearly getting Killian inside his own place and sitting down, and not on the fact that he’d apparently told somebody she was ‘gorgeous.’ 

She doesn’t allow herself to think about it as she returns to the hall to help Killian inside, despite his drunken protests at her involvement. Not when she and Will are helping him to his couch, or when they are trying to figure out something to give him to sober him up a little before getting him to go to sleep. Not when Killian is suddenly stumbling to his feet and hastily ambling his way down the hall to the bathroom. Not when he’s collapsed in front of the toilet, expelling the clearly excessive amounts of alcohol he’s consumed. 

It’s only when he’s collapsed onto the tile floor, rambling drunkenly, that Emma really allows it to sink in. Really allows the past several months, ever since he first charmed his way past her defenses, to really settle into the very heart of her.

“I didn’t want this,” Killian is crying softly into the towel Will had placed under his head. “I didn’t want her to see what a mess of a person I am, Will.” It seems he had forgotten she was also with them in the room. Or maybe it didn’t really matter at that point, the booze and the sickness taking its full toll on him. “She’s so amazing and her son is just… brilliant and I’m… Not. I’m just not.”

“Mate,” Will sighs sadly. He reaches out to give Killian’s shoulder a comforting squeeze.

Killian brushes it off angrily and struggles into a sitting position, flopping back against the bathroom wall. “No! It’s true! I’m just a fuckup like him. I run away when something gets too bloody good. And then come back like the damn useless mess that I am just to screw it all up! Just like Brennan! Just like... my father.” 

The last part comes out as a full sob and Killian pulls his knees up to his chest and buries his face in his arms as he starts to cry in earnest. And even before she can take in the pleading look Will starts to give her, Emma is moving him out of the way so she can take up the spot right next to Killian. She slides down onto the floor and pulls the shattered man sideways until his head is resting in her lap. 

He continues to cry from his new position resting against her, and Emma lets him. She sits and runs her hand through his hair, as he works through whatever heartbreak has been building up inside him. She doesn’t try to argue with what he said, all of which is untrue even if she doesn’t know the full circumstances of what brought Killian to such a state. Not yet, at least. She waits until he is ready to tell her everything. 

Which comes early the next morning, after Will has helped get Killian over to Emma’s apartment before taking his leave, and Killian’s gotten a couple hours of sleep in an actual bed. He’s still a bit on the worse side of drunk, but there is definitely a clarity to his words as he tells her about his life before she came into it. About the loss of his mother and the father who had left him and his older brother to fend for themselves afterwards. About Liam stepping up and taking care of Killian for most of his life, before a tragic Naval accident had taken him and Killian’s left hand in one fell swoop just two days before Christmas some years past. 

“I was in… a terrible place.” Killian mumbles from where he is laying on his side in her bed facing him. He chuckles a little drunkenly and shakes his head. “Still clearly am. But a friend of Liam’s got a hold of me last year and decided I needed to make a change for myself.”

“David?” Emma asks quietly. 

Killian chuckles again and nods this time. “Aye, dear Dave. Told me there was a new spare apartment and that they were looking for a new harbormaster here in town. I… I didn’t want to take him on the offer, but honestly, I was drowning back in England and needed a change. I didn’t think…” He pauses and searches her eyes, a look of admiration shining there for. “I’m so sorry, Emma. I never intended for this all to come out… like it has.”

“What, that you have feelings for me and think I’m gorgeous?” She kept her voice void of any sort of emotion on how the question and whatever his answer might make her feel.

“Aye.” He sighs and closes his eyes. “All of that. I didn’t…” His eyes open again and it seems he’s settled on something in his mind quietly. “I apologize for any discomfort my rum-fueled words have caused and when I’m soberer,” He winces and makes a face. “I’ll take my leave of you and keep my distance so you don’t-”

Emma stops him by leaning in and planting a kiss on his lips. He tastes like toothpaste-laced rum and makes a noise of surprise, but doesn’t pull away. Instead, he reaches out and draws her closer with a gentle hand to the back of her head. She hates to ruin the moment by pulling away, but Emma does a few moments later.

“I haven’t been worried nearly sick about you for weeks just for you to disappear right when I’ve decided I have feelings for you too.” She tells him seriously, her gaze intently focused on his still shocked one.

He blinks at her owlishly, mouth still slightly agape from the kiss and from wonder. “I… Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” Emma reaches up and brushes the bangs back from his head. “Now we can lay here and you can keep talking if you want. Or we can get a little more sleep before Henry decides to get up and start Christmas, and we can have a good day, and get back to the personal shit later. Because trust me, Jones, if you think you have baggage…”

Killian takes her hand and gives it a light squeeze. “It’d be an honor to take on yours as well.” At Emma’s raised eyebrow, he frowns. “That came out.... I’m still rather... I think more sleep is probably wise.” He finishes with a sage nod.

Emma nods along after him. “Yeah, me too.”

Licking his lips, Killian nods again and as he shifts to settle into a more comfortable position for sleep, Emma moves herself into his space. His blunted left wrist comes to rest over her hip and he lets out a sigh that smells like rum just over her head. 

She waits a few moments as his breathing evens out. “Hey Killian?”

“Aye?” He mumbles sleepily. 

“I think you’re pretty gorgeous too.”

He presses a kiss into her hair and the smile she feels from him as he settles back in is the first real one Emma has gotten out of him since Thanksgiving. 

  Because the Land without Magic isn’t really all that puzzling.  Or at least this portion of it isn’t.  

The currency is entirely self explanatory and makes perfect sense.  It’s in sensible parts of ten, all of which fit into each other.  Anyone who’s ever been forced to accommodate doubloons and cringlets and half-rafters (which aren’t actually half of anything ) could be nothing but pleased at this perfect decimal fractioning.   

The food is not so different or unusual and none of it seems to require knowledge of poisons or side effects.  

There are shops for everything, labels for everything, warnings for everything.

And there are instruction manuals for everything.  A fact which not enough people take advantage of, as far as Killian is concerned.  When he reset the oven clock in Snow’s kitchen a few weeks ago, because it was an entire hour ahead and he simply could not bear this gross inaccuracy a moment longer, Emma had looked at him with eyes as big as saucers when she noticed and said, in an incredibly earnest voice, “How did you do that?  Nobody sets oven clocks.”  She’d shaken her head for good measure.  “I’m serious.  Nobody.”

So, all in all, in its customs and habits and workings, this land is not nearly as intricate or complicated as many other realms he has been to.  Like the Sylvexh Empire, where looking directly at any of the citizens could cost you your head, or Lirsom’bhar, where talking during theater performances carried the death penalty and wearing black clothing was a stoning offense.  He’d hated the latter.  Pirate captains are not nearly intimidating enough in powder blue.

  So the questions he has aren’t with this realm, and certainly not about Christmas.

No, what he has a hard time gauging is where he stands with Emma’s family.  Specifically the woman currently sitting in front of him, wiping maple syrup from the corners of her mouth.  And her husband.

Also known as Emma’s parents, who may or may not have very firm opinions on whether or not Killian is allowed to join in the various festivities.

That is his problem.

Because if it were up to Killian he would like to spend pretty much every waking moment with Emma.  Including those moments she spends at the loft with Snow and David and Henry doing family things.  Like baking cookies.

Emma has mentioned the baking plans.  But that’s the thing, she only mentioned them.  He doesn’t know if he’s invited.  

He doesn’t know if he’s welcome.

  “Killian?”  His face must be mirroring some of his thoughts.  Snow looks a little worried.  “Are you all right?  Do you not like cookies?”

Yes he does.  He loves cookies.  This land’s prowess in all things chocolate is unparalleled.

He tries to reassure Snow with a grin.  

“I do,” he says.  “I just didn’t---”  The way she looks at him.  Open.  Inviting.  It’s almost painful.  “---know what time you wanted to commence the revelry,” he finishes lamely.

“Around five,” Snow says.  “Henry’s at Regina’s tonight, so the ‘revelry’ will be all grown up.  Just come on down, you don’t need to bring anything.”

  Yes, well.

He knows enough about the customs in every realm he’s ever traveled to that when you’re invited to somebody’s house, you bring a present.  Even when they tell you not to.

He spends most of the day down by the harbor, just breathing the salty air, listening to the seagulls, and then shows up at the loft at 5 PM on the dot,  holding a bottle.

When Emma opens the door he goes to hug her, long and tight, because he hasn’t seen her all day. 

“Hey,” she says in that soft voice she only uses with him, and hugs him back just as tightly.  “I missed you today.”

So has he.

Missed her terribly.

She kisses him slowly until David behind them clears his throat very loudly, and Emma rolls her eyes and grins.  

“I’m glad you’re here,” she says, and he’s so relieved to hear her say that.  For tonight at least, he is welcome.  

He nods at David who watches him with narrowed eyes and then hands the bottle to Snow, who can roll her eyes better than even her daughter can.

“Killian, I said not to bring any---”  Snow’s voice cuts out all at once and her jaw drops.  “David,” she whispers.  “David, look at this.”

Emma looks at Killian in question, but he just smiles at her and points his chin at Snow.  At Snow who is now staring at Killian while holding the bottle out to David.

“Killian,” she says.  “How?”

“Had a few bottles left on the Jolly ,” he says.  He can feel Emma next to him tense up, just like she always does when he mentions his ship.  He wants to tell her not to worry, that he doesn’t regret trading his vessel, not for a moment.  He smiles at her instead and says, “I took them to my room at Granny’s  back when I---”  

He stops himself.  There were dark nights full of rum and despair back then, more of them than he cares to admit or remember, and they do not belong in this brightly-lit living room.

“Anyway, I never could bring myself to drink them,” he says instead.  Couldn’t bring myself to sever the last line to a life I thought I wanted , he doesn’t say.  “And I thought you might like one.”

“Is this what I think it is?”  David says, his voice unsteady, and Snow nods.

“It’s our wine,” she says, and--- are there tears in her eyes?  She looks at Emma.  “It’s our coronation wine.  I never---  I----”

A sob cuts her off and David wraps his arms around her and looks at Killian and for this one, brief moment, Killian knows David approves.  He’ll take it.

*

Snow looks over David’s shoulder at Killian.  Sees how his posture relaxes a bit after David nods at him, sees how it relaxes even more as Emma leans into him and he pulls her close, buries his nose in her hair.  Emma smiles, a soft, lovely, contented smile and in that moment Snow can actually see how much they belong together.  

See how perfectly they fit.

How genuinely happy he makes her.

With Emma, Killian is not just a pirate and with Killian, Emma is more than the Savior.  Even when he still looks so unsure—and he does look unsure.  He looks like he’s afraid to breathe wrong.

Snow is going to have to have a very stern word with her husband about making pirates feel welcome in their lives.

  Then she wipes her eyes and shakes her head.  

“That’s quite enough of that,” she says, as if she weren’t the one crying, and extricates herself from David.  Who grins at her and then winks, because he knows her.  Damn him.

“Cookies,” Snow says firmly, and then looks at Killian, still holding on to Emma.  

“Why don’t you take your jacket off?”  She says gently.  “Make yourself at home?”

If only she could make him realize how much she means that.  

“OK,” she goes on, facing three pairs of expectant eyes across the counter.  “Let’s see what we got.  It’s not like we really know about Christmas---” she nods at Emma and Killian--- “you guys know much more about it.  But we did have Saturnalia back in the Enchanted Forest, and you know---”

Her voice trails off as she watches David’s grin grow wicked.

“What your mother is trying to say,” David says, rolling his eyes, “is that in the last two years she has discovered that in this land, throughout the month of December, there are a lot of movies on television which she’s rather fond of.”

Emma’s jaw drops.  “Oh god, Mom.”  She actually shudders.  “Don’t tell me you’ve discovered Hallmark.”

Snow can feel herself starting to blush.  She doesn’t quite know what’s gotten into her either.  It’s as if these stories thrum a primal chord deep inside her.  

Well, some of them do.

Emma leans forward, her eyes narrow.  “You’re a bandit .”  Oh, the accusation with which her daughter can front-load a word.  For a very brief moment Snow feels exceptionally sorry for Killian for when he makes his first real mistake.  

“I am a bandit who can appreciate pretty decorations and a message of hope and good cheer,” she says, and it comes out sounding rather defensive.

Killian smiles and once again pulls Emma close.  

“I think your mother deserves to like whatever she chooses,” he whispers into her ear. 

Emma shakes her head, but then she grins and Snow raises a stern eyebrow.  

“I also like a good reason to eat sweets,” she says.  “And this holiday seems to be built on treats.  It’s like the official month of sugar and spice.” 

She puts her hand on her hips and everyone bursts out laughing.

So far so good.

*

“I don’t really have any traditions,” Emma says with an air of nonchalance so perfect it has to be practised.  “Christmas is not exactly a big deal.”

  Killian’s heart constricts.

He doesn’t really know that much about this holiday, despite what Snow says, but he remembers the children Pan snatched in December, remembers how they cried more and longer and harder at the thought of what they had lost.  

Without fail the December children turned into Pan’s most ruthless minions after they got over their pain and anguish, every last one of them callous and brutal and crueler than the rest of them.

As if their emotional connection to humanity had been severed more completely than any of the others’, as if their heartache had been too great to bear and instead turned on them, burned away every last shred of empathy and compassion and kindness.

Christmas had clearly meant something to them once.

Judging by Emma’s tone, Christmas has never meant anything to her at all, and somehow that seems worse.  Not the holiday itself, he couldn’t care less about that.  The fact that Emma has never let herself put down enough roots to have traditions.

To make something last.

He remembers his mother making mulled boysenberry wine and sugar buns for the winter solstice, remembers their cabin smelling sweet and wonderful, remembers their father smiling often, at her and at Liam and even at him.  

  “That’s a shame,” he says softly, trying not to put too much pressure on this point.  “It’s nice to have some things you love, that you can remember fondly and share with your own.”

David scoffs.  “And what would you know about it?  Aren’t your traditions basically just pillage and plunder? ”

It stings.

A lot.

From out of the corner of his eye he can see Snow slap David’s arm, hard.  Can see David wince.

“Ignore him,” she says, and smiles warmly at Killian.  “We used to have a feast for winter solstice at the palace.  My father used to send envoys out every fall, to gather the most exotic, extravagant ingredients.  I remember the first time I had oranges.”  Her voice grows wistful.  “The whole town celebrated - there were tables out in the open everywhere.  People used to come from far away, gather in the streets, celebrate together. We had fires going and blankets and mulled wine.  It lasted two days.”

“I remember,” David said.  “I went once or twice when I was a boy.  I loved it.  Ate until I dropped.”

“That’s kind of why I like this Christmas thing,” Snow says.  “I like the notion of lots of food and the smell of fresh sap and candles and cider.  It reminds me of home.”

“That sounds really nice,” Emma says, but it’s perfunctory.  Killian looks at her, smiling but not moved, and he walks over and wraps his arms around her.

“Maybe you and I can go look at the stars later,” he says.  “Take some hot chocolate and a blanket down to the docks.”

It’s a shot in the dark, but Emma’s arms tighten around his waist and he knows he’s said the right thing.  Or at the very least not a wrong thing.

  David looks at him sharply.  “As long as you don’t spike it with rum and have your wicked---”

“DAVID.”  Snow’s voice is pure flint and he actually flinches.

“ Seriously. ”  Emma adds and then kisses Killian in full view of her parents.  Thoroughly.  

He closes his eyes, feels her hand fist into his hair, feels her back arch against him and blocks out everything but the taste of her.

The warmth of her body, the softness of her skin.

He does not want to let go of her, not ever.

When she pulls back he is breathless and she puts her forehead against his, smiles and gently rubs his neck and he no longer cares who’s watching.  There’s no one else on the planet at this moment.  There are just the two of them.

  Killian sighs when Emma finally straightens up, sighs and turns and blushes, walks over to the counter and blindly grabs for his bowl and whisk, just to have something to do.  Something useful to do which will avoid David’s steely gaze for the moment.

  Emma turns to Snow to ask what temperature the oven should be, and David keeps staring at him, daring him to look up, which he absolutely will not, thankyouverymuch, and then the bowl he’s been holding, barely, with the tip of his hook while he whisks with his right, shoots out from under his grasp and catapults along the counter before slowly somersaulting in a flying leap to the floor.  Splattering egg whites and creamed butter and milk everywhere .  Most of it on his pants.  His black pants.

Fuck.

But then Emma laughs out loud and he’d gladly drop a hundred bowls of batter on himself if that is the reaction.

“That was a solid 10,” she says when she can breathe again, and takes the whisk from him.  “It stuck the landing.  Literally.”  She points at the sticky puddle at their feet.  “I got the bowl.  Go get cleaned up.”

She takes his hook and starts to push him towards the bathroom and he can see it, can see the moment it happens, the moment her face falls, her smile vanishes, and she looks down at his hook, the hook which couldn’t hold the bowl, and then back up at his face, her eyes large and worried.

“Don’t,” he says before she can open her mouth.  “It had nothing to do with this.”  He points his chin at his hook.  “Trust me when I tell you I’ve done more complicated things than hold dishes in place.”

She takes a deep breath and then exhales and bites her lip.

“Sorry,” she says.  

“There is nothing you should be sorry for, love,” he says, and she nods again, and this time he knows she believes him.

“We can take some cookies with us later,” she whispers.  “When we go look at the stars.”  And then she grins.  “Unless you plan on wearing them all.”

*

An hour later the place smells delicious, everyone is covered in flour, and it has started to snow.

“I think you should shovel the walkway,” Snow says to David, and he turns to her, full of righteous indignation at being sent outside, and then he sees her face.

“Am I in trouble?”  

Snow looks at Emma and Killian on the couch, Emma curled into his side, and Killian stiff as a board except for the arm around her daughter’s shoulders.

Then she looks back at her husband.

“I think we’ve had enough of the overprotective father for one night,” she says.  “Your daughter is an adult.  An adult we sent through a wardrobe into an unknown land by herself when she was a baby, so I don’t think we’re entitled to put the thumb screws to anyone.”

She can see her words hit home when David starts to duck his head, but she remains firm.

“So I think it’s your turn to cool off outside and a bit of exercise is just the thing to do it.”  She glares at her husband for good measure.  “I strongly suggest you use the time to think.”

David nods, chagrined, and simply goes to grab his jacket, and Snow puts on coffee.

  “Hey,” she hears Emma say.  “Please relax.  He likes you.  He just doesn’t know how to show it.”

Killian shrugs and Snow walks over to them, sits down in her favorite overstuffed chair and pats Killian’s arm.

“David’s making up for lost time,” she says.  “He never got to put the fear of the Evil Queen into teenage boys, and he’s taking it out on you.”

“That’s not Killian’s fault,” Emma says, claws showing a bit, and Snow smiles.  Her daughter likes the pirate a lot more than she’s trying to let on.

“Give him time,” she says.  “He’s trying.  And not everyone can be as naturally cool as I am.”

Emma and Killian look at her for a long beat before they both burst out laughing.

“True,” Emma says, wiping her eyes.  “You definitely are the cool parent.  Even if you have horrible taste in movies.”

  The oven timer dings and Snow gets up.  She takes the baking sheet out of the oven and watches Killian once again relax, sink into Emma the same way she melts against him, watches her put her head against his chest and his arm tighten around her.  Their body language is in beautiful sync, two pieces working in perfect harmony, and it makes her happy.

She knows the signs of True Love.

  “Here,” she says and walks over to them to hand them a small basket.  

“What is this?”  Emma hardly looks up, sighing into Killian’s chest.

Killian smiles at Snow and then bends down to kiss Emma’s temple.  

“It’s our stargazing picnic,” he says softly.  “Cookies and--- is that hot chocolate?”

“It is.”  Snow nods.  “Hot chocolate with cinnamon, to be exact.  And rum.”  She winks at them.  “And a warm blanket.”

Emma sits up and grins.  

“Yeah,” she says.  “You’re definitely the cool parent.”

*

Two people sit at the end of a wooden pier, wrapped up in each other and a warm blanket, listening to the water and looking at the stars.

The man hands the woman a thermos cup and then drops small kisses to her jaw as she drinks and then snuggles into his chest, smiling and warm and so, so content.

“We should do this every year,” she says, and the man nods, his eyes soft and fond and full of love.

“It’ll be our tradition,” he says, and then he kisses her again.

.

“Killian, Emma has been here a total of three minutes and you’re already hitting on her. Give it a rest,” Elsa playfully admonished. She flashed an apologetic smile at her friend. “Dinner isn’t quite ready yet. Do you want to keep me company in the kitchen?”

“Got any wine in there?” Emma asked. 

“Of course.” 

“Then yes, I will keep you company.” She strode past Killian, throwing in a wink for good measure, which he tried, and failed, to return. 

The two brothers headed to the living room to watch and fight over a football game. Emma followed Elsa into the kitchen and got two wine glasses out of the cupboard. 

“Smells fantastic! What are you making?” Emma asked as she stuck her head in the refrigerator to check out the wine options. 

“Chicken Cordon Bleu with roasted carrots and garlic mashed potatoes,” Elsa answered. 

“Mmmm. Chardonnay then?” 

“Of course! So how have you been, Ems?”

“Eh, not bad. Business has been good since it’s getting close to Christmas, so I can’t complain about that.” Emma was the assistant manager at a combination bookstore, coffee shop and bakery which was owned by their friends Mary Margaret and David. “I will complain about the weather, though. Who needs this much snow when it’s only the beginning of December?”

“Better get used to it. Sounds like we’re in for quite a bit of it this winter. They’re calling for several inches tonight. I hope you’ll be able to get home. If not, you’re welcome to stay here overnight.” 

“Thanks, but I’m sure I can trust Old Faithful out there,” Emma said, referring to her vintage Volkswagen Beetle. 

Elsa scoffed. “I think you’re the only one who thinks that car is reliable.”

“You should know by now not to insult my car.” Emma sat down at the counter and took a sip of wine. “How long is Killian staying?” she asked, trying to sound nonchalant. 

“For the rest of his life,” her friend said smugly.

Emma nearly choked on her wine. “Huh? What do you mean by that?”

“He’s decided that he wants to move here to be closer to his family. There’s really nothing left for him in Ireland, and Liam put in a good word for him at the lumber yard. He’s going to be in charge of the hardware department now that Leroy has retired.”

“Oh, well, that’s good, I guess.”

“Yes it is. Liam is very happy about it. Moving away from his brother was so difficult for him, especially since Killian was all alone after Liam came here to live.”

“I’m sure he didn’t lack female companionship,” Emma said under her breath, but apparently not quietly enough for Elsa not to hear. 

She turned to look sternly at her friend. “That’s not fair, Emma. You don’t know Killian like I do. He’s really quite shy and introverted. That flirtiness and arrogance is just a front to cover up his insecurities.”

Emma looked chagrined. “I would never have guessed that, but I don’t understand why he thinks he has to put on an act. I’d rather hear a guy admit he’s shy instead of acting like he’s a womanizer.”

“Have you ever seen him flirt with anyone besides you?” Elsa asked pointedly. 

“Uh, can’t say I ever have, I guess” her friend mumbled, while her cheeks filled with color. 

“Yeah, well, maybe there’s a reason for that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“How long until everything is ready, Sweetheart?” Liam asked, entering the room and striding across it to peek over his wife’s shoulder. “And what can I do to help?”

“It’s almost finished. Can you mash the potatoes?”

“Absolutely!” He crouched down in front of a cupboard to pull out the hand mixer, and Emma gave Elsa a look over his head that told her their conversation wasn’t over yet. 

*********

Dinner was delicious, and everyone enjoyed talking and laughing about a variety of subjects. When Liam got up from the table to get the dessert, he looked out the window and gave a low whistle “The snow is really piling up out there. Looks like we’ve gotten at least another three inches and it’s still coming down.”

“Maybe I should go,” Emma said, troubling her lip between her teeth. 

Before anyone could answer, Elsa’s phone began to ring. She picked it up and glanced at it. “Sorry, I’ve got to take this. It’s Anna.” She took the phone into another room, but they could hear the concern in her voice as she talked to her sister. 

Liam was just beginning to dish out the apple crisp when Elsa came hurrying back into the room with a look of panic on her face. 

“Anna’s gone into labor and Kris is out on the road! He’s trying to get back as fast as he can, but he’s three states away. I told her to call for the rescue squad to take her to the hospital and we’ll get there as quickly as possible. Is that okay, Liam?”

Her husband dropped the spoon he was holding. “Of course it is! Go pack a bag and I’ll pull the truck out…”

“I’ll do that, brother! You and Elsa get ready to go.”

“I’ll move my car out of the way, then help Killian clean everything up before I take off,” Emma stated, grabbing her coat and pulling it on, while yanking her keys out of the pocket. 

Everyone shot off to make preparations for Elsa and Liam’s departure. 

Emma coaxed her bug to life and threw it into reverse, backing it out of the driveway so quickly that she didn’t see the large snowdrift on the street behind her until it stopped her progress. “Dammit!” she exclaimed, shifting into drive, but her fears were realized when the tires spun fruitlessly and the little car stayed put. 

She groaned and looked up to see that Killian had Liam’s black four-wheel-drive truck moved into the spot she had just vacated. She gritted her teeth and got out of her car. “I’m stuck!” she called to him. “Can you help push me out?”

Killian surveyed the situation, then scanned the street. “It won’t do any good, Swan. You’re not going anywhere in that car. I’m a little worried about Liam trying to drive in this mess with his truck.”

Emma heaved a sigh and decided it was pointless to argue. She hated to admit it, but she knew he was right. Reaching back into the little car, she turned it off and removed the keys from the ignition. Then she slammed the door and slogged up the driveway. 

Just as Emma and Killian stepped back inside the house, Elsa and Liam emerged from their bedroom with overnight bags slung over their shoulders. Emma saw how drawn with worry her friend’s face looked and her heart went out to her. 

“I checked to make sure there are emergency supplies in the truck in case you run into trouble,” Killian told his brother. “I put a couple extra blankets and some bottles of water behind the seat.”

Emma was impressed. She would have never thought of doing that. She didn’t even keep supplies like that in her own car, and it was far less reliable than Liam’s pickup truck. 

“Thanks, brother. Our phone chargers are in the console, so we should be good to go.”

Emma pulled Elsa into a hug. “Everything will be fine, Els. You guys be careful, and don’t worry about anything here. Killian and I will take care of it.”

“Don’t try to drive that car of yours home, Ems. I can’t be worrying about you on top of everything else.” 

“It’s stuck in a snowdrift right now. I was gonna ask if I could borrow your car to drive home.”

“Her car is terrible in snow, Emma,” Liam cut in. “We’ve already started looking for a different one, but for now, just stay put.”

Elsa’s phone buzzed and she took a quick look. “Anna’s at the hospital. We need to get on the road, Sweetheart.” She hugged Killian tightly. “Thanks for your help, Kil. We’ll keep you guys updated. Love you.”

“Love you, too. Both of you,” he added, glancing over at his brother. “Drive carefully.”

Emma and Killian walked out on the porch to see them off, then went back into the warmth of the house once the truck turned the corner at the end of the street. 

“How long does it take to get to Anna’s from here?” Emma asked through chattering teeth. 

“About three-and-a-half hours under ideal conditions, so I’d say at least four or more today. You’re shivering, Swan. Why don’t you go into the living room and get under a blanket.”

“No, I’m fine. Let’s get the kitchen cleaned up.” 

She pulled off her boots and tossed her coat onto the rack beside the door. Killian set his boots beside hers on the rug, and followed her into the kitchen. 

They worked together silently, each lost in their own thoughts about the harrowing trip Elsa and Liam were making through the snow that was still falling steadily outside the window. 

“Do you want your apple crisp now?” Emma asked, picking up the bowls that Liam had been getting ready to serve before he had to leave so abruptly. 

“Maybe later. I seem to recall that you are partial to hot chocolate. Perhaps we can have some with our dessert in a little while?”

“Sure, sounds good.” She wiped a dishcloth over the table, then looked around the kitchen. “I think that’s it. Now what?”

“Liam and Elsa have the Disney Plus package, so we have access to plenty of movies and shows. What do you say we take advantage of it?”

“Okay, but I get to choose. I’m the guest, after all.” 

“Technically we’re both guests, Love.”

“Actually, Elsa tells me you’re going to be a permanent resident here.”

Killian scratched behind his ear. “Aye. I’ll be staying here at the house until I find a place of my own, then I’ll have to make one more trip back to Ireland to get my belongings sent over. They’re in storage for now.”

“It will be nice having you around. I...I mean...I’m sure Liam and Elsa think it will be.” She could feel her cheeks heating. 

“Are you saying that you’re glad you’ll be seeing more of me, Swan?” he smirked.

Emma rolled her eyes. 

“Play your cards right, and you might be able to see a LOT more of me!”

“In your dreams, Buddy,” she mumbled. 

“Perhaps you are, Darling,” he quipped. 

“Look, just hand me the remote and stop being Captain Innuendo, please.”

Killian smirked again and gave her the device. She flipped through the options and selected “Mandalorian”.  

“I didn’t picture you as a Star Wars fan, Love.”

“I’m not, really. I just like Baby Yoda.”

“Ah, of course!”

They settled into opposite corners of the sofa and began to watch the episode. After about fifteen minutes, Emma’s phone vibrated in her hand and she unlocked it to read the text. 

“Elsa says the roads are tricky but Liam is being cautious. Anna is progressing slowly and they should be able to get there before the baby is born. Hopefully Kris will be able to, also.” 

“I hope so. Every father should be there when their child is born.”

Emma realized that what he said had an underlying meaning. His own father had left while his mother was still pregnant with him, claiming he didn’t want to be tied down with a wife and two children. Elsa had once told her that Killian felt like it was his fault his father had abandoned the family. 

Killian got up from the couch and stretched. “Can you pause it, Swan? Nature calls.”

Just as she heard the bathroom door close, the lights started flickering. “No, no, no, no, no!” she chanted. Suddenly, everything shut down and the room was plunged into darkness.

“Bloody hell!” she heard Killian exclaim. 

Emma brought up the flashlight app on her phone and turned it on. She carefully made her way over to the window to see if anyone else in the neighborhood had lights, and what she saw caused her heart to sink. Not only were all the surrounding houses dark, but all the street lights were out as well. 

She heard a crash coming from the bathroom and quickly headed in that direction. “Are you alright?” she called through the door. 

“I am at the moment, but I might not be once Elsa finds out I broke her magnifying mirror.” The door opened and he squinted when the light from Emma’s phone shone right into his eyes. 

“You broke a mirror? You do know that’s seven years bad luck, don’t you?”

“It’s only cracked.” 

“Three-and-a-half years then.”

Killian chuckled. 

“I hate to tell you, but it looks like the power is out everywhere,” Emma told him, and he groaned. “Hopefully it will come back on soon.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it, Love. My guess is the weight of the snow brought some power lines down, which means utility workers will have to go out in this mess and try to restore it.”

Emma threw her head back dramatically. “Fantastic! So now what do we do?”

“Well, there’s no need to be antsy. We have our wits, we just have to focus on being constructive. What’s the battery percentage on your phone?”

“Seventy-seven percent,” she reported, after checking her screen. 

“I left mine on the coffee table. Shine your light over there, would you please?”

She did as asked and he crossed the room. “Mine’s at ninety-four. Elsa has been checking in with you, so try to conserve your battery. Do you have it on low-power mode?”

“I do now. Oh wait! I have a portable battery charger in my purse. I think it’s fully charged, too.”

“Excellent! We should be all set with our phones then. Now we need some light sources. Do you know if Elsa has any candles or flashlights?”

“Um, I’m not sure about flashlights, but I’ll bet she has candles. She always had them burning in our apartment at college. Let me look around.”

“I’m going to go round up all the blankets in the house since it won’t take long for the temperature to drop in here. Do you want me to grab a sweatshirt for you?”

“Thanks, but I’ll raid Elsa’s closet myself. I’d like to get into something more comfortable than these jeans, and I need some warm socks. Do you think we should tell Liam and Elsa what’s going on?”

Killian considered her question for a moment. “No, they have enough on their minds. We can handle this ourselves without worrying them about it.”

Emma nodded her agreement. “Okay, meet you back here in a few minutes then. I assume you want to stay in the living room?”

“Actually, my bed is pretty comfortable. We’ll probably need to combine our body heat, don’t you think, Swan?” The exaggerated eye roll he got for that remark made him laugh out loud. “Aye, meet you back here, Love.”

When he returned loaded down with numerous blankets and quilts, he found several lit candles placed around the room, but Emma wasn’t there. He assumed she was changing into warmer clothes. 

Just as he was unfolding the blankets, he heard her re-enter the room. “I’m gonna have my dessert now. Do you want yours?” she asked. 

He looked up and saw that she was now in fleece pajama pants and a hoodie, with thick, fuzzy socks on her feet. 

“Sure. We can bring it in here where all the candles are so we at least have some light.”

“Too bad we can’t have our hot chocolate.”

“Why can’t we? They have a gas stove. I’ll light the burner for you.”  

“I can get it.”

“No, Swan. I’ll take care of it.”

“So now you’re gonna be a gentleman?”

“I’m always a gentleman.”

Emma scoffed, but followed him into the kitchen. By the time she’d gotten out the milk, sugar and cocoa, he had the burner lit and was leaving the room to flip off all the light switches that he knew had been on before the power went out. 

She was stirring the heating liquid when he returned. “Something smells delicious,” he commented. 

“Homemade hot chocolate is always the best. Can you get the cinnamon out, please?”

He gave her a quizzical look, but went to the spice cupboard. After setting out two mugs, he handed her the cinnamon. “What are you doing with this?”

“Putting it on my cocoa. Ever tried it?”

“Can’t say that I have.”

“Would you like to?”

“Why not? I’d like to think you and I have a taste for similar things, and I’m not just talking about cocoa,” he commented, attempting to wink. 

“Seriously, can you not go ten minutes without making suggestive remarks?” she asked sharply.  

The grin faded from his face. “I’m sorry, Emma. I’ll just, um, I’ll just take these bowls into the living room.” He stuck a spoon into each dish of apple crisp and walked through the doorway. 

After he left the room, Emma sighed. She hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings, but she was sure that she had. 

When she carried the steaming mugs into the other room a few minutes later, he was standing at the window, shining the light from his phone outside. 

“Is it letting up at all?” she asked.

“It’s hard to tell if new snow is falling, or if the wind is just blowing around what’s already fallen. Some of the drifts look to be about four feet high. Oh, your phone was buzzing a minute ago.”

“Thanks.” She set the mugs on the coffee table and picked up her device. “Text from Elsa. She said they seem to have driven out of the worst of the snow, and they’re able to go a little faster. Kris hasn’t run into any bad weather, so he’s making good time.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“Listen, Killian, I’m sorry about what I said in the kitchen…”

“No, Emma, you’ve no reason to apologize. You’re right, I really shouldn’t speak to you that way. It’s just...I don’t know...you make me a bit nervous and I respond by making innuendos. From now on, I’ll make an effort to stop.”

“Why do I make you nervous?”

Killian scratched behind his ear. “Because actually, I quite fancy you from time to time, when you’re not yelling at me.” 

She noticed that he was looking down to avoid making eye contact with her. Taking a deep breath, she decided to return the favor of his honesty. “You’re, uh, you’re not so bad yourself, and maybe I feel the same.” 

His eyes shot up along with his eyebrows. “Really?”

She shrugged. “I guess you’ve...grown on me a bit.” 

“Well, I tend to have that effect on people.” 

“All right, don’t push it.”

He grinned, then motioned to the sofa. “Shall we?” 

They consumed their dessert in relative silence, then sat sipping their drinks. “Do you think we need to do anything in case the electricity is off for a long while?” Emma asked. 

Killian stretched his arm above his head, then dropped it down to scratch the back of his head. “I think we need to close off all the other rooms besides the bathrooms to keep the heat in one area as much as possible. We can just camp out on the floor in here. I’ll grab some pillows from the bedrooms.”

Emma collected the bowls and mugs and carried them into the kitchen, where she placed them in the sink. As she made her way back out, Killian ran into her, accidentally knocking her backwards into the doorframe. 

“I’m sorry, Swan!” he exclaimed, immediately dropping the armful of pillows he was carrying and reaching out to grasp her upper arms. “Are you alright?”

Shivers emanated from where his hands made contact, even through the thick fabric of her sweatshirt. “I-I’m fine, Killian,” she stammered. “No harm done.” 

When he didn’t release her arms, she looked up to meet his eyes. The light from the flickering candles illuminated them, and she saw the moment his concern turned into a different emotion - one of warm affection. Her breath caught as she realized that he was probably seeing the same in her eyes. 

Killian brought his hands up to the sides of her face, and raised his brows in a silent question. She nodded slightly and leaned in, letting her eyes drift shut. 

The slide of her lips against his was something Killian thought he’d never get to experience. Ever since he’d met her two years ago when he came to Storybrooke with Liam for the first time, he’d hoped to someday know that feeling. His heart had squeezed in his chest the second he’d laid eyes on her, and he had felt an attraction toward her that was completely foreign to him. 

The kiss lasted just a few seconds before she pulled back, and he was afraid that he’d misread her signals. She pressed her forehead against his momentarily, then wrapped her arms around his neck and captured his lips once again. 

His arms slid around her back and he felt her running her tongue along the seam of his lips, which he parted to accommodate her. She tentatively explored his mouth, then tilted her head and got a little bolder. A low moan escaped him as he reciprocated, wondering if he was somehow dreaming, while at the same time deciding to enjoy the feeling for as long as it lasted. 

When breathing became a necessity, Emma broke the contact between them. She could hear him panting slightly as he whispered, “That was…”

“Something we should probably talk about,” she finished breathlessly. 

He gripped her hips and said, “Emma, please don’t say it was a mistake, because it didn’t feel like one to me.”

She shook her head. “That’s not what I was going to say. I just want to...I don’t know...figure out where we go from here, I guess.”

“Oh, okay.” 

They gathered up the pillows he’d dropped and went into the living room. Emma sat on one end of the couch, and when Killian hesitated, she took his hand and tugged him down beside her, not letting go of him once he was settled. 

Neither of them spoke for a while as they tried to figure out where to begin. Finally, Emma cleared her throat and said, “If I tell you something Elsa told me tonight, will you promise not to get upset with her?”

“I can’t imagine anything she could say that would make me angry with her.”

“She said that you’re, um, really shy, and the reason you flirt with me is to cover up for that.”

He dropped his eyes and pulled at a thread on his flannel shirt. “She’s, uh...she’s right. I’ve never been very good...you know...around women, especially ones as beautiful as you.” 

Emma could feel her cheeks grow warm as a result of the compliment. She squeezed his hand before answering, “You don’t have to be nervous around me, Killian. I have to admit that I’ve been attracted to you for quite a while now, maybe even from the first time I met you.”

“Truly?”

“Yeah. I’ve just never thought that it would be worth pursuing since you live so far away, and I can’t seem to make any kind of relationship work, let alone a long-distance one.”

“I don’t know what sort of men you’ve been dating, Love, but if they aren’t interested in being in a relationship with you, they must be fools.”

She laughed lightly. “To be fair, it’s usually me who doesn’t want to continue going out with them. I guess maybe I set my expectations too high.”

“Should I be intimidated by that confession?” he asked teasingly.

She nudged his shoulder with her own. “Are you saying that you want to date me?”

He turned in his seat to look directly into her face, and she could see the sincerity in his gaze, even in the dim light. “I would very much like to date you, Emma. What do you say? Will you go out with me?”

She reached up to run her hand along his jaw, enjoying the feel of his beard against her palm. She had noticed that it was longer than the short scruff he usually wore, and she found it to be quite attractive. “Yes, Killian. I will go on a date with you.”

“Only one?” he asked cheekily, as his right eyebrow rose high on his forehead. 

“I have to see how the first one goes before I promise a second one.”

“So, no pressure then?”

“Nope. Just show me the best time I’ve ever had on a date and I’ll consider going out with you again.” She giggled at the look of consternation on his face. 

“I know you’re teasing, Swan, but I really do want to plan a lovely date for you. You deserve nothing less. I was thinking perhaps we could go out to eat at a nice restaurant, then take a drive to see the Christmas lights. Would you like that?”

“So you’ve already put some thought into this, huh?”

“Maybe.”

“I think it sounds wonderful! And honestly, you don’t have to feel like it has to be something spectacular. I’d be perfectly happy to stay in and watch a show or movie like we did tonight before the power went out.”

“Ah, so this is actually our first date then, and you’ve already agreed to a second one!”

“I don’t think it works that way, Buddy!” 

“Too late! I’m already counting it!” he chuckled. 

She slapped playfully at his chest, and he grabbed her hand before she could do it again. 

“Sweetheart, your hands are freezing! Let’s get you under some blankets.” 

He reached over to the pile that he had deposited earlier on the opposite end of the couch. As he started to drape it around her, she said, “Wait, I have a better idea.”

He watched her leave the room, wondering what she had planned. While she was gone, he checked the inside temperature on the thermostat. 

When she reentered the room, she was dragging two comforters-one from his bed and one from Liam and Elsa’s. He realized what she was intending to do and hurried over to push the coffee table out of the way, being careful not to jostle the two lit candles on it. Then he helped her spread the comforters on the floor, one on top of the other. 

Tossing the pillows down on the makeshift bed, Killian told her, “The temperature is down to sixty-one in here. I knew it would drop pretty quickly with the way that wind is blowing.” 

Emma was unfolding the blankets and shivered involuntarily. “The bedrooms are even colder than out here. It was a good idea to close them off.”

“When Liam and I were kids, we spent most of the winter camped out on the lounge floor in front of the fireplace, and Mum would sleep on the sofa. I remember going into my bedroom to get dressed in the mornings and nearly freezing since we kept those rooms shut off, but it saved some money for our family.” 

They worked together to layer all the blankets on the floor, then Killian said, “I’m going to brush my teeth. Do you need a toothbrush to use? I’m sure Elsa has some extra ones tucked away somewhere. Liam always grabs two or three new ones when he goes to the dentist, because he’s a cheapskate and doesn’t want to buy them for himself.”

Emma laughed. “Sure, that would be great. I obviously wasn’t prepared to spend the night here.”

After brushing their teeth, Killian went into his bedroom to change into sleeping attire. When he made his way back out into the living room, he found Emma already snuggled under the pile of blankets. 

“Did I take your side?” she asked.

“I don’t really have a side, at least not that I know of. I’m not used to sharing a bed. When Liam and I shared as kids, I always had to sleep on the outside so I could get to the bathroom quickly if I needed to. Sometimes I didn’t make it in time and...” He abruptly stopped speaking. “I guess that’s TMI. Sorry, Swan.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she said. “I like knowing more about your childhood. Elsa told me that your, uh, your father abandoned the family before you were even born.” 

“Aye, that he did.” 

She held up the blankets in invitation, and he dropped to the floor and began to crawl into the cocoon they had created. 

“Wait a second. I’d better blow out the candles.” 

“Oh yeah, good idea.” Emma started to throw back the covers.

“Stay put, Love. I’ve got it.”

She turned on her phone flashlight so he could see his way around. After he’d extinguished the candles that were scattered around the room, he slid under the mountain of blankets. Emma turned off the light, leaving them in complete darkness. 

“It’s funny how quiet it is when the power is off,” she observed. “I guess we don’t even notice the constant hum that’s created by electricity.”

“Aye, that’s true. It always seems like the darkness is darker without any power, also, if that makes any sense.”

“It does, and I agree.”

Killian heard Emma shifting and soon felt her pressed up against his left arm. He lifted it and she nestled in closer to his side. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and left a breath of a kiss on her head. 

She ran her hand up the soft fabric of the henley he wore until she encountered a soft tuft of hair peeking out of the unbuttoned opening halfway up his chest. She swirled her fingers through it and felt him shudder. 

“Ticklish?” she asked slyly.

“Your fingers are like icicles, Swan.” He removed his arm from around her, took both of her hands between his, and began rubbing them vigorously. 

“How do you stay so warm? You’re seriously like a furnace.”

“Why, Swan - are you saying I’m hot?” Even though she couldn’t see it, she knew without a doubt that he was wearing his trademark smirk. 

Just as she opened her mouth to answer, her text notification went off. She pulled her hands from his grasp and fumbled for her phone, quickly swiping her finger across the screen. “It’s from Elsa. They made it there safely.”

“That’s a bloody relief,” Killian breathed. 

“She says Anna hasn’t started hard labor yet, and Kris is less than two hours away, so they’re pretty sure he’ll make it there before the baby is born.”

“Sounds like it’s going to be a long night for them,” he said, as Emma tapped out a response. 

“I think the birthing rooms have sofas and recliners in them, if it’s like the one Mary Margaret had. They should be able to get some rest.”

“Have you ever spent any time around Anna? That girl can talk the wallpaper off the walls! I doubt they get a whole lot of rest.”

Emma laughed. “She used to come visit quite often when Elsa and I roomed together in college. After a while, you learn to tune her out.” She laid her phone down and yanked the blankets around her shoulders again.

Killian gathered her back into his arms, this time holding her more tightly against his chest. She sighed in contentment. 

After several moments, she felt a rumble under her cheek as he said, “May I ask you something, Emma?”

“Of course.”

“Elsa has mentioned that you don’t have any family. What...what happened to them?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. I was abandoned when I was just a few days old. I went through the system until I was almost fifteen, then I landed in a foster home with Ingrid, who kept me with her until I graduated from high school. It was the longest I ever stayed in one place. She helped me apply for scholarships so I could go to college.”

“Do you keep in touch with her?”

“Yes. I’ll be going to Boston to visit her sometime during the holidays, I just haven’t figured out when.”

They fell into a comfortable silence again, as Emma rubbed small circles into Killian’s shoulder, and he glided his hand up and down her back. 

“I guess we have a lot in common with our lack of parents, don’t we?” he asked. 

“Unfortunately, yes, but I feel like Elsa and Mary Margaret are as close as any sisters I could have ever had. And Liam and David treat me like their little sister - sometimes almost annoyingly so.”

“I completely understand what you mean when it comes to Liam!” he laughed. “I’m looking forward to getting to know David and Mary Margaret better. They seem like a great couple.” 

“They really are, and their little boy D.J. is adorable.” She paused for a couple of minutes before she asked, “How old were you when your mother passed away?”

“Fourteen. Liam was only eighteen, but he became my guardian. He worked and held off going to Uni for a few years, then took home courses until I graduated secondary school. It was lucky he went on campus eventually because that’s where he met Elsa. Did you study overseas, also?”

“No, I was just scraping by financially. I’ll never forget when Elsa came back from Ireland, though. I knew right away that she’d fallen in love, just the way she talked about Liam.”

“Aye, he was smitten with her from the very beginning, just like…”

She gave him some time to continue, and when he didn’t, she prompted, “Just like what, Killian?”  ` `

He swallowed. “Just like me, when I first saw you.”

She pushed up onto her elbow, moving her opposite hand across his collarbone, and into the soft hair at the nape of his neck. Leaning down, she connected with his lips and they shared a leisurely kiss. 

After laying her head back down on his chest, she murmured, “Killian?”

“Mmmhmm?” 

“I really like kissing you.”

He let out a chuckle. “The feeling is mutual, Love, I assure you.” 

“Despite the circumstances, this is really nice, isn’t it?”

“Aye, it certainly is,” he agreed. There was another period of silence before he asked, “When would you like to go out on our date, Emma?” 

“Are you thinking of planning it for next week?”

“Would that be too soon?” 

“No, that would be fine. I have to close on Tuesday and Friday. Other than that, my evenings are open.”

“Shall we say Wednesday then?”

“Sounds perfect.”  

Killian thought that Emma had fallen asleep when she didn’t speak for quite a while, so he was a bit surprised when she asked, “Do you think we’ll be able to dig my car out tomorrow?”

“We’ll have to see how things look in the daylight. Are you in a hurry to get back to your apartment?”

“No, I don’t have any plans since the bookstore is closed on Sundays. I feel like I should stay until Elsa and Liam get back, or at least until the power comes back on.”

“I definitely wouldn’t mind the company.” He brushed a kiss across her forehead, then she tilted her face up to press one to his jaw. He turned his head to meet her lips and they engaged in another languid kiss. 

Soon after they separated, he heard her yawn. “Do my kisses bore you, Swan?” he chuckled.

“Not at all,” she reassured him firmly. “It’s just been a long day. I had the early shift which started at six-thirty. I don’t usually have to open the shop, but Mary Margaret and David wanted to take D.J. to see Santa this morning.”

“Ah, your exhaustion is quite understandable then.” He pulled the blankets more snuggly around her. “Are you warm enough, Sweetheart?”

“Mmmhmm.” She yawned again. “Goodnight, Killian.”

“Goodnight, Love. Pleasant dreams.” 

A few minutes later, he heard her breathing grow deeper and more regular. He continued to run his hand up and down her back until he felt sleep beginning to pull him under, as well. His last thought before he drifted off was how he could very easily get used to holding Emma Swan in his arms every night. 

*********

Several chimes from Emma’s phone pulled her out of a very good dream. Sitting up groggily, she haphazardly patted the couch to search for it. When she finally located it, she squinted at the screen and saw that it was shortly after five-fifteen in the morning and there were several messages from Elsa. She entered her passcode, as Killian stirred beside her. 

“What is it, Swan?” he asked, his voice deep and gravelly. 

“More texts from Elsa...oh!” she exclaimed, slapping him on the arm excitedly. “Anna had the baby at four thirty-seven! It’s a little boy, and they named him Aaron Dale. Elsa says he’s strong and healthy, 8 lbs, 6 oz, and Anna is doing fine. Kris made it there in plenty of time, so she and Liam are going to get some sleep at Anna and Kris’s house. She says they plan to go back to the hospital afterwards, then they’ll head home later this afternoon.”

“That’s nice.” He gave a jaw-cracking yawn. “Can I go back to sleep now?”

Emma was busy typing out a response to her friend. “I’m telling Elsa the power is out, but we’ve got everything under control. I’m also gonna tell her that you’re being grumpy.” 

“Mmph.”

“For some reason, I’ve always pictured you as a morning person, Jones.” 

“Too bloody early,” he mumbled into his pillow. 

She sent the text, then playfully shoved him in the back. He shot his hand out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her back down onto the thick comforters. 

Emma giggled as he nuzzled into her neck. “I thought you were tired.”

“I could be persuaded to stay awake for the right reason.”

“What would that reason be?”

“Keeping a certain lovely lady warm.”

“That is a good reason.” She wrapped her arms around him and her lips found his for a brief but sweet kiss. 

“Mmmm, I have to say that this is a very nice way to wake up,” Killian’s voice rumbled in her ear. 

His accent was more pronounced in his drowsy state, and that, combined with the chilliness of the room, caused Emma to shiver. He noticed immediately and, after securing the blankets around her, began to rub his hands up and down her arms. 

She yawned. “As nice as it is, I could do with some more sleep. How about you?” 

“Absolutely, especially since we won’t be able to use the coffee maker.”

Emma groaned. “Ugh, I forgot about that. Maybe if we go back to sleep, the power will magically be on when we wake up again.”

“It’s worth a try.” He stopped massaging her arms and pulled her into his chest. She could feel his lips press to the crown of her head twice, then her eyes closed and she gave in to sleep once more. 

*********

The next time Killian awoke, the room was bathed in light coming in through the windows. He was laying on his right side, with Emma tucked up against his back. Her left arm was draped over his waist, and he felt puffs of her breath on his neck. He could tell she was still sleeping soundly, so he let himself enjoy the feeling of being in the arms of the woman he’d dreamed of holding for such a long time. 

Liam and Elsa had encouraged him to ask Emma out every time he’d visited them, knowing that he harbored feelings for her. He always balked, claiming that it wouldn’t be fair since he lived in Ireland, which was a valid excuse, but in reality, he was afraid of being rejected. Even though he talked a good game when he was around her, he completely lacked the confidence he needed to initiate anything that might lead to a deeper relationship with her. 

He thought about the events of the night before and smiled as he realized everything had fallen into place for Emma and himself to be alone in the dark, cuddling together to share their body heat. He couldn’t have planned a better opportunity to open up to her and admit how he felt. And then for her to confess that she felt the same, well, that was more than he could have ever asked for. 

“Why are you thinking so loud?” muttered the subject of his thoughts.

He chuckled and flipped over to face her. “I wasn’t aware I was doing that.” 

“Trust me, you were.” Her eyes blinked open and she smiled sleepily when they connected with his forget-me-not blue ones. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Love. Did you sleep well?” 

“Uh-huh. How about you?”

“Surprisingly well for being on the floor of a house that has no heat, with someone snoring in my ear.” His dimples became pronounced as he failed to hide his teasing smirk. 

“Watch it, Buster!” she retorted, lightly pinching his side. His yelp of feigned pain made her giggle, then she stretched her arms above her head and released a wide yawn. “I’d kill for a cup of coffee right now.”

“Should I be nervous?”

“Possibly.” 

“Note to self - keep Emma Swan supplied with coffee or risk an untimely death.”

“Don’t you forget it.” She plucked her phone off the couch to look at the time. At Killian’s questioning look, she reported, “It’s almost eight o’clock.” 

It was his turn to stretch, then he tossed back the blankets, pushed himself to his feet, and crossed the room to look out the window. “It looks like the snowplow has gone through. I think I’ll try to take Elsa’s car to get some coffee and breakfast.”

“You don’t have to do that, Killian. I’m not that desperate for coffee.”

“It actually looks pretty clear. I’ll just go to the gas station down the street. It has a convenience store inside.”

“That would be great, if you really don’t mind. I’ll text Elsa and tell her the roads are plowed but the power is still out.” 

“Aye, that’s a good idea. I’m going to go get changed.”

After Killian brought back some food and the caffeine fix Emma needed, he asked, “Do you want to try to dig out your car? The plow pretty much buried it, and the snow isn’t going to melt anytime soon.” 

Emma sighed. “Yeah, I suppose we might as well. It’s not like we have anything else to do.” 

Killian grinned. “Oh, I could think of much more enjoyable activities that we…” He stopped abruptly. “I’m sorry, Emma, I wasn’t thinking…”

She put her hand on his arm. “Hey, it’s okay. I really don’t mind, you know. I think I would actually miss your comments if you stopped making them altogether.” 

“Still, I don’t want you to think that I’m treating you with disrespect.”

“I don’t think that at all. I feel like we established where we stand with each other last night.” She watched him nod in agreement, then asked, “Do you know if Elsa has any ski pants and snow boots? I’m not going to last very long out there in jeans and the boots I wore here last night.”

“I’m pretty sure she has winter clothing in the cedar chest underneath the window in their room. There’s a storage tub for boots in the garage. I’ll see what I can find.”

They dressed as warmly as possible, then headed outside. Emma was plodding around her little yellow bug, dismayed to see that the snow was piled up to the windows, when Killian came down the driveway gripping two snow shovels. He handed one to her and asked, “Ready, Love?”

“Sure. Let the fun begin.”

He chuckled and trudged toward the front of the car, while she dug her shovel into a drift that was against the driver’s side door. 

They worked diligently for nearly twenty minutes and Emma was finally beginning to see some progress, when suddenly a snowball hit her in the back while she was bent over beside the rear tire. She straightened up and turned, “Jones! You’re playing with fire by start-” 

Another snowball hit her square in the chest. She looked down at herself, then her eyes shot up to see her attacker knelt down and peeking around the front of the car with a shit-eating grin on his face. 

“Oh, you’re asking for it!” she shouted, throwing down her shovel and grabbing a large chunk of snow. She packed it tightly between her hands and drew back her arm, waiting for an opportunity. Before long, she saw his head pop up and threw the snowball as hard as she could. He ducked, but not before it knocked his black beanie askew. “Ha! Gotcha!” she celebrated. 

Soon snowballs were whizzing back and forth through the air as the couple’s teasing threats and laughter rang out. After a few minutes, there was a lag in the action and Emma cautiously crept around the back of the car. As soon as she poked her head around the fender on the passenger side, she was tackled and landed in a large pile of snow with Killian laying on top of her. 

“I win!” he crowed. He stole a quick kiss, then got up and brushed himself off.

“Okay, fine!” Emma conceded. “Can you just help me up?”

He offered her his hand, but before he could pull her to her feet, she yanked hard on his arm to knock him off-balance. Then she took advantage of his momentary unsteadiness to shove him into another snowdrift, scoop up two handfuls of the fluffy white stuff, and plop it right into his surprised face. 

He sputtered and gasped, shaking his head briskly from side to side. “Swan! Bloody hell, that’s cold!” 

A frigid battle ensued until both of them lay panting on the ground, surrounded by the trampled snow that attested to the wrestling match that had just occurred. 

“Truce?” Killian asked breathlessly, reaching across his body to offer her his hand.

“Truce,” she agreed, putting her hand into his and shaking it, “but I won.”

“I don’t believe that’s how a truce works, Love,” he chuckled. 

She rolled over and leaned on her elbow, looking into his cold-reddened face. “It is when we play by my rules!” She smiled widely at his outburst of laughter, then bent forward and rubbed her frozen nose against his. 

He raised his head to brush his lips over hers, before dropping it back down so he could look into her sparkling green eyes. 

“You are so beautiful, Emma.”

She ducked her head at the compliment, and he lifted her chin with his gloved finger. “You are, you know. The moment I met you, I thought you were the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen.”

“Thank you, Killian,” she said softly. “I guess, um, I guess we’d better finish shoveling out my car before we both freeze to death.”

“Aye, good point.” 

Once their task was finally done, they headed back inside to try to warm up, even though there was still no heat. Killian was more than happy to join Emma in a nest of blankets on the couch, and they cuddled together, laughing and talking until they could both feel their fingers and toes again. 

The electricity flashed back on just after eleven o’clock. They checked the house to make sure everything was working properly, opened the bedroom doors, and inspected the food in the refrigerator to verify that it was still edible. Then they reheated the leftovers from the previous evening, which now seemed so long ago.

They chose not to turn on the television or seclude themselves with their phones. Instead, they raided the game closet and played several rounds of Sorry and Clue, and a very competitive game of Risk, as the house gradually got warmer. 

By the time Liam and Elsa arrived home late in the afternoon, they were surprised at what they found. When they’d left less than twenty-four hours before, Emma seemed to be merely tolerating their brother. Now, as they entered the living room, they came upon a couple who was so wrapped up in one another that they hadn’t even noticed the return of the homeowners. 

Elsa turned to her husband and gave him a knowing smile. 

*********

Emma and Killian went on their date, although they still argued about whether it was the first or second one. That led to many more afternoons and evenings together until they were nearly inseparable. 

He bought a little house close to the harbor eight months after moving to Storybrooke, and she joined him when he flew to Ireland to pack and ship his belongings. He was glad to have her with him as he faced the bittersweet memories that the task stirred up. Upon returning home, he helped her box up the things in her apartment, and they were also moved into the house. 

By the time Anna and Kris threw a party for Aaron’s first birthday, Killian had placed an engagement ring on Emma’s finger that featured an emerald which matched her eyes. He had secretly purchased it the day before they left the Emerald Isle. 

 They were married two months later in a small, intimate, candlelight ceremony...while the snow fell steadily outside the chapel windows.

*********

I hope you are happy with your gift @girl-in-a-tiny-box, and that you have a wonderful Christmas and start to your New Year!