Damn.

Emma can already see the line at JC Penny as she rises on her tiptoes and clutches the PJs to her chest, trying to see over the throng of people.

She huffs and makes her way over to the customer service line, not even caring if she bumps into anyone; she just wants to get this over with so she can go back to her comfortable, messy apartment, change into pajama pants that won’t fall from her waist, sip on hot cocoa and snack on all the candy and treats she pocketed from her parents’ house at Christmas.

“Son of a bitch!” The word tumbles from her mouth when someone not only crashes right into her but also spills their green juice all over her blouse.

“Bloody hell, love. I’m so sorry.”

The deep, velvety accent probably would’ve made her melt and set her skin ablaze if the beverage wasn’t so fucking cold.

And if that’s not bad enough, when she lifts her pajama pants to assess the damage, there’s juice all over the clothes she was supposed to return.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” When she lowers the clothes in her arms, her head snaps up and her angry eyes connect with the most ridiculously gorgeous blues she’s ever seen in her entire life, and some of the anger sizzling in her blood magically disappears and morphs into pure shock, her mouth falling open as the obscenities disappear from her lips.

Holy. Fuck.

Dark, artfully mussed hair, scruff on his chin and cheeks, chiseled jaw.

And his eyes. Those eyes seem to be tracing every inch of her, and her skin heats under his gaze.

And is he really checking out her boobs?

Seriously?

He’s handsome, though; she’ll give him that. No, handsome doesn’t adequately describe him.

Gorgeous.

Beautiful.

Greek god.

Nope, she definitely isn’t attracted to him.

Absolutely not.

“Crap, how am I going to return these now?” she asks, irritation lacing her words as she holds up the ugly flannel pajama pants.

An amused smile flirts with his lips, his eyes full of mirth—the same eyes that are still awkwardly staring at her chest, blush coloring his cheeks.

Like, what the fuck?

He looks up, his eyes searching around as he throws the empty cup into the nearest trash. He places his hands on her arms, making her breath hitch as he lifts her arms, pressing them against her chest.

“I think you have bigger problems to worry about than returning your pajamas.” He places his hand on her back, once again making her breath catch as he urges her forward.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s called trust, love. Try it.”

She sighs and moves in the direction he’s taking her toward. “But I don’t even know you.”

“I don't know you either. And yet I’m trying to help you out. But you’re more than welcome to walk around the mall like that.”

“Like what?” Her brows are furrowed in confusion as she peers down at herself. Her eyes blow wide and her cheeks flame when she realizes she’s wearing a white t-shirt with no bra and her nipples are poking out underneath the layer of green. “Oh my God.”

When they reach the restrooms, he pulls off his black leather jacket and plaid overshirt, offering the shirt to her. “Here, take this.”

She eagerly accepts it, and the man takes her pajama pants, holding them while Emma enters the ladies’ room. When she looks in the mirror, her jaw drops to the floor. She looks like Shrek with tits. She dashes into a stall, peels off her green shirt and cleans up before pulling on the plaid and buttoning up over her bare breasts. She tosses the green shirt into the trash and exits the bathroom, her eyes shooting daggers at him. “What the hell? Why can’t you watch where you’re going?” she asks, taking her pants back and walking away from him.

He follows behind her and falls into step beside her. “I said I was sorry, love. But you ran right into me before I could move out of the way.” He chuckles. “You were pretty determined to get to that return line.”

“Yeah, well, you should move quicker next time.”

He nods. “You’re right. Next time I see a beautiful woman marching toward her destination with fire and determination in her eyes, I’ll roll out the red carpet.” He mocks her with a bow, flourishing his hands. “All hail the Queen.”

“You’re funny,” she says sarcastically. “But that will not fix my pants or pay for the shirt I just threw in the trash.”

He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet. “How much were they? I’ll pay for them.”

“I’m not taking your money. I’m not that desperate for cash.”

“Says the woman returning her Christmas gifts.”

She scowls at him. “How do you know I got them for Christmas?”

“It’s either that or you stole them from a lumberjack.”

She snort-laughs. “Well, thanks for having faith that I wouldn’t stoop that low.”

“You’re welcome, love. So, if I can’t pay for the clothes I ruined, then how can I make it up to you?”

She looks around, her eyes lighting up when she spots the pretzel stand, “You can buy me a pretzel.”

He chuckles, obviously amused all she wants is a soft pretzel. But it doesn’t take much to make her happy.

They get in line, and he orders her a pretzel, not even getting one for himself.

“Are you sure you don’t want a bite?” she offers once they leave the pretzel stand.

He raises a hand in refusal and shakes his head as he tucks his wallet inside his back pocket. “Nah, I don’t eat that rubbish. Do you know what that stuff does to your body?”

“Uh, yeeeeaaaah.” She pops a small bite of the soft cinnamon-coated goodness into her mouth as they walk around the mall. “It fills me with warm, delicious happiness like Christmas used to...before I grew up. Ironically enough, I still sit at the kids' table.”

He arches his brow at her. “How come?”

“So I don’t have to constantly be ridiculed for being single while trying to stuff my face with turkey.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Oh, it gets worse. Let’s see, my brother, who’s ten years younger than me, proposed to his girlfriend, so now I’m literally the only one in my family who is either single or doesn’t have children. Even my aunt, who is a self-described man-eater, had a date for Christmas. In fact, I caught her getting her cookie licked by the mall Santa.”

He clears his throat like he’s trying to clear the image she implanted in his head. “That’s a festive visual.”

Her face twists as she takes another bite of her pretzel. “Seared into my brain like a bad tattoo.”

“You think your Christmas was bad. Try wearing an ugly Christmas sweater while selling bait and lure to men on Christmas who have nothing better to do than go ice fishing and tell a complete stranger their entire life story and the best way to clean fish guts off a boat.”

“That doesn’t sound half bad, actually. If I worked on Christmas, I wouldn’t have to be reminded of how single I am, and every single person in my family wouldn't be trying to set me up with someone.”

“I’d rather spend Christmas with family and sit by the fireplace watching Christmas movies.”

Emma looks at him curiously. “How come you don’t then?”

“Because I don’t have much family to spend the holidays with. Just my brother. Our parents died when we were young.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Guilt washes over her as she realizes she’s been complaining about her family and how lonely she feels when his only family is his brother.

“Thanks, love. I just wish I had an excuse to not have to work on the holidays.”

“Why do you need an excuse?”

“Because my brother’s the owner, and he runs a tight ship. He says if I don’t have any plans, I have to work.”

“Your brother sounds like a pain in the ass,” she groans, tearing off a piece of her pretzel.

“You have no idea.”

“So why don’t you just make something up then?”

He shrugs. “And do what? Sit at the bar and drink my sorrows away?”

“You could find a date,” Emma suggests, as though it’s an obvious solution. But she knows more than anyone, finding someone who’s not a complete tool like her ex is not as easy as it sounds. But maybe that’s just her experience. This guy looks like he probably has hundreds of women lined up at his door. Not all of them may be gems, but his odds are most likely better than hers.

“With whom? I don’t have a girlfriend, love,” he says, looking over at her bashfully, the tips of his ears red as he scratches behind one of them.

She swats his shoulder. “Oh, come on. A good-looking guy like you can’t get a date?” She regrets her words as soon as she says them, knowing he might let them go to his head. But who’s she kidding? He definitely knows how good he looks—the guy has to have a mirror.

The cocky smirk he flashes her as he jabs a finger at his chest tells her he definitely knows. “I am devilishly handsome. But I don’t want to find a girlfriend solely for the purpose of not having to work on the holidays.”

“You could get a holidate.” The words spill out of her mouth before she even realizes what she’s saying. But she recalls her aunt in a similar situation—not wanting to have a boyfriend just so she won’t have to be single for the holidays.

“A holidate?”

“Yeah, like a date for the holidays. No pressure...no expectations. Just two people having an enjoyable time and drunk-mocking strangers at parties.”

His eyes light up and he points at her. “I do like drunk-mocking strangers at parties. But who would I get to be my holidate?”

Emma shrugs a little and throws her pretzel wrapper into the nearest trash. “What about me?” She can’t believe she’s offering, but it’s actually the perfect solution to both their problems.

He turns around to face her, arching a brow. “Really? You’d be my holidate?”

“Why not? I mean, think about it. You’ll get to go out and have fun instead of being miserable at work, and I won’t have to walk into a room and be showered in a sea of pity and sad glances. I mean, why does everyone have to be so suspicious about a happy, single woman?!”

“Because you’re not happy.”

“Um, yes I am.” She plasters on a smile and points at the corner of her lips. “See? Happy.”

“No, you’re not.”

She narrows her eyes at him, crossing her arms. “And how would you know?”

“Because you’re an open book, love.”

She rolls her eyes.

“Human beings aren’t meant to be alone on the holidays. They need warmth and companionship and someone to drunk-mock strangers at parties.”

She laughs and nods in agreement. He does have a good point. And she has to admit, she’d love to have a New Year kiss, just not one with any strings attached. She’d like to kiss someone at New Year and then go home alone and not have to worry about what will happen next or if he’ll cheat on her three months down the road. “Look, my parents got me tickets to the Skyfall party on New Year’s Eve and if I don’t find a date, my mother is going to find one for me.”

“Really?” He cocks a brow at her, his eyes shining with intrigue. “That’s such a fun party. And it’d be nice to go and have a few drinks, relax and not have to worry about my date going batshit crazy if I don’t drop a knee at midnight.”

“Exactly. We could just have fun and not have to worry about all the relationship stuff.”

“That’s good because I’m not looking for a relationship.”

Disappointment bubbles up inside her, but she pushes it away. Even if she wanted or needed a relationship, she wouldn’t go for a guy like him. He’s too damn handsome to not be a heartbreaker. “Neither am I,” she states matter-of-factly, never taking her eyes off his.

“Well, then it’s perfect. You’ve got yourself a date,” he says with a grin and extends his hand. “I’m Killian, by the way.”

She smiles a little and slips her palm in his. But instead of shaking it, he brings the back of her hand to his lips and drops a kiss there. Her damn breath hitches again when she feels how warm his lips are and how tingly and inflamed her skin is from his touch. “Emma,” she forces out breathily as she tries not to picture other things he could do with those lips. And she is not envisioning him licking her cookie.

Nope, definitely not.

“Pleasure to meet you, Emma.” He releases her hand, leaving her immediately missing his warmth as he pulls out his wallet and slips out a card, handing it to her. “Here’s my info, love.”

Emma’s eyes narrow when she sees where he works. “Hooked Bait & Tackle.” She looks up at him. “Sounds fishy,” she quips. “What’s your real job?”

He chuckles. “Text me and we’ll finalize the details.”

She flicks the card against her palm. “See you on New Year’s Eve, Captain Hook.”

He winks. “See you then, love.”

As soon as Emma turns around and walks away, her cheeks heat and she peers down, suddenly remembering she’s wearing his shirt. She spins around and calls after him as he walks away.

“Wait, your shirt!” Which is dumb because it’s not like she has anything to change into.

He turns around and grins. “You can give it back on New Year’s Eve!”

“Okay!”

They wave at each other before Emma turns around, pausing as she passes a store with a mannequin in a sexy black dress. She bites her bottom lip, realizing she has nothing to wear to this party.

She enters the store and tries it on, skeptical of how she’ll look in it. It’s usually hard for her to find dresses that actually look good on her, but when she tries on the gorgeous black number, she loves the sweetheart neckline and how good it makes her cleavage look. Her ass doesn’t look too bad in the dress, either. She wonders what Killian’s reaction will be when he sees her in it, wonders if it will make those gorgeous blue eyes pop out of his skull. She smirks into the mirror as she turns to her side, placing her hand on her hip.

-

“Again, in English?” Y/N cocks an eyebrow at him, the string of words he’d just said sounding almost foreign in her head. 

 She doesn’t mean for it to sound as rude as it does, but she can’t help it. She’s tired, exhausted even, not to mention cold. The snow fall had picked up five minutes after she’d called the number Jug had given her and it had taken him, or Sweet Pea as he’d introduced himself, almost 40 minutes to reach her. 

But he just laughs it off, smirks before firing it straight back at her. “You aren’t getting anywhere in this car, anytime soon princess.”

“Great!” It’s official. Her mom’s going to kill her and she’ll be blamed for ruining Christmas. She throws her hands up in defeat, kicking a tyre in the process. “Just great!”

“If it makes you feel better, this isn’t how I planned on spending my Christmas Eve either.” He watches her amused, another laugh passing his lips before the sarcastic remark follows, his arms now crossed over his chest and she almost feels guilty. 

“I’m sorry for being such an inconvenience.” She throws a false apology at him along with  a fake grin that falls into a frown almost immediately. 

“Apology accepted.” She’s scowling at him now, eyes rolling back but he simply ignores it, happy to keep winding her up. “Want me to give you a ride somewhere while I tow this back?”

“Only on one condition.” She points a finger over her shoulder towards his trunk, the radio still on loud. “We find a station that isn’t playing Christmas music.”

“Hey, it’s either Mariah Carey, or you walk Sweetheart.” He shrugs, walking backwards, watching her make the choice. 

He can’t help but laugh again when she sighs and runs to the passenger seat, desperate to seek shelter from the snow. 

-

10 minutes after Sweet Pea kindly drops her off at her childhood home, Y/N finds herself still on the porch out front, mentally preparing herself for what’s about to come.

She sucks in a breath. Two, three. And with a fake smile so sickly sweet it makes her stomach hurt; she lets herself in.

Polly’s the first to spot her, catches her the minute she walks through the door and pulls her into a hug before she can even drop her bags. She can’t help but sink into the embrace, it’s always nice to see her older sister alone like this, but Y/N doesn’t even get the chance to ask her how she is before the twins descend down the stairs and push past them in a blur.

“Juniper put the presents down- Dagwood no!” She feels Polly gently squeeze her hand in a silent way of saying they’ll catch up later before she’s chasing after them, joining an exhausted looking Jason who pauses long enough to wave a quick hello before he resumes pursuit.

She moves further into the house, away from the chaos of the living room and towards the interesting smells wafting from the kitchen. It’s impossible not to hear her Mother barking orders from where she stands over the stove, while Jug and Betty listen to every word, working on the dining table and it’s fixtures like a well-oiled machine.

“Y/N/N you’re here!” Betty looks up with a soft smile but doesn’t dare move from her task and face the wrath of Alice Cooper.

“Finally!” It’s Alice’s turn to look at her now, a perfectly shaped eyebrow arching in distaste as her eyes roam over her middle daughter. “Please tell me you aren’t wearing that to dinner?”

Y/N lets out a breath she didn’t realise she was holding and prepares to fire back when a gentle arm lands around her shoulder with a calming chuckle.

“Oh come on Mom, Y/N looks fine.” Charles plants a quick kiss to her forehead before ruffling her hair and they both laugh. Her brother had always been her saving grace in situations like this, the only one brave enough to stand up for himself and the others, ever the mediator. But not even he was enough to put Alice off her persistent questioning, she was already sick of her Mother’s judgement and they hadn’t even touched on her job or her relationship status yet.

-

“You’ve definitely told them we aren’t officially together, right?” Sweet Pea takes one last, slow drag of his cigarette before stomping it out under his boot. Josie nods at him reassuringly but one look up at the exterior of her parents house has his stomach in knots. “They know we’re just casual?”

“Sweet Pea would you stop?” She playfully pokes at his ribs, but he just sighs and rubs a nervous hand down his face.

He couldn’t help it, that sick feeling rising from the pit of stomach by the second. The idea of spending Christmas with Josie’s family, a girl he’d only been dating for a month, was absolutely terrifying on all levels. But Fangs had ditched him to spend the holidays with his boyfriend in New York, not that he could really blame him, and he had no other family in town so when she originally offered, he’d jumped at the chance of not spending the day alone.

Part of him had regretted it since.

If Sweet Pea thought the outside of house was impressive, with it’s perfectly placed lights and overly decorated windows, it was nothing compared to what was waiting for him on the inside.

Myles and Sierra McCoy welcome them at the front door with bright smiles and open arms that engulf Sweet Pea before he even has the chance to say hello.

Josie joins in, the four of them becoming one big, massive group hug like he’s been part of their family his whole life and not just a stranger potentially only passing through. All three of them squeal in excitement before someone yanks him in doors.

If he had doubts before, he thinks, he’s almost certain he’s in over his head now.

-

Betty gets engaged on Christmas Morning.

Right in front of the Christmas tree, just after the last presents are opened and the twins are happily distracted by a mountain of toys; Jughead drops to one knee and pops the question under twinkling lights. 

The minute Betty gasps the word ‘yes’ the family erupts in cheers, fawning over the couple. Of course Alice is already crying, Polly demands to see the ring, while Charles and Jason pat Jug on the back. 

Y/N however stays put, her eyes falling down into her mug of spiked coffee that her mom had scolded her over, eyebrows raised over the rim as she knocks it back. 

“Aren’t you going to congratulate your sister?” Alice sends her a pointed look, catching her before she can slope off into the peaceful confines of the kitchen. 

“Congrats Betts.” She pulls her into a hug and paints on the biggest smile she can muster as she mumbles into her hair. “I’m so happy for you.”

And she is. Her sisters getting everything she’s dreamed of with Jug, of course she’s happy, but it’s hard to ignore the fact that her younger sister will be married before her. 

Even Charles has betrayed her this year and invited a date to Christmas dinner leaving her the last single Cooper. And her mom wasn’t prepared to let her forget it anytime soon. 

-

Sweet Pea successfully manages to make it through family movie night, forcefully sat between Josie and her mother, hot cocoa in hand and surrounded from all sides. He even grins and bares the series of photo albums that follow, another embarrassing photo of Josie lurking behind every page turn, but he draws the line when the marriage talk starts, declaring he’s suddenly tired and turns to run up the stairs so fast he’s surprised he doesn’t pull something on the way.

Sienna wakes them up on Christmas morning with a soft knock at 8am sharp, wearing a bright red Christmas jumper and holding two more for the both them.

The mere idea of it makes Sweet Pea’s skin itch as much as the material does once he begrudgingly pulls it over his head.

The rest of the morning is spent sipping coffee, watching the three McCoy’s exchanging gifts. He’s too distracted, wondering if it’s still too late to find a way out of the whole thing to even notice Josie standing in front of him until she’s shoved the present right under his nose.

“Merry Christmas my love.” She places it down on his lap and Sweet Pea finds himself wanting the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

“Jose I… I thought we said we weren’t doing gifts?” All three pairs of eyes are now on him, burning their way into his skin and he’s sure he’s never felt embarrassment like it.

“But that was just a joke, right?” He smiles awkwardly when she laughs, but the sound is humourless, and he can already see the anger bubbling behind her eyes. She doesn’t even give him the chance to reply. “What, so I’m good enough to sleep with but you can’t buy me a gift?”

He chokes, shocked by her transparency around her parents while his cheeks redden by the second.

Ten minutes later he’s out on the drive, bags thrown in the back of his truck, scrambling to get away as fast as he can.

-

Christmas Day ends the way it started.

Miserably sat at the kitchen table, sipping on something alcoholic held in her hand.

Polly and Jason had slipped off not long after dinner, taking two sugar high kids and all their loud noises with them. Betty and Jug now sit on one couch, his arms wrapped around her shoulders, her head resting on her chest, content in their own bubble of love while Alice sits on the other, quizzing Kevin Keller, Charles’ surprise date. She’d feel bad for him if she wasn’t already feeling relieved that her Mother’s attention had turned to someone else for five minutes. Her brother sits besides her, topping up a glass of red.

“He seems nice.” Charles hums in response, biting back a laugh. Was she missing a joke? “What?”

“If I tell you something, you can’t tell the others.” A quick eager nod and she’s shuffling closer so he can whisper his secret. “Kev’s just my Holidate.”

She blinks back in shock. “Holidate?”

“Just a date for the holiday, someone to keep Mom off my back.” He shrugs like it’s nothing, like it’s the simplest solution to the problem. He sips his wine while he waits for her to process it. “There’s no strings attached and I don’t have to spend events alone. I’m even heading down to his parents after New Years to return the favour.”

“Thats...” Y/N breathes out, she’s a little envious she hadn’t thought of it herself. “What an idea.”

-

Y/N sinks into a booth at Pop’s Chocklit Shoppe two days later with a sigh of relief, happy to welcome the peace that comes with being away from her family.

She loves them, her siblings, her mother, the twins, of course but it’s exhausting. The intruding questions, the never ending merry go round of pity and interfering. She knows deep down it’s only because they care, but sometimes she wished they’d just leave her alone.

Pops promptly brings her order of curly fries over, with a soft smile and an extra chocolate shake on the side she didn’t order. It’s been two years since she last stepped into the place, yet he still remembers her favourite like it was yesterday.

“It’s good to see you Y/N.” There’s something in his tone that just feels like home and she finds herself welcoming it, it’s been a long time since anything in Riverdale has felt anything close to that, not since the truth about her dad.

Pops doesn’t stick around, a light pat to her shoulder before he’s a retreating form, leaving her to her thoughts. She barely makes it through a fry before someone’s sliding in opposite her.

Sweet Pea pushes the key across the table, grinning cheekily as he helps himself to the basket in front of him. She barely knows him and he’s already stealing her food. “One fully functional car.”

“Finally!” She snatched them up, hiding them

in her bag and he can see the tension practically melting from her shoulders. “Now I can get out of the hell hole.”

“Christmas went that well? He asks, curiosity peaked.

“You could say that.” She presses herself further into her seat, huffing as she rubs the palm of her hands against her jeans. The anxious look in her eyes tells him that what ever she might say next won’t necessarily make sense and she’s a little embarrassed by it. “My sister got engaged.”

“To FPS son right?” He vaguely recalls his boss proudly telling anyone who would listen that morning. “And that’s a bad thing?”

“She’s my younger sister, and now, as I’m about to be the only official unmarried Cooper daughter my mom has even more of an excuse to interfere in my love life.” The words just slip out and she finds part of her gladly confessing her thoughts to a virtual stranger instead of keeping them in. He smiles in a way that tells her he gets it.

“Yeah well, bet you a chocolate shake mine was worse.” He ignores the glare she sends him when he innocently brings her existing milkshake to his lips and continues when she says nothing. “I spent it with someone I’ve been dating for four weeks and her parents.”

She almost chokes on a curly fry. “You got serious that quick?”

“Of course not, and we both knew it.” She stares at him like he has two heads, he knows she can’t quite fit ‘causal relationship’ and ‘family Christmas’ together so he does it for her. “Didn’t want to spend the day alone so I took her up on the offer. Cue overbearing parents, the cringest matching jumpers and the ultimate gift exchange where I got her nothing because we agreed no presents.”

“Aren’t you old enough to know by now that no gifts definitely means get her a gift?” She laughs when he rolls his eyes.

“Ended with her kicking me out before dinner.” She shakes her head, laughs again as she calls him tragic and a tiny part of him agrees. “And now I’m officially dateless for New Year’s Eve.”

“Thanks for reminding me I have to come back in a few days to attend Riverdale’s Annual Blossom New Years Eve Party alone for the second year running.” She wrinkles her nose in disgusted, unprepared to have her friends on her back as well as her family, and ends up missing the way his eyebrows raise in surprise.

“You know Toni and Cheryl?”

“T’s been my best friend longer than I can remember and Cheryl’s brother is married to my sister, guess you could say I know them pretty well.” She tilts her head to the side, eying him slowly, like she suddenly sees him in a different way. “How’d you know them?”

“Guess you could say I spend more time than I should at the Wyrm.” The mention of Toni’s bar lights up her face. “Plus Toni’s been a really good friend to me since I got here, I was actually meant to be taking Josie to their party.”

“I think I know a way to solve our little problem.” A plan suddenly forms in her head, he doesn’t know whether to be worried or not as he watches the smile on her face widen. “Sweet Pea how would you like to be my Holidate this Friday?”

“Your holi-what?”

Forever Taglist: @p-marie-sp

Sweet Pea Taglist: @80sand90simagine @wildberryyyy @hopelesslylosttheway @be-gay-do-crime-cutie

Ever since Thanksgiving, when she went to Graham to ask him for a second chance, they haven’t been apart. So now, Emma is hopeful she won’t have to catch her aunt getting her cookie licked by a mall Santa on Christmas. Or by any man on any other day. And who knows, perhaps Emma will get her own cookie licked on Christmas; her boyfriend is the master of cookie licking after all. And he enjoys it.

But even if all that hadn’t changed, it wouldn’t matter, because now she has Killian to help Emma deal with her family. And he’s right; if he couldn’t handle them, he would’ve left long ago.

She’s glad she was able to tell him the truth on Thanksgiving. She had wanted so much more than to be his platonic holidate, especially after their not so platonic Halloween. So she did what she does best and got scared and ignored his messages and phone calls. But that turned out to be a huge mistake, because she could have lost the only man she’s only truly loved (besides her father and brother, of course). What she had with Neal was child’s play, and she had no idea what love truly was until she met Killian. She had no idea what it’s like to be truly cherished and cared for in a romantic relationship. Emma’s the only one he sends dick pics to, and she doesn’t have to snoop through his phone to know that because she trusts him.

Completely.

There are some things that haven’t changed, though. Her parents’ house is still overly decked out for the holidays, her mother is still hoping for grandbabies and Emma still gets ugly plaid pajamas. But now she won’t have to return them, because Killian seems to like them for himself. Whenever he’s sleeping over at her place, he wears the ones she got last Christmas.

Emma hands him the two gifts she got him, and he peels back the wrapper of one and reveals a Hamilton Beach panini maker. “You can make paninis again.” She adds with a smirk, “And I promise I won’t steal it.”

He chuckles and leans in to kiss her cheek. “Thank you, love. I missed having one.” He opens the other gift, which is in a rectangular box, and pulls out an ugly green Christmas sweater that reads, My girlfriend made me wear this.

“That’s payback for St. Patrick’s Day,” she teases, recalling the shirt he made her wear for their bar crawl.

He pulls it on over his blue collared shirt. “I love it,” he says with a grin. He stands up and goes over to the Christmas tree, picking up a festive gift bag with red and white tissue paper peaking out. Handing it to her, he reclaims his seat on the sofa next to her. “Your turn.”

Emma eyes it suspiciously as she sets it in her lap. She doesn’t remember seeing this bag with the other gifts they brought with them. Perhaps he’d given it to Liam since he arrived here with Elsa before them.

She removes the tissue paper before pulling the other items out.

A gift card from the pretzel stand where he bought her a soft pretzel the day they met, and a box of bourbon truffles.

“Don’t worry, love, I’ll eat them with you,” he teases with a smirk.

She laughs, setting the box aside. “That’s probably a good idea. We both know I get loopy when I eat too many of these.” She reaches into the bag again and pulls out what she thinks is the last item. Her eyes widen as she takes out a blue Tiffany jewelry box.

“Don’t worry, love, I’m not proposing,” he assures with a chuckle when he sees the look on her face.

Her cheeks warm as she pops open the box and gasps when she carefully removes the necklace. A heart-shaped locket hangs from a delicate chain, and when she opens it, there’s an inscription on the left half that reads, Yours for the holidays and everyday in between, and a picture of them kissing that was taken on St. Patty’s Day on the right half. She looks up at him, tears stinging her eyes. “Thank you,” she breathes, still admiring the necklace. “It’s gorgeous.”

“You’re very welcome, sweetheart.” He takes the necklace from her hand and closes the locket as she gathers her hair up, letting him clasp the chain around her neck. He takes the locket in his hand, brushing his thumb over the yellow gold heart as he looks up at her, a twinkle in his eyes. “Stunning. And so is the necklace.”

She blushes as she picks up the Tiffany box to replace it in the bag.

“Wait, there’s one more gift.”

Emma arches a brow at him. “There’s more?”

“Aye.”

Knitting her brows together, she reaches into the bag and fishes around the bottom, her breath catching when she feels it in between her fingertips.

She pulls out the key and has an inkling what lock it’s to.

Killian stares into her eyes and takes her hand in his, sucking in a long, wobbly breath. “Emma, spending more than just the holidays with you has made me realize I want to spend every morning waking up next to you and every night going to bed with you. Will you sprinkle your girly crap all over my flat? Will you move in with me?”

Emma gulps and doesn’t even have to look around the room to know everyone is staring at her, waiting for her response.

Sensing her anxiety, he squeezes her hand and whispers in her ear. “It’s okay if you say no, love.”

“Yes.” She grins big and wide, her eyes lighting up. “Yes, I’ll move in with you!”

He sighs in relief and pulls her into a hug. Emma wraps her arms around him tightly, never wanting to let him go again as everyone claps and cheers.

To think how far they’ve come. They went from being friends who were fake dating and completely denying their feelings for each other to being in a real relationship and are now moving in together.

To think, last year, Emma hated Christmas. But now that she gets to spend it with Killian, it’s her favorite holiday.

Especially next year when they hop on a plane and spend Christmas sipping mocktails on a beach in Hawaii. Her parents aren’t too happy about the trip of course since Killian and Emma aren’t spending the holiday with them. But Emma figures the postcard she sends them featuring a wide-brimmed sun hat atop her head that reads baby on board will shut them up. For now, at least.

Killian ignores the question as they head down the walkway, greeting Kristoff, who’s pumping air into an inflatable turkey on the front lawn.

“Hello, this is my brother, Liam. He’s Elsa’s date. Liam, this is Anna’s husband, Kristoff.”

The man seems grateful for the break as he pauses what seems to be a daunting task to shake Liam’s hand. “Nice to finally meet you. The girls have told me all about you.”

Liam raises a brow. “Good things, I hope?”

“Yes, of course.”

Either the lasses lied to him, or Kristoff is being polite, because while Killian can admit his brother is overall a nice guy, he can be a self-righteous pain in the arse on occasion. Though he doubts Elsa has seen that side of him yet during the month they’ve been seeing each other.

After Halloween, Liam asked Emma for her cousin’s number, which involved a whole lot of groveling on his part for Emma to cave. But Killian tries not to think about Halloween—or rather, the morning after Halloween—because then he’ll just get sad and frustrated all over again. Their morning together in Emma’s bed was incredible. Mind-blowing really. Kissing her, tasting the tangy sweetness between her legs, feeling her walls wrapped around his cock. She…felt…like…heaven. He woke up next to her, admiring how beautiful she was and the next he knew, he was claiming her lips and pulling her body against his, craving her. All of her.

But then she bid him farewell with “See you at Thanksgiving,” like what they’d shared together was meaningless. He thought being together strictly on the holidays was over and they could be together between holidays too, but she’s barely spoken to him since then. Only to ask him to come over to her parents’ house for Thanksgiving.

Killian takes a deep breath before knocking on the door, not knowing what to expect. The last time he saw her parents was at the wedding, and they weren’t too happy with him.

“Liam!” Mary Margaret squeals with delight in her apron, throwing her hands up and pulling him in for a hug. “It’s good to see you.” It’s not until they break apart when she even notices Killian’s presence, and her smile fades a little. “Hello, Killian.” Her voice is a hint more proper and a lot less excited. She obviously hasn’t forgiven him for showing up to her son’s wedding with Ruby, even though it was Emma’s idea to bring other people, not his.

“Mrs. Nolan.” Killian nods as he steps inside and hands her the pie.

“Thank you, but we’re covered for dessert. Perhaps the neighbors can use it,” she says before turning around and walking into the kitchen.

Elsa and Daisy come up to greet them.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” Liam gives them a hug with a big grin on his face.

“Hey, Killian, what’s up?” Leo high-fives him, Audrey coming up beside her husband. At least Emma’s brother isn’t mad at him and is still his friend.

“Hi, how’s married life going?” he asks, engaging them in idle conversation as his eyes search the room for Emma. They tell him how they’ve been really trying to get to know one another more, since they got married so fast.

After they end the conversation, Killian goes to the kitchen, following the delicious food smells wafting through the air. David is cutting up vegetables as he looks up to see Killian, a frown forming on his face.

Killian gulps, the sight of Emma’s father with a knife not settling the nerves in his stomach. “Hello, Mr. Nolan.”

“Hello.” He nods curtly. “Did you bring another date again?”

“No, sir. Just my brother. I was actually looking for Emma.”

“She’s probably upstairs.”

Killian nods and offers a small smile before leaving the kitchen, letting out a sigh of relief. That could’ve gone a lot worse. He heads toward the staircase, the sound of the children’s laughter following him, bouncing off the walls and giving him the courage to keep moving forward.

He spots Emma in the corridor and sucks in a deep breath, blowing it out theatrically before he makes his way to her. “Happy Thanksgiving, love.”

“Happy Thanksgiving.” If he were dripping with blood or had transformed into an enormous spider, then he might understand the look of terror in her eyes. “How have you been?” The obviously forced smile and pleasantries are only confirming what a terrible idea it had been to come.

“Good…busy. You?”

She nods. “Good. Also busy.”

Killian scratches behind his ear, an awkward silence forming between them. “So, uh…are we just going to pretend like what happened didn’t happen?”

“Killian, you know I didn’t want you to leave, but Elsa was there..and she needed someone to talk to.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about you avoiding me for a whole month and only responding to my texts to ask what my favorite Thanksgiving dish is.”

Her face clouds over with guilt and apology. “I’m sorry, I’ve just been working a lot. I’ve been out of town tracking down a fugitive I’ve been trying to catch for months and finally got a lead.”

“And you didn’t have time to send a simple text. Like ‘how are you?’ or ‘how have you been?’”

Emma throws up her hands in defeat. “I’m sorry, Killian, okay? I’m not good at this whole relationship thing. That’s probably why Neal found someone else.”

Before he can tell her that wanker’s an idiot, Emma spins around and heads down the hall, Killian following behind her. “Emma, wait…”

She goes into one of the bedrooms, which he’s assuming was her childhood room.

Thankfully, she lets him in.

Her room looks like it belongs to a princess. Everything’s pink and white and not quite what he expected Emma’s childhood room to look like.

“When your mother said she wanted us home for Thanksgiving,” he plops down on the bed, dropping his face into his hands, “what exactly did she say? Because she didn’t seem very happy to see me.”

“She said me,” she replies quietly, closing the door and keeping her palm splayed across the white painted wood for a beat. “When I told her you’d be here too, she doubted you were coming.”

“Well, um, I should go, shouldn’t I?” He stands from the bed. “What am I doing here?”

“No.” Emma scuttles across the room and catches his arm. “Stay. I want you here.”

Killian twists around to look at her, searching for sincerity in her eyes. Before, she seemed guarded, closed off, like she didn’t want him here, but now he can see the vulnerability in her eyes. Like she’s at war with herself.

“Please,” she adds in a whisper. Almost imploring. He wonders if she just wants him to stay so she doesn’t have to hear about it from her family.

Nevertheless, he can feel the resolve weakening from his shoulders. Even if everyone else didn’t want him here, all that matters is that she does. “Fine.” He grimaces, dragging a hand through his hair and staring out of the window.

The last time he saw Emma, she’d made it clear she didn’t want a real relationship, and apparently, nothing has changed since then.

🦃🦃🦃

Killian knew he should’ve left when he had the chance. Or maybe he never should’ve come in the first place. But he’s coping with being ignored by Emma’s parents. Standing next to her, resplendent in a tight-fitting sea-green dress that matches her eyes, with her long, blonde curls practically gleaming in the sunlight streaming into the house, Killian expects nothing more. In fact, he’s using it to his advantage. Retreating to a corner to nurse a glass of spiked eggnog is suiting him just fine.

Emma and Elsa are setting the table when Aunt Ruby makes her appearance, arriving fashionably late as always. “Happy Thanksgiving!!” she sing-songs, pulling off her jacket and throwing it on the edge of the sofa as she rushes over to give Elsa and Emma hugs, her date following behind her. “Meet my new friend, Warren.”

“Wally,” the man corrects.

“That’s what I said.”

Elsa forces out a laugh before shaking his hand. “Hi, I’m Elsa.”

Emma smiles, holding out her own hand. “Emma.”

“Pleasure to—” Wally cuts himself off when he sniffs the air. “Something smells great coming from the kitchen.”

When Mary Margaret and David come out to greet Wally cheerfully, Killian’s heart sinks. Even the stranger gets a more welcoming greeting than he did.

Emma tugs her aunt to the side as Wally chats with her parents. “You didn’t invite Graham?”

“Oh, that?” Ruby laughs and shakes her head. “You know me. One holidate per customer.”

Emma furrows her brows. “But you seemed so happy together.”

“Short and sweet, honey.” Ruby shrugs. “Everything ends eventually, so why sit around waiting for it to happen?”

🥧🥧🥧

When it’s time to eat, everyone convenes in the dining room, where Emma’s mother brings him up to speed on the proper decorum expected of him–as if he’s completely uncivilized.

The dining room is impressive. A long table is set for fifteen, with an enormous plate of carved turkey taking center stage, surrounded by an assortment of dishes. To top it off, intricate flower-candle decorations interspersed the abundance of food, and each setting has a napkin folded into a swan. David had ordered Killian to fold them all; he was sure it was a form of passive-aggressive punishment.

Thankfully, he’s seated next to Emma and, of course, as far from Ruby as physically possible, which makes him roll his eyes, certain their seating arrangement was done purposely. Not that he cares—the only person he wants to sit next to is Emma. At least he has that going for him.

Once everyone’s in their chairs, they join hands and close their eyes, chanting the Lord’s Prayer he’s been told they do every Thanksgiving and Christmas. As Killian says the prayer he had memorized after Emma had mentioned this to him, it’s nice to feel her hand in his, and he rubs his thumb over her warm, supple skin, which he can tell makes her melt into his touch.

When they’re done, Killian feels the loss of Emma’s hand as her father tells them to dig in. Killian scoops some sweet potatoes onto his plate before offering the dish to Emma.

She smiles, making a move to take it, but he spoons some potato onto her plate instead of handing the dish to her.

“Thank you,” she says appreciatively as he passes it on to the other side of her and takes the proffered stuffing.

Things start off fine as they pass around the dishes and eat quietly, apart from the noises they make as they enjoy the food.

“So, Killian, will you be joining us for Christmas or are you planning on bringing someone else?” Mary Margaret asks out of left field.

“Mom, please,” Emma groans through a mouth full of food, scowling at her mother.

Inhaling sharply, Killian decides the best course of action is to reach for his wineglass and say nothing. His main priority is to survive this day, not to start an argument. Which, all things considered, he thinks he’s doing a pretty good job of.

But Emma’s parents seem to be getting a kick out of egging him on.

“Please, what? Am I not allowed to defend my daughter?”

“It was my idea to bring other dates to the wedding. So just drop it, okay?” Emma demands, taking a big gulp of her wine.

Her parents eye her in confusion.

“Why would you do that?” Mary Margaret asks with furrowed brows. “We thought you two were happy together.”

David glares at Killian. “What did you do to make my daughter upset?”

“He didn’t do anything!” Emma exclaims.

“Well, clearly he did. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have had to bring Graham to the wedding. He should’ve worked harder for the relationship, not squandered it away.”

Emma rises from her chair, her nostrils flaring. “Killian and I were never in a real relationship!”

Mary Margaret gasps and everyone is staring at her in surprise and confusion, their mouths open. Well, everyone except for Liam and Elsa, who already knew. Emma’s eyes meet Killian’s as he gulps and sets down his napkin. She looks around the table as she continues. “Killian and I agreed to be each other’s holidates so you all would stop judging me and giving me crap for being single.”

“Emma—”

“I’m not finished,” she snaps at her mother sharply. “Even when you thought I was in a relationship, you were still down my throat, begging me for grandbabies and wanting us to get married! Will I ever be able to please you, Mother? Huh? Even after I get married and have kids, what will be next? More kids? Bigger house? When will you ever stop pestering me?!”

Mary Margaret clutches her chest, aghast. “Excuse me?”

Emma looks at Killian again, her eyes glistening with tears as she extends her hand. He slips her palm in his and stands in front of her as she joins their hands together. “Killian, I’m sorry I dragged you through this. I’m sorry for everything, but most of all, I’m sorry for not being honest with you.”

Killian swallows hard as he stares into her eyes, wondering what she means by that.

Honest about what?

“You were right. I have been avoiding you.” She takes a deep breath as though she’s about to pour out her entire soul to him. Maybe she is. “Because I was scared. But if it’s any consolation, this whole month without you has been the worst month of my life. I missed you so much. And chocolate has been only mildly comforting since I had to eat it without you.”

Killian chuckles a little, his heart clenching, knowing this month has been just as terrible for her as it’s been for him.

“I thought I wanted a holidate…but the truth is…I just want you…for all holidays…and weekends. And weekdays too would be nice.” A smile crosses her lips. “I’m in love with you, Killian.”

He grins and releases her hands, completely relieved he can finally stop pretending and doesn’t have to shove down his feelings anymore. He cups her cheeks in his hands and presses his forehead against hers. “I’m in love with you too.” He captures her lips and pulls her into his arms, forgetting about everyone else around them. His heart is soaring and he’s so glad he finally gets to be with her on more occasions than just the holidays. When he pulls away slightly, he murmurs against her lips. “That speech was cockamamie, by the way.”

Emma laughs before pressing her lips to Killian’s again, his hand caressing her cheek.

When they finally break apart, they look around them, her mother swooning and everyone else smiling. Even his brother seems to look at her admiringly.

“I’m so sorry for pressuring you,” Mary Margaret says sincerely, standing and cupping Emma’s cheeks in her hands. “I only wanted you to be happy.”

“Me too, princess.” David rises from his chair, placing a hand on her shoulder, and they both squeeze her into a hug. Once they break apart, her father looks at Killian, apology written all over his face. “I’m sorry for the way we’ve treated you. We just didn’t want to see Emma get hurt again.”

Killian offers a small smile. “It’s okay. I should’ve just been honest with Emma in the beginning and asked her out.” He glances at Emma. “But she probably would’ve turned me down.”

She shrugs. “Probably. But I was an idiot.”

“You weren’t an idiot. You were just protecting yourself.” He looks at David and sticks out his hand. “Are we mates again?”

He eyes his hand at first, a blank expression on his face before he looks up at him, a big smile spreading across his face as he opens his arms. Killian sighs in relief when David pulls him into a hug.

“Aunt Rubes? Where are you going?” Emma asks, looking over toward the front door.

Killian turns around, seeing Ruby pulling on her red jacket. She turns around to answer her niece. “I want Graham for more than just the holidays too.” She looks at her date with apology. “You can stay for dessert if you want.” She flies out the door before her date can respond.

Mary Margaret offers him some pie, apologizing for her best friend. And apparently, she decided to serve Killian’s apple pie after all. “Who else wants dessert?” she asks with a beaming smile, trying to ignore the fact Thanksgiving dinner didn’t go exactly as planned.

He’s downed almost two bottles of wine by the time they’re all eating dessert and is glad he’s in a blissfully tipsy state when Mary Margaret starts planning his and Emma’s wedding; he’s not sure which is worse—being ignored by her parents or the center of attention. And it’s not that he’s opposed to the idea of marrying her—he even finds himself chipping in with ideas and objections of the planned décor. He’d even joked about marriage after the finger incident on the Fourth when Emma was filling out his paperwork for him. “Wouldn’t this be so much easier if we were married?” The question awarded him with an eye roll and drew an adorable blush on those porcelain cheeks.

“Come on, I think we’ve survived for long enough.” Emma takes Killian’s hand as soon as they’ve finished desserts and leads him towards the stairs.

“Well, that wasn’t so bad,” Killian comments as she drags him up the steps.

“Speak for yourself, it was a nightmare,” she grumbles. “I’m really sorry about my parents,” she apologizes once they reach her room.

He cups her cheeks in his hands and takes a moment to look at her, really look at her. He can tell she’s irritated and flustered, and he pulls her into his arms to reassure her. “It’s okay, love,” he whispers into Emma’s neck. “I knew what I was signing up for when I accepted your invitation,” he adds softly, causing Emma to hug him back even tighter.

“Thank you for coming,” she breathes, “and thank you for putting up with them. They were dreadful.”

Killian pulls back and chuckles. “Well, according to your mother, they’ll be my in-laws soon, so they’re supposed to be dreadful,” he teases with a smirk.

Emma rolls her eyes and shakes her head, but before he can apologize, she’s grabbing the collar of his shirt and kissing him. Swiping her tongue against his, she tastes like red wine and strawberry cheesecake. He groans, pulling her into his arms.

“Don’t worry, no one’s asking you to drop a knee on Christmas,” she breathes against his lips, resting her forehead against his, her eyes closed.

“What if I wanted to?” he asks with a playful smirk, tucking her hair behind her ear.

She opens her eyes, amusement dancing on her face. “Then the joke’s on you.”

He chuckles and frames her face in his hands, his thumb stroking her cheek. “So, does that mean you’ll be my date for Christmas?”

She grins. “How about tomorrow?”