#killiancygnus

“Killian isn’t Walsh. He wouldn’t do that,” Henry said, raising his eyebrows. 

She scowled at the mention of her ex-boyfriend. Walsh had been overly critical of not only her job but also how she was raising Henry. On their last date, he had mentioned how Henry needed a proper father figure and she had promptly shown him the door. Needless to say that he hadn’t taken the break up well and the next day, she had gotten a visit from social worker from the Office of Family and Child Services.

“You don’t know him. I don’t even know him.”

“You’ve been working with him for three years, that’s like forever!”

“Yeah and I only know like five things about him.”

“Mom!”

“What?”

“You should talk to him more, I know you like him. Especially his butt. You always lean over to look at it.”

Emma rubbed at her temples, fighting the furious blush threatening to stain her cheeks. It was one thing for David to tease her but an entirely different thing for her eleven-year old son to take notice of her habit of checking Killian Jones out. 

The problem was that Emma actually liked Killian. 

She hadn’t at first when he first arrived. He had been cocky, irritating and had a reputation for trouble. He had transferred to their precinct after being undercover for seven years with the mafia before being down the entire Gold operation in a RICO case. Despite his success, there had been whispers that he had gone rogue and had gotten himself involved with Gold’s wife and it had ended in her grizzly murder. The environment at his old precinct had become toxic enough that he was transferred and had been partnered with Robin Locksley ever since. 

After hearing the rumors, Emma had been suspicious, but he proved himself be more than a self-important lothario during a kidnapping case they worked together. He hadn’t been the most professional partner she had ever had, but he had a quick wit and a determination unlike anything Emma ever seen. On top of that, he had a mind like a steel trap and knew Emma’s drink order without her  prompting.

He was a good guy albeit rough around the edges and she’s been crushing on him ever the kidnapping case. Not that she’s going to do anything about it because Emma Swan didn’t date other cops.

She’s done it before, and the thought of Graham made her heart ache. She would never forget the moment he slipped away in her arms, his blood oozing between her fingers as she tried to put pressure on his wound and screamed for help. It was something that still haunted her. 

It was why she had been determined to keep things her distance with Killian. She’s never been lucky with love and it was better for them to be friendly coworkers than to have him either ditch her or bleed out in her arms. 

But now Henry had entirely put a wrench in that plan. 

“Just give him a chance, Mom,” Henry said quietly, pulling him from her dark thoughts. “I just want you to be happy.” 

“I am happy,” she asserted, pulling him close and pressing a kiss to his temple. “I’ve got you.”

A week later, she was swamped with work and had entirely forgotten about Henry’s invite.

Emma has never been fond of Christmas. When she was a child, Christmas had been a lonely time and a reminder no one wanted her. No number of donated presents could make up for the insincerity and aloofness from the series of foster parents she had. When she got older and had Henry, she then found resentment in the commercialism of the holiday and how ashamed she was that she couldn’t afford all the fancy toys other parents could. Joining the NYPD did nothing to change her lack of holiday spirit. There was something about the holiday season that made people go crazy and the number of cases she had skyrocketed without fail. 

Which was why she stared up in bleary eyed confusion when Killian Jones appeared in front of her desk, shifting in place and giving her an awkward smile.

“Can I help you?”

“Yeah, love, I was wondering what you wanted me to bring over for Tuesday…”

“What?”

“Tuesday. You know, Christmas? It’s bad form to show up empty handed.” 

“Oh! Ooooh,” she bit her lip, averting her eyes. “Um, nothing. No need.”

“I’ll bring some wine then. What do you prefer white or red?” 

“Seriously, Jones, you don’t have to do this. There’s no need.”

“You look like more of a white wine kind of girl, considering all that sugar you put in your coffee. I’m amazed you still have teeth sometimes, though your dentist must love you.” 

She scowled at him, leaning back and crossing her arms in front of her chest. 

“There’s no need,” she repeated flatly.

“Perhaps not, but I want to. What about Henry? What does he want for Christmas this year?” 

“You are not getting my kid a present!”

“Who said anything about presents? I’m just asking what he wanted…”

Emma raised her eyebrows at him, giving him her patent unimpressed look. 

“You realize that if you don’t tell me, I’ll just text him, right?”

“You have my kid’s number?” she asked in disbelief.

“He gave it to me the day he graciously invited me over to your place for the holiday,” Killian replied, scratching behind his ear. Over the past few years of working on the force today, it was something Emma knew to be a nervous tick of his. “Unless that’s not alright…then I apologize, love. I should have asked you first.” 

She leaned further back in her seat, conflicted. He was right, he should have told her that he has been texting her kid and a part of her wanted to rail at him for disregarding her role as Henry’s parent. At the same time, a part of her had to acknowledge some truth in what Walsh had said. Aside from David, he didn’t have many positive male figures in his life, and despite his colorful past, she trusted Killian both as a cop and as a person. 

“You should have but as long as you’re not discussing work or anything inappropriate, I’m okay with it,” she replied, biting on a pen. “But you’re still not buying my son a gift.” 

“Noted. What time should I be over?” 

“Ummm...early afternoon? That’s when most people have dinner on Christmas Day, right?” She cringed at the uncertainty in her own voice.

“Is that a question, love?”

“Sorta?”

“I honestly wouldn’t know because I haven’t celebrated in ages but that’s what Hallmark tells me,” he replied, blue eyes giving her a considering look. “Why? What do you normally do?”

Emma shifted uncomfortably in her seat.  “Nothing extravagant. It’s usually just a chill day for us.”

“Well, don’t change that on my account. I don’t want to cause any extra stress.”

“You’re not. I promise. I’ll just make going to make dinner. It won’t be that big of a deal, I promise.”

Famous last words.

Emma had never been much of a cooker. While her best friend Mary-Margaret was capable of embodying the spirit of Julia Child and could whip up all sorts of amazing food, Emma was more of the microwave and toaster oven kind of girl. Her crowning dish was instant ramen with store bought cooked chicken thrown in. 

Why she thought she could tackle an entire Christmas ham on her own, she didn’t know, but come Christmas day, said ham was burned beyond recognition. The mashed potatoes she had intended for a side dish were lumpy and there was meat juice all over the expensive Christmas sweater that she had bought just for today. On top of that, she was standing on a chair and waving newspaper at her smoke detector, hoping that it would stop going off. The shrill sound grated at her ears.

It took her two minutes to get the smoker alarm to turn off and when she jumped off the chair back onto the floor, Killian Jones had somehow appeared right behind her. She let out a shriek of surprise, nearly jumping out of her skin. She stumbled backwards into the kitchen island.

“Holy shit, what are you doing here!”

“Henry let me in,” he said with a small chuckle. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

It was after he spoke that Emma took in his appearance and gasped. Killian Jones was standing in her kitchen in dressed in his pajamas. Or at least a pajama set covered in snowman and reindeer. On top of wearing such a ridiculously festive set, he was almost carrying a large tub of Tollhouse chocolate chip cookie dough. 

“What the hell are you wearing? And why do you have cookie dough?”

“Well, I asked Henry what you guys did for Christmas and he told me that you guys usually lounge around in pajamas, watch Christmas movies and eat chocolate chip cookie dough. And I don’t know about you, Swan, but I can’t imagine a better way to celebrate Christmas.”

“What about the Hallmark Christmas dinner?”

“I didn’t realize I had asked for a Hallmark Christmas dinner…” Killian frowned.

“You didn’t,” she admitted, biting her lip and surveying the chaos that was her kitchen. “But I wanted to give it to you.”

“I’ve never had a Hallmark Christmas dinner, Swan, not even when I celebrated Christmas so I can miss something I’ve never had. How about this? You go back to your room and get back into proper dress code then we’ll clean this up together alright?”

“Fine,” she sighed, rolling her eyes at him. “But don’t touch anything while I’m gone.”

“Scout’s honor.”

“Oh, shut up, I know for a fact you’ve never been a scout, Jones,” she responded, wagging a finger at him before turning on her heel and heading into her bedroom. 

She debated getting back to last night’s pajamas but there wasn’t anything really festive about an NYPD training t-shirt and a pair of sweats. Instead, she went digging through her drawers in hopes of finding the holiday pajama set that Henry had bought her a few years ago. She found them in a crumpled heap at the bottom of her pants drawer.

She returned to the kitchen, armed in light blue penguin pajamas and fuzzy Christmas socks, only to find both Killian and Henry cleaning up her mess while listening to Jingle Bell Rock on blast. Henry was swinging his body side to side to the rhythm of the music while scrubbing her cooking pan. Killian, on the other hand, was washing the countertops and mouthing the words. 

“Whatever happened to scout’s honor?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

“As you cleverly pointed out, Swan, I was never a scout.”

She rolled her eyes in response before walking over to Henry and ruffling his hair. He ducked upon the contact, giving her a goofy grin.

“What possessed you in cleaning the dishes?” she teased.

“Killian said that if I helped him pick up then he would help me build the pillow fort.

Ever since Henry could walk, they had always made a giant fort made from all the blankets, pillows and chairs in their apartment. Last year they had managed to make their fort as big as the living room and had kept the fort intact up until the end of Christmas break. Aside from eating an absurd amount of cookie dough and not wearing pants, it was one of Henry’s favorite traditions.

When they were done cleaning the remnants of Emma’s failed Christmas meal, they sauntered in the living room where Emma replaced the Pandora Christmas playlist with the Fireplace for Your Home production on Netflix, which was merely a six-hour video of a Yule log burning. Killian lifted an eyebrow at the choice.

“Interesting Christmas movie there, Swan…”

“It’s not a movie…it’s more like a fix for a craving…”

“Pardon?”

“Well, ever since I was little, all I wanted to do on Christmas was sit down next to a fireplace and watch movies, all cozy and warm. With a cat preferably, at least until I found out I was allergic. And as if you can tell, this apartment doesn’t have a fireplace, so I make do with this. Besides, there’s no movie watching until the fort is complete.”

They spent the next hour and a half bickering over the construction of the perfect blanket fort. Killian and Henry seemed intent layering the entire floor with pillows, which Emma felt was an unnecessary waste of resources. Killian had fit into their annual Christmas project so seamlessly, it felt like he had always been a part of it. When they finished their project, they were all laying in the chaotic mixture of pillows and duvet covers and staring up at the now sheet-tented ceiling. 

“We’re missing something,” Killian said, turning to look at Emma.

“What could we possibly be missing?” Henry asked in disbelief. “This is the best fort ever.”

“Got any fairy lights?” 

“What?”

“Fairy lights? You know, the ones you can hang up for Christmas?”

“You mean Christmas lights?” Henry asked. “Yeah, I think we’ve got some leftover boxes…”

“Why don’t you go get them then, lad? I have an idea.”

They hung fairy lights throughout the inside of their fort and though it was a pain in the ass to find vantage points from where to hang them, Emma could honestly say that it was probably the best fort that they had ever created. The addition of the lights gave the fort a magical mystique that none of their previous forts had possessed.

When they had been finished with the lights, Killian exited the fort only to return with the giant tub of cookie dough and three spoons.  Emma changed from the Fireplace special production to Miracle on 34th Street. 

“What do you normally do on Christmas, Killian?” Henry asked, licking away all the remaining dough off his spoon. 

“Nothing as wonderful as this,” Killian replied with a low chuckle. “Normally, I just sit at home, watching Hallmark movies and eating Chinese food. This is quite the upgrade.”

“Why Chinese food?”

“Well, you see, when I was your age, my brother and I used to watch a movie called A Christmas Story and near the end of the film, the family loses their dinner and has to go to a Chinese restaurant instead. My brother was enamored with the film and when he was alive, he went out of his way to get Chinese on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day in honor of it.”

Henry’s eyes immediately shifted to Emma’s and she knew exactly what he was thinking. Killian had embraced their Christmas traditions with open arms and perhaps it was time that they returned the favor. She slipped Henry her credit card while she and Killian headed into the kitchen to get put their dishes into the sink.

“Thank you for inviting me over, Swan…I know you burned up the ham but other than that, I hope my presence hasn’t mucked up your day too much.”

“No, no, no. Ham aside, it’s been a great day,” Emma said, washing the spoons under the facet. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m surprised you allowed this to happen in the first place, if I’m being honest.”

“Why?”

“Well, you’ve always kept me at arm’s length at the precinct. I actually wasn’t sure you even liked me.”

“I like you,” she said, tugging her hair behind her ear. “It’s just…”

“Just?”

“It’s nothing personal. I…it’s a self-preservation thing really. We don’t have the most steady and safe job in the world. Anything could happen at any time…and it’s just…it hurts less when you aren’t attached.”

“Who did you lose?” he asked softly, giving her an understanding look.

“My first partner…Graham…”

“I take you it you were close...”

She nodded quietly. He paused in his washing, wiped his hands against his pajama pants and pulled her into a hug. Emma stiffened at the unexpected contact before slowing raising her arms and resting her palms against his shoulder blades.

“I’m sorry…” he murmured against her hair. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t empathize. I was there when my brother died and then when Milah…” It was the first time Emma ever heard Killian mention Gold’s murdered wife but she didn’t want to ruin the moment with questions about his time undercover. “That hurt never really goes away...but it does get easier…”

“I don’t think it can,” she whispered.

“It can if you let it,” he replied, blue eyes meeting hers intently. “I know it sounds strange but a broken heart can be a good thing. It means it still works.”

“What are you guys doing in here?” Henry asked in teasing voice, giving them a smirk from the doorway.

“Nothing. Just talking,” Emma replied, pulling away from Killian and brushing her hair behind her ear self-consciously.

“Riiiiiiiight,” her son replied, tone insinuating quite clearly that he didn’t believe her. “Well, if you’re done talking, I just wanted to let you know that A Christmas Story is playing on the television and I thought Killian might want to watch it.”

“I appreciate it, lad.”’

He gave Emma’s shoulder a small squeeze before moving past her. Henry just continued to smirk at her.

“You liiiiiiike him,” he teased her.

“Oh, shut up.”

“You do though!” He asserted. “You really do! Just admit it!”

“I do like him.”

“Good, because he’s awesome and better than you at making forts.”

“Hey!” She exclaimed in mock offence, leaning forward and swatting him slightly on the shoulder.

“What? It’s true!” He laughed. “So, when are you going to go on a date?”

“Date? Who said anything about a date?” She frowned, eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

“Isn’t that what people do when they like each other? Go out on dates and then get married and be a family and what not?”

“Some people,” she replied, shaking her head. “But not me.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s complicated.”

“That’s what adults say when they can’t think of anything and they’re scared.”

“Henry...enough.”

“Just think about it, Mom. He’s good. He fits in with us.” 

He didn’t wait for her to reply, storming out of the kitchen. Emma gripped the countertop, shoulders heaving as she exhaled a loud sigh. She took a moment to compose herself and get a handle on her emotions before joining the boys in the living room.

They were sitting inside the fort, resting on a mountain of pillows. Henry was asking questions about the movie and Killian was answering them with the patience of a saint.

“So this is, like, a super old movie, right?”

“Actually not as old as you think. It was actually made in the late 1980s, though it’s supposed to be a parody on the 1950s American culture. There’s a bunch of a little subtle jokes being made. Like the leg lamp.”

“The leg lamp?”

Emma crawled into the fort. Killian immediately shifted so she could sit between him and Henry. 

“Have you told him yet that this entire movie was just one big advertisement for the Red Rider corporation?”

“That’s pretty self-explanatory, Mom.”

“I consider it to be more of parody of American society than a genuine advertisement,” Killian replied before nudging her foot with his. “I like your socks, Swan. Very festive.”

“You got me these for Secret Santa like two years ago.”

“I should have known I was behind such an amazing fashion choice.”

Even as he brought his foot back down to the floor, he kept his leg right next to hers. When she didn’t move away from the contact, his foot tapped hers again. She smiled and as she was about to tap his in response, there was a knock at the front door.

“Expecting more company?”

“No, only more food.”

“More food?”

“Yeah,” she smiled as she got out of the fort and opened the front door. Her eyes bulged as she took in the amount of bags the delivery boy was holding. She stared at it for a moment before turning back to stare at her son.

“Dude, how much food did you get?”

“I didn’t know what Killian liked so I got everything…”

“Everything? Are you kidding me?”

“Swan, what’s going on?” Killian asked in confusion.

“My son is trying to bankrupt me is what is going on,” Emma scowled as she took the bags and brought them over to the kitchen table.

The boys came out of the fort to inspect the hull. Killian’s eyes widened when he realized what he was looking at.

“Is this Chinese food?”

“Yeah, everything on the menu from Xao Ming,” Henry said, already riffling through the bags.

“Look, we appreciated you being so into our pajama, pillow fort and cookie dough Christmas tradition and we thought that we should add some of your traditions too…” Emma said, giving him a small smile.

“This…this...this is too much.”

“Oh...it’s definitely too much food and we’re going to be eating Chinese for week, but no, you’ve been great and it’s your Christmas too. Besides, the crab rangoons are to die for.”

“I don’t know how to thank you….” Killian said, looking uncharacteristically lost for words.

“You can thank me by helping me by eating all of this food.”

They made plates and brought their food over to their fort. A Christmas Story was just finishing up. They flipped channels until they came across The Snowman animated movie. 

After stuffing his face with food, Henry almost immediately fell into a coma food. His head lulled on Killian’s shoulder, mouth gaping and snoring softly. Killian chuckled.

“Do you want me to help move him?”

“Yeah, thanks. He’s getting too big for me to carry,” she whispered.

Emma grabbed Henry’s legs and Killian got him by the shoulders. Together, they moved him out of the fort and into Henry’s room. Emma tucked him in, running her fingers through his hair and giving him a kiss goodnight before following Killian out in the hallway.

“It’s getting late and I should go…” he said, sounding rather reluctantly.

Emma glanced at the clock over his shoulder, eyes widening when she realized it was well into the evening. The day had gone by like a blink of an eye and she was almost sad, it was ending.

“Holy shit...yeah...look at the time. I’ll walk you out”

They walked closely to each other as they headed down the hallway, their hands brushing against each other’s. They lingered in the doorway.

“Thank you for inviting me for, Swan. This was the best Christmas I’ve had in a long time…”

“I can’t take credit for this. This was Henry.”

“You’ve got an amazing kid there, Swan. You should be proud. You’ve done amazing with him.”

“You mean, amazing for a single mom?” Emma asked, remembering Walsh’s dig at her parenting tactics.

“Amazing for anyone,” he corrected. “You have raised an intelligent and thoughtful young man.”

“Thanks…”

“I only have one question. What’s with the mistletoe?”

Emma blinked, staring at him in confusion. “What?”

Killian chuckled before pointing upwards. Her eyes followed the direction of his finger and, sure enough, there was a few sprigs of mistletoe tacked above the door. She gaped at it for a few moments before letting out a noise of frustration.

“Henry…”

“Henry?”

“Henry did this,” she clarified. “He’s been trying to set us up.”

“Yeah,” Killian chuckled. “I gathered that. He isn’t exactly subtle, love.”

“I’m so sorry about it.”

“No, it’s alright. I appreciate the show of support. Like I said, you have a great kid.”

“Thanks. And for the record, you don’t have to kiss me…”

“But what if I want to?” He asked playfully, waggling his eyebrows at her.

“Well then…I guess...you could if you wanted to…” 

His eyes bulged, looking just as surprised as she felt. She never expected the evening to end with her being comfortable with the idea of kissing him. It went against all of her self-imposed rules. Yet, somehow over the night, she had grown comfortable with the idea. Watching him interact with her kid had assuaged some of her fear. 

“So, that’s a yes?” He stepped further into her personal space, bringing his hand up so that his thumb brushed against the apple of her cheek. 

“Pretty much yeah…”

He tilted his head down and kissed her softly. It was tentative at first, a mere brush of his lips against hers, as if he were afraid that she was going to pull away. Emma wasn’t satisfied with this, wrapping her arms around his neck and slanted her mouth harder against his. When her brushed against his bottom lip, Killian’s enthusiasm and participated grew. She relished the low rumble in his chest and how his mouth opened to hers, deepening the kiss.

It was over before either of them were ready to stop. They swayed against each other, trying to chase each other’s lips. He leaned forward, his forehead resting against hers.

“That was…” he trailed off, apparently lost for words.

“Something else,” she finished. “Want to come over tomorrow and help me polish off the mountain of Chinese food in my fridge?”

“Absolutely...so this wasn’t a one-time thing?”

So now Emma was shivering in the passenger’s seat of Killian’s pickup truck, peering past the windshield wipers at the giant, waving Santa welcoming visitors to “Santa’s Treeland.” Killian parked, then came around to open Emma’s door like the old-fashioned gentleman that he was. The rain had tapered off to a light misting, but it still increased the sharpness of the cold. Emma yanked her beanie down farther over her ears and shoved her hands inside the pockets of her parka. Killian wrapped his arm around her and pulled her against his side, rubbing her arm up and down to warm her more. She had to admit, it helped.

Luckily, the trees were stored beneath an awning made of tarps. A sweet looking middle-aged man approached them as they neared the lot.

“Welcome to Santa’s Treeland!” he said as he handed them candy canes. “First Christmas together?” he asked with a wink.

Killian chuckled warmly, tugging Emma closer against him. “You could say that.” He winked down at her as they walked away, and she poked him in the ribs with her elbow. He just laughed more as he rubbed the sore spot.

The trees were organized by size: 4-5 feet, 6-7 feet, and then 8-9 feet. Emma gaped at the prices.

“Fifty bucks for a tree that’s shorter than me?”

Killian frowned at the tree she had tilted upright. “No way, Swan. Your apartment may be small, but I’m not letting you get a tree unless it’s taller than I am at least. And yes, that’s the price. They’re ten dollars a foot, cheapest in any of the burroughs.”

Emma folded her arms over her chest and shook her head. “Nope. I refuse to pay that much for a dead tree.”

He ignored her completely, hoisting a tree that was over six feet from the next stack over. “Well,” he said, eyeing the thing up and down, “good thing you’re not paying for it.”

Emma blinked rapidly. “Y-you can’t do that!”

He sighed and gave her a tender smile. “Yes, I can, and I will. Now, what do you think of this one?”

Emma, always uncomfortable about receiving generosity, shifted from one foot to the other. She contemplated arguing with him, telling him she didn’t need his charity. If this were Mary Margaret or David, she would have. But with Killian, she knew it wasn’t like that. His upbringing had been similar to her own, and he would never direct pity her way for it.

She tilted her head, chewing on her lower lip. What was she even supposed to be looking for? “It’s okay I guess?”

Killian chuckled. “Is it full enough?” He started turning it slowly. “Or does it have gaps? And the shape, is it close to a triangle or is it too thin or too squat?”

His questions helped as he continued to spin it. Emma frowned. “Now that you mention it, one side looks like it’s missing some branches.”

He nodded, then shoved the tree back with the others. “Then we keep looking.”

They looked at four more until they finally found one just at six feet that was perfect. Unfortunately, while they had been looking the rain had increased. Killian dashed through the rain to where he parked the truck, and by the time he got back his dark hair was plastered to his forehead and rain dripped off his coat. An employee helped him slide the tree into the back of his truck, and Killian quickly covered it with a tarp. Even Emma got slightly drenched just dashing to the passenger’s side of the vehicle. Killian gave his head a shake while Emma squeezed out her damp hair, and they both laughed even as their teeth chattered.

The rain didn’t let up as they drove home. Emma wondered at the wisdom of dragging a wet tree into her apartment, but Killian didn’t seem at all concerned as he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, humming “Oh, Christmas Tree.” When she hesitantly voiced her concern, he just smiled at her.

“I covered it with a tarp, so it won’t be too wet,” he assured her, “and we’ll let it dry before we decorate it.”

His festive mood finally had her relaxing, and she actually found herself tapping out the rhythm on the door handle when he switched to humming “Winter Wonderland.” He parked in front of her building, and Emma realized there was no way she wasn’t getting soaked now. He couldn’t get the tree out of her trunk and up to her apartment by himself. Just as she suspected, by the time they had the thing leaning against the door of her second-floor apartment, her wet clothes clung to her skin and her shoes left puddles in their wake. But somehow, Killian was still smiling.

“Where’s that tree stand I got you?” he asked, shaking the rain out of his hair.

“I set it up right in front of the window like you said, with an old sheet under it.”

Killian rubbed at his jaw as he righted the tree. Then he started to shake it, sending drops of water flying all over the place.

“Ugh!” Emma protested, lifting her hands in front of her face to block the onslaught. “I think we should let it dry out here before we take it inside.”

“We can’t do that, we have to get it in the stand and water it right away, or it will dry out. They drink gallons of water when you first get them home.”

“What are you, a Christmas tree expert?” Emma laughed.

“Well, Liam got me a few trees when I was a teenager,” Killian said as tilted the top of the tree Emma’s way. She grasped the slender half as he hoisted the trunk. “And then there’s Google.”

They both grunted as they maneuvered the thing through Emma’s door. She wanted to ask if he’d had a tree since Liam passed, but she didn’t have the heart to dampen his mood. Besides, she’d been to his place the last couple of Christmases and knew full well he had no tree. She wondered if this little outing was as much for him as it was for her. After all, Christmas traditions just weren’t the same when you were alone.

They tilted the tree so they could set the bottom of the trunk into the red metal stand. Killian’s smile – the one that had scarcely wavered all day – faded somewhat as he shoved the tree downward. His brow furrowed.

“What the -” he muttered. “You got a good hold on it?”

Emma tightened her grip and nodded, her frigid fingers getting poked by the tree’s needles. Killian let go of his end and got down on his hands and knees. All Emma could see was his ass sticking out from underneath the bottom branches. He swore under his breath as he struggled with something; the sound of clanging metal accompanying his curses. Yet all Emma could do was grin as she admired her current view of Killian in his tight jeans. Now that’s a gift any woman would like to see underneath her tree.

“It won’t go in.”

“Excuse me?” Emma startled, blushing furiously as Killian’s head popped back out from under the tree. His hair was disheveled, and his cheeks and elf shaped ears were bright red. Even though he was staring at the tree, and not her, she suddenly felt she had been caught at something.

“It’s too wide for the stupid stand,” Killian muttered gesturing at the tree.

“Oh,” Emma breathed out in relief.

Killian grabbed at a fistful of hair. “Surely we can fix this.” He stood up and eyed the tree critically. “Keep hold of it, Swan, I'll be right back.”

He dashed out of the apartment, and Emma stood there, feeling foolish as she continued to grip the tree. Her wet jeans were driving her mad, and the branches of the tree were poking their way up the sleeve of her parka. She adjusted her grip and groaned when she felt sticky sap coating her palms. What in the world was taking Killian so long?

Emma’s eyes widened when he returned with a huge pair of pruning shears. He squatted down by the tree again, and damn it, Emma couldn’t help where her eyes kept going. Something about the way his wet shirt was plastered to his skin, the way his slightly damp hair was curling at his nape, made her suddenly aware of how well built her best friend was. She really needed to get out of this wet parka because she was suddenly really hot.

“There’s a branch sticking out of the very bottom of the trunk, and I think if I trim it off, it’ll fit in the stand just fine.”

Emma tore her eyes away from his rear end to actually look where he was pointing. “Um, are you sure you want to do that?”

But he was already cutting at the base of the branch with the shears, and as it fell away . . . there went half the tree.

“Shit,” Killian grumbled, running his hand through his hair in frustration again. He really needed to quit doing that. It was making Emma’s fingers twitch.

“Hey,” she told him, “it’s no big deal. We’ll just put that side against the window. No one will be able to tell from the street.”

“I’m sorry, Emma,” he told her, frowning for the first time that day, “I ruined your tree.”

She shook her head. “No, you didn’t. Now can we get this thing in the stand already? I’ve got sap running down my arm.”

That got a chuckle out of him, and he bent down again to tighten the screws in the stand. Once it was steady, they both backed up to examine it.

“Is it just me,” Killian asked, “or is it . . .”

“Leaning? Um, yeah.” Emma finally shed her parka, then stretched her arms. She grasped the tree again while Killian loosened the screws. Then he backed up to assess things.

“A little to the left . . . “ he instructed as Emma adjusted the tree, “a little to the right . . . There! Perfect! Don’t move!”

He dove back under the tree and tightened everything, then he and Emma stood back to admire their work. She smiled, and Killian put his arm around her. Maybe she was beginning to see the appeal of -

Then the tree seemed to lean to one side in slow motion before crashing to the floor.

“Shit,” Killian swore again.

“At least we didn’t water it yet.”

*****************************************************

Killian’s swearing had taken on epic, sailor-like proportions. They finally realized, after many balancing attempts, that they had chosen a tree with a crooked trunk. No matter what they did, the damn thing ending up sideways on the floor. Now Killian had retrieved a tackle box from his truck and was wrapping the thing in fishing wire. He ran the line to the lock mechanism on her window, and now her tree was basically tied to her window so it wouldn’t fall down.

Emma looked at what they had spent the last half hour doing: there were tree branches and pine needles all over the floor, the tree still dripped rainwater from its branches, the back half of it was completely missing, and Killian’s tools and tackle were scattered over Emma’s kitchen table. Killian himself was shaking the tree to ensure that it was held securely by the fishing wire, and he was even more wet than he had been when they’d gotten home from his multiple trips back to his truck. Suddenly, the whole thing struck Emma, and she burst out laughing. At first, Killian seemed startled, and slightly indignant, but then a slightly sheepish grin overtook his face right before laughter spilled out of him as well. He shrugged his shoulders as he stepped away from the hopeless tree.

“Well, I promised you a real tree. I never said anything about quality.”

Emma’s laughter faded as another emotion overtook her. She looked him up and down as he stood there scrutinizing the tree, his arms crossed. Then he lifted one hand to rub at his jaw, his thumb brushing his lower lip. Emma swallowed as realization crashed over her.

“I love you,” she blurted out.

He turned to her tenderly. “Aye. I love you too, Emma.”

She shook her head in frustration, the look in his eyes clearly telling her he misunderstood. “No. I mean, yes, I love you. But I also love you.”

She puffed out a breath, irritated at her lack of eloquence, and a strand of hair fell across her eyes. Killian stepped forward, reached out, and tucked the strand behind her ear.

“What was that, Swan?”

He had a slight smirk on his face that made Emma want to smack him and take it back, but then she saw the slight widening of his eyes and the way they darted across her face. Insecurity. That was the emotion in his gaze.

She managed a tiny smile. “I just realized as I was standing here . . . all of this, how you’ve gone to all this trouble to give me a Christmas memory I’ve never had before, it’s just . . . “ She bit her lip and crossed her arms, then nervously uncrossed them again. Damn it, why wouldn’t her words make sense? “You’ve always been such a great friend to me, but somewhere, somehow . . . I’ve fallen in love with you.”

His eyes sparkled then as a wide grin filled his entire face. He surged forward, claiming her lips, his hands cupping her face. She melted into it as his thumbs caressed tiny circles on her cheeks. They both changed the angle to deepen the kiss, their lips parting for one another. One of his hands slipped from her cheek to her hair while the other one grasped her waist and yanked her close. Emma moaned as she slipped her arms around his neck. He pulled back, breathless, and pressed his forehead to hers.

“I have been in love with you for so long, Emma, it’s been sheer torture.”

“Then why didn’t you -” he cut her words off with another kiss, and every thought fled her brain. Not that she needed an answer. Prickly Emma Swan with her impenetrable walls? Of course he hadn’t thought he could tell her how he felt.

Their kisses were more frantic now, hungry and full of want. But everywhere Emma’s hands drifted was wet and cold. She pulled back and smiled when Killian chased her lips.

“I’m still wet,” she explained, and an involuntary shiver punctuated her point.

“And cold,” he added with a frown.

He rubbed her arms up and down, the warmth from his palms sending tingles down her spine that had little to do with his body temperature. When he let her go to start gathering up blankets that were tossed about her living room, a shudder of loss went through her. When he bent to light the fireplace, she pouted.

“I uh, guess I’ll go change,” she told him, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

“Don’t you dare.” The deep timbre of his voice made her stop in her tracks. When she pivoted back to face him, the smile he was giving her was filled with lustful promise. He quirked a brow as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. “I plan on warming you up thoroughly, trust me, love.”

She swallowed hard, but forced her voice to sound light and airy when she answered him. “Well you better hurry it up before I get hypothermia.”

He chuckled and quickly got the fire going. Then he stood and laid Emma’s fluffiest blanket out on the floor in front of the hearth, the one with the thick, plush lining. Then he grabbed an oversized quilt and walked – no sauntered, he was sauntering – towards her. He tossed the quilt down on the couch next to her, his eyes never leaving hers. Then he drew her close, kissing her passionately, sending heat skittering across her skin. He loosened his hold on her, yet didn’t break the kiss as he undid the buttons on her flannel shirt. Then he pushed the damp garment from her shoulders, sending it falling to the floor with a plop. It felt wonderful to no longer have the wet fabric clinging to her, but goosebumps rose up on her now bare skin. Killian, his lips still fused to hers, attempted to chase them away as he ran his hands down her arms and up her back. He quickly unclasped her bra, and removed it as well. His hand came around and cupped her breast, his thumb caressing her nipple. Emma moaned, her head tilting back as Killian finally pulled away from her lips. He trailed kisses along her neck, her collarbone, then lower as he sank to his knees. Emma whimpered, however, when he didn’t linger on her breasts, and he chuckled.

“Don’t tease me,” she admonished as she yanked on his hair.

He smirked up at her. “I make no promises.” Then he winked as he unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans. As wet as they were, she had to shimmy to help him slide them off. He grasped her hips and kissed her navel, then took the waistband of her panties in his teeth and slid them off too.

He wasn’t through teasing her, however. As soon as she was completely naked, he rose and grabbed the quilt. He wrapped it around her and brushed her lips with a chaste kiss.

“Better?”

Emma debated just dropping the quilt from her shoulders, but she was too curious about what else he had planned. His teasing was driving her insane, but it was also a huge turn on. Still, she couldn’t help kissing him roughly, dragging his lower lip between her teeth.

“A little,” she finally answered, “but is that the best you can do?”

She yelped when he suddenly scooped her up in his arms and then deposited her gently on the blanket in front of the fire. “Patience, love. I’ve waited too long for this to rush it.”

Heat rose to her cheeks, and it wasn’t from the fire. She tilted her head up at him. “Can I make one request?”

“Anything.”

“I think you’re overdressed.”

He clearly understood her meaning as a smile lit up his face and he quickly began undoing his own buttons. Emma couldn’t help licking her lips as she watched his shirt fall away, that chest hair that always teased at the top of his shirts on full display. Then he peeled his own tight jeans off, then his boxer briefs, and his arousal for her was on clear display. Her heart beat faster in her chest at the sheer masculinity displayed before her. God, he was a beautiful man! How had she kept him so firmly in the friend zone all these years?

She said nothing, merely opened the large quilt for him to come and join her. They lay down before the fire, wrapped up together in the warmth. As he caressed her and kissed her deeply, Emma had never felt so content and full of want at the same time.

***********************************************************

Emma blinked her eyes open, the only sound in the room the crackling of the fireplace. Killian’s arms were still wrapped around her. She glanced up to find that he had fallen asleep, too. She took the moment to run her hand along his arm, feeling the strong muscle beneath her palm, then to drag her fingers gently through his chest hair. They were both still naked, but they hadn’t yet made love. They had pleasured one another in other ways – Killian hadn’t been kidding when he said he wanted to take his time – and then in the drowsiness and warmth had drifted off. Emma rolled over to prop herself up on Killian’s chest.

“Babe,” she whispered, tracing his jaw gently with her fingertips. His eyes blinked open and he smiled drowsily at her. “We fell asleep.”

“Aye,” was all he said. Then he tilted his head up to look at her wonky tree. “I suppose it’s dry by now,”

Emma scratched lazily at his chest hair, giving him a coy grin. She shifted higher, the feel of her bare breasts against his chest hair sending a buzz right down to her core. She thought to say something flirtatious, but when her eyes met his, she couldn’t string words together. So instead she kissed him. Lazily at first, and then with aggression. She could feel his body responding beneath her. His hands drifted down her back, then grasped her hips. Words failed him, too. He rolled her over, and that conveyed everything.

**********************************************

An hour later, they lay sated and content on their backs amongst the piles of blanket, looking up into the boughs of the Christmas tree. Killian’s fingers traced lazy patterns on her shoulder. Emma breathed in deeply, a gesture of contentment, and the smell of pine filled her senses.

“You know,” she said softly, “you were right. A live Christmas tree is really beautiful.”

Emma enjoyed the feel of his responding chuckle against her cheek. “We haven’t even put the lights on it yet.”

She rolled over to cup his cheek, her thumb tracing the scar beneath his right eye. “Why don’t you come back tomorrow night, and we’ll decorate it then?”

He smiled as he threaded his fingers through her hair. “Alright, love, I’ll be here tomorrow night.” Then he pulled her down for a kiss that curled her toes.