#whimsicallyenchantedrose

Emma Swan had never planned on having a big ritzy wedding. Truth be told, she never really planned on having a wedding at all. When you grow up the way she had – constantly moving from foster home to foster home, constantly being abandoned as soon as you started getting attached to someone – you learn people don’t stay. Marriage is a fairy tale every bit as fictional as the story of Snow White and Prince Charming.

But then she’d met Mary Margaret Blanchard, who was as close to Snow White come to life as it was possible to get. And then Mary Margaret met David Nolan, Prince Charming in the flesh, and the two of them had fallen deeply, passionately, irrevocably in love. A year and a half ago, they’d married, and now in about two months when Baby Boy Nolan was born, they’d be a family of three.

Suddenly, Emma realized that lasting love – True Love – was more than just a fairy tale. It was a very real possibility. Then when she met and fell in love with Killian Jones, she’d realized that lasting love wasn’t just for Snow White and Prince Charming. She could have it too.

Oh, it hadn’t all been smooth sailing, of course. When you’ve lived your whole life with high and thick walls around your heart, they don’t get knocked down in a day, but Killian had a way of getting under her skin and showing her that he was in it for the long haul. When Killian loved, he loved for life – and he had finally convinced her that he loved her.

A year and a half ago, just before David and Mary Margaret’s destination dream wedding on St. Simons Island, Georgia, Killian had proposed aboard the Georgia Queen riverboat, and she’d said yes. She, Emma Swan – orphan, lost girl, the one no one ever really wanted – was engaged, and what’s more, she truly believed this was a love that would last forever.

So Emma was getting married. Still, she figured she’d have a simple ceremony – no fuss, no frills, just Killian and her sealing their love with timeless vows before their closest family and friends.

When she said as much to Mary Margaret on one of their weekly FaceTime calls, Mary Margaret had reacted with as much shock, dismay, and confusion as any normal person would if Emma had proposed having her wedding at a nudist colony on Mars.

“Oh, but Emma you can’t just show up some random Wednesday before a justice of the peace at the courthouse! You need a wedding – a real, big, lavish wedding at a church or some beautiful, romantic destination. You deserve it! Besides, I’ve already started planning.”

She’d then proceeded to hoist a five-inch three ring binder, stuffed to the gills, into frame.

Emma groaned. “This is going to give me a months-long, pounding headache with all the preparations and stress, isn’t it?”

Mary Margaret let the tome of wedding preparations fall to the table before her and made a dismissive gesture with her hands. “Don’t worry. The girls and I will help! You won’t have to worry about a thing.”

She’d been so insistent – and so excited – about it all, that Emma had agreed. As for Killian, he’d assured her that all he cared about was becoming her husband. “Swan, if you were to tell me you wanted us to marry on an ice floe in Antarctica, I’d be fine with it,” he said, referencing a conversation between Liam and Emma soon after David and Mary Margaret’s wedding the year before.

And so preparations had begun, and with every passing day – with every new section appearing in Mary Margaret’s binder – the whole affair had gotten more elaborate. Now, only a month from the big day, it felt like they still had a mountain of stuff to do to get ready.

Mary Margaret had been right, though. All the girls in their group had helped with the preparations – well, all but Ruby. “I’m sorry, Emma,” she’d said, eyes red and puffy from crying. “I wish I could be more helpful, but right now… I’m just in a really dark place.”

It was true enough. While most of the couples that had formed two and a half years ago on one of their annual girls’ trips were still going strong – Liam and Elsa married with a six month old daughter they’d named Georgiana Eleanor – Georgie for short, David and Mary Margaret married and expecting, Regina and Robin recently engaged and living together with Roland, Belle and Will not formally committed, but still very much a couple, and of course Killian and her getting married – Ruby and Graham had split up a few months after getting back from David and Mary Margaret’s wedding. With Ruby liking the bustle of New York City and Graham wanting nothing more than nature, peace, and tranquility, they’d decided they simply wanted different things.

It had come as a bit of a shock to the rest of them, but Emma wasn’t entirely convinced the split was permanent. While on the surface, Ruby and Graham’s relationship had always seemed rather casual – built mainly around their sizzling hot physical attraction – Emma knew her friend well enough to know her feelings for the handsome outdoorsman were far more than skin-deep.  She had to believe a reconciliation was still possible.

Emma sighed and shook her head. Her friend’s love life would have to wait. There was still SOOOOO much to do to get ready for the wedding, and with their annual girls’ and guys’ trips – doubling as bachelor and bachelorette parties – falling just a month before the ceremony, there wasn’t a moment to waste.

“Everything okay, Love?” Killian asked as he took the exit off the freeway and waited for the Google Woman to give him further directions toward the Savannah rental home they had all chosen this year.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Emma said. “It’s just….is this trip really a good idea with the wedding a month away? How are we ever going to be ready in time?”

He rolled to a stop at the light, and turned toward her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.  “I know all the preparations have been stressful for you, Love, and that’s why I think this trip is exactly what we need. Besides, I’ve no doubt Mary Margaret has everything well in hand.”

“Maybe she did before,” Emma said, “but now she has baby brain, and it’s hard for her to think beyond the constant nausea and the fact she has to pee every five minutes.”

“Still, we’re right on schedule, and a few days to relax and unwind won’t be amiss,” Killian said, a bit of teasing smolder coming into his eyes. “Besides, we can’t have you so burnt out you’re unable to enjoy the honeymoon. I have some rather steamy plans for the wedding night that will require your full and prompt attention.”

At the subsequent waggle of his eyebrows, she laughed and then leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Don’t worry, Captain,” she said, “I’ll be more than ready to follow your instructions.”

Ten minutes later, they pulled into a parking space in front of their home away from home for the next week – a stately townhouse on historic Jones Street – and Emma determinedly put her wedding planning stress aside.  Killian was right. She deserved a vacation – they both did – and come what may, she was going to enjoy every moment of it.

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

When Belle and Will arrived, it was obvious that something wasn’t quite right between them as they mounted the steps into the rental, their luggage bumping along behind them. Between Will’s jovial nature and Belle’s sweet, peaceable temperament and optimistic outlook, the pair generally had an easy, light air between them. That was not the case as they entered the foyer, though. Unvoiced tension crackled between them as both stood uncertainly in the townhouse entryway; so much so that when Killian greeted them, offering to take one of the librarian’s bags and giving her a hug, he would swear he felt the tenseness in her shoulders.

He nearly asked both of them if they were alright, when Will abruptly announced that he needed the ‘little boy’s room’ after so long in the car and stomped off as soon as his mate pointed him in the right direction. 

For her part, Belle seemed to sense Killian readying a query, and spoke first to cut him off. “So, let me guess. Everyone’s here but Ruby. If she didn’t get to make a fashionably late grand entrance, she’d be disappointed.”

Killian grinned slightly at that, nodding to acknowledge that she was absolutely correct in her estimation. But again, before he could get a word in, Belle prattled on.

“We would have been here sooner; I had the best route from the airport all mapped out…” she trailed off for a second, eyes going a bit hazy with either worry or intense thought – Killian wasn’t sure which – then she shook herself, focus returning, and continued, “but I admit I got in my head about something else, and I wasn’t paying close attention. Will tried to follow my directions, but construction sent us off course, and well…” she shrugged with a helpless sort of ‘what can you do?’ gesture and concluded. “Here we are at last.”

Killian listened, assuring her none of them had been there long and helping her shlep her own and Will’s bags up to the second floor rooms in which they would stay. The whole time he tried to tell himself that all he was sensing was residual frustration over a prolonged and complicated drive, but Belle seemed more troubled than that, something else weighing on her. He also reminded himself not to pry into the other couple’s business. They would work it out, surely, or they wouldn’t have come. At least, he hoped that would prove true; Emma didn’t need anything else to juggle and worry over. Mary Margaret was already about to send his fiancée over the edge with her constant requests and suggestions to “help” make their ceremony “as magical as Emma deserved” – not to mention Liam and Elsa’s constant reminders to stay quiet when little Georgie was napping or that they needed to stick to a proper schedule so the babe wasn’t out of her normal rhythm.

He would have to either wait until one of his friends sought his counsel – or leave Will and Belle to sort out whatever issue they were having for themselves.

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

Some two hours later, when everyone else had arrived, settled their belongings in their rooms, and had gathered in the main sitting area to catch up and coo over slightly fussy but still adorable baby Georgie, Ruby blew through the door with all her usual enthusiasm and flair. Emma could tell it was more than a bit of a brave face her friend was putting on, to look as though she was just the same as always, but it took knowing the other woman as well as Emma had come to over the years to realize a lot of that brazen recklessness was a facade. Calling out a jubilant greeting, Ruby flicked her shining, red-streaked dark hair over her shoulder as she parked her gigantic wheeled suitcase by the bench in the hall and dropped so many bags on the seat that Emma wondered how Ruby had made it up the stairs at all.

Will, who had never hesitated to speak exactly what was on his mind and think about it after, piped up cheekily in response to her greeting. “‘Bout time ya got ‘ere, Red,” he quipped, using his own teasing nickname for her, “The rest of us are nigh to starvin’ from waitin’ on ya.”

Ruby came to stand in the arched entryway to the sitting room, hand on hip in an insouciant pose, unbothered by Will’s jibe. She gave an unrepentant shrug and grinned mischievously, “Hey, looking like this takes time and effort,” she lobbed back. Liam and Elsa rolled their eyes at Ruby’s nonchalance, their attempts at keeping their frustration over Georgie’s upended schedule subtle failing miserably.

Ruby’s carefree attitude disappeared though, when her gaze took in Graham seated on a padded footstool at the far corner of the couch, where she hadn’t noticed him until then. The wide smile that had painted her scarlet lips faltered, and she seemed to sag wearily for a moment, the playful flirtatiousness dissipating in spite of her effort.

It was quick, but Emma could see the corresponding way Graham’s eyes were drawn to Ruby as well. Those big blue eyes warm with frank appreciation, even if it was somewhat clouded by his furrowed brow and the longing that muted the expression painfully. 

“Oh…I thought,” she sputtered, “I didn’t know you were….I didn’t mean…Just…Um…you’re here?”

Graham glanced aside, mumbling something about how he should have stuck to his guns and stayed home this year.

“We asked him here ages ago,” Killian said, “before the breakup; you know we booked the place more than a year ago.”

“And it only has six bedrooms….” Ruby said, the implications suddenly striking her. “That means…”

“I’ll take the couch,” Graham said abruptly, refusing to look at her.

“You don’t have to,” Ruby said. “I can always get a hotel…”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Graham said. “We’re both adults. I’m sure we can handle being under the same roof for four days. I don’t need a bed. I’m used to roughing it. The couch is fine for me.”

“Oh, uh, okay,” Ruby said lamely.

“Well this is like one of those boring Shakespeare tragedies Belle made me read, innit, with all this tension?” Will said. “Except nobody dies. At least not yet.”

Killian reached over and slapped him up the backside of his head. “Will, there is a little thing called tact. Perhaps for your next study session, you could look it up.”

“I was just sayin’ what all of us were thinkin’,” he groused, rubbing his head.

“That’s the problem,” Emma said with an elaborate eyeroll. “You’re always ‘just sayin’ before that tiny lima bean you call a brain thinks better of it. Now, are we going to stand around talking all afternoon, or are we finally going to dinner? You know the rest of the gang is meeting us at the restaurant, and if we keep Regina waiting, she’s going to kill us.”

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

Robin stood and waved as the rest of their party came through the door of The Six Pence Pub, their chosen restaurant for dinner. David, Mary Margaret, Robin, Regina, and Roland had caravanned together from Pigeon Forge and went on to the restaurant instead of the townhouse to procure a table for the very large party. All of the other ladies immediately surrounded Regina to see the three carat diamond ring adorning her left hand while the men offered their congratulations to Robin.

“Oh, Regina,” Emma sighed, hugging her friend tightly, “It’s beautiful. I’m so happy for you.”

Regina smiled softly as they all sat down. “Tell us everything,” Belle urged, the other ladies nodding in agreement.

“You all remember that Robin asked me to move in with him while we were on St. Simons for Snowing’s wedding last year,” she began, using the affectionate nickname Belle had come up with for Mary Margaret and David the year before, referencing their Snow White and Prince Charming personas. “Well, we were celebrating our anniversary with dinner at The Melting Pot in Gatlinburg. It’s Roland’s favorite for a special occasion, and since it was a celebration, Robin made us reservations for their Golden Anniversary 4-Course Celebration. When it was time for the chocolate fondue,” Regina’s smile turned bright and happy as she recounted what happened, “Roland carried the dessert tray, with the ring in the middle of it with our server behind him carrying the fondue. I still don’t know how Robin managed that, they both refuse to tell me.” She shook her head fondly at the man and boy she loved at the other end of the table. “I was so surprised, I almost missed what Roland said.”

“What did he say?” Elsa asked eagerly. 

The look on Regina’s face made Emma’s heart melt a little. It was clear to her that her friend was truly in love with Robin and that she loved Roland as much as if she’d given birth to him herself. Remembering the conversation they’d had two years before about opening their respective hearts to love and happiness, Emma had never been so thankful  that they’d both done so.

“Robin was sliding out of the booth to get down on one knee when Roland burst out. He just couldn’t stand it,” she said, her eyes shining with the memory. “He said ‘Will you marry us, Miss Gina?’”

A chorus of awwwwwws sounded from the ladies around the table, grabbing the attention of the men on the other end just as their server arrived to take their orders. Once he withdrew, Regina smiled at Robin and continued the tale. 

“Robin knelt and picked Roland up to sit on his knee. He said I was the most beautiful woman he’d ever known and he loved me with all his heart. He was so grateful that I’d chosen to be with him, and he wanted to make that permanent. So he repeated what Roland said.” The humor on her face was contagious, and the ladies all laughed before Regina added a quick addendum. “He didn’t call me Miss Gina, of course.” 

Once the laughter died down, Mary Margaret spoke up. “Tell them what you did the next Monday, Regina.”

Four heads turned back toward her. “I filed paperwork to adopt Roland,” she said, her smile full of love and pride. 

Belle clapped her hands excitedly. “Oh, that is perfect,” she gushed, wrapping her arms around Regina. “I’m so thrilled for you.”

“It won’t be final until after we’re married, but he’s already calling me ‘Mama’,” she informed them, the happiness inside her showing in her sparkling eyes and coloring her cheeks. 

“See? I was almost right,” Emma said. “Last year before the wedding, when I said you were the first of us to be a parent. Now it will be legal.”

“Now it will be legal,” Regina repeated.

The conversation between the reunited friends continued as their meals were served and consumed. By the time they were all done, Roland’s eyes were drooping and the baby had been asleep for over an hour. Liam and Elsa were the first to leave to head back to the townhouse, hoping against hope that they’d be able to just put Georgie down without waking her. Not long after they’d left, the rest of the party followed them, knowing the next day would be a long and busy one.

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

Once the entire group returned to the townhouse, the children were put to bed, and the women were either taking showers or already turned in for the night, the men met in the living room to discuss their plans for the bachelor party on Saturday. 

After tentatively agreeing on an agenda, Graham looked at Will, who was sulking at the other end of the sofa. “Alright, Mate, out with it.” 

“Out with what?” 

“We know something is bothering you,” Graham continued. “You act like somebody just kicked your puppy.”

“You’re one to talk,” Will grumbled. “The way you’re moping around here and avoiding Ruby like the plague.” 

“Both of you are wet blankets on the party so far,” Liam admonished. “We’re supposed to be here to celebrate my little brother’s last month of bachelorhood.” 

“Says the man who can’t stay out past nine o’clock because he has to follow the schedule of an eight-month-old,” mumbled David. 

“You’ll find out in a few months how much a baby changes things,” Liam said indignantly. 

“I don’t think I’ll let an infant dictate my entire life.” 

“It does make a difference,” Robin chimed in. “I remember when Roland was born…” 

“Can we please not turn this into a discussion about babies,” Killian interrupted. “I love my niece, but I’ve heard enough about all that to last a lifetime.” 

Liam shot him a disgruntled look, but kept his mouth shut. 

Turning to Will, Robin said, “Graham is right though, Will. You’re not yourself, and although that could be a breath of fresh air, we’re a bit concerned about you.” 

Will glanced around at his circle of friends, then blew out a sigh. “Fine. Well, ya know how Belle is so smart and keeps tryin’ to make me that way, too?”

“Without much success,” Killian quipped. 

Will narrowed his eyes at him, but kept going. “I think she might be gettin’ tired of me and may even be plannin’ to dump me while we’re down here.” 

Various expressions of shock colored all their faces. “What makes you think that?” Robin asked. 

“I went to pick her up for our date the other night and I let myself in, like I usually do,” he began. “She was on the phone in her bedroom, and I accidentally overheard her talkin’ to someone. She was sayin’ how much he means to her and how excited she was to meet him when she got to Savannah.” 

“Did she mention his name?” David asked. 

“I thought she said Professor Fa or La or somethin’ like that,” Will shrugged. “Anyway, he’s somebody really smart, and I’m sure Belle will have much more in common with him than she does with me. I think my days bein’ her boyfriend are numbered.” 

“I’m sorry, I just can’t see Belle doing that,” Liam stated, his brows furrowed in disbelief. 

“He’s right, Mate,” Killian agreed. “That seems completely out of character for her.”

“She’s been actin’ real secretive lately, too,” Will continued. “If I even get close to her laptop, she closes it real quick like she doesn’t want me to see what’s on it.” 

“How did she act when she came out of her bedroom that night and realized you were there?” Robin asked. 

“She just said, ‘Oh, Will. I didn’t know you were here.’ She didn’t seem embarrassed or upset or anything.” 

“You’re probably making a mountain out of a mole hill,” Graham threw in. 

“She hardly had anything to say to me on the way here,” Will said. “The whole flight, she was on her phone lookin’ at somethin’, smilin’ like the cat that ate the hat.”

“The canary,” Liam corrected. 

Will looked confused. “What’s a canary got to do with it?” 

“Never mind,” Liam said, trying to suppress a chuckle.

“Anyway,” Will continued. “When I asked her what was so interesting, she kinda turned the screen so I couldn’t see it. I tell you, she’s plannin’ to break up with me. And after I uprooted myself from Kentucky to move all the way up to Maine, just to be with her. You’d think that would count for somethin’.”

“I still think you’re jumping to conclusions,” Graham said. The others nodded in agreement. 

Will looked at all of them in turn. “I sure hope you guys are right, but my heart’s tellin’ me it’s about to get busted.” 

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

She dunked an admittedly delicious homemade gingerbread man into her coffee, then bit its head off. “I don’t see why he has to be such a show off. It’s not like he can actually win the contest. He doesn’t have his own class, you know? Not really.”

“Maybe he’s just really into Christmas?” Mary Margaret shrugged. “Honestly, I think you may be taking this whole ‘Deck the Halls’ contest a bit too seriously.” 

“Says last year’s winner.”

“Or maybe there’s more to your fixation on Mr. Jones than just this contest?”

“Don’t start. It’s only about the contest. I wanna know what his evil plan is, that’s all.”

Ah, the annual Deck the Halls contest. Every homeroom teacher at Storybrooke was enthusiastically encouraged by the school principal to decorate their classroom door and hallway in festive winter style. The winning teacher’s class got some kind of prize, usually a special field trip. This year, students would be treated to a Polar Express themed ride on Storybrooke’s fully restored historic steam train. The kids could wear their pajamas and drink hot chocolate while they watched the snowy town pass by, and at the end of the ride, they’d get a chance to meet “Santa”. Emma’s fifth graders all seemed to think themselves too grown up for such a thing, but still… A little Christmas magic never hurt anyone.

Mary Margaret finished her tea and gave Emma’s shoulder a maternal pat. “Time to go pick up my little guys from the cafeteria.”

After her friend left, Emma let her gaze drift back to the object of her ire. Mary Margaret was right. Emma was definitely taking the contest too seriously, but that Killian Jones was just so damn infuriating. Ever since he’d transferred - no, swaggered - in from Misthaven Prep, he’d been the bane of her existence. He and his stupidly perfect hair. And his ridiculous flirty comments. And his stupid, ridiculous, unreasonably attractive face. The man may as well have had a banner over his head that read, “I’m sexy and I know it.” 

That was bad enough, but then came the first day of school after Thanksgiving break. Emma walked her class to Mr. Jones’s room for their music lesson to find he’d decorated the entire fine arts hallway to look like a giant gingerbread house with lights, human-sized gingerbread people and enough craft glitter to choke a reindeer. Between that and the caroling and the freaking cookies, how was anyone supposed to compete? 

And Emma really, really wanted to win. She had a competitive streak, sure, but it was more than that. It was-

Oh, crap. He caught her looking. And there he went with the eyes and the smile, and oh god he’s walking over to her. 

“Swan! I noticed you’ve been sampling my goodies. Fancy the flavor?”

Emma bristled. Killian Jones had a unique ability to say perfectly innocent things and somehow make them sound dirty. And also vaguely appealing, but that was beside the point.

“A little bland for my taste,” she lied. “They needed more cinnamon.”

“So the lady likes things a bit spicy. Duly noted.” He grinned at her, eyes alight with mischief. That smile of his was infectious - like the plague, Emma told herself - and she fought against the instinct to return it.

“My spice preferences are none of your business, Jones.” 

“Quite right, Swan.” He glanced downward, seeming appropriately chastised, but it only lasted an instant. He flashed those devilish blue eyes at her again with a wicked smirk to match. “Spicing up your life would be my pleasure, not business at all.”

Emma felt the blush begin to rise up from the back of her neck. It was bad enough that he could make her blush. She sure as heck didn’t want him knowing that.

She managed an unimpressed lift of her eyebrows and muttered something vague about picking up her class, before turning on her heel and exiting the lounge. At a perfectly calm and casual pace, thank you very much. 

—-

Later that afternoon, Emma sat at her desk grading papers. Or rather, sat behind a stack of papers that needed to be graded while staring around her classroom in an attempt to visualize a masterful decorating theme. Ugly Christmas sweater? No, that’d be a hot mess. Frozen? No, Ms. Arendelle the art teacher was already doing that. The Nutcracker? Nope. Mary Margaret won with that one last year. 

A knock on her door shook Emma out of her Grinchy brooding. “Ms. Swan? Can I come in?” Without waiting for a reply, Henry Mills barged in with an anxious smile on his face and a stack of printer paper clutched in his hand. “You said you’d read over my writing sample, remember?”

Emma pushed aside her grading and took the proffered essay. “How’s the scholarship application coming along?”

“The Sisters are doing most of the paperwork for me,” Henry answered. “I just need one more recommendation letter from a teacher and then my essay.”

The “Sisters” meant the nuns who ran the group home where Henry lived. It wasn’t the posh life that most of Henry’s classmates at Storybrooke Prep enjoyed, but the nuns cared deeply for the children in their charge. A better situation at least than Emma ever had during her years in the foster system. 

Emma read through the essay, all about the power of storytelling and how Henry aspired to be an author someday. He was capable of great things, that kid, but he needed the scholarship to pay his tuition so he could continue on at Storybrooke. 

“This is wonderful, Henry. I’m sure the scholarship board will approve you.” 

“Thanks, Ms. Swan.” Henry beamed at her for a moment, then glanced back toward her undecorated door. “Are you going to enter Deck the Halls this year? The judging is on Monday, right?”

Emma narrowed her eyes and leaned toward him as if confiding a secret. “Sure am. I’m just waiting until Monday morning so it’s a surprise.” Yeah, that sounded plausible, right?

Henry nodded, unconvinced. “It’s just that, well, I was really hoping our class could win this year. I’ve never been in a class that won before.” His focus shifted to a chipped spot on the edge of her desk. “I know it’s more for the little kids. I mean, it’s not like I believe in Santa anymore or anything, it’s just…” he picked at the chip making it worse. “The Sisters can’t really afford to take us anywhere, you know? And I thought it might be kind of fun to ride a real steam train and meet Santa just like in The Polar Express.”

He met Emma’s eyes finally. She knew that look. The I-want-to-be-a-part-of-something look. The I-want-to-be-a-regular-kid look. Her heart twinged with the familiarity. That. That right there was why she needed to win this year.

“Don’t worry, Henry. I’ll get you that train ride.”

—-

That Friday after school, Emma hit the local craft store. She bought tinsel and bows, little strings of lights and fake snow spray, garlands and non-breakable plastic ornaments. She even bought a sprig of freeze dried mistletoe for good measure. Come Monday morning, she had every intention of turning her hallway into a winter wonderland. 

As she and Mary Margaret walked to Emma’s classroom Monday morning, their arms laden with shopping bags, it quickly became clear that they were too late. Someone had beaten them to it.

Emma nearly dropped her parcels. “What the hell is this?” 

Wide-eyed, Mary Margaret took a hesitant step toward Emma’s classroom door. “I’d say it’s a train.”

Emma took in the sight before her, the initial shock slowly morphing into anger. Her classroom door had transformed into the front of a huge black steam engine, featuring a smoke stack that nearly reached the ceiling and a cardboard cow catcher protruding out at the bottom. Black duct tape train tracks laid neatly from the door clear to the end of the hallway. Blue butcher paper covered the walls on either side of the door setting a backdrop for a winter forest scene, complete with three dimensional evergreens made from layers upon layers of construction paper and fluffy white batting for snow drifts. Delicate tissue paper snowflakes had been hung painstakingly from the ceiling.

The Polar Express. Someone had turned her classroom - hell, half her hallway - into the Polar Express. It was beautiful. Perfectly executed. Emma hated it. 

She hated it because she didn’t need anyone’s help. She had it under control. Okay, so maybe her craft skills were not in the same league, but she had determination, damn it. Not to mention six bags of tinsel which she now had to shove into her supply closet for next year.

She hated it even more because she had a pretty good idea who the perpetrator was. There were only two teachers in the school capable of that level of Pinterest-worthy crafting, and since Mary Margaret looked as stunned as Emma, that only left Killian Jones. The one thing she couldn’t figure out was why he’d done it. 

“Looks like someone is trying to impress you, Emma,” Mary Margaret said with a sly smile. 

Emma shook her head. She couldn’t deal with her friend’s needling right now. She wanted to storm over to the music room right away and interrogate him, but she knew she needed to cool down first. Rationally, she told herself that the whole reason she became so invested in this silly contest was for Henry’s sake, and these decorations were sure to win. Irrationally, she simply did not want to deal with Killian’s smug, perfect face and whatever double entendre he was sure to throw her way. 

But it bugged her all day. 

Was Jones trying to be some kind of white knight swooping in to save her ass? Well too bad, mister. No one saved Emma but Emma. Did he want two chances to win? That didn’t make sense. As music teacher, he didn’t have a homeroom class so the prize didn’t apply to him. Maybe it was just the bragging rights? That could be. That was way more likely than Mary Margaret’s suggestive suggestion. Wasn’t it? 

She had to stop that train of thought right away before she devolved into the ten year-old mentality of her students and sent him a note: “Do you like me? Check yes or no.” Not that she thought he actually did. Not that she would want him to. It was only a point of curiosity. 

—-

To absolutely no one’s surprise, Emma’s classroom won the Deck the Halls contest. She waved sheepishly at her students as she walked to the front of the school assembly to accept the prize tickets from Principal Hopper, but one look at Henry’s bright smile had her grinning for real. 

As she scanned the crowd, her eyes locked onto another face. Jones’s bright blue eyes met hers with an unreadable expression. Wasn’t this his moment of triumph? Wasn’t he going to claim the glory? She raised her brows in question at him. Was it you? He gave a small nod. Yes. She subtly bobbed her head to the side. Meet me outside. The whole silent conversation only took a couple of seconds. 

After the assembly ended, the students were dismissed for the day. A small group of teachers herded them outside to the bus lanes, but Emma noticed Jones wasn’t among them. Her stomach began to flutter as she ducked out a side door from the cafeteria. She shivered when the crisp December air touched her face and shrugged on her coat, thankful she’d remember to bring it to the assembly with her. Why did she feel nervous? No, she wasn’t nervous, she just wanted answers. Right.

Emma heard the door creak open again, and Jones stepped out clad in a black leather jacket  that couldn’t have been much insulation against the winter chill, but did a marvelous job of framing his broad shoulders and lean torso. He looked… wait, did he look nervous, too? She needed to say something. Anything. Right now.

“What the hell, Jones?” Okay. Solid start. “You hijack my classroom, but you don’t take credit for it. I don’t get it. Did I seem like I needed saving? Because I’ve got news for you, buddy-”

“I didn’t do it for you, Swan,” he interrupted. 

“Then why?”

“I did it for Henry Mills.”

For Henry? Her student? Emma blinked at him, trying to formulate a response to this twist, but all that came out was. “What?”

“I happened to overhear your conversation with him last week. I had written him a letter of recommendation for his scholarship application, and I was bringing it to him when I noticed him going into your classroom. I figured I would wait outside your door until he finished talking to you. I wasn’t eavesdropping exactly, but the door was open.”

“So you heard him talk about why he hoped our class would win. And just what? Took it upon yourself to make that happen?” 

“Aye.” He ducked his head, looking almost shy. “I suppose the lad reminds me a bit of myself. I shan’t go into detail, but suffice to say my childhood was less than idyllic.”

Emma huffed a laugh. “I know the feeling.”

A tiny smile tilted the corner of Killian’s lips. “I thought you might. At any rate, the thing that made my young life bearable was my brother, specifically his insistence that no matter what, we would have a special Christmas. I simply wanted to be able to do the same for young Henry. I apologize if I overstepped, but a bit of Christmas magic never hurt anyone, did it?”

He reached up a hand to scratch at the back of his neck, and that right there did it. The vulnerability of that simple gesture shifted something into place in Emma’s heart. She regarded him for a second longer, looking for any trace that this was an act, but could find none. So, she raised up on her toes, placed her hands on his shoulders and kissed him softly on the lips.

Killian froze at the contact, and Emma was sure she’d made a terrible mistake, but then his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer. He returned her kiss with exuberance, smiling against her mouth. Oh, god she’d never in her life been kissed like this. For all the sin his lips usually promised, this kiss held more joy than lust and an almost unbearable sweetness. His smile lingered even as they separated again.

Emma shook her head in a bit of a daze. “Wow, that was…” He seemed to stop breathing, waiting for her to finish the sentence. “-really unprofessional of me. Sorry.” Emma cleared her throat, but saw Killian’s expression droop. He took a step back.

“Of course. You’re right, Swan. That will ne-”

She reached out and touched his arm, halting his retreat.  “No, what I meant to say was, would you maybe want to get a cup of coffee with me sometime?”

No display of Christmas lights could have been brighter than the way his eyes lit up for her, and Emma thought fleetingly that she could get used to basking in that glow.

“Aye, Swan. I’d love to have coffee with you.”

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