"I've long since come to the conclusion that your world is completely ignorant as to what alcohol actually is but this is the last straw, Swan."
Emma sighs in compassion. If Killian would be just a tad whinier, maybe she would be sighing in annoyance but he has taken to suffering in silence for the most part and she'd do just about anything to alleviate his misery.
It's the day after Christmas, they are snuggled on the couch – Killian's head in her lap and her hand in his hair (the other wrapped around her hot chocolate with her little candy cane sticking out and yes, yes, she went all out so sue her) – the fire (courtesy of a flick of her wrist) is flickering merrily to the sounds of Santa Baby (courtesy of the playlist Killian and Henry designed in the beginning of December) and the house still smells like ginger and sugar (courtesy of their combined efforts to prove to Snow that they aren't completely inadequate in the kitchen) and Emma would be absolutely content, if she didn't know that her True Love is suffering, curled into her warmth out of pain rather than affection.
"I'm sorry. I told you eggnog is tricky," she says, cringing and rubbing his neck and trying really, really hard to ignore the ideas that pop in her head when he rubs his nose against her inner thigh like that.
Any other day she'd think it impossible for him to be doing that unconsciously but she's pretty sure sex is the last thing on Killian's mind right now.
Christmas note: curse eggnog and all holiday beverages!
"Your father seemed to think it 'the greatest invention since sliced bread', which is a 'miracle' whose greatness, I must say, I still fail to perceive."
"It's just an expression," Emma huffs out a laugh, patting him on the head and receiving an indignant little grunt.
"I'm not a newborn pup, Swan!"
"Oh, but being treated like a newborn kitten you have no problem with," she laughs, scratching him behind the ear and letting his involuntary almost-purr prove her point for her. "I'm pretty sure David is not feeling too fresh this morning either."
"Dave's misery does not compensate for the morning I had," grumbles Killian. "I wouldn't have believed that I can rid myself of all the food we inhaled yesterday in a mere hour, if I didn't experience it personally."
Emma cringes and leans down to kiss Killian's brow.
Christmas note: pirate and eggnog don't mix. At all.
"I still don't get why you drank so much of the stuff," she says, pulling back and smoothing her hand over his still slightly sweaty hair.
Killian mutters something into the softness of her PJs.
"What?" asks Emma, tugging lightly at the hair on the back of his neck.
"I was trying to adopt your holiday traditions, love," he says, peaking up at her and shrugging almost sheepishly.
"By getting trashed on eggnog with my dad?" she asks, amusement and slight confusion mixing in her teasing tone.
Killian huffs a little and reaches up to tug on the end of her ponytail. Emma smiles at the gesture and almost misses the way he bites his lip, eyes flickering away from hers. Almost.
"Was that not what I was supposed to… umm, partake in?"
His hand falls back down in order to scratch behind his ear and Emma frowns at him.
"Killian?"
"I thought… all your holidays seem to have an overall theme of over-indulgence and… well, your father kept filling my and Robin's glasses and-"
"No, I know. But you know that you didn't have to drink all that eggnog, right?"
"I was just…" he trails off and Emma swears his ears flush a little.
"Trying to fit in," she finishes for him.
"Aye," he chuckles a little self-deprecatingly. "But alas me and your holiday beverages are just not meant to be it would seem."
"Killian, look at me."
Emma grabs his chin gently, tugging so that he has to look at her. She meets his slightly embarrassed look with a smile, thumb stroking his cheek and tapping his nose a few time until he rolls his eyes at her and gives her an exasperated look.
"Are you listening?" she asks, her smile turning a bit teasing.
"That I am, love, but your better make this quick before your blasted eggnog sends me off to the lavatory again."
She rolls her eyes at him this time before growing serious again, tightening her hold on his chin.
"Killian. You don't have to… fit yourself to all those Christmas traditions," she scrunches up her nose, shaking her head as if the mere thought was ridiculous. "They have to fit you."
The brunet furrows his brows in confusion and Emma grins at him shakily, leaning down and resting her forehead against his.
"You and me and Henry. We'll pick the traditions we like, throw away the ones we don't… make new ones. They have to fit us, babe."
Killian's eyes search her face and Emma is not really sure what he is looking for but she is willing to give him anything and everything so she just leaves herself open for him to roam and take what he wants and needs.
"So… perhaps no eggnog?" Killian asks, half-earnest, half-teasing and she wants to laugh and kiss him at the same time.
So she does both. At the same time.
"No eggnog."