At age 28 Emma Swan knows she hasn't done many things right in her life but her son is definitely in the 'knocked it out of the part' category.
She is not sure how much credit she should be given though. Emma thinks she has raised Henry well, better than she expected, certainly better than she thought she would back when doubting whether she should do it at all. But there's only so much positivity and imagination Emma could install into someone. And her kid has definitely surpassed her capacity for both.
And like the bright and joyful child that he is, Henry is absolutely obsessed with Christmas.
A part of Emma dreads every 1st of December just because she is sure one morning she'll wake up and find herself on the North Pole. So far she simply finds herself in an apartment awash in the sounds of Christmas's best hits. By the end of the first week of that long-awaited month she lives among dwarves of all materials and sizes, has gingerbread men and candy canes falling on her every time she reaches for the cinnamon and is constantly illuminated in some combination of red, green and gold.
How Henry developed such an affinity for the holiday with Emma's not-quite-a-Grinch-but-definite-Scroogy-undertones attitude, she will never know. Mostly she likes to blame it on kindergarten and school teachers like Miss Blanchard and Miss French. If she didn't know better, she'd think them related to Santa himself.
But Henry sweeps her along in his excitement like he always does and she has every bit of space on the surface of their fridge covered in drawings of the two of them building snowmen, hanging lights, reading by an imaginable fireplace (that she has promised herself to look for when their lease is up), decorating the Christmas tree, baking cookies and every other cliché in the holiday book.
All of that should explain why she is willing to do pretty much anything to make sure Henry has whatever his pure, believing, little heart wants for Christmas.
Of course, there are some things her son has without a doubt inherited from her. Like the ability to make Emma's life as difficult as possible.
While every kid and their awesome aunts and uncles are obsessed with superheroes and everything to do with them, racing each other to buy comics, rubber hammers and plastic light-sabers, ordering Marvel DVDs and booking cinema tickets months in advance, Emma Swan is standing in front of a shelf with heavy, leather-bound, luxurious editions of New Tales From the Old Forest and hoping beyond hope that Killian fucking Jones gets a new book out before Christmas starts really breathing down her neck.
/
"Mom! Mom, you won't believe it!"
Henry climbs onto one of the bar stools at their kitchen counter with a little difficulty and Emma glances at him with a wary smile as she stirs her bolognese sauce.
"Don't rock on the chair, Henry."
"The chair is rocking itself. This is so big, mom!"
"Is it now?" Emma reaches for the oregano and listens carefully, not giving anything away until she has heard all the details.
Knowing her son, kind soul extraordinaire, she might accidentally adopt a crocodile, if she isn't careful.
"Yes! I know what I want for Christmas!"
Now Emma's ears really perk up and she turns down the heat on the stove so she can turn around, leaning one hip on the counter and giving the boy her full attention.
"Has Mr Jones given Cinderella a shotgun in this one?" she asks, quirking an eyebrow.
"Mom," Henry groans in undisguised embarrassment, dropping his forehead on the counter like the overdramatic little diva he is. "Cinderella already got a shotgun in the sixth book. Plus, the new book doesn't come out until March."
"Then what's the big news?"
"He's coming here! He's gonna be signing in New York on the 21st!"
Henry's whole face is alight with joy and Emma feels both happiness at his enthusiasm and an uneasy sense of apprehension settle in her stomach.
She knows how much Henry loves these books, knows that Killian Jones is little less than a god in the eyes of her ten-year-old son. She also knows that idealizing someone never ends well. Unless they are never given the chance to disappoint you. So Emma was entirely too content with her son having a male role model that will never get to let him down, hurt him or disillusion him in any way.
It seems she was wrong.
"Alright. But, Henry, it might be a private event or-"
"It's not! It's in the bookstore right across from Granny's and it's totally free and you don't even have to have a book but, of course, we do."
"Of course."
Having "a book" is a slight understatement. They have all six of Killian Jones' books. In every one of the three editions they've come out in.
"Just let me look into it first, ok?"
"Mom," Henry jumps from the chair and comes to stand before her so the puppy eyes are in full effect when he looks up at her. "This is allI want for Christmas."
It's settled. If Killian Jones disappoints her kid, she's going to kill him.
/
That night she sits down to investigate Killian Jones with all the skill and more distrust than she employs for the worst of her perps. To say she is in for a surprise is another understatement. Killian Jones… is not what Emma was expecting from an author of fairytales, even unconventional ones.
Born in Ireland. Orphaned at 8 (she pictures Henry's puppy dog eyes earlier and something inside her squeezes in the most painful of ways). Tossed from group home to group home along with his brother and "returned" within days whenever someone tried to separate them (she pictures herself this time, remembers the feeling of floating without a compass or any land in sight, pulled and pushed by forces beyond your control). Separated from his brother regardless when the latter came of age. Got out of the system at 14 when said brother was finally declared fit to be his guardian. Worked (not entirely legally) at the docks for three years. Supposedly started working on the first book of New Tales from the Old Forestduring that time. Joined the Royal Navy along with his brother at 18. Lost brother in the Navy (she feels her stomach drop and takes a deeper gulp of hot chocolate, considers bringing out something stronger). Moved to America, Maine. Worked at the Storybrooke library for two years while working on NTOF. Published his first short story in a local newspaper at 22. Moved to New York at 23. Got engaged to one Milah Sawyer. Published his first NTOF book in 2010 at 25. Lost fiancé and left hand to a drunk driver two weeks after becoming New York Time's best-selling author. Dropped off the face off the earth (even Emma's research skills turn out to have their limits). Resurfaced a year later in Michigan. Worked at the docks in Michigan for a year and a half, rumoured drinking problems. Shook the literary circles with the second and third NTOFbooks in 2013 (critics described them as 'two shades too dark', Emma rolls her eyes, thinks 'No shit, Sherlock' and marvels at the fact that the guy is still writing fairytales). Regained best-selling status in under a month. Continued to publish a new book in the series every year, while maintaining a low social profile. Sponsored the opening of a new library in Storybrooke. Donates 20% of his profits to orphanages all over the world. Created a program for young sailors in his brother's name. Did one world tour in 2015 and a dozen or so signings overall in America.
And now he is coming back to New York and has, completely without his knowledge, managed to keep Emma Swan awake until 4am on a week night and make her almost as excited as her son to see him in person.
Oh, yeah, he also looks drop dead gorgeous on all his photos and charming as hell in all the videos she finds of him at premieres and signings.
/
Emma takes the first book on her next stakeout and almost misses her guy while reading about the bandit ways of a Snow White who can give Robin Hood a run for his money.
She is 40 pages into the second one and thinking how badly she wants to punch Captain Hook in his smug pretty face when smoke starts rising from the oven. She calls out to Henry that they're having Chinese tonight and makes sure to bookmark her page before she goes to put out the potential fire.
She tries to concentrate on the new episode of Modern Family for the first 10 minutes before cursing herself, setting her DVR and reaching for the book that holds the fate of the most devious version of Peter Pan she has ever seen.
"One time thing, my ass."
When Saturday comes, she asks Henry what he wants to do and almost fistpumps the air when he says he's invited to a sleepover. She doesn't though. She loves her kid. But she does end up buried under three blankets, with damn gingerbread crumbs in her bed and a cup of hot cocoa on the nightstand, consuming Killian Jones' fourth book in under 6 hours. Her eyes hate her.
It snows on Sunday. Henry binges the first four Harry Potter movies. Emma may or may not cry her way through the New Tales from the Old Forest V.
She closes the last book at 2am on a Wednesday and starts for Henry's room before she realizes he has been asleep for hours. So she opens her laptop and googles all the details about Killian Jones' signing in one week instead.
/
Henry is ready to start chipping away her patent "let me look into it" the very next morning. He shovels cereal in his mouth as quickly as possible so they don't have to hurry for school and he can have plenty of time to plead his case. Then, as he is grabbing his backpack, he sees her put the first New Tales from the Old Forest book in her own bag and he hesitates. He knows his mom, he knows she will never deny him something that will make him so happy. And yet. He also knows that sometimes pushing is not the way. He knowshow great NTOF is and how awesome Killian Jones must be and he thinks maybe maybeshe can enjoy it too. Maybe she doesn't have to take him just because he begs it of her. Maybe she will want to go.
So Henry decides to play a long game. Well, alright, a week-long game. He can give her a week.
The next day he runs into the kitchen for Chinese when he hears the doorbell ring and doesn't fail to spot the next book on the sofa, his mom's frayed red bookmarker sticking out of it. He fails to hide his grin though.
On Friday she comes into his room to tell him it's time for bed half an hour after it was time for bed and he can see the red mark on her nose from where she has been pushing her reading glasses up. She presses a kiss to his forehead and tells him he's growing up so fast.
She narrates all her usual warnings and instructions as she's driving him to Grace's sleepover party but somewhere in between them her thoughts seem to drift off and she asks if they have any hot cocoa left. As if they ever run out.
Jefferson drops him off on Sunday and he watches his mom flush slightly at being found in her pajamas and smile tiredly in thanks before she guides him towards the kitchen, asking if he had any breakfast as she puts on the coffee pot, yawns and rubs at her eyes.
When he comes into the kitchen for breakfast on Thursday she pushes a plate of pancakes towards him, leans her elbows on the table, winks at him conspiratorially and asks if he thinks Miss Blanchard will mind, if he skips the last class next Wednesday so they can get in line at Enchanted Booksearlier.
He fistpumps the air and drags her into a hug that puts her hair in the blueberry jam but she doesn't seem to mind.
/
Killian smiles at the little boy before him and leans as far down as the big wooden desk will allow him.
"And what's your name, lad?"
The kid smiles so wide Killian thinks his dimples will never let up after this.
"Roland!"
"And do you have a favourite character, Roland?" Killian inquires with a smile and makes sure to keep eye contact with the boy, while he twists his usual inscription a bit to make it more personal.
"Uh-ha. Robin!"
"Robin Hood. The noble thief. Good choice, if somewhat naughty. Don't worry, I won't tell Santa," he whispers and winks at the man standing behind the boy.
"Just like daddy!"
Killian gives the "daddy" an inquisitive, amused look at that.
"He means our names, not… professional choices," the man, Robin apparently, elaborates with a chuckle.
Killian laughs and waves at him to give him the other book they've brought as well. Regina, usually quick to scold him for asking more than one question and signing more than one book per fan, is uncharacteristically, suspiciously, quiet on his left and he intends to take full advantage of it.
Glancing at his manager, Killian finds her not distracted and tapping away on her phone, as he expected, but apparently won over by the twin set of dimples before him.
Killian's faith in magic and True Love and happy endings is far from what it used to be when he first moved to the States but one can't exactly write fairytales for a living, albeit modern ones, and not preserve some spark of hope and belief in his heart. So with a devious smirk at his manager and a speedily constructed plan, he turns to Robin with a serious, 99% professional expression. A percent of the deviousness he finds himself unable to purge. He gives the man's fingers a quick scan and proceeds.
"Speaking of professional matters, we are currently casting the characters for the first movie. I believe we are having some trouble finding a Pinocchio."
Regina makes some sort of choked sound behind him and it is the most ungraceful thing he has ever heard from her. Which cracks his professional façade just a tad. Deviousness at 10% now.
"I know child acting is not to all parents' taste but my manager could give you her number and perhaps we could send you the audition details, if you're interested."
He watches Robin's eyes widen in surprise and then shift to Regina and then… well, Killian might be a bit rusty in the romantic department but he is sure that a stare fest like that is one for the ages. So he turns his attention back to little Ronald who has been rummaging through his backpack, oblivious to Killian's scheming, and is now shoving a drawing of what appears to be a Robin Hood with a bow twice his size in his face.
"Why, that's quite impressive, lad. Would you like me to sign it?"
The boy shakes his head, curls flying everywhere and dimples flashing again and damn, Killian doesn't know about Regina but he sure has been won over twice by now.
"For you."
"It's for me?"
The eager nod and the thought of having something to hang on his fridge thugs on his heart strings and he finds himself clearing his throat before speaking again.
"Then I believe you should sign it for me."
Roland looks beyond thrilled to take over as the star and Killian hands him his golden pen all too eagerly, instructing him to keep his wild scribble of a signature to the right corner of his drawing.
"Why, thank you," he grins and takes back the pen when it looks like Roland will by quite willing to sign the desk as well. "I think your dad will be happy to get you a hot chocolate or something equally delicious now."
He turns to look at the father in question who has moved closer to Regina so they can awkwardly exchange numbers with the pretext of formal arrangements that sound more fictitious than anything he's ever written.
"Oh, yes, of course! Come, Roland."
Killian watches the boy bounce over the few feet to his father and grin up at Regina with all the cuteness that melted his own heart. His manager proves just as helpless to his charms and kneels down in her five-inch heels to shake his little hand.
Killian turns with a chuckle to thank the patient person that waited for that whole fiasco to play itself out without a word or throat clearing of complaint.
"That was awesome!"
The boy, about twice Roland's age, beams up at him as if he just moved a mountain and didn't simply sign a couple of books and play questionably successful match-maker. But Killian is delighted to encounter another enthusiastic kid so he smiles right back, wide and genuine. Until his eye catches the hand on the boy's shoulder and moves up a leather clad arm to take in one of the single most stunning women he has ever had the good fortune of seeing.
He feels his jaw slack just a little bit, no doubt turning his smile a shade idiotic, but finds himself unable to do much about it when confronted with the brown-haired ball of energy and the guardian angel of a woman behind him, who seems to be doing her damnest to suppress a grin and the amused twinkle in her eye and failing rather spectacularly.
"That wasquite the match-making," she teases and he swears his heart stutters for the first time in almost a decade.
/
On the 20th it takes Emma over an hour to put Henry to bed. Giving three solid tries to convincing him that Mr Jones won't be able to sign more than one (maaaybe two, if Emma pretends to be a fan herself, pretends, right) book and then reassuring him twice that she put all three of his favourite editions in a tote bag on the stand by the door, and then finally letting him out of bed to go check himself.
She spends a good fifteen minutes reassuring him that Killian won't cancel the event and silently swears to every god she doesn't believe in that she will hunt the man down and drag him in front of her son with a Santa hat and bells on top, if he doesn't show up.
But her research shows that Killian Jones has yet to bail on any commitment in the last three years and the thought of him in a Santa hat and bells on top and nothing elsejumps unbidden in Emma's mind and has nothing to do with dragging him into her apartment for the benefit of her son.
The day itself Henry spends on cloud nine. Emma has trouble convincing him to at least have a poptart and then she has even more trouble convincing him that queuing at the bookstore from the moment it opens isn't more important than going to school.
He is waiting for her at the school steps and she has barely killed the engine when he is running towards the yellow bug with a grin the size of which she worries might do permanent damage to his face.
Once at the bookstore, he is so excited he is almost trembling and Emma warns him to cool the jacks or she'll have to take him to the doctor instead of Killian Jones. Henry looks so horrified at the mere suggestion that she raises her hands in indisputable surrender.
The atmosphere in the store is magical, pun intended. She has to give it to this guy, he seems to have won over everyone from two-year-olds, that by the looks of their cosplaying parents are being raised with his books, to Granny Lucas herself, who has apparently shut her diner for the day and is making coffee and hot chocolate at a stand just inside the store.
Emma gets a cup but opts out of purchasing one for Henry. With the way the kid's hands are shaking, he'll spill it all over his favourite editions and really get himself a heart-attack.
When they draw near to the centre of the second floor where a neat circle has been cleared out and a desk set up for Mr Jones, Emma begins to catch glimpses of dark hair and a dark blue sleeve. And if she goes on her tiptoes a bit, well, that's her own damn business and anyway she is sure she saw a redhead with a t-shirt that read "Killian Jones owns this princess's heart (and everything else)" so whatever.
They are five people away when she gets a good view of him.
Yup, just as attractive in real life. Perhaps even a little bit more so. What with the quick, purposeful way he signs the books in his hand and the way he tilts his head to the side, as if he's really listening to everyone that comes before him, and the way he licks his lips every few seconds.
He tenses a bit when an overly demanding woman with a hairdo that Emma thinks must be inspired by Cruella DeVil, leans over and wraps her arm around his neck to take a selfie. Emma watches him drop his left arm in his lap from where it was resting on the desk and sketch a polite smile as his manager steps in to ask the overzealous fan to hurry up.
Emma makes a note to keep an eye on the efficient brunette in the killer heels because Henry will certainly be one of those people that need prompting to leave Killian Jones's side.
The little boy in front of them, accompanied by his father, seems almost as excited as Henry and her son, wonderful kid that he is, patiently listens to him babble about his favourite character and answers all his questions about one of the multiple alternative universes in the books.
Then Roland steps up and hefts his book on Mr Jones's desk and Emma watches the action unfurl before her.
Emma has no small amount of trouble reconciling what she knows about Killian Jones with the patiently engaging and sweetly mischievous man a few feet from her. She can almost feel the grudging respect for his talent and rise from the ashes stretch and transform itself into passionate admiration for the unyieldingly kind and wonderful human he appears to be.
He hasn't even said a word to them yet and she is already beyond grateful that her son gets to meet this man.
/
Henry barely restrains himself as he watches Roland get to talk to Killian and he facepalms internally over not thinking to bring him one of his drawings as well. Then he quickly reassures himself that he is too grown up for that.
When he sees the boy move over and shake hands with the woman that seems to work for Killian, he can't contain himself any longer.
"That was awesome!"
Killian Jones looks at him and smiles widely. Then he looks up at his mom and his face reminds Henry of that time Miss Blanchard took them to the animal shelter and the guy at the counter looked up to greet her. He finds it interesting how two completely different faces can wear almost identical expressions.
"That wasquite the match-making," his mom reaffirms.
"I try," Killian seems to pick up his smile again. "True Love can be found in the most unlikely of places and all that."
Killian purses his lips as if he is about to say something more but shakes his head instead and looks back at him, his smile back to its normal, welcoming, put-together shape.
"Hello, lad. What's your name?"
"Hey, I…"
Oh. Oh.
Henry tries swallowing a couple of times. Opens his mouth again but nothing comes out.
Oh.
Killian Jones is waiting to hear his name and he can't make words come out of his mouth.
"Henry?"
His mom's voice sounds above him, confused and a touch concerned. He is about to try saying something to her at least, when Killian gets up and comes around to sit on the ground, leaning his back against the desk he was just sitting at, so that Henry has to look down at him now.
"No worries, my boy. I'm not partial to Rumpelstiltskin's tricks, won't use your name for anything nefarious," he grins and extends his hand. "I'm Killian."
No kidding. Henry wants to say but feels himself smile instead. He swallows one more time and finally manages to convince his vocal cords to work.
"I'm Henry."
"Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Henry," Killian says with a satisfied grin. "I take it you like my books?"
He hears him mom snort above them put pays her no mind. He is talking to Killian Jones.
"Yeah. They… they are pretty great."
That was lame but Killian's grin grows and- Killian Jones shook his hand.
"Do you have a favourite?"
He is talking to Killian Jones.
/
She can say she's not charmed by his match-making ways but why lie to herself?
She can say his eyes are not the most fascinating and magicalblue.
She can say her heart doesn't tremble when Henry's voice catches and he stares at his idol like a deer caught in the headlights.
She can say that same heart doesn't do three subsequent summersaults when Killian Jones sits down at her son's feet and coaxes his name out with the greatest care and patience.
She can say she doesn't practically glow with happiness when Henry suddenly rushes into a lengthy explanation of why the first, third and fifth books are his favourite.
She can say Killian doesn't glow almost as brightly when her son explains how much he wants to become a writer just like himand how excited he is for the first movie even though it can't possibly be as good as the book.
She can say Killian makes her picture Henry with a father figure in his life, just a general father figure, not this precise man, who is looking at her kid as if every word out of his mouth is the gospel truth.
But why lie to herself?
/
Killian ignores the first throat clearing and curses silently. He thought Roland's dimples will buy him more time. Then again, he has been conversing with Henry for a rather long time and has been genuinely engrossed in the talk, even if he keeps sneaking glances at the gorgeous mother, smiling tentatively at the two of them.
The second throat clearing catches said mother's attention and he watches her glance apologetically yet somewhat defiantly at Regina. He backs her up with a completely unapologetic scowl at his manager.
"Well, lad, did you bring any of those favourites for me to sign?"
"Oh, right. Sorry!"
It's Henry's mom that replies as she bends her head to pull the heavy books (his favourite editions) from her tote bag, blonde curls falling in her face. He can't help but smile at the way she blows at them in a futile attempt to remove them from her line of sight.
"Which one, kid?" she says firmly, giving her boy a look that seems to be both warning and beseeching.
He is all too willing to come to her aid.
"Nonsense. You lugged those things here, the least I can do is sign all of them."
He catches a glimpse of Henry's triumphant look and gives him a pseudo-glare for sassing his mother. For her part, the blonde drops down to her knee, joining him on the soft green carpet and leaving Henry towering over the both of them.
"Sorry to take so much of your time," she says following another, louder, throat clearing from Regina.
"You can make amends to my manager, love, but I'm having the time of my life."
She quirks a disbelieving eyebrow at that and he gives her his most winning and sincere smile. Then he grabs the first book and takes his sweet time writing an inscription for Henry, encouraging him in his writing pursuits. He's signing his name when he feels a pang somewhere in the vicinity of his chest at the thought of not seeing those pursuits play out. Killian furrows his eyebrows and thinks he can ask their last name and goggle the kid in a few years. It doesn't quite satisfy him but it will have to do.
He draws a small ship on the next book before signing it but then hesitates when he puts the third one on his knee and holds in down with his stump. He bites his lip and glances up to find two emerald eyes staring back at him.
"Perhaps I can make this one out to you? Mrs…"
He feels a hopeless, unreasonable but thrilling little spark shoot through him as he waits for her answer.
/
Emma swears they have been sitting there, monopolizing Killian's time for a solid 5 minutes now, but every time she even thinks about urging Henry to go, some part of her slaps her upside the head and tells her to enjoy the numbered moments she gets to spend in Killian Jones's presence. His very charming, disarming and completely enchanting presence.
So she listens to herself and watches the way his lashes lower as he bends his head to draw an intricate (absolute adorable who-the-hell-does-that, what-even-is-this-man) little ship on Henry's book. She listens to Henry's excited intake and feels herself sigh and dig her knee deeper into the carpet beneath her. She looks at Killian's broad shoulders and lets her eyes travel down his arm to where his shirt sleeve is tucked around his stump, obviously meant to cover it up. The same part that slapped her over the head seconds ago, wants to tug on his arm and tell him anything that has shaped him into the wonderfully understanding and kind-hearted man he is should not be hidden away. She looks at the strands of hair falling over his forehead and bails her hand into a fist so she doesn't reach out and push them back.
And then she is looking into his blue eyes and-
"Perhaps I can make this one out to you? Mrs…"
She doesn't consider the possibility that he might be inquiring after more than her name like she usually would. She is too busy pretending she wasn't blatantly staring at him. But some blessed part of her (yeah, it's probably the slap-happy part) has the good sense to correct him anyway.
"Swan. Miss Swan. Emma Swan."
She blushes and concentrates all her efforts on not swearing at herself.
"Swan."
He seems to consider it and deem it extremely satisfactory. Then he bends over the book. Once he is done, she expects him to get up and go back behind his desk but instead he reaches back for the second one he signed and adds something to it. Then he hands it back to Henry and finally gets to his feet. Emma is about to do the same when he offers her his hand.
She takes it and tells herself not to use any bodice-ripper clichés. Even if just in her head.
It's kinda hard though. Especially when he brushes his lips over her knuckles after tugging her to her feet.
"It was an absolute pleasure to meet you, Henry," he says with a megawatt smile when he turns to her kid and bends down a little to look him in the eyes and stage-whisper. "I look forward to coming to you for an autograph one day."
He winks at the boy, straightens and gives her one last long look that Emma can't quite read but which bears an inexplicable amount of apprehension and anticipation.
When they finally move away, books hugged to both their chests, his manager looks beyond relieved to see them go and Killian sees off Emma's poorly veiled regret with a bewilderingly hopeful glance.
They are almost to the door when Emma comes to a halt. Henry gives an excited cheer behind her.
"Mom! Look! He drew a swan beside the ship."
She pays him no mind. She is too busy staring at the phone number in the book in her own hands.