25 Days Christmas Challenge||Day 1: Character A and Character B, sworn enemies, are chosen to prepare the company Christmas Party.

"Pirates."

"Excuse me?"

Her eyes don't boggle. Not exactly. But the message in them is plain to see anyway – you are a nutjob.

"I said 'Pirates', Swan," he actually has the gall to roll his eyes at her after doing little more than hissing out her name.

And everyone knows the eyeroll is her patent move. His is… the stupid eyebrow thing.

Like you can literally tell what he is thinking by the way his freaking eyebrows move. When he is amused but trying to hold in his laughter, it's this gradual, semi-seductive, semi-impressed arch. When he is annoyed, it's this sharp thing, his eyebrow spiking in the middle, fast and unforgiving. When he is genuinely worried or offended, it's this slow, barely there twitch, almost like he wants to keep his face completely frozen and impassive but the damn thing doesn't listen even to him. And when he is being an ass, plain and simple, it's his wiggly, taunting and fluid motion that drives Emma up the bloody wall. The others she has seen on occasion but that last one, some deity above help her, she has to deal with that every time she sees him.

"I heard what you said, Jones," she makes sure to enunciate his name as clearly and evenly as possible, just to show that she not petty enough to hiss at him. "I just decided to give you a chance to realize how fucking ridiculous it is on your own."

Alright, so maybe she is a little petty.

"Oh, I see. Of course. And what brilliant ideas does Her Pretentiousness have exactly?"

At this Emma has to close her eyes for a solid 5 seconds. She has to count those seconds, breathe them in and remind herself that once upon a time she didn't want to strangle Killian Jones. Once upon a time she actually quite liked him.

/

4 months earlier

He is… well, he is damn nice is what he is.

It's a weird way to describe her newest co-worker. Thing is that Killian Jones is obviously one of the hottest humans on the face of the planet. Like, it's not even up for discussion. Emma, Mary Margaret and Belle were all unanimous on that one and that was saying something, seeing as Belle has been playing for the other team for years now, MM has been madly, blindly, sickeningly (Emma liked to pretend they didn't melt her heart daily, ok?) in love with David for even longer than that and Emma… well, Emma would rather never have another hot cocoa in her life than admit that a man had made her stare with her mouth hanging slightly open.

But Killian Jones had.

He had strolled into their bakery one day, not only unrealistically attractive but also with his guitar and his genuine smiles and his compliments and his flirtatious-but-somehow-not-sleazy pet names. And the rush hour was in and they were really struggling and he just rolled up his sleeves after his interview and started helping even though MM told him he wasn't hired yet and he wouldn't be paid for it and it wouldn't guarantee him the job. And he stayed until closing time, when the boss had long since been picked up by her Prince Charming and serenaded Emma and Belle while they put everything in its rightful place.

And he just… he was so genuinely nice. Which was why Emma had been fooled into admitting all the other stuff he was. Out loud. Over drinks with the girls.

Yeah, she had made a right fool of herself.

/

"It's a Christmas party, smartass. Not many pirates going around sharing their treasure in December."

There is the amused/impressed arch but he is trying real hard to suppress it. Actually she can literally see the battle in his eyes (no, she is not gonna talk about his eyes, thank you very much).

He seems to lose.

"Well, why not?" he sighs eventually, almost on the wrong side of whiney and obviously bother by whatever he is about to say. "That's… that actually does sound like a brilliant idea. Instead of a Santa we get a pirate Captain. Not a Jack Sparrow, mind you, more the good classic stuff. Captain Hook maybe. A far more stylish red coat, you must agree."

He looks so damn giddy at the very idea that she can't keep in a chuckle, no matter how hard she tries.

It's just so damn unfortunate. To this day Emma Swan has no idea why Killian Jones hates her.

/

3 months and 2 weeks earlier

Mary Margaret was mostly looking for a person to help Belle handle the weekends. Since Emma firmly refused to work on days meant solely for lazing around in your pyjamas. But for his first two weeks at Snow White's Bakery (yeah, don't get her started) Killian needs some guidance and supervision so he works during the week and often happens on the same shift as Emma.

Those are the two most flustered weeks of her life and she works in a bakery.

And, damn it all, if they are not two of the best weeks of her life as well.

He is good with a ball of dough. He is even better with customers. Especially with little kids. Especially with females of all ages but Emma prefers to focus on the former.

He is merciless in his teasing except when he isn't, when she is flushed (not in a good way) and tired and quarrelsome and he zips it and just works his ass off so the crowd can disperse and she can breathe easily again.

He is thoughtful in the way he doesn't use the top shelves they've never filled because none of the girls can actually reach them.

He is funny and he has damn good taste in music. (She loves Belle and MM to death but if she has to listen to one more Mariah Carey playlist…)

His smile is kinda the sweetest thing she has seen and again she works in a bakery for Heaven's sake!

So Emma lets herself smile too and laugh and tease and flirt for two weeks. Throwing caution to the wind because it has been a damn long time since she felt so sure about someone.

She really should've known better.

/

"Look," Emma sighs and finally opens her eyes. "Can we just cut the crazy pirate talk and discuss how we are gonna organize a small, no-fuss, no-glitter Christmas party for our colleagues and distributors and their families and plus whatevers and just go home? Sitting here at 9pm, refuting your ridiculous ideas isn't exactly my idea of a good Friday night?"

"Well, that's no secret to anyone," he mutters darkly and it's the slight, hurt twitch this time.

"Excuse me?"

"Forget it, Swan. How about you write down what you want to do and I'll make sure to execute it according to your instructions. You've been here longer, you know those people better. I can't comprehend why Mary Margaret –

"No. No. You're not just brushing this off again."

"Brushi-"

"I don't have a damn clue why you hate me so damn much but I sure am not gonna let you make it out as if it's somehow my fault!"

"I- what?"

He looks so utterly bewildered, under any other circumstances Emma might have found it funny. And then-

"Why the bloody hell would you think I hate you?"

/

About 3 months ago

When Killian's basically as 'in tune' with the bakery's workings as any of them, MM schedules him to do what she always intended for him to do. Cover weekends with Belle.

And for the first time ever Emma considers getting up at the crack of dawn on a weekend to bake pretzels and muffins.

She is about to ask MM what the weekend schedule is like on a slow Tuesday when her boss comes into the kitchen gushing about how sweet Killian was. Apparently she was greeted by a bundle of daisies and a new cupcake recipe on Monday morning.

Emma smiles, an almost proud little quirk of her lips. She is well aware of how cute Killian Jones can be.

But next week Belle seems to be giving her strange looks and it takes her two days to tell Emma that Killian left two concert tickets for her, apparently accompanied by a rather gentlemanly note requesting her company.

Emma smiles, although a bit uncertainly. Killian and Belle are friends. Maybe she was hoping that once their shifts didn't overlap, he'd seek her company in different ways. But, hey, people could have more than one friend. Yet… she postpones asking MM about the shifts.

Monday she comes in to take over for MM and sees her rushing out, saying she and David are going to grab lunch with Killian. Gentlemanly notes and sweet recipes and all that.

It's nice. Lovely, really. It's never for her.

It takes two weeks for Emma to see Killian again but in that time she has heard plenty. But she is willing to accept that after all the time they spent together at first, he was just trying to bond with his other coworkers.

But Killian comes in on a Friday and looks surprised to see her there and avoids her eyes and smiles at Mary Margaret instead. And that's when all her bullshit, that Emma had been trying so hard, so hard dammit, to keep at bay, hits her full force.

And she'd managed to delude herself for weeks. Idiot.

So when he says 'Hi', she says 'Oh, hey, forgot you worked here' and when his hurt looks turns into a snarl/smile thing, she thinks good riddance and doesn't mourn the smile of Killian Jones. Not at all.

/

"Well, don't you?" she almost shouts at him and intends to stop there (she really, really does, she really wants to stop there) but he just looks at her with his mouth slightly open, dumbfounded and lost and it makes her so mad. "It just kinda sends that message, you know? Never speaking to me again once you didn't have to. Never asking me to your stupid gigs or- Not that I want to go-"

"Yes, I'm well aware, Swan. Perhaps you should consider that's why I don't invite you? Because I got the message loud and clear that you didn't want to."

"What message? You never even asked?"

Killian's eyes grow to what she would have consider dangerous proportions and he takes a step towards her, seems to almost choke on what looks very much like indignation.

"I never- Are you completely daft?"

"Excuse me?"

"No, I'm done excusing you tonight, Swan!" and now he is not indignant, he is downright angry, and right up in her face. "You know, I'm not a bloody idiot. And I'm also not a caveman. I can take no for an answer. I just like to be actually given that answer. Not mocked."

"Wh-what?"

"You could've simply told me not to bother you but you decided to make a fun little game out of it, didn't you? Send your friends to jerk me around and see how long you could keep it up?"

"What are you talking about?" she outright yells because he is making no sense whatsoever.

"You know what I don't get. How you got Belle and Mary Margaret to play along 'cause I sure as hell know those women don't have a mean bone in them and-"

"Play along with what?! Jones, what the ever-loving fuck are you talking about?"

"I…" for the first time since he'd stepped nose-to-nose with her he seems to be at a loss for words, fuming still, no mistaking that, but perhaps too damn agitated to form actual words. "Everything!"

"What everything?"

"The flowers, the notes, the tickets. I mean," he runs a shaky hand through his hair and the fight seems to drain right out of him with one last, not-at-all-well-suppressed twitch of his stormy brows. "Maybe I overdid it and it would've been fine if you'd just told me to back off but… Bloody hell, Emma, sending other people in your place was just… I didn't rightfully know what I'd done to get a slap like that."

"What… I… You did those things with Belle and MM. Not with me!"

Killian frowns and looks at her like he is tempted to drag her to a hospital to get her checked out. She is damn tempted to do the same. To him.

"No. I… They were for you… How-"

"How were they for me when I wasn't there?!"

"What do you mean you weren't there?"

"Well, jeez, Killian, if you wanna leave flowers to the girl that opens up on Tuesday maybe not leave them for the girl that opens up on Monday!"

"But we… we always opened on Monday…"

"No, we… Oh!"

Emma's eyes widen with horror and her hand flies to her mouth and she thinks she might be about to scream or cry but instead – she laugh. Admittedly, a hysterical sort of thing that has nothing to do with her real laugh but… for some reason she can't stifle the ludicrous giggles.

"Oh. My. God."

"Yeah, that's what I meant about the mocking," mutters Jones and he is half way to the door by the time she manages to get herself together and run after him and fix this whole bloody mess.

"Wait! Killian, wait, dammit!" she grabs his elbow and spins him around and he grunts in protest but turns anyway.

She is really, really sorry for the fact that she can't stop her mouth from twitching up every two seconds but hey! Maybe Killian Jones doesn't actually hate her and she just found out so Emma thinks she can be excused this one more time tonight.

"We switched schedules," she says, evenly, almost gravely, staring him straight in the eyes.

"What does-"

"No," she honest to God slaps a hand to his mouth and if he didn't look so damn offended, she might have time to think about how warm his mouth is under her palm. "Killian, just shut up for a second and let that sink in. After you started working weekends, the girls and I switched around our schedules."

They stand like that, five feet from the door, less than a foot from each other, her hand over his mouth and her eyes boring into his and her mouth trying not to let on what she is hoping for with its stupid twitching.

"So B-"

Emma moves her hand when Killian tries to speak again, quick but not quick enough not to feel the puff of his breath against her skin.

"So…" he clears his throat, scratches behind his ear, shakes his head as if he is still trying to assimilate the new information and Emma is getting kinda tired of this whole little dance when he finally find his voice again. "So, you're telling me that, Belle showed up to Panic! at the Disco because she thought I left the tickets for her?"

"Correct."

"And Mary Margaret kept thanking me for brightening up the place and bringing new ideas for the kitchen and kept bringing bloody Dave to lunch because-"

"She thought those flowers and notes were for her, correct," she can't help it, she snorts and it would've turned into full fledged laughter if she didn't catch the look in his eyes.

Still confused as hell. Lost, for sure. But also, now, finally, again, yearning.

"But they were for me."

"They were for you."

And Killian Jones smiles at her for the first time in almost three months. And honestly? It feels like seeing the sun for the first time after a frigid winter.

"Ever heard of leaving a name, Jones?" she tries to glare at his smile but it's too late now, it has thawed her completely.

"I did. Mine. Thought…" he ducks his head at that, scratches at his neck but doesn't stop smiling, not really. "Thought I'd be discreet and not write yours in case someone else found it."

"Well, someone else did."

"Bloody hell, Emma, why would I send Mary Margaret flowers?"

"I don't know! Why didn't you tell her they were for me?"

"I thought you knew! I thought you were just using Belle and Mary Margaret so you wouldn't have to tell me 'no'. I… I didn't want to ask them and make even more of a fool of myself."

"That worked like a charm."

"Well, you didn't look too damn pleased to see me when I finally decided to come and ask you in person now, did you?!"

"Because at that point I thought you wanted to hang out with everyone but me!"

"How-"

"No, no," Emma shakes her head and raises her hands in a sigh of defeat. "Let's just… I'm sorry. Ok? I'm sorry you thought I was mocking you. And blowing you off. In a really roundabout and quite ridiculous way but… yeah. Sorry."

She takes a deep breath and looks at him and it's the amused twitch again and that's a good sign, right? The little smile is giving her some hope too.

"I'm sorry you thought I didn't want to spend time with you. I truly did," he says sincerely but-

"You did?"

"Indeed."

"No, I mean, you did. But now…"

"Now I'm absolutely famished," he says moving back towards the door and opening it.

And, well, that's that then. Emma Swan has been thwarted by the universe's sick sense of humour once again. At least he doesn't hate her anymore.

"Coming?"

"Huh?"

Her head whips around to see Killian Jones holding the door and his eyebrows doing a whole new thing. It's tentative and nervous and they won't stay put but it looks hopeful too and Emma thinks that's her new favourite.

But when she moves towards him and the familiar suggestive wiggle is back, she has to admit, she doesn't hate that one all that much either.

"I request at least half an hour to plead my Pirate Christmas case," he says as they walk into the chilly night air.

"You get me somewhere warm and delicious and we can have a Hawaiian Christmas, for all I care," she shoots back, moving so that their sides are almost brushing.

For warmth, you know.

"I resent such an easy victory."

"Easy? You call this easy?"

He lets her have that one with a reluctant chuckle and when a gust of wind finally gives him a semi-plausible excuse to put his arm around her and pull her closer, Emma thinks it's definitely a victory.

/

2 weeks later

They have a Pirate Christmas. It is brilliant. I-have-never-had-so-much-fun-at-a-work-party-without-imbibing-two-liters-of-wine brilliant. You-look-so-fine-as-a-pirate-Santa-I-might-scar-the-children-before-the-night-is-through brilliant. I-don't-need-mistletoe-to-kiss-you-by-the-Christmas-pirate-ship brilliant.

/

3 weeks later

Emma Swan gets up at the crack of dawn on a day meant solely for lazing around in your pyjamas to bake pretzels.

And she loves every second of it.