Emma stared at the third burnt microwavable turkey dinner she had tried to make in the last four hours. It amazed even her that she had been able to forget three separate dinners all because she had been on a LOST watching marathon, waiting to see if the world would end every one hundred and eight minutes. It was a hell of a lot better than trying to stomach the cheesy lines in the Christmas movies the Hallmark channel was trying to shove down her throat every minute, in her opinion. She didn't even think the show had a true Christmas episode, for which she was forever thankful.
It wasn't even entirely her fault that her dinners had burned. Emma wasn't the one that usually cooked on Christmas. In fact, for the past five years that she had lived with her friend Mary Margaret, Emma had depended on her to keep her fed on the holidays. It wasn't that she forced her; Mary Margaret was a bit of a mother hen and was always taking care of Emma. Neither of them had family—blood family, anyway. Emma had come to consider Mary Margaret as family, and she knew her friend felt the same about her. So, they had spent the holidays together for the duration of their living together. And it was the first year since that Mary Margaret hadn't been there.
Her roommate was currently having a nice Christmas dinner with her boyfriend's family on the other side of the state. That part was Emma's fault; she and David worked together, and, after taking Mary Margaret to the annual Christmas party, they had hit it off instantly. Mary Margaret had offered to cook dinner for Emma, but she had declined. Emma knew how stressed out she was about meeting David's mother that she didn't need the extra stress. She had told her friend that she could manage on her own, which had obviously been a terrible lie if the mass of charred meat in the trash can was any indication. She would have to remember to throw the garbage out before her friend returned.
Emma almost found herself hating that she had begun to depend on her friend so much. If her life had taught her anything, it was that people couldn't be trusted. Yet, she had been with Mary Margaret for so long, had brought her into her life so much that she had almost forgotten what it was like to be alone. Almost. Since she had been alone in the apartment for the past week while her roommate was away, that feeling had started to eat at her again. She had gotten too comfortable with where she was, and with Mary Margaret and David getting serious, it wouldn't surprise her if she was left alone once again in the near future.
A long sigh left Emma's lips as she leaned back against the counter, running a hand over her face. She was starting to get really hungry, a hunger that wouldn't be satisfied by menial snacks. She had heard that some restaurants stayed open on Christmas for people that didn't have anyone to spend Christmas with, and Jewish friend had told her once that they ate Chinese food on Thanksgiving, so she had options. Deciding she would fare better out in the city than in her own apartment, Emma grabbed her warmest coat and scarf off the rack next to the door before slipping on her boots and heading out.
Killian stared down at the glass of rum he had just 'purchased', tracing the rim of the glass with his forefinger. It had been sitting in front of him for two hours, waiting to be drunk, but he still couldn't bring himself to bring the glass to his lips. He went through the same thing on every holiday, every could have been birthday. No matter how much time passed, it never stopped hurting. He didn't know how to make it stop hurting.
Five years later and Killian could still feel his brother in his arms. Liam had been his rock for his entire life, taking care of him when their father wouldn't, when he didn't care. Once their father had left and Killian was put in the foster system, Liam saved up his earnings as an officer in the Navy to become his brother's legal guardian. Looking up to his brother like he did, it didn't take Killian long to decide to join like his idol had. They served together, Killian only being away from his brother for the length of training. And when his brother was promoted to Captain and given his own ship, Liam proudly asked Killian to be his right hand man.
That had been eight years ago. For three wonderful years, they enjoyed the open ocean, fought for Queen and country, and served proudly together aboard the HMS Defender. Through everything, they had survived with ease, and with Liam being in perfect health, no one had seen it coming. One minute, he was joking with Killian in his quarters, the next, his brother was begging him to stay. Killian was sure if they hadn't been so far out at sea when it happened, they might have been able to save him. But might haves didn't matter. Liam died in his arms and Killian was never the same after that.
Compassionate discharge, they had called it, due to extenuating personal circumstances. Killian thought it sounded a lot like pity. Having his brother, who was also his Captain, die in his arms definitely qualified, though. He found it to be quite fitting, the pity. In the beginning, he had received pity from his brother. In the end, it was for his brother. He couldn't return home, since he had no home to return to. All of England reminded him too much of what he had lost, so the week after he was discharged, he packed everything he owned and moved to the States.
And just like clockwork, Killian found himself in the bar around the corner from his apartment. It was his bar, the Jolly Roger, and it was only two miles away from the water. It kept him close to the sea, which made him feel closer to Liam. And just like clockwork, he raised his glass to the air, toasting his brother, and swallowed the contents in one gulp. He put the bottle of liquor away and turned out the lights in the place, locking the door as he stepped out. He was surprised to see the diner across the street with its open sign on, but when his stomach growled loudly enough to be heard over the wind, he figured he wouldn't ask any questions as he crossed the road, passing a little yellow Bug parked in front of the place.
Emma had found the little diner tucked away near the shore. It had taken her half an hour to find a place that didn't look sketchy on that side of town. She had passed the diner hundreds of time, but it was her first time in the place. From the outside it didn't look terrible, but the inside looked like it was stuck in the 80's, its color scheme needing an upgrade. She seated herself at a booth, shrugging off her coat and taking a menu from the end of the table. It was your stereotypical diner menu, but her mind was set on having turkey. She hoped they were having a Christmasy special since they were open on Christmas night.
The bell to the door jingled loudly, and her head shot up on instinct. Instantly, she wished she had kept staring at the menu, because the man that had walked in was nine kinds of attractive. Not only that, but she was surprised by the fact that anyone else was looking for a place to eat on Christmas. Her heart squeezed in her chest, hating the fact that there were other lonely people in the world. It was a feeling she didn't wish on anyone.
He passed her with a small smile, sitting in the booth right past hers, but instead of sitting with his back to her, he faced her, tipping his head to her as he picked up his own menu. Emma collected herself quickly, looking back down at the menu to see if there was something she missed the first time. She wondered where a server was, the bell at the door being loud enough to wake the dead. That stupid quote from It's a Wonderful Life popped into her head about angels getting wings, and she wondered where the guy across from her's were, because people from Earth did not look like that. All piercing blue eyes and stubble that would leave the best burn the next day. Emma shook her head; that was not the kind of thought she should be having about a stranger sitting six feet away from her.
"Open faced turkey sandwich," a lilting voice suddenly said.
Emma looked up to see the man in the next booth smiling sheepishly at her as he set his menu back down on the table. Of course, he had to have an accent; having that face wasn't good enough for him. "What?" She asked, her mind finally catching up that he had spoken to her. Unless the server was invisible, there was no one else but her.
"Granny makes a mean open faced turkey sandwich. Comes with gravy, too." Emma looked down at the menu, wondering how she had missed it. "You have to ask for it. It's not on there."
"Oh," Emma said, sliding her menu away. It sounded like the closest thing she would get to a turkey dinner on Christmas, which she still mostly blamed on Mary Margaret and LOST. She mentally chastised herself for not buying a fourth turkey dinner at the supermarket the night before. "Thanks…"
"Killian Jones."
Emma hadn't been fishing for his name, but if he wanted to give it to her, that was his choice. "Thanks, Killian Jones." He voice had sounded more sarcastic than intended.
"Sorry, love, but I didn't get your name," he said, and that stupid accent made her want to shove her head through the table.
Emma couldn't help but smirk. "That's because I didn't give it."
She was saved from a quip from him for a few moments when the server finally appeared, taking both of their drink and food orders before disappearing into the quiet kitchen. It would be easy for her to ignore him for the rest of the night, her ability to head off guys that tried flirting with her had been well practiced over the years. Her walls had been carefully constructed for such a purpose. They were also a bit infuriating in that regard, because fate—or irony, she wasn't quite sure which—had sent someone else to that diner. He didn't have anyone to spend Christmas with, either, and she could see it in his eyes that he was just as lonely as she was.
She sighed quietly, having only half listened to his long speech about how it was good form to offer up a name. "Emma. Emma Swan."
Killian flashed a small victory smile. "Well, Emma, Emma Swan. It's a pleasure to be in your company tonight."
"You wouldn't be saying that if you knew me," she mumbled quietly enough for him to miss it.
"So," he started, pressing on in the conversation, "what brings you to Granny's diner on Christmas by yourself?"
Emma cleared her throat, getting into the swing of being in casual conversation with someone she didn't know. Mary Margaret and her coworkers had spoiled her in that regard. They were all easy to talk to and knew when not to pry. "My roommate is with her boyfriend for the holidays. She usually cooks dinner for the holidays."
"Ah, so I take it you burned the poor bird?" He asked, leaning back in the booth. Anyone just looking at the surface could see how much he exuded confidence, but Emma could see past that. He was a broken person, just like her. It was scary to talk to someone like that.
"It was more of a microwavable…thing than a bird," Emma replied, laughing nervously. She had no reason to be nervous around this guy. It wasn't like she would ever see him again. And she couldn't be the only human in the world to have microwavable food during the holidays.
"Oh, I went through that phase. Try getting a rotisserie bird from the market. They're premade and really hard to burn."
Emma was surprised by the sincerity in his voice, a softness that lacked the flirty tone he had displayed earlier. "I'll have to remember that for next time, because I doubt my roommate and her boyfriend are ending any time soon."
"And you're jealous that you can't… No. That you won't have that," Killian said surely. "Left alone once again."
"How…" Emma started, wondering if this guy wasn't just some figment of her subconscious trying to make her rethink her life during the sad and lonely holidays. "How do you know that?"
"I know that look in your eyes all too well, and you're something of an open book. Feeling abandoned your whole life, people always leaving." Killian leaned forward, his eyes staring into hers, and she couldn't bring herself to look away. "An orphan."
Emma was flabbergasted that a perfect stranger could know so much about her, but then she looked at him, really looked at him; she could see it. He wasn't just lonely on Christmas. He had been left just like she had. Abandoned, thrown away, left behind. She had never met someone that seemed to know exactly how she felt, a kindred spirit of sorts, and she would be lying if she said it didn't scare her to death. Because she wanted to make that go away for him. No one deserved to feel that pain.
"So… Two lonely souls ending up in the same diner on Christmas night," Killian said after a few minutes, standing up from his booth and moving to stand in front of her table. "Want to be lonely together for a night?"
It took a moment for Emma to register what he was asking. On the surface, he was just asking if he could sit at her booth and enjoy Christmas dinner with her, but underneath his question was the possibility of many things. She was known the take a one night stand every once in a while to scratch the itch, but she knew he would never be just that, no matter how much she denied it to herself. Mary Margaret's words of pain and love and how her walls needed to come down eventually flooded her mind. She still wasn't sure she could ever fully do that, but there was a nagging voice in the back of her mind, the one that screamed for happiness and light, telling her to take a chance.
She must not have spoken for a while, because he leaned down slightly to look her more directly in the eye. "Try something new, darling. It's called trust." When he offered her a smile, there was really nothing she could say but yes.
"You did not do that," Killian exclaimed, laughing loudly over his empty plate, napkin tossed on top of it.
"I did. Chased him right down the street in my heels! I had taken the liberty of putting a boot on his tire before going in, so he wasn't making a getaway in his car," Emma said proudly, munching on the last of her French fries.
She was surprised at just how light she felt. The last time she had found someone who was so easy to talk to was Mary Margaret, and even Killian was starting to surpass that. He already knew what subjects not to touch, even though he did push at them occasionally. It just seemed to be what he did. He scratched away at her walls, picking them apart brick by brick. It was infuriating, scary, and wonderful all at once.
"Well, good for you, lass. I knew you were a tough one," he said, sipping his coffee. Suddenly, Emma saw his eyes brighten and he chuckled. "That infernal woman."
"What?"
Killian simply pointed up, and Emma didn't even need to look to know that there was mistletoe hanging above their table. She chuckled and shook her head, smiling softly over at him.
"We don't have to, love. I'll understand if you don't want to," Killian said, but she could see that he definitely didn't want to ignore the sprig of leaves above their head.
"I'm not really one to skip out on tradition," she replied firmly, and Emma didn't give him much time to argue before she was leaning across the table and kissing him firmly on the lips.
She distantly heard a few aw's from the regulars in the diner, and their waitress Ruby gave a loud wolf whistle. Emma wasn't one for public affection, but recreating the night they met was something special, not happening very often. And she knew Granny had done it on purpose. That was their booth, and she couldn't help but feel bad for random people that sat there while Granny waited for them to come in.
"How was that, tiger?" Emma asked lowly as she pulled away, giving him a wink.
"That was enough to make me want to take you back to my apartment, for a very long time." Killian was already pulling cash from his pocket and putting it on the table before standing up and taking her hand. They waved a goodbye to Ruby and wished her a Merry Christmas; they wouldn't be back until after the holiday was over.
Maybe one day they would stop coming to the diner where they first met, once the magic of the whole thing was gone. But for the first time in a long time, Emma felt like magic was everywhere.