I'm writing this for one of my Tumblr friends, and just generally anyone who loves family fluff, Swanfire fluff, Christmas fluff...Enjoy, darlings! :DDD I'm still writing the other Christmas ones, don't worry.

"Okay, whoever turned off my Michael Bublè Christmas Medley, stop doing that! Ruby, honey, get off the counter, I'm cooking—JEFFERSON, WHY IS YOUR COAT STILL ON THE FLOOR? Where's Robin? I just saw Roland run past me with sticky fingers, and—Ruby, off the counter! Honestly, you guys, it's like you're teenagers all over again!"

Ruby rolled her eyes, watching her mother bustle around the kitchen in her ridiculously festive Christmas sweater. "All this fuss, just because Emma's bringing home a new boyfriend."

"Well, maybe if you brought someone home, we could have all the fuss for you," Mary Margaret returned sweetly.

"Mom…"

"Well, I'm just saying—"

"Okay, stop saying." Ruby hopped off the counter and started listlessly circling the kitchen, peering into the several pots and casserole dishes scattered around the counter, every so sniffing suspiciously. "This is a lot of food, Mom."

"It's a special occasion, I think she's really serious about this guy," Mary Margaret said, stirring something on the stove. "I want him to feel like he's part of the family."

"Who in their right mind would want to be part of this family?" Ruby asked the ceiling.

The Nolans were what you'd call "closely knit", which was a very nice way of saying "suffocating". Mary Margaret seemed paranoid that because her four children were now grown and getting on with their own lives, they would lose all memory of her and David: it was necessary precaution to involve herself in every aspect of their lives. Most of the year, they all enjoyed at least a few hours' distance between them: Ruby was living in Boston, Robin and his family in the suburbs, Jefferson just outside the city, and Emma had ventured further than all of them and landed in New York. But at Christmas, everyone was guilted into returning to their childhood home and putting up with their mother's holiday fever. David took the more cynical approach to the holiday, but everyone knew that if Mary Margaret complained in front of him, they would be forced to wear every reindeer nose and elf hat he could dig out of the attic.

"Hey, Mom—" Jefferson poked his head into the kitchen. "Did you call me?"

"Yeah, get your coat off the floor, I'm tired of tripping over it."

Jefferson exchanged a look with Ruby and obediently snatched up his coat, throwing it over his shoulder. "Anything else?"

"Are you the one who keeps turning off Michael Bublè?" Mary Margaret demanded, putting a hand on her hip.

"Who, me?"

"Yes, you."

"What? No…"

Mary Margaret sternly pointed the spoon at him. "Unless you want to serenade us yourself, you go turn it back on right now."

Jefferson rolled his eyes with his whole head. "Fine…" He slouched off to the family room and a minute later: "…I've been an awful good guy, Santa buddy…"

Another minute later, they heard the front door swing open; David's boots kicked off snow, then squeaked into the kitchen.

"All right," he said, shrugging his coat off. "Driveway's clear, Emma should be able to pull in just fine."

"Thank you," Mary Margaret smiled, standing on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. She slapped his hand away. as he reached for the spoon in the pot she'd been stirring. "Don't go eating all the food before they get here."

"Oh, come on, it's one bite—"

"Which turns into two bites, and then three bites, and then the whole pot is gone." Mary Margaret shooed him away. "Out of my kitchen, come on."

"All right, all right. Hey, Ruby—" he drummed his hands on her shoulders—"stop looking so cheerful."

Ruby opened her mouth in sarcastic laughter. "Ha."

"Come on, kiddo, lighten up. It's Christmas."

"Really?" Ruby looked around at the wreaths and holly garlands draped around the room; the Christmas calendar hanging on the wall; the snowman-themed napkins; the Santa and Mrs. Clause salt and pepper shakers. "I had no idea."

"Well, at least lighten up before Emma and this Neal guy get here," David said, giving Mary Margaret a wry look. "Apparently, we don't want to scare him off."

"Get me Frankie on the phone…Gone, already? All right, fine—is Justin there?…No? Are you—?" Neal pulled the phone away, shutting his eyes and muttering frustratedly, before putting it back to his ear. "No, I don't want to talk to his sister, why the hell would I want to talk to his sister? You know what? Just do me a favor—tell him I called, and to call me back as soon as he gets to the hotel. Yeah. Okay, thanks. Yeah, merry Christmas, whatever—just tell him I called, okay? Thank you."

He hung up the phone with a sigh, stowing it away in his jacket pocket. Emma glanced over, turning the steering wheel one-handed.

"Hope you're not going to be doing that at dinner," she remarked. "My mom's big on family conversation."

"People actually do that?"

"Not people. My mom." Emma smiled at the the apprehensive look on his face. "Don't worry, she's going to love you either way. My dad's the one you have to worry about."

Neal closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the seat. "God help me, I've landed myself a daddy's girl."

"And don't be surprised if my sister gives you a hard time." Emma squinted to read the street sign through the falling snow. "She's a little ball of sunshine."

"Yay…"

The yellow bug scraped down the road, spinning out cascades of snow on either side. Neal looked out the window at the blur of houses, grimacing at the twinkling multi-colored Christmas lights. The entire building was still calling him "Scrooge" because last year, he'd complained that his neighbor across the street had lights that shone directly into his bedroom window, despite the heavy curtains. Needless to say, he'd sustained quite a resentment for obnoxious Christmas decorations, even more than they already deserved.

His heart sank as Emma slowed the car in front of the house with the brightest, most elaborately decorated house on the block. "This is your parents' house?"

"Yeah, my mom really goes all out." Emma parked the car in the driveway and shut off the engine; she twisted in her seat, turning to him with a big smile. "Ready for this?"

Neal slowly slid his eyes to the side, looking at the Santa sleigh and the tinkering Christmas elves; the red-and-green-lighted bushes; the enormous holly-berried wreath on the door. "Sure," he said with a weak smile. "I'm sure it'll be fine."