A/N: Sorry for no DWD today for those who read that story and follow my writing. I needed something happier to write today, hense this was born from several different prompts on Tumblr. Enjoy! Let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: All aspects of Once Upon A Time belong to ABC and the show's creators!

Emma thumped through the front door to her tiny, unbearably hot apartment. Not that she could really complain as she chucked the container in her hand down on the laminate countertop, the thermos sliding across the slippery pink top. Emma did live alone in Boston, not exactly the cheapest place to live. So she really couldn't complain that she lived in a shoebox under a tenant who really liked sex and had a squeaky bed. Or that her bathroom tap constantly leaked so she'd taken to leaving a bucket in the sink so she could use the leakage to water her kind of dead plants. And she really couldn't complain because she lived next door to her best friend.

Killian Jones.

Killian Jones was one of a kind. They'd met four years prior, Emma fresh out of the local community college with a diploma for a security guard- not pleased at that but relieved she'd gotten something after a short stint in Phoenix Prison for a crime she didn't commit but her ex most definitely did. Killian himself had been running from an accident that took his hand and the woman he'd planned to marry. Running from a brother who expected too much and a country filled with bad memories. And then had run, quite literally, into Emma, nearly knocking her down the walk-up's stairs. Both had been sullen and guarded, angry and hurt. Killian had apologized gruffly before running off to an interview. But gentleman that was, he'd come back that night with a pie, standing at her apartment door until he managed to convince Emma to let him in to share.

And the rest, as they say, was history.

Killian had been there for Emma as she'd left her hated job at mall security, turning into a rather successful bail bondsperson. Emma spent hours on Killian's couch, listening to him pour out his heart as he processed his grief and when he first called his brother again after their big fight back in London. Killian had held Emma's hair after she spent a night getting trashed when her ex showed up back in town before secretly calling the police on the man and vindicating Emma, even if she was so surprised that her emotions manifested as anger and she didn't talk to Killian until Neal went to jail and she was pardoned. Emma had accompanied Killian back to London for the first time since the accident two years previously after Killian finally landed a job as an editor that was stable enough that he could afford to finally apologize to his brother in person.

They'd been together for everything.

They knew everything about each other.

Well- except for the feelings Emma was keeping locked in a secret chest inside, never to be revealed. Especially since they had both verbally vowed to the universe when they first met never to get involved in matters of the heart again.

Emma shucked off her coat, hanging it before she could start to sweat in earnest. The constant heat radiating from the other apartments into hers sucked in the summer but in the winter, as it was now, really cut her utility bills. She pulled the grey beanie off her head, balled it in her hands, then chucked it at the wall.

"Evening, Swan!" came the reply through the drywall. Emma grinned, listening for the sound of the door of the next apartment over to open. It did as she was setting her boots neatly on the rubber mat in the closet- put there by Killian, neat freak that he was. Just as Emma stood upright again, the apartment door behind her opened and Killian stepped in, smirking at her.

Killian was many things. English- unbearably so when Emma messed up his tea (not that she ever did that on purpose to see his response). Brother to a retired Navy Captain who still lived in Bath with a lovely Norwegian wife and baby on the way. Owner of an extensive vocabulary- handy considering he edited history books for a living. Kinder than average. Rum connoisseur. A constant gentleman. But on top of all the things that made Emma fall for him- he was also one thing that had made her instantly wary. Killian was dashingly handsome.

Like old school movie star meets dangerous pirate handsome. Dark hair that was always messy. Bright blue eyes topped with eyebrows that danced with every word he spoke. Ginger stubble which Emma teased him occasionally for- saying he was actually Irish and faking his accent. Not incredibly tall, but taller than Emma so long as she wasn't wearing her honeypot fuck me shoes for work. Broad and muscly enough that it was obvious he'd spent a year or two in the Navy to make ends meet but maintained his muscles minimally now that he had a desk job. It was just too much for Emma.

"No late night at the Charmings'?"

Emma rolled her eyes. The Charmings' as Killian had nicknamed them were Mary Margaret and David Nolan, along with their little baby Leo. David was the first cop Emma worked with as a bail bondsperson and had immediately pulled the guarded and distrustful into his family. Which Emma really didn't mind. They were lovely people, even if they were a bit too hopped up on the Disney rhetoric for someone as jaded as Emma. Mainly the hope and love speeches came from Mary Margaret, a primary school teacher, but David had been married to her long enough that it had started to rub off on him. That night they had invited Emma for a Christmas Eve get together, one Killian had been invited to as well but had been unable to come due to a book that needed to be finished before his vacation started the next day.

"It's Christmas Eve. They have a two-year-old. Santa had to arrive."

Killian grinned. "Ah, the magic of Christmas." Emma rolled her eyes. Neither of them were very festive apart, but had decided that a shared tree set up in Killian's apartment would be alright. Emma secretly loved it and almost wished they could put up more decorations together. But then she remembered she really didn't know how to do Christmas and because of that was terrified to do it wrong. A life in foster care, and constant running from any signs of affection would do that to a person.

Emma turned to the kitchen, strolling in and looking around for a snack for the movie they had planned to watch now that Emma was home and Killian had completed the edits needed for a book on Caribbean pirating. Elf had been DVR'd earlier in preparation for the event- to be held in Emma's apartment because the next morning would be set in Killian's apartment when they opened the few gifts that were stashed under it. Fair was fair and was just festive enough not to ignite the panic in Emma.

Killian followed her into the kitchen as Emma pulled down the box of popcorn. Emma definitely couldn't cook so something microwavable was about all she could manage, whether the snack would have been better if it was festive or not. "So what did Mary Margaret serve?"

"The usual," Emma answered, sliding the white and blue bag into the microwave. "Prime rib roast which David sliced and served after a very sappy speech." She hit the popcorn button before remembering the thermos she'd left on the counter when she'd entered. "Hey, taste this!" Emma grabbed the thermos and unscrewed it. "It's totally gross but Mary Margaret thought it was the best recipe she'd made for the dinner."

"I'm sure it's not gross if Mary Margaret made it," Killian answered, well versed in the woman's cooking. He reached out and grabbed the thermos and tipped it up to his lips before taking a large swallow. Killian was, after all, never one to back down to a challenge and as a gentleman needed to defend Mary Margaret's honour.

As soon as Killian had swallowed his eyes widened in horror and Emma laughed, pleased her point had been proven and Mary Margaret finally wasn't perfect. But Killian didn't gasp, instead he coughed.

"Emma, what is this?" he asked, voice measured to hide the panic. Emma's hair immediately stood on end.

"Egg nog," she answered, confused. "Like cake in a glass."

"Emma!" Killian practically shouted. Or would have had his voice not gone all scratchy. "Egg nog has cinnamon in it."

Emma shook her head vehemently. She never would have given it to him if it had cinnamon in it. Emma knew what foods gave her best friend anaphylactic shock. It was why she only got cinnamon on her beloved hot cocoa when she was out at a coffee shop, never at home. "No it doesn't! It has nutmeg in it."

"And cinnamon," Killian answered thrusting the thermos back to her. Emma took a swig and sure enough, now that she was looking for it, she tasted the deadly spice. She'd just given her best friend the one food he could not ever eat. The thermos slipped out of her hand and hit the laminate floor, the sticky drink spreading in a white pool across it.

Killian coughed again, hand going to the counter to support himself. Emma just stood there, staring. Watching in absolute horror as her best friend's- the man she secretly loved- lips began to turn blue. "Epipen," he wheezed out when he realized she'd been frozen in panic.

"Right." Emma turned on her heel and took off out the door of her apartment and into Killian's. Killian had showed her one day after a near cross-contamination of the spice where he kept his epipen. Emma yanked open Killian's junk drawer and cursed. The damn thing was full of pens of all different colours. She grabbed the drawer and yanked it off it's rollers, before pouring the contents of the drawer onto the floor. Next door there was a thump, the sound of a body hitting the floor, and it was all Emma could do not to start crying. A moment later she located the epipen and took off again, not even stopping to shut the apartment door.

When she got back to her apartment Killian was on his knees in the kitchen, jeans starting to get soaked in the spilled egg nog. Not that he seemed to notice over the wheezing and swelling that had started around his eyes and lips.

Emma let out a string of choked curses, grabbing his armpits and dragging him out of the mess. She helped him lay down before going for his belt. With shaking hands, she managed to get it undone before ripping down his skinny black jeans. Oh, how she wished this had been under other circumstances. Circumstances where she could actually look at him. Enjoy the fact that Killian was in maroon boxer briefs in her apartment.

"Blue to the sky-" Killian whispered, reminding her of the day he'd taught her how to use it in case of emergencies.

"Orange to the thigh," Emma finished, snapping off the safety cap. "Sorry," she whispered back as she drove the medicated needle into his outer thigh. Killian groaned at the pain while Emma counted to three seconds out loud before pulling the needle out and throwing it away, the casing rolling somewhere under the fridge.

Killian coughed again, but it seemed the wheezing was a little less. "911."

Emma didn't know how he could still give her instructions in his state. But she was thankful for it. Because it kept her from panicking about potentially loosing someone else she loved. Emma dove for the phone that was in her coat pocket in the closet and hit the emergency button of the front screen, quickly dialing 911.

While the line rung, Emma hurried back to Killian, flopping down on the ground and pulling his head into her lap. Killian's face was pointed up at her but his eyes were so swollen she couldn't tell if he was conscious or not. She gave him a little shake and Killian groaned and coughed in response.

"911- what's your emergency?"

"My best friend- Killian Jones- he's in anaphylactic shock."

"And what's he allergic to?"

"Cinnamon."

"Symptoms?"

"Swelling," Emma ran her free hand over Killian's sweaty face. "He can barely breathe and his lips are blue. I gave him an epipen but it's only working a little bit. Please- please hurry. I can't lose him."

"Address?" Emma rattled off the address. "Okay, a team is on their way. Stay on the line with me, okay?"

Emma had to click on the speaker phone, and set it on the floor, hand shaking too much to hold it to her ear. She could take on the scariest of bail jumpers but the minute something happened to Killian she was a giant mess. Which was exactly why she'd stayed away from love after Neal. If she'd learned her lesson and not fallen in love with her best friend she'd still be the calm, cool and collected Emma that wrestled bail jumpers into her Volkswagen Beetle. And not the woman sitting on her dirty floor, a man with pants around his knees in her lap, as she battled against the emotions inside.

"It's okay, love," Killian whispered, the epipen seeming to take effect finally. At least they'd been bought a little while with it. "I'll be okay. The ambulance will get here soon."

"You're blue," Emma answered, voice shaky.

Killian sighed out what Emma assumed was supposed to be a laugh and lifted his hand to grasp hers. Hives had started to crop up on the skin and his fingers had begun to swell. Emma grabbed the hand tighter and yanked at the rings that decorated his only hand, slipping the two of them onto her thumbs- the only fingers big enough to keep them on. If his other hand got damaged as well- Killian would definitely never forgive her. Not that she could think about how angry Killian would be when he got out of the anaphylaxis fog. Thinking about losing Killian through anger was nearly as bad as through this allergic reaction.

A few moments later there was a clunking in the hallway and then two paramedics appeared in the doorway of her apartment.

"Over here," Emma called, waving them forward with the hand that wasn't holding Killian.

"Okay, Miss, can you back up?" Emma shook her head, holding Killian tighter. She wasn't moving. She wasn't letting go. "Please Miss, we need to examine him." The paramedic was trying to be pleasant but Emma could tell he was irritated.

"It's okay, Emma," Killian whispered, struggling to sit up and coughing as a result. "It's their job."

With a heavy sigh and a final glance at Killian, Emma shifted out from under Killian and stepped back so they could get him up onto the stretcher. The paramedics took measurements, asked Emma some questions about the epipen and Killian's statistics before strapping him to the gurney and pulling his undone jeans off the rest of the way when they noticed the swelling in his legs.

"We're going to have to take him to the hospital for some powerful antihistamines. We'll take him right in and he'll need to spend the night so why don't you get a bag packed for him? If you hurry, you'll be able to ride with us since we need to hook him up to oxygen first since he's pretty blue."

Emma didn't need to be told twice. "Don't worry about locking up," Emma called as she grabbed her keys from the counter and rushed into Killian's apartment. Finding the backpack in the bottom of Killian's closet, Emma ran around the apartment, grabbing a toothbrush and toothpaste, his cell phone, wallet the flannel sweatpants that were his favourite when he was sick, a new t-shirt and some thick socks and sneakers. With everything stuffed haphazardly in, she was running again, barely remembering to pull the door shut behind her.

Emma just managed to slip into the ambulance before it pulled away, setting the bag onto her lap and grabbing Killian's hand. The man was asleep, she thought, with an oxygen mask pulled over his face. A blanket had been laid over his bare legs and an IV was already hooked up to his handless arm, the bag of clear liquid hanging off the pole attached to the stretcher.

"Is he your boyfriend?" one of the paramedic's asked after a few long minutes in silence.

Emma shook her head. "Not that lucky," she answered after checking again to make sure Killian's eyes were shut completely.

"You seem like you really care."

"I do. I should have known egg nog had cinnamon in it. I ruined Christmas for us." Emma flopped her head down onto the backpack and sucked in deep breaths, willing herself not to cry.

"Mr. Jones will be okay," the man answered with a sad smile as the ambulance slowed to a stop. "And you know?" he called, jumping out of the ambulance, "you really should tell him how you feel."

Emma didn't answer. Instead she followed the paramedics and the stretcher into the hospital through the ambulance bay. Against her better judgement, and earning the nurses some very loud curses, Emma was separated from Killian once inside, given a handful of paperwork while they got him set up in a room and treated before the epipen wore off.

Scowling at everyone near her, Emma flopped down onto a hard plastic chair and started to fill out the forms. It was a mark of how far she'd come from that guarded and angry woman who Killian had first run into that she knew all the answers. Even his blood type from that really bad case of food poisoning a few years previously that ended with him taking her to the hospital and giving her his own answers as a distraction as he filled out the forms with her responses. Emma knew Killian. And he knew her. And not just the best friend kind of knowing. The kind of knowing that came from when you were a partner with someone.

Except Killian seemed to have no desire to be a partner with her.

It wasn't that Killian slept around. But for so long there had been the memories of his dead fiancé hanging over him. The guilt at trying to start something with someone else. And then, when the mourning ended, Killian declared that he'd never risk that again. Killian flirted with anything that moved but that was where it ended, to the constant annoyance of all the women who came into contact with him. Because damn, Killian was a catch. Just not a catch that Emma could make. And she was too scared to do anything with her feelings for fear of messing up the best friendship she'd ever had.

Emma finished the papers and handed them back to the admitting nurse. She was led down a hallway to another series of chairs. "Wait here. The doctor will come get you when Mr. Jones is ready for visitors." Emma tried really hard not to scowl at the nurse when she sat down in another hard chair, staring at the pale blue cement wall in front of her.

Emma didn't know how long she sat there, growing progressively more apprehensive. How long did it take to give him antihistamines? Was something wrong? Was Killian ready but told the doctor not to come get her? Was he mad at Emma? Of course he was mad at her. She'd ruined Christmas and nearly killed him. Killian had every right to tell her to get lost and never talk to him again. She'd probably lost her best friend because she forgot to ask Mary Margaret what was in egg nog.

Emma was pulled from her spiral by a buzzing in the backpack she was holding. Killian's phone. Emma opened the zipper and grabbed the phone, cursing when she saw Liam's smiling face on the screen. It had to have been close to midnight in England, Liam most likely calling to wish Killian an early Happy Christmas before bed, and Emma was tempted not to answer. Liam had raised Killian. While they'd had a rough patch because of the accident that took so much from Killian and his subsequent immigration, Liam meant the world to Killian. More than anyone, in Emma's opinion. Liam had sacrificed everything for Killian growing up. Killian was actually the reason Liam had enrolled in the Royal Navy instead of going to college. Liam might have ended up loving the service, but Killian still carried the guilt of original dreams dashed. It was why Killian had left England, not that he said it out loud; too scared to be seen as a mourning burden to stay with his brother.

But Emma couldn't not tell Liam what had happened. Liam needed to know his brother was in the hospital. And Emma needed to stop being such a coward. With a final curse, she clicked the accept button on the screen and held the phone to her ear.

"About time, you bloody git," Liam called, laughing.

Emma cringed. "Uh, Liam. It's Emma."

"Oh," Liam replied quickly. "Well, sorry, lass. You're not a git. Where's my miserable brother on such a lovely, festive night?"

"The hospital." Emma was never one for tact. Why stop then.

"What?" Liam practically yelled. Somewhere in the background there was the sound of a chair scraping the floor as Liam stood. "What do you mean?"

"Killian had an allergic reaction. He's going to be fine." Emma really hoped she wasn't lying. "The paramedics came after I gave him an epipen and now a doctor is looking at him and giving him antihistamines." Emma stopped and drew in a shaky breath. "I'm so sorry, Liam. I'm the one who gave him cinnamon by mistake. I thought it was just nutmeg in egg nog. I'm sorry. It's all my fault." Now, a tear did leak down Emma's face. She dashed it away, frustrated at how weak it made her feel. This was her fault and she needed to accept that. How many times had she been told growing up that her constant rehoming was her fault? She was too angry. Too sullen. Too quick on the trigger. Every time then she'd accepted her fault and then it had just been her life once again thrown into upheaval. It was just- this time it was Killian. The one person she was most scared to lose.

"Emma. Emma!" Liam called loudly, getting her attention from where she'd been lost in thought. She dashed another tear from her face. "It's okay. This has happened before. Should have seen the time I got a snickerdoodle for Killian without realizing what that meant. Thought it was just a funny name." Emma knew Liam was trying to play it off for her benefit. She could hear the underlying tension in his voice.

"It's not okay," Emma responded, unable to abide someone trying to make her feel better when she'd nearly killed the man she loved. "I ruined Christmas. And nearly killed him. Killian's going to hate me now."

Now Liam did give an actual laugh. As if he couldn't believe Emma's words. "Killian could never hate you, lass," he answered. "That man's been in love with you for years."

"What?" The word came out a whisper.

"Shouldn't have said that. Tell Killian to call me later." With that, the line went dead.

Emma let her hand drop onto her lap, still clutching at the phone. Liam's words replayed over and over in her mind. That couldn't be true. Killian wanted nothing to do with love. And he definitely wouldn't love her- the girl who knew so little about Christmas that she gave someone deadly allergic to cinnamon homemade egg nog. No. Liam had to have been wrong. Yeah, Emma loved Killian but Killian didn't love her back. At least not in the same way. More in the best friend, sisterly way.

Right?

Was she willing to risk everything to find out for sure? Tell him how she felt?

Even thinking that terrified her. Emma Swan played her cards close to her chest. Was the potential for something more with Killian worth the risk?

"Miss. Swan?" Emma whipped her head around. A doctor with short blonde spiky hair stood just up the hall in front of a room. Emma stood and hurried over, her concern for Killian making her go on autopilot when really, all she wanted to do was run from Liam's words. And the man they were about. "I'm Dr. Whale," the doctor told her, pointing to his badge. "Mr. Jones will be fine. He's responding well to intravenous antihistamines and oxygen through a cannula so his breathing is much better. The hives are still there and will be for a few days but the swelling in his eyes has come down so he can see through them. The swelling will continue to reduce over the next few hours, and if things progress as they have been, he can go home in the morning. You can stay with him if you'd like." With a final nod, Dr. Whale stepped away. "Oh, and Merry Christmas!"

Emma didn't respond. Instead she turned towards the room. The door was open and through it she could see Killian's feet at the end of the bed, sticking up through a thin blanket. But she couldn't make her legs move. Couldn't go in there and risk Killian yelling at her. Telling her their friendship was over. Because Emma didn't really believe what Liam had said. Not when Killian had been so adamant those years ago. Killian would have said something if that changed.

"Emma?" Killian's voice echoed through the doorway, accent a bit rough. "Are you still out there?"

Emma sighed. She couldn't pretend she wasn't there, as much as she wanted too. Not when Killian had obviously heard her talking with Dr. Whale.

"Yes." Her voice wobbled a bit and Emma cursed herself. Now Killian would think she was a coward as well as a total idiot.

"Emma?" Killian replied, confused at her tone. "Come in here." Emma took a step into the door, turning to where Killian lay, but not looking at him. "What's wrong?" She just shook her head. "Emma, please?"

Emma finally looked up at the pleading sound of his voice. Killian was hooked up to an IV and had a cannula in his nose, just as Dr. Whale had said. The swelling around his eyes and lips had also gone down, though both were still puffy. At least they weren't blue. But she'd never seen Killian look so bad. And even still, he made her stomach flip. Killian motioned to the chair beside him when he saw her looking at him.

"What's wrong, love?"

Love. That word Liam had used. The word she felt, somewhere under the swirling emotions. Sure, Killian used it sometimes when referring to her, the Jones brothers were the kings of pet names after all. But now, now Emma fought not to make a bigger deal out of it, to read too much into it. She felt like she was going to explode. The emotions inside couldn't be contained by her body. They needed to get out.

"I nearly killed you," she blurted out. Before Emma could slam a hand to her mouth, the emotions came tumbling out. "Because I was too dumb to realize egg nog had cinnamon in it. I never really did Christmas until I met you. You made me want to celebrate. But then I ruined it. And I know you have every right to be mad at me. Because that was so scary and it was all my fault. And I was so scared I'd lose you but I know I'm going to lose you anyway because of what I did. And then Liam called and I had to tell him what happened and then he said you couldn't be mad at me because you loved me-"

"He said what?" Killian asked quietly, eyes wide with panic. Almost as if he'd been caught.

"It's okay if Liam lied. I know how you feel about love. I know you don't feel the same way. It's okay."

Killian processed her words for a moment. "Emma- wait, feel the same way? Do you love me?"

Panic rose up in Emma at the realization of what she'd said. But she couldn't verbalize it again in a straight answer. Couldn't risk rubbing salt in the wound that was losing Killian. So Emma just nodded. Set the backpack of her things down on the floor. And did what she did best.

Ran.

Didn't stop until she'd gotten back at her apartment, thankfully not more than ten blocks from the hospital. Didn't stop to brush the tears from her face. Or respond to the worried pedestrians she passed.

Emma didn't stop until she was back in her apartment with the door locked.

Inside the apartment, Emma couldn't get away from thoughts of Killian. Not with the egg nog everywhere. Or the pants he'd been wearing on the floor. Or the little stickers from the back of the paramedic's electrodes littering the floor. Or the pictures on the fridge of their trip to Cape Cod the previous summer. Or the burnt popcorn in the microwave. Or the socks on the couch, tucked half in the cushions from where he'd pulled them off his feet while napping there a few days previously.

Every bit of her life had been entwined with Killian. Loosing him was as if she'd cut herself in half.

She couldn't escape the memories of the first man she'd loved since Neal.

So instead Emma sighed and started to clean. On the floor her phone buzzed furiously. She didn't spare it a glance as call after call and text after text came in. She couldn't see the rejection in print, experience the permanence of it.

Sometime around three in the morning, Emma flopped down on the couch. Her apartment was spotless. The damned egg nog was gone. The epipen was disposed of in a cardboard box to be taken to a pharmacy. The pants were folded and placed in front of Killian's apartment door. The popcorn disposed off. But Emma couldn't take down the photos. Or any of the other memories the apartment contained. Which was why she reached for the socks- blue and brown stripped monstrosities.

Killian loved his socks. Usually, they were the only colour in his wardrobe. Feeling pitifully weak, Emma pulled the socks on her own feet, yanking them all the way up until they sat halfway up her calf. Emma would keep these socks, just like the photos, as some kind of memory of the years Killian had been with her. A contrast to that swan necklace tucked into her closet where it had sat since she'd realized her feelings for Killian.

With a groan, Emma flopped back onto her worn sofa and let the exhaustion catch up to her. She was bone weary, emotionally and physically. Ready to sleep for hours. If she was going to spend a Christmas alone, she might as well sleep through as much of it as she could. Maybe that was the universe giving her a break.

"Emma." Killian's voice called to her in her dream. "Emma, come on, love."

Now a hand touched her. She must have been lucid dreaming because the touch actually felt like Killian's hand. A light shake and Emma was swatting out blindly. She was tired. She was going to extend this sleep as long as possible, avoid facing the truth of her life now for as long as possible.

"Emma, wake up."

With a groan, Emma peeled open her eyes, and startled enough to tip her off the edge of the couch onto the floor. Killian stood in front of her wearing the clothing she'd brought to the hospital. And it couldn't have been dream Killian because his eyes were bruised now that the swelling was gone, lips chapped and cracked from how swollen they'd been and his neck was bright red with hives. Emma had been dreaming of the Killian she had seen nearly every day for the past several years. Killian motioned to the counter with his head, hand occupied by a white bag from the local diner.

"I had keys. And I wasn't sure if you'd be awake so I let myself in. I hope that's okay?"

"Oh."

Had Killian really let himself into her apartment to tell her off? Was it because she hadn't answered or even looked at any texts? Emma really didn't think Killian was that cruel but everything in her life was such a mess that she didn't know what to expect.

"Emma," Killian started, looking as if he wanted to rub at his ear, and would have had his hand not been occupied by Granny's takeout. "You brought me my favourite sweats and socks." Killian motioned to the bright blue socks with Disney's Captain Hook on them. Emma hadn't even consciously thought about the socks in her panic, but she'd grabbed them anyway, even with the massive collection that man had. Emma nodded when she realized Killian was looking for a response. "You filled out every blank on the hospital forms right." Now Killian sounded almost in awe of what Emma had did. Which made no sense to her. Emma nodded again.

Killian pushed the takeout bag towards her and then sat on the sofa. "I brought you breakfast." Emma took the bag and stood, settling on the opposite end of the couch. Inside was a bear claw pastry and a hot chocolate, the container very carefully wrapped in plastic wrap and balanced against the side of the bag to keep it upright.

"Thanks."

They were both quiet for a minute. Emma chewed on the bear claw to keep her mouth occupied and Killian stared at her. She tried not to squirm. Or think of the mess she looked with the previous day's makeup and emotions streaking her face. When Emma was nearly done of her bear claw, Killian sighed.

"I talked to Liam." Emma kept staring steadfastly at the doughnut in her hand. "I'm sorry the git blurted that out to you like he did."

Blurted it out? Killian wasn't disputing what Liam had said? Emma couldn't help herself, she risked a quick glance at Killian and immediately regretted it. His eyes were so sad but yet hopeful that it nearly tore her heart in two with the desire to hold him.

"But, Emma, did you really mean what you said last night? Do you actually care about me in that way?"

What was the point in lying when he knew already?

"Yes." The word was quiet, said directly into her lap. Killian gave a little gasp and shifted closer on the couch to where he was nearly touching her.

"Why does there have to be a crisis for us to realize how dumb we've been?"

"What?" Emma looked up again, nearly brushing her nose against Killian's chin.

"Why did I nearly have to die by egg nog for us to realize we feel the same way about each other?" Killian was trying not to grin, eyes darting across her face.

"You mean?" Emma couldn't say it out loud.

"I love you, Emma Swan. Even though you nearly killed me. Have for a while but I thought you never wanted to let a man in again. I never thought I'd be able to move past Milah. Until I met you."

"Seriously?" Emma blurted, slapping a sticky hand over her mouth. She'd wanted to hear those words for years. Desperately wanted Killian to love her back. She'd wanted it so much, and had been so sure that it would never happen that it took a few moments for her brain to catch up with her mouth. Killian just laughed, reaching forward and pulling her hand away, and entwining his fingers with hers, which she noticed then were still wearing his rings.

"I'm not sure that was the response my ego wanted, love."

Emma rolled her eyes and shoved him, brain finally catching up. "I love you too, Killian Jones. Even though you were dumb enough to drink egg nog."

"Hey!"

But Killian didn't say anything else. Couldn't when Emma had pressed her lips against his. It took a moment for him to respond but then he was leaning her back, pushing her into the couch cushions as he used his tongue to ask for permission to deepen the kiss. Emma's sticky hands slid up under Killian's t-shirt and his tangled through her hair.

When they finally pulled away for air, Killian gave her a smirk, eyebrow climbing over a darkened eye. "And for the record, you didn't ruin Christmas, Swan. But maybe next year no egg nog?"

Her answer was pushing the idiot onto his back and pressing another kiss to his lips.