Something short and fluffy for Christmas. I've had this idea for a while now, but I only started writing it yesterday (proof of my terrible organisation skills, I know). This is set a few months after the end of Season 6, before Henry leaves for the Enchanted Forest. Enjoy!
'Does Maine really have to be so damn cold?' Emma muttered to herself, stamping her boots to get rid of the build-up of snow caked onto them. Little clumps of greyish mush fell off her shoes, already starting to melt into puddles by the door. Emma shuddered as she leaned down to untie her laces, brushing more snow off them with her gloved fingers. She placed her boots by the door, one falling against the other in her hurry to move deeper into the heated house. Unwinding her red scarf from around her neck, she pulled off her woolly hat, hanging them both on a coathook, followed by her jacket. As much as she loved that jacket, it really wasn't warm enough to keep her cosy in the frosted wasteland that was Storybrooke in December.
Emma picked up the bag that she had dropped as she had entered her home, full of last-minute Christmas presents. What with her several near-death experiences at the hands of the Black Fairy, almost losing her entire family, and, oh yes, getting married, Christmas had not been her main focus. Thankfully David had been happy to take the whole workload at the station for the day, giving her just enough time to finish buying gifts for her family and friends.
It being Christmas Eve, she really didn't have much time to wrap the remainder of her presents. With a longing look towards the kitchen, which smelled perpetually of cinnamon ever since she had wrapped a bundle of cinnamon sticks with a bright red ribbon and declared that to be the official sign that Christmas had started, she made her way up the stairs to the spare room that no one ever went into. Perfect for wrapping presents.
Emma emptied out her shopping bag onto the bed: a new scarf and a book on fairytale retellings for Henry (you'd have thought he'd have had enough of all that for a while, but apparently not. He said he wanted to do more 'research' on the topic, whatever that meant); a pair of red crystal earrings for Regina (they looked like apples and she hadn't been able to resist); a new teddy bear for her brother Neal; and a pair of 'I will always find you' cushions for her parents. For Killian she'd bought a bottle of rum (obviously), a new ring and pocket watch engraved with the words 'Our Happy Beginning'.
Looking at the pile of presents she had to wrap, Emma sighed, before being struck by an idea. Flexing her fingers, she flicked her hand towards the cushions destined for her parents while closing her eyes and concentrating. When they opened again, she saw a neatly packaged object sitting in the place of those cushions, wrapped in white glittering paper and a gold bow. Grinning in delight (and relief at not having to do the whole thing manually), she repeated the process until all the gifts were wrapped.
The only thing left for her to do manually was to add the labels. She addressed each label in her messy handwriting, and tied them to the ribbon on the appropriate package.
Finally finished, she gathered the presents into a pile and made her way down the stairs to put them under the Christmas tree in the living room. This done, she went through to the kitchen to finish warming up, and to make some hot cocoa. She had just stirred milk into the mixture of cocoa powder and sugar when she felt a breeze whirl through the house. Then a door slammed, accompanied by a series of somewhat muffled curses. Emma smiled and got another mug out, knowing the best way to deal with a cold pirate was to offer them a drink.
A few more curses reached the kitchen as Killian hung up his coat. At least he'd had the sense to wear his long one – this was him having worn the warmest thing he owned. She really needed to get him something that could actually stave off the bitter wind that swept through Storybrooke this time of year. Come to think of it, that would have been a good Christmas present. Damn.
The microwave beeped, and Emma turned to remove the now-hot mugs of cocoa. Giving them both a stir, she unscrewed the small bottle of rum she kept in the cupboard for just such an occasion, adding a shot to each cup. A pinch of cinnamon completed her wintery creations, and she left the kitchen holding them both carefully, so as not to spill them.
Killian grinned as she passed him, registering what was in the mugs she carried. Flashing him a quick smile, Emma tipped her head towards the living room in a silent invitation. Setting the cocoa down on the table, she turned to her husband following her into the room, still shivering a bit from the cold outside. His hand came up to fit around her waist, pulling her gently against him.
'Hello, love.' Emma's head tipped back as he leaned down to kiss her. But as his lips touched hers she jolted back.
'Killian, you're freezing! Come on, let's warm you up.' Killian laughed but followed her obligingly, allowing her to sit him down on the sofa, covered in a blanket. Emma threw a small fireball into the fireplace, causing a comforting blaze to shoot up, instantly warming the room. She turned the radio on quietly, to a station playing Christmas music – that much, at least, she had been able to do all season. She handed him his cup of cocoa, then picked up her own, sitting next to him. He spread the blanket over both of them, then his free arm came up to tuck her into his side. Emma leaned into him, feeling his heart beating steadily behind her. They both sipped their cocoa contentedly for a few minutes, until Killian was sufficiently thawed out that when he kissed the top of her head, Emma didn't shudder.
Setting his empty mug on the side table next to the couch, Killian stroked a thumb along Emma's cheekbone, before leaning in to kiss her again. This time she didn't flinch – his lips were warm from the cocoa and tasted of chocolate and rum, as well as something unidentifiably salty – something indescribably Killian, reminiscent of the sea he loved so much. His fingers threaded through her blonde hair, holding her to him. She ran the hand that wasn't holding her cocoa over his shoulder, pulling him closer.
Suddenly Emma drew back with a gasp. Her eyes flicked towards the radio, from which a long-forgotten song was playing.
'What's wrong, love?' Killian asked, a note of worry creeping into his voice. 'Are you alright?'
Emma tried to regain control of herself. 'Yeah, everything's fine. It's just … that song. I haven't heard it in years.'
Killian still looked confused. 'Why is it so important? What is this song?'
Emma half-smiled: although Captain Hook was settling into this world fairly well, he still didn't understand much about pop culture. 'It's a song from an old animated film. Like the one about Peter Pan,' she explained, half-smiling at the look of disgust on Killian's face. He had not been impressed with the retelling of Pan's story ('But it's all wrong, Swan! He's not some bloody carefree child, he's a vicious, cold-blooded murderer! And how could anyone think that could be me? Even in the King's navy we didn't wear such ridiculous clothes. And the hair? Is that what you meant by a perm?'). 'I loved that film as a kid.'
'What was it about?' Killian asked.
'It was about me,' Emma said simply. Seeing his confused expression, she continued: 'Well, I always felt as though it was. Especially now I know what actually happened in my past. This princess loses her memory and lives in an orphanage her whole life, until she tries to find her family, eventually finding out she's royalty. Much the same as me,' she said with a smirk. 'When I was younger, I used to love that story – I used to pretend that I was still at the start of it. Living in an orphanage, no idea who my parents were… hoping that someday I would find them again. And I did,' she finished.
Killian smiled at the wistful look on Emma's face, her eyes staring into the distance. Then he stood up abruptly, and held out his hand for hers.
'Dance with me,' he said.
'What?'
'You heard me, Swan. Let's dance.' Killian's eyes bore into hers, a shadow in them just dark enough to tell her he understood. Whatever it was for him… he'd had something similar. A reminder that somehow, somewhere, he would find his family again. Placing her cup down on the table in front of her, she got to her feet and took his hand. He led her to the more open part of the room – well, the part that wasn't blocked by a coffee table. As he wrapped his good arm around her waist, she rested her hand on the smooth metal of his hook.
They started slowly, swaying in time to the music, but as the third verse began, Killian stepped back, Emma staying close, and all of a sudden, they were waltzing round the living room. Every few steps Killian would turn her, so that soon she was dizzy and laughing even as she tried to commit the moment to memory: a sweet memory to end the long line of sad moments in her childhood that this song had been the soundtrack to.
The song drew to an end, as did their waltz: no more sweeping steps, no more dramatic spins. The couple went back to how they started – close together, swaying on the spot. Emma now held Killian's good hand in the space between them, against her heart, even as she still held the other one carefully. Killian glanced up at the ceiling, then guided her to a place about a foot from where they had been.
'Mistletoe,' he explained. Emma rolled her eyes as the smile she could hear in his voice, and muttered:
'Since when do you need the excuse?' His answering smirk had hardly begun to form before she leaned in to kiss him. He bent his head to meet her lips, just as the final notes of the song faded away – faded into the past, where it belonged.
I don't need to dream of family anymore, Emma thought. All the family I need is right here with me.
And a song someone sings
Once Upon a December.
The film Emma was talking about is Anastasia, and the song (strangely enough) was Once Upon a December.
What did you guys think? If you liked it, leave a review – I'll know what to keep doing. If not, leave a review anyway – constructive criticism is greatly appreciated.
Thank you ~NewtPevensie xoxox