A/N: This is just a little one-shot I wrote last year. I put it on tumblr then, but since I had approximately twelve followers I thought maybe there were some readers here who might like a bit of SwanFire Christmas cheer. (There's another one-shot I'll put up tomorrow night, time permitting.)

Four hours of sleep was not enough. Not even on Christmas.

Somehow, staying up late to wrap presents and deck out the apartment for Henry's first real Christmas - the first one he was old enough to anticipate and really understand - had seemed like a great idea at the time. But they'd failed to factor in that his understanding of the holiday would extend to crawling into their bed before the sun had even come up, burrowing himself under the covers between them as he wriggled with excitement.

"Mama?" he'd asked, patting her cheek in an attempt to wake her, his ratty stuffed pigeon shoved into her face as he clutched it in his other hand. Emma sputtered awake and made a mental note to toss it in the washer next time she ran a load of Henry's things - two and a half years of being his constant companion had left the bird worn and discolored, and on this particular morning, in desperate need of freshening up.

"Hi baby," she greeted him, shifting on her pillow to press a kiss to his forehead and move away from the offending toy.

"A pigeon?" she'd asked when Neal presented it to her shortly after Henry's birth, raising her eyebrow and managing to stare him down despite her exhaustion.

He shrugged sheepishly. "I thought the kid should have a swan as his first stuffed animal, you know, celebrate his heritage... but apparently that's not a big thing in hospital gift shops so I got him the closest thing I could find..."

"A pigeon."

Another shrug. "At least it's unique."

She studied him a moment longer before pulling him in for a kiss, carefully shifting the baby into the crook of her right arm. "I love you," she said, the depth of the statement transcending the simplicity of the words. "And I'm sure he'll love the pigeon."

It was a silly thing, she knew, but it meant the world to Neal that the first gift he'd ever given Henry was the little boy's most prized possession. Presents, she gathered, were something he hadn't had many of growing up, and he was determined his family wouldn't experience the same fate. She could certainly understand that - she hadn't had many, either. Which explained why it was that he'd spent most of October and November working every bit of overtime he could scrounge up to in order to fund the mountain of presents currently in their living room, stacked taller than the toddler who would be opening them. She'd tutted at him about the excess, but the truth was, she couldn't be prouder that they were able to give Henry the kind of Christmas memories that neither of them had been able to experience as children.

"Hi Mama," he said in reply to her greeting, wearing his father's grin and melting her heart once more. "Santa come?"

"I don't know, baby," she answered, reaching up to sweep his hair out of his eyes. "We'll have to go out and see. I bet he did! We can open presents and then I'll make some Christmas pancakes, sound good?"

"Pancakes?" Henry whispered excitedly, once more sticking his face up against his mother's.

"Yes," she replied with a laugh, "But first we've gotta get your Daddy up."

"I'm up," he mumbled. "No way I could sleep through him crawling up here. He gets me with his knee every time."

"Daddy!" Henry exclaimed, gleefully rolling over to look his father in the eye. "You up! Present time?"

"Hey buddy," Neal replied, sending his son a sleepy smile before he let out a yawn. "I don't know... did Santa come?"

"I go see!" he cried, managing to drag the covers to the foot of the bed with him as he clambered down, looking the perfect picture of holiday spirit in his red and green footed PJs. His parents exchanged a glance, grins creeping onto their faces at their son's infectious excitement, their fatigue quickly forgotten. In tandem, they rolled out of bed and followed him, watching in amusement as he rushed into the living room and skidded to a stop, tiny mouth agape at the mountain of brightly wrapped gifts that lay at the foot of the tree they'd cut as a family weeks before.

"What do you think?" Emma asked, crouching down next to Henry as he took in the sight before him.

"For me?" he replied, eyes shining in wonder as he looked from parent to parent in disbelief of the wonderland that he'd found in the living room he knew so well. In that moment, the look on his face made every moment of lost sleep worth it, a pale memory in contrast to the joy emanating from their child.

"Mostly," Neal replied, scooping him up and walking over to the tree. "A few are for your Mama."

"And your Daddy," she said, shooting him a knowing look.

He turned back to face her, shifting the toddler to his hip. "I thought we said we weren't exchanging gifts?"

"We did. It's a good thing neither of honored the agreement... that would have been awkward." She let out a laugh as she watched Henry leaning towards the stack of gifts, outstretched arms waving as he reached for packages just beyond his grasp. "C'mon, let's let him get started."

Emma moved to the couch as Neal helped Henry select a package, depositing both child and present on his mother's lap before sinking down next to them. "I open?" Henry asked hopefully, only to grin as his parents nodded.

"Start at this corner," his father instructed, tucking a finger under a loose edge of the paper. The little boy did as instructed, color flying through the air as he flung the wrapping onto the floor. He let out a squeal as he discovered a dump truck, large enough to fill his lap and sturdy enough to stand up to an exuberant toddler.

"Daddy play?" he asked, handing the toy over to his father.

"We can play in a little bit, bud," he replied, "right now we've got some more presents to open."

"Moooore?" Henry asked, eyes growing wide once again as he glanced back at the tree. "For me?"

"For you," Emma confirmed as Neal stood to grab another box, giving Henry a squeeze as she kissed the top of his head. "Santa brought you lots of presents, 'cause you're such a special little boy."

Henry beamed, twisting on her lap to throw his arms around her neck. "Love you Mama!" he exclaimed, showing his love in the unrestrained manner only children can manage.

"Love you, too, Henry," she echoed, looking up at her husband as she found herself surprised by the emotion of the moment. She opened her left arm to invite him into the embrace, and as he slid into it, he felt a tiny arm snake its way around his neck, completing the family hug.

He set the forgotten present on the table as he wrapped his arms around his family. "Love you Daddy," came a small voice, and in response Neal squeezed them both a bit tighter.

"Merry Christmas, Henry," was the best he could manage, taking a moment before leaning back to catch his wife's gaze. No words were needed to communicate how each felt - that being there as a family was the best Christmas gift of all.