Pairings: Emma/August, Emma/Mary Margaret
Rating: T
Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Once Upon a Time.
A/N: Fun fact about me: I love to crochet. I also love gin and tonics. I'm pretty much an 80-year-old trapped in the body of a 20-something. Anyhow, this will probably be the only Christmas fic I write this year, as I have a giant list of prompts I need to get through, but I at least wanted to write SOMETHING. The end gave me the hardest time (I must have re-written it 6 or 7 times), so hopefully it's not too terrible.
But I seriously love you guys and I wouldn't be writing if it weren't for you. So happy whatever holiday you celebrate, I hope it's wonderful and magical and you get everything you ever wanted. Thanks for being awesome! :D
Emma sighed and looked up from the mess in her hands; Ashley caught on right away having already completed one little pink bootie for Alexandra, Ruby was making progress on a hat, and Mary Margaret flipped the intricately patterned afghan she had been working on for weeks to begin her final row.
Not wanting to distract her roommate for what felt like the hundredth time, Emma removed the hook out from between two loops of yarn and cursed as she pulled out her fifth attempt at crocheting a scarf.
After taking a deep breath, she started a new chain. That part was easy, the hard part was trying to remember what came next… put the hook through the stitch, yarn over, back through the stitch, yarn over, pull through both loops. She focused intently, counting stitches as she went along. When she felt like she'd finally made progress, she held up the little rectangle of material. At least… it was supposed to be a rectangle, right?
Frustrated, she threw down the amoeba-shaped blob of yarn and crossed her arms resentfully. "I give up! The yarn is… broken or something! I can't do it!"
Mary Margaret looked up just as she tied off the end of her afghan, raising her eyebrows. "Of course you can do it, Emma," she replied soothingly, "It just takes some people more practice than others."
"Well maybe if I was any good at domestic stuff like Snow White over here…" she grumbled under her breath, sitting back against the couch with her lips pressed together in a thin line. Ruby and Ashley exchanged glances before reburying themselves in their respective projects, avoiding eye contact with Emma.
"Why don't you take a little break, hm? Maybe once you have a clear mind you'll be able to figure it out," Mary Margaret offered after shooting a scolding look toward the two girls.
"Ugh. Fine," Emma agreed and pushed herself up from the couch, crossing over to the kitchen. "I'm going to put the kettle on. Does anyone want tea or cocoa?"
"I'd love a cup of Earl Grey," her roommate responded in a sickeningly saccharine voice. Emma adored Mary Margaret, she really did, but the coddling definitely took some getting used to. At first she openly rejected it, but as time wore on and they grew closer, Emma almost came to think of Mary Margaret as family. "Anyone else?"
"I'll take a cocoa," Ruby requested while Ashley simply shook her head.
Staring out the window at the big puffs of snow falling gently from the sky as she stood over the stove, Emma could scarcely believe how much more indecently cold it had gotten over the past week. She was also surprised by how deeply it bothered her that August didn't own a proper scarf. Emma bit her lip as she thought of the small bandana tied around his neck; distracting her while she tried to hold a conversation with the man and causing her eyes to flicker down to the open neckline of his shirt at the patch of chest hair peaking out from underneath. With no real coverage, riding around on that motorcycle all the time couldn't be comfortable without a little more protection from the icy winds.
So she casually mentioned to Mary Margaret one afternoon that she'd be interested in learning how to make a scarf, and the girl's craft party was born.
After preparing the cocoa and adding honey and milk to the tea, just as Emma knew Mary Margaret preferred it, she carried the mugs carefully back to the living room and set them on the coffee table. She cozied herself up on the couch, pulling a blanket over her feet and taking a sip from her cocoa.
She looked down at the mess she'd left behind and let out another sigh. "So how long have you been doing this?"
Mary Margaret opened her mouth to speak but stopped, knitting her eyebrows together bewilderedly as she wove the ends of the yarn into the blanket. "You know… I don't remember. I feel like I've just always been doing it. Huh. Funny."
Emma cocked her head to the side and wrinkled her nose. "Yeah. Funny…" She set down her mug and took up the jumble of yarn. After pulling it apart again, Mary Margaret scooted over, guiding Emma as she made what she decided was her last attempt. The scarf slowly began to take shape, and although she lost or gained a stitch here or there, the rectangle began to lengthen and turn into something that might actually make for an acceptable gift.
She worked quickly, calling on her roommate whenever she felt stuck or lost, and reached the end of the yarn at last, letting Mary Margaret finish off the ends. The girls held up their finished projects proudly, with several rounds of 'ooh-ing' and 'ah-ing' over the pair of tiny booties.
Emma tried her best to share her excitement, but she was anxious for the party to be over. After the third round of coos that came from the girls, she decided to take matters into her own hands. She pulled out her phone and flipped it open, pressing it to her ear. "Sheriff Swan. Yes. Of course. I'll be right there."
"What was that?" Mary Margaret questioned with a raised eyebrow. Emma knew faking a phone call was lame, but she was desperate for a way out.
"The station," she lied, avoiding eye contact. "Someone skidded into a ditch."
Mary Margaret's eyes narrowed, clearly not buying her excuse. "Isn't that what deputies are for?"
Shrugging as she pulled on her coat, Emma hoped no one would notice the folded up scarf tucked under her arm. "Be back later!" She proclaimed and ducked out the door.
Upon pulling up to their meeting spot, she saw August's silhouette leaning against the well illuminated by the full moon, then noticed his bike was absent and realized guiltily that he'd likely walked there. But it was a windless night and the cold, crisp air was surprisingly comfortable, especially considering how close it was to Christmas. She jumped out of her Bug and approached him with the scarf hidden behind her back, lamenting her lack of gift-wrapping.
"I was beginning to think you weren't going to show up," he teased with that signature smirk she came to adore so dearly.
"I'm sorry. It took a little longer to make your present than I thought, and then I had to pretend I got a call from the station to get out of the apartment." She strode quickly toward him and wrapped her free arm around his neck to pull him in for a kiss and sighed against his lips. "I miss you."
"I miss you, too," he cooed, bringing a hand up to caress her cheek. After a moment, his face turned to confusion. "Wait, did you say you made me something?"
Emma bit her lip and brought the scarf out from behind her back. "Merry Christmas." She watched as he took it from her and held it up for examination. "I know it's a little uneven, and I wasn't sure about the color, but it took me all afternoon, and well, to be honest, Mary Margaret did most of the work, but I really thought you should have a scarf, you know, for when you're riding in the cold and—"
August silenced her with a kiss then pulled away, pressing his forehead to hers. "It's perfect. Thank you."
"You're welcome," she smiled and plucked it from his hands to loop it around his neck.
"Your turn…" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black box. Despite the rational part of her brain telling her that there was no way he could be thinking about proposing, Emma's stomach dropped and her mouth fell ajar. They'd only been together for a month or so, and she'd made it clear that she had no intentions of being tied down, probably ever. Still, she couldn't help but think the box looked awfully ring-shaped and cursed internally at the thought of having to break this off after it had been going so well. "Open it."
With a trembling hand, she lifted the lid and let out a sigh of relief. "Your bracelet?" Grinning up at him, she plucked the accessory from its place and slipped it on her wrist.
"Your bracelet, actually," he corrected and flipped the box closed before shoving it back into his pocket. "Now we match," he added, pulling back his sleeve to reveal the same black beaded bracelet Emma had so often complemented.
She narrowed her eyes playfully. "And where exactly did you learn how to do this?"
"The local kids in Koror would make and sell them to tourists for a dollar. And when I was sober enough to manage, I'd help out."
"Sounds like quite the life."
"It wasn't bad," he mused, looking away coyly for a moment. But when he turned back to her, his eyes were full of something Emma couldn't quite identify. "But it's nothing compared to being here with you."
Fighting a smile, Emma leaned up to kiss him again. It started out soft and chaste, but quickly escalated into a frenzied surge of desperation, and neither had the desire to stop.
August reluctantly broke away, just as Emma began feeling dizzy from lack of oxygen. "It's pretty chilly out here, any chance we can move this indoors? There's another present I'd really like to give you…"
"Well if I know how much those girls like to gossip… and I do, then I'd say there's a pretty good chance Ruby won't be back at the inn for a while. And with Granny closing down the diner alone, we can probably sneak into your room without anyone noticing."
"I like the way you think," he marveled and bent down to kiss her fiercely again.
Emma had to pull away forcefully and take a step back, but failed to free herself fully from his grasp. "Come on," she giggled, "I thought you wanted to move inside?"
"I do, I just… I want to remember this…" he began, his face becoming suddenly serious. "Our first Christmas together. And how happy we are."
"Of course we'll remember," she replied and leaned up to kiss him languidly, nipping at his bottom lip before pulling away. Snow began to fall again, dropping big wet flakes that stuck to their hair and shoulders. She moved backwards and tugged him toward her car by the scarf.
After she brought the engine to life, he leaned over, pulling her face towards his and began to trail hot kisses up her jaw line and down her neck. Emma moaned softly and sucked in a breath. "August, we're not even in your room yet."
"I know…" he muttered between kisses. She felt his hand nudge her thighs apart before making quick work of the fly on her jeans. "But I think we have time for an early present."
Her phone rang suddenly, causing Emma to jump and scramble to locate it in the pocket of her coat.
"Sheriff Swan… uh huh… okay… I'll be there in a few." She slapped the phone shut and looked up sadly at August. "It's the station. For real this time. I have to go in. I'm sorry."
"It's okay. I knew what I was getting into when I started secretly dating the sheriff of a small town."
Emma gave him a flimsy smile and offered to drop him off at the inn. After pulling up, she gazed up sadly at him. "Merry Christmas," she offered weakly.
"Merry Christmas, Ems," he replied and leaned over to peck her on the forehead. She watched him disappear into the building before heading toward the station, wishing she could follow him.
Stopping hard before she'd rolled more than a few feet, she pulled over and parked, rushing to the inn as she dialed the station and let them know she wouldn't be able to make it. Mary Margaret was right; her deputies could handle it, and if she'd learned anything from her craft session that afternoon, it was never to give up.
August opened the door, shock etched on his face, but didn't question her when she pulled him toward the bed, demanding the other present he promised.
"I love you." He pulled Emma close, kissed the top of her head, and stroked her mussed hair.
"I love you, too," she breathed softly, nuzzling against his bare chest, completely satisfied with her decision to stay. Maybe someday she'd agree to go public with their relationship, but for now this was the best she could offer, and was thankful to have a man so willing to wait for her, especially at Christmastime.