A month or so ago I read a post someone had blogged about christmas fic's and I decided I would create something this year. This fic will be posted over the next seven days on the respective date. I hope you enjoy it. It may seem a little slow to begin with but it will definitely pick up.
Special thanks to ilovemesomekillianjones for her beta skills and for guiding me in the right direction.
And huge thanks to the amazing just-be-magnificent for her fabulous manip, for giving me permission to use it, and for adding the title of the fic to her creation.
Will also be posted on AO3 and Tumblr
December 20th
Emma shivered as she pulled her scarf tighter around her neck, trying desperately to keep the expected cold from her neck. She then tugged her hat a little more securely onto her head, down over her ears, and laced her wool-covered fingers together, securing her gloves. With one last look, she grabbed the handle of her moderately-sized pull-along suitcase and finally exited the airport.
When she decided to spend Christmas in Boston, it seemed an excellent idea. The thoughts of snow and obscurity pulling her from the small town she had made her home. And Boston did not disappoint, at least on the snow side, she was hit with huge, soft, white flakes as soon as she moved away from the automatic doors. She scurried quickly to the line of white cabs she could see over to the side of the busy airport arrivals section, maneuvering expertly around her fellow travelers. If there was one thing she was absolutely an expert on, it was dodging overzealous commuters and travelers. Her many hours traveling, pursuing someone else's dreams had been a great teacher.
She signaled with a semi-free hand to a driver, her overlarge shoulder bag slipping as she did so. She quickly grabbed the bag, not wanting to break her laptop that was tucked securely into the soft leather confines. The man quickly climbed out of the car and jogged the short distance to her, taking her suitcase and heading back.
Emma pulled the back door open and slid in, brushing the snow off her coat and shaking her head slightly, her braids swinging with the movement. It was a thing she did whenever she traveled; French braided her hair to help avoid the bad hair incidents that could arise from leaving it hanging down past her shoulders in her usual style. Now she was as glad as ever as her long hair would probably be frizzy and unsightly due to both the flight, the layover, and the snow.
The driver jumped in behind the steering wheel, blowing on his hands. "It's getting colder," he said, his voice light and friendly.
"Is the snow expected to keep up?" Emma asked as she dug around her huge bag, looking for the piece of paper with the Bed and Breakfast's address.
"Yeah, I think it's here for the holidays," he answered as he started the engine. Emma smiled, looking forward to snuggling with a good book in front of a roaring fire with the snow falling at the window. She finally found the address and read it out for the driver.
Twenty minutes later, and Emma grinned at the brownstones that lined the street they were traveling down. Each home looking picturesque and elegant. The car stopped in front of one of the row houses, and Emma quickly exited the warmth of the car, staring up at the house that would be her home for the next five days.
An elaborate sign hung from an iron post secured in the ground of the small garden that adorned the front of the house, advertising Charming's Bed and Breakfast. A little piece of home on the road. She could see a huge Christmas tree through the bay window, its lights twinkling brightly and invitingly, and there was a holiday wreath hanging on the wide double door, deep green with vibrant holly berries. The taxi driver brought her suitcase to her side and Emma handed him his fare with a healthy tip, after all it was the holidays.
"Thanks," he grinned to her and headed back to his car.
"Merry Christmas," Emma called after him, and he waved his hand in acknowledgment.
She grabbed the handle of her rather heavy suitcase and clumsily headed for the stone steps that led up to the front door. She had only taken a few steps when the door opened, and a figure bounded eagerly down the steps.
"Ms. Swan?" the light-haired man asked with a smile.
"Yes," she answered, beaming at him.
"Great," he acknowledged quickly and took the suitcase from her, lifting it easily and heading back up the stairs with Emma following. As soon as she entered the foyer of the house, she was enveloped in warmth and the smell of cinnamon and apples.
The guy who helped her was shaking the snow off himself as he walked further into the house, her suitcase still in-hand. He was passed in the hallway by a woman with dark hair and a bright smile, who was wiping her hands on an apron and leaving streaks of flour on the material.
"You must be Ms. Swan," she said, brushing a hand absentmindedly at her face and leaving behind a line of flour. "Welcome to Charmings Bed and Breakfast."
"Thank you," Emma returned as she moved further into the house, gawking at the exquisite woodwork evident in the hallway in the form of intricate carvings on the newel post at the bottom of the stairwell and the solid wood crown moldings. "Wow, this place is amazing," she commented as she pulled off her gloves, unwrapped her scarf and tugged off her hat, her blonde braids flying in the process.
"Thank you," the woman said. "We love it. Now let's get you out that coat and into the warmth. I have the coffee pot on, or there's tea if you'd prefer. Or if you're feeling adventurous, I have some mulled cider simmering away."
Emma grinned as she began unfastening her wool coat, "Ya know, I think I'll take some of the cider. It smells divine."
"Great," her host turned and took a step back in the direction she had emerged from. She stopped short and spun quickly back to face Emma. "I'm sorry. I seem to have lost my manners. I'm Mary Margaret Nolan, and you've met David, my husband."
"Emma," Emma said back as she shrugged out of her coat.
'Okay. Just leave your coat there," Mary Margaret pointed to a coat stand beside the door. "David will take it up to your room. Go and make yourself comfortable in the parlor." Mary Margaret pointed out the room with a wave of her hand as she again made off down the hallway.
Emma hung her coat on the stand, draping her scarf over the hook as well, along with her hat and gloves stuffed into the pockets of her cream-colored coat. She flipped her braids forward to hang over the front of her shoulders as she walked through the archway and into the parlor, smiling slightly at the old-fashioned name. She was immediately drawn to the wood-burning fire, blazing brightly, the crackling of the wood and the snapping of the flames sounding like music to her ears. Her feet automatically moved toward it, her hands stretched out, hungry for the warmth. The mantel was a rich mahogany with intricate designs etched into the wood and was adorned with a green Christmas garland with red berries and golden presents intertwined within it, and above that was a lavish mirror, mounted in the same wood as the mantel.
Emma took a quick look at her hair, sighing at the wisps that had escaped the braids then turned her attention to the huge tree in the window. She was a sucker for a good Christmas tree, loving that far more than any other of the festive decorations. As she moved closer, the smell of pine hit her nostrils and her fingers reached out tentatively as she took a closer look at some of the ornaments hanging on the branches. There were a few baubles which had the year printed upon them, ranging from 2010 to 2016 and covered in glitter.
"One for each married year," a deep, accented voice answered her observation, and Emma spun around quickly to see a man sitting completely at ease in a large armchair, half-hidden across the room. "It's one of their stupid traditions," he continued to inform her. "They make one every year at some store downtown."
Emma nodded at him, wondering why he hadn't announced his presence when she had first entered the room.
He lifted the flask in his hand and brought it to his mouth and took a drink, his eyes holding hers. Emma watched hypnotically as his lips encased the neck of the flask and his Adam's apple bobbed with the action of him swallowing the liquid. She'd seen plenty of men in her time taking a simple drink, but this guy, the way his eyes never left hers as he drank, it was sensual and alluring. Emma almost took a step toward him but stopped when Mary Margaret entered the room, carrying a large silver tray with a glass pitcher of amber liquid, and a few Irish Coffee mugs.
Mary Margaret quickly placed the tray on a round, dark wood end table and smiled over to Emma. "I see you met one of our other guests," nodding in the direction of the man who had yet to introduce himself, and Emma snapped herself out of her self-induced catatonic state. "We are actually pretty empty," Mary Margaret continued, "there is just another elderly couple visiting from Arizona. So, if you're not happy with your room, we can move you to another."
"I'm sure it will be fine," Emma answered as she moved closer to Mary Margaret and watched as the other woman carefully poured some mulled cider into one of the glass mugs.
Mary Margaret turned and handed her the beverage with a smile. "This should warm you up."
Emma gratefully took the steaming cup from her and inhaled the spicy scents. She blew on the hot beverage, hoping to cool it enough to partake in, and after a moment, cautiously took a sip. The spiced drink seemed to almost immediately warm her body as soon as she swallowed, then she caught the kick of the rum. "Wow," she said with a smile. "Now that certainly hits the spot."
"Too much rum?" Mary Margaret asked, her eyebrows furrowed in question.
"Not for me," Emma answered as she took another sip. It had been a very long day for her, starting early this morning with Elsa, her best friend in the world, begging her not to go away for the entire holiday. Elsa understood why Emma felt the need for a break from their small, gossip-fueled town, but it was the holidays, and Elsa knew only too well how Emma was affected by this time of the year. She worried how Emma would react this Christmas, after the recent events that had rocked her friend's life. After she had escaped from Elsa's grasp, promising to call daily and spend a significant amount of time on her cell phone, Emma hopped on the plane. Shehad spent an excruciating 12 hours traveling, including a three-hour layover in Washington D.C. In Emma's eyes, the rum was most welcome after finally arriving at her destination.
"Would you like some, Killian?" Mary Margaret turned to the guy in the armchair.
He smirked at her and tipped the flask in his hand toward her.
"I guess not," she laughed as she turned back to Emma. "I bet Killian hasn't bothered to introduced himself?"
Emma shook her head, her eyes involuntarily flickering back to the guy as she moved closer to an armchair by the fire and sank into its soft cushions, taking another sip of her drink.
"No surprises there, then," Mary Margaret laughed as she poured herself a glass full of the mulled cider. Once she had finished, she made the introductions.
"Emma, this is Killian Jones. An old friend who's a pain in the ass but a paying guest, so we tolerate him," Mary Margaret said with a smile and an open hand in Killian's direction.
"Now, lass," Killian said indignantly, his British accent rolling pleasantly off his tongue. "Less of the old," and he smirked at her.
"I was implying we have known each other for a long time. We're practically the same age, remember?" Mary Margaret retorted with a roll of her eyes. "Notice he didn't complain about being called a pain in the ass," she stage-whispered to Emma. Mary Margaret turned back to Killian. "Killian, this is Emma Swan."
"A pleasure, Love," Killian acknowledged the introduction, and Emma smiled as she said, "Hi."
"This is where everyone is," David said as he entered the parlor and looked to Mary Margaret. "I've changed the sheets for Mr. and Mrs. Gleeson, taken Ms. Swan's things up to her room, and put the order in for the groceries."
From his chair, Killian made a whipping noise. Emma suppressed a giggle.
"Did you leave me fresh towels?" Killian asked his friend.
"You know where they are," David replied as he poured himself a glass of mulled cider, then crossed the room to refill Emma's.
Killian looked over to Emma, catching her pale green eyes with his striking blue. "Do you really want to stay here? Next, they'll have you making breakfast."
"God, I hope not. For the sake of the other guests," Emma returned with a laugh.
"I've taken the liberty to light a fire in your room. I hope that's okay?" David said to Emma.
"Are you kidding? Thanks, that's awesome."
This is why she wanted to spend her time in a homey bed and breakfast. For the small personal added extras that make all the difference. A roaring fire and the snow outside were both a super bonus.
"Feel free to use this room whenever you want," Mary Margaret said to Emma. "Mr. and Mrs. Gleeson hardly use it, so your only other possible companion would be Killian."
"I'm just here to make the numbers and see the sights," Killian interjected with a raised brow and a smirk.
"And," Mary Margaret continued, ignoring Killian, "the dining room is just opposite." Emma turned to see where Mary Margaret was indicating. he saw the room through a grand archway made of the same rich mahogany as the wood in the hallway and the parlor.
"Breakfast is usually served from 7am, but these past couple of weeks we've had limited guests, so if you want anything before 8 just let me know. Otherwise, the buffet will be available from 8am."
Emma laughed. "I'm hoping not to be out of bed before 9. Will that be a problem?"
"Not at all," Mary Margaret echoed Emma's laughter.
Emma finished her drink, and when David moved to replenish her glass, she stopped him. "Oh, no more, thanks, or it will go straight to my head," she said. "Actually, I think I'm just gonna go and…"
"Oh, I'm sorry," Mary Margaret gushed, jumping quickly from her own seat beside her husband on an antique loveseat. "You must be exhausted. Let me show you to your room." Mary Margaret took the glass back from Emma, placing it and her own carefully on the silver tray and headed from the room.
Emma turned to David and Killian. "Nice to meet you both."
"You too," David returned with a smile while Killian winked at her as he took another drink from his flask. "Don't worry about him," David explained. "We're still working on disabling that British charm."
"Good luck with that," Emma answered good-heartedly as she left the room to David's laughter.
The room the Nolan's had allotted to Emma was magnificent, dominated by a large, rich, rosewood four-poster bed. Emma couldn't resist the urge to jump onto the overstuffed mattress, covered with a luxurious rose-colored damask comforter. One of her untold secret wishes was to sleep in a bed like this, but never had the opportunity before. What amazed her more was the fact that she hadn't booked this specific room, but now it was hers for the duration of her vacation. She jiggled a little with excitement, thankful no one could see her small girly moment. She'd never live it down.
On either side of the bed were matching rosewood bedside tables, each adorned with elaborate lamps. Also, there was a matching wood desk sitting between the two huge windows that looked down upon the street. At the foot of the bed was an ornate loveseat made with the same wood and upholstered in matching damask to the bedcovers, the drapes at the windows, and the canopy of the bed. This seat faced the roaring fire, and Emma immediately envisioned herself curled on the sofa, reading a good book after a long day of sightseeing.
To the right side of the fireplace, and set back in a recess, there was an armoire, echoing the same wood as the other furniture, which Emma suspected held a TV. On the other side, in another recess, there was a large antique wardrobe. In fact, the whole of the furnishings in the room matched and all had an old world feel to them.
On the back of the main door, she saw her coat hanging on a hanger with her hat, scarf, and gloves on the hook. She noticed that David had placed her suitcase on one of those folding suitcase tables and smiled gratefully to herself. On the small wall between the door and the one to the bathroom was a matching dresser with four drawers and two cupboards. Above this was an elegant mirror. On the dresser, there was a small tray with a portable electric kettle, a small bowl full of packets of coffee, hot chocolate and an array of individually wrapped teabags.
Emma climbed off the bed and headed to her bathroom. She practically melted at the sight of the deep whirlpool tub, separate shower, and double basins, all surrounded by light marble. She didn't bother opening the other door in the bathroom, knowing full well the toilet would be housed there. She then moved to the dresser and opened the cupboards to find one held a small refrigerator. She smiled. The pale rose walls finished the room to perfection. They certainly thought of everything.
A half hour later, Emma had unpacked her belongings and was settled on her loveseat with her book. The fire was still blazing, the snow was still falling, her iPod was playing soft music on the dock beside the bed, and she was content.