Author's Note: This idea, in all its ridiculous cheesiness, came to me out of the blue and it was so ridiculously cheesy that I figured I had to write it. The idea lent itself more to a one-sitting, no-editing flashfic, so here we be! 1234 words of Hallmark-holiday-movie-level cheese and sugar, so please have a toothbrush handy. Feedback is a fanfic writer's holiday haul. Happy holidays! Enjoy. :)
This was the kind of Christmas Eve Emma had always dreamed about. As of right this very moment, she was snuggled up on her parents' sofa with her pirate. Henry was seated on the floor at their feet, a bowl of popcorn at the ready. Her parents had each stretched out in an arm chair and Snow was trying to settle little Neal down for the night.
All in all, it was quiet and peaceful and filled with loving togetherness. It was the kind of Christmas Eve the little girl who didn't matter and didn't think she ever would had always wanted. And now, she was finally getting it.
"Wait, love, I don't understand," Killian murmured to Emma.
Emma tore her eyes from the television, upon which The Santa Clause was playing, to focus on her pirate. "What don't you get?"
"I thought this was a Land Without Magic."
"It is."
"Then how does this Santa Claus gentleman fly through the air in a sleigh being pulled by reindeer?"
Out of the corner of her eye, Emma saw Snow hide a smirk. "He doesn't," she said to Killian. "Santa Claus is just a story parents in this world tell their kids around this time of year."
Killian furrowed his brow. "Why?"
Emma shrugged. "To give them some magic in a land without it, I guess." Truthfully, she didn't have a lot of experience with the story of Santa Claus, herself. All the group homes she was in around the holidays tried but there was always some jackass older kid who would ruin the magic for the younger kids. Plus, it was hard to believe in Christmas magic when year after year, her own Christmas wish went unanswered.
(Once she found out for real that Santa Claus was just a story, Emma had enjoyed being in on the secret and helping the directors keep the magic alive for the little kids.)
Of course, she could hardly explain all of that to Killian with her parents sitting right there so she was thankful when he accepted that explanation and let the subject drop. As everyone settled back into movie-watching mode, Emma snuggled impossibly closer to Killian. When he dropped a kiss on the top of her head and her parents smiled in response, Emma was once again struck by how utterly perfect this Christmas Eve was.
A couple of centuries of captaining a pirate crew left Killian a fairly light sleeper so he wasn't at all surprised when a thump startled him out of his slumber. His Swan, on the other hand, slept like the dead, so he also wasn't at all surprised to find her still curled up beside him, taking over half of his pillow.
In the soft moonlight filtering in from the loft bedroom window, Killian couldn't see anything that would have accounted for the thump that had woken him. Henry was also still asleep, sprawled out in the daybed that he was rapidly outgrowing.
And then he heard it again, a soft thump. This time, he was able to tell that it was coming from downstairs. Just as he threw the covers off his legs to investigate, a baby whimper floated up to him from the bedroom below. There was an almost immediate soft murmur, and Killian stood down.
Either the prince or the princess had simply gotten up with the baby.
Content now that nothing was wrong, Killian curled back up with his Swan and let her deep, even breathing lull him back to sleep.
Emma could have kicked herself for forgetting the Christmas tradition of getting up at the ass-crack of dawn to open presents. One minute, she'd been blissfully snoozing away and the next, Henry was flopping down at the foot of her mattress to wake her up so they could get Christmas morning going. "Merry Christmas!" he exclaimed, purposely being as annoying as he possibly could.
"Ugh," she groaned, much to Killian's amusement, if his soft chuckle was anything to go by.
She remained still until one – or maybe both – of her boys pulled the comforter off her face, letting the chilly morning air hit her full force. "All right, all right, I'm up," she mumbled. After sitting up and rubbing her eyes, she finally returned the holiday sentiment to her guys.
The sticky sweet aroma of baking cinnamon rolls wafted up the stairs and instantly made Emma's mouth water. "I take it that's breakfast I smell," she said as she climbed out of bed.
"Aye, love," Killian replied. "Your mother asked us to wake you because it's almost ready."
Once downstairs, a flurry of hugs and good mornings and merry Christmases were exchanged. Only as Emma was sitting down did she notice two large rectangular presents propped up beside the Christmas tree that she was pretty sure weren't there the night before. "Hey, when'd you bring those out?" she asked her mother.
Snow frowned at her from the stove. "When did I bring what out?"
Emma pointed to the presents. "Those."
The identical perplexed expressions on her parents' faces indicated that they were just as clueless about the new presents as she was. She switched her gaze to Henry and Killian, who both shrugged at her.
So her boys didn't put those presents out, either. They didn't come from her and they certainly didn't come from her baby brother, so what the hell? "Maybe they're from Santa," Henry said jokingly, giving another shrug.
"Very funny, kid." Emma stood and crossed the room to the tree. Neither present had a tag on it. "They're not marked."
Everyone now crowded around the tree, the cinnamon rolls momentarily forgotten. David handed little Neal to Snow and pulled the mystery presents towards him.
The five of them exchanged a glance and as one, David and Henry each unwrapped one of the gifts.
Inside was an ornately framed and beautifully painted family portrait of the six of them: four adults, one thirteen-year-old, and one little squirt. A portrait they'd never sat for and none of them had commissioned. At the sight of the painting, Snow's and David's eyes filled with tears and Emma had to swallow hard to dislodge the lump that had risen in her throat.
"There's one for the apartment and one for your house, Emma," David said, his voice low in wonder.
Emma drew a gentle finger down the painted canvas. "Where the hell did these come from?"
All of a sudden, Killian said, "Did either of you get up with the baby around three?"
Emma didn't understand, not until both Snow and David shook their heads. "I was up with him about an hour later," David said, "but not before."
"And I was so tired, I didn't hear him all night," Snow added.
"Why?" Emma asked her pirate.
"Someone walking around downstairs woke me this morning. I assumed it was them."
Everyone exchanged a glance. It was Henry who recited, "'And I heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight …'"
"I thought you said Santa Claus was just a story," Killian said.
"He is," Emma said. "At least, I thought he was." Then again, she'd once thought Snow White and Prince Charming and Captain Hook were all just stories, too, so maybe … "Maybe Christmas magic exists after all."