Merry Christmas, Darling

A/N: I got lots of requests for a follow up to the one-shot Silent Nights so here it is! Enjoy the massive amounts of fluff!

The added weight of what seemed like a million presents made the cart somehow easier to steer. He wondered how on earth she always ended up with the broken one?!

"You are absolute shit at picking a decent cart, love," he laughed, amused at her abysmal luck, and kissed the side of her head.

"Shut up," she quipped with a smirk.

He continued to unload his arms, adding even more to their ever growing pile. Tins of cookies, toys, decorations… it brought him more joy than he ever thought possible and warmed him deep in his soul. This life was more than he ever dared to dream of for himself. Where he went, only death had followed… Always leaving him in the aftermath. The lone survivor with no hope for finding something to hang on to.

That is, until she found him.

Once again he had managed to cheat death's grip. The last thing he remembered seeing was that truck coming straight at his driver's side door.

And he knew that was it.

That it was over.

Then there was nothing.

And nothing remained for some terrible unmeasured amount of time where he was lost in darkness. Floating. Not dead, but not truly alive either. He had slept for seven months in that hospital bed. But only for two of them had he been lost in the dark. For the remaining five months, a lovely voice without a face led him to the light as she told him her sad tale. A tale of a lost girl. Alone. Just like him. So he listened. Whenever she came to sit with him and spoke, he always listened.

After simply hearing her voice for a while, he could feel the first time she took his hand. Her skin soft against his own calloused fingers… The first time she crawled into that little bed space and molded herself to his side. The sound of her voice cracking just around the edges when she would cry. All the while, he was trapped within himself. Unable to speak or let her know he could feel her. Unable to grip those fingers that held his own. Or touch her face as she touched his. So when that Christmas Eve came and she made a wish… To hear him followed by a fragile declaration of love with her tear falling to his cheek brought him closer than ever before. It felt like he was standing just on the other side of the glass. So close but still unable to break through. It was the touch of her lips against his allowed him to finally shatter that barrier and emerge from the murky depths and finally… Finally open his eyes.

The first time he beheld his beautiful Emma Swan it felt as if the world stopped and time stood still. But this time, instead of a Neverland of darkness, he was bathed in the light. She was making her way from the room. This golden haired angel that had saved him was leaving. So, from somewhere deep inside, he gathered his strength and spoke for the first time in a very long seven months. He wished he a Merry Christmas back.

Then a wondrous thing happened. She turned to him and he saw the bright green eyes glowing in the twinkling lights that decorated his room, a vision in a sparkling red dress. All it took was for him to return her declaration of love and her hand covered her mouth, choking back sobs, before she ran to him. Finally. Finally he was able to touch her. Kiss her. Wipe her tears. And most importantly, talk to her.

Killian did a lot of talking.

She still visited him for the last week of his stay. Coming as soon as she could after getting off work each day and letting her dog go for a walk. And she would remain there and do as he had with her. She would listen. But there was one night in all those that they didn't talk. On New Year's Eve she sat close to him there in his bed snuggled close to him under the blankets while they watched old movies and shared an unspoken promise for themselves in the form of a kiss at midnight.

On the days he did talk, though, he had much to say. Because he had all of her story, but she had yet to hear his. The first night he opened up, he told her about his childhood. How he too had been abandoned. His mother had died when he was too small to understand. And for some reason, the smell of lavender still to this day made his eyes water and burn with long buried nostalgia. He was pretty sure that was his only memory of her that remained untouched by the flow of time. His father was nothing more than a thief and abandoned him and his brother. Liam, the older brother and father figure he respected and loved, died aboard his ship in the Navy.

The day he was released, she was there. She drove him to his apartment near the harbor and made sure he was set to go back to a life outside of the hospital's walls. He told her he was beyond ready to start living again. And for the first time in forever, he meant it.

In February, the week before Valentine's Day, he told her about Milah. Killian swallowed hard and tensed his jaw quite a bit during that tale that was the freshest sting of loss in his mind. Her hands gripped his tightly as he told her how they found each other while they were busy running from the world and ended up running from it together, never settling down or caring to change. How he loved her strong face and dark curls. And how he fell to the ground with her limp body, changed forever, when she had died so suddenly there in his arms. Only managing to tell him a broken 'I love you' before the life and light faded from her eyes. But when Emma found him, she gave him a reason to hope again. Gave him the courage to believe that he could finally move on and find love again. And he had. God he had.

Winter melted into spring. On the anniversary of the accident, she got a call at work from Smeegle (whom she took to affectionately calling 'Smee' just like Killian always did) asking if she knew where he was. He hadn't shown up for work that day and that never happened unless something was very wrong. Already knowing him so well, it wasn't long into the day before she found him far up the coastline near an old lighthouse. A place of refuge she knew he would run away to when he needed to find calm. They didn't speak that day. She just sat next to him where he dangled his long legs from the open bed of his truck. Emma wrapped a blanket around their shoulders, buried her face in his neck and anchored her arms around his waist like she thought he might disappear if she didn't grip him tightly enough.

Spring evaporated into the heat of summer and they would frequently take the ships he was working on out of the harbor. She would lay with him atop a blanket strewn on the deck, looking up at the stars and listening to his stories. Stories of how the constellations came to be. Of sirens and pirates and men who lost their way only to be led back into the light thanks to the love of a beautiful maiden. He would talk. And she would listen, the stars in her eyes outshining every single one that hung above them in the clear night sky.

Autumn brought shorter days and cooler nights. Nights when they would walk, arm in arm, watching their breath hang in the chilled air as they spoke not only of the past anymore. But of the future. And he dared to dream of many things. Of a life with her, by her side always. Of a home with a view of the sea and the sounds of a family filling it with love. All these things he never thought possible suddenly seemed not so impossible after all.

By the time Thanksgiving came around, Emma Swan was like a whole new person. For eleven months she had loved and been loved. He had climbed her walls and dismantled them, gently and lovingly, brick by brick. But it wasn't just her that had changed… evolved. He too felt like he had been reborn. A new spirit in this life thanks to her. And they both finally had so much to be thankful for. No longer were they lost and broken.

They sat at the long table Mary Margaret had painstakingly decorated, almost literally overflowing with flowers, candles, wine and steaming comfort food. It was something out of a magazine or Norman Rockwell painting. There with all the people they had come to know and love over the year. Mary Margaret, David and their newborn son Leo. Regina, Robin and their two sons Henry and Roland. Ruby, her feisty Granny and now fiancee Victor… And so many more that had become like a huge extended family. They both were finally home. And it took finding each other before they could let themselves get there. Killian finally felt like he belonged somewhere - as a part of something - for the first time in a very long time.

There was another party at the Nolan house that year on Christmas Eve. Once again Emma attended, only this time on the arm of the man she loved. It was right. Everything was right. They ate too much, drank too much, laughed and sang… She had given him everything he ever wanted. Or at least, he hoped she would. The ring of silver and diamonds felt like it weighed a metric ton sitting, waiting, in his pocket that night. Every time she would light up the room with her dazzling smile he shoved his hands into his pockets and rolled it around in his fingers. Each and every smile her eyes always somehow found his. Like in this crowded place she only saw him. He was the only thing that mattered. And he could have wept tears of undeserving joy every single time.

Later that night, in the quiet of their little apartment, Ava snored softly under the lights of their Christmas tree adorned with all of the lights and decorations that she had bought the year before for his hospital room. The world outside was cold, quiet and covered under a freshly fallen blanket of white. They sat on the floor in front of the couch, near the fireplace where their stocking were hung. The fire crackled, flickered and warmed the room. She tucked herself under his arm, her face in its familiar spot of the crook of his neck. And he breathed in the smell of her hair and steadied himself.

"Emma, love," he managed to say as gracefully as possible.

"Yeah?" her voice was sleepy and peaceful in reply.

"Do you remember what you said to me before I woke up last year?"

To this she craned her neck to look at him out of curiosity.

"Yeah…?"

"You said hearing me talk would be the best Christmas gift in the world. Remember?"

"I remember," she smiled against his stubble covered jawline.

"Well… It took me a year, but I've thought of the best Christmas gift in the world for me."

Her green eyes were now glued to him.

"What's that?"

He shifted his weight and pulled the band from his pocket. When her eyes caught sight of the firelight bouncing off the brilliant stone, he heard her breath audibly catch in her throat.

"The best Christmas gift in the world… would be for you to say 'yes'," his eyes crinkled as he gazed at her, hoping she felt even a fraction for him that he did for her.

She looked as if she might cry, tears glazing her wide eyes and for a few torturous seconds all she could do was stare.

"Killian… Of course I'll say yes you idiot," she laughed and sniffled through her tears of joy. He felt like his face might split in half he was smiling so wide.

Sliding the ring on her finger and locking his lips to hers, he promised himself next year she wouldn't cry on Christmas Eve.

He couldn't keep that promise. Not exactly anyway.

Moving boxes, still only halfway unpacked, littered their brand new home. She didn't seem to mind the clutter, but it secretly drove him a bit mad. The new dwelling he had chosen for them was a large with a white picket fence, front porch big enough for a swing and telescope positioned in the front bay window that pointed out to the sea so they might watch the waves break on the beach. They had barely made the house a home since moving in the month before. But, by placing unpacking on the back burner, they had managed to decorate it rather excessively. Emma insisted. She had always dreamed of this. A home of her own shared with someone she loved that would burst at the seams with the love of Christmas.

Yes, it seemed life had other plans that first Christmas Eve in the new home when she presented him with the long rectangular box wrapped in blue paper and tied with a pink ribbon. The one that held a wand marked with two pink lines and a brand new promise for their future. They both cried that night. It wasn't just her.

Five more years passed. Now they stood together, finishing their Christmas shopping in the same store she had bought decorations to brighten his hospital room once upon a time, back when their story had only just began. They had enough toys, treats and goodies for all the young ones in their extended 'family' plus the two of their own. The little boy with dark brown hair, wide green eyes and a freckled face. Named in honor of an uncle he would never know, but was still missed dearly. And the baby girl with hair of golden silk and eyes as blue as the sea who was destined to chart her own course, guided always by love.

Emma still hated the holiday crowds. That much would probably never change. But everything else had. And, true to her word, she cherished every single moment. However, even after all those years by Christmas Eve, the umpteenth listening of 'All I Want for Christmas' still drove her to near physical violence.

That night, as all the children gathered around and watched corny Christmas movies while the adults played games in the kitchen and at the table, drinking eggnog and hot cocoa with whipped cream and cinnamon. Emma and Killian stayed close to each other. Never straying too far from the other's reach. They might have even stolen a quick kiss under the mistletoe Mary Margaret always had hanging while 'Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas' played softly somewhere else in the loft, the sounds of friends and family singing along and making both Emma and Killian alike feel like they had somehow stumbled into a living Christmas card.

Later back at home, she sat in a rocking chair in the nursery that she never had. And she sweetly sang to that beautiful little girl peacefully sleeping in her arms wrapped warmly in her fuzzy pink blanket.

Silent night...

Holy night…

All is calm,

All is bright…

She found Killian still kneeling next to Liam's bed. Holding the hand of his sleeping son to his lips, eyes closed tightly. The way he treated her and their children like they were his most precious treasures never ceased to awe her and make her truly believe that there was nothing more important than they were. Emma greeted him in their living room with a warm embrace, her lips still tasting of cinnamon and chocolate, before they got to work setting out Santa's bounty and carefully filling all of the stockings hanging in a row across the hearth.

"Merry Christmas, my love," he breathed into her neck once their task was complete and they were free to enjoy a few quiet stolen moments.

"Merry Christmas, Killian."

There were no Christmas wishes left to make. Because they had all come true.