Killian considered himself a confident man. He was Captain Hook, for crying out loud, the most cutthroat pirate to sail the seven seas.
It's just that… well, it's much harder to be confident, cutthroat pirate or not, when you are in an unfamiliar land that is becoming less familiar with every passing day. Just when he started to think he was getting used to the Land Without Magic, all the citizens of Storybrooke decided to wrap their dwellings in wires (ones that sparkled at night he discovered), populate their front lawns with figures of dwarves (much happier than the ones drinking at The Rabbit Hole every night), stags (which seemed to all have a nose infection for some reason) and fat men with white beards and red clothing (some of which had even been possessed so as to sing or jiggle their hips).
Then there was the music. Killian already found this land's take on melody perplexing but now everything had become so much more… jiggly. Or jingly was perhaps the preferred word? Since it seemed to be featured in most of those overly cheerful and increasingly repetitive (and thus annoying) tunes.
Then there was the food. Granny had changed her entire menu overnight. Adding ginger and peppermint and cinnamon to everything that could take a dose (or a dozen!) of the stuff. Little booths seemed to pop up every day on the sidewalks: some selling drinks featuring all the aforementioned flavours (sometimes all at once, much to Killian's dismay), some – baked goods, some – gilded apples (that he was half-convinced were Regina's doing) and miniature walking canes stripped in red and white (that he was absolutely convinced would be of any use only to the cricket back in the Enchanted Forest).
He wasn't even going to start with the trees they kept bringing inside. They did realize that they're basically tree corpses once cut off, right? Right.
Killian was right back to square one where understanding the Land Without Magic was concerned.
And that wasn't even his most pressing concern. No. That title belonged to a certain blonde sheriff.
They had kissed. And they shared some manner of drink (be it coffee, Emma's treasured hot cocoa or an alcoholic beverage) at least twice a week. They had shared a few meals as well, with Henry joining them once before the mayor showed up and whisked him away with a half-exasperated, half-amused smirk for Emma and Killian. He had also gone sailing with the lad a couple more times and another with him and the prince who had claimed that his presence was needed to "supervise the pirate's influence on his grandson".
Overall, he thought he was handling himself tolerably well where Emma and her family were concerned. Her mother excluded, perhaps.
Then the whole Christmas nonsense hit.
/
It starts with Henry, hopping on the barstool next to him and giving his coffee (a beverage he was merely fond of and in no way 'addicted to' despite what Swan claimed) an almost disgusted look.
"This is not festive enough?" the lad shakes his head and makes Ruby a sign to double whatever he ordered before deciding to come and pass judgment on Killian's morning beverage.
"And why, pray tell, does my drink need to be 'festive', lad?" he raises an eyebrow and tries to look at least a little less clueless than he is (which is completely, he is completely clueless and he does not like it one bit).
"'Tis the season!" Henry exclaims with a shit-eating grin.
"Pardon?"
"Oh, sorry! It's my go-to answer for basically anything my moms ask me this month."
The boy has the decency to look a bit sheepish but he is back to grinning like the blasted Cheshire cat the second Ruby puts two steaming cups in front of them. They're topped with more cream than Killian is used to even from Emma's hot cocoa and have little brownish men sticking out of the white puff.
"It's a caramel fudge hot chocolate with gingerbread men!" Henry declares proudly and downs what must be half of his mug and then spends twice as long licking the cream off his face.
Killian nods and waits, hoping that more information is forthcoming, but Henry seems too busy mutilating the little cookie man to pay him any mind. Eventually the pirate clears his throat lightly and tries to make his tone as nonchalant as possible.
"So what is this 'season' you use as an excuse for everything, lad? I'd say it's not that cold of a winter."
"Hmmm? Oh. No, no, not that kind of season. The holiday season, you know? Christmas."
Killian's blank look helps Henry to arrive at the correct conclusion rather quickly.
"Oooh! You have no idea what Christmas is!" he exclaims, eyes wide as if Killian just declared that he doesn't know how to hold a sword properly.
(Or perhaps, Killian thinks, this oversight is even more outrageous than lack of any skill with a sword)
"This will be so much fun! You'll experience it all for the first time!" Henry's eyes light up in seconds and Killian feels himself relax a little and let out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding. "I can't even remember my first Christmas 'cause – you know – baby. But you will! It's gonna be awesome!"
Killian grins back at the boy and thinks that maybe this Christmas thing won't turn out to be so bad after all.
/
He takes it back. He takes it all back.
Christmas, he has been told, is a holiday to celebrate love and family and peace and togetherness and every other pure and shiny and mostly too-good-to-be-true phenomenon out there.
Lies! Christmas, Killian sees now, is all about celebrating greed and cunning and testing one's patience until one snaps and loses one's mind completely. Which is what is going to happen to him, if David drags him into one more shop that sells the exact same pillows as the last two, only in a slightly paler shade of pink. Which apparently makes all the difference.
Three hours ago he was flattered when David knocked on his door and asked him to accompany him on his 'Christmas shopping trip'. Three hours ago he was a fool.
"What about this one?"
"It has kittens on it."
"Yes."
"You said," Killian rubs the bridge of his nose and asks himself why he doesn't just shut up and adopt the 'nod and smile' strategy that he has seen from a number of people in the 'shopping centre' during the last three bloody hours. "You said you wanted one with birds on it."
"… You're right. You're absolutely right. Kittens are cliché. Snow loves birds. Why would she want kittens on her couch when she can have birds? Yes, that's why I brought you along," David nods hurriedly and tosses the pillow aside before moving on to the next section of the shop.
Killian sighs, puts the rudely discarded pillow back where David originally took it from and glances longingly towards the exit for a second.
Why Dave brought him along he has no bloody clue.
"Hook! Come on! I still have to find Emma something! And maybe we should go back and get Henry the bigger bow after all?"
Because the presence of anyone else would have ruined the surprise of the gift-giving, Killian assumes as he drags his feet in the direction of the prince's voice.
"And then I gotta ditch you to get your present. And you can use the time to get my daughter anything I wouldn't want to know about. Which I do not encourage but if you're gonna do it anyway, I'd rather not know about it."
Killian stops a couple of feet from the blond, assimilating the information. Not that he has to get Emma a present – he handled that the day after Henry informed him of the gift-giving custom (and he handled all other present-procuring the day after that – in much less than three hours, thank you very much) – but somehow he's never considered, to this moment, that he'd be on the receiving end of said custom as well.
"The classic teddy bear or the original but slightly weird blue one? Hook? Killian!"
"Hmm? Sorry, mate. Umm, how about the lion instead? To go with his name and all," he shrugs, his own present for the little prince is associated with the noble animal but he sees no harm in sharing the idea.
"That's," David points at him, putting the stuffed lion under his arm. "why I brought you along."
Killian grins back at the prince and thinks that maybe this Christmas thing won't turn out to be so bad after all.
/
He takes it back. He takes it all back.
What the blazes is he supposed to wear that's 'merry'? 'Merry'!
Swan dropped by his room less than an hour ago to announce that they were having dinner and decorating the loft with her parents tonight. Then she sashayed out of the door, while Killian was still trying to understand how exactly he'd be of help in the whole 'decorating' process he knew nothing about, and threw carelessly over her shoulder 'And no black! Wear something merry!'
Merry! Bloody hell!
Sure, he procured clothes that were more in line with the fashion here in Storybrooke a couple of months ago but the 'merriest' he has are the light blue sweater in his hand and the checked shirt lying on his bed. Then again… red seems to be one of the 'colours of Christmas', if not THE colour so maybe he can take out his vest and-
The infernal device Emma insists he carry on him starts making a racket. A racket that resembles that 'Jingle Bell Rock' piece – again courtesy of Emma, who claimed that it 'suits' him and he was baffled long enough to miss his chance to protest.
He is even more confused when he sees a series of numbers instead of Emma or Henry's name on the little, bright screen.
"Hello?"
"Killian, hey! It's Snow."
Oh. Killian is certain that he doesn't have a Snow button. But apparently her Majesty has a button for him. He is… strangely flattered.
"You and Emma are coming over tonight, right?"
"Umm, yes, I believe-"
"Great! Are you allergic to anything? Nuts? Fruit?"
The question takes him by surprise to such an extent that he just stands there, staring at Granny's floral wallpaper and trying to remember, if he has ever been asked such a thing before. It's such a small, innocent question but-
"Killian? Hook? Are you-"
"No. No, I- umm, I don't believe I am," he clears his throat and tries not to let on that he was caught completely off guard.
"Wonderful! I'll see you at 8."
And on that cheerful note the princess hangs up on him, leaving Killian grinning uncertainly at his phone and thinking that maybe this Christmas thing won't turn out to be so bad after all.
/
"I'm starting to feel a bit uncomfortable here," Emma sighs from her perch on the couch, crossing her inactive arms in front of her chest. "Isn't there anything I can do?"
Snow looks at the blonde over her shoulder from where she is perched on a stool, hanging tinsel on the kitchen cabinets.
"Honey, you wanted to hang up my oven mitts," she reminds her gently, shooting Killian a look when he snorts from his position beside the window, painting little forests of fake snow.
"They probably look more festive than all of Regina's house!" exclaims Emma, trying to defend her decorating choices.
"Aaaactually," pipes up Henry with a slightly apologetic look. "That's not true. I was really into everything Christmas-y the last year of kindergarten so she has like tons of decorations."
"Huh," Emma seems to be mentally re-adjusting some things in her head as she takes the cup of hot cocoa that Henry hands her.
"Now, Gramma," Henry twists to look at Snow with his best puppy dog eyes in place. "Can I hang some ornaments on the tree?"
"I'm sorry, Henry," Snow gives him a sweet but firm look. "But unlike your mother I can't just magic my ornaments together after you break them."
The boy flushes a little but isn't deterred for long.
"How about this?!" he grabs a poisonously green garland from one of the boxes. "Where can I hang it?"
"Riiight," Snow slides next to him, deftly taking the object and dropping it back in another box. "We're going for more of a gold and red theme. Just… enjoy your cocoa and help your mom pick a movie, yeah? David should be done with the popcorn in a second."
"Yeah, Henry," the prince comes to the coffee table, depositing three bowls of popcorn. "I could've told you she won't let any of us help."
Snow gives him an evil look while Henry turns around to point indignantly at Killian who is currently hanging a little glass angel on the tree.
"How come he can help?"
"Well, if Ruby was here, she's be allowed near the tree as well," shrugs David. "There's a chosen one every few years."
"I'm your long-lost daughter," grumbles Emma, giving her mother a betrayed look.
"Swan, it's not your mother's fault. Just accept the fact that I have better taste than you."
Emma gasps n indignation, opening and closing her mouth a few times before settling for sticking her tongue at him. And receiving a similar response from the pirate.
"Behave," mutters Snow before holding up an angel and a star in front of Killian. "What do you think?"
Killian hums contemplatively, inspecting the tree, while Emma rolls her eyes and David just shakes his head with a smile.
"Alright, can you two finish this tomorrow over like… tea and biscuits and knitting lessons?" asks Emma with an arched eyebrow.
Snow gives her a look that can only be described as motherly but sighs in resignation and puts the angel and star back in the box. Killian seems more reluctant to abandon their decorating activities but Emma shuffles to the side to make space for him on the love seat she has occupied and wiggles her eyebrows a little in imitation of his own suggestive ways and he finds himself tossing the last of the tinsel to the side.
An hour later the blonde is drooling a little on his shoulder, her leg thrown over his lap and her arm wrapped around his waist to keep herself in place. Henry is wide awake, eyes glued to the flickering screen, and he keeps a running commentary, supplying Killian with all the necessary information to understand what is happening.
The pirate feels someone tap him on the shoulder and looks up to see Snow handing him a cup of tea. He takes it and watches under the glow of the flickering lights as the brunette joins her dozing True Love on the couch and throws the pirate a look of mixed amusement and resignation.
Killian grins back at her and thinks that, yes, this Christmas thing isn't bad at all.