Author's Note: So, what is this, you ask? This is a series of one-shots set in the Wildings verse. They will consist of missed moments from the original stories or future events. I just wanted this one little fic put up before Christmas (even though I posted on Tumblr earlier this month). The rest won't appear until Wilding is finished.

Happy Holidays!

Title: The Christmas Spirit

Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time or its characters.

Summary: Canon-compliant, pre-1x06. Preparing for Christmas

"Oh, you are not bringing that in here."

Graham looks up from the tree to see Emma, her arms folded in front of her. Her face is screwed up in annoyance, curls tossed to the side as she shakes her head. He grins. "Bah humbug," he counters drolly.

She scowls. "Seriously, Graham? We don't need a huge fricken Christmas tree in the office," she says, a pout beginning to form on her lips.

He chuckles, standing the tree against the wall. "What's wrong with a Christmas tree? Maybe a few lights?"

She gives him a pointed look. "It's November."

Graham hides his smile as he reaches for the trunk again. "So, we're getting ahead of things. Setting a cheery example for these grumpy townsfolk."

Emma sighs and pushes against her desk as he brings it to the center of the room. "It's not supposed to be set up so early. I'm not ready for all the stupid merriment," she groans out. "Granny's already has so much tinsel and fake snow, I walk out of there with Christmas stuck to my clothes," she grouses.

"I am sorry, Ebbie, but some people just like getting into the spirit," Graham replies cheerfully, brushing the branches to make it look fuller.

She blinks and raises a brow. "Did you just try to feminize Ebenezer in order to insult me?"

He looks up, meeting her eyes with a twinkle of joy that he knows will drive her insane. "Two Christmas Carol references in one conversation. I'm on a roll," he replies.

She tilts back her head and looks away, unsuccessfully hiding her smile. "Just for that, you owe me a drink later."

He shrugs. "That's fine." Anything that allows him more time with her.

She smirks. "Well, that was easy." She walks up and looks at the tree, inventorying it. He tries to hide the fact that he's studying her, the play of emotions across her face as she chews her lip absently. "It's actually kinda nice," she says softly.

He grins, taking the win. "We'll decorate later."

She narrows her eyes. "Hey, buddy, you brought it in. You have to decorate it."

He widens his eyes a little. "You wouldn't help me?" he asks. He's trying to play it up here, but at the same time … he'd like to do this with his deputy.

She huffs half-heartedly. "If you're going to be like that, then, whatever," she says. He pretends like he can't see the shine in her eyes, the happiness at being included. He's getting good at that. "I've never done it before," she says under her breath.

Oh. That's the reason. A life full of foster homes and empty apartments. He can understand that. But she's moving on, walking away, and he knows she doesn't want to talk about it.

"After work," he reminds as he heads to his office.

"Fine," she says, shrugging like she doesn't care, refocusing on her paperwork.

...

X

...

"Shut up, I did not fall asleep," Emma chuckles as they make their way to the diner.

"Oh, I beg to differ. I heard snoring," he teases, taking her arm briefly as they hop over a puddle.

She fakes a punch to his chest and he groans good-naturedly. "Stop spreading lies, Sheriff. People might actually believe you."

He smirks. "And perhaps my deputy should have a little more caffeine before going through paperwork."

"I can't help if it's boring," she says, wrinkling her nose.

Her cheeks and nose are stained pink from the cold, her hair tangled from the icy wind. He smiles at her, trying to ignore the pull to bring her close. He feels things with her, just doing normal everyday stuff, that he has never felt ever before. He swallows and then turns to the door. "Let's get out of this cold."

The bell chimes as they enter, Granny's smiling face greeting them. "Hey, you two! Need some warming up?"

"Yes," Emma all but moans. "My boss owes me a drink."

They step forward, pulling off coats. Ruby is standing beside them with menus, a queer sort of smile on her face.

"Before I get you something, you have to obey traditions," the waitress says with a grin.

"Traditions?" Emma questions.

Ruby's smile becomes a full-on mischievous grin as she points above her. Graham looks up to see a green plant hanging directly over their heads. His stomach flip-flops and he looks back down at his deputy.

Her eyes meet his, panic and something else momentarily entering the gaze. "Mistletoe. Dammit, it's November!" she bemoans again.

"You can't ignore mistletoe! It would be like sacrilege! Ruins the whole holiday spirit!" Ruby chirps, her dark eyes anticipating.

"Well, wouldn't want to do that," Graham replies, cursing the fact that his voice came out huskier than anticipated.

Emma inhales deeply. Finally, she rolls her eyes. "Whatever, not going to make a big deal out of it," she grumbles, grabbing the back of his neck.

The kiss is barely anything more than a brush of lips to his cheek, a kiss between colleagues to anyone watching.

But they don't see the way Emma's eyes have darkened, feel the barest way her heart rate has increased. Don't hear the hitch in Graham's breath, see the tightening of his hands on her waist, a fogged vision behind closed eyelids.

"Merry early Christmas, Graham," she says softly.

Graham beams down at her. "Merry early Christmas, Emma," he responds.

Here is the biggest secret: how their heart swelled with the belief that this Christmas wouldn't be as lonely as all the ones before.