Okay folks, so here's my first attempt at Christmas fiction in the "Once Upon A Time" fandom. It could have fit into the show's timeline and events up until the winter finale; it seems it has now been rendered AU though. I still hope you enjoy it and would really love to hear anyone's thoughts and comments once they have read. I don't think it will be very long – about three chapters. I have some other Christmas ideas floating around, and I hope I can get them written before the holidays. Anyway, without further stalling, I still don't own them, and Happy Reading!

Out of the Cold

By: TutorGirlml

Chapter One: Christmas Cookies and Confessions

Emma Swan realizes much later that she should have known things were going too well, her world unusually calm, and she should have been expecting the next disaster to upset it. As it was though, she was merely enjoying the peaceful lull after a hard-fought victory – for the first time in her life, she was getting used to a cozy home and her own family to celebrate the Christmas holiday with. Storybrooke Elementary had let out for the winter break the day before, and the previous evening she and Henry had cuddled up on the couch together after hanging their stockings – sipping hot cocoa and watching the lights twinkle on their tree. Outside snow was covering the world in a white blanket, and even now, at noon the next day, it is still falling silently. She could just make out the glowing twinkle lights that Marco has strung along the awning of his shop across the street and the shimmer of the antique crystal tree that sits in the window display of Gold's pawn shop, both reflecting off the unending sea of white.

It doesn't escape her for one second how very lucky they've been. Henry had been kidnapped, rescued, then trapped in another body in Pandora's Box, then almost separated from everyone he knew and desperately needed by a second curse. Sometimes, Emma has to pinch herself upon realizing that her little boy is still here with them, she has her parents, her friends, a place she belongs, and finally, a chance for the life she has always wanted. That Henry knows her, that he is returning to his old self, that he will let her hold and mother him sometimes, and that he can still smile with an innocence and joy that warms her heart, is all the Christmas gift she will ever need for the rest of her life.

This afternoon, their project is baking Christmas cookies. The warmth from the oven cozily heats the whole small apartment Emma rents; Christmas carols waft cheerily in the air from the iPod speaker dock, and she can't help laughing merrily with Henry as he glances up from rolling out more dough and playfully flicks flour at her. Brushing it off her sleeve, she smirks back at him and dusts it onto the tip of his nose. Soon, the cookie cutting and icing devolves into a flour fight as they grab pinches of the white powder off the counter and throw it at each other – ducking, yelping and slipping on the linoleum floor as they do.

"Oi! What's happening here?" a jovial, masculine voice calls out over their ruckus, followed by the sound of the front door opening and closing in the next room. "Where are you lot?" Killian must have gotten off work at the docks with Eric early – with all the snow they are getting, there can't be many people wanting to go out fishing or sailing. Smiling for just a moment, Emma can picture him in the entryway, kicking off his boots and shaking snow out of his disheveled, jet-black hair.

She and Henry don't give up the flour attack, but instead they lock eyes and silently agree to join forces against the newcomer. Both gather two huge handfuls of the powdery white ingredient and creep to opposite sides of the kitchen arch.

Emma grins at her son evilly, loving the mischievous twinkle in his eye that she gains in response. "In here!" she calls out to Killian, fighting to sound normal. "We're making Christmas cookies!"

They hear him moving closer. "That explains why it smells so wonderful in here," he is saying as he entered, "but what was all the nois—"

At that moment, he is interrupted by the bombarding white cloud that hits him full in the face and from both sides as he steps into the kitchen. Sputtering and coughing as he manages to breathe flour up his nose and down his throat, his words are effectively cut off.

Henry falls bonelessly on the floor laughing, and Emma isn't much better off – doubled over at the waist, hands braced on her thighs, wheezing for breath she's laughing so hard at the priceless, shocked look on his face. Their pirate captain does not stay stunned for long, and he is soon chasing them both around the kitchen island, snarling and vowing revenge on them for teaming up against him. Emma and Henry shriek in mock fear and slip-slide between the spilt flour and their sock feet on the slick surface, and it isn't long before all three of them end up in a tangled heap of arms and legs, panting for air on the floor.

It's at this moment, as Emma moves to sit up, ruffles Henry's hair and, still chuckling easily, catches Killian's eyes over her son's head. The sensation is akin to being caught in an electric fence; her nerve synapses fire that violently. His eyes are so blue that they radiate like a neon sign, and she is frozen for a second, the breath stolen from her lungs. Obviously snared in the moment as well, Emma watches him try unsuccessfully to blink or look anywhere else. Finally, blushing and heated all over, she draws in a shaky breath and forces her own eyes away, focusing back on Henry.

"Alright, kid," she urges, scrambling back onto her feet and pulling him along with her, "bath, bed, and lights out when you're done. Your dad's picking you up early tomorrow to take you sledding."

Henry nods excitedly, and then looks up at her, curious hope in his eyes. "Are you coming too? You could, you know. Dad won't mind."

Studiously, Emma avoids sending another glance Killian's way, not wanting Henry to catch onto the current between them, nor for Killian to feel any guilt over something that was finished long ago, whether he would have come along or not. She sighs, hoping Henry will in time figure out and accept that though she and Neal both love him and share him pleasantly, she will not be falling back into the couple that they once were just to make him happy. Carefully, she simply says, "No, not tomorrow. I have to check in at the station and finish up my shopping before you get back."

Henry, to his credit, only appears disappointed for a second, then with a hug for her and one for Killian, heads down the hall to get ready for bed.

Once he is gone, and they can hear dresser drawers open and shut and the bath water begin to run, Emma lets her eyes wander back to her pirate's face. They study each other heatedly from across the room as seconds tick by and she feels her heart beat faster and faster. Then Killian's eyes darken, smoldering dangerously, and he starts to move toward her, the gaze he rakes over her positively predatory. It is mesmerizing how those cerulean pools can shade to almost indigo with desire when he turns them on her, and she could near down in their depths. "Now, Love," he murmurs, coming nearer and nearer, the way he is stalking her making Emma want to back away, except that her legs have turned to jelly and her knees are locked. Her breath goes fast and shallow as she tries to hold his stare, but she feels bared and her heart flutters nervously, aching to look away. "You're going to pay for that little stunt," he murmurs, while his mouth quirks up at one corner, his expression positively devilish.

Emma can't help the breathy quality in her voice when she attempts to answer and can only hope that it will play into the charade they're engaging in. He has stolen the rest of the air from her lungs. She bites her bottom lip coyly and gazes up at him innocently from under her lashes, murmuring, "Well, you see, I can explain…" She lets her words trail off, seeing the way he swallows hard and fights to stay in control.

"Doesn't matter," he growls, his voice low and rumbling in his chest, "you won't be getting off that easily." He suddenly closes the distance left between them in one fell swoop, pushing her back until they come to a stop against the wall. She lets out a whoosh of air at the sudden impact and brings her hands up to touch his face, only to have him capture them both in his good hand and pin them above her head. She gives a frustrated whimper of protest at not getting to touch him before he dips his head to finally capture her lips with his and swallows any other noise she might make. The feel of his warm, demanding mouth overwhelms her, sending a shudder all along her body; she fights his hold on principle for just a moment, then with a sigh of pleasure, melts into his embrace. His hook comes to rest with gentle pressure at her hip, keeping her right where he wants her, and Emma can only marvel once more at how seamlessly he wields it, as if the metal appendage has always been a part of him.

The fire that kindles between them is immediate and engulfing. Emma finds herself ravenous for more, not sure how she has managed to wait so long to kiss him since the last time they were able to steal a moment alone. Killian won't let her move, holds her hostage, his stubble scratching over her skin, his teeth nipping her lips, taking her over completely and altogether. They have made a decided effort not to act like a couple in front of Henry, to make sure he is happy and settled and well before introducing their relationship to him. Henry has been through a lot, been through trauma and adjustments enough; neither Killian nor Emma want to spring this on him if he might react negatively. They are both in this for the long haul – committed to being there for each other – and hope that Henry will accept their partnership. Though Killian often spends the evening with them, has supper with them, joins them for a movie, or – interestingly enough – adeptly helps Henry with his homework, he has never stayed overnight, not even sneakily once Henry has already gone to sleep. They do not want to hide this from him – only to make sure he will be alright. It is only on nights when Henry is staying with Regina that Emma will slip away down to the docks and spend the night with Killian on the Jolly Roger, lulled to the most peaceful sleep she has ever known by the rocking of the waves and his encircling arms.

"Killian, I-" she finally breaks away enough to pant out, "I need a minute. We'd better take a breath."

He allows her hands free, catching his own breath as well, but then he whirls and catches her again, having somehow gotten his hand on a bit of the leftover cookie dough. Chuckling, he smears it across her cheek, down her neck and over her collarbone, then darts forward to playfully follow the sugary-sweet trail and lick it away.

Emma is giggling at his ticklish "payback" and laughingly swatting at him to back off, even as he sends delicious little shivers skittering over her skin, when they hear the sound of feet pounding down the stairs. Henry skids back into the room, asking, "Hey Mom, do you care if…?"

They freeze, caught, as Henry's question trails off unfinished. Emma flicks her eyes briefly to Killian's – hopeful, apologetic, and a bit frightened all at once. Holding her breath, she turns to face her son, praying for the best and hoping she will find the right words to say.

"What's going on?" Henry asks suspiciously, not by any means stupid and intending to get to the bottom of what he is seeing. "Are you guys together?"

Emma nods silently, not ever intending to tell him another lie. She is gathering herself to explain, but Henry speaks again before she can.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he questions, a look of such hurt appearing on his face that it breaks her heart.

She moves toward him, hoping to wrap her arms around him, but he steps out of her reach. "Henry, I wanted to. I did. But, Killian means a lot to me, and I wanted to make sure you were ready…that you'd understand…"

Realization dawns on the boy's face and his eyes cloud over, anger filling them as he bursts out, "Wait! Is this why you won't give Dad a second chance?! Why you'll never go with us when I invite you? Don't you want us to be a family?"

Emma reaches for him again, beseeching him now. "Henry, yes, more than anything, but not the family you seem to think…"

Henry's having none of it though, just now gathering steam. He rounds on Killian, eyes flashing. "And you! How could you? You're supposed to be a good guy now! I thought you were my friend! You're ruining my family!"

Killian casts his eyes to the floor, not even trying to argue with Henry. Emma knows that those words hurt him – on more levels than one, knowing his past – and her heart breaks again for the man she loves, but going to him now will only make things worse.

"Henry, please…" she tries to calm him down, make things okay again. Her world was so perfect only minutes ago, and now the peace has been hopelessly shattered.

"No!" he yells, backing out of the room. "I don't want to talk to either of you right now. Leave me alone!" He turns on his heel and makes his escape. He darts from the kitchen and toward the front door, barely pausing to jerk his coat roughly from the hook. Emma hurries, trying to catch him, tears already sliding down her cheeks at the way it has all fallen apart. She isn't fast enough though, and Henry is gone – slamming out of their apartment and into the snow.