Two Matching Santa Hats

Emma was half asleep when she heard the apartment door slam shut, followed by the sound of her son tripping over the coat rack (which shouldn't have happened seven months after they moved to their new place, really). She blinked awake enough to roll her eyes and sit up a little on the couch, causing the pirate she was laying on top of to groan and tighten his grip on her waist.

"Hey, kid, how was Regina's?"

Henry sat down in the recliner (him and Killian had both insisted that it was necessary when they were shopping at IKEA in a nearby town) and dropped his backpack on the floor. "It was good. Fun. She was baking for half the morning, which was the best part, but she made me go with her to get a Christmas tree and I had to hang up the lights," Henry said, scrunching his nose up a bit at the last part. "We should start decorating, Mom. It's already December. Grandma and Grandpa already have presents under their tree."

"That's because both of them go completely overboard with everything, and they're determined to make your uncle's first Christmas as great and Santa-filled as possible," Emma replied, reclining back against Killian and pulling the blanket up higher around them.

"What the bloody hell is a Santa?" Killian asked, his bemused expression growing as both Emma and Henry stared at him incredulously.

"First no Christmas, then no Santa? I would hate to grow up where you're from, Killian." Upon discovering that Christmas wasn't celebrated in the Enchanted Forest, Henry had taken it upon himself to inform everyone in Storybrooke about the holiday, not forgetting to mention that presents were given to anyone you considered remotely special in your life (and that he considered them all very dear friends).

Killian had embraced Christmas and all its traditions wholeheartedly, and the first time Emma had caught him and Henry whispering in the kitchen after she came home from the sheriff station, she had dismissed it. When they started to nudge each other whenever a magazine showed up in the mail with things she could possibly want, she had snorted and told them to at least try and be discreet.

They had been failing miserably.

"Is a Santa some kind of treat?"

Killian was a sponge, and was determined to learn as much about the new world he was living in as possible. Some days he came home from the library, arms laden with books, and others he spent watching TV, alternating between HGTV and reality shows (she was trying to convince him that The Real Housewives of Orange County was not actual reality, but he was having none of it). He often surprised Emma with how much he knew, and deep down she knew that all the effort he was making was to assure her that he was going nowhere, so she answered his questions as best as she could.

"No, Santa is kind of like a mythical figure. His whole persona or whatever started with the story of St. Nicholas, who would give gifts to people he thought deserved them on Christmas day. Santa Claus is a good guy who delivers presents to every kid in the world, but he has a list of who's naughty or nice, and he only gives the nice kids presents. The kids on the naughty list get coal. But yeah, he's fat and jolly and wears his Santa suit and hat, and he's got flying reindeer that pull his sleigh – "

"'Flying reindeer'? What sort of abomination is that?" Killian asked, arching his eyebrows as Emma struggled to explain and finally gave up.

"Seriously? You come from a land where there are all sorts of magic and portals and fairy godmothers, and you're questioning the flying reindeer?" Emma retorted. She was more than a little surprised that Henry had stayed quiet all that time, because she doubted that any other person in town knew as much about Santa as he did, but when she glanced at him, he was on his phone, not at all paying attention to the conversation she was having with Killian.

"So, Swan, have you ever met this Santa?" Killian nudged her cheek with his nose and pressed a kiss to her jaw. "Were you on the naughty or nice list?" Emma could feel him smirking against her skin and shifted, her elbow (accidentally) digging into his ribs.

"Santa's not real. Parents tell their kids about him so that they'll behave all year, because Santa can see what they're doing any time he wants."

"Rather intrusive fellow, isn't he?"

Emma chuckled and got up from the couch. "Yeah, but he means well."

The next day, Christmas had arrived at the Swan (and Jones) apartment. Emma, Killian, and Henry had gone together to get the best tree Storybrooke had to offer, and had hung ornaments while listening to Christmas songs and eating gingerbread that Regina had brought over. The fireplace had stockings hanging in front of it, tinsel lining the mantel, and the entire loft smelled like pine. Emma had never had a real Christmas, one with the festivities and decorations and family and presents, and she wanted this one to be different.

They had even gotten matching sweaters.

Killian was a willing participant in everything Emma and Henry wanted to do. He understood very little of the strange traditions that went along with Christmas, but he did understand that it made the two most important people to him happy, and that was all he needed to know. When Henry burst into the living room with his hands behind his back, Killian didn't question it.

"Whatcha got there, kid?" Emma asked, coming around the corner with presents for her parents and brother, already wrapped and topped with bows.

Henry grinned and revealed his surprise. "I got you guys matching hats to go with your sweaters!" He walked up to Emma and tugged the Santa hat down on her head, then went to Killian and did the same. "I've got to take a picture of this."

He made them pose by the tree, arms around each other and identical goofy grins gracing their features as they hit each other in the face with the pompoms attached to their hats over and over again. Henry managed to capture a picture of Emma laughing in mid swing of her pompom, Killian smiling at her even as he held up his hand to avoid getting smacked in the cheek again. Henry rolled his eyes and said that even though he was the teenager, they were the kids.

They framed the picture.