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She was standing in a daze in her bedroom while Captain – Killian Jones – Hook straightened her clothes and smoothed down her hair.
Were they going to give each other styling tips now? Because that level of lower lid liner was going to give her bleeding raccoon eyes.
"There, love, that seems a bit less disheveled. Presentable enough. A little buoyant on the top, perhaps." He patted her head.
"It's called sex hair." A challenge, a question, an invitation?
"Uh no, love," his wide grin was carnivorously wolfish; his clear eyes hooded with heat. She felt a familiar tug in her gut and a rapid acceleration in heart rate when he winked. "I believe we'd be missing an important step for that."
"Close enough. Look, Killian, are you going to explain to me what's going on here?"
"No, love. I'm going to show you." He nudged her toward the door with a gentle push. "If you can't go completely on faith then trust in your boy. What's about to happen is as much his idea as mine. Actually probably more Henry's than mine. But I'll pillage a little credit for me self."
"Pirate after all," he whispered into her ear from behind. Then gently nipped at her earlobe, which completely left her off kilter and made the room spin. "As soon as I open that door, remember to smile if for no other reason than for being grateful for how incredibly sound proof your bedchamber is. I know I am."
The door opened to a scattering flurry of movement: Snow at the table, fussing with napkins and silverware, Charming at the counter, uncorking bottles of wine and sniffing the corks. Several former dwarves were opening and closing cupboards and drawers and not just kitchen cupboards and drawers. Gold and Belle stood together quietly in a corner by the front door.
Grumpy was seated alone at the table, absently poking at horn of plenty centerpiece Emma didn't recognize while he muttered forlornly about starvation.
It was a dizzying array of townsfolk bustling through her house.
"Oh there you are, Emma. This gravy of yours is really excellent and these potatoes, a ricer nice touch." Granny was pouring the last of Emma's gravy into a gravy boat. "I've just added some of mine to make sure we had enough."
I own a gravy boat?
"Mom!" Henry ran over paper accordion turkey decoration in hand. "Happy Thanksgiving, Mom."
That's when she saw the rest of the decorations, the balloons and the hand-lettered Thanksgiving banner over the door.
"Nice hair, you two." Ruby winked as she deposited a steaming bowl of green beans on the table while simultaneously slapping Grumpy's wayward had as it gingerly approached the bowl.
"Kid, what's going on here?" Emma could feel the gentle pressure of Hook's hand on the small of her back urging her to take further steps into the room.
"It's Operation Thanksgiving, mom." He grabbed her hand as she stumbled after him in a numb trance. The room was still now, townsfolk and family stood frozen in mid-action like wax figurines. Eyes from all corners were trained on her and Henry; she could feel them burning into her.
Don't think about the sex hair. Don't think about the sex hair. Oh God I have sex hair. It's a very special Thanksgiving walk of shame.
Suddenly she was being hugged fiercely by Snow. "Oh, Emma. When Henry told us you wanted to celebrate this family holiday we got together to help you make it perfect."
"I make hundreds of roast turkeys a year. What's a few more?" Granny sauntered by carrying a dish with mounds of stuffing. "Really I have perfect ovens with perfect timers just for this."
"You guys all thought I would fail?"
"Emma, what your mother is trying to say is we knew how important this was to you and we all wanted to pitch in to. This is us finding a way for you to let us in to your holiday. Not just to the meal. but to the whole event of it. We want it all to be a family tradition." David's hand was warm on her shoulder.
"Yes, Miss Swan. I suggest you char the turkey to a cinder every year. That'll make a fine family heirloom." Regina slid herself into a dining chair. "Are we actually going to start this insipid holiday?"
"Amen, sister." Ruby slapped Grumpy's hand as he reached for a serving spoon in the stuffing bowl.
Emma was led to the table amidst a blur of faces, fervent pats on the back, smiling nods and errant hugs. They plunked her at the head seat.
There was a whirl of activity again; chairs were pulled out, bowls passed around, wine was poured, plates and cutlery clanked. It was an orchestrated discord, a thunderous torrent of conversation, laughter and the contented sighs of happy diners.
Her plate had magically found a way to pile itself almost as high as the centerpiece but she was stone still in shock watching it all.
"Mom, you're not eating."
"Well, mate, she can't possibly eat all that," Killian pilfered a turkey leg from her plate and bit into it greedily. "I must admit, Swan this is a feast I could get used to. Quite tasty."
Regina rolled her eyes in disgust. "If you insist on ignoring your fork could you at least use that ridiculous hook instead of your fingers."
"Never. I need to keep that clear to fend off the admirers and abscond with the libations."
"Delightful."
"I would like to propose a toast," Charming was standing at the far end of the table, glass in the air. "First, to Henry. Henry thank you for helping us to realize how important this was to Emma and finding us all a way to have a part in this day. And second, to Emma. Emma thank you for embracing us as your family. Every day we feel a little bit closer to you. We're thankful to be in your life and the part of those events that mean something to you so they can mean something to all of us."
She relaxed into it then. Watching the faces, feeling the warmth. It was family. It was what she had imagined all those years ago, at the foster homes that didn't celebrate, or couldn't, at the makeshift school feasts for underprivileged children that had nowhere to go.
Not since a tiny Rockport diner that she had stumbled into years ago while skip tracing had she seen anything like this. Now here it was. Now it was hers.
She felt Henry's and Hook's gazes as she began to eat.
It tasted like home.