A week later, Emma and Henry arrive at the wrap party, dressed up for the occasion because what else is she supposed to dress up for in Storybrooke? They've gathered at Jefferson's house, a nice little two bedroom on the other side of town. The furniture has been pushed to the sides of every common room, and Emma can only be thankful that Jeff had the forethought to plan it here and not on the Jolly Roger or the Jewel. There's got to be upwards of 50 people here, crews and casts and friends and family, and there's no way more than 10 could fit on the Jolly Roger on a good day.
(The weather isn't spectacular either, but the late fall breeze wouldn't be unwelcome with all this body heat surrounding them.)
She's got a drink in one hand, waiting for some big announcement Jefferson had teased upon entering the party. She's laughing with Liam at a shitty joke Mulan's told when Jefferson claps his hands and mounts a crate.
"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, I have an enormous announcement," Jefferson says, his arms flying wide and spilling some of his drink over the lip of his glass. It falls just short of Emma's bare toes.
"Not one for the dramatic, are you now, Jeff?" she asks, loud and sarcastic, getting a raucous laugh out of the crowd.
Jefferson gives her an annoyed side eye. Otherwise, he continues as if Emma hadn't interrupted. "I have the great pleasure to tell you guys that the execs loved the show."
"Well, that's always nice to hear," Liam booms.
"And that they want a second, full-season!"
"No way!" Emma shouts, covering her surprised smile with her hand. Henry runs into her, his arms wrapping tightly around her waist.
She'd hoped for a second season, but figured they wouldn't have a clue for another couple of months. The premiere hadn't even aired yet, and it was, in her experience and knowledge, very rare for a brand new series to get picked up at this point in the game. Thus, the job searching.
"So congratulations, everyone!" Jefferson yells over the chaotic din that's broken out. "We're a hit!"
"Technically," Henry says at her side, "the show hasn't premiered yet, so we can't tell if it's a hit."
"Ah, m'boy, that means little," Killian chides him in good nature, appearing at their sides from nowhere. His free hand ruffles her son's hair and Henry beams.
For once - and it's been known to happen on the odd occasion since their tenuous friendship began - Emma agrees with Jones. "Seriously. Think of it this way, we get to stay here."
"We're staying?" Henry asks at the same time Jones says, "You were planning on leaving?"
Emma directs her nod toward the captain. "I've got to go where I can provide for my son," she says simply. And then she grins wide and looks down at the boy. "And right now, that's Storybrooke."
Henry's excited, as she knew he would be. He's practically jumping on her feet. "I can't wait to tell Phillip and Grace."
"Well, Grace is over there with Ruby, so you can tell her now." Gently pushing him toward the little group of kids gathered together in the corner of the room, Emma nods her assent. "Go ahead."
He starts off toward them, but then Henry hesitates and comes back. "Can I have friends over tomorrow?" he asks.
"In the afternoon," Emma responds. With a slight glance - hopefully not too noticeable to anyone but herself - in Jones' direction, she adds, "I have a feeling we're going to want to sleep in tomorrow morning."
Nodding, Henry turns around and bounds toward his friends, yelling their names to grab their attention.
"And just what do you plan on doing that'll force you into a late morning?" Killian asks with a smirk, leaning toward her slightly.
She knew he was going to ask something along those lines, especially if he caught the look she gave him. Which, of course, he did, if the look he's giving her - a look she's seen on many men in bars during late nights - is any indication.
Biting on her bottom lip, Emma smiles. "I'm going to celebrate with my friends because I have a steady job for a little while longer and people who care about me."
"Yes, that is indeed true. An ever growing list, if I'm not to mistaken." Killian takes another step toward her, invading her personal space and Emma can't find it in herself to reprimand him for his bold move. "Henry, of course, the Nolans, Ruby and Granny, the crews-"
"You," she interrupts despite herself. And then she feels her face go blank because now she's the one who's being bold. Nervously, she seeks a bit of validation. "Right?"
Killian chuckles nervously and scratches at his ear. "Me," he admits, "and hopefully it's likewise?"
She feels kind of foolish, like they're middle schoolers with their first crushes. She shrugs, trying and failing to hide her growing smile. "You're alright, I guess."
Killian scoffs, his hand coming up to his chest. "You know how to wound a man, love."
Emma smiles wider, tilting her head to the side. "Let's just say, god forbid, if you were to be lost at sea, I'd help look for you," she says, "and if you were never found, I'd be sad."
Chuckling softly, Jones shakes his head. "Such a way with words, Swan," he says on a sigh. "So eloquent."
And because she's happy, so happy, she goes for it. She grabs his hand at his side and pulls him into her, their noses barely touching, but their bodies are aligned from hip to shoulder. "I'm more of a take-action kind of girl."
"Do tell," he murmurs, leaning forward just enough so the tips of their noses touch. She, in turn, sets her hands atop his shoulders.
"I'll leave the words to you, Jones. How's that sound?"
She feels more than sees him shrug his shoulders beneath her hands. "I think I'm agreeable with that."
It's been so long since Emma's just kissed a man that she becomes a bit too enthusiastic at the prospect. Normally, Killian stands maybe six inches above her, if not less. Now, in her present shoes, they're nearly the same height. When she pushes up on her toes to kiss him, Emma overshoots and her lips end up closer to the crease of his brow than his lips.
Killian chuckles. It seems he leaned down to compensate for their height difference. Emma groans in embarrassment, sinking to her regular height and clunking her head against his chest.
"Now, now, love," he says, tipping her chin up to face him. "We're both a little eager. You've been dreaming about this moment since the day we met. That's nothing to be ashamed about."
His comments make Emma scoff, a real smile growing across her lips as shakes her head. "You're so full of yourself," she mutters, closing the distance between them much more cautiously than before.
When their lips brush against each other, it's steady and surprising. For all the hard exterior bravado he puts on, Killian is soft, both in the pressure he exerts on her lips and the way he holds her. His arms wind around her waist as they give and take. Her arms slide up from his shoulders to around his neck, her fingers finding a sweet spot that makes him shiver at the nape of his neck. Scratching at the hair she feels there, short and coarse, makes him growl, a dark sound starting in the back of his throat and rumbling into hers.
It's not at all what she was expecting, makes her heart pound and her breathing run amok, but then again, when has Killian Jones ever done or been what she was expecting?
Killian leans further into her, his mouth more insistent against hers, forcing her to bend backwards to keep their lips together. She gasps, allowing the perfect opportunity for him to slip his tongue between her lips and tangle with hers. Emma feels a grin on his lips and can't help but respond with her own, a hand coming from behind his head to hold his face, bring him infinitesimally closer to her.
She pulls back quickly when she begins to lose her footing, but not without inner protest. Feeling sort of dazed, she opens her eyes to find his bright blue ones shining down at her. If Emma could keep kissing him – perhaps even more than that – without the threat of Henry or anyone else popping in on them or questioning their motives, she most definitely would. No question.
Alas, even now, Ruby approaches them, their bodies still entwined around the other's, with a martini glass in one hand and a devious smirk growing ever bigger on her lips. She was drunk before Emma got to Jeff's, and Emma wouldn't expect her to have stopped because she arrived. Nor would Emma have expected her to spot her and Killian in the midst of everything facebattling one another and not comment on it.
"Were you two just making out in the middle of a public event?" she asks, loud and brash, whatever drink in her glass swooping perilously close to the edge.
Emma shakes her head furiously, even though her arms are still wrapped around Killian's neck. "Of course not." She licks her lips as she tries to think of a plausible excuse as to why the two of them are so close. Killian casually swings them so the weight of their bodies shift from one foot to the other and it's as she hears the slow music in the background that Emma finds the perfect lie. "We were just dancing," she explains, swaying them more obviously from side to side as if to prove her point. "You know these Jones men." In a more secluded corner of the room, Emma finds Liam dancing similarly with a brunette woman wrapped up in his arms. She nods her head over Ruby's shoulder to direct her gaze as she herself looks up to Killian, a soft smile on her lips. "Nothing but gentlemen."
"Aye," he chuckles, pulling her closer by the waist. "Raised to save a damsel in distress."
Ruby cocks a brow, not understanding something that Emma doesn't want to attempt to understand either. "So you're saying you saved Emma?" she asks.
Killian shakes his head. "She can save herself." But under his breath, meant for her ears only, he adds, "I'm just here to help if you need."
Ruby all but forgotten, Emma feels his words resonate deep inside her. No matter what curve ball she throws at him next, he's going to stay by her side. He's sticking around for a while and Emma can scrupulously say it's the first time in a long time she's believed anyone who's vowed to do that.
0000
In-between seasons have usually been a letdown in Emma's experience. She goes from occasional 14 hour days to nothing. Granted, her place does seem cleaner, and she gets to hang out with Henry more often, but it's very much a 60 to zero lifestyle.
That being said, of all the off seasons she's experienced, this one is the least boring. With the promise of another season on the horizon and a nice system – support, school, etc. – in place, it only makes sense for Emma and Henry to stay in Maine for the winter. She did promise him cold days cuddled up by the fireplace and snowman building sessions. It only seems fair to follow through.
(And she loves it. Honest to God, this winter makes her regret every winter she spent in sunny wherever, without snow and her snow bunny son, with his chubby red cheeks and nearly nonstop laughter.)
What she's not prepared for is the sheer amount of time she spends with people from the show. Emma expected to hang out with Mary Margaret and David simply because they're old friends of hers and they live right next door, but when Robin calls her a week and a half after the wrap party to invite her and Henry to a pre-Thanksgiving get together, she confusedly says they'll be there. Then Ruby invites her to a girls' night down at the Rabbit Hole, as many drinks as you want for five dollars because the season's slowing down and Ruby finds herself bored more often than not at her off-season bartending job.
And then the snow starts in earnest and barely stops enough for the roads to clear and their clothes to dry again. Henry's running off to Jefferson's house for a snowball fight while she drinks with Scarlet and Whale on the front porch, trading horror stories and laughing so loud that both Joneses two and a half blocks away can hear them.
(Killian texts her one specific evening, telling her to calm down and "next time you decide to imbibe the drink, please invite me so I can keep the lads from getting too randy."
"You think I can't smack your men into shape?" she responds.
His answer comes a moment later: "Oh, I know you can. I want to make sure I have a crew afterwards.")
By the time Christmas rolls around, Emma doesn't quite know what to do with herself. For so long, it's just been her and Henry. They'd usually go to Walmart or Home Depot and buy a small potted plant to throw on the few ornaments they had collected, most of them handmade. She'd get a handful of presents for Henry and split them down the middle – half from her and half from Santa. They'd stay up late and watch Christmas movies until they couldn't keep their eyes open on Christmas Eve and laze about on Christmas Day.
But now they have a house – a big house, far bigger than they really need but worth every square inch – that needs decorations inside and outside. It calls for a real Christmas tree, with lights and tinsel and a star on top. Stockings hanging from the actual fireplace mantle and the scent of Christmas cookies wafting through every room: the mere thought makes Emma emotional when she's on her own some nights.
They have friends and people who care for them. When she and Henry sit down to make a list for the people they need to get presents for, Emma nearly cries at how long it is. There's David and Mary Margaret, Jefferson, Mulan, August, Graham, Robin and Regina...
For the first time in a long time, Emma feels like she belongs.
"Liam and Killian!" Henry reminds her, his finger anxiously jabbing the next blank line on the paper. "We have to get something really good for Liam and Killian."
"Why do we have to get something really good for them?" she asks as she reluctantly writes down their names. There's a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach that bubbles up when she adds their names to their list, and it's a bit hard to place, so Emma shoves it further down.
"Because they're our best friends," he says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.
(And it kind of is, when she thinks about it.)
"What about your friends from school? What about them?" she asks in an attempt to distract him.
Henry shrugs and shakes his head. "Liam and Killian are our best friends."
Chuckling, Emma means to correct him - she meant does she need to add any of his school friends' names to her list - but a knock sounds at the door. Both of them tilt their heads to the side: neither of them are expecting any visitor. As the adult of the relationship, unfortunately, Emma stands up and shuffles over the front door, swinging it open and letting in a chill.
Lo and behold, it's Killian himself.
"Speak of the devil," she murmurs, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Is that your way of saying you find me devilishly handsome, Swan?" Killian asks with a twinkle in his eye. It's been showing up a lot more often these days, as a byproduct of their wrap party dalliance, she's sure.
But as for development of whatever it is between them, there's been none. Aside from occasional texts and drive-bys, Emma hasn't really seen or talked either Jones brother since the party. Unsure as to whether Killian was staying away from her, letting her come to him in her own time, or whether she was unconsciously hiding away from him, Emma couldn't say.
(But she does miss them. Him. Henry runs down to their house and says hi at least three times a week when he's off to school or a friend's house. She knows that, and they're less than a mile away, but they just haven't said anything about the elephant in the room and it feels awkward.
So Emma doesn't broach the topic.)
(Whatever she tells Ruby in the aftermath and hangover of that night, Emma ruminates in the memory of making out with her soft, blue-eyed captain more than she would like to admit.)
"No." She ushers him in quickly with a roll of her eyes as the wind picks up, and motions to Henry still sitting on at the table. "We were just coming up with a list of people we need to get Christmas presents for."
Killian smiles, acting honored with a hand to his heart in true Jones-drama fashion. "And I made the cut?" he qualifies. Spinning around on his heel, Killian looks back at her and sends her a wink. "Swan, I'm truly honored."
"Nuh uh." Emma points to Henry with a slight grin. "You should be thanking him. I was more than happy to leave you off the list, but he insisted because he thinks of you and Liam as his best friends."
His expression softens before turning to face her son. He looks truly honored now. "I've never heard kinder sentiments, lad." In a few long strides, Killian situates himself right next to Henry's chair. He reaches out and ruffles his hair. "Thank you, Henry."
Henry's bashful when he says you're welcome - his cheeks rouge and he begins twiddling with his fingers beneath the table. Emma's heart hurts from how happy she is, how much joy she finds in this moment in time. Henry's never really had anyone but her to look up to, but here and now, it feels like Killian is taking on some of that burden.
"So," Killian starts, breaking the moving warmth in the room, "do the Swans have any big Christmas plans?"
Emma shakes her head, settling back into her chair. "We've got a lot of decorating to do before then," she reminds him dolefully, both answering his question and not. "That's where my mind is right now."
Henry asks, "What are you guys doing?"
Killian shrugs. "Nothing special, I suppose," he tells them. "We usually eat dinner with Robin and his clan, but I shouldn't think us welcome in Regina's current condition."
Under her breath, Emma laughs. Regina's well into her second trimester, maybe even the beginning of her third at this rate, reaching the point in her pregnancy where Emma knows nothing matters but finally getting the baby out of her. She remembers those days far too well.
It probably is better that Liam and Killian stay far and away from a woman in such a volatile state, especially during one of the most stressful times of the year. But in no way would she think her own son would suggest the alternative he does.
"Why don't you come and spend Christmas with us?"
Emma's jaw drops and she sharply scolds him. "Henry!"
His eyes meet her from across the table. "I'm serious, Mom," he says. "It's just going to be us and Liam and Killian are going to be alone too. Why shouldn't we be alone together?"
Killian glances at her, then back to Henry. "If it's quite alright with your mother, I would love to," he answers the boy gently, "and I'm sure Liam would think the same."
Henry's face illuminates more than any Christmas tree Emma's seen in her life. Then he turns his begging puppy dog eyes on her. "Mom, please?" he begs.
"I don't know," she responds hesitantly. Her gaze flick between the brown of her son's eyes and the startling blue of Killian's. She relents. "Maybe during the day. But not in the morning," she says sternly. "That's gonna be for me and you, kid."
"You should come over for dinner," Henry offers. "Mom makes spaghetti."
Killian cocks a brow. "Really?" He stares her down, his tongue peeking out from the smirk growing on his lips. "You cook, Swan?"
Holding her ground, Emma casually shrugs. "On occasion."
He nods, his mouth trying - and failing horrendously, she observes - to hide his grin. With a nod of his head, Killian says, "Then I look forward to the day."
Her smile is smug, she knows, she can feel it, but she's very satisfied with how her son's little surprise ends with a win for her. And then she remembers Killian interrupted their family Christmas list making session. "Did you come here for a reason or did you just need to get out of the house?" she asks.
"A little bit of both," he admits, pushing off the back of Henry's chair to scratching behind his ear. "I wanted to see if I could interest you in coming over for dinner tonight."
"Tonight?"
He nods, his eyes darting everywhere that isn't her and his hand moving furiously at the skin behind his ear.
She's suspicious. She narrows her eyes and purses her lips. "What did you do?" Emma grumbles.
"Nothing, hopefully." And his words ring true to her. "Liam sometimes gets a little too into the holiday spirit. He's been baking and cooking all day and though the house smells heavenly, I am merely one man and cannot possibly eat close to a quarter of what he's made," Killian explains. "So I called up the lads and some other neighbors and invited them over and thought I'd swing by and invite you and your boy."
Jones' sentence is barely finished when Henry says, "We'll be there."
"Henry," she reprimands.
(What is up with him, she wonders to herself. He's never been this obstinate and she of all people would know how stubborn her son can be.)
"Mom, you were going to say yes anyways," he mumbles, rolling his eyes. That takes Emma aback even further, but Henry doesn't seem to notice. Instead, he turns to look up at Killian. "What did Liam bake?"
"A few dozen batches of cookies, a lasagna or three, and there may have been some homemade jam as well," Killian rattles off, ticking each one off his fingers.
Just the list of food has Emma practically drooling. She looks to Henry, whose eyes are wide as saucers and his mouth gaping open. "Yeah, we're definitely going to be there," she decides immediately. "What time?"
"Whenever pleases you." Killian gestures to the door he'd entered through a few minutes before. "We can walk back together now, if you so wish."
"Can we, Mom, please?" Henry pleads. "We want to get all the good cookies before Will comes and steals them all."
Opening her mouth to respond, it's cut off by the clicking of Jones' tongue. "The lad's got a fair point, Swan," he says, turning a swarthy look on her. "You know Scarlet will scarf down everything in sight."
After scrunching up her nose - she's displeased to say the least at her coworker and son banding against her - Emma groans, turning to Henry. "Did you do all your homework?"
"Not my math."
"Take it with you," she says reluctantly. "Maybe Killian will be better help than me."
"Oh, well, I, uh," Killian says, stumbling over his words. That makes her smile. For once the tables have turned and she's caught him off guard.
But Henry's already cheering, excited to be having this huge dinner with the people he's grown to love.
Emma - she's just excited to see her son so happy.
They gather up their warm clothes, Henry his backpack from upstairs, and then they're out the door. Henry, in a great impression of the Tasmanian devil, whirls down the porch steps and is halfway out the gate while Emma turns around to lock up the door.
"Honestly, Swan, I don't know why you insist on locking up your home," Jones grumbles at her side. "You know practically everyone in town. The town knows you and the lad. What do you think should come to pass if you don't lock the door?"
She shrugs, watching Henry hurry down the sidewalk to the Jones' house. "Old habits, I guess." A brief look at his face shows him unsatisfied with her answer. "You know me. We were in Phoenix before we were here, and L.A. and Baltimore before that." She shrugs again. "I guess I've just always lived in cities."
"Oh, so it's not because you don't trust a soul in this town," he says, pushing and holding the gate open for her. "Because, honestly, love, I hope there's at least one person in Storybrooke you trust enough."
Emma giggles and hums. "And who do you hope that it is?" she asks him, already knowing the answer. Stopping short on the sidewalk, she faces him. "You, Jones?"
The question hangs in the air as they silently make their way through the cold and around the corner to his and his brother's home. It's similarly big as hers, though a light blue instead of a gray. The porch doesn't extend all the way around, but it covers most of the front. Even from here, Emma can spot their backyard, shadows dancing across the lawn from people inside. They extend as far as the wooden walkway, on which the other side harbor waters lie. Even before her son claimed the Jones brothers as their best friends, she could've said this was a perfect house for them.
Henry's already made it to the front porch. Emma can see him knocking on the door from the sidewalk.
Jones doesn't answer her question until they step up to the front door. He reaches for her arm, squeezing her forearm before shrugging, a boyish quality taking over his body language. "It'd be an honor of mine," he tells her, not a hint of teasing to be heard. "But in the unfortunate case it is not, then I'd be glad to know that you've got someone to lean on."
Emma chuckles. "You know, your brother said something eerily similar when we first met."
Opening the gate for her, Killian laughs as well. "Honestly, Swan, it's like you forget who raised me." He leans in to her, close enough for her to smell the cologne he must have sprayed before coming to visit them. "I know who my confidante is," he whispers conspiratorially to her, winking. "I happen to be standing next to her. She's quite enticing, even when she's yelling at me."
His words really touch her, even with their slight jab at her temper, but she doesn't have time to contemplate them for her attention is immediately focusing on the ruckus from inside. It sounds like something fragile just hit the floor and shattered. "How many people did you invite?" she asks.
Killian chuckles and pats her on the shoulder. "Come now, Swan, it's a spontaneous dinner," he reminds her. "Can't have dinner without the entire crew."
He opens the door to reveal literally the whole crew: all trawlers from both of their ships and assorted family members parade through the house. Emma spots David and Robin in the corner with beers in hand and August and Mary Margaret chatting in another. She's been to crew dinners before, but she doesn't even know half of these people.
"Are you sure Liam made enough food?" she asks him quietly, stripping off her jacket.
"Definitely," he assures her, taking her coat and somehow finding it a spot on the crowded coat rack. "Funnily enough, Swan, this is not the biggest crowd we've ever had in this house."
She grimaces. "I'd hate to have been there."
He gently pushes her toward the center of the madness. "Don't be prickly. Who knows, maybe you'll have a good time."
Emma groans and drags her feet as she makes her way toward the kitchen and the admittedly heavenly smells that waft from that direction. There's got to be a bottle of beer and a handful of Christmas cookies with her name on them somewhere in this house.
a/n: I know it seems like there's a lot of time jumps in this story, but they'll calm down soon. Ish. Promise.
As always, thank you, thank you, thank you to sotheylived, queen-icicle-fandom, shipsxahoy, and captainswanbigbang for doing their parts in this story. If you feel so inclined, go ahead and leave a comment or message me on the tumblr. I've spent all day with screaming children, I'm already impervious. :)