Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time or "At Last She Comes" by Robert Louis Stevenson.
A/N: This is set post & AU of S3 without Marion and without the CaptainSwan kiss. This is circa Christmas in Storybrooke, centered on the building of CaptainSwan.
"Welcome," Regina swung the big white door open with a tight smile, "Come on in."
"Hi, Mom," Henry hugged Regina swiftly before scurrying into the house.
"Thank you, Regina," Mary-Margaret smiled and held out a pie.
David nodded, scratching at his throat, "Yeah, thanks."
Emma huffed, "Can we actually move into the house, I've got fifteen pounds of baby that keeps drooling on me."
Regina gave Emma a look, one that clearly questioned why she was the one carrying her baby brother and not Charming or Snow. "Please, come in, it's getting cold out there," Regina repeated her invitation, not even flinching when Hook slipped in after Emma, "Everyone."
With an ease that contradicted her vocal protestations Emma shrugged out of her coat all the while keeping the baby calm and stable against her chest. Regina hadn't expected that, she had expected to hear Emma attempting to fob the baby off on someone else. She supposed it might be due to giving Emma the memories of being with Henry, but Regina didn't feel like that answered the conundrum standing in front of her.
No one else seemed to notice the paradox in leather that was Emma Swan. Shaking herself, Regina stepped away from the entrance hall, gesturing everyone to the sitting room where Roland and Robin were already playing. One eye stayed on Emma as non-alcoholic eggnog was passed around; something was still niggling at Regina's senses about the whole thing.
Mary-Margaret gratefully took a cup of the liquid and sipped it, "This is wonderful, Regina."
"Thank you. So, Henry," Regina's focus shifted, "Are you excited for Christmas?"
"Yeah, kind of," Henry admitted, settling onto the floor with a mug of cocoa, he wasn't a fan of eggnog, "I mean I'm too old to believe," the word was whispered, "but I like spending time with my family."
The woman who had adopted and raised Henry smiled softly. Henry had a way of gentling the woman that no one could imitate, "Yeah?"
"Yeah," Henry nodded, "Yesterday Emma and I danced to Billy Idol and she told me all about how she used to buy and wrap Christmas presents for herself before us."
Emma blushed, refocusing on the baby in her arms. It was one thing to share those things with Henry, but for them to become public knowledge was, well, pathetic. Emma had never had a picture perfect childhood, and that included the holidays. When she had gotten away on her own, Emma had made a point of celebrating, just like with her birthdays.
"Billy Idol," Regina asked curiously and loud enough that Emma knew she was meant to join the conversation. "Isn't he that punk rocker with the spiky hair and all that leather?"
Emma nodded, "Yep."
"Ooh," Mary-Margaret giggled, "Did someone have a crush?"
"No," Emma denied flatly.
Killian shook his head, "Lying isn't very becoming, Love."
"I'm not lying," Emma grumbled. "I'm not."
She was lying. Emma's first concert and musical love had been Billy Idol. It had actually been one of her Christmas gifts to herself. Emma had snuck and charmed her way into the concert and fallen in love in one song. His rough and tumble appearance had only helped Emma fall for him. Hell, she still had a little bit of a thing for him, but she wouldn't admit it to anyone.
"He's really cool," Henry added, "He has this really growly voice and wicked guitar solos."
David frowned, "Can we not talk about my daughter have a crush on some rock star?"
"Yeah," Mary-Margaret nudged her husband, "Besides, do you think I haven't had crushes on rock stars?"
"What," David's face dropped, voice dark.
"Never mind," the pale woman smiled, "So Regina, any chance I can get the recipe for the eggnog?"
"Oh no," Regina laughed, "You got yourself into this, you can get yourself out."
"I knew you were evil," Mary-Margaret grumbled into her mug of eggnog.
Rolling her eyes Emma bounced Neal on her hip, his head pillowed against her chest, his hand digging into the skin of her collar roughly. Pacing towards the big tree, Emma lifted her free hand and pointed, "What's that, Neal? Do you see the pretty lights?"
"You're very good with him," Robin said as he approached Emma, having left Roland and Regina to play with Henry. "I'm sorry if I'm overstepping, but I thought you didn't have much experience with children."
"I don't," Emma lied.
Robin nodded, lips forming a straight line, "Of course. Can I get you something to drink?"
"No," Emma shook her head, "I'm fine thanks."
Robin slunk away, leaving Emma to talk softly to Neal. Killian soon joined her instead, leaving the other adults to talk tensely, or as easily as they were capable of, which wasn't very.
Emma shifted to face Killian slightly, "So enjoying your first awkward family Christmas?"
"It's not so bad," Killian offered, "There has been no bloodshed yet."
"Yet," Emma cooed the word, "Isn't that right, Neal, yet."
"You are good with him," Killian rubbed his knuckle against the cherub cheek that wasn't pressed against Emma.
Neal's warmth pressed against her made Emma smile, "It's not so hard. All they really need is love."
There was another lie. It wasn't easy, babies were by default complicated and challenging. It was easier to lie. Killian watched her, watched Emma melt at every gurgle and shift of the baby. He had never seen Emma quite like this. When she interacted with Henry it softened her, certainly, but every moment with him was tinged by a shade of regret. Holding Neal, Emma looked nostalgic and peaceful. She made the perfect picture of motherhood, doting and kind. For fear of making her shy like a deer from a hunter, Killian kept his musings to himself.
Dinner had been slightly tense, no one quite sure what to discuss. Henry and Killian had obliviously and happily filled the silence, discussing everything they could possibly chance upon. They discussed Killian's ice skating lesson, a lesson which had him on his back more than on his feet, and the collection of impressive bruises that were fit to be discussed at the table.
"Mom is a good teacher," Henry smiled at Emma. "She helps me with my homework all the time."
Regina nodded, "That's lovely, Henry."
Emma shifted uncomfortably and leaned over to Killian as a round of chatter about the weather broke out, "This is torture. I need a drink."
Killian coughed and nudged her leg. Emma glanced down to see a bright silver flask tucked between Killian's fingers. She took it with a smile of thanks and waited for the opportune moment of distraction before tipping a heavy measure of the flask into her coke. She passed the flask back and took a swig of her drink, rum and coke, not bad.
"Thanks," Emma breathed as she took another sip, "It is all becoming a little Stepford."
"I don't know what that means, but I know better than to come to a party without a backup plan."
"True," Emma concurred, "I used to have this thigh holster flask, so convenient."
A sharp cry pierced the clatter of plates and utensils. Emma pushed back from the table immediately, "I got it."
"Oh no," Mary-Margaret tried to object, "Emma, you've done so much already, I've got it."
"I'm already done eating," Emma pointed out, "I got it."
Neal had been napping happily in the living room floor during most of dinner, clearly awakening to find himself alone and in an unfamiliar place. Emma sat down beside the tiny baby, hand settling lightly on his back to rub gentle, soothing, circles.
"Hey sweetheart," Emma whispered, "It's okay, I've got you."
The shrill cries wavered before stopping. Emma continued stroking his back, knowing that rhythmic motions helped soothe babies. Emma wasn't unfamiliar with babies. Hell, she had grown up in a group home for most of her life. She had been surrounded by children of all ages. Emma had quickly learned how to care for her pseudo-siblings, it had been difficult at first, but the more Emma had been around them the more she had grown to love them. Not every memory of her childhood was wretched, the children had been bright spots, but there came a point where Emma had been forced to protect herself over them, and that meant leaving them.
It had torn her heart out to give up Henry, to hear his cries and not calm him, hold him. But she had known, the minute she gave an inch she would take him and run. Neal was a second chance of sorts; she could hold him and calm him like she had wished she could have done for Henry. As real as Regina's memories were, Emma could see past the veil, she knew that she hadn't actually been there for Henry, and that broke her all over again.
When Neal settled enough, Emma scooped him up and returned to the dining room, handing him reluctantly to David. Returning to her seat Emma forced a smile, "So, what did I miss?"
"Nothing much," Killian sighed, "Although there was almost a food fight."
"It slipped," David reiterated, "I didn't mean to hit your mother with mashed potatoes."
David's eagerness to hold his son made much more sense. He was using Neal as a human shield.
"Mhm," Mary-Margaret hummed firmly, "Of course it was an accident."
"Well," Regina stood up, "Emma, why don't help me get dessert from the kitchen."
Emma rose from her seat, taking her glass with her; she might need it very soon.
"Give it here," Regina demanded sharply, hand on hip.
Eyes wide, Emma asked innocently, "What?"
"The cup," Regina jerked the glass out of Emma's hand and downed in two swallows, shuddering as she set the glass on the counter, "Rum?"
"It was handy," Emma shrugged, "So is that all you really wanted?"
"No," Regina shook her head slightly as she moved around the kitchen pulling out a bottle of whiskey and pouring it into the now empty glass. "I just needed an out. How you can you put up with how sickeningly sweet they both are, I mean I get it, it's Christmas, but eugh," Regina shuddered.
Emma took the bottle from Regina's hand and took a swig straight from the bottle, "Hey, you really don't have much room to talk. If you do anymore more eye-smiling at Robin Hood you might turn into a puddle of goo, Frosty."
"Shut up," Regina downed her finger of whiskey and reclaimed the bottle from Emma, taking a leaf out of her book and swigging directly from the bottle.
"Hey," Emma chuckled, "It's not a bad thing. You like him. People act stupid when they're in love."
"I am not in love," Regina nearly choked on the offensive word. "You, on the other hand, have that pirate eating out of your hand."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Emma snorted.
"So the puddle of drool I had to clear up before dinner was because he was hungry?"
Emma glared, grabbed the pie off the counter and took another swig of the whiskey before stalking back into the dining room.
If Regina had accused Mary-Margaret and David of being sappy, she had no room to talk. After settling Henry and Roland in to bed, the adults and Neal had sat around with a nightcap, which had quickly descended into caroling. Regina had settled herself in Robin's lap and was practically glowing, which might not have been Emma's imagination considering that magic was a thing.
Shaking herself, Emma excused herself, hugging everyone in the room, even Regina who she left with a little told-you-so. Stepping into the brisk evening air, Emma considered that this was the best Christmas she had ever had, including the concert.
"Swan," Killian called after her, "trying to leave me there, eh?"
Shoulders lifted slightly before dropping, "Not really."
"Could have fooled me, Love," Hook grinned as he dropped his arm around Emma. "So, Christmas Eve, the two of us, what do you want to do?"
"Well," Emma considered, "I did tell Gold I would stop by to watch him light the tree, Regina decided not to go."
"Any way I could dissuade you of that option," Killian asked softly, "Maybe settle for a moonlight stroll?"
Emma shrugged, "I guess you could try."
"Then try I will," the warm voice breathed in her ear before a kiss landed on the corner of Emma's mouth, then her lips.
Turning into the kiss Emma hauled herself up by the edges of Killian's coat, committing herself to the kiss. She dropped back to her feet with a little moan. Eyes roving Emma's face, Killian lifted his hand to brush his fingers through her hair, she was everything.
"At last she comes, O never more in this dear patience of my pain. To leave me lonely as before, or leave my soul alone again," Killian recited, hand cupping Emma's face.
"That's," Emma's brow furrowed, "Robert Louis Stevenson, I love his poems."
His head ducked, "I know, I found your book when you were sick. I rather like the bloke."
"You memorized a poem," Emma smiled, "Why?"
"Because it's true," Killian breathed, eyes flickering from her eyes to her lips and back before Emma pulled him down to her, crushing their lips together. "Emma," he breathed against her lips, "I love you, Emma, just let me love you."
His prayer was lost to the night as Emma's lips sealed over his, her body melting against his as she let him in.
A/N: 11/12. So I'm a huge sap, and getting worse with age. Also I love babies, they are so cuddly. On a more focused note, I think that in certain situations Regina and Emma would definitely team up together, they have a bit of a love-hate friendship going. Ah, well. Happy Holidays, and Merry Christmas Eve.