"It's one night, Swan. You've brought four different shirts."
Emma muttered something decidedly un-holiday under her breath, focusing her attention on folding up another pair of jeans instead of staring at the smirk she was certain was on his face – her boyfriend's face.
She had a boyfriend.
Her boyfriend was the captain of the New York Rangers. Her boyfriend, captain of the New York Rangers was bringing her to his foster parents very large, very tradition-filled brownstone downtown that afternoon for back-to-back days of Christmas festivities and, apparently, some sort of bread pudding that he'd once again reminded her she had to pretend to actually like.
And Mary Margaret had nearly hit the ceiling when she actually jumped for joy the week before, Killian walking into the apartment and casually mentioning something about Emma coming for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.
She'd hugged Emma and then hugged Killian and Emma rolled her eyes while David just looked passably amused.
Emma stuffed the jeans into the bag in front of her, sitting cross-legged in front of the couch she was, somehow, still sleeping on. At some point she should probably start looking for a place of her own if only because Mary Margaret kept getting a bit glossy-eyed whenever she saw Killian kiss the side of Emma's head when they sat next to each other on that very same couch.
Maybe then they could go on a real date too. She should probably ask him on a real date, something that didn't involve sitting on Mary Margaret's couch or his couch or his bed – even though that last one was kind of fun.
David, at least, hadn't gone through any sort of overprotective speech yet. Emma had a sinking suspicion it was because he wanted playoff tickets.
He had, however, muttered a quiet have fun before he and Mary Margaret walked out the door the day before, loaded down with their own bags and a scrapbook jam-packed with wedding details they'd probably have to show to every single person in that tiny Maine town.
She would have fun.
She would also impress her boyfriend's family because Emma Swan had never done anything quite like this before.
It had been terrifying enough to ask if Liam's invitation had been real, but she'd sat in the lobby of Killian's apartment building for half an hour, determined to be almost normal when it came to those emotional types of conversations and then he'd asked her and she couldn't quite ignore the way her stomach flipped at the question and the hope in his voice.
So she'd said yes and promised to, at least, pretend to like the bread pudding. But then he'd followed up with another question and another tradition and it shouldn't have really surprised her. Emma hadn't met Mrs. Vankald yet, but she sounded like Ruth on mother-based steroids, so of course there was some sort of Christmas Eve thing that probably included matching pajama sets.
Killian hadn't said if that would happen or not.
And Emma hadn't asked because, deep down, she was still just a bit terrified at the prospect of doing this and being the girlfriend in some sort of overwhelming type of way that had her thinking very specific things again.
One major life event at a time.
They'd get there eventually. It had only been a couple of months.
She'd been thinking it for weeks.
God, maybe she should bring another dress. What if they were supposed to dress up for dinner?
"Is there a dress behind you?" Emma asked, pushing on the small mountain of clothes she'd managed to fit in one duffel bag.
"Why would you need a dress?" Killian countered. The floor creaked when he moved, crouching down next to her as he tugged her hands away and leveled her with a knowing stare.
"You tell me."
"You don't need a dress, Swan. Or half the clothes you've actually put in there."
"But what if…"
Killian shook his head. "No, no what ifs. It's going to be fine. It's going to be better than fine, in fact. You could show up in team-branded merch and sweats and it would still be fine."
"I don't have team-branded sweats."
"Tell Zelena that, she'll get you some."
Her laugh was still a bit nervous, but Emma could feel that coil of anxiety that had taken up residence in the pit of her stomach start to loosen just a bit and that might have been because of the smirk. She didn't tell Killian that.
"I'm not going to wear sweatpants to meet your entire family," she mumbled, yanking the zipper of the duffel bag closed with just a bit more force than actually necessary. Killian narrowed his eyes and the smirk faltered for half a second – he was nervous too. "Are there pajama sets involved though?"
"What?"
"You know like those matching pajama sets that people get from their families on Christmas and then they take pictures and make them their Christmas cards the next year. It seems like there would be pajama sets."
"Not that I'm aware of and if there are, I'm not wearing any."
"Got to maintain that image, huh?"
"Something like that," Killian laughed, pushing off of the floor and holding his hand out for Emma. She took it without question, thumb brushing over a particularly raised scar that ran down past his wrist.
He didn't say anything at that, but she could see his chest move when he took a deep breath, tongue darting out over his lips and the smirk was a bit more genuine than it had been the entire day. Emma kicked at the duffel bag in front of her, wondering why she didn't have any luggage that was somewhere between industrial sized and this and there wasn't only clothing in there – Killian didn't know that either.
Sentiment was a distinct work in progress.
"It's going to be fine, Swan," Killian said again, squeezing her hand slightly as if that would make her slightly less nervous.
"So you've mentioned. They know I'm coming, right? Like they know I'm staying and you're just kind of throwing me into these familial traditions?"
"I don't know where you got the impression I'd be throwing you anywhere, love, but yeah, they know you're coming. It's all El has talked about for the last week."
Emma bit her lip tightly and scrunched her nose and the coil was a bit tighter again, nerves rushing back in one foul swoop of sentiment and that thing that was stuffed into the bottom corner of her duffel bag.
He noticed immediately, hand moving away from hers until his thumb was brushing on the side of her jaw as he tilted his head. "Hey," Killian said softly and Emma closed one of her eyes, twisting her lips at his tone. "Aside from my certainty that it's going to be absolutely fine, I'm glad you're going to be there. Have I mentioned that?"
"A few times."
"Let's try it again then. I'm glad you're going to be there. I want you to be there. Sometimes it's...it doesn't matter." He leaned forward, brushing his lips over her forehead and Emma wasn't sure if she was laughing or sighing or just swooning, but her shoulders sagged a bit when Killian's fingers found their way into her hair. "It could be an absolute disaster, which it won't be, but it could be and I'd still want you there. Consistently."
"Romantic," Emma mumbled.
"Charming, Swan. We've been over this."
"I like you anyway," she said quickly, hand falling on the front of his team-branded t-shirt. Killian nodded slowly, smile inching across his face as his phone vibrated on the coffee table. "Even if you wear team-branded from eighteen seasons ago."
"It's hardly been that long, Swan. This is," he glanced down at the shirt, gripped tightly in between her fingers, "third season. At the earliest."
Emma laughed, a smile on her face and that kept happening – even with the titles and the impending family and she was going to stay overnight at a brownstone downtown with, maybe, pajama sets and probably presents and she'd bought them presents. She had gifts for people she'd never met and team-branded t-shirts for the twins that hadn't actually been released in stores yet. They'd picked out gifts for Mr. and Mrs. Vankald together, walking hand in hand through Bryant Park the week before when Killian, inexplicably had an off day and no film to watch or a skid to snap.
They'd won after she'd spent half an hour sitting in the lobby of his apartment building and Emma knew, knew, it wasn't because of that, but he'd gotten first star again and if she were the kind of person who believed in things like that, she probably would have thought that felt important.
And she'd kept replaying that day in the back of her mind, images flitting behind closed eyes whenever she tried to fall asleep on Mary Margaret's decidedly uncomfortable couch – how warm his hand always felt in hers, even through gloves and a frustratingly packed Bryant Park, chock full of tourists who weren't aware you couldn't just stop in the middle of the sidewalk to take pictures of the skyline, and there was a store with hand stitched pillows and Killian's face lit up when he saw them, bright eyes and a smile that made Emma's stomach do something ridiculous. The owner was a Rangers fan and given them a discount and made Killian promise to win the Cup and he'd agreed without missing a beat, hand tightening just a bit in Emma's as he took the bag and the pillow. He wrote both their names on the card.
She'd tried to argue, something about how she needed to buy them a gift on her own to live up to some sort of girlfriend expectation she'd gleaned from the romantic comedies Mary Margaret loved, but Killian just shook his head and kissed the top of her hair and Emma wasn't sure when that became a thing, but then he muttered in her ear and she couldn't come up with a single argument.
Together.
He'd said together and Emma had never heard that word, had never let herself believe in even the idea of the word, but then Killian Jones, captain of the goddamn New York Rangers, had shown up and worked his way into everything and there was no way to argue the idea of together anymore.
"The car's here," Killian said, nodding towards his phone and if they didn't leave soon they were absolutely going to be late. He might not know about the possibility of pajama sets on Christmas Eve, but there was, apparently, some sort of schedule that they absolutely had to stick to.
Emma took a deep breath and nodded once, not certain why she was agreeing to the very obvious point that the car was there. She needed to relax. It was just a day. Well, two days and a night and dinner and Christmas morning and God where were they going to sleep? Were they going to sleep in the same room?
How was she ever going to fall asleep in Killian Jones' childhood bedroom?
She should have asked more questions.
"Swan," Killian said and his voice was more intent than sharp, eyes narrowed just a bit like he was willing her to believe him. "They're going to love you."
She scoffed as his phone stopped ringing only to start again immediately and they were absolutely going to be late. "It's just," she sputtered, rocking back and forth on her feet. She still hadn't let go of his shirt. "I've never done this before."
"Neither have I."
"What?" She hadn't expected that. Killian hummed, lower lip pressed out slightly when he nodded. "But you said...before...when you...Liam knew."
"Yeah," Killian agreed. "He knew. He never actually met her though. None of them did and certainly not in some kind of national holiday type moment."
Emma opened her mouth, a string of questions on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't quite bring herself to actually ask any of them, not when he was staring at her like that, hands heavy on her hips. She might have been holding onto his shirt as a team-branded life vest at that point. Killian's smile widened and Emma could feel it when he leaned forward, kissing her lightly and quickly and it meant something bigger than both of those things.
"I want you there," he said again, but he didn't sound frustrated at the need to repeat himself once more. He sounded like he just wanted Emma to believe him, still smiling as he answered his phone and promised the slightly frustrated Uber driver that they were absolutely on their way downstairs.
Emma pressed up on tiptoes as soon as the phone was back in his pocket, kissing his cheek and brushing her fingers through his hair. His chest moved slightly when he laughed. "Come on, we're going to be late. I hear the bread pudding downtown is excellent."
The house was huge.
No, that wasn't a big enough word. It was bigger than huge. What was a bigger word than huge? Enormous? Intimidating?
Ah, there it was.
The house was intimidating.
Emma stepped out of the cab, eyes going wide as soon as she saw the brownstone in front of her and she glanced over her shoulder, staring at Killian as he slammed the door shut behind him, a bag on his shoulder and another in his hand.
"What?" he asked, sounding genuinely surprised at the look on her face.
"Are you kidding me?"
"That's not an answer, Swan."
"That house is enormous! Are you seeing this? God, look at all the windows! How many windows are in this house?"
"I have no idea. I've never counted the windows."
"What? How could you not? How was that not the first thing you did when you saw this house? God, it's enormous."
Killian laughed softly, taking a step towards her and his left hand found her right, just as warm as it always was. "I'd say at least twenty windows. If I had to guess. You've got to include the backside too."
"Ah, well, of course," Emma mumbled, head falling onto his shoulder.
Her eyes traced over the rest of the house – counting only eight windows on the front facade and that was more than there were in Mary Margaret's entire apartment – brick covered in rows of green, garland that wasn't actually garland because it was really lines of shrubbery and that wasn't really the right word either.
She'd gotten out of the cab and lost her ability to form coherent sentences.
There were lights too, dozens of strands of white fairy lights wrapped around wrought iron railings and perfectly lined around those eight windows she could count in front of her and it looked like a picture, some sort of idyllic scene that should probably be on the cover of a guide book titled Why New York is Better Than any Other City at Christmas.
That was a very wordy title.
"Who decorates the house?" Emma asked as Killian tugged her towards the front steps. God, it smelled like Christmas. They probably had a fireplace too.
"Oh that is strictly Mr. V territory," Killian laughed, shifting the strap of the bag on his shoulder. He didn't let go of her hand. "It's very serious business."
"Really? I would have thought they'd hire someone to do that."
Killian clicked his tongue and shook his head quickly as if the thought was impossible. "Nah, when we were kids, he used to rope Liam and I into it too. Liam's taller, so he could get the lights to line up with the top of the windows fairly easily, but now Mr. V uses a ladder and it terrifies Mrs. V. She's kind of used to it now though, far too worried about Banana falling off the edge of cliff."
"And you," Emma added.
"Hmmm?"
"You. Colliding with boards or getting upper-bodied again."
"Ah," he said and there was something in the response that didn't quite ring completely true. Emma lowered her eyebrows, turning towards him and his lips were set in a straight line. "Well, I've been kind of focused on not colliding with the boards or getting upper-bodied again this season."
"Yeah?"
Killian nodded and she could see the muscles in his throat move when he swallowed. "It's just...different this season."
He didn't say anything else, but he didn't really have to and if Emma's heart hadn't been beating far too quickly already, she probably would have noticed when it sped up again, realization hitting her on the on the top step of this absolutely enormous brownstone.
She took a step forward, tugging on the front of his jacket and the leather, finally made sense, because Christmas in New York might have been pretty, but it was also goddamn freezing. "It is," Emma agreed softly.
And it was as if they weren't about to meet his entire family or he refused to let her carry her own bag, some ridiculous attempt at chivalry that might have contributed to Emma's overexcited heart rate. It felt as if they'd just said something important.
It felt like an understanding.
"I'm glad I'm here," Emma added, appreciating the way his eyes widened. Killian nodded again, but he was smiling too, fingers wrapped tightly around her hand. "So, what do we do in front of this very fancy house? Knock?"
Killian rolled his eyes, head lolling for added effect. "No," he answered quickly, reaching forward to grab the door handle. "That would probably scare Mrs. V, actually. Come on, I'm sure there's a considerable amount of alcohol inside."
"Really selling it," she mumbled as the door swung open.
They both jumped back quickly and the bag in Killian's hands landed on the top step, his eyes going wide again. It didn't really sound like a scream, more like a screech and Emma barely saw a flash of red hair and a very specific type of smile before there was a body colliding with Killian's chest. He groaned, but Emma could see that same very specific type of smile on his face too and his arms had wrapped around the woman's waist, red hair hitting across his neck when a gust of wind swept down Grand Street.
"How long were you just going to stand outside, KJ?"
Killian laughed softly and Emma thought she noticed him tighten his grip, cheek pressed against the side of the woman's head. Emma smiled – eyes darting up towards his when he glanced her direction. "KJ?" she muttered, bending down to grab the bag he'd dropped a few moments before when, Emma assumed, one of his not-quite sisters launched herself at him.
"Don't ask," he laughed, leaning back and shaking his head. He tilted his head when he noticed Emma holding the bag, moving his fingers quickly so she'd hand it over. "Give me that."
"I can hold my own bag."
"Don't even try to argue," the still-yet-to-be-introduced sister said knowingly, eyes darting between Emma and Killian and his outstretched hand. "KJ's always been about that whole gentleman thing. I'm surprised he even let you move close enough that you got your hands on it."
Emma laughed and this was exactly what she'd pictured – family and people knowing each other in that kind of way that only family could really know each other and the woman in front of her was still beaming, practically bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet.
"Were you spying, Banana?" Killian asked. "I thought I noticed the curtains move."
"Please, you were far too busy making eyes on the front step. You know Dad and Liam were taking bets on how long it would take for you to actually open the door."
"Who won?"
"Neither one. I got too impatient waiting for you."
"Of course," Killian said, rolling his eyes. "You going to let us come inside now or should we all mentally prepare to freeze to death out here?"
"You are honestly the most dramatic person in the entire universe. No, you can't come inside until you live up to that self-imposed gentleman reputation. Introductions, KJ."
He rolled his eyes, but his hand had found its way back into Emma's again. "Swan, this is Banana. She's loud and apparently has already had several drinks and didn't actually fall off that mountain in South America, although I'd never know because she never actually tells me when she doesn't fall off mountains, just waits until she breaks her arm in Switzerland and asks me to look up translations so she can get to an urgent care."
Anna huffed, crossing her arms tightly and glared at Killian. He smiled. "That was the worst introduction in the entire history of introductions."
"That Switzerland story is true though."
"That happened one time! And I didn't fall off a mountain. I tripped over a tree root."
"Ah, of course. My mistake."
She stuck her tongue out and Emma was positive she hadn't actually taken a full breath in hours – a mix of pre-familiy nerves and current introduction nerves and she already liked the first Jones-Vankald family member she'd met.
"Anyway," Anna said pointedly, making another face at Killian before turning towards Emma. "I'm Anna. KJ is an idiot and thinks a rhyme he came up with when he was eight is still funny and I've never fallen off a mountain."
"Emma Swan." She held her hand out, the one not still wrapped up in Killian's, and Anna took it immediately. Her hand was warm too. Emma tried not to linger on that, certain there was some sort of metaphor or cliché in the middle of it that was far too depressing for the overwhelming amount of family and holiday cheer in front of her.
"Oh thank God," Anna mumbled.
"What?"
"I just figured KJ came up with another nickname. Good. Good. Emma Swan. I like it. Sounds like a princess name."
Emma must have stiffened slightly because Killian's hand tightened a bit – or maybe he was just exceptionally good at reading her face and possibly her mind – and Anna was still smiling, as if Christmas had arrived in the form of her almost-brother and his girlfriend.
"Inside, Banana," Killian said, nodding to the still-open door. "Where are the twins? We've got gifts."
"You're a giant pushover and they're asleep. It's the middle of the afternoon. You're late by the way, Mom was half a second away from texting you before El told her to relax."
"El told her that?"
"Yup," Anna said, popping the word on her lips as she took a step back. Killian glanced at Emma, eyes still a bit brighter than usual as he led her through the door and into a foyer – this house had a foyer.
"Jeez," Emma muttered, neck straining just a bit as she looked up at the ceiling. "Is that crown molding?"
Killian shrugged, but the tips of his ears were red and Emma smiled slightly when he ducked his eyes down towards his sneakers. He shrugged out of his jacket, hanging it up on a stand that was probably a hundred years old at least. And for as fancy – and old – as the outside of the brownstone looked, the inside was bright and light and inviting.
There was more ivy inside as well – twisted around a dark banister a few feet in front of them, a row of shoes of varying sizes and styles just inside the door they'd finally closed. And there was absolutely a fireplace somewhere, the smell hitting Emma's nose as soon as she walked into the house.
She took a step forward, eyes falling on the far wall, nearly every inch covered in frames and photos and memories. Emma's fingers trailed along the edges of the wooden frames – the color of them matching almost perfectly with that perfectly decorated banister – and she bit her lip when she landed on one in particular.
They looked younger – Killian and Liam and there weren't any scars on his left hand, arm wrapped around the shoulders of a woman who must have been Mrs. Vankald. Draft night. It was draft night, both of them wearing matching Rangers jerseys and smiles that were so wide they'd probably threatened to crack their respective jaws in half.
Anna was there too and another woman tucked against Liam's side with slightly red eyes and light blonde hair and everyone in the photo looked a bit overwhelmed and maybe a bit overexcited and, decidedly, happy.
"That was a very good night," a voice said behind Emma and she nearly jumped out of her skin when she spun around.
Mrs. Vankald looked older than she had in the photo – hair a bit grayer and the wrinkles around her eyes a bit more defined, but the smile was the same and she was, absolutely, smiling at Emma.
Killian moved behind her, arm around her shoulders and Anna looked like she was actually about to burst into tears. "Yeah, I'd imagine," Emma muttered, doing her best not to actually groan. A fantastic first impression.
"You know Killian was so nervous that night that we nearly didn't make it to the United Center on time. He kept almost choking himself with his tie."
Emma laughed, glancing up and he was shaking his head slightly. Anna had moved on from sentimental to hysterical, laughter filling up the entire foyer "Alright, alright," Killian said quickly, arm moving to her waist as he tugged Emma closer to his side. "Mrs. V, this is my girlfriend Emma. Swan, this is Mrs. Vankald."
Anna gasped, all three of them turning at the sound. She was jumping up and down again, hands clamped over her mouth and Killian sighed loudly. "What the hell, Banana?" he asked, earning a quick click of the tongue from Mrs. Vankald.
"Elsa," Anna shouted, practically sprinting around them towards another archway and what Emma assumed must be the living room. "El! Did you hear what he said?"
"Oh my God," Killian mumbled, the side of his head falling on top of Emma's.
Mrs. Vankald gave them both a sympathetic smile, hand falling on Emma's forearm. "Anna's very easily excitable."
"Childish, is a better word."
"Killian," she reprimanded, head twisting around when another pair of feet made their way back into the foyer. It had gotten very crowded, very quickly.
Elsa – it must have been Elsa – shook off her sister's grip, reaching up to brush her hair out of her eyes. "Anna, I heard him perfectly fine from the couch." She rolled her eyes and shot Killian that same sympathetic look her mother had just doled out.
Killian moved first that time, kissing Emma's cheek quickly – pointedly ignoring Anna's gasp – stepping towards Elsa and bending his knees slightly to wrap his arms around her waist and lift her up until her feet barely skimmed along the carpet. She laughed, smile barely noticeable on her face when she burrowed it against the crook of Killian's neck, hair falling back across her forehead and over his shoulder.
She hugged him back tightly – and Anna grumbled something about not getting a hug like that – and Emma blinked quickly, certain that openly crying in the foyer would have been exactly the kind of first impression she didn't want to make.
"El totally knew before I did, didn't she?" Anna asked softly, glancing at Emma.
"I think everyone in the greater New York City area knew," Emma said, smiling in spite of herself. "Except maybe Scarlet. I think he's still under the impression we're just friends."
"Yeah that's probably true. He can be a bit slow on the uptake."
"And, to be fair, Liam actually invited me to Christmas."
Anna scoffed in disapproval. "Always the last to know," she mumbled. "They think I can't get service on mountains or something."
Emma laughed, nodding in agreement as Elsa finally pulled herself away from Killian. She took a step forward and before Emma realized it there were arms around her and she was being hugged. "I'm so glad to meet you," Elsa said and there was no way to doubt the sincerity in her voice. "Aside from your shoulder just out of frame in Skype conversations for the ritual."
"I'm really happy to meet you too," Emma replied.
It wasn't enough, wasn't the thank you she probably should have said, the appreciation at being the one person Killian trusted enough to actually tell aboutthem and this, but Emma got the distinct impression she didn't have to. Elsa looked like she already knew, smile tugging on the ends of her mouth and there was something in the way that she kept looking at Emma that practically screamed just how big and important and meaningful the next day and a half was going to be.
She could feel Killian's eyes on her, knew he was trying not to smile too much and for someone who, just a few hours ago had been frantically over-packing on the off chance that this didn't go well, Emma found herself suddenly more comfortable than she'd been just about anywhere.
He moved behind her, hand flat against her back again and Emma let herself lean into the feel of him, warmth seeping through the jacket she still hadn't actually taken off.
"Where's Liam?" Killian asked to no one in particular and Anna made a noise that sounded a big like gagging. "Did he go downstairs already?"
"As soon as Anna opened the door," Elsa answered.
"That's totally breaking the rules."
"You were late. You took forever to come inside. Dad wanted a few practice rounds."
"Air hockey?" Emma asked and Killian nodded as if getting in a few extra practice rounds of air hockey was personally offensive. "Go," she said, turning around and her hand kept falling on the front of his chest like there was a magnet there.
"What?" Killian asked, head snapping back a bit with the force of his surprise.
"Go yell about what an unfair advantage the practice rounds are."
Elsa and Anna laughed again and even Mrs. Vankald looked amused, the smile on her face making Emma feel as if this first impression was actually going pretty ok. "Oh, man, does she have you pegged, KJ," Anna chuckled.
"You better go," Elsa added. "Liam's fairly convinced he's going to win this year. Something about how it's his time or he's due. I don't know. I stopped listening after he started repeating his strategy on the flight into JFK."
"So supportive," Killian muttered.
"Yeah well if you had to listen to that while trying to make sure two four-year-old terrors didn't inadvertently crash the plane, you would stop paying attention too."
Killian nodded seriously, turning back at Emma with questions written on his face. "You sure, Swan? Banana's probably going to stage some sort of inquisition into everything you've ever liked if I leave you up here undefended."
"Rude," Anna hissed, tugging on the end of Emma's shirts. "And that's true at all. We'll just tell you embarrassing stories about KJ. That's way more fun."
She should have been more nervous. She should have felt that coil of anxiety tightening in her gut or the urge to run or the sheer terror she'd expected at the prospect of so much family. She didn't.
She didn't feel any of that.
Instead, Emma just smiled and kissed her boyfriend quickly, gripping the front of his shirt again. "Go," she repeated. "I've got stories to listen to and you can't let Liam beat you this year, otherwise this whole relationship thing seems for naught."
All three Vankald women made a noise at that, a mixture of laughter and impressed and Emma beamed when Killian's mouth fell open. "You know I haven't lost in years, Swan."
"Better not snap that streak then."
He shook his head, but he was staring at her like he couldn't quite believe she was standing in front of him. "A few practice rounds and then I want eggnog. There's eggnog, right, Mrs. V?"
"Of course," she said, as if the possibility of not having eggnog was offensive. "Let go of your girlfriend and go knock a few pegs off Liam's ego."
"You playing favorites, Mrs. V?"
"Absolutely not. I'm just trying to make sure my bets aren't misplaced this year."
Emma's cheeks were starting to hurt from overuse and she rapped her knuckles across the slightly faded Rangers logo on Killian's t-shirt. "I'll be fine," she promised.
He kissed her again before he went downstairs.
She was going to kill Mary Margaret.
Her phone would not stop vibrating, the dull noise in her back pocket making Emma wince every time she heard it. And she kept hearing it.
She should put her phone on silent. She couldn't put her phone on silent. They were still waiting to hear how long the new guy would be with the team and if he was going to be around for awhile, Emma was going to have to ask him to take Scarlet's spot for the charity game.
She didn't really want to do that. The skid might have been snapped and they were definitely back in streak territory, winners of three of the last four, but this Lance guy still absolutely sucked on the penalty kill.
Then of course there was holiday relating to the community and that Toys for Tots campaign they'd teamed up with and half her signed merch for Casino Night had disappeared in the last week when it got shipped around the city to kids who would, inevitably, lose their collective minds over it.
They'd done photo ops for it a few days before.
God, she needed to get more merch. And a less abrasive vibration setting for her phone.
So she couldn't turn her phone off or put her phone on silent and Mary Margaret would not stop texting her. She had questions about everything – what the brownstone looked like and what the sisters looked like and if Liam was as nice as David apparently thought he'd be and what they were going to have for dinner.
And normally Emma wouldn't have minded. In fact, if things were decidedly normal, she probably would have appreciated Mary Margaret's determination to know every single thing about what was going on.
But things weren't normal and Emma was trying to impress an entire family and Elsa kept staring at her like...something. She couldn't quite put her finger on the word and that made Emma a bit nervous all over again, particularly when her phone went off for the forty-second time as she followed Elsa into the kitchen to check on the bread pudding.
Remember to compliment the bread pudding. No matter what.
"KJ said you were busy," Elsa laughed, crouching down in front of the oven to peer through the tiny window. Another window. Did that count? Emma was losing her mind.
Emma barely heard her, finally tugging her phone out of her pocket and firing off a quick message to Mary Margaret – it's fine, better than fine, I brought ten shirts and his sisters are nice and he's playing air hockey with his brother and you need to stop texting me because they think it's work.
Elsa smiled at her, glancing over her shoulder when she was apparently satisfied that the bread pudding was still on its way to being whatever was good for bread pudding. "Work stuff?" she continued, nodding towards the phone as Emma stuffed it hastily back into her pocket. "There's probably a ton of holiday things, right?"
"Yeah, yeah, there is," Emma said quickly, a bit frustrated that she'd seemingly lost the ability to have a normal conversation. "It's also a very nosy best friend."
Elsa's smile got bigger as she crossed her arms lightly over her chest and shifted her weight slightly. "Did you make sure to tell her we don't bite?"
The tension that had really only been around Emma – the entire Vankald family was as fine as advertised – dissipated immediately and she actually laughed when she felt her phone vibrate again. "She's a bit overprotective," Emma explained. "I'm sleeping on her couch."
"That's not a bad thing. The overprotective, I mean. It's always good to have someone willing to look out for you."
"Like you do for Killian?" The words were out of her mouth quickly and Emma resisted the very real urge to groan audibly in the middle of the Vankald's expansive kitchen – everything in this house was expansive – but Elsa didn't look put off by the question.
If anything, she looked impressed.
"Absolutely," she said. "He...cares about you a lot. Probably even more than he's let on and I was under some sort of impression that KJ just told me everything by default."
"Not Liam?"
Elsa's eyebrows moved and her mouth twitched and, God, Emma needed to shut up. But she had questions – and he'd never brought anyone else to Christmas and she was fairly positive she...cared about him right back. And then some.
"Well," Elsa started, making a noise that sounded as if she were trying to come up with the right word. "When they were kids, absolutely. Maybe not quite as much anymore."
"After Liam got hurt?"
"Anna was right, you do have KJ pegged."
Emma laughed softly, taking a deep breath and her phone went off again. "Sorry," she muttered, but Elsa just shook her head.
Ten shirts? And that was a run-on sentence.
I wanted to be prepared.
For what, exactly?
"You're not wrong you know," Elsa said. "Things, well, they changed after Liam got hurt and it's so much better now than it was then. It's better now than it was a few months ago, honestly. I've got some theories on that.
"Yeah?" Emma chanced, not entirely certain she wanted the answer to that question.
Elsa nodded, leaning against the counter behind her and she still hadn't uncrossed her arms. "KJ's always been, how do I put this...he's always felt things very deeply. He'd absolutely kill me if he knew I told you that. It's true though. That's why it was harder for him than it was for Liam when they came to live here, he felt like he was dishonoring his mother's memory or something far too emotionally aware for an eight-year old.
So when Liam got hurt, KJ absolutely blamed himself. He wouldn't listen to anyone else, nothing we said made him believe it wasn't completely his fault, like he'd robbed Liam of something. You know Liam was the one who suggested they play hockey?"
Emma shook her head, certain she could actually hear another piece of Killian Jones' personality settle into place. "No," she muttered softly. "I didn't."
"He doesn't like to talk about it," Elsa said. "Or anything, really. But he used to talk to Liam at least and, more often than not, Liam just knew. He could look at KJ and know in half a second every single thing he was thinking. Things changed when he got hurt. KJ kind of doubled in on himself, if that makes sense? He didn't talk. He barely even left his apartment that offseason. The only thing that helped at all was her and the game. He threw himself into playing and he was...he was incredible that season."
"Henry said he was close to the Hart," Emma added. Elsa narrowed her eyes in confusion at the name. "Oh, um, this Garden of Dreams kid. Killian's kind of his hero."
Elsa blinked quickly and twisted her hands. "Of course he is," she muttered, speaking more to herself than Emma. "So he started playing again and then he started almost believing again and…"
"He got hurt."
"Yeah. And they didn't know if he'd play again and it was just another thing. Liam, well, Liam was different. He had things other than hockey when he got hurt."
"You?" Emma asked and Elsa nodded quickly.
"Me. And he's always been different than KJ. That's what I'm getting at. KJ's always felt everything and when they did let him back on the ice, he's only ever been worried about the game and winning a Cup. That's different now."
Emma's heart was doing something impossible, seemingly trying to work its way out of her ribcage and onto the floor of that very fancy kitchen. It seemed kind of unnecessary. She didn't need a faster-than-normal heartbeat to see where this was going.
No one had ever brought her to a family Christmas party, but she wasn't an idiot.
"It's been different this season," Elsa said, seemingly unaware of Emma's biological difficulties. "He still wants to win and he wants the Cup, but I don't think he's doing it for himself anymore. At least not entirely."
"No?"
She'd whispered the word, voice cracking just a bit on the question and the meaning behind it and Emma had expected some sort of overwhelming feeling of family and maybe even some kind of don't hurt him speech from either Elsa or Anna, but she hadn't expected this. She hadn't expected everything – all at once.
"No," Elsa said simply.
There were footsteps behind her and Emma turned to find Killian practically beaming at her, Liam and, what appeared to be Mr. Vankald, on his heels. His hand landed on her back again, fingers working their way around the curve of her hip and Elsa glanced meaningfully over Killian's shoulder – probably looking at Liam.
If there was one thing the Vankalds weren't, it was subtle.
Liam moved around them, slinging an arm over Elsa's shoulders as she rolled her eyes. "Did you win?" she asked.
"I don't want to talk about it."
"The only reason he doesn't want to talk about it is because he lost," Killian said, hand tightening a fraction of an inch. "Badly."
"That's not true at all. You won a couple of practice rounds, little brother," Liam shot back. "Don't start counting victories until tomorrow." He nodded once, as if that proved that and his gaze landed on Emma, eyes going wide as if he'd only realized she was standing in the middle of the kitchen. "Hey, Emma," he said. "Nice to see you in human form."
"I'm pretty sure I was still a human when you saw me on FaceTime," Emma said. Elsa made a noise that sounded both a bit triumphant and surprised and Emma felt Killian move against her, the side of his hip bumping up against hers.
"You going to play tomorrow?"
"Air hockey?"
"They have a tournament," Elsa muttered, rolling her eyes again. "They're going to make the bracket later tonight."
"There's a bracket?" Emma asked, twisting up to stare wide-eyed at Killian. He shrugged. "How do you do that, you're an odd number?"
"Sometimes Banana's boyfriend comes," Killian said.
"Oh you probably know him," Liam added as Killian stiffed slightly against Emma's side. "Kristoff."
Emma scoffed. "Like the equipment manager of the New York Rangers? The one storing all my Casino Night merch?"
"One and the same. Is it really almost Casino Night?"
"February."
"Huh. Well, Kristoff isn't coming this year, so what do you say, Emma? You in on the air hockey tournament? We'll even go a bit easy on you. We'll make you six seed."
"That'd put me on the top side of the bracket though," Emma argued. "Didn't Killian say he won last year?"
Liam waved his hands through the air as the doorbell went off in the foyer and Mr. Vankald said something about the food. "That's debatable," Liam said, ignoring Killian's loud groan. "It is! There were some questions about that final goal and whether or not an arm went over the line at center ice. It'll all get sorted at seeding."
"You were the only one with questions," Killian mumbled, resting his cheek on the top of Emma's head as he tugged her tighter against his side.
"And who exactly is in charge of seeding?" Emma asked. She was far too competitive for her own good. And the Jones-Vankald family was something out of a storybook she was certain she'd read when she was younger.
"I am," Mrs. Vankald answered, walking into the kitchen with a smile on her face. "And don't let Liam fool you, sweetheart. He absolutely lost fair and square last year."
Liam made a noise that sounded a bit like disappointment, but Killian was hysterical, his whole body shaking against Emma's and he still hadn't moved his hand. "Collusion," Liam shouted. "This is collusion! You're all cheating."
Elsa sighed dramatically, but she was smiling too, hand falling on the front of Liam's shirt. "Anyway," Mrs. Vankald continued. "There's food in case any of you horsemen were actually interested in eating."
Liam moved quickly, tugging Elsa with him and she threw Emma a knowing glance before following him back towards the front of the house.
"You don't have to play if you don't want to, love," Killian said quietly, words muffled a bit by her hair. And she nearly felt her knees buckle when she realized that was the first time he'd called her that since they'd walked into the brownstone.
Maybe she was an idiot.
And she should probably start telling him everything she was thinking before she accidentally started shouting it in the middle of the living room in front of his entire family.
"No, it sounds like fun," Emma answered, twisting around so she was in front of him, team-branded t-shirt gripped tightly in her hands. "Plus, I could play you in the semis."
"That sounds like a challenge, Swan."
"Maybe it is," she muttered, brushing her lips across his before she moved out of the kitchen, appreciating the slightly stunned look on his face.
They ate Chinese food.
It was, as Mrs. Vankald explained to her tradition, but Emma saw the tips of Killian's ears go red as soon as the words were out of her mouth and she was positive there was a story there.
They ate at an absolutely enormous dining room table with candles that smelled like an entire forest had been crammed into the house and there was a themed table runner and silverware that probably cost as much as the yearly rent on that apartment Emma rented in Los Angeles. It was, easily, the most adorable thing Emma had ever seen – and she'd spent a good chunk of her adult life living with Mary Margaret.
There was almost too much food – lo mein and sesame chicken and egg rolls and Anna kept cracking open fortune cookies until she got a prediction that she actually deemed acceptable – and no one seemed to stop smiling.
The twins had been woken up for dinner, stumbling down the stairs with mussed hair and matching jerseys that made Emma's heart do that ridiculous fast-beating thing again, the 'C' on each one of their shoulders practically jumping out and hitting her across the face.
Killian's hand stayed on her knee, just out of sight of any foster parents or quasi sisters or twins who, it seemed, also regarded him as the best player in the entire league.
"So, Emma," Mr. Vankald said, nearly making her choke on the egg roll she was eating. Killian's hand tightened and Emma tried not to actually die in the middle of Christmas Eve dinner.
She hummed in response and God her napkin had fallen on the floor. "Yeah," she answered, doing her best not to glare when Liam chuckled.
"Killian mentioned you work for the team as well."
Ah, there it was. The interview. She'd been anticipating that, but out of all the things Emma was vaguely terrified about when it came to the next few hours in the Vankald brownstone, being forced to talk about her job wasn't one of them.
She could talk about work.
She could totally impress all of them.
Not that she was trying to do that. Of course not. That would have been absurd.
"That's true," Emma said. "I'm the director of community relations."
"And fan experiences and events," Killian added, smirking in her direction. She rolled her eyes.
"That too."
"So is Casino Night your domain then?" Mr. Vankald pressed.
Emma nodded. "It is, although that's actually been one of the easier things I've had to deal with. Everything's pretty much the same from year to year and Gotham Hall knows what we're doing, the only thing that ever changes is the theme."
"What's your theme this year?"
"Speakeasy," Emma answered, trying to gauge Killian's reaction without actually turning her head to stare at him. "You know like 1920s, flappers and all that. Our alcohol will be legal though."
Mr. Vankald laughed and Emma only just noticed he was wearing team-branded as well – the same polo shirts they sold in Chase Square that were promoted aswhat the coaching staff wears, which was a complete lie since Arthur only ever wore a suit on the bench. He didn't even wear polos to practice.
And, just like that, something else clicked about the seemingly never-ending history of Killian Jones.
"In my limited experience with Casino Night, it's usually good to have an excessive amount of legal alcohol on hand," Mr. Vankald said.
"Have you not been to Casino Night before?" Emma asked, curiosity getting the better of her yet again.
"We went Killian and William's rookie year."
"You know I could totally get you tickets," she said. Mr. Vankald's eyes went wide and she was certain she heard Mrs. Vankald whisper really a few seats away. Emma nodded. "Yeah, yeah, of course. It's going to be really awesome. There's going to be a ton of tables and Killian and all the guys are going to deal and we're doing this huge auction for the charity game."
"Charity game?"
"Oh, yeah, that's kind of my big thing this season. We raise a ton of money for Garden of Dreams with Casino Night, but we're also doing a charity game a couple weeks later. It's basically taken over my life. Killian's going to coach."
"What?" Anna gasped, knocking her fork to the floor and even Liam looked surprised. Emma turned her head at that – Killian's ears were still tinged pink and there was a flush in his cheeks that was just unfair at a dining room table with his entire family sitting there and he wouldn't meet her eyes.
Emma wasn't sure what exactly she'd stumbled into, but Elsa was staring at her intently as if she were trying to will the idea of told you so across several feet of Chinese food. "Yeah," she continued, smile just a bit shakier than it had been a few moments before. "Although, now we've got to find another player since Arthur won't let Scarlet play so soon after he, maybe, gets medically cleared."
"Who?" Liam asked.
"That new guy? Lance."
"He's terrible on PK."
"Well it's a charity game, I doubt they'll be doing a lot of penalty killing."
Liam glanced at Elsa, the movement so quick Emma wasn't certain it had actually happened until she saw Elsa nod. "I could do it," Liam said.
"You could do what?"
"Fill your roster spot."
It had been a strange day – a kind of Christmas Eve that, until just a few hours ago, Emma was convinced didn't actually exist in the real world or outside of Hallmark Channel movies – but nothing in that very strange, very emotional day would have possibly prepared her for Liam Jones to come out of retirement in order to play in her charity hockey game.
Killian's hand was like a vice-grip on her knee.
"You'd...you'd do that?" Emma asked. She rolled her shoulders slightly, shifting in the seat until she'd uncrossed her legs and her hand found Killian's underneath the table. He squeezed her fingers tightly and she was half convinced he had actually turned to stone next to her.
Liam shrugged. "Why not?"
"Well, you're retired."
"I still have legs. And it's a charity game, right?" Emma nodded. "So there won't be that much hitting anyway. Especially if Scarlet's on the bench."
"That's true," Emma said warily, twisting her wrist around to trace that one scar across the back of Killian's hand.
"Why?" Killian asked sharply. Mrs. Vankald looked like she was already watching the air hockey match, eyes darting back and forth across the table.
"Why what?" Liam countered.
"Why would you do that? You don't even live here anymore. You'd all have to come back to New York."
Elsa clicked her tongue and Killian's head moved so quickly it must have actually hurt. He didn't actually ask a question, just lifted his eyebrows and waited for Elsa to explain. She sighed before she did.
"Not all of us," she said softly, but her gaze didn't leave Killian's and she sat up a bit straighter. "At least not probably. When exactly is this game, Emma?"
"March 5th."
"Oh, yeah, then probably not. That's kind of cutting it close, right? I don't really know what the rules are." She glanced at Liam, who just shrugged again, but he looked like he was bordering close to overjoyed.
"Close to what?" Killian asked, but Emma's mouth fell open. Elsa made a face, smiling at Killian as she shook her head.
"You remember when I called?" she asked. "After the opener and I messed up your gameday schedule and Locksley was pissed?" Killian nodded, head tilted in confusion. Emma kept her fingers in his. "There was a reason for that."
"You're stalling El."
"God, KJ," Anna sighed, dropping both her elbows on the table loudly. "You are so dense sometimes."
Killian moved again, eyes wide and mouth open slightly and Emma could hear him when he exhaled. "Wait, wait, wait," he said quickly.
"There you go," Emma muttered and Elsa let out a shaky laugh. She stood up abruptly, nearly knocking over the chair in the process and Liam seemed to move out of instinct, hand flying up towards her.
Emma could almost see it then, a slight curve in her abdomen when Elsa stood up to her full height. She pointed towards herself, smile taking up nearly three quarters of her face as Mrs. Vankald sniffed. Killian hadn't moved an inch – Emma wasn't convinced he was breathing, but she almost winced when his hand tightened again.
No one said anything for what felt like an eternity, everyone's eyes on Killian, waiting for some kind of reaction, and the only sound in the entire dining room came from a pair of particularly rambunctious twins who had started actually throwing General Tso's chicken at each other.
Elsa sighed softly, shoulders slumping just a bit as she moved around the table to try and keep food on plates and off her kid's faces. Anna looked like she was about to cry.
He moved quickly – and Emma was certain it had something to do with skating and athleticism, but she barely had a second to consider any of it before her hand was empty again and Killian was standing up, taking slow, deliberate steps around the table.
The twins didn't care about the food as much when Killian stopped next to them, hands on his pants and the bottom of his shirt, but he didn't look away from Elsa. She bit her lip tightly and Emma chanced a glance at Liam who looked a bit torn as to what he was supposed to do.
"For real, El?" Killian asked, voice coming out in a whisper. Anna was crying now.
Elsa nodded. "Why would I lie about that, KJ?"
"That's a good point," he muttered, running his hand through his hair quickly. Emma wasn't sure which one of them moved first or whose arms moved faster, but they were a blur of limbs and hugs and Elsa's feet were off the ground again.
Elsa made a noise, arms visibly tightening around Killian's neck and Emma bit her lip tightly. She couldn't cry.
"How long?" Killian asked when he finally put Elsa back down. Liam exhaled loudly – he'd definitely been holding his breath.
"Be more specific, KJ," Elsa answered at the same time Liam muttered, "Do the math, little brother."
"Younger brother," he mumbled, shooting Liam a glare. "C'mon, El. How long?"
"A little over three months."
Killian slumped forward slightly, but he was smiling and Emma tried to rub the back of her knuckles over her cheeks before anyone could see what a ridiculous sap she was. Anna absolutely saw.
"And you didn't feel like telling me before then?" Killian asked. "You just wanted to call, what, after a particularly bad run-in with morning sickness?"
"He figured it out," Anna yelled, slumping down slightly when Mr. Vankald leveled her with a look. "Well, he did. Took him forever."
"To be fair, we didn't really tell anyone," Elsa mumbled. "Just mom and dad. Anna only figured it out when I mentioned I'd been sick."
"Because not all of us are as dense as KJ."
"Shut up Banana," Killian said. His eyes hadn't moved away from Elsa's. "When?"
"When what?" Elsa asked.
"Don't make me do the math, El."
She laughed and the entire table seemed to take a deep breath. "June. Or around June."
"Cup baby," Liam added and Killian finally looked away from Elsa to gape at his brother. The force of Liam's smile probably could have powered a small country. "I mean, that's the plan this season isn't it?"
Killian nodded slowly and if anyone noticed him move back towards Emma, they did their best to ignore it. She appreciated that. "Yeah," he said, hand landing on her shoulder. "It is."