prompt: first Christmas morning (so, curse!Storybrooke)
prompted by: arianakristine

Emma hadn't meant to spend all night at Graham's place. They were going to have a romantic holiday dinner, and then she was going to head back to the loft. But at some point she'd had a little too much wine to care, and it was cold outside, and snowing heavily, and so she'd fallen asleep on Graham's couch, her head on his chest and his arms around her, a warm fleece blanket draped over them.

So when she wakes up, and he's not there, her first thought is disappointment. Then she smells the bacon cooking, hears the radio playing Christmas tunes, and, wrapping the blanket around her, heads over to the kitchen area of his apartment.

Graham is humming along to Frosty as he scrambles some eggs and Emma smiles.

"I didn't know you could cook," she says; last night's dinner, while romantic, was ordered out from Granny's ahead of time and reheated.

"Mmmm, still learning," he says, pulling her in so that she's between him and the stove, so that he can keep cooking the eggs and still hold her, "I've been able to roast things over a campfire for years, but… This is a little new."

"Mary Margaret must be worried sick, you know how she mothers me," Emma frowns. He chuckles lightly; Emma can feel the vibrations from it in his chest they're so close together and it makes her warm and fuzzy inside.

"I left her a voicemail already, told her the snow was too heavy for you to leave. I'm sure she'll understand," he whispers in her ear, then presses his cheek against hers. His scruffy beard tickles a bit, but she loves how it feels. She loves everything about being in his arms, being close to him.

He finishes cooking and dishes up the meals, handing Emma a plate and leading her to the table. There's a small box with a ribbon around it at the place she usually sits.

"Merry Christmas, Emma," he nods to the box, and she carefully removes the ribbon. It looks like a necklace box, and she raises an eyebrow at Graham. That seems to suggest a bit expensive of a present for a girlfriend of a little less than two months. She opens the box nonetheless.

The ruby-covered heart is flashier than anything she would go for herself, but it still feels understated enough that she appreciates it. The golden chain is incredibly fine, unbelievably fine, even.

"Graham- This is too much," she says, even though she aches to wear it.

"No, Emma," he shakes his head, "Nothing is too much for you. Besides, Gold gave me a discount."

"What'd you sign over for it, your firstborn?" she jokes. He laughs, but it almost seems forced.

"Nothing that precious, I promise," he says, "It was an actual, genuine discount. He said it was because my mother pawned it, but she never set foot in his shop, so I don't know what he was thinking."

She lifts it gently from the box, looking it over. She wants to refuse for propriety's sake, but she also wants to accept it.

"Could you…" she gestures to the necklace. She's not sure why, but she thinks she'll feel better about accepting it if he puts it on her.

"Of course," he agrees, taking it from her hands and fastening it around her neck, pushing her curls out of the way.