A/N: This is my gift to Bianca (that-first-glance-feeling on tumblr) for the 2014 CS Secret Santa. I hope you like it. Reviews would make me very happy! :)

Emma stared at the clock, as if her icy glare would make the hands move faster. 8:40 PM. 50 minutes to go. Pulling her cardigan tighter around her, she refreshed Facebook and made a New Year's Resolution to convince Granny to change her utterly ridiculous opening times. Honestly, the last customer had left an hour before. What was even the point of her being there (and freezing half to death)?

Granny's Deli was a small business, with an equally small number of customers, a couple of old ladies who lived nearby, a few businessmen in expensive looking suits, who she figured shopped there because it saved them some time, and the occasional one-time buyers, who really needed a bottle of water / some bread / batteries and whatever. But none of them ever came in after 8. So the so-called "more hours=more customers" plan was titled bullshit in Emma's mind.

At 9:20, Emma closed the magazine she'd been leafing through (she'd never thought she would ever read an article about the Kardashians, but desperate times called for desperate measures) and locked the till. She was just about to grab her scarf when she was startled by the sound of the door opening. Looking up, she saw a man standing in the doorway, somewhat uncertain.

"We're closed."

"It's 9:24."

"But I've already closed the till." Seeing the look on his face, she added "I'm sorry."

"Look, lass, I really need 3 bags of flour. Just let me buy some and I'll make myself scarce in seconds. Please." he pleaded and Emma couldn't find it in herself to say no. There was something about him that made her want to help him. Sincerity maybe?

"Fine. I'm counting."

121 seconds later, he carefully placed said items on the counter.

"12 dollars."

He handed the money over, packed up, and then to her complete surprise, actually winked at her.

"Thank you, milady," he said with a tiny smile gracing his lips and left the store before Emma could form a coherent thought.

A week later, he turned up again, this time at 9:15. Emma tried not to stare at him, as he moved around the aisles. He stood in one place for 7 minutes, eyes fixated on a packet of baking soda, but he picked up cartons of milk without even glancing at the label. When he got to the counter, he acted nothing like the week before, he'd just wished her a nice evening and was gone before she could say "You too."

Emma couldn't get him out of her mind. For God's sake, he was just a customer. She'd seen him twice. But there was something about him. He was intriguing and mysterious and the way he'd looked at her – it excited and unsettled Emma at the same time. And she didn't even know his name.

A freaking mind-reader, that's what he was. The moment when the clock ticked past 9 and a thought crept into Emma's mind about his whereabouts, he would waltz in, buy something and waltz out. It went like that for 2 weeks, every Tuesday and Friday. One day, she couldn't hold it in any longer.

"Why do you always come in so late?" she'd all but shouted at him.

He pondered the question for a few seconds, his lips tilting up into a grin.

"There are 2 possible answers love. One is that I'm busy during the day," he leaned closer, so that his lips were almost at her ear and Emma's breath caught. "The other's that I enjoy spending these few minutes...alone with you." And as always, he left without another word.

Emma adjusted the woolen hat atop her head to prevent it from falling. Since Christmas was only a few weeks away, Granny had come up with the fantastic idea of "winter uniforms" which meant red everything, complete with a Santa hat and a little bell-shaped pin that jingled every time she moved. (Ruby had loved it, of course. Half of her closet was red anyway, so it wasn't that big of a change.)

"Emma!" a friendly voice called her name from the back of the store.

"Yeah?"

"Wanna come bowling with me and David after work?"

Emma smiled to herself. Mary Margaret was such a sweetheart.

"That's really nice of you, but I think that I'm probably going to collapse on my couch tonight."

"Okay, well, if you change your mind, you know where to find us."

Emma did know. The small bowling alley just a few streets down held a special place in all their hearts. Emma and Mary Margaret used to go there every Thursday, and that's where Mary Margaret had met David, her very own Prince Charming. (The name was Emma's idea, actually. After Mary Margaret had gushed about her new dream guy for hours, Emma nicked her phone, changed his name to Prince Charming and it stuck.)

Mary Margaret was still talking about...something, when the sound of the door slamming snapped Emma out of her thoughts. She looked up and froze for a second. It was the guy. The going-shopping-at-inhuman-hours guy. While nodding along to Mary Margaret's story about one of her baby cousins, she watched him take a basket (he never did that, just grabbed stuff off the shelves) and pack it full.

Mary Margaret went back to unpack the groceries that had just arrived and Emma sighed. She loved and appreciated her friendship but sometimes, all her talk about David and their upcoming wedding and their happy families just got too much. It made her think of...no, Emma, don't go there. She mentally slapped herself and refocused her attention on the customers. Or rather on one customer.

He sauntered over to the counter with a very heavy-looking basket (but of course, he carried it around like it was filled with feathers).

"Hello, love."

"Hi. Cash or card?"

"Card." He tugged on his scarf (that matched his too blue eyes) and fumbled around for a while, cursing under his breath (these bloody pockets). Their fingertips brushed when he he handed over his credit card and Emma felt a shiver run down her spine.

Killian Jones. She'd read the name off the card in a heartbeat. Killian. She would have never guessed (she definitely didn't have an imaginary list of possible names, no, not at all), but now that she knew, it seemed so fitting.

Emma pulled her coat tighter around herself. Damn, it's getting cold, she thought. She quickened her steps, hoping to get to her Bug as fast as possible. But fate had another idea. Nearing the end of the street, where she'd parked her car, she saw that the road was littered with plastic and metal and closed off. A police officer informed her that there had been an accident and she would have to go and take the long way around.

Grumbling internally, she thanked the officer and turned around. She passed the store and was wondering how long it had been since she last walked down this road, when she saw a familiar figure. Killian (god, she was still getting used to the fact that he had a name) was scrubbing a table near the window. Emma looked up and squinted to read the place's name. Pie-Rate Bakery.

As if he had sensed her presence, Killian looked up and waved at Emma, motioning at her to come in. Emma considered it. It was cold, she was hungry, she had nowhere to be at, except for her couch, it seemed like a good idea. She pushed the door open and almost fainted. The bakery had looked tiny and scrubby from the outside but that couldn't be farther from the truth. Blues and white dominated the interior, but the orange lights made it feel homey and welcoming. Countless pictures and paintings of the sea and ships hung from the walls, along with anchors and ropes and other maritime paraphernalia. And behind the counter stood Killian, with a proud smile on his face, watching her take it all in.

Emma, still in a daze, walked over to the display. It was carefully organized, with a small card in front of each treat. Her mouth watered just at the sight of them. And the names! Lemon pie was nicknamed Screw Scurvy, Port&Starboard were small, steering wheel-shaped cookies, and in one corner, there was one, quite lifelike crocodile, labeled Children's favorite: Tick tock, Choco Croc.

While Emma surveyed the selection, Killian tried to regulate his breathing. He didn't know why he'd gotten so nervous all of sudden. He told himself that he was just hoping she'd like whatever she chose to try, a normal reaction of every first-time shopkeeper.

Emma looked up, having made her decision.

"Uhm, hi. Killian. I'd like...a slice of lemon pie and a hot cocoa."

He really hoped she couldn't see his hand shaking as he grabbed what she'd asked for.

She didn't. She was so engrossed in the way he moved around, somehow graceful, making her cocoa and busy with her thoughts of awkwardness (she hated that her voice came out a lot more high pitched than usual when she'd said his name), that she wouldn't have noticed an elephant in the room.

She became a regular. Eventually she tried out everything on offer, but her drink choice always stayed the same. He'd joke about it from time to time, ("You're going to make me run out of cinnamon, lass."), and she'd would retort "That's the best way to drink it." But her drink always came with a healthy dose of cinnamon, without her having to even mention it.

The awkwardness...well, it was still there but she found that she was getting more comfortable talking to him while he made her cocoa. They'd discuss the weather or exchange stories about crazy customers ("There was this woman, who ranted about the importance of crocodiles in the wild for 10 minutes and berated me for selling chocolate ones. Can you believe it?"). She now understood why he had to buy ingredients at 9 PM – it was a one-man business and he did everything himself, from making the dough to selling. Emma admired him for his independence and dedication.

Killian gave everything a once-over (the ovens were turned off, the till locked, the curtains drawn), before he stepped out into the cold and locked the door. The weather would have had him bristling at any other time, but he was happy. The bakery was doing great, with new customers almost every day and he loved his job. And Emma. He had to admit, that her visits (or his to the deli) were the highlight of his days. He loved seeing her smile and was endlessly amused by her antics (the way she rolled her eyes at his innuendos made him want to include them in every sentence he said). She hated the snowflakes that got stuck in her hair, but he thought she looked beautiful every single day.

And when she didn't come for 3 days, he had to accept that the ache in his chest was her doing. He loved Emma Swan.

Emma gave the tree one last tug and closed the Bug's door when it was safely inside. Phew. Dragging a small-but-heavy Christmas tree for half a mile and then managing to fit it into her car was exhausting. Sometimes she wasn't even sure why she bothered with buying a tree. Or Christmas in general. It's not like she had anyone to celebrate it with. Mary Margaret had, of course, invited her to dinner on the 25th and Granny had thrown them a Christmas party on the 19th, but that didn't change the fact that on Christmas Eve, she would be sitting in her flat, all alone, watching Home Alone and eating takeout.

Emma flung the last piece of tinsel around the tree and stepped back to admire her handiwork. The tree looked lovely, but something still felt a little off. More ornaments? Less ornaments? Another color of tinsel maybe?

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.

Maybe it's the postman with some last minute gift from someone, Emma thought as she opened the door. And then her jaw dropped.

It was Killian, adorably red-cheeked from the cold, holding a tray.

"Swan," he said, with a face-splitting grin "May I come in?"

"Um, sure." Emma stepped aside. "Don't take this the wrong way, but what are you doing here?"

"Ruby told me that you were spending this Christmas alone." He scratched behind his ear. "And I didn't want you to."

She was going to kill Ruby. Or hug her. Or both.

"That's really nice of you, but I'm sure your family misses you, you should be celebrating with them."

"That's where you're wrong, lass. I don't have any family here. And I have made gingerbread and I have no one to eat it with. So, cookies, Swan?"

And this time Emma let her heart guide her. She accepted the tray and offered him some of her signature punch in return. They ate until they could barely move and settled on the couch for a movie marathon. He assured her that her tree looked perfect and she told him that she loved his bakery more than Starbucks. (And he understood that that was a huge compliment.)

He spotted a pack of sparklers on one of the shelves and they pretended to be wizards, shouting made-up enchantments at each other. And then, when the last sparkler's flame died away, they found themselves just standing there, staring at each other.

She wasn't sure how it happened.

But the moment his lips touched hers, she felt like a sparkler herself. He ignited something in her heart and the warmth spread throughout her body, prompting her to press closer to him, to anchor her hand in his hair and never let go.

"Are we...okay? Are we..." his voice came out breathy, after they had separated.

" We are." Emma answered his unspoken question. "Kiss me again."

"As you wish."

(And when Liam called him via Skype 2 hours later to wish him a Merry Christmas and he proudly introduced Emma as his girlfriend, Emma was convinced that this was her best Christmas ever. Killian agreed.)