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Killian Jones was a neat man.
His days from the Navy—and Liam’s strict rules from his childhood—instilled that habit in him. And while he was well aware that not everyone would feel the same as he did, he was not so tested until he started living with Emma Swan.
He’d met Emma at a party. Her boyfriend at the time had gotten very aggressive after copious amounts of eggnog and tried to swing and Killian, who’d promptly flipped Walsh and broke Ruby’s coffee table. Ruby was easily persuaded to forgive once Killian had bought her a new coffee table.
At first, he was sure that Emma hated him for what had happened until a few weeks later, when she’d demanded, eyes aglow with fire and determination, that she teach him how to flip people over. She’d cited it was necessary for her job, and he hadn’t quite known what that meant until he saw her flip a skip onto his back when he tried to punch her.
Their self-defense lessons after his shift then turned into quick lunches, which turned into movies nights with just them in addition to their friend group’s movie nights.
It was during a group movie night that it was revealed that despite breaking up with Walsh at the Christmas party, he was still living in the apartment because Emma couldn’t afford the rent by herself. While Emma was surprisingly prudent in her savings given her general cavalier to almost everything else in her life including what she ate and the state of her room, she was only paid as long as she could work. Any long-term injury would send her careening backwards in her savings, and letting Walsh live in the apartment was a way to offset the financial risk.
Killian, a life-long believer in good form, simply wouldn’t stand for it. Since the apartment was in Emma’s name only, Walsh had no claim to it. And surprisingly to all (or unsurprisingly) that as soon as Regina mentioned her sister was single, Walsh had no problem moving out of Emma’s apartment, allowing Killian to move in.
So here he was, 9 months later, trudging up to the apartment that he and Emma shared.
His cheeks flushed even though no one was around.
The first time he’d mentioned that he was moving in with Emma, his brother had squawked and protested that he should’ve known Killian was seeing someone. And every time Killian spoke to Liam, Liam always asked if he and Emma started dating yet. Which…they were not a couple, they were just friends.
Though Killian would’ve absolutely dated Emma in a heartbeat, if given the opportunity. She was beautiful, strong, and incredibly intelligent in a way that surprised people who were just meeting her. He absolutely adored her and cherished every moment he spent with her.
But with the strength of their bond also came with the vulnerabilities Emma allowed him to see. She had been betrayed, hurt, and let very few people know what was truly going on in her mind. He was honored that after such a short time, she had let him into the circle that only included a handful of people.
So he didn’t push her for anything romantic, for fear that if his intentions were misperceived that she would draw her walls up again. Not that he blamed her. She’d been disappointed by so many people in her life, and it would kill him if he ever joined those numbers.
Besides, what sort of a man would force his intentions by someone with whom he cohabitated a space with?
Well, Walsh would, he could hear Emma’s derisive remark in her head.
Still, he began marching up the steps in their apartment complex, hoping that Emma could hear. Tonight was the night that they were exchanging gifts before he went off to his brother’s house and she went off to her brother’s house. It was a tradition that Emma valued most highly, having missed her fair share of Christmases in her youth. Emma had been passed around the foster system almost her whole life until she’d met Ruth Nolan at age 16. Well, correction: she’d met Ruth’s son David (her now brother), who had brought her home to his mother on her first day of school, and Ruth had done everything humanly possible to keep Emma with them.
Killian, having been taken in by his older brother when his brother had emancipated from their father, could sympathize with wanting spend time with family. Though he was sure that, knowing Emma, she’d been caught up in something and waited until the last possible moment to wrap his gift despite her imminent departure.
He knew this because he’d walked in on her wrapping his gift on his birthday. She’d scowled when he laughed, and her cheeks had turned red with embarrassment. But it had been the perfect gift and she still had surprised him with a wonderful chocolate cake.
His heart warmed affectionately upon how she’d gone out of her way to get it from his favorite bakery, one that marked the halfway point between where he lived and his brother’s. He recalled the shy smile that tugged at the edge of her lips when she told him that she hoped he liked his cake.
It was the memory of his birthday that had inspired him to go out of his way to get a particularly excellent birthday for her in October, and now an excellent Christmas present. For her birthday, he’d gotten her a pair of high heeled boots that the saleswoman assured him were comfortable, and now were Emma’s go-to piece of footwear for chasing skips.
For Christmas, he’d gotten her baby blanket repaired. She’d been left at a hospital with nothing but a knitted blanket with her name on it. It was all she had given toward any clue toward her parents. But a drunk Will had accidentally unraveled it at Halloween, and although she’d tried to hide it from their friends, Emma was absolutely distraught about the destruction of her blanket.
He was picturing the look on her face, hoping her eyes would light up with joy and he could watch her fingers reverently trace the knitwork when he arrived at the front door and was overcome with the notion that something was very wrong.
The door was slightly ajar, which was unusual for their apartment. Immediately shifting into high alert, he opened the door gently.
The apartment was beyond a disaster.
Things were thrown about everywhere, the window was thrust right open and one of the flowerpots was shattered on the ground.
Killian began to catalog all of the damage, wondering whether or not there had been a robbery, when he heard the tiniest of sniffles.
His blood ran cold, his shoulders became stiff and tight and his heart began to pick up in his chest. “Emma?” he called, trying to keep his worry at bay. As he moved through the apartment, there was a path of destruction no matter where he went. His mind kept picturing horrible scenario after horrible scenario, particularly as Emma’s sobs became louder and louder as he approached her bedroom.
“Emma?” he tried again, not hearing a response.
Unable to stand it any longer, he thrust the door open. Her room had seemingly taken the worst hit; even though it was normally in a state of disarray, the destruction in her room could only be described as catastrophic.
And there was Emma, in the middle of it, sobbing like the world was ending.
He immediately scooped her up and placed her on the bed, frantically assessing her for injury. His Emma was a tough lass, and so for her to be crying like this meant the absolute worst of the worst.
When she seemed to realize it was him, she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face against him. He wrapped himself around her protectively, stroking the back of her hair. “You’re all right, love,” he whispered softly. “You’re safe. I’m here…it’s all right, Emma.”
“’s not!” Emma choked out, curling up against him, her entire body heaving and shaking with the force of her cries. “It’s not all right!”
“What happened?” he asked, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. Though he was not entirely unsure that she was unharmed, there still was the state of the apartment to contend with. He was desperate to clean it, but if there needed to be a police investigation, he couldn’t touch the damn thing.
Her shaking damn near broke his heart and he held her closer, shushing her gently. “It’s okay, love, it’s okay,” he promised her again.
“It’s not!” she hiccupped. “I lost it! I can’t find it!”
His heart picked up again, wondering if she’d gone looking for her baby blanket for comfort and was unable to find it. Suddenly, he felt like the world’s biggest asshole, taking her blanket without permission. It was something she treasured and was comforted by and he had no right to take it without her permission.
He looked down at her, preparing to make a million and one apologies to her and to assure her that her baby blanket was safe and she could have it right then and there, when she added miserably, “I lost your Christmas present!”
“What?” he asked, dumbfounded. He nearly laughed at the absurdity of it all but seeing how devastated Emma was kept his tongue in check. He knew that she wouldn’t have appreciated his chuckling.
She pulled away her head hung low as she continued to cry. “You must hate me!” she declared, still not looking at him. “I know it’s Christmas and I’m so sorry…I should’ve taken better care of it…”
It was only then that he realized that she’d mistaken his shock for anger, and he gently reached for her hand. “Emma, love,” he tried to soothe softly, running his thumb across her knuckles. “It’s okay. I’m not angry…”
“You will be when you find out what it is,” she muttered, her head still hung low.
“Emma, trust me, whatever my gift was supposed to be, it cannot be worse than the scenario I’d concocted in my head when I discovered the door ajar and the apartment destroyed,” he replied, reaching for her again. Maybe there was a part of him that still needed to reassure himself that she was safe.
She finally looked up at him, her head cocked to the side curiously.
“I…when I saw everything in disarray and heard your cries, I…I thought we’d been robbed and you’d been hurt,” he admitted shyly, taking his gaze away from hers now.
Her emerald eyes were wide with shock and her mouth hung open a little bit, still needing to reconcile every so soften that people cared about her. Emma’s jaw slid open as she stared at him, her tears stopping almost immediately at the revelation. “You were worried about me?” she squeaked.
“Aye, of course I was,” Killian breathed, holding her close to him. “Everything had gone to pieces and the apartment was not how I left it this morning.”
Emma sighed, scrubbing at her eyes. “I’m sorry. I wanted to clean it up before you got home but then I couldn’t find your present and—" Her breathing picked up again and tears began pooling in her eyes.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Killian murmured, cupping her cheek in his hand. His thumb gently dragged across her cheek.
“And now I’m gonna leave you with all of this cuz I’m supposed to go to David’s!” she babbled. Her body seemed to tremble viciously in his hold. It was clear she’d been on edge and frantic for a while now, only just coming down. Her hand trembled visibly in his hand, and he’d never seen Emma so emotional or terrified. She’d come home battered and bruised, he’d stayed with her overnight in the hospital, but he’d never seen her like this.
His heart seemed to stop. He knew that she held great stock in her trusty bug, but he was unable and unwilling to place her life at risk on it. She was in no position to drive.
“Love, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go to be driving in the condition you’re in,” Killian said softly. “You know David won’t hold it against you if you delay your trip another day. You’re in no state to be driving right now. It’s dark, and you need to be at your best when you get on the road.”
Emma’s lips came together in a thin tight line. “Trust me,” she said sadly. “You’re not gonna want to spend the rest of the night with me and I should go.”
Closing her eyes, she hung her head. “Liam called a few weeks ago, and said he found some of your mother’s hand sewn ornaments in the attic...he wanted to know if...if you wanted them for your birthday. I told him no, that they’d make a lovely Christmas present.” Her voice got smaller and smaller as she spoke, and a pit of dread formed in Killian’s stomach.
“I got the box and I don’t know where I put it and I’ve looked everywhere...so I’ll just...I’ll clean up and then I’ll go. You can return my Christmas present if you want to,” she finished quietly, not even daring to look at him. “And...and if you want to move out or if you want me to move out, I understand. I’ll need a few days to find a place, but...but I promise I can clear out.”
Killian took in a shaky breath. The loss hit him harder than he was willing to admit. His mother died when he was quite young, but he remembered her sitting in her rocking chair and sewing any ornament Killian or Liam asked of her. “Did...did Liam send me all of them?” he asked, unable to help the question. There was so much about Emma’s speech that he needed to address and respond to, but he couldn’t cling to the desperate hope that some of the ornaments survived.
“No,” Emma rasped, and she watched him with some trepidation. “I had to beg him to take some of them.”
Killian sighed with some relief, knowing that all wasn’t lost forever. Closing his eyes, he took a few deep breaths. She’d made the decision to save some for Liam. She’d tried to do this nice thing for him. She was always trying to do nice things for him and she deserved the benefit of the doubt.
And if he was honest, she wasn’t particularly the best searcher. Most things she looked at with a half-hearted glance before declaring she couldn’t find them.
So he wasn’t going to let himself believe that his present was gone, until he’d helped her search every last inch of the apartment.
“Let’s clean everything up,” Killian said kindly. “And we won’t discuss anyone moving out until we know for sure it’s lost to the ages and not in a hidden, obscure spot because you were sure you’d remember it later.” He was going to tease her about how many times she’d misplaced her keys, but she’d all but tackled him to the ground before he could take another breath.
He squeezed her tightly as she tucked herself into him. “Are you sure?” she asked, her voice shaking.
“Aye, love,” he promised. “I won’t send you away.” Her whole body seemed to melt at the reassurance. He knew the need for her to hear those words stemmed from her days as a foster child, and he was more than happy to give them.
Seeing how she had clearly and thoroughly mentally lashed herself made it very hard to be angry with her. And if it had turned out that they were gone, he would mourn them like he mourned his mother. He hadn’t known her ornaments had survived after his father seemingly removed every sign of his mother from the house.
And to only know that they existed only when they seemed gone was upsetting, he wouldn’t lie.
But it certainly wasn’t a friendship ending event in his eyes. He would need some space to mourn, but he wouldn’t banish her from her home.
And she needed some tender care at the moment too. It was more than clear that she had done everything in her power to try and relocate them.
He scooped her up in his arms and gently carried her to the couch, which had mercifully been spared. “What—?” she started, pushing herself back up.
His heart seemingly broke again, looking back at her. The circles under her eyes seemed so dark. Her eyes were red and red-rimmed. What kind of awful, imaginary scenarios had she conjured for herself while he’d been thinking the worst?
They were so similar, both scarred by their pasts in different ways.
“I wasn’t joking about you recuperating, Emma,” he said softly. “So I’m gonna make you some cocoa. And when your nerves have settled, you can join me in the cleaning of the apartment.”
“Why are you being so nice to me?” Emma complained, throwing herself dramatically against the couch. “I lost priceless family heirlooms and destroyed the entire apartment…”
“I think you’ve already beat yourself up enough for it, love,” Killian murmured, trying to imbue every ounce of sincerity into his words. He knelt beside her, hoping he was being reassuring. “And while I won’t lie to you: I’ll be devastated if it well and truly is lost, you shouldn’t feel like you have to continue to beat yourself up.”
Emma frowned as she looked at him. She opened her mouth to ask a question, but then closed it. She seemed to slump into the couch, all the fight drained out of her body.
He went into the kitchen to give her some space. In addition to her cocoa, he decided to get some Christmas cookies from his hidden cookie stash. Killian tried not to listen as she declared to her brother and she was the worst person alive and she had no idea how Killian was going to forgive her or how she could even think about enjoying Christmas if she lost his gift.
Emma treasured sentimental things. He knew this about her. But he hoped that he would not forsake her favorite holiday for his sake.
He’d survive without the ornaments. Truly.
But he hoped to god that they found them. As each moment passed, he was becoming more painfully aware that his friendship with Emma may not survive this event. But not from his side.
She would probably keep herself at a distance and put her walls up out of sheer guilt.
He couldn’t stand to be behind those walls again.
He couldn’t stand her not knowing just how important she was to him.
Knowing how sentimental she was, he figured he had one last move in trying to prove her importance in his life. Breathing deeply, he rushed to his room. His bedroom was still immaculate, and so he was able to quickly duck under his bed.
The gift was still neatly wrapped, the bow skillfully placed on top. He smiled softly at the box before heading back out into the living room.
She’d wrapped a blanket around herself and she was curled up on her side.
She’d never looked more beautiful to him.
Killian gently walked toward her, and she tilted her head up at him questioningly. She blinked owlishly at him for a moment, blurting out, “That’s not my hot cocoa.”
He couldn’t help but burst out laughing in spite of himself. “No, it’s not,” he chuckled, putting the box on the table in front of her.
“But why?” Emma protested, her shoulders coming up around her ears. A guarded and caged look entered her eyes.
“Because I need you to know just how important you are to me, Emma. More important than any ornament ever could be.”
“But they were your mother’s,” Emma protested softly. Her voice caught as she added, “I’d kill to have something of my mom’s. All I have is a torn baby blanket.”
“Open your present, love,” Killian insisted softly.
Delicately, she undid his careful wrapping and made sure to save the bow. “It’s a box,” she said, looking up at him, not making a move to open it any further.
“Your gift is inside the box,” he teased.
Her hands stayed firmly folded in her lap. “Killian, I can’t accept this. Especially after what I did. I ruined your Christmas.”
“Love, don’t you know that you’re all I need for Christmas?” The words well and truly flew out of Killian’s mouth before he could stop them. Her head jerked up abruptly and her eyes were wide with shock. He was almost positive that his jaw was hanging open too.
But he continued, “Don’t you know, Emma? It’s you. You here and happy is all I want. It’s what I’ve always wanted.” Killian scratched nervously behind his ear. “Perhaps some day as more than friends. But even if you never felt that way about me, it would still be all I’ve ever wanted.”
He could see the desperate flicker of hope enter her eyes, and he could practically see the thoughts chasing themselves across her face. He could say all those kind things to her, even when she had done what she considered to be an irredeemable act.
Because he truly cared for her.
And so he said the one thing he knew he could to confirm Emma’s hope.
“I love you, Emma.”
Before he could blink, his arms were full of her yet again and her mouth cautiously slid against his. He tightened his arm around her before returning her kiss, all but melting with relief that she not only believed in the strength of his feelings but seemed to return them as well.
When they broke apart, she rested his forehead against his. Very quietly, she asked against his lips, “You love me even though I didn’t get you a Christmas present?”
“I’d say you just did, love,” he hummed, chasing her lips again. She pulled away, levelling him with a look that told him that she genuinely did need the reassurance even though the corners of her mouth were twitching as if to fight back a smile. “Aye, love,” he promised. “They’re just ornaments.”
“I’ll make you new ones,” she promised, resting her hand on his chest. “They’ll be ugly and misshapen, but I’ll—” He silenced her again with a soft and gentle kiss, and Killian let out a sigh of relief when Emma seemed to melt against him. When they broke apart again, Emma’s head rest against his shoulder and he swayed with her gently in the kitchen.
“How long have you been hiding my present from me?” she asked, still staring at the box on the coffee table. “And where? I go into your room like all the time, I can’t believe I didn’t find it!”
He chuckled and kissed the top of her head. “Why, I put it in the one place I know you don’t look: under the bed.”
Emma gasped and jerked her head up so quickly that he would’ve had a broken nose if not for his quick reflexes. “I know where the box with the ornaments is!” she cried joyously, tearing herself from his arms.
He followed her back to her room, where she was more than halfway under her bed, pushing things out. “I hid it behind a ton of other stuff in case you ever went looking under my bed!” she exclaimed, her voice muffled.
“Why would I go looking underneath your bed, love?” Killian asked, unable to hold back his laughter this time.
“Because hiding anything from you is a full-time job,” Emma retorted happily, wiggling out from under the bed. Her hair was disheveled, her clothes covered in dust, but her eyes gleamed with unadulterated exuberance as she held a small white box on her hand.
Liam’s handwriting on the shipping label only confirmed that these were indeed the box of ornaments.
She all but sprung up and thrust the box into his hand. “Open it!” she demanded excitedly. The grin on her face was infectious, and she was every bit of the “kid on Christmas morning” picture, even though she was a fully grown adult.
Looking at Liam’s handwriting and knowing that he was only some clear tape away from being connected with a piece of his mother made his eyes water. Emma’s hand was quick to brush away any tears before they fell, and he dipped his cheek to kiss her palm. “Thank you,” he rasped, his voice too choked with emotion to be any louder. “Really, Emma. This is…”
“Don’t you know that I love you too?” she asked as if it was all the explanation he could’ve ever needed.
“Aye, I do,” he replied, and gingerly opened the box. There were some familiar ornaments that he’d seen in pictures: a kite from her grandmother that dated back to 1895, a pig, a basket, and angel, each one with a hand-embroidered date on it.
But the one that caught was one he was not familiar with. The date on the back said 1990, which would’ve been his first Christmas. Gingerly flipping it over, a beautiful swan stared up back at him and he found his eyes watering again.
“Did you know?” was all he could spit out.
“No,” she replied, her voice equally choked up. She gingerly rested her head against his shoulder as she looked into the box of ornaments with him. “But it seems your mom did.”
“Aye…” he chuckled wetly. “So she did.”
“Can we put them on the tree?” Emma asked hopefully, looking up at him. Unable to help himself, he leaned down to kiss her again, pouring his love and thanks into the gentle kiss.
“We should,” he agreed against her lips. “And we will. But only after you open your present.”
Emma rolled her eyes playfully and all but dragged him back to the living room with her. He watched as she opened the box and then immediately shut it again. “Is that…?” she asked.
“Aye, love,” he promised. “It is.”
With the most care and reverence he’d ever seen her take with anything, she gently took her repaired baby blanket out of the box. Her fingers gently trailed over the stitching, the letters of her name, all of it, as if to try to prove to herself it was real.
He would never forget the loving and content look on her face for as long as he lived.
It was probably what motivated to get her another box one year later.
Only that one had a ring in it.
And two years later?
She gave him a box with a onesie inside that said “I was Daddy’s Christmas present”.