Part 2

What was the big deal about Christmas, anyway?

It had never really bothered Emma to work on this day. After all, it was a holiday for families; something Emma had never been a part of. The last thing she wanted was to spend the hours leading up to the big day alone, thinking about how she didn't have anyone to celebrate the day with. Working on Christmas, she discovered, was typically a decent distraction from her wallowing.

So what if she was a Grinch and glared at anyone who dared to wish her a 'Happy Holiday'? She had orders to fill, things to clean and organize, drinks to serve, and money to make. She didn't need any of that holiday bullshit in her life.

This year, however, everything was different. Christmas couldn't come fast enough, and she found herself actually looking forward to it and all that went with it, even letting herself get caught up in the so-called holiday spirit. And it was all because this year, she had a family to spend it with.

She had her son to spend it with.

True, it had only been a few months since she had been in Henry's life (ever since he had begged his adopted mother, Regina, to allow him to meet his birth mother, and out of the blue he had shown up at her door), but that hardly mattered. Henry was the best thing that had ever happened to her.

And while the ensuing months had been a blur of guilt and long-buried emotions (How does a person deal with re-connecting with son they gave up for adoption because they were in prison at the time and they had been an orphan themselves and had no idea how to be a parent? Google didn't have those answers. She should know, she checked.), it had also been the happiest she had ever been. Though it took a while to adjust to being a mother, and despite all her misgivings, she was gradually beginning to feel like she a part of something. That she had someone who wanted her and wouldn't give up on her.

However, there were times (too many times) that she doubted herself; worried that somehow she'd end up letting him down. But Henry was so full of hope and optimism, it must be wearing off on her because, damn it, she was really starting to get into this whole holiday thing. There were lights strung up around her apartment, a small plastic tree with Marvel and Disney ornaments (that Henry had helped her pick out), a couple stocking hanging up on her window sill, and a fridge full of holiday treats. It was more than she had ever dreamed she could have.

However, it didn't take long before her fears resurfaced. After all, this was CHRISTMAS, the big one, the holiday every kid dreams about and looks forward to all year long. It was also a holiday Emma had no real experience with. She grew up in orphanages and group homes. A Merry Christmas was something that happened to other people. What if she messed it up? What if she didn't get it right?

So, of course, in the weeks leading up to the big day, she became more and more nervous and worried and excited and hopeful. It got to the point where she could barely sleep. Too many doubts nagged at her, too many old fears played havoc with her mind. Henry would be coming over in a few hours time, and to say she had been freaking out was putting it mildly. So, at nine, she called Granny and begged to be able to work the night shift, even though she had previously asked for it off. Ruby was only too happy to switch with her, eager to go out and make merry all night long. And Emma was grateful for what she thought would be the perfect distraction.

Only, like always, things didn't go as planned. In years past, the diner was usually busy all night with others just like her who had no real family, or who didn't wish to be around them. Sure, there were the occasional night-owl shoppers who were just stopping by after picking up all their last-minute Christmas gifts, but for the most part, it was just a steady stream of lonely people who didn't judge her for having nothing better to do.)

However, this Christmas Eve, the snow had fallen so thick and heavy, the plows hadn't yet made it to this side of town, and she had been without customers for hours. There was only so many times she could clean the table tops and fill the salt and pepper shakers without going out of her damned mind.

So much for a distraction.

Therefore, when a cold breeze brought in a very drunk and boisterous (not to mention handsome) British import singing like he was trying out for The Voice, Emma's normal cynicism was conspicuously absent. Besides, she had dealt with her fair share of drunks, and having someone so easy on the eyes sing to her wasn't the worst thing that had ever happened to her. So what if the man's singing was awful? At least he seemed truly happy and enthusiastic about it. What was the harm in that?

And then in walked the other one; dark hair dusted with snow, black coat and jeans, and—oh, god—eyes so blue they put the sky to shame, and she knew precisely what the harm in it was. Especially when he also had fucking dimples tucked into his scruff and cheeks that colored a soft pink when he smiled at her in apology.

This was so very, very bad.

Or maybe she had just fallen asleep at the counter and begun dreaming about her super-secret, x-rated Christmas wish.

Before she could pinch herself, she was shaken out of her stupor by the taller, curlier-haired one singing a slurred refrain of "It Came Upon a Midnight Clear," while giving her a wink that should have been illegal in any country. So was so flustered that she nearly missed the other one's "Sorry, lass."

And, of course, she would do something monumentally stupid like turning to look at him. Damn. This close, he was even more handsome, she sighed inwardly as he flashed her a devastating smile. This was simply unfair. One hot guy she could handle, but two? And in black leather…with an earring! Fuck her life!

Realizing she had missed the rest of his speech, she scolded herself and did what she did best. She'd pretended to be annoyed and angry and hopefully he'd just figure out she was too much trouble and leave her alone. But another quick glance at him made her wonder if it would really be that simple. Digging her nails into her arms to steady herself and to keep them from doing something stupid like reaching across the counter and latching hold of what looked to be a killer set of biceps, she shrugged in her most aloof manner. "It's fine."

Truth was, it was fine. Even with the flash of heat deep in her belly at the sight of the man's smile, she found that she didn't mind the presence of either one in any way. What the hell was wrong with her? Where was that feeling of being suffocated and itchy she was so used to? Why wasn't she running for the hills? Emma Swan didn't do relationships and she didn't do complicated. Just because she was feeling a bit merry and wanting to have a good time didn't mean she was ready for whatever that look he was giving her was. It was a look that just breathed danger. Especially to her heart.

Sure, she was nervous and could barely look the guy in eye as he introduced himself and his brother, but there was something about the way the two of them interacted that made her feel lighter than she had in ages. It made her want to stay and smile and forget about her fears for one damn night and just be…happy.

So that's exactly what she did.

God, all this Christmas spirit crap really was starting to get to her.

Over the random bursts of Liam's singing, she and Killian fell quickly into an easy banter. It was so strange how natural it felt to talk to him. Sure, he flirted like crazy and had a massive ego, but he also tried to make her laugh even though she did her best not to. And it was impossible not to smile as he grumbled about his brother flubbing the lyrics or the way he drunkenly bumbled into the tables. Within moments, she realized she really didn't want to fight it anyway, and just went with it. Laughing all the way.

Between Liam's sonic outbursts, Killian managed to convince his brother that it was 'bad form' to sit at a diner all night and not eat. Part of her wondered if maybe the food would sober them up and send them on their way, and part of her wondered why she was so bothered by that thought. However, after their food arrived, neither man seemed to be any rush to leave. They even shared their onion rings and fries with her as she sipped her own hot chocolate, and she wondered if the warmth she was feeling in her chest was from the drink or from something else.

As soon as they were finished, Liam resumed his merrymaking, while Killian sat at the counter and continued to talk. Somewhere between "Frosty the Snowman" and "All I Want for Christmas," she learned about their life in England and about their experiences so far in Boston. She shared horror stories of past Christmases at the diner, but promised the boys that Liam's drunken caroling was the new top of the list.

She also managed to wrangle out of Killian that the reason they were gracing her with their presence was because they were new to the city and had lost their way home in all that snow. At this point, a hilarious shouting match over whose fault it was that they were lost ensued between the brothers and Emma teased that her ten-year-old son was more mature than either of the men. Neither flinched at the mention of her kid, and when Killian gave her a warm, understanding look, she flushed and smacked his arm.

Faking a look of hurt, he rubbed his arm, saying, "Oy, Swan! You have a hell of a swing, there. A man might feel intimidated."

"Then he should stop eating so many onion rings and go to the gym once in a while," she teased, slapping him lightly once more.

He cocked a brow at her, and licked his lips. A second later, he ran his hands down his torso, her eyes immediately following their descent. "I'll have you know, Swan, that this superior physique was the result of long hours of work and dedication. Whereas my brother's is merely a result of some sort of freakish genetic mutation. Honestly, there have been scientists calling for ages trying to figure out how someone so abhorrent even exists."

She hummed to herself, biting her lip to keep from grinning. "I'm not sure that's the reason they want to study him, Jones. I'm pretty sure they want to clone him to create a race of superior beings, since he's clearly the most perfect male specimen on the planet."

"Swan," he growled menacingly. She began to giggle at the kicked puppy look he was giving her. "You're just lucky Liam's off his nut or I'd never, ever, live this conversation down and believe me, I'd make you pay for your dishonesty and defamation of my character."

Emma could feel the heat from his stare burning down her body. "Oh yeah? You'll make me pay, huh? How are you going to do th—"

She was just starting to think that this might be the most fun she'd had in ages, when Liam called out from the other side of the diner. "Sing with me, brother! I know you know the lyrics to 'All I Want for Christmas Is You'. You used to sing it all the time."

It was like someone had doused him in a bucket of ice. The flirtatious looks he was throwing at her turned into a look of absolute horror. For a moment, Emma worried he might either flee the diner or deck his brother. All night she had been wondering why he never joined in singing with his brother, but she had thought it was because he was embarrassed by his voice or something. Regardless, she knew better than to pry. But this reaction seemed far deeper than a little bit of stage fright.

"I can't," was all he managed to say as he stood up and moved to a booth in the corner.

Emma found herself torn between wanting to give him space and dying of curiosity. Eventually, the curiosity won out, and she went after him. Or maybe it wasn't really curiosity. Maybe it was because she knew that look; the look of grief and deep, deep heartache-the kind that left permanent scars. Oh god, did she know that look. In fact, she wore that look whenever anyone asked about her past, or more specifically, her love life (Fuck you, Neal. You and your stupid watches). She knew what it meant to have that look in your eyes.

Sitting down across from him without saying a word, Emma slipped her hand into his. Killian looked down at it and then up at her with a strange intensity that she couldn't read. Or maybe she did. Either way, she was already wondering why she took his hand, even though the rough callouses felt so warm and nice against her own that she was having a difficult time finding a reason to pull away.

Thankfully, Liam dropped down in the seat next to them, obviously aware that he had said something terribly wrong, and Killian abruptly pulled his hand away from hers. It left her feeling oddly cold and empty. When she looked at him, though, he was looking out the snow falling out the window.

Liam leaned forward, like he wanted to say something to his brother, then seemed to think better of it. Instead, he turned to her with a plastered-on smile and teasing note in his voice. "I'll bet Emma knows some songs, then," he coaxed while his eyes silently begged her to help him win his brother back.

She gave him a tiny nod and managed a loud (and only slightly fake) laugh as she threw a napkin in his direction. "Emma does. That doesn't mean she is going to make a complete fool of herself by singing any them. Especially not with you. We'd sound like a couple of stuck pigs."

Liam dropped his jaw open and rolled his eyes, as if he was offended by her commentary on his singing. (God, they really were brothers, she thought.) He huffed and stood up, shooting her a wink to let her know he wasn't really, and left the two of them alone again.

When she turned back, Killian was looking at her with those same intense blue eyes. "I'll bet you have a lovely singing voice, Swan."

She swallowed hard, her face feeling hot. "Well, I'll show you mine if you show me yours," she teased, attempting to get back to whatever they had been doing earlier. Only now, there was something that felt more like a live wire running between them. Something infinitely more dangerous.

Killian blinked, then a slow, salacious smirk spread over his face. "No need to stand on ceremony, love. I'll be happy to show you whatever you wish."

When did it get so hot in here? Maybe she should turn down the heat. Or open the door and let some ice in. Or just throw herself into a snow bank. Yeah. That'd work.

"I meant the singing, Jones."

The smile drifted away as his eyes fluttered closed and his shoulders collapsed. "I… I can't, Emma. I'm sorry."

Shit, shit, shit. Way to stick your foot in it, Emma. She opened her mouth to apologize, but before she could get a sound out, she was suddenly being whisked away and twirled about by a pair of (very) strong arms. Liam was singing "Good King Wenceslas" and doing a fairly decent waltz with her around the tables, managing to not hit her against a single one.

As she spun round, she saw Killian watching closely with his brow furrowed. She was dying to know what he was thinking about, but couldn't seem to break free of Liam's grasp. She looked back up to the man who held her, and just after he sang about the snow being 'nice and crisp and even,' gave her a tiny wink instead, and whispered, "It's been a long time since I've seen my brother look as happy as he has tonight, lass. Thank you."

"What for?" She asked.

He grinned at her, and just began singing again.

Not for the first time, she wondered how drunk the elder Jones truly was.

As the song ended, Emma found herself in a new pair of arms. Liam had moved on to a slower-paced rendition of "White Christmas" (which he sang flawlessly) as Killian twirled her around in smooth circles. He was light on his feet and much more smooth than his brother, but there was something about the heat from his hands on her back, the heady smell of his cologne, and that intense look he kept giving her that had her literally sprinting away the moment the dance ended.

Too much, she thought. All too much. I can't do this.

For the better part of a quarter hour, she hid out in the back with Leroy (who was watching Christmas movies on a tiny TV) before he gruffly told her she was being ridiculous and forced her to go back out front. In no uncertain terms, he reminded her that it was her job to watch the diner and make sure nothing got stolen or whatever-especially if she was going to continue to let those two drunken fools keep hanging around and making a ruckus.

The Jones brothers were deep into some sort of discussion when she emerged and Emma couldn't help but feel like it had been about her. As soon as she approached them, however, they immediately started bickering like children again about the best Christmas movie-"Die Hard. Hands down." "You only pick that because it's the only Christmas movie you've seen." "No, I pick it because Bruce Willis is a badass and the movie is amazing, little brother." "Sometimes I think you spent too much time in the Navy. They've clearly warped you. And it's younger brother, you git." "Emma, you strike me as admiring the works of Bruce Willis. Will you please tell my baby brother that Die Hard is the greatest Christmas movie of all time?" "Swan, please tell my clearly senile older brother to kiss my arse."-as if nothing had changed. The ease and familiarity of it all made her ache deeply in her chest. Maybe she hadn't screwed everything up. Maybe it wasn't too late.

Killian caught her eye and he gave her a soft grin, scratching behind his ear before turning back to snipe at his brother. That was all it took, and she knew with utter surety that he understood.

For the first time that night, Emma realized she wanted to be a part of something with these two, and not just for tonight, either. It really freaked her out, because Emma knew that no one ever stayed. Every one abandoned her. And yet, there was an instant connection with both Jones boys that she couldn't deny. Like she had become a part of their little family.

She supposed there could be worse families to belong to. Even with the way they would shout insults and mock wrestle every five seconds, there was no mistaking the affection they had for one another. At times, it made her feel a bit wistful that she never had any close siblings (or any family at all, really) growing up. But she couldn't begrudge the boy's their bond; not when it seemed to bring them so much joy.

"Hello, love." Killian said breathlessly, leaning over the counter to catch his breath as his brother collapsed into a booth at the far end of the diner. They had been arm wrestling each other for the better part of a half-an-hour with no clear winner. "Sick of us yet?"

"Don't worry. When you've outlived your entertainment value, I'll toss you outside and turn you both into snowmen."

"I knew we were growing on you," he replied, the grin spreading across his face.

"Eh," she sighed, "you'll do, but only because there's no one else here to keep me from strangling myself with the tinsel."

"Well, I suppose I'll have to try harder to keep you suitably diverted," he said while his tongue did something sinful against his teeth.

Again, the electricity rippled through the air. She swallowed hard and clutched the cleaning rag she was holding even tighter. His eyes darkened and immediately trailed downward with the movement landing on her lips when she licked them. There was a thickness to the air around them, and for a second, she felt herself leaning forward as he was leaning forward…

"Go'Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen, le'nothing you display!" Liam bellowed. His words were all running together as his energy began flagging.

Emma flew backwards with a laugh, while Killian rolled his eyes and groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. He gave Emma an apologetic look and she reached out and patted his arm, the tension broken. She was glad for it, even if part of her (a really big part of her) wanted to see what would have happened if Liam hadn't interrupted them.

Eventually, Liam's mumbled singing faded away as he collapsed into a booth and fell asleep. Neither of them even noticed, they were far too involved in their own world. At first, they shared the same easy conversations they'd been having all night, but soon enough, they were discussing personal matters, the kind which she never talked about to anyone. Ever. It was all so easy with Killian; like they had been friends for ages.

When she found herself opening up about her son and her feelings about being a mother, he listened to her with a depth of understanding that was shocking. He told her about growing up without a mother and how his father had abandoned them, leaving Liam to look after him. It made sense, then, the bond that she had seen between the two Joneses. They were all they had in the world. She could relate. All she had was Henry. From that, it was easy to tell him about being an orphan, about Neal and prison and being abandoned over and over again.

He told her about Milah and about his dream to become a singer. He told her of meeting Milah, and how they fell for each other instantly. He told her of their band, "The Fortune Hunters" and how he would write songs and sing them for her on stage and how she would play for him, and how, for a brief time, everything was perfect. Until it wasn't, and the heart defect that killed her struck so suddenly, she barely got out 'I love you,' before she was gone and his world was shattered.

"Why don't you sing anymore, Killian?" She asked, already sensing the answer to that question.

He took a deep breath, his fingers tracing small loops around the table top. "When Milah died, so did the music."

Struck by an impulse, she reached out and took his hand again. "Do you miss it, though?"

"Aye, I miss it," he confessed, and she found herself drowning once more in those soulful blue eyes that were always so focused on her.

Before either of them realized it, the sun was already coming up. It was Christmas Day, and suddenly Emma felt nervous at what all had transpired that night.

She should run. She had Henry to think about now, and it was just what she did. It was what kept her safe.

But she didn't want to, and the thought of never seeing either of the Jones boys again tore her heart to pieces

Killian, meanwhile, felt a stirring in his heart that had been noticeably absent for far too long. He looked back over his shoulder. Liam was still passed out in a booth, snoring loudly with his legs propped haphazardly in the air. He chuckled as he felt a rush of tender affection for his brother. The tosser had sang himself hoarse trying to keep Emma and him in good spirits. He also didn't fail to notice how his brother had kept trying to push him towards Emma all night. Liam Jones was about as subtle as a brick to the head.

It hit him then that he didn't want this night with Emma to end, and that maybe it didn't have to. All they had to do was take a chance. And he knew that's what he wanted. A chance to be part of something again. A chance with Emma Swan.

He turned back around, wanting to tell her about his realization, only to be met by the sight of her gathering her coat and purse from the back. Her knit beanie was already snugged down over her ears, and if his heart wasn't aching so badly at the sight, he would have said she looked adorable.

"You're leaving?" He choked out instead.

"Yeah," Emma answered softly. She circled around the counter, clutching the coat tightly in her arms like a shield. "Shift's almost up, and I have to get some sleep in before I meet up with Henry."

"Oh," he replied lamely. You bloody idiot, he scolded himself, it's Christmas and she's getting to spend it with her son for the first time. That's far more important than you chatting her up. "Of course, love. I'm sure you want to be alert for your time with your son."

He had noticed earlier how her green eyes softened into a mellow jade when she spoke about her son and now was no exception. He wanted to drown in them. "Yeah. He's a really great kid, but, man, does he have a lot of energy," she huffed.

She was so close to him, he couldn't help the way his hand reached up of its own accord and tucked a loose curl back into her wooly hat. Her eyes followed the movement closely. "I bet he takes after you in that regard."

"Killian…" she started, her chest rising and falling rapidly, as she watched his hand return back to his side. "Thanks for keeping me company."

"T'was no bother at all," he replied easily, his thumb tracing over the tips of his fingers as if he could replay the softness of her hair on his skin. "I should be the one thanking you for not just kicking us out on our sorry arses the second Liam opened his mouth."

"No," she stated, suddenly placing her hand on his arm. "I really had a good time. One of the best Christmas's I can remember. And tell Liam thank you, too."

"Absolutely," he agreed quietly, almost whispering. She was so close and smelled so heavenly, he longed to just grab her in his arms and kiss her passionately.

Gods, it couldn't end like this! Not after what they shared. And she was looking at him like she didn't really want to leave either. His heart raced and he knew that this was it. If he was unwilling to fight for what he wanted, then he would most assuredly deserve what he got.

"Emma. I…I really enjoyed myself as well. And I'd really hate for this to be the last time we spoke to each other."

"Killian, I—" she began, taking a step back, those walls she had been slowly lowering for him all night now covering her features.

What had happened? What had changed? "Just your number, Swan. That's all I'm asking for."

"I don't…I can't…" she shook her head, shutting him out once more. However, there seemed to be an internal struggle going on behind those wondrous green eyes of hers.

Come on, love. Take a leap of faith.

Didn't she know that it was every bit as hard to open himself up to the possibility of love as it was for her? But he knew he didn't want to let his heart grow cold and lifeless, not now that she made it beat again. He was not going to allow whatever this connection was between them to die out before it even began. All he had to do was make her see it, too.

He took a step towards her and when she didn't retreat, he took it as a good sign. Cautiously, he lifted his hand to touch her cheek, the thumb stroking over the pink-tinged apple and down to her jaw. "Emma, I know you're scared. I am too," he studied her, noticing how her eyes grew darker and less wild as he continued to brush across her cheek. He took another step closer, bringing his body in direct contact with hers. "I know there's something here, love, and I think you feel it but you're too scared to take a chance that you might be wrong about me. But that's all I'm asking for. A chance. Come on, Swan. What do you say?"

His heart thudded against his chest while he waited for her reply. He was positive he would be met with another rejection, positive that it was over. So he was completely thrown when she closed her eyes tightly, clenched her fist, and blurted, "A song."

"What?"

Her eyes opened, and he could see a fiery determination behind them that nearly left him breathless. "That's what it will take to get my number." She pivoted, placing her coat on a stool behind her and turned back to him with an arch look like a princess making a royal decree. "I require you to sing one Christmas carol." Bringing her hand up to stroke the V of his shirt, she added tenderly as if in afterthought, "If I have to take a chance, so do you."

Bloody hell. She was a tough lass. Forget breaking down his defenses, she barreled her way through them like a wrecking ball. But he knew she was right. How could he claim to want to take a chance with her while still holding on to the ghosts of his past.

He knew what he had to do.

Still watching her, he began to sing; softly, slowly, then growing louder as his fears fell away underneath her burning gaze.

"Have yourself a merry little Christmas,
Let your heart be light
From now on,
our troubles will be out of sight."

Emma had never heard such a voice. It was deep and clear and it stole her breath away. She stood transfixed, watching him as he closed his eyes and lost himself in the music.

"Have yourself a merry little Christmas,
Make the Yule-tide gay,
From now on,
our troubles will be miles away."

As he sang, memories washed over her. Happy memories, long buried and forgotten: She was three and she awoke at dawn, racing out of her room at the foster home to see if Santa had brought her anything. And he had. Under the tree was a pile of gifts all addressed to her. She was twelve and Ingrid had made her favorite pancakes for breakfast and all the foster kids gathered around the table, laughing and talking about what they had gotten for Christmas. She was eighteen and Neal had suggested they go ice skating at the park. She was terrible at it and she kept falling down and dragging him with her, but neither of them could stop laughing.

"Here we are as in olden days,
Happy golden days of yore.
Faithful friends who are dear to us
Gather near to us once more."

And it was like, for the first time, she saw the memories as just that…memories. They weren't painful reminders of a scarred past, they were just happy moments free of their burden and sadness. They didn't hurt to remember. Not with Killian's beautiful voice soothing the ache of her soul.

Still clutching at his shirt, her other hand reached down for his needing it to steady herself. His eyes flew open; a dazzling blue mirroring the early morning sky and she was transfixed. He didn't stop singing, but it was like he held her heart in his hand and was slowly coaxing it back to life.

"Through the years
We all will be together,
If the Fates allow
Hang a shining star
upon the highest bough.
And have yourself
A merry little Christmas now."

As the last refrain echoed in the quiet, empty diner, Liam Jones lifted his head and smiled at the sight before him. His brother and Emma were locked together tightly, hands in each other's hair, and their lips fused together in a very heated kiss. The kind of passionate, earth-shattering kind of kiss that changed a person's whole life around.

Also, the kind of kiss that didn't need to be spied on, especially by an older brother.

Instead, he laid his head back down and stared up at the ceiling. Suddenly, a huge smile broke out over his face as he crossed his arms and chuckled silently to himself.

Drunken Christmas caroling might turn out to best idea he's had yet.

…..

A/N- There you have it. The end. I didn't quite make it on Christmas Day like I wanted, but I hope it keeps you warm and toasty all the same. Happy Holidays, everybody!

"Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas." Lyrics by Ralph Blane.

Don't forget reviews make wonderful gifts, too J