AN-Have some fluff! I'd really like to write some angsty stuff with these two, but they've had enough heartache in their lives, so I'll stick with the silly stuff!

Enjoy! And thanks for all the reviews on the other fics, it really means a lot! Keep em up! :D

.:Mistletoe:.

Snow was trying to listen to Red as she chatted, but in her defense, her distraction was a legitimate one.

Snow watched her daughter climb over the back of the chair instead of walking through the small space that the rest of the doorway provided.

Her dark brows knitted, and Red stopped talking, following the would-be-queen's line of sight, then looked back, nodding. Snow looked to her, the question written on her pretty face, and Red grinned wolfishly, "It seems as if Killian has discovered mistletoe."

While Snow didn't exactly approve of the pirate, Red had taken to him quickly. The queen supposed it was their equally misunderstood pasts. Snow had half-hoped Red and Hook would hit it off, but instantly felt bad; she's seen Jiminy's face burn when someone mentioned the wolf, and, regardless of the man it came from, she only wanted her daughter's happiness.

Even if it might lie with the pirate.

Snow's brows knitted again in something akin to confused amusement, and she began scanning the apartment she used to share with her daughter. Dark eyes looked over this surface and that, her amusement growing as she counter the clusters of the holiday foliage. It was everywhere; in each doorway (sometimes two clusters per door), along the bottoms of the cabinets, and one was even attached to the ceiling fan, whirring lazily overhead.

"I'm pretty sure he put some in the freezer, too," Red commented with a grin.

"Well, I suppose no one can say he isn't romantic," Snow said in lieu of a compliment. Red laughed.

Emma growled to herself, trying to climb over the back of the chair with a bit of dignity and without looking like a moron.

She felt like she failed on both accounts.

Shaking her head, she stared at the ceiling, eyes keenly searching for the little bunches of hell. When she found out who told him about the foolish holiday tradition, she was going to skin them alive. She dodged each green and white bunch, and even leaned awkwardly around one attached to the bottom of the cabinet for a mug of coffee.

She was sipping the rich beverage, stewing silently, blonde brows drawn in annoyance.

So far, nothing had happened. The Christmas party was going off without a hitch, which meant she was just waiting on something to go wrong.

"Hazard of the job," She muttered to herself, closing her eyes.

"Hey."

She opened them though when she heard her father speak. He gave a tentative smile, and she looked his face over as she was prone to doing. It surprised her sometimes, just how much she looked like him. The nose, the chin, the lips, the coloring…it was almost mind-boggling.

James gave her a tentative smile, "Everything okay?"

"Yes," She huffed, and then realized how that sounded. Taking a deep breath, she gave him a small smile, "Yeah. It's okay. I'm kinda tired of the mistletoe bomb, but no harm done, I guess."

The would-be-king scowled, looking around quickly for the offending party. Emma saw him in the corner, carrying on what seemed to be quite the serious conversation with Henry, but didn't say anything. Someone called him away a moment later anyway, and he gave her a small smile before leaving.

Emma couldn't say much. The pirate hadn't tried to kill Gold—though the man wasn't really out and about, either—and the trouble he got in was, for the most part harmless. A stolen book, breaking into her apartment and rearranging things, and then there had been that one time he took her car…but had parked it around the curb.

Mostly, it was like a kid with ADD getting his energy out.

She didn't mind that too much.

But the mistletoe was driving her crazy. She knew what he was trying to do, and she wouldn't fall for it, and she would not let him win.

She could dodge the mistletoe in the man part of the apartment—although she had learned to look carefully, because after a few days of not getting his way, he'd began to move the clusters—but it was tricky when it came to the bedroom and such.

She'd nearly laid back, a bunch attached to her headboard. There had been some on the shower curtain rod, the shower head itself, and the faucet. Then there had been some about her dresser mirror, the medicine cabinet, on almost every handle in her room, and most of the kitchen handles as well.

Red walked up, grinning like the wolf she was, and Emma murmured thoughtfully into her cup, "Maybe I should tell him I'm allergic…"

"I doubt it would do any good," The woman mused with a chuckle. "Maybe you should just…y'know…"

Emma pulled her face from her mouth, eyeing her friend sharply, "Y'know? I most certainly do not know."

Red sighed loudly, crossing her arms as if very put-upon, but the corner of her red lips tilted up into a smile, "Just kiss him! Come on, Emma. He's attractive, he's funny, he's charming—"

"He's a pirate," Emma said drily, and Red rolled her eyes, "No one's perfect."

Emma's brows jumped toward her hairline, but that was the only answer she gave. She watched the man in question, her mug close to her mouth again. It wasn't that she hadn't thought about it, because she had. Pirate thing aside, he wasn't a bad guy. And he was surprisingly good with Henry. Her parents might not like him, but maybe even they would come around if they saw how good he was with Henry…and with her, if they ever got together.

And the tension was there.

"It's not like there isn't chemistry," Red said, mirroring her thoughts. Her blue eyes darted to meet the green ones of her friend, who snorted, "Come on, Emma! Anyone with eyes can see it! Those smoldering looks you throw each other when you think the other isn't looking, the heated arguments, and the flirting! And, pirate or not, the man hasn't looked at another woman since he got here. I think, maybe, that he's even put his revenge plan on the back-burner for you."

He couldn't have, could he? She remained silent, watching the man in question continue carrying on with her son, and contemplated that as people began to trickle out.

She tossed farewells and 'Happy Holidays' to people as they left—and a snort to Red, who said, "Just think about it."—and soon all that was left was she, Killian, and Henry.

As she approached the coffee table, dodging the maze of mistletoe, she wondered when he had ceased being Hook in her mind, and was instead Killian. That was puzzling, and she met his eyes as she stood by the coffee table.

A small smirk lit his lips, but within seconds it had widened, baring white teeth. Her light brows pulled together, "What?"

"Ah, love," Killian said, rounding the table, clearly, obviously happy with himself, "I knew you'd not be able to stand so vigilant forever."

Panic filtered through her system, and she looked at the couch and table and all the nearby furniture, but didn't see the offending item. Killian chuckled, lifting one finger to point to the ceiling, and Emma followed his gaze.

She nearly swore, because damned if the fan hadn't stopped, and the sole blade holding mistletoe stalled right over her head.

Killian glanced to the side, grinning with a thumbs up, and Emma followed that as well, gasping as she saw her son standing by the switch, "Henry, you little traitor!"

The boy shrugged, grinning himself, and Emma looked back to Killian, one brow raised. His palm—big, hot, heavy—rested gently on the back of her neck, and pulled her close, "I do believe you owe me a kiss, love."

She allowed him to press his lips to hers with the full intention of pulling away seconds later, but he was a damn good kisser. It was hot and passionate, but also sweet and gently, full of longing either way. She kissed back with fervor, with gingerness, until she caught his bottom lip between her teeth and pulled away, releasing it with a snap.

She smirked triumphantly and self-satisfied at his surprised expression.