A/N: Merry Christmas, one and all! I know this is super duper late, but Christmas has been so busy! Anywho, this was done for a challenge on Tumblr, but I liked this one so I decided to post it here as well. :) For my Densi readers, stay tuned around New Years. ;)

He's sitting in her living room.

It's Christmas Eve, and Emma Swan has Captain Hook sitting on her couch in her living room, just staring at her Christmas tree with a gleam in his eyes. Emma's eyes can't help but be drawn to him, and by now, she's given up on not staring at him. With his face lit by the lights on her tree, and his mouth quirked in a content half-smirk, he's breathtaking.

Not that she'd ever admit that to anybody. Any woman with eyes is likely coming to the same conclusion she is.

This is the third Christmas he's spent in Storybrooke, and her fourth. And truly, it's amazing how much things have changed. She never imagined her life would literally end up being some fairytale, and that she'd not only have Henry, but a family. Her parents, who are now cozy together in the loveseat across from her. And this pirate, this pirate she absolutely despised upon his arrival at Storybrooke who is now one of the most constant characters in her life.

Christmas miracles? She might believe in them now.

"I saw that!" Ruby says jovially, plopping down next to Emma, grinning from ear to ear. Emma, knowing she's been caught, tries to cover for herself anyways.

"What?" she asks innocently.

"Oh come on, Emma, you've got to have noticed by now. Aren't you supposed to be the product of true love?" she teases, prodding her gently in the side.

"Doesn't mean a thing," Emma replies, smiling despite herself. "I grew up in a world without magic, remember?"

"Regardless," Ruby continues, "Even I notice something's different between the two of you. Especially considering how things were o his first Christmas here."

.

.

She really hates him.

Like that serious, burning, grotesque hatred in the pit of her stomach that makes her want to either punch him in the gut or kiss him senseless.

Oh shit. She's going to have to pretend that she didn't say that. Think that. Whatever.

He's almost unrecognizable in the hospital bed. He looks like the Phantom of the Opera, half of his face bandaged in gauze and tape. That's what the bastard gets for stealing her gun and thinking he could actually just kill Gold. She's glad Gold insisted she not charge him with anything, although the man's motives for that concern her.

He had broken into his pawn shop, kidnaped Belle, and tried to shoot Gold. But he had underestimated Gold's powers, as the sorcerer used magic to send the bullet back towards him, grazing his face in the side before throwing him into the wall. Hard.

She had been the first to stumble upon his practically mangled body, and she doesn't care to revisit the memory any time soon. In that split second, when she thought he was dead . . . she had been far more terrified than she had any right to be.

He was a villain. He looked like one, talked like one, even strutted around like he was one. Except . . . except when he looked at her. Those flirty glances, the way he knew her story by just looking into her eyes.

Damn that man. He's not even supposed to exist. Then again, neither is anyone else she knows and cares about. Not that she cares about him. She doesn't even trust him.

Dr. Whale did his job and more, bringing the pirate back into stable condition before insisting that he be allowed to go home for a little "holiday cheer". Emma had allowed it, agreeing to stay and keep watch over his patient for the night. After a quick phone call to Henry, who now is very eager to meet Captain Hook, she's stuck staring at him through the hospital room window.

He looks so different.

His eyes, those eyes that are so full of vibrance and life, are closed. His eyebrows, those eyebrows that can rise suggestively at anything, are lax. His mouth, that quirks into a smirk often and makes any thought coming out of it sexual, doesn't smile or frown. He's just there, covered in dark bruises and cuts.

It's so wrong. So, so wrong.

She thinks she sees some movement, so she opens the door and steps into his room quickly, striding over to him. His mouth is parted, and a soft groan comes out of it. "Swan," he questions hoarsely. How many drugs did Whale give him again?

"I'm here," she says softly in reply. His hand snakes over to hers, fingers entwining with hers.

"Swan . . ." he tries again, "Being a bit hasty, aren't we?"

There's the Hook I know.

Snorting huffily, Emma throws his hand back onto the hospital bed and crosses her arms. "Grow up, Hook," she snaps, "You're the one who took my hand in the first place."

"Just wanted to see what you would do," he replies, hissing in pain as he pushes himself into a sitting position. "Are you here to arrest me?"

"Gold, uh, Rumpelstiltskin isn't pressing charges," Emma replies. "I'm on guard duty."

"Your concern is touching."

"Don't flatter yourself." She glances around. "I shouldn't be on that watch for Cora, should I? Because if she could watch you, that would be great."

"She didn't know what I was doing." Emma casts a disbelieving look to him. "You know I don't lie to you, Swan." Emma grudgingly admits to herself the truth of the statement and sighs. "What day is it?"

"Monday."

"Should've been more specific. I mean, you have anything useful to tell me?"

"Christmas Eve," Emma snaps. To her surprise, his eyes spark with recognition and . . . glee? What the hell? "Wait, you know about Christmas?"

"Swan," he says with an amused chuckle, "Neverland is full of children who will never grow up, and you expect there to not be a Christmas?" Emma can't hide the smile that graces her features. "Well, lass, I'm sorry for keeping you here on Christmas Eve."

"Just don't pull a stunt like that again," Emma replies dismissively, turning away to return to her post. To her shock, his expression darkens.

"No." She turns around in surprise.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm going to get my revenge," he says, eyes more determined than she'd ever seen. "I don't care what I have to do, or how many Christmas Eves I miss, but I will get my revenge," he repeats. Nothing you can do will stop me."

.

.

"Things certainly have changed," Emma relents carefully, "But that doesn't . . . mean . . ." She trails off, her retort caught in her throat as Henry runs up to Killian with a wooden sword in hand. David peers over at them cautiously, but Hook turns down the sword, instead reaching down and handing a bag (that Emma swears belongs to her) and handing it to Henry. He looks over to Emma for approval, and she gives him an encouraging nod before sending Killian a curious look. He just shakes his head, grinning.

Henry opens the bag, his face lighting up in wonder as he pulls out a bottle. Inside the bottle is a ship, Hook's ship. It's enchanted, sailing as if on night waters. The sails billow in the gently night breeze, and invisible stars reflect off of the midnight blue waters of the sea inside the bottle.

"Wow!" Henry practically squeaks in delight, giving Killian a massive hug before running over to Emma in delight. "Mom, look at it! It's just like in Pirates of the Caribbean! It's sailing in a bottle!"

"It is!" Emma agrees, catching Killian's eye in bewilderment. Henry runs over to David and Mary Margaret to show them, and soon the entire party is abuzz about Captain Hook's gift to Henry. Even Regina, who has stuck to a secluded corner of the house within eyesight of Henry, looks impressed by the enchanted gift.

Emma is the only one who knows about the ship. She knows where he got it, how he got it, but all that runs through her mind is the last time she saw that bottle . . . last Chrristmas.

.

.

"I need to get home soon, Hook," Emma says. "Why are we here, anyways?"

"I was filing my hook today," Hook answers over his shoulder, "When I realized that you've never been on my ship before." Emma stops in her tracks, raising an eyebrow. He stops and turns around as well, beckoning her forward. "Yes, lass, that's where I'm taking you."

Emma shakes her head and chuckles. So much has changed in the span of one year between her and this pirate walking ahead of her. For one, Cora is finally out of the picture, killed by Regina after an attempt on Henry's life. Emma herself has no will to think about that battle, in which she was a reluctant combatant, except for remembering the one good thing that had come out of it besides Cora's defeat.

Emma and Hook had met once again in sword combat, and truthfully, Emma had been in too deep. He was a superior swordsman in every respect- experience, form, confidence. He had finally pinned her down to the ground, with his sword to her neck, but had frozen, content to just keep her down until Cora finally told him to finish the job. To Emma's shock, he had just looked into her eyes before turning around and flinging his sword to Regina, who somehow had the box containing Cora's heart.

Things ended fairly quickly after that.

She and Hook had formed a strange, albeit unsteady partnership ever since. He proved to be very content to spend most of his time at the Sheriff's Station, bothering her at work. But she couldn't bring herself to mind. He was actually quite useful sometimes. But she should have known that. You don't get to be a renowned pirate via stupidity.

But everything else seems to fade into dust when her gaze catches a small item resting on one of his shelves near the corner of the cabin. It's a dark corner, but something there seems to be . . . glowing. Almost like a lava lamp. She walks over to it curiously, and can't sustain her gasp of delight.

It's a ship in a bottle.

But it's not just any ship . . . it's Hook's ship. She peers closer at it with wonder, taking note of the bright pinks and oranges reflecting off of the small waves that are somehow blowing in a sea breeze. It's as if the essence of the ocean at sunset has been captured in the tiny little glass bottle, a private piece of heaven.

And suddenly he's there too, right at her back, snickering. "People rarely notice it when I invite them into here," he murmurs, almost into her neck. Her eyes flutter closed as his hand and hook latch onto her belt buckles. "But this is my favorite item on my ship."

"I can see why," Emma remarks, keeping her eyes fixed on the beautiful item. "How did you . . . ?"

"I didn't," he cuts in, "Tink did." Emma snorts.

"Tink as in . . ."

"Tinkerbell." Emma's eyes widen.

"Wait, she's real?"

"Yes."

"Does she wear green?"

"If she feels like it, yeah, I don't see why not." He sounds puzzled.

"Is she blonde?"

"Yes." He snickers. "Why does this matter?"

"Should've known," Emma mutters, laughing softly. "Should've known."

For a long while the two just stand there together in a comfortable silence, watching the pinks and oranges in the bottle slowly fade into lavenders and teals. The sunset is ending. Emma feels almost jerked out of a dream when Killian gently turns her to face him, eyes stormy. She's suddenly terrified, but not for the reasons she would have expected.

"Hook . . ." she whispers shakily, shutting up when he shakes his head.

"Killian," he corrects, winking. His forehead comes to a rest on hers, and her eyes once again flutter closed. One of her arms leaves its perch on his chest and wraps around his neck as if by instinct. "You have been . . ." he murmurs, "Such a distraction." His hand wanders from her waist into her hair, tangling in the blonde locks. "It's hard to focus on my revenge," he whispers, lips barely brushing hers, "When you're running off to New York . . . returning with that man that made you leave me on the beanstalk . . . making things glow . . ." Emma's other arm wraps around his neck so that they are now wrapped in an intimate embrace.. "My life would be so much simpler without you."

She glances up, and notices with a chuckle that they are beneath mistletoe, and have been for quite some time. Sly little bastard.

"Well," she breathes, "Simple is boring anyways."

"Bloody right," Hook growls, finally capturing her lips in a hungry kiss. He pulls her into him roughly, his hand tangling deeper into her hair as she tugs his face closer, closer. He bites at her bottom lip teasingly, smoothing it over with his tongue before beginning a pathway down her neck.

"Hook-Killian," Emma gasps as he gently sucks to column of her throat, "We-" She can't seem to focus, but God, she really needs to right about now. "No!" She finally manages to push him off of her.

"What was that for?" he almost whines, "I was quite enjoying myself." His teasing gaze cools when he sees the wild look in Emma's eyes. "Emma?"

"I can't . . ." she whispers, "I just-"

She runs, not turning back.

.

.

Ruby was the only person Emma could tell. Because some things are best keept from your mother, especially when said mother has felt personally victimized by a certain someone's incessant flirting.

"Remind me why you haven't gotten any of that action yet?" she chuckles. Emma blushes, eyes still locked on the ship in the bottle.

"You know why," Emma whispers back, "He's who he is, and I'm just. . ."

"In love with him?" Ruby finishes.

"Yes. Wait, no!" Ruby laughs openly then, delighted that her little trick actually worked. Emma chokes a bit on her apple cider, setting the glass down and coughing for a moment before finally tearing her gaze away from the ship and turning to Ruby, who is watching her exasperatedly.

"Come on, Emma, it's pretty clear what's on your mind tonight. You don't let just anyone be around Henry, the two of you are always talking now, always having lunch together, you even let him work cases with you sometimes! I don't know if you can tell, but you two are like a sure thing. Who was there for you when Neal left again? Who saved your life?"

"Him, but-"

"No, Emma! Look, fairytales here aren't like the ones where your parents and I come from. But if I've ever seen a story worthy of being int hat book of Henry's, it's yours. Look around you, Emma. I'd give anything to have Peter be back with me again. You have someone who has not only become better for you, but who has brought out the best of you. Don't let that go!" Emma stares blankly at Ruby for a moment, eyes wide.

"Have you been talking to Archie lately?" she asks. Ruby throws her arms up in the air dramatically.

"Fine! I give up! But when you end up becoming the little old lady who lived in the shoe, don't come crying to me!"

Later that night, after Henry has gone to sleep and all of the guests have gone home, Hook is the only person still there. He's sitting on the couch by the Christmas tree, twirling an ornament on his hook. Emma sits next to him, and they sit in a comfortable silence for a while. Christmas music plays faintly in the background, almost like a lullaby.

She's glad things between them have been able to drift into something somewhat resembling friendship. He wouldn't even look at her for a few days after their kiss in his quarters, and talking took a couple of extremely awkward weeks.

"I remember back in Neverland," Hook murmurs, staring at the tree. "We'd stay up until midnight every Christmas Eve and play games. And when it was finally Christmas, we'd all just go for a nice, long race around Neverland."

"And what did you ask to get for Christmas then, Peter?" Emma asks softly. He turns to look at her in surprise. She just gives him a knowing smile. "You may say that I'm an open book," she teases gently, "But you're one too."

"What gave me away, lass?" he asks. She bites her bottom lip, eyes twinkling.

"That look in your eye?" Emma asks, leaning towards him, "I see it in Henry's eyes every time Peter appears on the screen when we watch that movie." She smiles. "That's how you knew I was an orphan. You DID spend a lot of time with the Lost Boys." He chuckles, putting the ornament back on the tree. She then grins devilishly. "Also explains why you can be such a child."

Hook chuckles, and turns to face her. "I got you something," Emma says, blushing a little. "I wasn't going to, but Henry insisted, so I just thought-" Hook rests his hook on her lips, arching an eyebrow. Realizing that she should probably just get on with it, Emma pulls out a small box. He opens it up and pulls out a small round keychain, the one Emma usually wears around her neck.

"I don't want you to keep it," she murmurs, "But I figured you deserved to know. You know the story, hell, after everything that happened I doubt anyone in Storybrooke doesn't know. But you need to know that I think I'm finally starting to move on. Thanks to you." He meets her eyes, his intense and completely serious.

"Emma, if I'd have known, I would've-" he begins, but, losing patience, Emma cuts him off with a quick yet deliberate kiss.

"Shut up," she whispers, "All I want for Christmas is you."

Kissing her again, Hook grins and murmurs against her lips. "It's about bloody-"

"Shut up."