A/N: All I want for Christmas... guys, I'll be honest, I don't expect a laptop or anything. (I know you gave Cassandra Clare one, even though Joss Whedon wrote half her stuff, but no, no laptop.) All I really want is a good, decent beta. I'll take as many as I can get. Especially one that'd be willing to read original work, because I have this thing where I try to get people interested in that, they agree to that, and then they get murdered or something, because I never hear from them again. It's weird, because I do the same sort of thing in my manuscripts that I do in my fics. It's not like I go "now that Batman's off the table, let's discuss the Protocols of the Elders of Zion." So, if you're going to be murdered in the future, please don't inquire, but everyone else, I don't care what your fandoms are, I don't care whether you wear your genitalia on the inside or out, I don't care if you're a dog person or a cat person. If you can use Google Docs, I can use you.
It started with the Christmas ornaments. They were in the trash.
Henry looked for them, and Emma got a hunch they were in the curbside box she had seen on her drive over. She picked them up and brought them inside Regina's place to find they were undamaged. The lights weren't even tangled; Regina was just that anal.
Although not so anal as to have a Christmas tree. As Emma looked for an axe to cut one down—of course, Storybrooke had Christmas trees growing in the wild, and of course, Regina Mills had an axe—Regina happened upon them.
"What do you think you're doing?"
"With this axe?" Emma asked, hoisting it on her shoulder. "Well, I know it's most likely an execution axe, but I think I'll just chop down a tree."
"We have firewood."
"Yeah. This one would be more for tinsels, popcorn balls, candy canes, presents underneath—" Regina looked confused. "A Christmas tree?"
Regina took a moment, as if she'd never heard of one before, then laughed uproariously. "Christmas tree? Don't be ridiculous, Emma, we don't celebrate Christmas."
"Unless Fox News has gotten things spectacularly right, yeah, we do. I was here last Christmas, remember?"
Regina put her hands on her hips, as she did when Emma was being exceptionally stupid. "Yes. That was when the town was under the Curse. Now that the Curse is lifted, our citizenry have returned to their native beliefs."
Emma spread her hands, unintentionally swinging the axe far enough to pull herself off-balance. "Alright, so everyone's Jewish or whatever. That doesn't mean we can't open presents and watch Die Hard like normal people."
"Obviously, Ms. Swan, Die Hard is acceptable viewing on any occasion, but back in the Enchanted Forest, we didn't open presents. We celebrated Saturnalia with a blood orgy."
"Saturn-what?" Emma blinked. "Blood what?"
Regina waved her off. "If your parents didn't explain the traditional Saturnalia blood orgy to you, I certainly won't. Suffice to say, it's quite a good bit of fun."
Emma glanced at the distant Henry, who was hanging up stockings (thrown out with the ornaments). "Somehow 'blood orgy' doesn't sound appropriate for children."
"Of course not. Not all of us want our children to have teen pregnancies." Regina got that faraway look she always had when she zinged Mary-Margaret, wishing the woman was there to take the hit. "That's why on Saturnalia, all children go to bed early."
That part Henry heard. "We have to go to bed early? What about trying to catch Santa?"
"There is no Santa!" Regina called back.
"Regina!" Emma cried.
"There's no… Santa?"
"Yes, Henry, there is a Santa," Emma assured him. "And he's bringing you lots of presents because you've been such a good boy!"
"No, he's not, he's dead."
"Regina, you didn't!"
"I was barely involved!" Regina protested, then mouthed 'Captain Hook.'
Emma reflected that these people had more backstory than Gandalf the fucking Gray.
"You're being funny," she told Regina. "I can tell because you're not funny."
"If I were lying, would I throw out my own Christmas ornaments? I don't need them. All you need to bring to a blood orgy is yourself—and possibly a few items that I'm sure you're well-versed in."
Emma stared her down. "Henry, guard that Christmas stuff with your life. I'm talking to Mary-Margaret. Because if one person has the Christmas spirit to save Christmas in this town, it's Snow effin' White!"
"But… when would we celebrate Saturnalia?" Mary-Margaret asked.
Her apartment, Emma was somewhat traumatized to discover, definitely seemed to be being prepared for—something. Snacks were being prepared, tarps were being laid out, and there definitely seemed to be more condoms around than Emma was used to.
"But, Mary-Margaret… a blood orgy?"
"Oh, it's not as bad as it sounds," David replied, coming over to put an arm around Mary-Margaret's waist. "See, the 'blood' is just wine, fruit punch—any lager is acceptable, too."
"And the orgy?"
"That's just people having sex," Mary-Margaret answered.
"But… you're married!"
Mary-Margaret laughed. "I know that, silly! I'll probably just be having sex with my hubby here." She patted David's broad chest. "And Ruby."
"Unless you want to have sex with Ruby," David said. "In which case, we completely understand—"
"I do not want to have sex with Ruby!" Emma cried, utterly exasperated. "Well, okay, maybe a little…"
"That's the spirit, Emma!"
Emma shook her head. " I can't believe this. I thought you guys were from fairy tales. Aren't you all about—courtly love and chastity?"
"Sweetie, medieval times had a lot more cursing and sex than you think. Don't you watch Game of Thrones?"
"No!"
Mary-Margaret turned suddenly vehement. She grabbed Emma by the scarf. "Don't! Whatever you do, don't! It will ruin your life! It's not television, it's a life-ruiner!"
David drew her back by the shoulders and she burst into tears, burying her face in his chest. "Sorry, she's still not over the Red Wedding."
"And so he spoke, and so he spoke," Mary-Margaret sobbed into David's chest. "That lord of Castamere…"
Emma was backing away. "I think I'll just go before the double penetrations start."
She went to the door and was somewhat perturbed to find Hook there. He'd traded in his usual Rocky Horror Picture Show outfit for a white polo shirt, white shorts, tennis shoes, and a baseball cap (the Pittsburgh Pirates, of course).
"Ah, the lovely Emma Swan. I've already managed to engage your lovely parents' interest in the evening's festivities; care to make it a foursome?"
Emma grabbed his hook and embedded it in the drywall, knowing how hard it was for him to get it loose once he was stuck. Then she left.
Hook dropped his racket to pull at his hook. "Your daughter have something against tennis?"
"Sorry, kid," Emma said over the phone. "Looks like we're on our own for Christmas. We'll stay up late and have a James Bond marathon together."
"Why would we watch James Bond movies on Christmas?" Henry asked, Regina having tucked him into bed but neglected to confiscate his/Dopey's cell phone (like the guy could talk anyway).
"I don't know, it's tradition. Happened every year in prison."
"We're having a prison Christmas?"
"Best I can do, Henry. And, uh, I might be helping Santa deliver your presents."
"Santa's not even coming in person? This is the worst Christmas ever. It used to be all snowball fights and ice-skating and hot cocoa! Now, everyone wants to listen to some stupid organ playing!"
"Well, when you're older, maybe you'll be happy you have an organ… I mean, hey, it's still Christmas even if people don't celebrate it! They're showing A Christmas Story like, fifty times for some reason. And there's Frosty the Snowman outside my—HEY, GET AWAY FROM MY WINDOW, YOU PERVERT, I'M NOT WEARING PANTS!"
"You're giving me a second carrot, lady!" Henry heard in the background.
"I've got a hair-dryer, you round bitch!" Emma replied.
"I'll be back again someday!" Henry heard, the voice receding in the distance.
"So yeah," Emma said into the receiver again, "it's gonna be a great Christmas."
"Don't worry, mom, I'll take care of Christmas for you. You just focus on keeping that blue organ safe."
"Kiddo, don't do anything dumb. I want all your vital organs still inside your body when I get home!"
"Mom, that was, like, an entire hiatus ago."
He could feel her frowning. "Good word use, but don't get cocky with me, kid." She hung up.
Henry hid his phone and looked at the spellbook that Regina had also neglected to confiscate. One of the spells looked like exactly what he needed.
After all, the best way to spread Christmas cheer was singing loud for all to hear.