Happy Holidays, jungle_ride!
Title: Put the Lights On the Tree
Recipient: jungle_ride
Author: Anon
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Emma Swan/Neal Cassidy, background Snow White/Prince Charming, hinted at Grace/Henry Mills
Word Count: 3750
Warnings: intentional timeline vagueness, elementary school dares, too much fluff
Summary: Henry wants to go pick out a Christmas tree and Emma and Neal just want some time alone.
Author's Notes: Title from the song of the same name by Sufjan Stevens. This is non-canon compliant after the events of 3.8 and AU in regards to what happened after that episode.
The only time Emma ever woke up earlier then Henry did was when Neal’s mouth was on her neck, and his hand on her thigh.
She blinks awake, conscious of his warmth against his side and feels his lips trace the shell of her ear.
“Morning,” Neal murmurs, one of his arms snaking around her waist.
“What time is it?” Emma lets him pull her close.
“Half past six.” He smiles against her skin. “It snowed today.”
“God.” This made Emma sit up, clutching the sheet to her chest. “I should go into work early. People will probably need help, I’ll need to contact the dwarves about snow shoveling…”
Neal sits up too and presses a kiss to the base of her neck, right over the vertebrae. “Don’t you think that can wait?” He asks softly, but there’s no pressure in the question, just honesty - something she can count on him now for. Something she knew she could count on him for when she was kneeling in front of his cage in the Echo Cave, spilling out her heart and telling him that she wished he was dead.
Now, wrapped in the quilt with him slowly kissing his way down her spine, she doesn’t wish that anymore.
“Yeah,” it comes out soft, her breath hitching, and she lays back.
Neal doesn’t hurry. He kisses the side her neck, then her shoulder, one hand toying idly with a breast, the other drawing lazy circles on her stomach. Emma shifts uncomfortably, heat growing in her belly, and rolls her hips up, hoping Neal will get the message.
Neal grins and moves to kiss her, nipping at her bottom lip. She kisses back, hungry, one hand buried in his hair, the other grasping his shoulder.
“Impatient,” he chides, voice lower then normal and it makes her shiver.
“You’ve made me wait,” Emma reminds him and Neal grins and moves his hand to her cunt, rubbing small circles over her clit.
Two can play that game. Emma reaches between them and wraps her hand over Neal’s cock, pulling back his foreskin and thumbing at the head until he moans quietly. Here, in their room, wrapped in Snow’s old quilt with snow coming down outside, it’s like no time has passed, like he never left her, like she’s still eighteen and in love for the first time.
“Tease,” Neal grits out, even as he sinks one finger into her and crooks it up, pressing at her g-spot.
“Asshole,” Emma snaps back, jerking him slowly until he swears softly leans back on his heels, forcing her to let go of his cock and sinking another finger into her as he does so, thumb still pressed on her clit.
“You always have to be the best,” Neal huffs, eyes dark as he fucks her with his fingers, and Emma props herself up on her elbows to glare at him, and then he curls both fingers up and jabs at her and she moans, shaking.
Neal fucks her on his fingers and she rolls her hips and tries to keep quiet and then he leans down and licks a broad stripe from her cunt to her clit and she comes, clenching around his fingers and swearing so fiercely that Neal laughs even as he fucks her through the aftershocks.
“Come on,” Emma snarls, pulling at his shoulders and Neal grins and crawls to her, cock heavy between his legs - and then they hear something like a stampede on the stairs.
“Mom!” Henry is yelling at he thunders down the stairs. “Mom, it’s snowing!”
“Why,” Neal snarls as he yanks the blankets up over them, “is he awake?”
“He’s your son,” Emma reminds him and lets him pull her into his arms, his cock pressing against the back of her thighs just as Henry knocks on their door.
“Come in,” Emma calls, and feels Neal press his face against her shoulder, as if pretending to still be asleep.
“Why are you still in bed?” Henry demands, throwing open the door and coming to the foot of the bed, scowling. “It’s snowing. First snow of the season! Don’t you know what this means?”
“Some people like to sleep, kid,” Neal grumbles, looking up from Emma’s shoulder. “And no. What does it mean?”
“It means,” Henry says, as self important as an eleven year old can be, “that today we go get our Christmas tree!”
Emma clutches the blankets to her chest with one hand and scrubs the other over her eyes. “Sorry?” She asks finally. “Why?”
“It’s tradition,” Henry says impatiently. “Grumpy told me a few days ago that the dwarves always chop down the Christmas trees on the first snow of December.”
“Oh,” Emma looks down, wonders if this is an enchanted forest thing she missed out on, or just a regular thing, thinks not for the first time that being a mom should come with a guide book and a list of traditions.
“I’d forgotten,” Neal says after a minute, and Emma glances at him. There’s something half delighted, half painful on his face. “Papa and I used to do that, before…”
“And now that we’re all together again, we can all do it,” Henry is the sort of excited he gets over ‘operation cobra’ or ‘true love’s kiss’. “Can’t we, mom?”
Fuck, she can’t say no to that face. Thank god Regina has agreed that Henry will spend Christmas with them as long as Regina can attend.
“School first,” is what Emma says, hoping Henry doesn’t notice her confusion. School is always first. Emma really likes school, likes she can count on it like that. “School, and homework, and dinner, and then we’ll get a Christmas tree.”
“Promise?” Henry asks, already heading for the door, either to wake Charming and Snow up or to get ready for school, Emma wasn’t sure.
“Promise,” Emma smiles, and watches Henry pull the door shut behind him.
Neal kisses her neck again, still hungry, and she laughs.
“Where were we?” He murmurs and Emma shakes her head.
“It’s seven,” she points out. “I have to get up.”
Neal pouts at her even as she peels back the blankets and gets out of bed, swearing under her breath because the floor is really fucking cold when it snows.
“Can I see you later?” he asks as she fastens her bra, gathering her messy hair in one hand and throwing it over her shoulder. “Like, at the office?”
Emma raises an eyebrow at him. “Will you behave?” she asks, stepping into her panties and then into her jeans.
Neal just leers at her. “I make no promises.”
Emma shakes her head at him and pulls on a camisole, then sweater, then black shearling leather jacket and sits down to pull on her socks and boots. “You’re a menace,” she teases, yanking on her boot zipper. “I should arrest you.”
“Only if I get to keep the handcuffs,” Neal jokes and Emma snorts at him, standing and shoving bobby pins into her mouth as she tries to force her hair into a bun.
“In your wildest dreams,” she retorts, words slightly muffled by her bobby pins, and then finishes pinning up her hair.
“Hey,” Neal says, as she’s halfway out the door of their bedroom. “Take my scarf. It’s cold outside.”
“Baby it’s cold outside,” Emma calls back at him, but she does snag his favorite grey scarf and wrap it twice around her neck before wandering off to see when Henry has got to.
*
Charming - Emma still can’t bring herself to say or think Dad when she looks at him - comes into the office around half past eight and immediately pulls Emma into a hug.
“Hi,” she says into his denim-covered shoulder, arms wrapping around him automatically. “What’s up?”
He’s smiling, blue eyes crinkled and Emma looks back at him and it’s like looking into a mirror, except she has Snow’s eyes, but his hair, and his coloring, and both of their determination.
“Happy first snow fall!” Charming exclaims, moving away from her and picking up to two mugs. She watches him do something complicated with the coffee machine and knows she won’t have to remind him not to add cream to hers, knows that he knows she likes her coffee black.
“Henry seemed really excited about it too,” Emma says after a minute, perching on the edge of her desk. “Said something about a Christmas tree tradition?”
“Yeah!” Charming says, animated as even, and smiles into his coffee mug. “First snow fall of December, we’d cut down the Yule tree. It’s tradition.” He pauses. “I used to do it with my mom, back before I was a Prince.”
“What was she like?” Emma asks before she can stop herself because - her grandmother.
Charming looks pensive - not sad, just thoughtful. “Kind. Brave. Very determined. The ring that Snow has - that’s hers.”
“I know,” Emma says before she can stop herself. “I read about, in Henry’s book. I just…”
“Want to hear about it from someone who was actually there?’ Charming is smiling. “She was like you, Emma. Fiercely protective of everyone she loved. More then willing to own up to her mistakes. A wonderful mother.”
Emma doesn’t have anything to say to that, and Charming knows - he always knows, knows when to not push, as opposed to Snow, who wants to talk about everything. Clapping her on the shoulder, Charming sets his mug down and begins to pull on his jacket. “I’m going on patrol,” he explains. “Shouldn’t be back ‘til two, at least. You okay with holding down the fort?”
Emma sighs and nods. “I have paperwork,” she explains - how they have paperwork in a town full of fairy tale characters is beyond her - and waves at him as he leaves.
Emma does paperwork until twelve, when her stomach starts grumbling, and she’s about to pull on her leather jacket when Neal walks through the door, holding a carry out bag from Granny’s and wearing a shit eating grin.
He locks the door behind him.
“What are you doing?” Emma asks, watching as Neal sets down the carry out bag and starts unwinding his scarf, still wearing that shit eating grin. “It’s against the rules to lock the door while we’re open.”
“What are you going to do about it, Sheriff, arrest me?” Neal asks, a repeat of their earlier conversation and then he’s kissing her, one hand on the back of her neck, the other gripping her hip.
Emma kisses him back before she thinks about it, then shoves him away.
“I’m working!” she hisses and Neal just grins at her.
“Yeah, David told me - doing paperwork. David also told me he wouldn’t be back until two.” Neal takes a step forward. “Don’t you wanna take a break, Em?”
She narrows her eyes at him, trying not to smile. “You’re a terrible influence, Neal.”
His grin gets wider.
She kisses him, pulling him in by the throat of his jacket and his hands are everywhere, from her neck to her ass and then he’s tugging on the hem of her sweater and she obeys, lifting her arms up so he can yank it off. He reclaims her mouth as soon as her sweater is off and then she’s unbuttoning his coat and pushing it off of his shoulders impatiently, pausing to shudder as he kisses the shell of her ear, as he kisses her neck, his shoulder, his teeth scraping her skin.
“Off,” she orders, tugging at his henley and Neal obeys, pulling it off in that way only guys do. Emma tugs her camisole off and then Neal is unfastening her bra and pulling it down her shoulders, letting it drop from his hands and backing her up against her desk. She runs her hands down his chest, down his abs, and sucks a mark onto his neck, gasping as he tweaks her nipples, his head thrown back and a little gasp escaping him.
“Was this your plan all along?” Emma gasps as he kneads one breast, her hands scrabbling on his belt buckle and the button on his jeans. “Seduce me at work?”
“Where else -” Neal is panting, and helps Emma shove his jeans down and then they get to work on hers, Emma bending down to unzip her boots, “- are we going to be free from interruptions?”
They’re both down to their socks and underwear and Emma snaps the waistband of Neal’s boxer-briefs. He grins, kissing her again, and then begins to pull bobby pins out of her hair, gently tugs the hair tie out until Emma’s hair is a golden curtain around her shoulders.
“Beautiful,” he breathes, crowding her against her desk until she’s sitting on it, pulls her forward so she can wrap her legs around his waist. His hands are back on her breasts and Emma moans and writhes against him, feels heat grow between her legs and kisses him insistently.
He slips a hand beneath her lace panties, fingers stroking the soft hair there and when Emma bites his shoulder impatiently, Neal huffs a laugh and traces tiny circles over her clit.
Emma drags his boxer briefs halfway down his thighs and gets her hand wrapped around his cock, jerking him off slowly. He’s hard in her hand, precome at the tip and Emma uses her other hand to cup his balls and then press at his perineum, making him gasp into her throat.
“Who’s the tease now?” Neal mutters, sinking one and then two fingers into her cunt - he knows she likes it rough - and pressing insistently at her g-spot until Emma starts to shake again.
“Still you,” Emma snaps, and leans back. “Do you have a condom?”
“Nope,” Neal says, eyes wide in panic and she laughs and twists, reaching across her desk to her left drawer and yanking it open. There are condoms there and she grabs one, then catches Neal watching her.
“It’s not like we have a planned parenthood in Storybrooke,” Emma snaps, watching him pull his fingers out of her cunt and drag her panties down her legs. “I always have condoms on hand, in case anyone needs one.”
“Such a good sheriff,” Neal teases, taking the condom from her and tearing it open. Emma watches him tug his foreskin back and roll the condom on, licking her lips, and then Neal is lining himself up and pushing into her in one slow, smooth movement.
She wraps her legs around his waist against, wraps her arms around his neck and gasps as he fucks into her. “Alright?” Neal asks and Emma nods, because she loves the slow burn, the stretch of him, the way he makes her feel so full. And he knows this, doesn’t stop to let her get accommodated but keeps going, fucking her on her desk in the sheriff’s office of all places with a smile on his face.
“Play with yourself,” Neal growls in her ear and Emma forces a hand between them and starts to press on her clit, trying to use the same rhythm Neal is as he fucks her. It’s inelegant but effective and soon she’s clenching around him, even as he leans forward and kisses her messily, hips snapping against her, his chest hair tickling her nipples.
“C’mon, Em,” Neal huffs. “Let go. No one’s here but me, no one’s gonna see you,” and that, too, he understands - her fear of vulnerability, of abandonment, of letting herself enjoy something because every time she does, someone takes that joy away from her. But here, wrapped in his arms, Emma trusts him, thinks nothing matters but this moment, even if he’s making the lamp on her desk shake with every thrust, even if they barely got out of Neverland alive.
“Come for me, love,” Neal whispers and Emma does, pressing down on her clit and feeling Neal fuck her and she lets go, body arching, lights bursting behind her eyes. Neal fucks her through it, keeps fucking her, makes the wood of her desk creak and when Emma comes back to earth and opens her eyes, he’s watching her, eyes tender.
“I love you,” Emma whispers before she can stop herself, always unguarded after an orgasm and Neal grins and kisses her, then buries his face in her neck and whines, long and high, as he comes.
After, they help each other into their clothes and Emma opens a window so the office doesn’t smell like sex, and unlocks the door.
“I brought you food,” Neal reminds her, tugging her down into his lap. “A burger from Granny’s.”
“I might keep you,” Emma says, flushing, and knows she’s not fooling him, not one bit.
“I love you, Emma,” is all he says and she shivers, thinks she can believe it now, thinks maybe he’ll never leave again.
*
When Emma comes home from work, Henry is trying to do long division under Snow’s watchful eyes.
Neal is already there, chopping up carrots. He glances up at her and smiles; Emma flushes.
“Mom!” Henry exclaims, pushing away from the counter. “Mom, can we go get our tree now?”
“Homework?” Emma asks and Henry slumps, but Snow is smiling. Looking at her is like looking into a mirror, too - Emma has her eyes, and her mouth.
“This isn’t due for two more days,” Snow explains. “Besides, dinner won’t be ready for another hour, at least.”
“Lucky Snow has a soft spot for you,” Emma teases. “Alright, go put on your winter things.”
Henry charges upstairs and Emma walks over to Snow.
“Is it really due in two days?”
“Of course,” Snow says, looking at Emma in confusion. “I would never bend the rules for him.”
“No ulterior motives?” Emma asks, arching an eyebrow, and Snow grins.
“Try to keep out of the house for an hour?” she asks, conspiratorially, and Emma grins back. “Your father and I want some alone time.”
“Ew,” Emma says immediately. “Don’t ever say it like that again. I don’t want to know.”
“You asked!” Snow protests, but she’s laughing.
Henry charges down the stairs again, this time wearing a coat, a scarf, boots, and mittens.
“You coming?” Emma asks Neal, who nods and pulls on his own coat and scarf.
“Such fashion forward family,” Snow teases as they walk out the door. “Have fun!”
Henry is practically skipping, which Emma tells him not to do because of the ice, and barely manages to wait patiently as Emma buys them all hot chocolate and roasted chestnuts.
“Come on,” he wheedles, clutching his hot chocolate. “We have to get a good tree!”
“This has got to be your influence,” Emma says to Neal, who wraps an arm around her. They watch Henry run ahead, barely remembering to look both ways before crossing the street to the Christmas tree lot. “I was never this annoying as a kid.”
“And you think I was?”
“You were a lost boy,” Emma reminds him, tries to keep her voice light. Neal squeezes her shoulders as they cross the street. He doesn’t respond. The shadow of Neverland lingers between them for a moment, and then the smell of evergreen hits them so fiercely that Emma forgets everything. “Are these trees magical, too?”
“Maybe,” Neal shrugs. “I’ve never found trees that smell the way the trees in the Enchanted Forest do.” He frowns, peering at something. “Who’s the guy in the top hat?”
“What?” Emma demands, turning, and there’s Jefferson, hands in his pockets, a scarf wrapped around his neck. “What is he doing here?”
But she can see Grace, hands on her hips, blonde hair peeking out of a knitted cap and talking to Henry next to an enormous Christmas tree.
“Who is that?” Neal hisses as Emma drags him forward.
“Jefferson. The Mad Hatter.” She explains, and then Jefferson looks over and sees them, and smiles at her - a sane smile, his madness locked away by Grace’s presence.
“Miss Swan,” he calls jovially, teeth bright in the darkness. “And - it’s Neal, right?”
“Yeah,” Neal’s voice is guarded. “You are?”
“Jefferson. And this is my daughter, Grace.”
“She’s in Henry’s class at school,” Emma explains, watching Henry and Grace. They’re definitely arguing. Jefferson has noticed too, Emma sees, glancing at him, and she, he, and Neal all move towards the tree, all frowning, all in knitwear and clutching cups of hot chocolate.
It’s funny, Emma thinks absently, how much the holidays unite people. For all that she hates the holidays, hates the idea of family - or does she still? She has a family, now.
“You can have the tree,” Grace is saying, arms crossed. “If you kiss me.”
“Ew!” Henry wrinkles his nose. “Kissing is gross.”
Grace looks pleased with herself. “Guess the tree is mine, then.”
“Nope!” Henry says and marches up to her. Grace looks surprised, and then unfolds her arms, and for a moment they just stand like that - Henry a little taller then her, Grace’s face tilted up, knitted caps on both their heads and snow still falling.
Henry kisses her - quick, chaste, a brush of lips on lips and Emma feels her heart stutter, because Henry is only eleven and this is just a stupid dare-kiss, they’ve all had them - but it’s Henry. Her Henry. He’s growing up.
Grace and Henry spring apart and Grace is grinning, while Henry is wiping his mouth.
“Gross!” Henry sighs, but he’s grinning and Emma glances at Neal and rolls her eyes.
“Grace has had a crush on him for a while,” Jefferson confides to them, voice low so Grace and Henry can’t hear. Then, as if to remind Grace and Henry they have an audience, he raises his voice. “Grace, are you being nice?”
“I always am, Daddy!” She calls back, beaming, and runs over to him; Jefferson kneels down and opens his arms, pulling her close to him.
Emma has to turn away - it’s too much, to see the raw joy on his face every time he hugs Grace - and sees Henry waiting for her and Neal, triumph all over his face.
“I won the tree,” he tells them, smug just like his father. “It’s ours, now.”
“Merry Christmas,” Emma says, arching an eyebrow. She means it sarcastically but Henry just beams at her and she feels herself soften, lets Neal take her hand in one of his and Henry’s in the other.
“Yes,” Neal says softly, smiling at her, his smile the same as Henry’s. “Merry Christmas, Em.”
Recipient: jungle_ride
Author: Anon
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Emma Swan/Neal Cassidy, background Snow White/Prince Charming, hinted at Grace/Henry Mills
Word Count: 3750
Warnings: intentional timeline vagueness, elementary school dares, too much fluff
Summary: Henry wants to go pick out a Christmas tree and Emma and Neal just want some time alone.
Author's Notes: Title from the song of the same name by Sufjan Stevens. This is non-canon compliant after the events of 3.8 and AU in regards to what happened after that episode.
The only time Emma ever woke up earlier then Henry did was when Neal’s mouth was on her neck, and his hand on her thigh.
She blinks awake, conscious of his warmth against his side and feels his lips trace the shell of her ear.
“Morning,” Neal murmurs, one of his arms snaking around her waist.
“What time is it?” Emma lets him pull her close.
“Half past six.” He smiles against her skin. “It snowed today.”
“God.” This made Emma sit up, clutching the sheet to her chest. “I should go into work early. People will probably need help, I’ll need to contact the dwarves about snow shoveling…”
Neal sits up too and presses a kiss to the base of her neck, right over the vertebrae. “Don’t you think that can wait?” He asks softly, but there’s no pressure in the question, just honesty - something she can count on him now for. Something she knew she could count on him for when she was kneeling in front of his cage in the Echo Cave, spilling out her heart and telling him that she wished he was dead.
Now, wrapped in the quilt with him slowly kissing his way down her spine, she doesn’t wish that anymore.
“Yeah,” it comes out soft, her breath hitching, and she lays back.
Neal doesn’t hurry. He kisses the side her neck, then her shoulder, one hand toying idly with a breast, the other drawing lazy circles on her stomach. Emma shifts uncomfortably, heat growing in her belly, and rolls her hips up, hoping Neal will get the message.
Neal grins and moves to kiss her, nipping at her bottom lip. She kisses back, hungry, one hand buried in his hair, the other grasping his shoulder.
“Impatient,” he chides, voice lower then normal and it makes her shiver.
“You’ve made me wait,” Emma reminds him and Neal grins and moves his hand to her cunt, rubbing small circles over her clit.
Two can play that game. Emma reaches between them and wraps her hand over Neal’s cock, pulling back his foreskin and thumbing at the head until he moans quietly. Here, in their room, wrapped in Snow’s old quilt with snow coming down outside, it’s like no time has passed, like he never left her, like she’s still eighteen and in love for the first time.
“Tease,” Neal grits out, even as he sinks one finger into her and crooks it up, pressing at her g-spot.
“Asshole,” Emma snaps back, jerking him slowly until he swears softly leans back on his heels, forcing her to let go of his cock and sinking another finger into her as he does so, thumb still pressed on her clit.
“You always have to be the best,” Neal huffs, eyes dark as he fucks her with his fingers, and Emma props herself up on her elbows to glare at him, and then he curls both fingers up and jabs at her and she moans, shaking.
Neal fucks her on his fingers and she rolls her hips and tries to keep quiet and then he leans down and licks a broad stripe from her cunt to her clit and she comes, clenching around his fingers and swearing so fiercely that Neal laughs even as he fucks her through the aftershocks.
“Come on,” Emma snarls, pulling at his shoulders and Neal grins and crawls to her, cock heavy between his legs - and then they hear something like a stampede on the stairs.
“Mom!” Henry is yelling at he thunders down the stairs. “Mom, it’s snowing!”
“Why,” Neal snarls as he yanks the blankets up over them, “is he awake?”
“He’s your son,” Emma reminds him and lets him pull her into his arms, his cock pressing against the back of her thighs just as Henry knocks on their door.
“Come in,” Emma calls, and feels Neal press his face against her shoulder, as if pretending to still be asleep.
“Why are you still in bed?” Henry demands, throwing open the door and coming to the foot of the bed, scowling. “It’s snowing. First snow of the season! Don’t you know what this means?”
“Some people like to sleep, kid,” Neal grumbles, looking up from Emma’s shoulder. “And no. What does it mean?”
“It means,” Henry says, as self important as an eleven year old can be, “that today we go get our Christmas tree!”
Emma clutches the blankets to her chest with one hand and scrubs the other over her eyes. “Sorry?” She asks finally. “Why?”
“It’s tradition,” Henry says impatiently. “Grumpy told me a few days ago that the dwarves always chop down the Christmas trees on the first snow of December.”
“Oh,” Emma looks down, wonders if this is an enchanted forest thing she missed out on, or just a regular thing, thinks not for the first time that being a mom should come with a guide book and a list of traditions.
“I’d forgotten,” Neal says after a minute, and Emma glances at him. There’s something half delighted, half painful on his face. “Papa and I used to do that, before…”
“And now that we’re all together again, we can all do it,” Henry is the sort of excited he gets over ‘operation cobra’ or ‘true love’s kiss’. “Can’t we, mom?”
Fuck, she can’t say no to that face. Thank god Regina has agreed that Henry will spend Christmas with them as long as Regina can attend.
“School first,” is what Emma says, hoping Henry doesn’t notice her confusion. School is always first. Emma really likes school, likes she can count on it like that. “School, and homework, and dinner, and then we’ll get a Christmas tree.”
“Promise?” Henry asks, already heading for the door, either to wake Charming and Snow up or to get ready for school, Emma wasn’t sure.
“Promise,” Emma smiles, and watches Henry pull the door shut behind him.
Neal kisses her neck again, still hungry, and she laughs.
“Where were we?” He murmurs and Emma shakes her head.
“It’s seven,” she points out. “I have to get up.”
Neal pouts at her even as she peels back the blankets and gets out of bed, swearing under her breath because the floor is really fucking cold when it snows.
“Can I see you later?” he asks as she fastens her bra, gathering her messy hair in one hand and throwing it over her shoulder. “Like, at the office?”
Emma raises an eyebrow at him. “Will you behave?” she asks, stepping into her panties and then into her jeans.
Neal just leers at her. “I make no promises.”
Emma shakes her head at him and pulls on a camisole, then sweater, then black shearling leather jacket and sits down to pull on her socks and boots. “You’re a menace,” she teases, yanking on her boot zipper. “I should arrest you.”
“Only if I get to keep the handcuffs,” Neal jokes and Emma snorts at him, standing and shoving bobby pins into her mouth as she tries to force her hair into a bun.
“In your wildest dreams,” she retorts, words slightly muffled by her bobby pins, and then finishes pinning up her hair.
“Hey,” Neal says, as she’s halfway out the door of their bedroom. “Take my scarf. It’s cold outside.”
“Baby it’s cold outside,” Emma calls back at him, but she does snag his favorite grey scarf and wrap it twice around her neck before wandering off to see when Henry has got to.
*
Charming - Emma still can’t bring herself to say or think Dad when she looks at him - comes into the office around half past eight and immediately pulls Emma into a hug.
“Hi,” she says into his denim-covered shoulder, arms wrapping around him automatically. “What’s up?”
He’s smiling, blue eyes crinkled and Emma looks back at him and it’s like looking into a mirror, except she has Snow’s eyes, but his hair, and his coloring, and both of their determination.
“Happy first snow fall!” Charming exclaims, moving away from her and picking up to two mugs. She watches him do something complicated with the coffee machine and knows she won’t have to remind him not to add cream to hers, knows that he knows she likes her coffee black.
“Henry seemed really excited about it too,” Emma says after a minute, perching on the edge of her desk. “Said something about a Christmas tree tradition?”
“Yeah!” Charming says, animated as even, and smiles into his coffee mug. “First snow fall of December, we’d cut down the Yule tree. It’s tradition.” He pauses. “I used to do it with my mom, back before I was a Prince.”
“What was she like?” Emma asks before she can stop herself because - her grandmother.
Charming looks pensive - not sad, just thoughtful. “Kind. Brave. Very determined. The ring that Snow has - that’s hers.”
“I know,” Emma says before she can stop herself. “I read about, in Henry’s book. I just…”
“Want to hear about it from someone who was actually there?’ Charming is smiling. “She was like you, Emma. Fiercely protective of everyone she loved. More then willing to own up to her mistakes. A wonderful mother.”
Emma doesn’t have anything to say to that, and Charming knows - he always knows, knows when to not push, as opposed to Snow, who wants to talk about everything. Clapping her on the shoulder, Charming sets his mug down and begins to pull on his jacket. “I’m going on patrol,” he explains. “Shouldn’t be back ‘til two, at least. You okay with holding down the fort?”
Emma sighs and nods. “I have paperwork,” she explains - how they have paperwork in a town full of fairy tale characters is beyond her - and waves at him as he leaves.
Emma does paperwork until twelve, when her stomach starts grumbling, and she’s about to pull on her leather jacket when Neal walks through the door, holding a carry out bag from Granny’s and wearing a shit eating grin.
He locks the door behind him.
“What are you doing?” Emma asks, watching as Neal sets down the carry out bag and starts unwinding his scarf, still wearing that shit eating grin. “It’s against the rules to lock the door while we’re open.”
“What are you going to do about it, Sheriff, arrest me?” Neal asks, a repeat of their earlier conversation and then he’s kissing her, one hand on the back of her neck, the other gripping her hip.
Emma kisses him back before she thinks about it, then shoves him away.
“I’m working!” she hisses and Neal just grins at her.
“Yeah, David told me - doing paperwork. David also told me he wouldn’t be back until two.” Neal takes a step forward. “Don’t you wanna take a break, Em?”
She narrows her eyes at him, trying not to smile. “You’re a terrible influence, Neal.”
His grin gets wider.
She kisses him, pulling him in by the throat of his jacket and his hands are everywhere, from her neck to her ass and then he’s tugging on the hem of her sweater and she obeys, lifting her arms up so he can yank it off. He reclaims her mouth as soon as her sweater is off and then she’s unbuttoning his coat and pushing it off of his shoulders impatiently, pausing to shudder as he kisses the shell of her ear, as he kisses her neck, his shoulder, his teeth scraping her skin.
“Off,” she orders, tugging at his henley and Neal obeys, pulling it off in that way only guys do. Emma tugs her camisole off and then Neal is unfastening her bra and pulling it down her shoulders, letting it drop from his hands and backing her up against her desk. She runs her hands down his chest, down his abs, and sucks a mark onto his neck, gasping as he tweaks her nipples, his head thrown back and a little gasp escaping him.
“Was this your plan all along?” Emma gasps as he kneads one breast, her hands scrabbling on his belt buckle and the button on his jeans. “Seduce me at work?”
“Where else -” Neal is panting, and helps Emma shove his jeans down and then they get to work on hers, Emma bending down to unzip her boots, “- are we going to be free from interruptions?”
They’re both down to their socks and underwear and Emma snaps the waistband of Neal’s boxer-briefs. He grins, kissing her again, and then begins to pull bobby pins out of her hair, gently tugs the hair tie out until Emma’s hair is a golden curtain around her shoulders.
“Beautiful,” he breathes, crowding her against her desk until she’s sitting on it, pulls her forward so she can wrap her legs around his waist. His hands are back on her breasts and Emma moans and writhes against him, feels heat grow between her legs and kisses him insistently.
He slips a hand beneath her lace panties, fingers stroking the soft hair there and when Emma bites his shoulder impatiently, Neal huffs a laugh and traces tiny circles over her clit.
Emma drags his boxer briefs halfway down his thighs and gets her hand wrapped around his cock, jerking him off slowly. He’s hard in her hand, precome at the tip and Emma uses her other hand to cup his balls and then press at his perineum, making him gasp into her throat.
“Who’s the tease now?” Neal mutters, sinking one and then two fingers into her cunt - he knows she likes it rough - and pressing insistently at her g-spot until Emma starts to shake again.
“Still you,” Emma snaps, and leans back. “Do you have a condom?”
“Nope,” Neal says, eyes wide in panic and she laughs and twists, reaching across her desk to her left drawer and yanking it open. There are condoms there and she grabs one, then catches Neal watching her.
“It’s not like we have a planned parenthood in Storybrooke,” Emma snaps, watching him pull his fingers out of her cunt and drag her panties down her legs. “I always have condoms on hand, in case anyone needs one.”
“Such a good sheriff,” Neal teases, taking the condom from her and tearing it open. Emma watches him tug his foreskin back and roll the condom on, licking her lips, and then Neal is lining himself up and pushing into her in one slow, smooth movement.
She wraps her legs around his waist against, wraps her arms around his neck and gasps as he fucks into her. “Alright?” Neal asks and Emma nods, because she loves the slow burn, the stretch of him, the way he makes her feel so full. And he knows this, doesn’t stop to let her get accommodated but keeps going, fucking her on her desk in the sheriff’s office of all places with a smile on his face.
“Play with yourself,” Neal growls in her ear and Emma forces a hand between them and starts to press on her clit, trying to use the same rhythm Neal is as he fucks her. It’s inelegant but effective and soon she’s clenching around him, even as he leans forward and kisses her messily, hips snapping against her, his chest hair tickling her nipples.
“C’mon, Em,” Neal huffs. “Let go. No one’s here but me, no one’s gonna see you,” and that, too, he understands - her fear of vulnerability, of abandonment, of letting herself enjoy something because every time she does, someone takes that joy away from her. But here, wrapped in his arms, Emma trusts him, thinks nothing matters but this moment, even if he’s making the lamp on her desk shake with every thrust, even if they barely got out of Neverland alive.
“Come for me, love,” Neal whispers and Emma does, pressing down on her clit and feeling Neal fuck her and she lets go, body arching, lights bursting behind her eyes. Neal fucks her through it, keeps fucking her, makes the wood of her desk creak and when Emma comes back to earth and opens her eyes, he’s watching her, eyes tender.
“I love you,” Emma whispers before she can stop herself, always unguarded after an orgasm and Neal grins and kisses her, then buries his face in her neck and whines, long and high, as he comes.
After, they help each other into their clothes and Emma opens a window so the office doesn’t smell like sex, and unlocks the door.
“I brought you food,” Neal reminds her, tugging her down into his lap. “A burger from Granny’s.”
“I might keep you,” Emma says, flushing, and knows she’s not fooling him, not one bit.
“I love you, Emma,” is all he says and she shivers, thinks she can believe it now, thinks maybe he’ll never leave again.
*
When Emma comes home from work, Henry is trying to do long division under Snow’s watchful eyes.
Neal is already there, chopping up carrots. He glances up at her and smiles; Emma flushes.
“Mom!” Henry exclaims, pushing away from the counter. “Mom, can we go get our tree now?”
“Homework?” Emma asks and Henry slumps, but Snow is smiling. Looking at her is like looking into a mirror, too - Emma has her eyes, and her mouth.
“This isn’t due for two more days,” Snow explains. “Besides, dinner won’t be ready for another hour, at least.”
“Lucky Snow has a soft spot for you,” Emma teases. “Alright, go put on your winter things.”
Henry charges upstairs and Emma walks over to Snow.
“Is it really due in two days?”
“Of course,” Snow says, looking at Emma in confusion. “I would never bend the rules for him.”
“No ulterior motives?” Emma asks, arching an eyebrow, and Snow grins.
“Try to keep out of the house for an hour?” she asks, conspiratorially, and Emma grins back. “Your father and I want some alone time.”
“Ew,” Emma says immediately. “Don’t ever say it like that again. I don’t want to know.”
“You asked!” Snow protests, but she’s laughing.
Henry charges down the stairs again, this time wearing a coat, a scarf, boots, and mittens.
“You coming?” Emma asks Neal, who nods and pulls on his own coat and scarf.
“Such fashion forward family,” Snow teases as they walk out the door. “Have fun!”
Henry is practically skipping, which Emma tells him not to do because of the ice, and barely manages to wait patiently as Emma buys them all hot chocolate and roasted chestnuts.
“Come on,” he wheedles, clutching his hot chocolate. “We have to get a good tree!”
“This has got to be your influence,” Emma says to Neal, who wraps an arm around her. They watch Henry run ahead, barely remembering to look both ways before crossing the street to the Christmas tree lot. “I was never this annoying as a kid.”
“And you think I was?”
“You were a lost boy,” Emma reminds him, tries to keep her voice light. Neal squeezes her shoulders as they cross the street. He doesn’t respond. The shadow of Neverland lingers between them for a moment, and then the smell of evergreen hits them so fiercely that Emma forgets everything. “Are these trees magical, too?”
“Maybe,” Neal shrugs. “I’ve never found trees that smell the way the trees in the Enchanted Forest do.” He frowns, peering at something. “Who’s the guy in the top hat?”
“What?” Emma demands, turning, and there’s Jefferson, hands in his pockets, a scarf wrapped around his neck. “What is he doing here?”
But she can see Grace, hands on her hips, blonde hair peeking out of a knitted cap and talking to Henry next to an enormous Christmas tree.
“Who is that?” Neal hisses as Emma drags him forward.
“Jefferson. The Mad Hatter.” She explains, and then Jefferson looks over and sees them, and smiles at her - a sane smile, his madness locked away by Grace’s presence.
“Miss Swan,” he calls jovially, teeth bright in the darkness. “And - it’s Neal, right?”
“Yeah,” Neal’s voice is guarded. “You are?”
“Jefferson. And this is my daughter, Grace.”
“She’s in Henry’s class at school,” Emma explains, watching Henry and Grace. They’re definitely arguing. Jefferson has noticed too, Emma sees, glancing at him, and she, he, and Neal all move towards the tree, all frowning, all in knitwear and clutching cups of hot chocolate.
It’s funny, Emma thinks absently, how much the holidays unite people. For all that she hates the holidays, hates the idea of family - or does she still? She has a family, now.
“You can have the tree,” Grace is saying, arms crossed. “If you kiss me.”
“Ew!” Henry wrinkles his nose. “Kissing is gross.”
Grace looks pleased with herself. “Guess the tree is mine, then.”
“Nope!” Henry says and marches up to her. Grace looks surprised, and then unfolds her arms, and for a moment they just stand like that - Henry a little taller then her, Grace’s face tilted up, knitted caps on both their heads and snow still falling.
Henry kisses her - quick, chaste, a brush of lips on lips and Emma feels her heart stutter, because Henry is only eleven and this is just a stupid dare-kiss, they’ve all had them - but it’s Henry. Her Henry. He’s growing up.
Grace and Henry spring apart and Grace is grinning, while Henry is wiping his mouth.
“Gross!” Henry sighs, but he’s grinning and Emma glances at Neal and rolls her eyes.
“Grace has had a crush on him for a while,” Jefferson confides to them, voice low so Grace and Henry can’t hear. Then, as if to remind Grace and Henry they have an audience, he raises his voice. “Grace, are you being nice?”
“I always am, Daddy!” She calls back, beaming, and runs over to him; Jefferson kneels down and opens his arms, pulling her close to him.
Emma has to turn away - it’s too much, to see the raw joy on his face every time he hugs Grace - and sees Henry waiting for her and Neal, triumph all over his face.
“I won the tree,” he tells them, smug just like his father. “It’s ours, now.”
“Merry Christmas,” Emma says, arching an eyebrow. She means it sarcastically but Henry just beams at her and she feels herself soften, lets Neal take her hand in one of his and Henry’s in the other.
“Yes,” Neal says softly, smiling at her, his smile the same as Henry’s. “Merry Christmas, Em.”