Work Text:
December 1935
Emma doesn’t know why she buys it, but when she sees the small snowflake ornament hanging off the countertop display at Goldman’s Drugstore on Christmas Eve, she can’t help it. Its white crystals shimmer in the light and she smiles and adds the five cent ornament to her small pile of goods. It’s a frivolous buy, but it’s Christmas time and it would look absolutely lovely on their tree.
When she shows him that night as they sit by the radio to listen to The Jack Benny Program Killian is beside himself with excitement. “Will you look at that!” he exclaims and gives her a big kiss on the cheek. She giggles and pushes him away.
“You’re not mad?”
“Mad! Mad? Swan, this is swell. Just swell. Look at it,” he hangs the snowflake on their small tree and leans back to admire it. Their Christmas tree isn’t really a tree; more like a couple branches Killian bought from the owner at the tree lot tied together by twine, but it was theirs and with a couple painted lightbulbs they found in the trash and a tin foiled star on top, it really did look like a miniature Christmas tree. The snowflake stands out against the red and green bulbs, like fresh fallen snow against the dirt and grime of city buildings, and for two orphans who never got the chance to celebrate Christmas, it’s one of the loveliest things they’ve ever seen.
Killian kisses her again, and Emma’s glad she bought it.
“A real decoration,” he sighs, their foreheads touching. She caresses his cheek and bops her nose with his, squealing in surprise when he pulls her to her feet and twirls her around their cramped apartment before pulling her back to him, hands on her waist and lower back.
“There’s no music,” she protests when they begin to dance, the soft voices of Jack Benny and Mary Livingston bickering about some date detail gone wrong in the background.
“Don’t need it,” he hums.
It doesn’t take long for her to fall into step with him and she lets him glide her around the room. Everything slows down and it’s just the two of them. She rests her head on his shoulder and closes her eyes. The gentle sway of his body lulls her active mind and she smiles into his shoulder, so happy for the first time in a long time. Step step turn. Step step turn. It is like something from the movies, this moment.
“Who knew an ornament brought out the romantic in you,” Emma teases as he twirls her around again. Their radio show’s ended and he leans back and turns it off.
“What can I say,” he teases lightly, nipping behind her ear until she giggles and swats his face away. “Christmas time does this to me.”
“Merry Christmas, Killian.”
“Merry Christmas, Emma.”
The following year he surprises her with a matching snowflake and a question.