Chapter Text
Emma was leaving work when she was joined by her coworker, Killian Jones. "Hello, Swan. How are you today?”
“Good, I guess. You?”
“I'm doing well.”
They fell into a slightly awkward silence as they continued to make their way out of the building.
As they walked they heard at least 7 different employees discussing their Thanksgiving plans.
“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” Killian asked.
“Oh, the usual,” Emma told him. “Eating something with turkey in it while watching the parade.”
“By yourself?”
Emma shrugged. “Mary Margaret and David invited me to spend it with them, but I didn't want to intrude on their family gathering. How about you?”
“I'm afraid my plans are much the same as yours, Swan.”
“Really? You don't have any family or friends?” Emma asked.
“Perhaps-” Killian looked nervous. “Perhaps we could celebrate together, since neither of us have anything better to do?”
Emma considered the idea, and she found she liked it better than the alternative. And even if it did suck, there was always next year.
“Yeah, alright,” she said. “Be at my house at nine for the parade.”
Killian had grinned. “Excellent. I'll bring the pie.”
.....oooooOOOOOooooo.....
Emma pushed her cart through Walmart, trying to figure out what she'd need for a Thanksgiving dinner. Why had she agreed to this?
Sure spending Thanksgiving alone kind of sucked, but at least then there was no pressure. Last year her meal had consisted of a turkey pot pie. She'd have to be a little classier this year since she was expecting company.
The worst part? She and Killian weren't even friends. They didn't hate each other, but they weren't close either.
She eventually settled on two microwavable frozen meals that included turkey and mashed potatoes. Two Thanksgiving staples out of the way. What else? He said he'd bring the pie. Stuffing? No one actually liked that. Green bean casserole? Too much work. Biscuits? That she could do. She headed over to the bakery section and tossed a package of rolls into her cart. One Thanksgiving dinner coming right up.
.....oooooOOOOOooooo.....
Killian knocked on Emma's door at 8:56 am. Four minutes before the parade started.
“Welcome to my humble abode,” she said as she answered the door, making a sweeping gesture with her arm to encompass all of her tiny apartment.
“It's a pleasure to be here, Swan.” He offered her a slight bow.
She rolled her eyes. “Come in, the parade's about to start.”
Killian stepped inside. He lifted the grocery bag in his arms. “I brought the pie, as promised. I also picked up some craisins because you're supposed to have cranberries on Thanksgiving. And I brought rum.”
Emma took his offerings and carried them into the kitchen. “Thanks,” she called. “You're clearly more prepared than I am. I didn't even think of drinks. I have water and rum if you want anything.”
“I could do with some water.”
Emma filled a glass and brought it to him, and they sat down to watch the parade in awkward silence.
…..oooooOOOOOooooo.....
Once the parade ended Emma stood up. “Okay, well I guess that means it's time for lunch.” She went into the kitchen and got the two meals from the freezer and put them in the microwave. Killian followed her and began to unpack the bag he'd brought.
He eyed her. “Wow. You really meant it when you said nothing home cooked.”
She glared at him. “Turkey and mashed potatoes. What more could you want for Thanksgiving?”
“My apologies, Love. I was merely jesting.”
She rolled her eyes at his overly formal word choice. “Let's see this pie you brought.”
He lifted it from the bag. “Wow,” Emma said. “Did you make this?” It looked really good.
He grinned at her. “You overestimate my abilities, Swan. It was frozen.”
She grinned back. “My kind of cooking.”
Just then the microwave chimed. Emma turned and pulled out the two meals. “Dinner is served,” she said.
“And what a fine little feast it is.” He walked around the table and pulled Emma's chair out for her. She smiled at him. It had been a long time since anyone had treated her like a lady.
…..oooooOOOOOooooo.....
It didn't take them very long to finish their meal, and then they retired back to the living room, taking the bottle of rum with them. They sat down on the couch and Emma began flipping through the channels looking for something to watch.
“So,” Emma said as she settled on A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving, “How come you're celebrating Thanksgiving alone?”
He tensed a little bit. “My mom died when I was young, and my father abandoned me a year later. I was raised mostly by my brother, but he died about 10 years ago.”
Emma looked at him in shock and sympathy. She could tell this wasn't a subject he liked to talk about. “Killian, I'm so sorry.”
“It's alright, Love. It was a long time ago. What about you? Do you not have any family to call your own?”
Now it was Emma's turn to look uncomfortable. “My parents abandoned me as a baby. I spent 15 years bouncing from family to family before I finally ran away. No family.”
“I'm sorry, Swan,” he said.
“It's fine,” she said. “As you said, it was a long time ago.” She paused for a minute and then asked, “Who's Milah? On the tattoo?” Emma had noticed the tattoo a few months ago, but she'd never asked before.
If Killian was tense before, it was nothing compared to now. He never talked about Milah with anyone. But for some reason he wanted to tell Emma. He began to speak in a strained voice. “Not long after my brother died I met her at a bar. She was older and married. It was stupid.” He took a deep breath and Emma laid her hand on his arm, her gaze filled with compassion and understanding. “We ran away together, but her husband wouldn't let her go. He chased us down and murdered her in front of me.”
“Killian...” Emma began, but trailed off. What could she possibly say to him? She couldn't even imagine anything like that. She took a shaky breath. “When I was seventeen I met a guy and we fell in love. Or at least I thought it was love. He was older, too. This was after I ran away from the system. We stayed together for a few months, running around, committing petty crimes, living in a car or whatever hotel room we could sneak into.” She discreetly wiped at her eyes. “Anyway, he was in trouble. The police were looking for him for a crime he'd committed a few years ago. He'd stolen a case of fancy watches. We were planning to fence them and move to Canada. Instead, he set me up and tipped off the police. I got eleven months, and while I was there I found out I was pregnant.” She looked at him.
“Well,” Killian said, “I think we could both do with a little more of this.” He refilled both of their rum glasses. “What happened to your baby?”
“I gave him up. I definitely wasn't fit to be a mother.” She laughed, although there were still tears in her eyes. “If this isn't the spirit of Thanksgiving...”
Killian looked her in the eyes. “I'm thankful that you're here, Swan. That neither of us have to be alone this year.”
“Well I'll drink to that,” Emma said, clinking her glass against Killian's.