#challenge coins for each office christmas party we have to handle

[thatscreamingrat]

went to the pub for a drink on my first real day off in over a week and watched the girl behind the bar drop the entire cash drawer on the floor in the middle of the rush and then just stare at it at her feet for like a solid two minutes

[searchingwardrobes]

The Christmas Wish: 1/4

Merry Christmas, @snowbellewells​ ! You have become such a sweet friend to me, so I wanted to gift you with something this holiday season. Since we were talking about Hallmark Christmas movies the other day, I thought the perfect gift would be writing you a Captain Swan version of one! I hope you enjoy it and have a wonderful Christmas with your family.

Many thanks to @kmomof4​ for being my beta when I know this week is busy with your family. Thank you so much, my dear friend!

This has four parts and one chapter will be posted each day this week, with the last one posting on Christmas Eve. It is loosely based on a Hallmark movie starring Jessie Schram, funny enough, called The Birthday Wish. This fic is set in 3b, but sticking to canon didn’t work at all with what I wanted to do, so it ended up being canon divergent. I think the only canon part that remains is Zelena. There’s no Rumple, no Neal, no cursed lips, no time travel. Yeah, I know, not much canon left, haha. Let’s just say this is more character driven . . . .

Summary: Emma leaned forward, closed her eyes, and a wish bubbled up unbidden from the depths of her heart. "I wish I could just have a simple, domestic life. Is that even in the cards for me?" Breath left her on an exhale just as the wish floated through her mind, and the candle blew out. The "answer" to her wish had to be some kind of trick, however. After all, it wasn’t as if anything in the vision she received could ever in a million years be real. It was ridiculous. Captain Hook, the father of three driving a minivan? Impossible.

Rated G for Hallmark movie levels of fluff and Christmas feels

Also on Ao3

Tagging the usuals: @teamhook​ @xhookswenchx​ @bethacaciakay​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @welllpthisishappening​ @optomisticgirl​ @hookedonapirate​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @itsfabianadocarmo​ @spartanguard​ @let-it-raines​ @tiganasummertree​ @vvbooklady1256​ @scientificapricot​ @superchocovian​ @sherlockianwhovian​ @ohmakemeahercules​ @hollyethecurious​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @jrob64​ @wellhellotragic​ @winterbythesea​ @winterbaby89​ @lfh1226-linda​ @carpedzem​ @thesschesthair​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @cutieodonoghue​ @justbecauseyoubelievesomething​ @juliakaze​  @thisonesatellite​ @therealstartraveller776​ @thislassishooked​ @profdanglaisstuff​ @killian-whump​

Chapter One: The Vision

“Mom, come on! It’s already started!”

Emma hadn’t seen her son this excited since they left New York. Henry was standing in the open door of their room at Granny’s, shifting with nervous excitement from one foot to the other. Emma was on her hands and knees with her head halfway under the bed. Where the hell had her other boot gotten to? It couldn’t have just disappeared. Then again, this was Storybrooke . . .

“Everything alright, lass?”

The sound of Hook’s voice made Emma jerk backwards and smack her head against the bed frame. She scowled at the pirate who was now standing at Henry’s side as she sat up on her knees rubbing the lump that was rising on her head.

“Where’d you come from?” she muttered as she rose to her feet. A dust bunny tumbled from her messy hair, tickling her nose and making her sneeze.

“Sorry,” Hook apologized with a slight smirk that made her think he wasn’t all that sorry.

“I can’t find my damn boot,” Emma snapped at him, almost as if it were his fault.

“Want me to help you look, love?”

“Mo-om,” Henry whined.

“Actually,” Emma replied, pushing her hair out of her face with one hand so she could look at the pair in her doorway - one on the cusp of adolescence and the other looking far more handsome than he had a right to in those ridiculous pirate clothes. Anyone else would look like they were headed to a tacky Halloween party. “Could you take Henry down to the Christmas carnival?”

“I thought we were going together!” Henry exclaimed.

Mom guilt slammed into her at his crestfallen expression. Between figuring out this new curse and trying to stay one step ahead of this wicked witch (Wicked Witch of the West? Seriously?), Emma knew she had neglected time with Henry. It was so different from what he had been used to in the life they had built in New York, and she hated letting him down. Not to mention that at twelve, Henry wouldn’t be wanting to hang out with her for too much longer, and she was missing it.

“I’ll be right down. It’s gotta be around here somewhere.” She really needed to buy an extra pair of boots, but frugal habits born of so many years on the streets didn’t go away easily.

“I’ll guard him with my life if necessary,” Hook swore to her solemnly.

Henry rolled his eyes. “First off, I’m twelve, not two. Second, it’s a Christmas carnival. What’s going to happen? I get hit in the head with a candy cane?”

Hook just arched a brow at her, and she shook her head ruefully. Little did Henry know. Sometimes his lack of memories stabbed her with even more feelings of guilt. She waved him off.

“I know, I know. Just get down there and teach Killian how to overdose on Christmas sugar.”

“Will do,” he told her joyfully as he shot off towards the stairs, Killian hurrying after him.

Emma collapsed onto the bed for a minute once they were gone. She’d told her mom

that having a Christmas carnival on Main Street was a bad idea with the Wicked Witch still out there. On the other hand, she had yanked Henry out of school, dragged him away from his friends and the life he had known, and brought him to this bizarro town. Now he was having to celebrate Christmas here, too. They didn’t have a tree or the Christmas decorations they had bought together last year. They hadn’t made cookies and hot chocolate for their annual viewing of Home Alone. Of course, technically, it was only annual in memories that weren’t real, but that was beside the point. The point was she was now ruining her son’s Christmas too. Ever since he heard about the Christmas Carnival, he’d set aside his Nintendo DS and his cell phone for the longest span of time since they’d arrived here.

Emma got up and resumed her search for that elusive right boot. She finally found it wedged beside the TV, hidden by the window curtains. She yanked both boots on, then turned to glance at her reflection in the mirror. She frowned at her tangled hair and grabbed a brush. Once her golden hair was glistening and smooth, she grabbed her lipstick and reapplied it. It wasn’t until she was touching up her mascara that she scowled at herself in the mirror.

Who exactly are you primping for, Emma?

She refused to answer her own subconscious as she tossed the mascara angrily onto the vanity. It bounced and slid into the sink, but she just left it there and marched out the door.

The Christmas Carnival was literally on her doorstep, filling the street in both directions from Granny’s patio. A choir of children from the elementary school stood on a stage near the post office belting out Christmas carols, led by someone who looked a lot like Mary Poppins (she probably was Mary Poppins, Emma thought with a chuckle). Leroy and some of the other dwarves had gathered around a booth where you were supposed to toss as many bean bags as you could into the mouth of a giant wooden snowman. Merry Men cheered and laughed as they took turns trying to pop balloons in a dart game. There were plenty of other typical carnival games: ring tosses, coin drops, wheel spinners, and one of those “go fish” games where kids tossed a clothes pin at the end of a string over a blanket and one of the nuns from the convent attached a bag of Christmas candy. There were also merchants with booths selling all sorts of handmade Christmas gifts, and food booths offering everything from hot chocolate to corn dogs to cotton candy.

She found Killian and Henry fairly quickly. They had found David at the strong man game. She chuckled to see her father spitting on his hands and rubbing them together before lifting a mallet and slamming it down. A bell went flying up, ringing loudly and impressively as it almost reached the top of the strong man game. With a smirk, her father offered the mallet to Killian. Emma rolled her eyes but couldn’t look away as Killian took off his coat. He really needed to go without that long coat more often, she liked the figure he cut in those tight leather pants -

“Are you kidding me?”

Emma jumped at the sound of her mother’s voice. She turned to see Mary Margaret shaking her head as she watched the men.

“That is just unfair,” she continued. “I know your father is wary of Hook’s feelings towards you, but to challenge him to that game . . . “

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you know . . . “

Emma crossed her arms over her chest and leveled her mother with a scathing look. “Know what?”

“He, um . . . well, that is, he only . . . “

“Only has one hand?”

“Well yeah.”

Emma arched a brow and gave her mother a smug grin. “I think Killian can handle himself.”

Right on cue, Hook swung the mallet with his good arm, and the bell flew up. It didn’t make it as far as her father’s swing, but it was still damn good. Emma smiled as she watched her father slap Killian on the back.

“Killian is it?” her mother asked pointedly.

Emma turned to take in her mother’s curious stare. She tightened her arms further around herself. “Uh, yeah, that’s his name. It’s the name we use around Henry, so you know . . . “

“Okay,” her mother teased, a smirk of her own teasing her lips. She changed the subject, however, by lifting a plate holding a cupcake into Emma’s line of sight. “Happy Birthday!”

Emma cocked her head. “Birthday?”

Her mother sighed. “I know it was almost two months ago. Yet one more moment I missed. I wanted to make it up to you.”

“It’s okay, really.” Emma took the plate and looked at the cupcake. It was chocolate with white icing and blue sprinkles. “It’s not really Christmas-y. Where did you get it?”

“A cupcakery opened along with the new curse. Felicity’s.”

“Is that her real name?”

“It is.”

Emma snorted loudly. “Cute.”

Mary Margaret grinned. “I know.” She threaded her arm through Emma’s and steered her towards a group of picnic tables set up beneath some fairy lights. Emma let her mother pull her to the table and sat down with the cupcake between them. Mary Margaret pulled something out of her pocket with a proud smile. “Felicity even gave me a candle and some matches!”

“Really?” Emma asked with raised brows as her mother stuck the candle into the cupcake. It was sparkling blue with a star on top.

“Mhm,” her mother said, “I told her it was for you and how I missed your birthday, and she wanted it to be special. The cupcake is special too, she said. It’s her Sugar Plum Fairy cupcake, and she was almost sold out. This was the last one.”

Emma spun the cake around, eyeing it. She had obviously been in town way too long if she was suspicious of an innocuous cupcake. The woman owned a cupcakery, for heaven’s sake! She had to sell the damn things. And what better way to drum up business than to pay extra special attention to Snow White? Emma let out a breath as she told herself to just relax and enjoy the cupcake. The bright pink and glittery decorations may not be her style, but it was chocolate, and you couldn’t go wrong with chocolate in Emma’s opinion.

Her mother lit the candle, her eyes sparkling as she sang “Happy Birthday.” Emma squirmed, never comfortable with such attention, praying no one else heard the song.

“Make a wish!” her mother exclaimed.

Emma bit her bottom lip as she suddenly remembered the last time she had made a wish on a cupcake. She had wished that she didn’t have to be alone on her birthday, and seconds later, Henry had knocked on her door.

So Emma leaned forward, closed her eyes, and a wish bubbled up unbidden from the depths of her heart. I wish I could just have a simple, domestic life. Is that even in the cards for me? Breath left her on an exhale just as the wish floated through her mind, and the candle blew out.

“Hey, where’d you get the cupcake?”

Emma opened her eyes to see Henry standing beside her. Behind him were her dad and Hook. Even as her son eyed her cupcake jealously, he shoved a forkful of funnel cake into his mouth. She chuckled.

“I didn’t buy it at the carnival,” Mary Margaret explained. “I bought it at a bakery specially for your mom.”

“Why?”

Her mother, who had the world’s worst poker face, went slack jawed and stammered as she looked at her daughter. Emma calmly removed the candle, licked the icing off, then started to peel away the wrapper before she answered her son.

“Because I helped her set up her baby registry the other day, and after two hours of agonizing over strollers, high chairs, and onesies, she owed me.”

It was only half a lie. Emma had helped her mom register at Storybrooke’s only baby store. Named, naturally, The Stork’s Nest. And it was also true that the experience had been torturous enough to earn her dozens of cupcakes.

She still wished she didn’t have to lie to her son - even half lies.

*******************************************

When Emma awoke the next morning to blurred surroundings, she wasn’t alarmed at first. It always took her a minute to fully awake and adjust her eyes to the morning light. But when she couldn’t see well enough to even find her phone on the nightstand, worry gripped her. She sat up abruptly in bed, trying to blink the sleep away. She squinted, and still all she could see was a white blur that she assumed was the sun streaming through the window and around it only blurry gray. She groped in the general vicinity of the nightstand, knocking over the lamp. She swore loudly as it crashed to the floor.

“Mom!” Henry shouted as he burst through the door.

Emma turned towards his voice, assuming that the moving brown blur in front of her was her son. “I’m . . . fine,” she lied, not wanting to alarm him. “Just go downstairs and ask Granny’s help to go get your gr - I mean, David.”

“Mom, what’s wrong?”

She pressed her lips together and took a sharp breath in through her nose. “Just go, Henry, okay?”

She heard him grumble something under his breath about how he wasn’t a little kid anymore, but she heard the door to their rooms open and close anyway. While he was gone, she rubbed at her eyes, then opened them again, but still she couldn't’ see a damn thing.

“Swan?” Hook’s alarmed voice cried out as he burst into the room.

“Killian?” She squinted at the big black blur in her doorway that she assumed was the man in question.

“I know you said to get David,” came Henry’s voice as a smaller brown blur joined the larger black one, “but I ran into Killian in the hall, and I know him better, so . . . “

“It’s okay, Henry, just give me and Killian a minute.”

“I want to know what’s going on!”

“I know, kid,” she said, her voice softening, “and I’ll explain in just a minute, I promise.”

Henry made no reply, at least none she could tell. She heard the door to her bedroom shut and sensed Hook drawing closer.

“What is it, love?”

“I can’t see,” she confessed softly, reaching out a hand for him.

“What?”

She could clearly hear the strained concern in his voice. Her hand found his, and she used him as leverage to stand up from the bed. He was closer than she had anticipated, and she awkwardly bumped against his chest.

“I mean, except for a light blur over there, and a dark blur I assume is you, I. Can’t. See.”

Emma thought ironically of those black frames with the clear lenses she had worn for

merely fashion reasons back when she was a teenager. They seemed incredibly stupid now.

“How long has this been going on?” Killian must have bent his head closer to hers because his breath was hot against her cheek.

“How long? I just woke up this way!”

“This must be some kind of sorcery, love. You don’t just lose your sight overnight.”

Do you? Emma wondered. She vaguely remembered some movie she had seen once where a woman woke up suddenly blind. It was probably a Lifetime movie, though, and she wouldn’t call those medically accurate by any stretch of the imagination. Nevertheless, she gripped Hooks arms tighter and shook her head.

“Maybe it’s magic, maybe not. Either way, get my phone, call my Dad, and ask him to drive me to the doctor, okay?”

“That will waste too much time. Maybe I could -”

“You can’t drive, and I don't’ think this warrants a 911 call.”

Did Storybrooke even have 911? She should look into that.

“As you wish,” was all Killian said, his voice solemn. The words took her back to a hot jungle, his lips on hers, and his hand tangled in her hair. She swallowed thickly as she pulled her hands away from him. He reached around her, and then she heard the familiar beeping sounds as he opened up her phone. She was glad she had given him that cell phone crash course the first time he’d watched Henry for her.

“And Killian?”

“Yes?”

“Can you explain this to Henry for me? Without freaking him out?”

“Of course.”

Then he brushed a kiss across her brow and swept from the room, leaving her flustered. He’d done it so swiftly, without hesitation, as if it were something he did everytime he told her goodbye. Maybe it had been unintentional?

Needless to say, it had been a weird morning.

*********************************************

“Is your sight coming back?” her father asked, unable to hide the fear in his voice as he drove through the streets of Storybrooke.

Emma squinted out the window of her dad’s truck. “That really bright blue to my right is the ocean I’m guessing?”

“That’s a no, then.”

A strained silence fell between them, but what could Emma say? She hated to worry him, but there was no denying this was really, really bad.

“You sure we shouldn’t go straight to Regina?”

“Not yet,” Emma told him, “let’s rule out a physical cause first.”

“I don’t know if that’s any better than a spell.”

“Believe me,” she muttered, “I know.”

“Your mom Googled it already -”

“That’s never good.”

“- and people with green eyes are at higher risk for eye cancer and macular degeneration.”

“Not helping, Dad.”

“Sorry,” he muttered, reaching for her hand and squeezing it. “It is good to hear you call me Dad again, though.”

Emma’s eyes blurred even further with her sudden tears. “Sorry I can only seem to say it in crisis situations.”

“Hey, all in good time. When you’re ready.”

He released her hand, and Emma resisted the urge to grab it again. She was so thankful to have him with her. How many times had she fantasized about parents who would take care of her when she was sick? Though she would have preferred something less dramatic than sudden blindness. A cold and some chicken soup, maybe.

“I know I’m not the best judge of this at the moment, but aren’t we going the wrong way?”

“I’m not taking you to Storybrooke General. An optometrist arrived with this second curse, and I think I trust whoever it is with my daughter’s eyes more than I trust a possibly drunk Dr. Frankenstein.”

Emma chuckled at the wry sound of her father’s voice. “I bet mom wishes an obstetrician came with this curse too.”

“You have no idea.”

Her father slowed the truck and made a right turn. He assisted her out of the vehicle, and she slipped her arm through his as he guided her to the door of the clinic. She felt him freeze suddenly beside her once the door swung closed behind them.

“You!” he exclaimed in a suspicious voice. “I know you! What the hell is going on? I thought you were a baker!”

“No,” another voice calmly replied, “that’s my sister Felicity. I’m Avery, the receptionist for Dr. Liv Lachesis, the optometrist. Which I should also explain -”

“Welcome,” a third voice spoke up, “how can I help you today?”

“Triplets?!” David exclaimed.

One of the women - Emma couldn’t tell which one - chuckled lightly. “Yes, triplets. It always throws people.”

“Well,” her father sighed, “I have a twin, so I can relate. We’re here for a bit of an emergency, though. My daughter woke up this morning unable to see.”

“That is an emergency. Emma, why don’t you come with me?”

“How do you know my name?” Emma asked suspiciously as the doctor gently touched her elbow.

“Everyone knows the Savior.”

Dr. Lachesis’ words were gentle and soothing as she guided Emma into the exam room and helped her sit.

“Now just lean back Emma, and try to keep your eyes open. I’m going to put these drops in. It may sting a little, but it shouldn’t hurt. Okay?”

Emma nodded her head. Even though the optometrist had a soothing bedside manner, she still felt her stomach knotting with nerves. Dr. Lachesis gently held Emma’s right eye open, squirted two drops of liquid in, then repeated the procedure with her left eye. Emma blinked, hoping to see more clearly. She panicked when instead of blurry splotches of light and dark, before her eyes was nothing but inky darkness.

“It’s going to be okay,” the doctor soothed, as if reading her thoughts. “Lean forward and look into my phoropter.”

Emma had no idea what that was, but she leaned forward anyway. The doctor guided her face forward, and Emma felt cool metal pressed against the skin around her eyes.

“What do you see?”

“Nothing.”

Emma heard a click while the doctor adjusted the machine’s settings.

“Look again.”

Dr. Lachesis’ voice was almost hypnotic, and Emma blinked once again. The black nothing before her faded, and she could once again see fuzzy splotches of color. The fuzzy splotches then cleared, and objects took shape before her. She was outside, dressed in a sweater, boots, and all the normal winter outerwear. Snow crunched beneath her feet and the air was crisp and cold against her cheeks. She blinked again, and tilting her head up saw that she was standing in front of a beautiful blue Victorian home with a welcoming porch, and a turret with windows nestled on one side. It reminded Emma of a doll house she had admired in a store window one Christmas as a child.

Emma then realized there were voices and laughter behind her, and she turned to see a man standing in front of the sliding door of a black minivan. He was bending over, buckling a toddler into a car seat. He straightened and turned towards her, and Emma froze in shock.

“Look, Graham, Mama’s got your shoes.”

Emma squeezed her eyes shut, wondering even more what kind of crazy contraption a phoropter was to make her see what she was seeing right now, but when she opened her eyes the scene hadn’t changed. Captain Hook was buckling a toddler into a minivan. What the hell?

His eyes sparkled with mirth and he was smiling in a way she had yet to see. He gestured with his hook towards her.

“Swan? The shoes?”

She looked down to see that she did indeed have a tiny pair of brown boots dangling from the tips of her fingers. As bizarre as the whole scenario was, she shuffled forward and handed Hook the shoes. He narrowed his eyes and studied her for a beat before turning back to the child before him. He chatted amiably with the child, making him giggle as he slipped the shoes on his feet and tied them deftly with one hand. Emma stared at the little boy of about three, cataloguing his features. He had the same shade of eyes Emma had - a cool, pale green. He had a little dimple in his plump chin, much like her and Snow. His hair was thick and black, curling over ears that pointed in an almost elf-like way. Emma felt her jaw drop as she looked from the child to Killian and back again.

“Mama?” Emma startled when a little girl popped up from behind the little boy. “Mama did Daddy really almost burn down Granny’s when he got you a Christmas tree?”

The little girl looked so much like Emma, it was downright eerie. Except she had bright blue eyes. Eyes that looked really familiar . . . but it couldn’t be!

Killian chuckled as he scratched behind his ear. “Well, in my defense, I was new to the entire concept of electricity.”

Wait a second - did this girl just refer to them - she and Hook - as Mama and Daddy? Then Emma took in Killian for the first time. He was wearing dark skinny jeans and a motorcycle jacket instead of his pirate garb, yet that wasn’t what really surprised her. What surprised her was the charcoal wool beanie on his head. Captain Hook wearing a beanie? Surely this was some sort of hallucination. Emma then glanced down at herself.

“What the hell am I wearing?”

“Wowds, Mama!” the toddler - Graham? - laughed, kicking his little feet.

“Mama, you have to wear the tree shirt to go get the tree,” the little girl added. “It’s ta-dition.”

“That’s tradition, Hope, now buckle up so we can get going,” Killian instructed.

Suddenly, a golden blur rushed past Emma, and she let out a surprised shout as a golden retriever jumped into the van.

“Sorry,” Killian apologized, “the kids begged to bring Nana along. I didn’t think it was a problem since the tree farm is outside.” He paused and tilted his head as he studied her. “Are you okay, love? I can drive if you want. I know your morning sickness still bothers you some.”

Then the strangest thing of all occurred when Killian Jones - Captain Hook himself, put a hand to her belly then brushed a kiss to her lips. It was the kind of quick, familiar kiss a couple shares when they’ve been together a long time. Emma looked down where his hand rested, and sure enough, her belly was swollen beneath her sweater. Her hideous red sweater covered in a garish Christmas tree with pom pom balls for ornaments. She swayed on her feet.

“Emma!” Killian cried in alarm, his arms going tighter around her.

Everything went blurry, again, then dark. Emma blinked her eyes, and suddenly she was back in the optometrist office looking through a metal contraption that must have been the phoropter. She jerked away and leapt up, her gaze darting wildly about the room. Well, at least she could fully see again.

“What kind of crap was that?” she yelled at Dr. Lachesis. “What kind of spell did you put on me?”

“It was my sister who cast the spell. I merely completed it.

“Completion is my area of expertise, sis,” Avery spoke up from the doorway.

“Okay,” the doctor sighed with a roll of her eyes, “I showed you the middle. It’s what you wished for, after all.”

“Emma,” David cried out as he pushed his way into the room, “are you okay? What did they do?”

Emma shook her head, unsure of how to even describe what had happened. Not to mention her father’s reaction if she told him she’d just seen herself knocked up with her third child with Hook of all people.

“Nothing, Dad,” she muttered, “let’s just get out of here.”

After all, it wasn’t as if anything in that vision could ever in a million years be real. It was ridiculous. Captain Hook the father of three driving a minivan? Impossible.