Summary: Emma Swan despises the pink christmas tree currently living in her
apartment. It’s nothing short of an abomination. But when Emma decides
to replace it with a freshly chopped tree of her own, Her bug gets stuck
in a storm, and she’d forced to call the last person she ever wanted to
see again. The man that broke her heart. Also on AO3.
Rating: Mature (there’s smut)
A/N: Imagine signing up for the CSSecretSanta and waiting patiently for a
name to be assigned you, and when it finally come you’re just like crap.
Not because you’ve been assigned a person you don’t care for, but
you’ve been given someone who is just leaps and bounds above the cut in
fiction writing. Someone whose work everyone in the fandom loves an
adores. And then you realize that you have to write a fic for them. Ya,
no pressure there.
So with that said, this is my CSSS gift
for the lovely @alexandralyman. (Surprise!) She asked for angst and I hope I’ve
delivered. There’s a bit of humor tossed in too. I wasn’t able to fit in
forced bed sharing like you’d mention, but there is force cohabitation
and definite bed sharing. I hope you like it Alex, and Merry Christmas!
I
was mostly joking when I told people that this was going to be 10K, but
apparently I have no self-control and it just kept growing and growing.
(P.S. If you’ve never seen Sandra Lee’s Kawanzaa cake, you might want to check it out on youtube before reading this fic!)
Another A/N: I also want to thank @best-left-hook-jones first and foremost for kindly helping me polish this bad boy over. I had this vague idea of Emma hating on MM’s princess themed tree that was inspired by a conversation we had on different types of Christmas trees. There were pink ones, white ones, upside down ones. There are even ones that look like dresses on mannequins. Then after talking to Alex, everything seemed to fall into place. 10K later, Best-left saved this fic from being tossed in the garbage.
I’d also like to thank @optomisticgirl and @distant-rose for helping me brainstorm. I’ve never been to a tree farm or to a tree chopping so I had no clue what I was talking about. Boston isn’t exactly the prime spot for me to have set this story, as there aren’t any actually forests with evergreen trees near by, but if A&E can throw logic out the window, so can I!
Have a Merry Christmas everyone (or whatever holiday you celebrate!)
Word Count: 10K+
Dreaming of a Pink Christmas
Emma lay in bed, waiting until the she heard the roaring of David’s engine fading down the street. As much as she loved her roommate, and even her roommate’s boyfriend, there was only so much of the sickeningly sweet couple she could take. On a normal day, Mary Margaret was someone who Emma felt completely comfortable around, but the holidays brought out the monstrously sappy side in her best friend, and with it an overly motherly quality.
Emma, I have this friend who would be perfect for you.
Emma, I can’t just let you spend the holidays alone.
Emma, there’s somebody out there for you. I just know it!
So when David invited Mary Margaret to come home with him to meet his mother, and Mary Margaret systematically invited Emma to tag along, Emma quickly came up with an excuse to remain in Boston. Family had never really been her thing – not that she’d ever had enough experience with them to really know. Her knowledge base came from watching her friends. The sentimentality of missing them in complete conflict with the reality of being trapped in a house for a week, tense dinners, arguing. None of it was her.
No. Instead she told Mary Margaret that she’d picked up some extra shifts at the stations so that a few of her colleagues could spend time with their families. Technically speaking, she’d offered, but her captain had told her that she had enough man power. Still, Emma had insisted on them leaving her on the oncall list if something came up.
And that’s how Emma Swan found herself hiding out in her room Christmas Eve morning like a coward. Once she was sure that not only were they gone, but also far enough out of town to not pop back in for something forgotten, she forced herself out of bed.
It All Starts With a Dance 