Once Upon a Time 1. Chapter 1: The Lost Boys

**_Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or Once Upon A Time - the trolls Edward Kitsis and Adam Horowitz do. If I did, I'd make them canon faster than lighting._**

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Light starting to peek through the curtains, Killian groaned and curled in the bed. It was too early to analyze why his head felt like someone had decided to use it as a piñata and hit it repeatedly. Or why his eyelids felt like they were welded to his face. Or why everything _ached_.

Hm.

Well, that one wasn't too difficult to guess, really. He had gotten royally pissed again the night before.

Obviously.

Sitting up against the - wait, where was the pillow? - he finally opened bloodshot eyes. Blinking repeatedly, he coughed and tried to moisten his completely dry lips. This was the downside of a well-known partying routine, he pondered.

Considering he was rotten rich, attractive and succesfull, what else was a guy to do? As such, he was no stranger to the heavy headed feeling of a still-fresh hangover.

While trying to decide if getting up was the best course of action - staying in bed seemed like the most plausible option, the hammering in his head making him wince in pain every now and then - his phone suddenly beeped, alerting him of a new text. Stretching his arm and noting as an afterthought the little stamp on his hand reading 'Wonderland', one of the fancy clubs he liked to frequent now and then, he picked up the device.

August.

Killian rolled his eyes. Surprise.

_Please tell me you didn't end up in a gutter again. I'm in no mood._

Snickering to himself and ready to come up with some good old irish comedy, he froze. August wasn't the only one who had tried to contact him. Not in a long shot. He had several texts, calls, and even a voice message from Jefferson.

For fuck's sake, even Gold had called.

He got up, suddenly worried something terrible had happened. He scratched his head while dialing August, seeing as he was the last one who had tried to get a hold of him. Soft beeping in the back, Killian proceeded to poke through his drawers looking for a pill to easy his headache. Entering the kitchen, he finally found a couple of aspirins lying in the counter. He was filling a glass of water when his friend finally picked up.

"You'd better have an explanation"

Killian smirked. "Don't worry, she meant anything to me – you're always the first in my heart"

He heard him chuckle on the other line. "I don't even wanna hear it. You know what I mean."

"Actually no. What the hell is going on? Did someone set on fire the studio? Someone tried to hit on Belle again and Gold is blaming me?"

Killian wasn't sure how he knew it, but the sigh that left his mate's lips was one of those you could actually translate into words. Sure, the usual one read 'You're an idiot and I don't know how I actually put up with you'. But this one was one that had him a bit concerned. It was one of those. One that said 'You're screwed. This was important'.

"Killian, you didn't show up to the interview."

Oh. Fuck.

He dropped his head on the counter and groaned. Oh God. Gold was so going to cut off his balls this time. How had he forgotten? They had been warning him about it for weeks.

"You still there?"

He sighed. "Yeah, still here."

"You'd better show your sorry ass here asap. We're all waiting for you."

He tried humor. "Please promise me you'll have an intervention banner with you when I get there?"

"I wouldn't put it past Jefferson – he's gone completely mad. You'll have to deal with him. In fact, you'll have to deal with everybody."

"See you there, mate."

Dropping the phone beside the untouched glass of water, Killian rubbed his face and an humorless chuckle left his lips. Of course Jefferson would be mad. He couldn't blame him – he had royally fucked up. Again.

He'd have to talk to all of them. His band. His manager. His best friends. His freaking family.

While he picked up a clean shirt and a pair of jeans, his eyes settled on one of that month's magazines, where his band's logo was splayed in the cover under some stupid line he had spat in one of those interviews: The Lost Boys. Some would say that they were flavor of the month material, but Mr. Gold had made sure that was not the case: they'd fought hard to get where they were, and if one thing was true about Gold, it was that he liked to get hold of his power. Alas, he ensured they were not one of those fleeting rock groups who ended up splitting up after a couple of years of skyrocketing fame and faces haunting every teenage girl on the planet. That was not his plan. And he made sure it went exactly how he had designed it would.

He had first met the man when his friend Jefferson told him he was interested in him. They both played every now and then at some seedy pubs - 'a gig is a gig', as his mate would always say when he'd scrunch up his nose at the questionable sanitary conditions of the places they'd sometimes go – and maybe a couple of better-known clubs if they were lucky. Killian wasn't too eager to see him, truth be told – but he trusted Jefferson, and who could say this lad wouldn't be the opportunity they had always dreamt of? He had grown up picturing himself in big stages, rocking away his soul to screaming audiences knowing by heart his lyrics. He had moved from Ireland to LA to fulfill that dream, knocking from one door to another trying to get a recording contract with any record label available. Who would have guessed there were thousands of other aspiring artists out there?

He should have known he'd have to go to the deal's man himself: Mr. Gold.

Whatever he may look like in his crisp suit and piercing eyes, the lad was a real shark, a fucking predator with a cane. He could see the potential in everything and everyone, and worked it for his advantage in any way he saw fit. What he saw in Killian when he first met him, he'd never know – though he'd give his left hand to find out. They had a few meetings and auditions, he met the rest of the bandmates, they discussed different approaches and possibilities of how his music and image could go, and the final proposal was made. The Lost Boys were born.

Killian hadn't been too sure about the whole band thing: he had always found his connection with music as something deeply personal, too far intimate to share it with anyone. Gold had made him see how the band would benefit him – and all of them of course – and how they all agreed: they were not a boy band. They were no Backstreet Boys. They didn't dance, they didn't all sing – he was the lead, they were his bandmates, though they were not his bitches. They were his other half. His better half, now that he care to admit it.

Also, as Gold cruelly pointed out – five pretty boy faces wouldn't hurt with the female fanbase.

As he made his way to the studio, where all their 'serious stuff conversations' took place, he wondered what courses of action they'd take from there - even if they'd chance the possibility of kicking him out of the band. He gulped. He had been fucking around too much. Those first years had been the best of his life: they were hard, of course it was no bed of roses - they had fought with nails and teeth to reach the comforting place they were today. Endless nights of writing, ongoing fights between them, a couple of scares here and there with voice trouble, and the crippling anxiety of believing they were never going to make it.

The thought almost made him laugh now.

The Lost Boys were meant to rise. He knew it now. They'd been called from "unstoppable", to "full of hope", and even some hilarious nonsense Philip had found online where each one of them in the band supposedly represented fairytale characters. That one had been epic. He still found himself grinning like an idiot remembering the laughs it had entailed. Ah, the girls... the sweet fangirls. What would they do without them?

Wether they were charming princes or not, Killian wouldn't have any other knights in battle than Philip, August, Jefferson and Victor. They'd braved anything thrown their way: angry reporters, paps, cat fights in clubs, media bashing – everything you could possibly face in the business. They were the Lost Boys, the orphans who had found each other and wanted to act like kids and go on adventures until the end of time.

And what better way to never grow up than having a band?

Leaving his car beside August's signature bike – seriously, he could afford the newest Hurley in the market and he still rode that piece of crap, what was the guy thinking? - and made his way into the building, blinking his eyes furiously as the midday sun hit his face. He saw Belle, Gold's wife, sitting on her spot roaming around a ton of papers, maniacally looking for something. He neared her stealthily from behind as to not startle her and put his hands on her eyes, effectively blinding her. "Friend or foe?" he whispered faking a ridiculous accent.

"Killian Jones, if you so much as try to humor me after what happened this morning I will lock you down in the elevator for a week" she declared, taking off her hair the cute glasses she wore when she was reading – as in, all the time. Damn, the woman always carried around a book or two in her purse. Killian always liked to joke about how she was the easiest person to give gifts in the whole planet: any kind of printed document, about literally anything, and she was putty in your hands.

He kissed her cheek and sighed. "That bad, huh?"

"I'm afraid it is. Killian, what were you thinking? You knew this one was really important, we've been telling you about it for months! I cannot assure you if they'll give you another interview, I had to work my ass off for this guy to agree – you know not everybody buys your charm, and it was a favor from a friend of work just for YOU of all people, you don't even wanna know how Rump is..."

Well, that didn't help matters. Belle was one of the most respected music journalists out there and always tried to put a good word for them whenever she met any other colleagues and big shots in the industry. And she didn't do it just for his husband's sake – she was deeply fond of all of them. She liked to act as their adopted mother, hugging them every time they ran into each other, bringing them take-away the long days of recording, remembering each and one of their birthdays and draping blankets over sleeping forms in the studio couch.

Shit, now he really felt like a complete asshole.

"Hey, Bells. Hey. I know. I feel like crap. I really do. I don't know what I was thinking, I swear – I forgot it was today."

"Yeah, sure you didn't. I bet you got so drunk last night you didn't even remember your name." She said, looking up at his face. She put her hands on her face and got up, pushing him along the way and leading him to the room where the rest of the Inquisition would surely be waiting for him with a couple of torches and some ritual to voodoo him with.

"Come on. Time to face the music" she whispered as she opened the door.

"When don't I?" he murmured, taking the final step. He saw Gold talking in hushed whispers on the phone pacing the side of the room. That was no good. Philip was sitting in the couch beside August, quietly playing a random tune on his guitar. In the middle of the room sat Jefferson, playing cards on his own – he always carried a pack of cards, said the magic tricks kept the ladies entertained (who did the guy want to kid anyway, he hadn't gotten laid since his wife had passed away years ago). Killian did know in fact that he learned them for Grace's sake. What he didn't know was how to make his mate understand his little girl would enjoy anything he did. There was no denying the kid adored him. And she was the apple of his eye in return.

Victor was smoking in the corner, aimlessly making idle forms with the smoke leaving his lips. Uh oh. It had to be bad if he was smoking. He only delved into his 'guilty pleasure', as he liked to call it, when he was upset or really nervous about something. He was betting on the first option.

August was the first one to notice him. He mock saluted him and opened his arms. "If it isn't our very own prodigal son", he quipped.

He rolled his eyes. "Where's my intervention banner again?"

"You are such an asshole. You don't need an intervention. You need a new brain. And a new liver, now that we're at it, I'm sure."

"My liver is fine, thank you for your concern. And why would I need a new brain anyway?"

"To learn how to properly read a fucking calendar, maybe", Jefferson added from his seat, not even bothering to look at him.

Ouch.

"Enough." Killian internally winced, noting the cold tone Gold had used. His manager approached the table and motioning to all of them to sit around it. He was in trouble alright. "Jones, sit down. We need to talk."

"And here is my intervention. I knew it was bound to happen."

Philip made an exasperated noise. "Killian, for the love of God, do you ever shut up?"

"Ah, but if I did shut up, we wouldn't have this band thing, now would we?"

"Jones. Sit. Now."

They all gathered around and looked at Gold, waiting for the unleash that was sure to come. He rubbed his temples as if they hurt, and finally set his eyes on Killian. "Where in hell were you this morning, and I hope you have a better excuse than 'a crocodile ate my alarm clock'. You've used that one too many times, Jones, and I'm in no kidding mood. You fucked up for real today."

Exhaling a deep breath, he raised his head and looked at his manager in the eyes. "I know. I'm sorry. I don't know how I could forget about it. It won't happen again."

"Damn right it won't happen again, or we'll all be in the street by the end of the year." Gold growled between his teeth.

"I already told you I'm sorry – wait, what? What does this interview have to do with anything?" His head snapped up at warp speed, not sure if he had heard correctly. Damn, was the thing so bloody important it'd cost them their future? He couldn't see how. It was not like they couldn't keep writing their music and selling copies like bagels.

Gold left his seat and walked to the corner, where he had his briefcase. He brought it with him to the table, not opening it until he reached his place again. He took out a couple of magazines and his laptop. "You haven't been keeping up these last months, have you, Jones? I don't know what's going on with you lately, but this is getting out of hand. I mean, what - " he lost what the old man was saying when he spotted some of the pictures and headlines in the cover. For fuck's sake, was that him? Where had those been taken?

Killian was not new to drunk encounters with the paps, but dear God, these were absolutely dreadful. One of the headlines made him cringe in his seat - "Killian Jones lost his pixie dust?", followed by a photo of his slumped form in a club, drink in hand and sweaty forehead creased. He closed his eyes. This was not good. Not at all.

He lifted his gaze and saw his friends staring at him, looks going from concerned to pissed. August clapped a hand on his shoulder and picked up the magazine he had been browsing while Gold kept bantering in the back, going on and on about all the kind of crap the media had been spitting about them after Killian's "rough patch" had stricken those few months ago. He left his face drop in his hands. He didn't want to go there.

He didn't want to think about that time.

Thankfully, Philip, bless his pure soul, interrupted Gold mid rant. "Gold, I don't think we're going anywhere repeating all of this. Killian does need a good earful for this but it's not gonna really help just sit around and blame him for everything. We all know we're screwed if this goes on. The thing is – we should be debating what to do from here. Right?"

Silence fell over the room. Victor spoke for the first time since Killian had gotten in there. "I agree. But first we should ask Jones here for the last time to actually compromise and not fuck it up again."

All eyes on him again, he gulped and nodded. While most of them seemed appeased by the gesture, Jefferson looked at him with hooded eyes. "Or maybe we should find out what the hell has been haunting him these days, pulling him into this freaking nightmare he has dragged us into."

Killian debated between praising his mate for his beautiful prose or punching him in the face. He didn't need this. Not today of all days. "Shut it, Jeff, or I swear I'll beat you into a pulp and not even Grace will recognize his papa's face."

"Kids..." Gold clapped his hands, as if he were a kindergarden teacher asking for attention. "...stop it. Philip is right. Jones, your mistake, our doom. Got it? So we need to fix this, and soon, or not even the best record you can ever come up with will save us. You understand how fans can see this, right? How the media can manipulate anything and everything you do and turn it into something we cannot handle? It's like a monster, feeding off your lives and selling them to the world. It may not be fair, but it's what we got. Now: damage control."

"We need to be in good graces with the media again – show that Jones here isn't in some self destruction mission or something alike", he threw a pointed look in his direction, as if daring him to contradict him. He didn't. "So. If my poor wife actually can reschedule that damned interview or find any other poor soul ready to face off you five bastards, you'll all have to do it, of course, ready to charm the pants off anybody who crosses your way."

"Well, I don't think we'll have a problem with that," Victor muttered under his breath with a little smirk. That was more like him. Dark humor.

"Not so fast, dearies. Damage control means getting measures fast. Seeing as we've lost a bit of our touch these past months, we need to act now. So, in order to show how recovered our charming frontman is, we are all attending this lovely gala we've been invited. Now, listen: I don't want any surprises. I don't want fights, drunk behavior of any kind, slurred words or raised voices, do you hear me? I'll skin each one of you alive if something goes wrong." Gold held a finger threateningly at them

Jefferson looked up indignantly. "Woah woah – why are you bullying all of us? It is Killian you should be worried about!"

"Yeah mate, 'cause you are not known for getting into fights whenever you have a few drinks, right?" Killian smirked at his friend, earning him a glare.

"So where and when is the lovely occasion taking place?" August looked tired about the thing already. Killian knew he wasn't that fond of parties and attention as he was, though he looked like he enjoyed them when he actually went. He was more of the stay-at-home-and-work-with-his-dad-type, even if you would never believe it whenever he had his drumsticks with him rocking out any of their songs.

"Tomorrow night, the Savoy Hotel. 8 PM. No excuses. See you there looking sharp and ready to rise up, or so God help me we're in trouble."

The old man took his cane and his briefcase and finally left the room without glancing back at them, knowing they were all too stunned to even try to complain about anything. They all breathed out with relief when his footsteps became a faint noise in the distance, and chuckled a bit at their antics.

Philip clapped Killian on the back. "So... you never got to tell us what you really did last night."

"Or who." Victor's eyebrow rose and smirked at him. He let out a laugh.

"Ladies, you know I don't kiss and tell. Let a fella have his secrets."

They all rolled his eyes, as they always did. But this was how they were. How they liked to be around each other. They didn't have to put an act for anybody in here.

"You won't fuck up tomorrow, will you?" August's eyes pierced his for a moment.

Killian considered it. He knew things had to change. He wouldn't wallow in misery after the incident – he couldn't. He had ruined their reputation enough because of it. He had let his own life mess up with their professional one – and had compromised it, which he couldn't ignore anymore. He wouldn't let it go further away from this. Even though he didn't know how to move on from it.

Yet.

Though his mates didn't have to know about that.

"I won't."

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_**Hey guys! Here is the first chapter of this little insane thing I came up after that glorious OUAT AU gifset grazed my screen on tumblr a couple of weeks ago. It begged to be written - though with some changes, af you've probably seen ;) **_

_**Anyway, hope you enjoy it as much as I am writing it. It's my very first fic so I'm quite anxious about posting it *crosses fingers I don't get tomatoes thrown at my face* **_

_**On another note, this was entirely written playing Coldplay's complete discography. **_


	2. Chapter 2: Emma

_********__Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or Once Upon A Time - the trolls Edward Kitsis and Adam Horowitz do. If I did, I'd make them canon faster than lighting._

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Gingerly picking up the alarm clock from her bedside table, Emma tried to read the green numbers on the minuscule screen. 7:56 AM. Great. She still had time. She could sleep off those four minutes until the damned thing broke out into the song that woke her up every day. She hated that song. She hated it with a passion. Maybe she should change it. Maybe she should make it play that Madonna song – was it "Four Minutes"? That'd be funny. Damn, but she was funny.

...cue to the freaking thing to start blasting the song she actually hated.

Ugh.

Heaving a sigh, she got up – not after she hit the clock with a bit more force than necessary – and made her way to the kitchen to fix herself something before she left to her shoot. Quietly humming the four-minutes song to herself, her hands unconsciously went for the cocoa and a mug. Ruby liked to tease her endlessly for rather having cocoa with cinnamon and whipped cream than coffee 'like an adult', but she wouldn't have it any other way. It was a family thing.

And if there was one thing in her life she considered sacred above everything else, it was her family.

While the cocoa heated in the microwave, she went back to her room to grab some clothes and change. Jeans, boots, rock t-shirt. Nothing fancy. What was the point anyway: they'd make her change into some ridiculous outfit as soon as she got there.

And by ridiculous she actually meant ridiculously fancy and let-me-take-it-with-me-please material.

Today they had a promotional shoot scheduled for her last movie. They had finished filming last month and while postproduction rolled, they needed her and her costar to pose with their character's outfits for some promo stuff to release to the press. Emma wasn't very fond of the shoots – she was on her element while acting, not posing. She'd never consider modeling as a way to live - she just couldn't concentrate with the flashes going on every millisecond and the photographers barking orders at her. When she whined about it with Ruby, her friend had wondered how different it was from reporters and paps yelling at her on the red carpet. "That has nothing to do with it!" She hadn't known how to explain to her what she felt in those occasions.

The fans were there. And they were screaming, cheering, rooting for her. For her work. It made all the difference in the world. Even if the _"Emma here! Emma! Emma to your right! Emma! Here! Here! Emma look!"_ was tiring as hell – and potentially deafening – she couldn't help but smile all the same. Because she was proud of her work and it was actually done. Something real. Tangible. That people could go and see.

Yep. She loved what she did, and she wasn't going to let some stupid or rude comment get her down. If she were that soft, the wolves would have eaten her up long ago.

But Emma was no softie. She hadn't had the easiest life as a kid, that was for sure. Going from home to home in the foster care system could really make you doubt anything and everything about yourself – and her younger self liked to delve into those morbid thoughts every now and then. "Why won't they like me?" "Have I done something wrong?" This ought have made her an example of insecure child – but surprisingly, as she grew older, it had the opposite effect. She grew a cold demeanor, not really going with her princess looks and young age, and she didn't let herself rely on anybody if she could help it.

Until she met David Nolan.

Sweet, charming David. They were partnered in chem class together and really, was there anything more bonding material than getting your hair all full of goo from some crappy experiment gone wrong? Yeah, I don't think so. They had gotten close and Emma had finally let herself open up to someone other than herself. Not in a romantic way, mind you. She would never be able to see David as anything as her older brother – which he was, when two years later his mother Ruth had officially adopter her.

Emma had been the most surprised by this – she adored David's mother. She spent most of her weekends in their place, and Ruth even made David bring with him a packed lunch for her everyday, knowing the kind of thing they gave out in the system. She made her stay over whenever she was sick, and had assisted her whenever she had actually caved and asked for help – which she hated doing, not wanting to be in debt with anybody, not even them, the closest thing she had to a family.

But when she found out she was being moved to another center in San Francisco and had to tell David about it, he grew quiet, not knowing how to react to such news. She was absolutely terrified, but gloomily had accepted her fate: she was bound to be alone. Whenever she found comfort in someone after cracking her walls and letting them in, they took them away from her one way or another.

Until Ruth called her a week later and asked her to pack her things and move to their place, as she was officially a member of their family.

It was the happiest moment of Emma's life.

Who would have told her years from now that she'd live this crazy life? That her happy memories would only grow and grow until they nearly smothered her? She had had troubled times after that, of course, and the way to success was no piece of cake. Her life wasn't perfect – was any? - but she was perfectly happy with it for now.

Her acting career was looking up: this was her second big project as a lead character, and though the first one hadn't been all that welcome by the audience, she was still insanely proud of it. Little projects full of meaning and purpose, and with hard work behind them and inspiring minds who put everything together and came up with the most amazing characters and stories. Even if the movie itself hadn't been an actual boom, her performance had gathered some great criticism in the business. Not long after that, calls were received, auditions to be attended and directors to have lunch with or email now and then. It had been absolutely surreal.

Since she had known she wanted to be an actress, she had admitted she needed all the experience she could have. She had been in most of the productions her college had held during the years she spent getting her degree. She had performed in random parks and clubs, and even been in a couple of commercials. She had been extra more times she could even remember in TV shows and specials, and in a couple of movies. And of course she had been in the mandatory Law and Order episode – the golden rule for any actor trying to get anywhere near stardom. But this was another thing entirely. She hadn't felt this happy about a performance since her stage college era, playing one of the most important roles in her life: Titania, the Queen of the Fairies, from Shakespeare's _A Midsummer Night's Dream_. She still got chills remembering about the opening night of the play, it was that intense.

Definitely another contender for happiest day of her life competition.

Snapping out of her reverie, Emma came back to fetch her mug and suddenly realized she hadn't texted Ruby yet – she had promised to let her know in time when she was supposed to meet her for the shoot. Perks of having a make up artist as your best friend. Picking up her phone from her purse and armed with her cocoa in her other hand, she started typing.

_I'm leaving in ten. See you there?_

She didn't have to wait long for her reply. Mug in the counter and paper left abandoned in the counter, the phone beeped.

_Sure thing. Any surprises for the shoot? Man candy around?_

She let out a laugh. Ah, Ruby. Always the hungry wolf looking for new preys.

_Not that I'm aware of. I don't know, you have met the cast already – go for it, I'm not interested anyway._

_Look at you, acting like an old maid. Emma, as your best friend I get dibs on choosing a new guy for you. I'm sick and tired of you don't getting any._

_Shut up and meet me there. Don't be late._

_Aye aye, captain._

Suppressing a grin, she scooped up her keys, phone, purse and some scripts her manager had 'suggested' - aka _threatened_ - she should consider reading for future projects in the horizon. She should have time to check some of them out while she waited for the shoot to start, or while they made their hair or something of the sort. These things could get really boring - if she got any say in the matter she'd suggest having a pool or a darts game or anything. But reading scripts it was for her. Oh joy. At least she hoped there was something good in there this time.

Putting her sunglasses on, she got in the car and drove to the studio where the shoot would take place. She nearly lost it when the music started blaring from the speakers as soon as the key started the ignition. She swore as a sailor and damned Ruby for the hundredth time that day – and every other day – for always leaving the music at such a high volume. Jesus. How could she even hear anything? She turned down the radio so it stayed in a highly normal level – for her standards at least, considering Ruby didn't really understand those – and internally begged for the radio station program to play the Madonna song she had been thinking all morning of. That'd cheer her up before the stupid thing.

"_Our next song is one of your favorites – you guys are begging us everyday for us to play these guys' tunes! Care to guess who we're talking about? Little tip: they come from Neverland..."_

Emma rolled her eyes at the presenter's shenanigans.

"_That's right! The Lost Boys! These folks have been around for years now and have made some of the sweetest success since they dropped their first album – ah, those were the golden times for them! We just heard some really interesting scoop about the mesmerizing vocalist, the unforgettable Killian Jones, who has been seen..."_

"Ugh for God's sake, do you actually play any music in this program?" Emma muttered as she changed stations. She really wanted to hear that Madonna song. Ah, who was she kidding, nobody played that song anymore, it was so 2008. Or was it 2009? What was she even doing at that time? She vaguely remembered singing it at Mary Margaret's birthday party but she couldn't exactly remember what year it'd been... Actually, she couldn't exactly remember much of that night. It had been one of the girls' "wild nights", as Ruby and Ella had decided to dub them.

Lost in her thoughts as she was, she nearly missed her exit to the studio. She got to her parking spot, locked the car after taking out her things from the backseat, and made her way into the building, trying to remember which room she was supposed to have the shoot in. Sputtering under her breath while wandering along the halls, she surely looked like a lunatic. Fishing her phone form her bag ready to call for help, she was startled to hear her name being called from behind her.

"Emma! Over here!"

The heavy accent gave him away. Graham Humbert, her _very_ attractive costar – her inner Ruby was showing there - was waving his arm and thankfully would stop her from further embarrassing herself by getting lost in a building she had already visited. She approached him, blushing and smiling lightly, as she made a notion with her hand at the halls. "It's just these stupid halls – they all look the same, I swear!"

He laughed. "Don't worry, it's no biggie – I've been in here before, so I do know where the shoot is. Would you care to accompany me, my lady?" He faked a pompous medieval accent – which clashed horribly with his very own – and extended his arm for her to take. If she wanted to.

She shook her head, trying to hide her amusement. "You're so silly. Lead the way, Humbert. Tick tock."

"Ouch. And here I thought we were the lovebirds in this tape..."

"We are. In fiction. You know movies and reality are not the same thing, right?" She smirked up at him. He was quite tall – she had found that out when she had worked with him during filming. They had had to stand up really close – like, really, really, zero-space-between-them close - in some scenes and she had whined on an on about how he made her look like a midget. He still would tease her mercilessly about it.

"Oh, Swan, I do. It's you the one we have to worry about confusing both of them." He winked at her. She had no time to retort anything as they'd gotten to the shoot. As soon as she set her feet in the room, Nova, one of the girls in charge of the costume department from the movie, imperiously made for her to join her in the dressing room. She spied the director, Sydney Glass, reading over some papers with a few of the camera crew. He looked up at them and smiled kindly at Emma – they had become great friends during the process of filming, and she could not be more grateful for the opportunity he had given her with this project to work with him and his group. Graham tapped her shoulder and pointed at something. Oh boy. Ruby was there. Flirting with Billy, one of the cameras, no less.

Sighing, she turned around to his costar again. "I should probably go save poor Billy from her."

"Oh, I bet he's in no danger. I'd say he's enjoying himself with the attention."

"You men are all the same. Hot chick comes around, you cannot hold it in your pants."

"So crude, Miss Swan." He tsk-tsked her and started leaving for his very own dressing room. "See you in the shoot. I'm dying to wear the costume again. I really missed the sword, didn't you?"

She couldn't help the snort that escaped her lips. "Oh, yeah, I so missed the sword jokes, I don't know how I've managed to live without them..."

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Swan!" He nearly had to scream so she could hear him while he disappeared behind his door.

Shaking her head, Emma spun around and walked to her very eager friend and the poor guy she was charming with her very red lips – her trademark signature, as she had first declared when they had met back in the day. She laced her arm with her friend's and smiled at Billy. "Hey there stranger, long time no see."

Billy shrugged. "It's not like we've had too much to do after the shooting ended. We've missed you, guys. I was telling Graham earlier we should go hang out soon – maybe try that Wonderland club or something."

Ruby clapped her hands, clearly excited by the prospect of even a group date. Or a chance to go out. "That's such a good idea! My poor Emma here is missing all the fun and it just breaks my heart. Set a date and place and we'll be there."

"Cool." He suddenly grimaced. "Emma, not trying to kick you out or anything, but Nova looks like she wants to rip my head off for keeping you here – I think you should go over there and change."

She twirled again, bringing Ruby with her, and nearly sprinted to her dressing room. Nova didn't look amused. "Finally! What were you doing over there? You know the corset is no mere trifle, I am dreading it already. And the hair – where is that blasted girl? She should be here by now, oh God..."

Emma disconnected her brain for the next couple of hours. The hair fixing, costume wearing, make up applying – not her cup of tea. She tried to read some of the scripts Regina had sent her, she really did, but her mind was elsewhere. Her phone beeped a couple of times, but she couldn't check it until she was free. Ruby kept her entertained while she worked her magic on her face, telling her about the most random things: her latest work in the city, how much she wanted to see that Peter-Pan-whatever-it-was-called band's live, what she had had for dinner the previous night or her conversation with Mary Margaret about possible wedding dresses. They made idle chat until she was called by Billy to join Graham and Sydney.

The shoot went surprisingly well, considering how she hated the posing and all. Graham made it effortlessly easy, making her laugh every time he could. She just found it so weird to have to stare at a camera for that long holding a pose. She felt ridiculous, and so damn awkward – like a statue. The only thing she could think of to make it better was to keep her character in mind.

When they were done, Sydney came to stand beside them both and clapped a hand on their shoulders. "You guys were great. The pics should be ready shortly, so keep an eye on EW and the web – I'm sure both of your twitters will flood with fan hysteria."

"You don't really want to go there." Graham muttered under his breath. Ah, pretty boy problems – not only he had he fans harassing him everywhere he went: add crazed tweets to the mix. That was the reason why she didn't barely use her account, when she actually got one after Ruby and Ella begged her to do it. Really, the '_do it for your fans'_ line should be banned for those two, they used it whenever they saw fit for their sake.

"Hey, I nearly forgot – do you guys have any plans tomorrow?" Sydney looked at them in a say-you-don't-have-anything-planned-because-tomorrow-you-sure-have-something-to-do face. Okay then. Bye to her movie and popcorn night.

"No, nothing at all. Why? What is it?"

"There is this gala at the Savoy, and the crew and cast have been invited. It is a benefit gala and it'll be filled with critics and people in the business." He looked pointedly at Emma. "It is one of those events you really find contacts in this little world. I'd hate for you to miss it, miss Swan. As I have already told you these past months before we got to work in this project, you have potential to be one of the greatest actresses of our generation."

Feeling her face heat up at the compliment, Emma looked at her feet and nodded her head before acknowledging her boss again. "Of course. I'll be there, don't worry. Can we bring someone with us?"

"Um excuse me, rude, Swan! I am right here and you are already asking for dates?" Graham laughed at her. She slapped his arm.

"I was talking about my brother and his fiancé. And Ruby over there. The poor girl really needs to be taken out now and then. Too many adrenaline to let out." She faked an exasperated stance as she signaled over at her friend, who was milling around with the crew guys. This girl really was something.

"Of course, bring whoever you want. Okay, see you there tomorrow, 8PM. Don't be late. Or do. I don't even know about etiquette anymore, this 'fashionable late' and crazy things you women come up with..." He left them both staring at his back while he murmured to himself. She exchanged an amused smile with Graham, who looked like he was having a hard time trying not to crack up.

"So, we are going to a par-tay tomorrow. Do we have to wear fancy dresses? Please God tell me I don't need to wear heels. Please please please please please." After a very embarrassing tripping incident in her teenage years, Emma wasn't too fond of high heels. They just didn't get along, even if she did look rather good in them, if she said so herself.

"Emma, come on, it's just one night. I don't know about the tuxedos and dresses, but heels are a must, I bet. It won't be that bad." He dropped his voice. "There'll be food. And drinks. For _free_."

She couldn't help but laugh at that. "You said the magic word! Booze!"

"Where?!"

Emma actually groaned at this. "Oh my God, Ruby, it is like you show up whenever someone talks about partying or dressing up!"

"We are dressing up? When? Where? What did I miss?" Her friend's eyes had lightened up – for God's sake, she was _bouncing_ on the spot.

As Graham filled her in, she went back to the dressing room and changed into her own clothes. She washed her face and put her hair into a messy ponytail, and for the first time since she had gotten there, she picked up her phone: a missing call from Regina, and a couple of texts from Mary Margaret.

She decided first to try Regina – her manager wasn't the most patient person out there she knew, to be fair. When she didn't pick up, she decided to leave a message for her explaining about the gala the following day and appeasing her about reading some of the scripts she had left for her – _liar liar pants on fire, _she sang to herself as she hung up. Oh, well. What she didn't know wouldn't kill her, right?

At last, she could read her future sister-in-law's texts.

_You'd better get pics of the shoot today. I really look forward to see those corsets!_

_EMMA SWAN. DID YOU GET THEM? YOU KNOW HOW IMPORTANT THIS IS TO ME._

She couldn't keep herself from rolling her eyes. Being friends with a fashion designer could really rock out your world: they got you the best presents for Christmas and birthdays – as in, the cutest outfits she'd ever owned –, they always knew where to buy anything clothes-related and where sales where the best ,and they even taught you about weird-slash-cute fashion names as 'LBD' and 'kaftan'.

But it'd also redefine your life when you actually found yourself questioning your wardrobe choice every morning, when she had never in her life cared at all about it.

She typed her response and told her about the upcoming event they'd been invited to. She really hoped they could make it – it'd been too long since she had seen David. She missed him, even if they talked quite often. He had been with her most of her life, and she felt like lately they'd been kind of slipping away since she had gotten her big shot in the city.

She couldn't help but feel like her life was getting step by step into a slowly growing hurricane. Something she couldn't handle by herself, something completely out of her control. And Emma Swan liked to take the wheel of things. Damn it if she wouldn't take it on this.

* * *

_**...so, here you go. Emma's first take on this story! I rather like her. Specially the song-stuck-in-head thing. I actually played Four Minutes a couple of times while typing this to get in the mood - and amaze myself cause, really, that song is SO 2008. Jeez.**_

_**Also, I'd like to hug and kiss each and every one of you who either favorited, followed and reviewed this story - you guys are all kind of awesomesauce! It made me want to keep writing (apart from plot bunnies. And Emma. Cause, you know, I love her).**_

_**Hopefully, next epi these two will meet somewhere...? *evil laugh* **_


	3. Chapter 3: The Gala

**_Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or Once Upon A Time - the trolls Edward Kitsis and Adam Horowitz do. If I did, I'd make them canon faster than lighting._**

* * *

Next day found Killian laying on his back, staring at the sky, trying to find random shapes in the clouds gathered up there. He had slept through the morning, eager to forget the previous night's activities and the obvious aftermath they had all endured. His horrible headache had finally decided to give him a rest, for which he was extremely thankful, and he had even grabbed a bite at the little cafe he used to stop by sometimes. The lady working there, Granny, knew his order by now, as she always served him whenever he came around. In fact, it looked just like, as soon as she laid eyes on him, judging his demeanor, she guessed it'd be a "hangover day" menu: black coffee – in large quantities, and the house special.

He really liked this woman. She didn't pry, though she knew who he was and what he did for a living. She sometimes winked at him or chuckled a bit when one of their songs came out on the radio in the restaurant, and they'd find themselves sharing this little ritual every now and then. Sometimes she'd listen when he was in the mood to talk, and she'd give him great advice – if he was willing to accept it. Their bond could look weird to any outsider, by it worked just fine for them.

Dragging his left hand up, he motioned his fingers as if holding a brush, mock drawing the next shape he saw. Was that a bird? It looked too graceful to be some sparrow or a pigeon. Huh. He wasn't that into birds – though August did find ornithology a fascinating topic, as they had surprisingly found out once they had roamed his trailer when they were on tour the year before. As it turned out, _"__The Bedside Book of Birds: An Avian Miscellany"_ was quite the piece of literature for his friend. Not that he was judging.

Well, they did. They still called him from time to time their little ugly duckling just to piss off the poor bastard.

With his hand still in the air, the light reflected the glass on his clock. Fuck. Was it 6 already? He had to be at the Savoy in two hours. Thank God for Belle and her friend – some Elsa, Ella, or something like that - to pick up suits, belts, ties and whatever crap he needed for the impending evening. Killian wasn't that fond of galas themselves – he would rather go to a club than a formal party. Just the 'formal' thing made him ground his teeth. He was no formal material. He was no material, period. Well, he was awesome material, that they could agree. "God's gift" material, as he preferred to be called from now and then just to take the mic out of his mates. But just thinking about having to exchange pleasantries and faking he was having the time of his life with a flute of champagne in his hand laughing at some rich asshole's stupid quip made him want to gag himself.

Alas, he knew he had to go. He had driven them into this, after all. He had no one but himself to blame. Maybe if he had handled things differently, if he had tried to let go earlier – if those damned paps wouldn't have followed him around every fucking corner in this goddamned city. His brow furrowed as he remembered the magazine articles and covers. The assumed 'sources' who knew just what a rough time he had been having. Pitiful. Absolutely humiliating. He didn't even want to wonder who had read those.

He didn't want to think if someone in particular had.

He left his hand drop on his face and rubbed it furiously, as if attempting to make the thoughts go away just by the action. As a child would believe there were no monsters under his bed by lighting a candle on his bedside table. As he had indeed done when he was a kid, when he still lived with his parents, back in his hometown. As soon as the memory came to mind, his hands momentarily froze, and then began rubbing even harder than before. This wasn't the time for that shit. Not today.

In the middle of his inner struggle, a beeping and flutter in sync came from inside his jeans' pocket. Sighing relieved for the interruption, he took it out and looked at the screen. Of course it would be him.

"You know you don't actually have to act as everyone's guardian angel or whatever it is you call yourself, right, Batman?"

"You picked up right after the first ring. I am impressed." He actually sounded surprised. The git.

"You were lucky, I was chatting up some lovely lady and I'm just taking this so I can hung your sorry excuse of a face up and keep my sexting right where I left it."

"Come on, you never text. Not even for sex." August couldn't keep the smirk from his voice.

"I can show them to you later, you traitor. How could you doubt my sexting skills is beyond me."

Oh, there it was August's special Killian's sigh. I-don't-know-how-I-put-up-with-you-but-I-do-anyway sigh. This one he could manage. "Whatever, you pervert. You got everything ready for later right?"

"Uh-huh. Belle's friend – I still can't remember her name, Elsa? - the shoe's designer came by earlier and left all here."

"It's Ella, Killian. For God's sake, you've seen her and met her plenty of times – tried to get into her pants once or twice, now that I think of it..."

"I do not recall any of that." Had he? Huh.

"Oh, I bet her really big football player boyfriend Thomas does." Killian cringed. That one he did remember. He decided to change topics.

"Okay. Was that all? Everything's just peachy August. No need to worry, I'm not going to get lost before the fucking thing starts."

There was silence on the other line for a minute, and Killian wondered what could have gotten him in that state. "You okay, mate?"

"I think it's you we should be asking that question, but I rather believe you won't tell me the truth, not right now at least, so I'll just wait for the right moment when you'll spill the beans."

Killian held her breath. He hadn't been expecting that.

"Don't forget - we'll hear you out. So whenever you're ready, we'll be here."

He gulped. Shit, today was just going downhill, what the hell was going on? Couldn't they just leave him be and get this thing over with? Not wanting to worry August, he opted for the easy way out. "Yeah. Sure thing. Thanks, mate."

"No problem. I'll see you at the studio, Leroy will drive us to the Savoy."

"Great. See you there." Right before he was going to hung up, he noticed that the cloud shape he had been staring at earlier had morphed a bit – its neck was even longer now. But it didn't make it look weird our out of proportion – it gave it an elegant form, regal and proud. "Hey, August."

"What? Need tips for the sexting?"

"Please, I don't want to scare the poor bird away – but this is another bird related thing entirely. Any birds with a really long neck come to mind?"

"Um, a swan?"

"Woah, you're fast. Thank you mate. See you later." He hung up before his friend could even ask what all of that was about. He kept staring at the cloud swan: now he could exactly spot it, see the extended wings, how artfully displayed they were. He bet it was a female swan. For a couple of minutes, just laying there, gazing up into the sky, he felt content.

* * *

"Hey kids."

"Leroy, please, will you ever stop calling us 'kids'? It's offensive. And just plain foul. You have to stop."

"Not a chance, bro. You asked for it with that name you chose for your lil' group. Kids it is."

The five of them fake-groaned and shared a laugh while they got sat in the backseat of the limo. Gold used to prefer for them to get to these fancy occasions via even fancier car, meaning Leroy would always be given the task to drive them up and down for the night. Killian didn't want to remember all the things the poor guy had had to witness since he had started working for them. They had had to coin a new motto: whatever happens in the limo, stays in the limo. The guy had even threatened them with an axe once – who _owned_ an axe? Apart from serial killers, that is? - when Victor had almost jumped out of the window in the middle of a row with some idiot who had been too far gone and shouted at them. Guy stuff.

Or, as Belle so eloquently called it, testosterone stuff.

Leroy stared at them in the rearview mirror fighting an amused smile. "Well, aren't you all looking sharp in those suits. But where are the birdies? Dry charm in paradise, huh?"

Jefferson rolled his eyes as he rummaged in the sides of his seat, no doubt looking for something to ease his nerves. He always got edgy whenever they had to go to public appearances – and the fact that they had to be milling around with all kind of posh and glamour you could find in Los Angeles, he sure needed a shot. Or a couple of cigarettes. For his part, Philip looked livid at the implication. "May I add that I, unlike all of these losers, actually have a girlfriend?"

Leroy feigned mock surprise. "You got yourself a girlfriend? When did that happen? What kind of shit did you feed the girl to agree to that?" All of them laughed while Philip shook his head. Killian suppressed a smile, thinking of how much poor Aurora had had to put up with all of them since she had started dating Philip. She was such a sweetheart – she had the softest voice, a rich laugh and quite the temper when she didn't get her way about things. She also got easily scandalized - which was no good when you were surrounded by a group of guys whose only goal in life was to never grow up. Literally.

The ride was finally over as they reached the Savoy. There were a dozen of other limos parked ahead of them, and they could all see flashy dresses and perfect hairdos come and go out of the cars and getting into the hotel.

And, of course, there were the cameras.

He nervously adjusted his tie. He hadn't been in the public eye purposely for months, and he felt slightly out of touch. He didn't mind the posing, waving and answering to reporters routine; in fact, it was one of the things he had found out he had no problem with when all this adventure had started in the first place. Gold had told him early in their acquaintance: he had charm, and he could work it to get whatever he wanted. But the thing was: he liked to do it on his terms. And after the incident, he had been rather careless in his media approach.

So. This was it.

Taking a couple of cleansing breaths, he opened the door and let himself out. Leroy nodded to him from his spot in the driver's seat while the rest of the band followed him onto the sidewalk leading to the reception area. Some of the flashing started, and Killian let a smile take over his face. _For the fans. Do it for the fans. Do it for them. Do it for your boys. Do it for Belle. Fuck, do it even for Gold._

_Do it for yourself. You need this. And they need you in return._

Forms and shadows mixed, everything was like in a blur during that walk until they were inside. Thankfully there were no reporters that day, being a private gala and all, though some of them may be trying to let themselves in the party just to have some tidbits for the trash they'd print the very next day – that, Killian was sure of. He felt how his bandmates kept close to him as they walked, and finally they posed together when asked to by some of the paps who got the gala covering that night.

It was easy to smile at those ones. He was actually starting to relax himself.

After what felt like the longest walk of his life, they reached the reception post, where a hostess guided them to the salon where the gala would be taking place. It was easy to lose oneself looking at everything surrounding them. He heard Victor quietly whistle under his breath: they still weren't used to this kind of glam. They shuffled in after a large crowd to find the room, trimmed with white lights and candles in chandeliers hanging from the ceilings. A banner from some kind of association – Killian hadn't even bothered to find out what it was they were hosting, he didn't care at all – hung behind a stage.

"Wow. These guys sure know hot to dress to impress, huh?" Jefferson commented as they walked into the main banquet hall. Killian wasn't that much into fashion himself, but if he had a thief past life, he sure would be drooling in that room. Some of LA's most elite socialites were standing mere feet from them, the smell of money and power heavy in the air.

He shrugged. He had never been one to feel intimidated by the glitz and glamour.

"You guys know how to clean up, huh?"

They rounded to see Aurora, holding two flutes of champagne in her hands and smiling up at them. Hot at her heels was Belle, who made a silent gesture signaling behind her at Gold, who was greeting someone – he guessed those were the hosts? - with heavy handshakes. "You have to properly thank them for the invitation, so be polite and don't embarrass yourself. Deal?" Aurora made them promise with a flutter of her eyes. God, if he had to pay a buck every time he had caved to anything she had ever asked of them with that trick of hers, he'd be broke. Damn that girl. He rolled her eyes at her and kissed her cheek briefly before making his way to his manager.

After he had endured the mandatory time with the hosts, not failing his character for a second while he was at it – thanking profusely, admiring the decorations, food and drink, and of course, the lady's dress in question - he excused himself to join his group. He couldn't believe they had left him alone to deal with that.

Sometimes, being the frontman of your band sucked. Hard.

He moved toward the bar – he just _knew _they'd be there, if Jefferson had any say on it. He suppressed a laugh: he wouldn't make it tonight. Poor lad wouldn't live enough if he let his nerves get him like this. And he hated the idea of an orphaned Grace, even though she had confessed to him a couple of times she'd love to live with 'uncle Killian'. As much as it warmed his heart, Killian was not ready to be anyone's 'papa'. Not now, not ever if he had any say in it, he thought bitterly. _Don't go there, Jones_. With renewed purpose in his stride to get there before the impending doom of his friend, he dodged bodies here and there, until someone caught his eye: August's back was to him, talking to Graham.

They had met Graham a year ago, when he had been cast as the lead in one of their videos. It had been their most successful one as of yet, making number one for weeks on MTV and getting thousands of views on Youtube in record time. Not only was the song one Killian felt most proud of and a kind of hymn for the band - the fact that Graham was one of the most coveted actors of their time or that he was _incredibly hot_ (Belle's words, not his) had helped.

During the filming of the video, the band had bonded with the also irish actor, and they usually hung out together whenever they all were in town at the same time. He was an easy-going guy, fun to be around – and a perfect wingman, as Killian had once complimented him after a really lucky night out.

He approached them and after picking up a drink from one of the various trays waitress were bringing around, he tapped Graham on the back. "Oi! What are you doing here? The hot irish guy place is already taken, get your own gala to fill yours!"

He laughed and gave him a one-armed bro-type of hug. "Piss off Jones, you are late to the party – you know they'd all rather have me."

"Keep telling yourself that, lad, if it makes you sleep better at night." He smirked at him. "No hot date, huh Humbert? Tsk tsk. I thought better of you."

"Well, I don't see anyone on your arm either..." August quipped from the side. Killian shot him a glare, and he hurriedly busied himself with his drink, feigning innocence.

Graham lifted his arms in surrender. "No date. Pathetic, isn't it? All these stupid awards, _"__Man of the Year"_, _"__Most Desired Man"_, what for?" He dramatically sighed. "Unless you consider my costar as my date, I'd just admit it. I'm a lonely soul."

August lifted his eyebrow. "Who is it? The one you worked in that Glass movie last month?"

Graham smiled. "Yeah, that's the one. We were filming in Montreal for weeks – it was _freezing_ there, let me tell you. But we had the best time. We had to train a lot for it, you know: horse riding, sword fighting and all kind of stuff. Very fairytale-like." He winked at them. "Right in your loop, huh, Lost Boys?"

They both chuckled at that when their friend suddenly waved an arm. "Hey, over here!" Killian span around to see a gorgeous brunette walking towards them. Man, if Graham had had to work with this girl for months and call her his date, he wouldn't complain. At all.

"Graham! Where were you? I've been looking for you _everywhere_, I went to the bathroom – have you been in there? They look like a freaking palace! At least the women's ones do. Don't even wanna think about the men's one, to be honest. Ew. Wait, have you seen Emma? She has my drink! I mean, I left it with her, but I got talking to this girl who works for Cora Mills – _Cora Mills. GUYS._ – and I lost her! I can't find her anywhere, so I thought maybe – _OHMYGODYOU'REKILLIANJONES_."

Killian didn't know wether to laugh hysterically or be stunned at the girl. The gal was like a ray of light, ablaze and alive, bursting with energy. And apparently she was an actress. And she knew him.

"In the flesh. And may I know who I have the pleasure to be talking to?" He opted for the charming approach. It always worked. He picked up another drink floating on his right from a waitress.

"This is Ruby. Ruby, these are Killian Jones and August Booth. I'm sure you know who they are." Graham introduced them with a fond smile while they both shook her hand, Killian even venturing to kiss her knuckles galantly, making her blush profusely and let out a giggle.

"Of course I know who they are! I was telling Emma yesterday I was dying to go to your show – I'd literally kill someone for a ticket, but they were all sold out." She pouted. Red lips. Huh. He was not that fond of those. Whatever. "Anyway, I'm such a huge fan of yours! You guys are amazing. Your last album was so good, I just – ugh!" She made a frustrated noise. He had come to terms with those: fangirl appreciation. This girl was fun. He wouldn't have pegged an actress as this.

"You're too nice. I'm glad you are a fan. Maybe we could help you out with the tickets for the show, it'd be no problem – Graham, you could come too." Ah, August, always the polite, pleasant one, ready to save the poor damsel in distress. Even if the damsel in question wore eight-inch heels and a very tight black dress, not leaving much to the imagination. Not the usual story type.

"Are you kidding me?! That'd be amazing! Oh my God, just let me find Emma – she's going to freak out when I tell her..." This Ruby girl talked way too loud. He bet she was one of those who blasted the speakers off in her car or usually wore headphones – those were the symptoms for voices that high.

Graham rolled his eyes. "Ruby, you know Emma doesn't even know who these guys are. She tunes you out when you start rabbiting on about them."

"What are you talking about?" Uh-oh. She looked offended.

"Are you kidding? Whenever you start, she picks up her phone. Or just uh-huh's you. Specially when you guys are with the make up."

"Come on, I'm not that boring. Or that nosy. All of my clients adore my chirp."

Killian was starting to get confused. Clients? What was she talking about? He went to take another sip when he saw he had already finished his drink. One of the waitress noticed and refilled it for him without even asking. Flabbergasted, he looked up and saw August staring at him. He shook his head. He was alright. He was in control.

"I'm not saying you are a bore, I'm just saying that Emma..."

"Emma what?"

Killian was so startled at the voice at his right, his arm leapt out, spilling the contents of his glass right in the front of the newcomer's dress. Fuck. No. This wasn't happening.

Lifting his gaze, he met a pair of startling green eyes, staring daggers at him. Blonde curls bouncing and framing her face, the girl just stared at him, a hand on her chest right where the champagne had stained her pale blue dress. Oh, fuck. If it were at least a dark shade, it wouldn't stand out so much – he had had his fair share of experience with drunken stains, after all. He was a freaking connoisseur.

Silence fell in their little group. Fuck, this was awkward.

"I knew the heels were a bad idea. They're fucking cursed, I swear." The girl – _Emma_ – murmured under her breath while trying to unsuccessfully wipe some of the liquid from the cloth.

"Emma? Are you okay?" Graham sounded concerned as he made towards her.

She stopped him with her hand. "Don't worry, I'll just let it dry or something. Unless your friend over here decides it is dry enough to throw a glass of wine next," she added bitingly.

Ruby looked like she was in the verge of a panic attack. "Are you insane? We are going to the bathroom right now!"

Blondie scoffed at her friend, taking her friend's glass and taking a sip, as if it would help her with her current predicament. "Oh yeah, and what would you have me do, genius? Take it off and go in my undies around?"

"Well, don't mind us if that's the plan, love."

Sometimes he wished someone would sew his mouth shut. That hadn't been his best moment. Emma's gaze sought his and he saw her purse her lips, as if making a huge effort not to curse. He wouldn't have minded, if he was being sincere. Girls who cursed were a huge turn on for him. _What the hell was he even thinking? Jones, for fuck's sake, get a grip. This is an emergency. Let's hope not much people has seen this, or they'll start spewing out shit about you being drunk and molesting young successful actresses. _

He glanced over at August, and saw him incline his head towards blondielocks there. He sighed, knowing apologizing would be the best course of action in this situation. Giving one step in her direction, she stopped trying to brush a handkerchief Ruby had given her over the dress and gave him a chilly look. He cleared his throat. "I'm really sorry, I swear I didn't know you were there, um..."

She interrupted him before he could even finish whatever he was going to say next. "I really hope you didn't know I was there, if you did I'd question your alcohol tolerance. Oh no, wait: I'm already questioning it." She squinted her eyes, as if judging his state.

That wasn't something he cared to hear now. Not especially after what had happened the day before. "Oi, I am not drunk, okay? You suddenly turned up like in some freaking trick of magic and startled me. It was an accident. Excuse me for ruining your night, princess." The venom in his voice was palpable.

"Emma..." Ruby and Graham tried to warn her for the second time, with no avail.

Her cheeks flushed at that, and she raised a finger at him with her free hand. "Don't you ever call me that again, hear me, mister?"

"Aw, not in the pet names stage yet, are we? And here I thought we were in much more _intimate_ terms – after all, I can see far more of you than you'd think in those wet clothes." He let his eyes linger on her chest. He was mildly surprised that she didn't even try to cover any of it after that.

"Well, considering not anyone else in this group has thrown anything at me when I 'magically turned up', I'd say it is your problem, not mine."

"Oh, but that's where you're wrong darling," he advanced towards her until her feet touched hers, giving her one of his infamous smirks, "you are the one wearing a wet dress, remember?"

And the craziest thing happened.

She actually dared to smile at him.

She _smiled_.

He was so confused, his feet rooted to the spot and just stared at her, astounded, trying to decode what the hell was going on in that blonde head of hers. Right when he was going to ask her, she spoke. "Keep smiling buddy, but I won't be alone for long."

Next thing he knew, his face was full of champagne. She had actually dared to throw it at his face.

Gasps where heard around them – apparently their little incident hadn't been as private as he had believed at first. Or it had been until this crazy bitch had decided to start World War III in the reception of the freaking Savoy Hotel. Sputtering and trying – unsuccessfully, mind you – to get the liquid out of his eyes, he was amazed to see that the girl had left, taking her friend with her.

She had _left!_

Groaning, August clapped a hand over his face and shook his head a couple of times. "Well, that was smooth, Jones."

Trying not to shake in anger, Killian was ready to give him a piece of his mind when Graham whistled lowly under his breath, waved a hand in the direction the girls had left – the bathroom, probably – and declared in a dramatic fashion: "And that, my friends, is the beautiful, talented and real life badass extraordinaire Emma Swan."

Killian swore under his breath. _Swan_ it had to be. Of course.

* * *

_**So, they finally met! Not much for interaction (HA!), I know - hey, good things come to those who wait, or so they say...! You'll see what those two have ahead of them. Next chapter: we'll finally get to meet Regina, more Ruby and Emma antics and a proposition...? Mmm...**_

_**Hope you guys enjoyed it!**_

_**On a side note, Noel Gallagher and the Flying Birds' last album was my muse for this. Sigh. I love those guys. **_


	4. Chapter 4: The Fallout

**_Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or Once Upon A Time - the trolls Edward Kitsis and Adam Horowitz do. If I did, I'd make them canon faster than lighting._**

* * *

Great. Everything was just going fucking _great_.

To be honest, the day had been going surprisingly well, all things considered. She hadn't been that eager about the whole gala thing – even though Sydney had promised it'd be potentially beneficial for her to attend, as he had told her the day before. She just wished she didn't have to play dress up and goad people to make them interested in her. She still found herself distrustful and wary of this Hollywood way of seeing things; the walls and layers of paint people wore in order to project a certain image to please everybody else. She knew about those: she had lived behind them herself for years until someone had made them crumble to pieces. She had learnt how to use them to her benefit: she could wear all kind of different layers to come up with a certain character, to feel like them and _be_ them.

But sometimes, she wished people would just see her. Trust her talent. Bet on her.

Shucks, not everything went as one wanted. Surprise there, huh? Not really.

After admitting defeat at the prospect of a night out, she had caved and let Ruby handle the girly stuff part – dress, hairdo, heels – ugh, - and make up. But Emma knew as soon as she named her knight of the pre-gala she wouldn't be doing everything alone.

She should have known better. Should have expected the fashion brigade.

Ella. Mary Margaret. And, of course, Ruby.

She had found the three of them barging into her room, opening drawers and wardrobes, barking orders here and there and literally dragging her out of bed. They had made her try one dress after other, heels which would go with them, purses, clutches, necklaces, earrings, bracelets, a new mascara Ruby had gotten from some brand she had worked with the previous week, and dozens of every freaking tiny detail a girl should wear for a formal occasion.

It made the current situation positively _hilarious_, seeing that all those long hours of torture under her friends' hands only had led to a fucking glass of champagne in her dress.

Ella had mentioned something about karma that morning. Maybe she had deserved it? Had she pissed off someone so bad the universe was repaying her with this? She didn't think so. Pensive look mode activated, she thought long and hard about whatever she could have done. Nope. Nothing came to mind.

Maybe she was such a bad person she didn't even find her faults as such? WAS SHE? OH MY GOD SHE WAS.

"Emma? You okay?"

She looked in the bathroom mirror to find Ruby staring worriedly at her in the reflection. She looked amazing, as always. Emma still couldn't figure out how her friend wasn't modeling or walking down the catwalk – God knew she definitely could. But Ruby had never wanted to be valued for her looks – she'd rather do something she felt proud of, something she was good at, something that really filled her by making it with her own hands - not just being a pretty face. Something Emma had respected since she had met her those years ago, still young and carefree.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine, I just spaced out for a bit. Apparently getting champagne shoved down your rack does that to you." She looked miserably at the front of her dress and sighed. She had actually liked this one – Mary Margaret had brought it and, as always, had been spot on. For all the trouble she seemed to find with Emma's wardrobe, she really knew what kind of clothes she'd feel more comfortable with – and hot, dared she say it. It was like she knew the line Emma would draw where she'd not feel herself wearing something. In this case, she hadn't even had to put up a fight for the match Emma-wear-this-or-I'll-make-you-for-the-love-of-Go d-just-wear-it-already – they _loved_ to play that game every time they had a special night out, ever since they had been in college together; in fact, that was one of the steps in their fashion brigade routine. It was of a pale, soft blue cloth, draping in soft waves down her hips and showing the pale skin of her shoulders and collarbone. She didn't feel exposed, though, which was okay with her. And even though her friends had brought a couple of trinkets for her to try – as the routine demanded, of course – they had gone with the most simple option: her own necklace, with its two golden rings hanging at the base of her throat. Nothing else, nothing more.

The other necklace she had worn for years was currently sitting in the back of her beside table drawer.

She was brought back abruptly to the present when Ruby took her hand and brought her to the hand-dryer next to the sink. She situated her right under the device and it started working as a puff of warm air hit her chest – thank God it worked with some kind of sensor, she wasn't in the mood to press any kind of button every couple of minutes.

"Okay, I don't think we'll have to wait much for this to dry. It's champagne after all – it'll go easy enough."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, champagne is not that bad - don't mind that those guys – and Graham – could totally see my nipples out there. Thank you champagne, great job." Ruby let out a peal of laughter at that.

"Please don't make me laugh, this dress is so tight it might rip!" That only made Emma laugh at her. They were in stitches in question on seconds, just pointing at each other's faces.

That was step number two in the fashion brigade. Check.

"Oh, God." Ruby tried to dry the tears in her eyes without ruining her mascara – even though her hand was already grabbing her purse in search of the make up she always brought with her anywhere she went. "How's the dress going? Is it still wet?"

"It's all wet for you, honey. All for you." Emma mocked in a creepy western's accent, earning another laugh from her friend. She felt the cloth in her hand, treading carefully. "Nah, it's dry already – it looks a bit wrinkled, but whatever."

"Perfect. Your hair though – ugh, come here, I'll fix it. Screw the hairdo, let's hope Mary Margaret doesn't freak out when she sees it." She said while she positioned herself behind Emma and started sticking out pins from the half do they had made her wear earlier. While she worked on her curls, Emma cursed for the hundredth time the guy who had so carelessly thrown her that drink. What the hell had he been doing?

She gripped the sides of the basin and looked at her reflection. "The nerve of the guy. Showing up here drunk – it's not even 10:30!"

Ruby's hand stopped moving. "Emma, do you even know who he was?"

"I don't care who he was, I care that not only did he throw a glass of champagne to my chest, he even laughed at me for it and nearly harassed me!" Her hands balled into fists remembering the nerve of the guy, staring down at her _very_ visible breasts under the very wet piece of clothing and smirking cruelly at her.

"He's one of Graham's friends, you know." Ruby continued messing her locks, going for an informal look. There was no way she was going out of there with another princess-do. No sir.

"Yeah, well, even if Graham is quite a nice guy, his friends don't really have to be as well." Now that she stopped to consider it, he had had an Irish accent. Maybe he was friend with Graham because of that? Maybe they had met there when they were younger and still lived there? She knew Graham had left home when he was 18 to pursue his acting career. She didn't know what his friend did for a living – not that she cared, for that matter, but she was curious to find out if that was the connection between them.

Ruby sighed, hands still in her hair. Emma winced when she pulled on one knot. Great. Karma. Fucking Ella for getting those ideas in her head in the first place. "Emma, you overreacted a bit. He wasn't drunk, I swear, I was talking to him right before you showed up and he was perfectly charming. Way too charming, maybe – but come on, he is Killian Jones!" Her eyes lit up – she even squealed a bit.

The name threw her. "Who the hell is Killian Jones and why does it sound familiar...?"

The brunette left a horrified gasp in response. "EMMA. I talk about these guys every freaking day! Graham was right, you really don't know who they are? Oh my God, I can't believe this." She was even fanning herself. Like one of those girls in ancient movies did when they were scandalized by something. Emma would have found it cute weren't she so confused.

"I don't know okay, I work with too many people to remember every fucking name I hear – but Ruby, let's be honest:" she looked at he right in the eye in the mirror, "you talk way too much, and not everything you say makes it through the filter."

Ruby just put one of her hands over her heart and patted her blond locks, as if petting a cute puppy. A clueless puppy. "I could be offended by that but I'm not. Instead, I'll be the better person and I'll tell you who the guy who spilt his drink on your boobs is."

"Woah. That's quite the deal I've made." Emma grumbled under her breath. Even though she hated to admit she was quite curious to find about the Irish drunkie. Why she did, she would love to know.

The only thing she was sure of was that he was a jerk.

"Shut up. Okay: Killian Jones. Irishman, singer, frontman and vocalist from The Lost Boys. Rings any bells?"

Emma frowned. Where had she heard something about that...? Suddenly, the cheesy comment from the presenter on the radio program came to mind. She groaned. "Oh God. Those guys?"

Ruby squealed, pleased with her reaction. "I knew you would know about them!"

"I really don't, I just heard something about them on the radio yesterday – I mean, I'm sure I've heard some more and maybe one or two of their songs but I'm not really into that kind of music anyway. And surely not into the gossip spread about them."

She saw her shook her head, clearly fighting a smile. "Well, there you are. You officially met Killian professional panty-dropper, club-lover and mystery stubble-wrapped-please-fuck-me Jones. Something to tell your grandkids in the future."

Oh God. Were they really discussing stories to tell future grandchildren? It was worth knocking herself out in the sink. "Sure. That'll be a great story some time. 'And then I threw a glass of Dom Pérignon in his face, kids!'"

Her friend cracked up. "'...But not after he got a great look at my ta-tas, of course...!'"

"RUBY!"

"Ruby? Emma? Are you two in there?" A voice came up from the bathroom door, and they both turned around to see Mary Margaret approaching them. "I've been looking for you two for the last hour! Where have you been? Wait. Emma! What have you done to your dress? It's wrinkled! And your hair?" Every sentence was louder in scale. Emma literally flinched at the dress comment.

"Well, it's a long story involving an a glass of champagne and an annoying leprechaun who was giving us trouble until the blond hot hero saved the day. But hey - look what Ruby did with my hair in a matter of minutes! Isn't she awesome? Let's celebrate her talent, come on guys!" She said, looping an arm around her friend's and joining Mary Margaret at the door. She stared at her with an exasperated face, but ultimately decided it wasn't worth asking, because she took her other arm and walked with them to the banquet hall. Phew. That was close. She wouldn't hear the end of it if she found out about her epic stand down with the rock star.

Just as they set foot in it, an arm waved in their direction in the center of a large group in front of them. "Girls! Over here!" It was David. Making their way over him, carefully trying not to trip over anybody's feet, Emma finally found herself beside her brother. Sensing his gaze, she looked up at him and saw his raised brow. She shook her head and murmured under her breath. "Don't even ask." He chuckled lowly, knowing it'd be best not to bring it up or his fiancé would start the third degree – just for the dress' sake, mind you, not hers. Well, maybe a bit for her, but priorities were priorities, and in Mary Margaret's book, the dresses were first and foremost her babies.

They made small talk while trying some of the canapés they were serving around for a while, until Ella joined them with Thomas to tell them they were leaving – not without the proper gasp and customary "what happened to your dress Emma?!". They were anxious to return to little Alex. Emma smiled wistfully, thinking of the adorable kid. She had babysat for her friends far more times she dared to admit when she was free and in town– she loved it, in fact, and Alex seemed to be rather fond of her as well. Even though she was left a bit sad whenever her parents came to pick her up.

After getting rid of Ruby's unconsolable self and her pouty "But it's so early – and we guys never get to go out like this together - and FOR FREE! Please don't leave!", they finally said their goodbyes, promising to see each other soon and left.

Emma wandered on her own to one of the tabled full of food, inspecting the arranged China displayed arpund in search of some of the goodies she had already tasted – where were those foie cornets with caramelized apple, dammit, they were _glorious_ – she nearly knocked someone in her hunt. "Oh, sorry, I'm really sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going..." When she lifted her head, she recognized the other guy who had been there when the rockstar had spilt his drink on her. Great. Just great.

"It's no problem." He shuffled a bit on his feet, looking out of place. "It's Emma, right? Emma Swan?"

Huh. He knew her? "Yeah. I assume Graham has filled you in?"

"Well, you showed up when your friend was calling out your name. But yeah, you're right, Graham was telling us you've been working together with Glass' last project. Congratulations, by the way. I heard competition was fierce. You must be quite the talent if he chose you instead of other face." He told her with an embarrassed smile.

She stared at him, not sure how to respond to that. He seemed sincere. Well, why would he have to lie in the first place? Maybe he did think she was a serious actress.

Or maybe he was just trying to be extra polite to make amends after his mate's fuck up.

Fuck it.

"Look, um..."

"August. August Booth. I play the keyboards in the group, as I'm sure you don't know." His eyes crinkled at that – right, apparently everybody was aware of the fact that she didn't know who the hell their band was. Whatever, she was not ashamed of not being a crazy hormoned fangirl like Ruby was.

"Right. August. You don't have to play nice, okay? Whatever happened with your friend is no concern of yours, you don't have to come and clean up his mess." She waved a hand like it wasn't really a problem. Don't worry, stranger who got to see more of her than she would ever had shown in the first place, everything was fine. Really.

He looked surprised at this, and even a bit affronted. "I am not. If I had to cover up Killian's messes, I wouldn't be here, I assure you. Whatever you think I'm saying to 'smooth things over', I am not. I really am impressed about your work – I did watch your first movie, you know."

She was absolutely speechless at that. "You did?"

"Yeah. I'm much more into independent movies – and I'm quite a fan of Midas' style..."

Striking up conversation with August Booth was surprisingly easy. They talked for quite a long time – they did share a mutual love for all cinema-related, and he told her a bit about his life as a musician, though she noted he did try not to go into much detail, surely noticing how her jaw clenched whenever he mentioned Killian's name.

She sipped from her drink, her food hunt abandoned for the moment. "So, how many albums you guys got out?"

"The last one on the market is our third. Apparently it's the best one we've ever done, according to The Rolling Stone." He rolled his eyes, as if it were a ridiculous statement. Maybe it was. She wouldn't know, anyway – he could tell her he had won thirty Grammy's and she would have no way to deny it. She really should consider paying attention to the crap MTV showed now and then. Or Ruby for that matter. "The songs in the last album were far more strong and personal, or so they say."

"Do you write them?" She was pretty curious about the songwriting process. It seemed to be something really deep and intimate – not that crap they played in clubs, of course. She found it could be a bit related with the work she did to keep in touch with a character she had to play.

He shook his head, smiling a bit. "I help Killian. He's the mind behind the writing. He has a gift for that." His expression turned a bit somber, but was quickly replaced by a smile and changed topics. "So, when is the movie premiere? I am really excited to watch it, you know. Graham said you were fantastic with the sword."

Emma had to laugh at this. "Oh, don't get me started with the sword. My arm will never be the same after that."

A snort came up from beside her, followed by a mocking voice. "That's what she said."

Oh no.

She was _so_ not ready for those.

She could see August groaning from his spot, extending his arm like he could physically stop whatever it was that was coming their way. Maybe 'Irish asshole ruins my night again'? It had a ring to it. "Killian, please..."

"Oh, don't worry August, I'm not gonna cause any trouble in paradise. I just wanted to compliment miss Swan – your hair looks way better this way, love. You should be thanking me for that." Smirk in place, Killian fucking Jones appeared beside her, hands in pocket – oh, look at that, no drink in hand. That was an improvement. It didn't make her any less weary of him, though.

Her hands balled into fists again. "Oh yeah, thank you, I _so_ wish I had asked earlier for champagne in my face to change my hairdo." She turned to August again, ignoring him. "Why do you put up with him again?"

August shrugged. "He writes the songs."

"That I do."

"And he _is_ the leader. We're all his puppets."

Killian suddenly lost his smirk. "I really hope you're saying that to try to impress the lass." He stared seriously at his friend.

August's expression softened. "You know I don't mean it. But you are kind of a key piece of it."

He seemed to relax at that, his demeanor changing again in a blink. "Yeah, well, I'm the hottest one. What can I say."

Emma watched the exchange, petrified. What the hell had been that? Before she could analyze any of it, her stomach suddenly growled, asking for more of those delicious canapés she had neglected him opting for chatting with the keyboardist instead. The one and only who raised his head and looked at her, amusement clear in his eyes.

"You hungry, Emma?"

"Oh, the endless possibilities of that line..." Killian fucking Jones really needed to shut up. Or she'd make him eat his next flute of champagne. She turned to him, putting her hands on her hips, scowl in place.

"For fuck's sake, I haven't exchanged more than ten sentences with you and half of them were freaking pick up lines – what are you, some kind of walking book of innuendos?"

He couldn't keep that smirk out of his face, now, could he? It seemed like it was stuck forever there. How was it even possible? "I'm sure you'd like to read me if I were, wouldn't you, darling?"

"For the love of..." Palm in her face, she motioned to August again. "I'm just gonna try to find my friends before I throw something at him again." She smiled – for real this time. "It was nice to meet you August, I really hope we see each other – and I'll remind Graham to tell you about the premiere, so you can come and watch it, I'm sure Sydney won't mind."

He inclined his head in acknowledgement. "It was nice talking to you too Emma. Have a great night. I'm sure we will run into each other sooner than later." He grinned and winked at her. Huh. This guy was actually nice. Not in a flirty way – in a, well, nice way. Gentleman, even.

Not her type to be honest, but he was friend material. Definitely.

Turning on her heels, she walked a couple of feet in the direction she believed her group had been before – wait, how long had she been talking to August? - until she suddenly felt a grip on her arm. "Not so fast, love."

He had to be kidding her. Not again. She breathed heavily, looking at his hand on her upper arm, ignoring the shiver that ran up her spine at the contact. _What the fuck was that. _She moved her eyes from his hand to his face, noticing, alarmed, how close they were standing. His eyes pierced hers.

"Let. Me. Go," she said between clenched teeth.

"Uh-uh. Not until I've had my say in this." Still holding her arm, he lead her to a more secluded spot in the hall, besides a sculpted fountain – what the hell was doing a fountain in there? Weren't those supposed to be in a garden, or something? Emma was so confused at that point she almost didn't notice that Killian fucking Jones had dropped his hand from her - but not without caressing the length of it, from forearm to wrist. She tried not to show the tremor she felt inside of her. Oh, shit. What the hell was going on?

Attempting to clear her head, she went straight to the point. "What do you want?"

He took another step closer to her. Why did he enjoy cornering her? "Oh, I just wanted to let something really clear, darling: what you did back there earlier, don't think I have forgotten."

She crossed her arms over her chest, defense stance ready. "Oh, like I won't forget what you did."

His gaze turned cold and menacing. "I already told you it was an accident, and at least I tried to apologize."

Emma felt herself snort. Oh, how lady-like of her. Whatever, he had heard her curse more times in the night they had met than Ruth had since she had adopted her.

"Sure you did, and then harassed and insulted me."

He matched her position, arms braced around his torso, his expression turning offhand. "Well, if you hadn't acted like a bitch and accepted my apology in the first place, none of that would have happened. I'd have you know I'm actually quite the gentleman."

At that, Emma had to laugh. He had balls alright. Gentleman. _Please_. "Oh, so you are not a pervert and a sociopath? I'm mesmerized by this. Please do tell me more." He saw him ground his teeth and adopt a mocking expression. "Look who's talking, Miss I-will-throw-champagne-in-the-face-to-the-first-gu y-who-says-something-I-don't-find-particularly-cha rming. You shouldn't be allowed into occasions like these – you're a danger to whomever you may encounter. Your bitchy mode could go nuts at any moment, and no one would be safe."

Eyes narowing, she considered him, as if inspecting a really rare species of creature. Where had this guy come from? "You actually think you're funny, right? Sorry for bursting your bubble, but you're not." She sighed and made an impatient sound. "Now, please, is this over? Can I go?"

"Of course not. I'm not leaving until you apologize for what you did." The smirk was back. Oh, how she burned to wipe it off his stupid face. Preferably in a painful way.

She was livid. "I am not apologizing. You deserved it."

"Oh, so is that what's gonna be? Good. Then, take kindly some advice, love:" He came closer to her, his lips grazing her ear. Emma wasn't exactly sure why she wasn't moving. She really shouldn't stand that close to him – it only gave him power over her. But if she moved or acted disgusted by the proximity, she'd also look weak to him. So, standing completely still, she waited until he whispered in a rough voice, "you're going down, Emma Swan. Down."

His face was so close to hers, she could nearly feel his scruff on her cheek. _Emma, you're in control. Emma, you got this. You've faced assholes like him your whole life._ This one just happened to be extremely attractive. And was kind of a rockstar. Whatever. Rockstar asshole.

And how had she dealt with idiots like this before?

Using their own medicine.

She inclined her head, letting her hair fall to the side and exposing her shoulder to his line of sight. She saw from the corner of her eye how his gaze lingered for a moment longer than necessary on it, and rapidly shifted to her face, scowling. Huh. He wasn't so easily distracted. He was good, she had to admit it. She wondered if it had something to do with the hundredths of girls who surely threw their selves at him given the chance. Following her plan, she locked her eyes with his and whispered in the same hushed tone he had used earlier to threaten her: "Am I?"

She was pleased to notice a quiet drop in his voice. "Oh yes, you are." Yeah, it was working. Baby steps, Emma. Get down the Irish asshole.

Maintaining the same quiet voice, her eyes fluttering, she added, "and how do you exactly plan to do that?"

He kept his eyes locked on hers, trying to avoid anything that would distract him. Damn. She couldn't be sure if he was falling for it or not. "Where's the fun in telling you? You'll just have to wait and see."

"Let me guess: will you write a song explaining how horrible I am or how poorly I treated you, à la Taylor Swift with every relationship she's ever had?"

His poise broke down and he openly smiled at her. "Now you're just being ridiculous, love."

"Am I?" She dared to match his smile. She had to admit the conversation was plain stupid at this point.

And, in that moment, they heard it.

A click. Followed by a dozen more, in rapid succession.

From a camera.

They froze in the spot, eyes locked to each other, too terrified of the implications of what had just happened. No, no, no, NO. This couldn't be happening. She saw how his expression matched hers exactly – and it didn't actually help to stare at it, even if it was kind of funny in a way. Her head snapped to her right, looking at the pap scurry away in the crowd.

She heard him sigh at her side. "Well. We're screwed."

That, they were.

* * *

_***hides behind pillow* Please don't kill me! **_

_**As it is my birthday today (ugh. Old, wrinkled nini is not amused by this. Whatever.), I present you this chapter! Ta-da! **_

_**I'm not sure how soon I'll be able to update after this - not until Monday, cause I'm getting visitors this weekend to celebrate (YAY!) and I won't be able to write. So here, have this at least, my lovely beans.**_

_**Hope you all have a fantastic weekend and I cannot thank you enough for your kind messages, reviews, favorites, alerts and so on. You guys are amazing. **_

_**P!nk was playing during this chapter's plotting. She gave me some ideas ;)**_


	5. Chapter 5: The Morning Later

**_Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or Once Upon A Time - the trolls Edward Kitsis and Adam Horowitz do. If I did, I'd make them canon faster than lighting._**

* * *

Getting out of his car, sunglasses pushed onto his eyes and cap on his head, Killian paced to Granny's cafe. He wasn't in the mood to cook anything today, and had even denied Aurora's plea to join her and Philip at their place for some delicious treat – the girl could cook, that he couldn't deny. But after much pleading and failed attempts at luring him, he dismissed the chance. He didn't have it in him to try to act chipper and cheerful – and he would most definitely ruin the mood if he showed up that morning. He was sure of it.

He had promised her he would join them the next day if the offer still stood – presuming that it had improved a bit. At least they'd be joined by the rest of the band, as they used to get together in one of their places to have weekly dinners or just hang out. In fact, when Philip had finally got Aurora to give him the phone so he could talk to his bandmate and he had reminded him about it, he had felt mortified to admit that he had been absent of these gatherings for weeks now. He had rapidly assured his friend he'd be there, and he hadn't failed to notice the bright tone in which Philip had responded to that. It made him feel even worse about it – he had been so caught up with his own mess, he had abandoned his lads. His very abandoned boys, left alone by one of their own. As if he didn't know how that felt.

He really was an asshole. He had to fix this.

But first things firsts. Food.

Opening the door to the restaurant, the cheerful jingling of the little bell mocking him as he looked for his usual seat at the end of the counter where Granny usually served him – and admonished him for his table manners, even though, as he had pointed out in countless occasions, they were impeccable. He had been raised to be a fine young gentleman since he was a kid, after all. And he had always been.

He had told the Swan girl exactly that the night before.

Ugh. _Why, why did you have to go there, Jones. _

Taking the glasses off and putting them on the counter along with his phone and wallet, he pinched the bridge of his nose, attempting to forget the upcoming headache that was sure to come. A headache with its own face and name, as it seemed. To be honest, if it were for him, last night's events would have been long forgotten as some random scene involving an over-sugared fangirl, an eccentric actress and champagne – a good story to recount now and then in the long studio nights or get togethers.

As it turned out, not everything went how he planned.

He wasn't sure what he had expected after the pap had left, running for his life with whatever idiotic article in mind to publish for the pictures he had taken. Of them both. Standing too close for conventional conversation. Smiling at each other.

He still was trying to put the pieces together of why he'd smiled at her in the first place, taking into account their first lines had been more like fists at each other. A battle of wits, not letting the other get the upper hand.

She was something, he would give her that. And she had... lovely shoulders.

He was rudely interrupted out of his reverie when Granny slammed a plate with the house special in front of him, followed by the cluttering sound of the fork and knife, a couple of napkins and a glass.

"So. I hear you had quite the fun night." Right as she said that, she was turning on the spot, grabbing a salt shaker and placing it along with the rest of his meal. He shook his head: she knew all of his quirks when it came to food - and she never forgot to mention how odd she found them.

"You pamper me too much, Granny." He poured some salt on his fries and munched one of them when he realized what she had said in the first place. Fry balancing on his lips, he turned wide eyes on her. "Wait – what? What do you mean?"

She fought an amused smile, though the crinkling of her eyes behind the glasses did a poor job at concealing her mirth. "Come on, Jones. I've been all morning trying to comfort my poor granddaughter when she found out. The 'he's like, 20 years older than you' isn't still drilled into her head."

Killian was at a loss of word. This suddenly-finding-out-crap-he-didn't-know-but-apparently-everybody-else-did was starting to piss him off. Royally. "Granny, do I look like I know what you're babbling about?"

She considered him and the smile disappeared, noticing he was serious. She walked to the side of the bar, where the little radio and a TV that had seen better days stood precariously. She rummaged around them and came back with a copy of a magazine. He groaned. He didn't even have to look at it to guess what it said – or the photo that would be grazing its pages, or if he was incredibly unlucky, the cover.

Granny left it in front of him. Yep, they'd made the cover. Not the biggest headline on it – under a modest _"Who's up for a Fairytale-love story?" _on the left corner of the page, there she was. The Swan Girl. Looking up at him under her lashes, trying to hide the smile that threatened to betray her.

Emma.

And he was in front of her, looking mesmerized, his own grin visible. For fuck's sake, he didn't even know how it was possible, but he would swear it looked like he was staring at her lips.

"The article is on page 15. Lucky you, Alice didn't rip it off to pieces when she read it." Granny commented from her spot behind the counter, serving some other client a cup of coffee.

"Alice has read this crap? For the love of..." He didn't even finish the sentence.

She looked at him, studying him carefully. "Hey – why are you so upset? It's not the first time they've linked you with some Hollywood tart, right? This is nothing new to you."

"She's not a tart."

Okay, that shouldn't have been the first thing to point out. Priorities, Jones. What the hell.

He tried to amend the slip-up.

"I mean, she's not like some of those they'd talked rubbish about in the past. She's an actress – and a good one. She's friends with a pal of mine, they worked together in a movie not long ago, and he talks wonders about her, so I don't really believe she's the kind of trash girl you could find in the business, you know?"

The patron just rose an eyebrow at him, as she poured some drinks in a couple of glasses. "Oh. I did read about her in the article. She seems quite the talented young lady. And pretty." She winked at him. He couldn't keep himself from rolling his eyes at her. "But what I'm dying to find out in fact is– did she really throw a glass of champagne at you?" She let out bark of laughter. "Because if she did, I would love to meet her and shake her hand. I bet you deserved it."

"How on Earth did they find out about that?" He clenched his teeth as he made to browse for the article. At that moment, his phone buzzed beside his arm.

Gold.

Fuck.

Killian had no idea what to tell the man. Not two days ago, they had been talking about ultimatums, damage control, and showing around other humiliating pieces of literature with his name printed in all of them. He had accepted full responsibility for the trouble he had caused his group, and now this happened.

Karma, anyone? He didn't really believe in that bullshit, even though Jefferson loved to spout here and there some bits about it that left him with a sour taste in his mouth whenever he did. He hadn't been the most exemplar man most of his life, but maybe the last months had been the cherry on top in a banner year.

"You gonna pick up or do I have to tell another stalker to leave you the hell alone?"

Getting back to reality, he heaved a sigh as he slid his finger through the screen to get the call. "'Lo?"

"Jones."

"The one and only."

"Where are you?" Huh. Gold didn't sound mad. Strange.

And potentially more dangerous for him. At least, when he knew he was furious, he was ready to deal with. But if the big chief suddenly got one of his weird moods where he went completely bananas when you least expected it – well, let's just say he was not really looking forward to a scene involving bipolar-Gold.

"Um, I'm having lunch at Granny's. Why?"

"Well, conclude your meal and join me - we have an appointment in three hours. My office, downtown. Don't be late."

"Woah woah woah – wait. What? You're not going to mention anything about that article from last night?" Killian was completely astounded. He expected him to start the yelling match at any moment, but – an urgent appointment, all of a sudden? Was he nuts? What the hell had been Belle feeding him?

"Oh, we'll be talking about that alright, you'll see, sunny boy. You'll see."

He was left with the beeping sound of the finished call. He kept staring at the phone in his hand, as in a daze, trying to comprehend what was going on. This had been one of the most awkward mornings in his life, and that was saying something in his book.

Worst thing, it seemed as it hadn't come to an end yet.

After munching the last couple of bites from his plate, lost in his inner musings about what could possibly mean that sudden meeting his manager had insisted he showed up to, he cleaned the dust off his hands on his jeans, picked up his things and made to leave. A voice from the counter stopped him in his tracks.

"So – next time will you bring your girlfriend? I wasn't kidding when I said I'd love to meet her. The champagne story, I just _have_ to hear it for myself."

He turned in the spot, throwing a smile at the older woman. "Have I ever brought a woman here? You're the only one for me."

She fixed him with a pensive look. "Well, you disappeared for quite a long time – I assume you were with someone during that...," Killian's expression turned somber and dark, "... but it's true, you never bring your ladies here." She held a finger at him threateningly. "But this one, I think she's different. And I have a wolf's nose, let me tell you, boy."

A snort escaped his lips. "We'll see about that, Mrs. Hunter. But I'd have that nose of yours checked, considering the girl is everything I'd never choose as a proper date."

"Right. Whatever keeps you sleep at night, Jones." A superior look took hold of her face. God, this woman would be the death of him.

Well, the second one. Apparently she could team with the swan so they'd end to ruin him together. Oh, joy.

"Bye Granny."

"See ya, Jones. Stay out of trouble, will you?"

He sighed. How he wished he could promise her that.

* * *

He had to run to get in time to the meeting. Hell, he had to _fly_. The traffic had been a nightmare and he had been too long at home when he had gone back to change and clean up a bit. Victor liked to joke about how he was a neat freak – thought he didn't see the problem in being organized. What if he liked to arrange his books in alphabetical order?

He even called him once _Monica Geller_.

That hadn't been pretty. Asshole.

He drove like a maniac until he got to the exit leading to the compound of buildings where the bureaucracy who worked for DEAL RECORDS held their ground everyday. He was jogging by the time he got to the closing doors of the elevator in his face.

Karma. Again. He was sure of it.

He would listen to Jefferson from now on. He fucking swore on it.

Waiting for the elevator to come back to the first floor, he tried to tame his hair, still a bit wet from his earlier shower, and shuffled nervously with his shirt. He wasn't sure why he had bothered with the change of clothes, now that he thought of it – he definitely wasn't trying to impress Gold, of all people, who had seen him in deplorable conditions countless times. But the way he had talked about the 'appointment'... it had struck a chord. He wasn't really confident of what he'd be up against here. A surprise interview to deny the declarations and pictures from the Savoy? Or about the other ones that had been feeding the press for the last year? He wasn't positive he was ready to talk about that. Not now, not ever.

And especially not to a fucking reporter.

A loud _ding_ announced him he was ready to board the now empty elevator. He entered and pressed the button, tapping his fingers on the polished bar surrounding the surface of the cabin and looking at his reflection in the mirror in one of the walls. He examined his face, the stubble he had neglected to shave, the piercing eyes. Still not sure what so many people meant about his charisma and looks. Even though he loved the attention and joking around about his success thanks to his 'genetic lottery', as his mates dubbed it – which he found absolutely priceless, given that all of them weren't that far ahead in the looks department – it made him rather jittery thinking about if what he'd achieved was due to his looks or his talent as a musician.

The doors of the elevator opened, snapping him out of his reverie, and in a dozen of long strides he found himself at Gold's door. Not even bothering to knock, he opened and let himself in, an apology on his lips as he set foot on the tastefully furnished room.

"Sorry I'm late, traffic was crazy on my way here – I really tried to get here on time, but you know how this is."

"Don't worry, we've not yet started as we're not all here." Gold got up from his seat and came over to his side, motioning to the visitor. It was a woman, maybe on her forties: classy outfit, shiny dark hair, high heels. She had a tiny scar above her lip, he noted – Killian had been fascinated by scars since he was a kid. He did sport one himself on his right cheek too, after all.

The woman smiled thinly at him, and held out her hand for him to shake. "Good afternoon, Mr. Jones. I'm Regina Mills. It's nice to meet you."

Killian shook her hand, not even trying to go with the silly gentleman act he usually put on for the ladies. This Mills woman didn't strike him as the kind to fall for his appeal. Oh, well – they were at Gold's office, it wasn't like he was going to try anything with her. She wasn't even his type. "Killian Jones, at your service, Mrs. Mills." He went with a sincere smile. There, that wasn't that hard.

If only his stomach wasn't tied into knots at the prospect of this meeting.

She shook her head and smiled again. "Please call me Regina. I believe we should be on more cordial terms if this is going to happen finally."

Well, that was new. If only he knew what the hell she meant by that. Who was this woman again?

"Ah..."

"Regina, I haven't told Killian as of yet about our idea." Gold motioned for her to sit in one of the two couches arranged in one side of the room, surrounding a glass table with a couple of vases and an ashtray on it. Gold so digged the minimalist look. Mrs. Mills – Regina, he reminded himself – sat in the closest one to the door, crossing her legs and laying her hands on her knees. Gold gave him a little shove from behind so he would sit himself in the other couch, and when he did, rather confused, he joined him. "Would you care to do the honors, or do you think we should wait?"

At that, their guest nervously checked her watch and made an impatient noise with her tongue. "Well, I don't know – my client isn't here yet, so maybe it'd be better if we sit up for a little until that? If it's okay with both of you, of course." She added that as an afterthought, still looking a bit out of place. Killian guessed she was not used to people not following her every bark.

Gold waved a hand at her. "Sure, sure, no problem. I rather think it'd be a preferable situation if both parties were here for that."

Killian was so disconcerted, he couldn't stay silent any longer. Who was this woman and what did she want with him?

"Hold on a sec – what is going on? I'm brought here to make some deal I don't even know anything about and you two start talking in riddles – could someone please enlighten me on what this is about? I thought you said we were here to discuss that damn article about what happened last night – and look, I am sorry, but it was not my fault, okay, the bitch exaggerated..."

"I do hope you not refer to my client in those terms ever again if you don't want to lose your tongue, Mr. Jones." He was rudely cut off by Regina, who sent him such a cold gaze, it made him flinch in his seat.

Wait, what?

"Come again?" He nearly sputtered, all thoughts leaving his brain at the remark. He saw Gold open his mouth, ready to lecture him about whatever fucked up plan he had designed, when a knock in the door was heard and a blonde head showed up.

"Sorry I'm late, but Regina – traffic was absolutely crazy today, and I had to pick up..." she stopped mid-sentence, staring at Killian as if he was an apparition.

She kind of was, too.

The Swan girl, rooted to the spot, fixed her gaze on him and her expression turned murderous. "You."

Killian hated to admit it, but he was a bit amused by her reaction. After the pap had taken the pics, they had barely spoken – in fact, she had just murmured a _"For fuck's sake, look what you did!"_ and stormed off into the banquet hall, following her friends, he had guessed. He hadn't tried to follow her – what for, really? It wasn't like it'd do any good; in fact, it could backfire and end in another row, bringing even more attention to them; so he had left in chase of his own mates and try to stay out of her way for the rest of the evening. And now here she was, again. He couldn't stop himself from baiting her. "What? No champagne to throw at me today, Swan?"

Oh lord, she was fuming. This was _priceless_. "You son of a..." She shook her head, appalled, at turned to her - manager, he supposed? - "Regina, what is this? You drag me out here when you _knew_ I had things to do to talk to this asshole? What the hell?"

Gold chose that moment to clear his throat and intervene. Good form. "Miss Swan, I'd like to ask you to please not start a fight in here – and stop calling names to my client, if it's not much a bother." Yeah, right. As if he didn't call him whatever he pleased at the first chance he got. Bloody bastard.

"Well, he did call her a bitch right before she came in..." Regina mused innocently.

Not helping, miss.

She turned again towards him and sent him the fakest smile he'd ever seen. A _fuck-you_ smile alright. Huh "Oh, how nice. Talking about me behind my back, huh? Lovely. Must work like a charm with the ladies."

He grinned in response. "Wouldn't you like to know, darling. Though I have to admit you seem to be strangely interested in my love life, Swan. Want a piece of this so soon?" He gestured towards his torso, eyebrow risen and waiting for the flush which was sure to show up at any moment.

...And _there_ it was. She had sat beside Regina on the other sofa, so they were both facing him and Gold in the other one, the glass table the only thing keeping them at bay. Killian was strangely glad it was there – at least, the blonde psycho wouldn't be able to get to him without dodging it.

"Please, as if I'd want to get crabs – don't think that because I didn't even know your lame band I don't know about your manwhore reputation." The lass was though, he'd give her that. And she cursed like a sailor. He liked that.

_Jones_.

"Sure you do. You look positively dashing in that skirt, by the way. Very fetching indeed." He looked pointedly at her uncrossed legs on the couch.

Note to self: she does have nice legs. Apart from shoulders.

The milky, luscious legs in question – _what was that?!_ - moved so fast it was disconcerting. The flush on her cheeks had spread to her neck now. "You fucking pervert – how come I didn't guess you'd say something among those lines, after the see-through dress incident." He was about to retort when Gold held up a hand.

"Enough, kids."

Both of them looked at the man with the cane, appalled at being addressed as children, but he ignored them. "I organized this meeting to discuss a possible deal we could struck after the – shall we call it 'episode'? - from last night. I don't even care what exactly happened, the matter stands in what it has brought with it."

Silence fell on the room for a minute. Then, Swan looked at him expectantly. "...you mean problems?"

Killian gave her an arrogant look. "You mean an obnoxious bitch?"

"If you so much as look my way I _swear_..." She was cut off by Regina, who put a hand on her leg – maybe she even was ready to lunge at him after all.

"Emma. Please. Let Mr. Gold finish."

"Yes, please. As I was saying, I'm not sure what exactly transpired between you two last night." He made a point to look at Killian for a long moment, as if blaming him of something. What the hell? Did he think he had harassed the girl? As he was about to call him out on that, Emma beat him to it. "Wait – you don't really believe something happened, right? That's ridiculous."

"I don't know Miss Swan, the photographs were kind of telling, if you ask me."

The blonde put her head in her hands, her voice muffled behind them. "We weren't doing anything okay. We were fighting."

"Is that how you call it these days?" The fact that Gold asked this without a trace of humor in his voice was even creepier than discussing the whole thing with him itself.

Emma scrunched up her nose, but decided to let it go and proceeded to explain the so-called infamous 'episode'. "Okay, first he threw champagne at me, then I threw champagne at him, then he threatened to ruin my life if I didn't apologize and _then_ the pictures were taken."

Gold scratched his head, as if he didn't quite get the gist of it. He couldn't blame him, really. "That makes even less sense than before, to be honest."

Emma threw her hands up. "I don't care, it's what happened!"

Regina put a hand on her shoulder, trying to calm her down. She looked pretty agitated, her hands fiddling with her hair, messing it around her shoulder – _don't, Jones, don't. Not the shoulders again_. He was torn between being amused or irritated at all of this.

Regina sighed and continued with the matter on hand. "Either way, we have found themselves in a position we cannot deny. You two have brought attention to both of you – as an item."

"Then we deny the rumors and _fin_. No harm done." He shrugged, as if it weren't such a big deal. He had been in the eye of the hurricane for a long time already, and had been victim of press rumors like these before. It wasn't such a biggie.

Emma looked like Christmas had come early. "Exactly! Thank you, Jones, your brain apparently functions. Sometimes. Congratulations." He could only manage a fuck-you smile worthy of her before Gold made a gesture with his head.

"I'm afraid you are missing the point of this meeting." He lifted his gaze and turned from his face to hers. "What Regina and I have discussed and are trying to say is that the media response to the possibility of a relationship between you two has been incredibly favoring. You have no idea how many calls, mails and offers we've been receiving this morning – and the fees they're telling us – from visits to our websites, your twitter profiles, God, even your name searching on the web – are ridiculously high. Think about it: Jones, you're the leader of one of the most iconic bands in the music industry – you've been out of your path lately, and you need the back up. You need to come back to the higher place, and bring the band with you. You owe them. And miss Swan, you're a talented, young new rising star. You're not yet used to this world's shady deals, believe me – this one over here and his group weren't either when they started. Having him by your side will give you a head start, and both of you can aid each other in fulfilling your professional goals as long as this remains. You've been in little projects before – and now with Sydney's project it looks like you are on the right path. Don't you think this could be greatly beneficial for you? Renown is always helpful, dear."

This time, the silence that hang on the room was so tense, it could have perfectly been cut with a knife.

It was Emma who broke the spell.

Surprise there.

She lifted an arm, putting a lock of hair behind her ear. He noticed it was trembling. "Let me get this straight. You want us to fake that we are a couple?"

Gold pursed his lips and glanced at Regina. It was her who answered, in a soft voice, as if trying to explain something really complex to a child. "Not exactly. More in the lines of signing a contract in which you accept faking such relationship."

Killian jumped from the sofa and marched to the door, ignoring Gold's sound of protest at his 'poor manners'. He didn't care. He couldn't. It was when he heard Emma's plea that he turned his head towards her.

"Where are you going?"

Her eyes wide and mouth open, she looked as panicked as him.

But he didn't want to think about what _she_ was feeling.

"I need a cigarette."

He left the door close behind him.

* * *

_**...so! After this long celebration weekend (thank you for your lovely bday wishes, you all are so freaking charming - see what I did there? - I just can't *mwah*) and the trauma post-Tiny, I bring good cheers - or, you know, just plain CS banter. **_

_**These two are ba-a-ack! I'd love to hear your thoughts about this. Yes? No? Crazy? Psycho? Whatever, I'm okay with. **_

_**Justin Timberlake's new song, "Mirror" - SO GOOD GUYS - helped me with this. Just putting it out there.**_


	6. Chapter 6: The Meeting

**_Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or Once Upon A Time - the trolls Edward Kitsis and Adam Horowitz do. If I did, I'd make them canon faster than lighting._**

* * *

Emma sat still, not knowing what she was supposed to do at that exact moment. What the hell was going on?

It had been one hectic morning alright, but this was on another level completely. She had gotten calls from a _very_ concerned David (_"__Who the hell is that Jones guy and why was he slobbering all over you in those pictures I swear to God if he even touched a hair on your head I'll hunt him down and kick his ass so hard he'll fly to his dear Neverland!"_), a somewhat calmer but no less curious Mary Margaret, an overly excited Ruth (_"__He's so handsome! Why didn't you tell me you had a date for that gala thing? And I thought you were going out with that Graham boy? My my, you got some telling to do, missy!"_), a very amused text from Graham, and of course an ear-shattering squealing Ruby to deal with for a very long hour on the phone. As if the night itself hadn't been memorable enough, – memorable as in I-don't-want-to-see-that-guy-again-in-my-life – now she had to solve all this mess she had been thrown into. And she was in no mood at all for this crap.

Of course, there had been one more people she had had to talk to after the 'episode', as Mr. Gold had so graciously named it.

Regina, naturally, had phoned telling her about this really urgent meeting she had to show up to or she'd skin her alive – actual quote that had had her gulping and assuring her immediately that she'd be there alright – and that she should better had read any of the scripts she had sent her earlier in the week. Emma hadn't known what to think when her manager had hung up – what had that been about? A sudden appointment downtown, in an unknown building she had never set foot before (well, that wasn't that strange, really – she was more used to movie sets and theaters, not the offices per se where the paper work got actually done) to discuss, what exactly? Those new scripts? Or something else entirely?

If this was about what had transpired between her and the Irish asshole, she was more than happy to just address the ridiculousness that it had entailed and how out of context those paps had taken the scene via phone, she had no problem with it at all. She hadn't had much experience with the press intruding her private life department – a fact that she was extremely grateful for, and hoped that stayed that way as long as she possibly could – though she guessed it wouldn't be too difficult to deny any rumors, or just plainly ignore them, seeing as she wouldn't be meeting the rockstar in question anytime soon.

Right?

Yeah, that hadn't gone exactly as planned.

Seeing those piercing blue eyes sitting on that couch had been like a frozen bucket of water being poured over her head. This couldn't be happening. How was it even possible that she hadn't been aware of the existence of this man for years and all of a sudden he was everywhere? She just couldn't wrap her head around it. Was he some sort of personal punishment or something of the sort?

Ugh.

Feeling the eyes of Regina and Mr. Gold on her didn't help at all in her current predicament. Nor had the asshole's sudden departure. She didn't really know why she had even asked him where he was running to – she had had the urge to run too, but, alas, she wasn't one to back down. She needed to get to the bottom of this, and hopefully get out of it alive – or, being less melodramatic, _sane_. But, if she were honest with herself, she would have felt better if he had stayed there too.

And she hated herself for it. What did she know about him, really?

And that was the whole reason why she was so freaked out about this. How could she even fake to be in a relationship with someone if she didn't even know the guy? She could count with one hand everything she could remember about the almighty, "oh-too-perfect" frontman.

She randomly remembered how Ruth always advised her about not getting involved with someone if she didn't know the guy's second name. Well, it wasn't like she was considering getting in bed with the bastard, right? Regina said it was fake dating. As in, dates put out so they'd be photographed, she guessed?

One way or another, in this case, she wasn't even sure if the name she got was his real one or an artistic one, for God's sake. The only things she knew for sure about him were kind of vague, now that she thought about it.

His name was Killian Jones... probably.

He was the main singer in a popular music band called The Lost Boys. A group she hadn't listened to before.

He was Irish... or so she believed, if his accent and apparent friendship with Graham gave away anything. (Oh God, see? She couldn't do this - she could have gotten the accent wrong or something. She didn't know where he hailed from!)

He was an asshole.

...He was stupidly attractive. There, she admitted it.

Oh, wait, add another one: apparently, he smoked, she thought scrunching up her nose. She hated smokers – even though in her younger years she had tried more than once the disgusting vice more than occasionally. Well, she had never claimed to be a saint.

"Miss Swan? Are you okay?" Gold's voice made her look at the front of the room with a start.

She stared back, a blank expression taking over her face. "To be completely honest, no I'm not. This was quite the bomb you dropped, you know. Not everyday I'm asked to sign away my fake love to a guy I hate." The bite in her words was palpable, but she didn't have it in her to stay polite at this point.

Regina sighed beside her and started with a soft voice, as if trying to calm her down. "Emma, I know we are putting you in a really difficult position." She couldn't help the snort that escaped her lips. "But think about what Mr. Gold said. You should at least consider it."

"Consider what exactly? What would this entail precisely?" She hated the fact that she was even asking about it. It made it sound like she was interested.

Which she wasn't. At all.

It was Mr. Gold's turn to answer this time. "Come on, Miss Swan, don't be so hard – it wouldn't be that bad. This can be as much as a commercial transaction as any – a quid pro quo of sorts, if you know what I mean: Killian will help you and you will help him." His voice dropped. "He needs your help."

Somewhat not convinced at the act the manager was putting on, she crossed her arms and retorted back. "I still don't understand why he does, now that you mention it. I don't even know the guy, I had no idea who he was until last night – don't get me wrong, I know your band is like, this huge deal or whatever but I honestly didn't even know who they were until my **psychotic** friend flipped out when he met him, so, yeah, I'm pretty lost here, 'cause from her reaction I'd say he has no problems at all – I'd even say everything's going peachy for him." Her rant was met with an scrutinizing stare from the older man, who considered her for a minute.

"Miss Swan, as you may well know, everything isn't black or white – and, especially in this business, not everything is like it seems." He sighed and sat up straighter in the couch, resting his hands on his knees. "Mr. Jones and his band got their earned recognition after their hard work years after they started – they weren't lightning-fame group, those which show up and disappear as soon as they started; they worked their asses off to get where they are now. They deserved it. They do what they love, they care for each other – and I do care about them too; they are my boys. And don't mistake me: this deal isn't something I'd offer just for the sake of it: I'm begging you to consider this because one of my boys needs it." He scratched the side of his face, an engrossed look taking over his features. "The last album they recorded – it was amazing. So pure. So... raw. The songs were so good, we all agreed that Jones had finally found his songwriting muse or whatever he called it. We don't know what it was, he wouldn't tell us."

August's words about the songs in the last album being their most personal and moving and how the frontman had been in charge of them echoed in Emma's mind. Huh.

"Either way, we were right at the top. Copies were being sold like bagels in a fair, the guys were interviewed every week, they had to present and give awards – and of course win most of those they were nominated for, sweeping out the competition. But something went wrong along the way for Killian in those last months – something he wouldn't share, though we all noted. He stopped composing, he was late for meetings or didn't even bother to show up – not just professional appointments, I'm talking about personal dates here." Was she imagining it, or did the man sound actually _hurt_ by this? Before she could relish in her musings, he continued. "He'd be moody and brisk, careless in his behavior towards the press. Thus, his reputation has been knocked down a couple of notchs, so to speak. He hasn't been the most saint of men, we all can agree on that, but, to be fair, none of us are – but not all of us have had to suffer the media breathing down or necks, controlling our every move."

As he looked at Emma right in the eye again, he clasped his hands in a loud shake. "I know this is hard for you, Miss Swan. I understand. I wouldn't ask this of you if I weren't sure this would work – I'm a very controlling man, dear; I do not take daring steps casually. I have thought about this, and I would never have approached you or Mrs. Mills if I believed this would be in no way beneficial for you or my boy."

He shifted his stare to her companion. "And of course, seeing as Mrs. Mills was on board when I contacted her, I thought you would be more willing to explore the possibility of this. Now – would you?"

She felt a huge headache coming up. Head in hands, she swallowed a scream. "I – I cannot say. I mean – I asked earlier, what would this entail? The fake dating thing? Would this mean I won't be able to, like, close off the option of a sane love life from now on if I make it look like I'm dating him? What if I suddenly fall in love with someone?" The idea seemed utterly ridiculous in her mind, but hey, who knew right?

She hated how small her voice sounded at that moment. She utterly abhorred it.

Regina rushed to answer her, taking her hand from her face and squeezing it. "Oh Emma, of course not – this should be a temporary thing. The details in the contract will stipulate all of this, but even though if this is some sort of ruse to help both of Mr. Jones and your career towards an audience and media approach, it won't have to jeopardize your happiness or your personal life."

Gold was nodding with his head at every word Regina uttered. "Of course, Miss Swan. You'd be surprised to know how many of the most well-known couples in this little world are the product of a contract such like this."

In the middle of her inner turmoil, she was too curious about this to let it pass. She lifted her head. "Really? Like who?"

He laughed, his shoulders shaking a bit with the motion. "Oh, come on. You really believe those kids from Twilight were in love with each other? Or those other two from that silly Disney movie, what was it called, with those ridiculous wildcats – ah, High School Musical or something like that? God, my kid made me watch it once and I'm still not over it." He chuckled, amused at his own memories.

Jaw-slacked – and keeping for a future reference that this guy apparently was a parent, she would never had guessed - Emma couldn't help but stare at the man with the cane, speechless. "Zanessa?! Really? It was all fake? Are you kidding me?"

He gave her an amused smile. "Not at all. Contracts like these are something really common – much more than you'd imagine, I'm sure. But it is something that provides a symbiotic relationship between two artists, and as long as it works during the time needed, it usually doesn't harm anybody, so why not?" He shrugged, as if he wasn't talking about lying to the entire planet about who you were professing your love to. Nah, no biggie.

She wasn't about to let a tiny detail she had noticed get by. "You said 'usually'"

"Excuse me?" He seemed surprised a that. Shocker.

Fixing her gaze on him, she enunciated clearly. "You said it usually doesn't harm anybody. What did you mean by that?"

He once again inspected her, as if she were a very rare object he'd want to add to his collection. Not that she'd be willing. "Well, we cannot predict what can happen – I mean, there had been cases where one of the parties, ah, how could we phrase it? Fucks up?" She was surprised at his frankness, and secretly glad. She was tired of people going around the bushes. "So well, maybe one of them is seen fooling around with a third party, or just being a mess and not playing his part in the contract – then, the relationship normally ends, as the deal itself has been violated."

She shook her head. That was not what she meant. "Yeah, I get that. But why would someone get hurt by that? It's just a professional contract, right?"

His eyes took a curious glint that out her on edge. "Sure it is, but sometimes, as you may know Miss Swan, we cannot control how we feel – and even if these loving relationships are actually a farce, it doesn't mean these two people don't end up caring for each other, even if it's on a friends level. Remember that these people have to spend a great deal of time together, and fraud or not, we are only human. I'm pretty sure if you gave Mr. Jones a chance, you'd find he's quite the charming gentleman and you'd enjoy his company. Most people do."

She had to chortle at his words. Sure thing. It wouldn't be her who told him her and Jones had a better chance at killing each other before they made a convincing couple. "Yeah, I highly doubt that but whatever."

Regina gave her a devious smile while she patted her shoulder. "Well, you _are_ quite the talented actress – you could take this as a really challenging job while you browse for this new project among those scripts you have neglected to read this last weeks." She was staring her down. Uh-uh. This was bad. How could this woman make her feel so rotten with a handful of words? Damn her!

No, she wouldn't agree to this just because she was being coerced in exchange for not doing her homework. She wouldn't. Nope. Not a chance in hell.

Trying to clear her thoughts, she put her hands together in front of her, lacing her fingers. "I – I don't know, to be honest. I understand where you're coming from, and I thank you for your concern, but," she looked at Regina imploringly "I'm not sure I can do this. I'd have to trust this man I barely know with my career, my reputation. Something I have worked for a long time, since I found out I wanted to be an actress. And you know how difficult it is for me to leave someone else take control of things – how the only person I trust with my life and the things I care about is me. Not after all I've been through. Not to mention how this could affect the people in my life." Her voice was getting smaller by the second. "I don't know if I'm able to do that."

Regina grasped her hands with hers. "I know Emma. But trust me on this – in case Mr. Jones accepts, he won't be able to do anything to harm any of yours without putting in harm his own affairs. And if he does in any case, I'll make sure to take him down. I promise." She made sure to put all the venom she had in every syllable she spoke, so Gold would not misinterpret it.

This was why she loved Regina. She was a fierce bitch.

Gulping for air – God, was she that anxious? _Of course she was!_ - she looked at Mr. Gold again. "Can I at least take a few days to reconsider your generous offer?" There, a bit of sarcasm wouldn't kill in a situation like this.

He gave her a thin smile. "No problem Miss Swan. In fact, I still have to talk to Mr. Jones' bandmates – they should be aware of what would be going on, if this finally takes place. It's as much their sake as it is yours and Mr. Jones', I'm afraid, so they have as much right to know."

She nodded at this. It made sense. She wondered what August and the other three guys would think of leaving their hopes and futures in her hands. Well, hers and the Irish asshole's. Oh God. She was already regretting this.

_Emma, you haven't signed anything yet. You haven't even accepted the deal, for fuck's sake. _

This was a bad idea. She just knew it.

Letting her shoulders drop, Emma ruffled her hair nervously. "Okay. Can I go to the bathroom? I need to freshen up a bit. And cool air. Lots of cool air."

Gold nodded understandingly, giving her directions with his hand. "Sure thing, dearie. At the end of this hall, on the left, you'll find the loo. And right after passing it, there's a lovely terrace from where you have quite the view, if you dare to go."

"Thank you. I'll be back in a couple of minutes." She got up, not before she had cleaned the sweat from her hands on her skirt, and left the already suffocating room. Or at least it had seemed suffocating for her.

That was what unexpected, life-altering offers did to oneself.

Finding the loo was unexpectedly easy, considering she was prompt to lose herself in any building she ever visited – as she had proved days before for the promo shoot with Graham and Sydney. Sighing with relief, she went in and ran to the sink, letting the water run in the basin and staring intensely at her reflection in the mirror. She was surprised to see she was pale as a ghost: had she freaked out so much at the prospect of this fake-dating thing?

Yep, she most certainly had.

Holding her hair with one hand and cupping water with the other, she let it wet her face and neck, not caring about her make up or whatsoever. It wasn't as if she had had time – or intention – to get dolled-up that morning. Her mascara was waterproof, anyway, she reminded herself with an inner smile at Ruby's insistence in using her star product (_"__You never know when you'll need to fake a good cry, right?"_). She spent a couple of minutes refreshing herself, trying to calm down the erratic beating of her heart after the prospect both of her and Jones' manager had laid upon them.

Leaving the bathroom, she was heading towards the office again when a gust of wind stopped her in her tracks. She turned around and saw the hall leading to the terrace Gold had mentioned. Shrugging to herself, she went to check it out. Those two could wait a minute more. After all, they weren't being forced to pretend they were in a romantic relationship of any kind with troubled musicians.

As soon as she opened wider the door to the little patio, the fresh air hitting her square in the face and making her eyes sting, she let herself out. She noticed the pots of plants, the little path made by pebbles making random designs on the floor and the stone railing in which the balcony ended. She walked over to it and leant out, grasping the cold surface in her hands. Closing her eyes and letting the wind play with her hair as it tickled her face, she inhaled deeply, not caring for the car honks or the occasional music-blasting car and swear words exchanged between drivers in the street below.

"Lovely view, wouldn't you say?"

Letting out a high-pitched squeal, Emma turned around, a hand over her heart and the other still grasping the railing with all her might. "What the fuck is your problem? You scared me so bad, I could have fallen, you asshole!"

Letting out a puff of smoke and looking utterly bored at her admission, he looked at her under his lashes. "Now, that'd have been something worth printing in that damn article, and not the champagne episode, wouldn't it?"

She was so affronted, she wasn't sure how to respond.

"Oh, yeah, I'm sure my death would sell way more numbers than our pathetic love fest from last night. Plenty more gore, now that I think of it."

He shook his head, unamused. "You are such a drama queen. Why do you take everything so seriously? It was just a comment, I didn't mean it'd be fine for you to die. Get a grip, woman, for fuck's sake. Relax. Live a little."

Crossing her arms over her chest, she looked at him defiantly. "Well, excuse me for taking everything you say as a personal offense against my person – it seems to be all you're capable of." She arched a brow at this, as if daring him to defy her. He just looked up at the sky, shaking his head and scratching his stubble.

"There you go again. I'm not going to apologize again for a fucking accident I had no way to predict in the first place; but baiting you is just so damn easy, it's ridiculous." He took another long drag of the cigarette, letting it all out in her direction, baiting her. Ah, there was that damn smirk again. She had missed it.

She hated it.

"Oh, then I bet this fake-dating affair is gonna be just magnificent." The sarcasm in her voice was palpable.

The cigarette stopped midway to his lips, blue eyes frantically looking for hers. "What do you mean – you have already agreed to it?"

Her own opening widely, she rushed to reassure him. "No! No, of course not. They're giving us a couple of days to think about it first."

He was grumbling under his breath, and between the fag on his lips and the wind, she couldn't even make out his words. "Nice touch that. How fucking considerate of them."

She was starting to lose her patience. "Look, I find this as appealing as you do right now, okay? But it looks like you need this – or so your guy told me back there..." She was cut up short when his presence was suddenly invading her space: he was there, blocking her, right in front of her. She could feel the warmth of his body nearly pressing against hers, cigarette forgotten in his hand and gaze locked firmly in hers and his expression warning and threatening.

"What did he tell you? What did he say?" His face was way too close, and she was sure he was making a huge effort not to grab her arms and shake her until she answered him. Not one to be intimidated, though, she stayed put where she was and threw him her best disgusted look.

"Hey, hey – calm the fuck down, buddy. Don't get it out on me, or it'll be your death notice they'll be printing tomorrow."

He seemed to reconsider his stance and took a deep breath, followed by one last drag of the smoke. Taking a step back from her, he directed his gaze towards her face again. "Okay. What did he say." A beat passed. Then, he added in what could be described as a whisper. "Please."

She was so astonished, she just looked at him for a minute, trying in vain to understand whatever that was going on inside his head. What could have possibly happened to him that he was so afraid they – or she - would find out? Was it so horrible?

Could she trust him with this knowing there was something she wasn't privy of going on in his life?

Sighing in defeat and hugging herself tighter, she decided to tell him. "He said you had all worked too hard to be now the laughing stock of the music industry just because you've fucked up royally this last year after whatever it is you've been through – he didn't say, cause he didn't know. He said your work in your last album had been amazing and that it'd be a pity you would waste all of that so this could help you guys." She searched his face, looking for a sign in his expression at her admission. He didn't show much – he just stared at her, jaw clenched and eyes hard and cold as icicles. "I know he wasn't trying to protect your secret – he actually didn't know." She tilted her head to one side, curiously examining him. "What was it? What are you so afraid of?"

He didn't as much as move a muscle for a couple of minutes. They just stayed there, staring at each other, assessing their stances and probing their limits. Finally, he dropped his gaze from her face to her crossed arms over her chest, and motioned at them with his head. "You're shaking."

She looked at herself. He was right, and as she was wearing a short sleeved shirt, she even had goosebumps on her forearms due to the crisp wind. She rubbed her hands against them, hoping the friction would ease the cold in some way. She lifted her gaze just in time to see him taking off his hoodie and offering it to her.

Not really knowing what to do, she just gawked at it like an idiot, sure that she was imagining things. What was he doing? As if he could read her mind, he rolled his eyes and groaned. "Come on, even if you think I'm an asshole and a pervert – I'm being a gentleman, as I promised I was. See? This is me being a gentleman. Me, gentleman. You, Jane. Me, offer you my hoodie. You, take it. It's not so difficult, really, lass. Try to keep up."

There, that was more like him. That, she could deal with. "You're such a kid, for God's sake." Shaking her head and reaching for the cloth, her hand accidentally touched his, and she nearly dropped the piece of clothing in shock at the electric current that passed from the point their hands had made contact. She looked at him, alarmed, and found him staring right back at her. She was about to say something when the door to the secluded patio suddenly opened and Regina's head peeked from behind, looking at both of them curiously.

"Oh, you found him! Good. We were wondering where you two were. We're not finished, you know, so we're waiting in the office." She seemed to notice his hoodie on Emma's hand, as his expression turned curious, but didn't make any remarks about it, which Emma thanked any God that may had been watching at the moment. She left then, her heels clicking after her and the door moving softly to the wind's rhythm, inviting them to follow her.

Emma sighed – all were sighs this day, weren't they? - and put the hoodie on. It was quite big on her, she surely looked ridiculous – though she really didn't mind, in fact. She would never admit it – least of all to _him_,- but she loved wearing guys' clothes. It made her feel protected, safe. Home. Especially the scent that clung to them.

She heard a quiet laugh and braced herself for the imminent taunt that was to come – after all, this was Killian fucking Jones, right? What would she expect? "Look at you: you're a Lost Girl now."

Emma locked eyes with him, completely lost. "What?"

He nodded to the hoodie. When she looked down, she saw the logo decorating the place where her heart should be: a flying vessel sailing through the silhouette of the moon. She could make out five shadows aboard – each one of them representing the members in the band. She scrunched up her brows, examining it carefully and asked in a wondering tone: "Which one is supposed to be you?"

He barked out a laugh, clapping with his hands. "Swan, come on – you know the answer to that one, right?"

She lifted her eyebrow in response. Oh, the ego of this guy knew no limits, did it? "The Captain?"

He seemed to ponder her answer. "Actually, yours is better, I was gonna say the one with the biggest..."

"UGH leave it, just let's go, they're waiting for us." She put her hands up, exasperated, moving tendrils of blonde hair out of her eyes and pushing them behind her ears as she made her way to the door. As they walked back to the office, right before they entered the room again and Regina and Mr. Gold welcomed them back, ready for the second assault, she realized something.

He had never answered her question.

* * *

_**...thoughts? **_

_**Happy Valentine's Day, my fabulous friends! As a little present for you, here it is the next chapter of the story. We needed to hear what was going on inside of Emma's head this time - and boy, does she need to think about this. Poor bb. **_

_**I cannot thank you enough for your kindness (OH SNAP A WILD KILLIAN JONES' QUOTE APPEARED) (I CANNOT HELP IT) and your reviews, follows and favorites make me squeal in delight like a 4year old in Disneyland. Well, or a 24 year old in Disneyland for that matter.**_

_**EDIT: the reference to Robsten/Zanessa is, of course, TRUE. **_

_**...**_

_**Kidding. I guess we'll never know, but they are two of the most rumored fake relationships in the business (I checked - I wasn't sure which examples would be better to use, and Brangelina was giving me sdfgjkhwhrakgtkuyf feels so yeah. Sorry if someone got offended! Don't blame me! )**_

_**Ellie Goulding played while I wrote this. Damn that woman. I love her. **_


	7. Chapter 7: Boys and Girls

**_Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or Once Upon A Time - the trolls Edward Kitsis and Adam Horowitz do. If I did, I'd make them canon faster than lighting. _**

As they approached Gold's office door, Killian couldn't help but observe the girl – woman – beside him. Her hair was a mess after all the tugging she had probably got going during the reunion earlier, no makeup whatsoever on her face, eyes looking ahead of them and her hands buried in his hoodie's pockets. _His_ hoodie. He really didn't know how to feel about her wearing it – well, he _had_ offered it to her, he couldn't blame her for accepting it and actually wearing it, the poor lass had been hugging herself so tight out there she had looked like she might break – but it had brought a wave of recognition through him to see her with it.

And, to be fair, she damn knew how to wear it.

As if sensing his eyes on her, she turned her head and looked at him with a curious expression on her face. Not wanting to look like a puppy-eyed idiot, he gave her his trademark smirk. "Just admiring the view, dear." The curiosity left her and she rolled her eyes. Just as they got to the door, he turned the handle and made her a gesture to pass before him. She sent him a confused look - again. He repressed a groan.

"I believe I am going to have to drill the _'I am a gentleman'_ line in your brain, won't I?"

She shook her head, ignoring him and walked to sit beside Regina's side on the couch. The two reps had been talking in hushed tones between them until they had opened the door, waiting expectantly for them to join them. Gold sent him a questioning look, but didn't say a word. He scratched the back of his head and joined him in the boys' couch with a sigh, amused to notice that Emma had decided to cross her legs this time.

Smart lass.

Regina put her hands on the table and looked at both of them. "So, I guess you two have come to an understanding?"

He tried to meet Emma's eyes across the table between them, but she didn't even acknowledge him. He could see how her fingers were digging in the sleeves of the hoodie. "Not quite. I'd still like to know more about the contract – it is all so vague, what if I suddenly find myself trapped in this and can't do anything to get out?"

Trying to ease her nerves, he guessed, Gold made a reassurance motion with his hands. "Ask whatever you want, Miss Swan – and whatever requirements you or my client may find, we'll make sure they're rightly stipulated in the contract. Do not fess over it."

He couldn't help but chuckle when he heard her grumble under his breath an "easy for you to say." He started drumming his fingers on his knee, leaving her the third degree that he was sure she was dying to start after this whole thing was brought up.

"Yeah well – for starters, I would like to know who would we be allowed to tell this? I don't know if I could do it if I couldn't discuss it with someone." She turned worried eyes towards Regina. She seemed absolutely horrified of the prospect.

"I understand, Miss Swan – it'd be isolating not to be able to share this with anyone, so you'd be able to choose a number of people you feel close to tell – they'd have to sign a similar contract swearing secrecy to the deal itself, of course, but there'd be no problem whatsoever."

He saw her shoulders slump in relief, letting an audible sigh out and the tightening in her arms relaxing. He smiled to himself, betting who she'd tell: the crazy red-lipped brunette he had met the night before, Ruby was it? They seemed to be pretty close, so he guessed she'd make the list. He wondered whom she'd tell apart from her – any family? Sisters, brothers, parents? He didn't even consider the possibility of her being attached to someone, as it wouldn't make sense to propose such thing as a fake relationship in case she was. He was waken up from his musing when he heard Gold continuing his speech.

"...So whoever you may want to tell, we'll contact them and arrange a meeting – with you, if that's your wish, and everything'll be on the way. Anyone in mind?"

"Um. I'd have to think about it, but for starters – my best friend Ruby, my brother and his fiancé."

Ha. Spot on. Self-five.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Regina eyeing nervously the blonde girl and ask her in a low voice, "what about..." but Emma shook her head imperceptibly, closing whatever subject she had been trying to bring up.

Huh. Odd. Who would they be talking about?

"And what about you Jones?"

He raised his head to find three pairs of eyes focused on him. Feigning indifference, he slumped a bit on the couch and raised his arms behind his head, posing as if nothing in the world could bother him at the moment. "We'll have to tell the boys, right?"

Gold nodded. "Of course. We're having a meeting after this to explain the situation."

"Then I'm okay with whatever they decide."

Emma raised her head and looked at him, astonished. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "As these two have surely filled you in, I have not been the best boy in town. We could say I 'ruined it'. If this deal is supposed to help the band, I am in no position to deny it, am I?" He stared right at her. "So yeah, I'll do whatever they think is right. If they ask me to do it, I will."

Nearly sputtering, she waved her hands in the air. "But it's your life! It is your personal life they're gonna wave around and write about and all that crap!"

"You're really new to this, aren't you?" He was amused alright. She was like an angry kitten, ready to bite his finger off. "It was my personal life being displayed everywhere and my actions that brought us to this point. So yeah, I am not really concerned about it. At least now I know what I am walking into."

She seemed to deflate a bit after his confession. She passed a hand through her unruly curls, and sighed. Again. Didn't she stop sighing? Ever? "Okay. So you'll tell your band. Anyone else?"

Killian raised a brow at Gold. "I guess the guys' people are off limits?"

Gold have him a wry smile. "Wouldn't it be fun to see how Aurora takes the news? Or little Grace?"

He let one of his arms fall on his face. Oh God. This was going to be torture. "I don't even wanna think about it." A sudden thought crossed his mind. "Wait. What about Belle?"

"Oh, Belle will help me with the writing of the contract – she'll be on it. I bet she'll love it."

"Fantastic," he muttered under his breath. Well, at least he wouldn't have to pretend around most everybody. Everybody he gave a damn about, that's it.

"Any other questions? We could just give you the contract in a couple of days – it will answer most of your doubts and then we could discuss it."

He saw Emma fumbling nervously with the sleeve of his hoodie. He was getting worried she might tear it or something, she was fiddling with it so much. He wouldn't be too happy if she did, no matter how well it suited her. "Actually, there was something I wanted to ask."

Regina nodded, encouragingly. "Shoot away, Emma."

Gulping visibly, she recoiled from his gaze as if it would burn. He tried not to be bothered about it – in fact, he was rather curious as to what she had in mind. "I know we'll have to, you know, go out on dates and all, right?"

"Yes. And I'm sure we could schedule some events you could show up together – maybe the premiere of your latest project, the awards the boys will have to attend sometime in the next month, or a concert they'll be giving in a couple of weeks here downtown. Is that what you meant?"

Even if he tried not to show it, his stomach had turned into knots just as he tried to picture in his mind these scripts. Oh God. He hoped Gold didn't make her show up at everything they had planned next.

Who was he kidding, of course he did.

He turned to see how her face had gone unnaturally pale after Gold's words. So she wasn't that pleased with the plan altogether. That made him slightly calmer, if he were honest with himself. Misery likes company, as they said.

"Erm, yeah, I guessed that. And how the dates would be a bit, like, orchestrated, I suppose." He saw Gold nod at her, encouraging her to continue. He could swear he saw her brace herself for whatever came next. "But – you know, we won't have to... you know... share a place, or anything like that, right?"

He was so taken aback he didn't even respond to that. Regina beat them to it. "Oh Emma, no, of course not! What would make you think that?"

The girl could blush alright. He even felt a bit bad for her, if he weren't partially amused and freaked out about her question. "I-I don't know okay, I'm not used to this – I don't know how far we are supposed to go."

"Oh lass, I know it'll be difficult not to throw yourself at me every time we see each other but come on, I believe you can actually _try_ to tame your hormones around me, right?" He winked and offered a flirtatious smile in her way. She seemed to come to her senses – or, at least, to her no-taking-your-crap self, that is, and gave him an unimpressed look.

"Yeah, captain innuendo, I'm sure I'll be fine around you." She played nervously for the hundredth time with a lock of her hair, putting it behind her ear. "Maybe not sharing places or something too far gone, but I imagine there'll have to be public kissing?"

Now, that was an interesting thought. As much as it pained him to admit it, the Swan girl wasn't bad.

Who was he kidding, she wasn't bad at all. He hadn't had the opportunity to address her in detail as he'd normally do with a potential candidate for a night – he didn't want to think about relationship material, not at all- but for what he'd noticed since the previous night's meeting and today, she had plenty of material working for her. Starting with the lovely shoulders and legs. And rocking male clothes.

His, exactly.

"You aren't wrong, Miss Swan. In order to give this realism, the media will need proof or you'll be labelled as a fraud."

"I can't imagine why." He rolled his eyes and hid a smile. Oh, the poor paps. What a show they'd have on their hands if this was a go.

Blondie there didn't look so amused – she seemed to get even more frantic by the moment, her leg bouncing on her knee at high speed. This girl was _so_ caffeinated. "So – a couple of kisses and smiles and that's it then?"

"Swan, I'm so flattered – won't you let me play footsie with you?"

"Shut up." Eyes blazing, Emma appeared ready to give him a bit more of whatever was inside her mind until Regina interrupted her.

"Please, Emma, Killian: calm down. Just... let's think about other celebrity couples out there. Think about the pictures the media gets. Think about how private or public they may want to be out to the world. Even if a lot of them try to cover their personal lives as much as they possibly can, it is really hard for the paps not to get something out of it – hand-holding, gazes interlocked, laughs shared, a stolen kiss, whatever; you call it. It's not always about those gestures being caught by a camera or a 'source', but in this case, we'll have to give them something. The teasing is fun," At that, he raised a brow at her, amused, and catching it, she answered with an exasperated look, "the _media_ teasing is fun, but at one point or another, we'll have to release some kind of official statement or further proof about your personal involvement with each other, or this whole thing would be for nothing – rumors are spread everyday, but what this deal is about isn't a speculation. It's supposed to be a given. A real tie between you two. So..." She left the words hanging, expecting them to fill the void she had left with her statement.

They both got the gist, that was for sure.

He had already declared what his game plan was – talk to the boys, and whatever they decided, he'd do. The faking thing was still a bit blurry in his mind, but knowing Gold – and for what he had seen of Regina – they wouldn't have much problem; those two appeared to have every tiny detail organized and controlled. He could see them planning everything excitedly, like children designing their future birthday party.

He was much more curious about what Emma had to say about all of this.

Gold turned to him first, cutting the ominous silence that had fallen over the room after Regina's words. "So – you decided anything yet? Or need some days to mull it over?"

He didn't meet his eyes – just shrugged and repeated his words form earlier. "I told you – if we are going to meet the guys now, we tell them and if they think this is the best course of action, then I'm in. I don't have anything else left to lose, so."

After the words had left his mouth, he realized how bittersweet they had sounded. Damn. What was it with him lately? Smooth, Jones.

"And Miss Swan?"

Unconsciously, his eyes searched hers, and realized she was looking at him as well. Even feeling rather exposed after his outburst, he didn't back down and stared right back at her, wondering what she was thinking at that moment. Cocking her head to the side, she addressed Gold. "If you don't mind, I'd like to go to meet the band."

Well, that was unexpected.

"Excuse me?"

She shrugged, locks of hair falling from the messy bun she wore. That girl's hair had a life of its own, he was sure of it. And it was stupidly shiny. "Why not? We're all in this together, right? This is an arrangement made to help both mine and their career – so it'd make sense I'd talk to them, not just Irishpants here."

He tried to look insulted at that, though all he wanted to do was crack up. He couldn't remember all the names she had called him already. "Did you just call me Irishpants?"

Regina stopped the banter once again. "Gold – I believe Emma is in the right here. Why doesn't she join you in the studio, talk to your clients and then, when you and Belle have the final draft of the contract, email it to them so they can read it and make the final decision? We'll meet again in case they go for it, and we'll have them and the rest of the involved parties over – as in the band and Emma's family – for the signing." The three of them gawked at her, and she made an impatient sound. "Yes?"

They both answered with fumbling "yes" and "rights" until she looked pleased with herself enough to make a shoo motion with her arms. "Okay, so if it is alright with all of you, I'll leave the band intervention to you guys. Emma, call me later and tell me all about it or if you have any idea or request for the contract, okay?" He saw Emma nod at her, trying to give her a smile but not succeeding at all. Even though she had been the one asking to join the band reunion, all tough and cool, he could see she was anything but.

She must have been terrified.

Not even thinking about it, he turned to her again. "Swan – don't you want to call someone to come over too?"

She had gotten up from the couch as Regina had let herself out after giving her a brief hug; she continued fumbling with the hoodie and bit her lip. No red lips, as her friend's, he noted. "Um, my brother and her fiancé are... busy right now, I don't think they could make it even if I tried."

He rose an eyebrow. Busy? He went for the obvious choice left. "What about your crazy friend then? I'm sure she'll be all for a meeting with the lads."

She put her hands on her hips, scowl in place directed at him. "Nice way to start a fake relationship, dude, calling your fake girlfriend's friend crazy."

He smirked at her. "Oh, but we haven't signed anything yet. Eager, are we, Swan?"

Making this girl blush was slowly becoming his favorite pastime. Eyes blazing, she turned on the spot and fumbled her phone from the back pocket of her skirt, dialing and walking out of the room to talk to Red Lips.

Ah, how he loved nicknaming everyone.

After a couple of minutes while he and Gold discussed possible outcomes of this crazy plan of his, Emma came back, still tapping on the phone screen, a smile hidden on her mouth. Even though making her barking mad for the moment was the most fun he had had in ages, he had to admit she had a pretty smile. He wouldn't mind making her laugh if she gave him that smile.

_Ugh, Jones, you are such a sap, for fuck's sake._

She finally looked up from the phone and nervously tapped her nails on the plastic case of the device. "Um, is it okay if I first go pick up Ruby and we'll join you guys wherever you are having your super secret musician reunion?"

Gold smiled at her, went to the desk they had neglected to sit around and scrawled something in a loose piece of paper, giving it to her with a flourish. He had always been one for theatrics. "This is the address to the studio and my number – I don't think you'll find any problem to get there, dearie. If you have any problem, give me a call. When you get there just tell Belle – the petite brunette you'll surely find in the reception area, she usually uses the computer there for her research – that you're to see me and the boys, okay?"

Looking like a deer caught in the highlights, she took the paper from him, reading it over and uh-huhming under her breath. "Okay. Belle, ask to see you guys. No problem."

The old man couldn't hide the cheer in his voice. "It's a deal then."

She leaned over the couch to take her purse from the couch, meeting his eyes in the process. She looked like she was about to say something, but thought better of it and shook her head, ready to go. When she was about to reach the door, she froze in place and turned around, giving him an embarrassed smile. "Oh my God, the hoodie, sorry, I nearly forgot!" She mumbled, hurriedly unzipping it.

He waved his hand in her direction. "Nah, keep it til we meet you there – you'll freeze in that flimsy shirt, Swan."

She seemed unconvinced, fingers still gripping the zip. He didn't know why he found it so endearing, her standing there debating if she should keep the piece of clothing or not. "You sure?"

"Yeah, no problem. Just – don't sell it on Ebay or something." Giving her an amused smile, he motioned for her to leave again until she turned on her feet and this time left, the door's click echoing after her.

Wait.

She was going out of the building wearing his hoodie.

Could this be seen as something like what Regina had talked about earlier? A peek for the public about how there might be something going on between them both? But they hadn't even agreed to anything yet – even though everything pointed in that direction. Now he regretted lending it to her. But what was he supposed to do? The girl had been cold, for God's sake. Gold's voice interrupted his troubled thoughts involving paps, articles and blonde hair spilling from said hoodie.

"And what a gentleman you are, Jones."

He didn't even bother to look at his manager. "Piss off."

* * *

"Look who's here!"

Victor was the first one to notice him, opening his arms in his direction when he got into the studio. As August and Philip lounged on the couch, the guitarist stood before them, instrument in hand and guitar pick on his right hand, ready to set it off. A wave of nostalgia hit him and before he even thought of his actions he was marching to the opposite wall, where the guitars and basses were arranged in line. He picked his up, hanging the strap across his back and feeling the familiar weight of it agains his chest. He inhaled deeply, savoring the feeling.

He had definitely missed this.

He noticed how his friends were looking at him with a curious expression on their faces, and looked up to meet their gazes. Victor's eyebrows were raised, an amused smile playing on his lips as he waited by his side, expectantly. No words exchanged, August walked to the keyboard sitting against the other wall, and Philip followed his previous path picking up his own bass. Smiling to himself, and nodding to Victor, he quietly drummed a random chord, not bothering to use a pick. The guitarist followed, and soon the four of them were jamming on, ad-libing whatever they felt like, going from one of their songs to another from their favorites from epic bands they had always idolized since they were kids – Beatles, Aerosmith, The Rollings.

He hadn't felt this free in a long time.

They were so caught up in the moment, while Philip gave a terrific solo, they nearly jumped out of their skin when a shriek was heard from the door. "Uncle Killian!"

He stared at the small figure outlined against the light from the hall, blinking in surprise. Then, he broke into laughter and hung the guitar on his back so he could open his arms for his young groupie. "Gracie! Come here lass, I've missed you!"

Grace Hatter was everything a father could ask for: she was smart, incredibly sweet, loyal, affectionate and honest. She had the cutest bottom nose and almond shaped eyes, long chestnut locks reaching her middle back. He would never stop teasing Jefferson about the dreaded day when he'd have to carry some sort of weapon to back off future suitors.

Jefferson didn't find it so funny. Douche.

"I've missed you too!" She came running to his arms and hugged him with all her might – not much for him, mind you, but she was quite intent in not letting go, so he carried her princess-style and walked back to the couch, sitting with her on his lap. Jefferson stood at the door, cracking a smile at his daughter's antics at his 'favorite uncle', as she liked to call him. As far as the kid went, they all were a huge, close, happy and perfect example of family; screw kinfolk or blood relations: this was hers and since the day they signed their first contract, each one of them had become her uncle. That of course had included Belle and Aurora, whose first exchange when they had met in the studio or at their _petit comités_ had been "Do you mind if I call you aunt?". Unleashing those puppy eyes of hers, no wonder they hadn't been able to resist. Though he still couldn't find a reason for not wanting to be a part of that girl's life.

Considering she had lost her mother when she had been no more than four or five, she had been pampered and doted since he had run into Jefferson and started playing on and off in occasional pubs and clubs. When they formed the band itself, everything went uphill and little Grace was sitting in frontrow for the show The Lost Boys lived from amateur relevation band to successful, award-winning group of the year.

She considered herself their first fan. They had agreed since she proclaimed such a thing.

While Grace rabbited on and on about all he had missed in her life since he had been lost in combat those past weeks, he noticed his mates sitting in the chairs around the table talking among themselves. He knew they were wondering what this new meeting was all about.

Should he wait for Gold or just get on with it?

As he was debating wether to spit it out or not – wait, he couldn't tell them with Grace right there, right? They had accorded she could not know, she was too young to comprehend the responsibility of such a contract - when the door opened once more. Hoping to find Gold ready to bark orders at everyone, he kept pulling at Grace's hair, trying not to mess the braid she had so carefully plaited. When he was met with silence, he raised his face to find Emma Swan and her brunette friend standing frozen in the doorway, jaw hanging open and rendered speechless.

Still in his hoodie, might he add. Though she had changed into a pair of black leggins. He had to confess he missed the skirt.

Well, leggins had other advantages – especially outlining the perfectly shaped form of her legs and backside...

She stood there, hand in the door and eyes locked on him and the girl on his arms, as if she couldn't believe the scene right in front of her. He frowned, confused. Why did she look so shocked? It wasn't like he couldn't be a good guy. Or did she think he was some kind of monster who shouldn't be allowed near children or something? He might have been easy with the ladies, but as he had repeated more than once, he was a gentleman – and when he cared for someone, he'd protect them with nails and bites. And Grace was one of those he'd kill for, that was for sure.

But why wasn't she saying _anything_?

"Oh my God. I can't believe this is happening. I can't believe this. Emma, please pinch me."

Well, that did it.

Stepping out of her stupor, she blushed (again) and quietly knocked on the door, as if asking for permission. "Is it okay if we come in?"

Her friend couldn't contain her excitement, almost jumping on the spot. "Yes, please?"

Grace spun around to look him in the face after taking a good peek at the girls and quietly whispered in his ear "Do you know them? They are pretty." He chuckled under his breath and indicated them to come in. As he murmured back to Grace something about guests and work stuff, he saw August get up from his chair and walk to Emma, extending his hand shyly.

"Hey Emma, I didn't know you were visiting us so soon."

Emma shook it and smiled openly at him. "Yeah, neither did I – but hey, it did surprise you, right?"

"You have no idea. Still waiting for an explanation, Killian." He rolled his eyes as his friend gave him a disapproving frown. He was such drama queen, he couldn't stand not knowing what was going on.

"I was waiting for Gold to explain, you fucking dimwit."

A horrified gasp came from his lap."You cursed, uncle Killian!" He tickled her, kissing the top of her hair. "Sorry, m'lady. It won't happen again."

He heard how Ruby – it was Ruby right? Damn, was he bad with names – murmured something to Emma, and she gave the brunette a withering glance and a poke on her arm. Oh, how he wished he knew what she had said.

Philip chimed in in that moment, streaming a couple of chords in his bass. "Um, excuse me, is someone actually going to introduce us? I'm a bit lost at the moment."

"Yeah, you're not the only one, mate." Victor piped in from his seat, having left the guitar on the seat beside him. He was visibly checking out the Ruby girl, he spotted – oh, for the love of God. Couldn't he keep it in his pants, at least today?

August took matters into his hands - exchanging names and handshakes between the members of the group and the two newcomers. Finally, Ruby turned to him and smiled. "Hey there, stranger. How was it stripping off that champagne smelling tuxedo, huh?"

He gave her an unamused look. "You could ask that to your friend – I hear she got it first."

Emma seemed about to say something about that – as always - when Grace miraculously intervened, probably stopping another scathing line. "I really like your hair."

Yep. That was how Grace made you putty in her hands.

Ruby grinned down at the kid in his arms. "You're so sweet. But I really like yours much better!" She offered her hand to her. "I'm Ruby, and this," she pointed to her friend with her other hand over her shoulder, "is my friend Emma."

"I'm Grace." She shook her hand and smiled. "Are you two going to sing with The Lost Boys? Is that why you're here?"

He saw Emma advance until she was kneeling in front of them, eyes at the same level as his niece. She shook her head vehemently, laughing quietly. "Oh, no. You don't want to hear us sing, Grace. You really don't."

Ruby seemed offended and smacked her friend's arm. "Hey! Talk about yourself – after that incident in the dorms I know you have that silly trauma, but I'll have you know I do have an _awesome_ voice."

Victor didn't miss a beat at that and wolf-whistled from his seat. "You should prove that, love." This guy had no shame.

Killian kept staring at Emma and smirking contently. "No please, tell us more about how Swan's voice is rubbish. What is it about a trauma and a college story? You just _must_ tell us, dear Ruby."

"Oh well... it was..."

"RUBY. Shut up."

They all became silent as the sound of the door opening came from the other side of the room, revealing Gold and Belle. They took in the bizarre group of people gathered there, their expressions cautious. Finally, Gold entered and politely motioned to the girls to come over to the serious-conversations-table they all shared. "Belle, could you please take Grace out for a bit? So sorry Gracie – we have to talk about boring stuff. Adult stuff. Stupid stuff, really." He said while he patted her hair.

She sighed, defeated, and turned to him. "Okay – but when I'm allowed to may I come back?"

"Of course dearie."

She got up from his lap and kissed Jefferson's cheek before taking Belle's hand, who patted all their shoulders affectionately and waved to the girls. They both left to the reception area, where Belle would surely find something for the kid to amuse herself for the time they'd have to spend there.

"Is she yours?" Ruby asked Jefferson. He considered her and nodded, a proud smile on his face. "She is adorable."

"Thank you – and tell her yourself, I'm sure she'll be more than pleased about it." They all laughed at that. Grace adored compliments – as any nine year old would.

They all turned to Gold as he cleared his throat, who sat at the end of the table, clasping hands. He breathed deeply and addressed the group once more. "So – where should we begin?"

* * *

_**Hi there! New chapter's here and hopefully it won't be too much of a disappointment ;) A lot of you were waiting for a scene between the band and Emma, and though I'd thought I may leave that for another chapter, I guessed it wouldn't hurt to include it here. Also, how I had missed Ruby. Dang, I love that girl.**_

_**And Grace gives me *all* the motherly feels, for God's sake.**_

_**Hope you like it and tell me what you think about it - even if it's to keysmash. Or ask for Killian's hoodie. No judgement, my friends**_

_**Metric was on repeat while writing this - "Speed the Collapse" especially. **_


	8. Chapter 8: The Decision

_**Disclaimer: None of this characters are mine. No Killian Jones, no Emma Swan, no Graham, no Ruby. Nope. If they did, we'd all hang out and I'd probably spend my days staring at their prettiness and perfection. Sadly, they all are owned by Adam Horowitz and Edward Kitsis, along with OUAT. Bastards.**_

* * *

_What the hell am I doing here._

She still couldn't wrap her mind around that question. But, after reliving every detail that had happened since the night before in her head, everything became a jumbled mess with no sense at all and she desisted to even try. It'd give her nothing - except for a glorious headache, that is: apparently, her cards had been dealt and they read her fate was entwined with these guys'.

She'd have never imagined something like this even if she had attempted to. Especially the rockstar fake boyfriend bit.

Sitting beside Ruby and wringing her hands nervously on her lap while Mr. Gold finished explaining what they had earlier discussed in his office downtown, she tried not to look ahead of her, where her lovely to-be boyfriend – _ugh_ – sat, lap free of adorable kids this time. She still had to come to terms with that display - how was the smirking, innuendo-spouting asshole capable of being the spitting image of the perfect daddy-oh, braid-twirling, charming guy? She had been so astounded, she had lost track of what she had been doing and actually stopped on her tracks. Thank God for bringing Ruby with her - at least she knew how to bring her back to the present without realizing it.

Though she sure as hell knew how to drop the least-welcome lines in the whole world, as had been the _"holy fuck, the daddy act is panty-dropping alright"_ she had murmured earlier before such scene.

Or the dorm-singing fiasco memento, for that matter.

She really loved her friend, but sometimes she wished she didn't remember every tiny detail concerning their lives. And, you know, that she used actual filters when talking about them. Especially around strangers and potential idiots who would surely use them as ammo against her.

She suddenly felt a hand on hers, holding it and squeezing - Ruby's. She looked up to see her giving her an encouraging smile. She responded with one of her own - if not a bit forced, but an smile nevertheless. Thank God she had come - she wasn't sure she'd been able to come here if it hadn't been for her. Even with her excessive fangirl attitude and screeching after she had explained the situation, she really needed the support in that moment.

She wondered how Killian had known she would be more comfortable with her friend by her side.

Oh God, had she really thought about him as _Killian_?

Emma mentally slapped herself.

Feeling a tug on her hand, she turned again to Ruby until she realized most of the table occupants were looking either at her or at her 'partner in crime', aka Irishpants. Gold was silent, so she guessed she had missed the whole let's-explain-the-kids-everything-we-have-planned- for-these-two-mwahahaha part. Well, it wasn't as if she didn't know it already.

She waited for someone to say something, but they all seemed to be speechless after Gold had dropped the bomb.

This was awkward.

Without even raising his head, staring intently at the bottle of water sitting in front of him in the table as if it held the answers of the universe, August finally cleared his throat. "So, let me get this straight - you two are going to pose as if you're an actual couple?"

Trying not to appear totally clueless, she answered him. "That's the plan your rep came up with, yeah."

At last, he looked right at her, and seemed to hesitate before talking. "But... you two hate each other."

She barked out a laugh and heard her friend by her side following her lead. Fair point, August.

"I wouldn't say 'hate' but you know, I've been told I'm a fair actress, I'm sure if this finally takes place I'll be able to make it look as if I have no problems with your friend here."

The one guy in question rolled his eyes at her. "Don't sound so excited, Swan, I may not make it."

She didn't even consider responding to him - even though she had the silliest urge to stuck out her tongue at him, like a five-year old would. He apparently brought out all the childish attitude she had neglected in her youth during the foster system period, didn't he?

August turned to his friend again, frown in place. "But wait, Killian - you sure about this? Is this something you'd do? After... everything?"

He shrugged again, as if he didn't care at all about this. _Liar_, she thought. She had seen before in that balcony his true feelings about this - hell, he had even needed a smoke after they'd been told. What was this guy really thinking?

"I already told Gold and blondie here - I would leave the decision on your hands."

...And all hell broke loose.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"What?!"

"Why would you think something so stupid?"

"It's Jones, come on, he's bound to make the stupidest decisions, we know this." This Victor guy was kind of funny - if he kept coming with lines like this about the Irish bimboman, she believed they'd be great pals. She would even give him her blessing to pursue Ruby.

Before the bandmates started biting their frontman's head off after his confession, Gold's voice stopped them from further harassment towards his persona. "It's no time for jokes, boys. Jones decided earlier that, seeing as it had been mostly his fault the problems the band had been encountering lately with its bad press after these incidents, he should give you the opportunity to choose wether it'd be on his hands to bring it back to its former glory - not just via this proposal, of course, but starting on some media damage control, as we could call it."

The youngest one - Philip, was it? She really should have asked Ruby before they came, even after being formally introduced to them she had been half in a daze and hadn't been too focused - looked positively agitated.

Emma thought it was cute.

"But - Gold. We shouldn't be the ones making the call here."

Killian dropped his hand on the table, startling everybody - her and Ruby included - and addressed the whole group. "Guys. Just, what do you want me to do? I just need to know if you think this is a good idea. If you really, truly think this'll help, then I'll do it. Forget about my personal involvement in it. Think about the band. About the outcome."

Silence fell again. Emma was starting to regret coming here - this felt too private for her to witness. These guys were debating on something huge about their future as a group, as friends and as their goals as musicians. Of course it involved her - hell, she was half of the deal itself and it depended on her decision if this went through or not - but it still felt a bit wrong to be there seeing them arguing about it.

Nor should Ruby, but apparently her friend wasn't having such an inner self pep talk as she did - she was entirely too focused on the climax of the matter at hand. Her eyes came and went from one bandmate to another, as if watching a ping pong match - she was just missing the popcorn. Damn her.

She felt eyes on her, and she looked up to see August fixing his stare on her. She shrugged her shoulders at him as if silently asking _'what?'_. He dropped his eyes to her chest.

Oh my God. What was wrong with these guys? Couldn't they stop with the innuendo and flirting, for fuck's sake? She hadn't pegged August as his friend-to-be-fake-boyfriend, but maybe it was some sort of boyband thing or something. She was starting to get flushed as she readied herself for a berating speech about perverts and women rights when she spied the band's logo on the hoodie she was wearing.

Oh. _Oh._

That was what he had been staring at.

The flush that had crept her face before had nothing to do with the full-on blush that came over her. Well, that had been awkward alright. Nervously tugging a lock of her hair and trying to put it back on the messy ponytail she had fixed earlier at Ruby's, she took her time to actually return her gaze to the keyboardist. When she did, he saw his risen eyebrow, and she repeated her shrug and silently shook her head in Killian's direction.

Let him take the fall for that. After all, it had been him who had offered it to her, not the other way round.

She got back to the conversation at hand: Philip was still arguing with Gold and Killian. He seemed to be quite upset about this whole mess - and she couldn't blame him. The funny one - Victor? The one who had been checking Ruby out - looked quite interested in what they had to say, and piped some questions here and there, mostly the same ones they had answered when they had had their meeting with Regina. Grace's father, on the other hand, just kept to himself, quietly tapping his fingers on the edge of the table but contemplating all of their reactions silently, like a predator ready to fall on its prey.

This was quite a weird bunch of guys. She couldn't believe they were such a huge thing.

Or maybe she was just being awfully prejudiced, taking into account she was meeting them just after they had been told their frontman may have to fake dating an actress he had met the night before in order to save their music career.

Yeah, well, this probably wouldn't be their best day, now that she thought about it.

"And what is Emma's - may I call you Emma? - call in all of this?" Jefferson asked from his seat. Great, when the closed-off creep decided to talk, it was to put her in the spotlight. Thank you, Mr. Your-Daughter-Is-Adorable-But-You-Are-Kinda-Creepy .

All eyes again on her, she let out a huff and looked up at the ceiling. "I came here to discuss it with you - your friend over here wouldn't decide anything without hearing your input about this, and seeing as my opinion is as much influential as yours, I guessed I wanted to know what your take was. I have no idea what this would entail or mean for us - but apparently the great superminds here," she signaled to Gold with her head "believe it is the perfect solution. So." She lifted her hands, as if waiting for them to come up with some answer to their dilemma.

"Well, your choice of wardrobe sure tells us what you've decided." August added from his place on the other side of the table, cue to everybody on the room turning to her and observing with curious glances the hoodie she had borrowed.

_Bastard._

Turning her head in Killian's direction, she spoke directly at him. "Your frontman was just being the gentleman he claims he is, and lent it to me when we were discussing this earlier. We agreed I'd give it back when we met here. It's no biggie."

Ruby chuckled beside her. "Well, you bet your pretty ass if someone has seen you wearing it, everyone's bound to believe there is something going on between you two." She pinched her cheek affectionately. "I'm so proud, Emma Swan: wearing guys clothes as if you came from their place after spending a naughty evening? Nice."

She slapped her friend's hand away, her face paling and eyes searching for Killian's. Oh God. Why hadn't she thought of this earlier?

Had she unconsciously agreed to this without noticing? Was she going mad?!

His face was closed off, not giving anything away. She couldn't read him. Damn it. Had he been planning all of this beforehand? That if she took the hoodie that'd be some kind of trigger that'd put everything in motion? What if this was some kind of twisted plan he had designated with his rep and she was just falling into it?

He seemed to read her mind, on contrast with her inability to find out what was going on in his, and tried to placate her. "I didn't think at the moment when I gave it to you that it could have any effect on this, I swear."

She focused her gaze on his. She saw no lies there - though, for what she knew of this guy, he could easily find his way around mostly anything - or anyone, for that matter. But from what she had observed in the meeting and their brief talk downtown, he had nothing to lose.

So she believed him.

Sighing again, she spoke to the rest of the group. "Look - we may not have to decide today, but this is about our future. Your friend is willing to do this for you - and I," she gulped, mustering all her courage before continuing, "I am too. If you all agree, that's it."

Ruby touched her arm, concerned. "Emma..."

"No, it's fine. I haven't signed or talked to David or Mary Margaret or," she shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts, "anyone apart from you yet. I know you want me to do this - though I'm still not sure if it is because you want me to hung out with these idiots or because you actually think this is a good idea." She needed to let that little admonishment out, her friend deserved it after all.

Ruby laughed a bit and smiled sweetly at her, patting her hand with hers."Emma - you know I have always wanted to be a real groupie, but this has nothing to do with that." At her stern look, she gave her a mischievous smile. "Well, not all of it. But as I told you - you're always complaining about how awful it is to have to pretend to be someone you're not, to fake to be interested in people you don't care about, the ass-kissing, the party-mingling and all just so people may notice first your face, and if they do, they'd maybe come to notice your talent. By doing this, you could surely sidestep half of that process - you can bet they'd be sending you scripts and roles offered here and there after some promo with him," she said, signaling Killian with a nod. Finally, she added, full of enthusiasm: "And boy, won't it hurt to go around parading with such hot stuff around!"

That earned her a couple of chuckles and head shakes from the boys sitting around them. Finally raising her head, she cracked a smile at her, trying to convene all of the gratitude she felt at that moment in it. Crazy or not, she wouldn't trade Ruby for anything.

She just hoped her brother and Mary Margaret would be on the same page as her, or so God helped her, she'd be in real trouble.

"Okay, so - this leaves the choice to us, then?" Jefferson intervened at that moment. Gold nodded and spoke to Killian. "That's Jones' call. But I'm sure he'd like to hear what you have to say about it. As we've stated, this is something not just about him, but about all of you. It wouldn't be fair if he got to decide anything without your consent or favor. And I'm sure he'd greatly appreciate your input, as Miss Swan has said."

She gave the Irishman a curious glance from the corner of her eye. He seemed different here. Not a bad different - like, a more relaxed, himself different. She guessed it'd have to do with being practically home, as Ruby had informed her about how the studio they were having this reunion was were they had recorded most of his albums.

And, apart from spending most of his musical career between those walls, she knew more about home being the people you choose to be around than four walls surrounding you keeping you safe.

And Killian, right now, was home. Well, excepting from Ruby and her, that is.

Philip nodded at Gold's words and passed a hand over his face. "I don't know what to say. I - I would never be able to do something like this. I know you guys like to tease me about my romantic side or whatever but - I just, I wouldn't." He sent Killian a pleading look. "I'm not sure what else you want me to say, dude. I mean, I have your back. Even though I, myself, would never agree to do this, I know you and I have not the same conception about relationships, so if you believe you can do this and it will help us, then, by all means, go with it. But you have to be sure - I don't want you doing this just because you think you owe us something."

"Doesn't he?" Jefferson said from his side. His calculating gaze was focused on Killian at the moment, and she was perplexed to see that the last one looked a bit ashamed at that remark. Sighing, the drummer shook his head, exposing a long scar on his neck. Yikes. "If Jones is going for it, he has my full approval. As far as I know, being linked to a relatively unknown star - for now - as Emma will be beneficial for us, not as when it was all blonde bimbo on his arm here, alcoholic actress fling there." She heard Killian groaning and she had to cover up the smirk that was threatening to escape her lips. Oh, how long had she waited for his turn to be embarrassed.

_Ha. Take that, smirky asshole._

August followed his mate's lead and nodded with his head. "I'm with these two. It's all down to you in the end, Killian. I accept it does sound promising, but what I'm worried about is you two." He shifted his gaze to Emma, and she could see a bit of concern there. She was slightly moved and confused at the same time - this guy didn't even know her, why would he be worried about her?

Killian stared back at his friend, his face guarded. He dropped a hand on his leg and rubbed his forearm nervously, nearly lifting his sleeve. Wait - did she spy ink there...?

"Don't worry about me, okay? I got this." His voice dropped a bit at the end. Sure, great show, man. You totally got this.

Like hell he did.

He was so scared as she was, he had no idea what they were getting themselves into - yet they were willing to do it. What was wrong with them, really?

At that moment, Victor let his palm drop on the table, making them all jump in their seats and gawk at him, alarmed. "Can we all of us _please_ address the most important matter of this conversation?" They all exchanged confused glances between them. Emma shrugged at Ruby when she sent her a perplexed look. What was he referring to? "How is it that _Zanessa is not real_?"

It was like someone had opened a window in a closed-off room after months and letting fresh air in. They all seemed to breath at once, exhaling and laughing at the hilarity of such a scene. Even Gold seemed to relax - as much as a man like him could, she mused.

Ruby was more than happy to follow Victor's line of thought. Those two were hitting it off alright. "Oh my God, I know right? I am crushed! Has my youth been all a lie?"

As they both kept bantering on and on about how this piece of news had changed their whole lives, she peeked out from under her lashes at Killian, expecting a pensive look or some kind-of-depressed-slash-emo pose. None of that. He was quietly smiling at his friends, as if he was used to moments like these. Philip had brought his bass up to his lap, unconsciously drumming a chord here and there while he talked to August, and Gold piped something from time to time in whatever they were discussing.

Feeling a chill run down her spine, Emma knew he was the one now looking at her. She stared back, and at his wondering eyes and smile tugging at his lips, she admitted to herself that it wouldn't be so bad to hang out with these guys after all.

* * *

When the meeting was officially done, Gold announced he was leaving with Belle to start the arrangements of the contract and possible media outcome after the proper announcement - whatever that meant. He left the room after wishing them all good day and a kind goodbye to Emma and Ruby, asking Emma to call him if she needed anything and promising to see her the day of the signing. She was quietly talking to Ruby about the day in question when the brunette girl that had met them at the reception place when they had arrived earlier and had taken Grace out during the meeting entered and made her way towards them. Emma stopped talking and waited for her to come closer, when Victor whistled from the couch.

"Hey Belle - how long?"

...What?

She saw this Belle girl - it was a pretty name, and appropriate, too - roll her eyes and throw an accusing finger at him. "One day I'll not be here and you'll have to do all of these things by yourselves, and then, you'll miss me, mister."

All of them laughed at that, as if this was something they were accustomed to. "Come on, Bells - you know you love being our mom."

"As if I hadn't enough with Bae, I have to put up with you five children." She shook her head.

She saw Philip come from his seat and wrap an arm around her shoulders. "But you love us anyway, don't you?" Belle tried to maintain a cool face until he tickled her on her back and she bursted out laughing. "Okay, okay - it'll be here in 10."

Emma and Ruby exchanged identical clueless looks. What the hell were they talking about?

Sensing their discomfort, Belle closed the distance between them and dropped in the seat right beside theirs. "We usually have take away when we have meetings here - I took the liberty of ordering for you two as well, if you don't mind." Her grin was genuine, and though Emma was about to reject the offer and go back home to try to come to terms with the fact that she'd have to tell Mary Margaret and David about all this mess she'd been thrown into - how did one start that conversation, anyway? Oh God, headache was coming back - the other young woman's warmth and chipper attitude tempted her to accept. Sensing Ruby's eagerness to stay, she smiled back to her. "We'd be glad to join you, it's so sweet of you to invite us."

She just waved a hand at her. "Nonsense. I hear we're going to spend a lot of time together, so we'd better start on good terms, right? Especially you and Killian." Emma tried not to let the shiver that ran through her at the thought show. Belle clapped her hands excitedly. "I wasn't sure what you'd like from the menu - I ordered a bit of everything, I mean, I know what they want," she said, pointing with a finger over her shoulder to the band, who were all gathering on the couch looking at some paper full of music arrangements, "as they always order the same, but you girls... I had no choice but to improvise!" She laughed a bit and went on about the dished she thought were the best ones and whatnot. Emma was a bit dazed after all that had transpired since the night before, and wasn't paying too much attention until a small shape found her way beside her seat. She turned, surprised to find Grace putting on a tablecloth in front of her, and she rushed to help her out. "Wow. Aren't you the best helper ever? I'm sure your dad is thrilled you're such a good girl." She praised her while they both tried to smooth the wrinkles away from the cloth. Grace smiled, pleased, and she remembered what Jefferson had said about the girl loving compliments.

"Papa is very helpful too. They all are, but I try to help when they're working so they don't have to. I like taking care of them."

"And she's the best mum one could ask for." The Irish brogue came from behind, startling them, and a shriek from the girl followed as he took her and carried her on his arms, holding her in place. He slowly let her land on her feet, cheeks flushed with joy. Emma smiled despite herself - he was good with kids, she'd give him that.

She saw how Ruby suddenly got up with Belle and ran to the door - the food was here. Huh. That was fast. She looked for the clock she had spied in the wall while they had been discussing things and she had been a bit distracted. It had been at least a couple of hours since they had first arrived there.

Well, maybe not _that_ fast.

When Ruby came back, arms full of plastic containers, napkins and cans, she run to help her while Belle payed to the funny red cap-wearing guy waiting at the door. She fixed the things on the table while the rest of the boys made their way to the table.

Classic move. Food shows up - so do the men. Like honey to bees, really.

She approached Grace - and Killian - again. "Where are the forks, spoons and knives, miss? Or are we going to eat truly Lost Boys fashion, hands dripping in sauce, slurping and all?" She ignored the eye-rolling her soon-to-be-fake-boyfriend was sending her way.

"This way, come you two!" She imperiously demanded, guiding them to an armoire full of drawers in one corner of the room. She opened one of them, where there seemed to be cutlery for when they decided to have lunch or dinner there. She wondered they did eat there pretty much - after all, they worked there most of the time, sometimes night and day.

She took a bunch of forks and knives, counting them mentally while she did - Victor, Philip, Jefferson, August, Killian, Grace, Ruby, Belle and her, that made nine - and made to pass them to Killian when Grace's voice caught her attention.

"So - are you two dating?"

She was so startled, a couple of the items fell from her hand to the floor with a _clunk_. She was on her knees before she knew it, quietly muttering under her breath and trying to hide the blush that sure was taking over her face at the moment, and suddenly realized she was not the only one on the floor - Killian had dropped to his knees too, helping her picking up the dropped tools. He was laughing quietly and then helped her stand up, offering his hand to her. She took it without realizing it, and the same electric feeling that had been there that morning when he gave her his jacket passed between them. Trying to ignore the feeling this time, she tugged at her hand, trying to free it from his, but he held on.

"You've cut yourself."

Oh, no.

Of course she had. _Dammit, Swan._

Holding her hand close to his face, he inspected it, his hot breath on the bleeding skin of her palm sending sparks through her. She held her breath and counted to ten in her mind, trying with all her might to ignore the reaction her traitor body was showing to his actions.

A frown marring his forehead, he whistled. "We have to clean this up. There's a first aid kit in the other room - come."

What? No way. Not playing doctor time for you, buddy.

"What? No, don't worry, it's nothing, I'll just put a napkin around it or something."

He gave her an unimpressed look. "Swan: we live in the 21st century. We have things such as penicillin, band aids and probably soon we'll even have flying cars. So - shut up and come."

He tugged at her other hand and dragged her through the room until they reached the door. Before the door clicked shut behind them, though, she could hear Grace's frustrated voice. "But they didn't answer me!"

_**Extra, extra! These two are killian me!**_

_**...well, that's not much of news for us, but really - how come they keep giving me feels, I'll never know. UGH. **_

_**More meetings and band/girls stuff! Like? Dislike? Laugh? Cry? Tell me! I'm all for your lovely words!**_

_**I have to add this 'cause I forgot last time - I HAVE NO ACTUAL PROOF OF ZANESSA BEING A LIE, DON'T BLAME ME FOR YOUR CRUSHED SOULS. I just read it was one of the most rumored ones for being a fake ship, so I used it. *hides behind Archie's umbrella* Don't kill me!**_

_**...is someone spying some parallel Tallahassee scene in the horizon? *raises hand* we'll see! Even tho this is an AU/AH, I love introducing tidbits from the show here and there, as you've all probably noticed, you smart gents. Anyway, hope you all enjoyed this!**_

_**Loads of Maroon 5 while writing this. And by loads, I mean, all of their freaking discography. GAH.**_


	9. Chapter 9: The Telling

_**Disclaimer: None of this characters are mine. No Killian Jones, no Emma Swan, no Graham, no Ruby. Nope. If they did, we'd all hang out and I'd probably spend my days staring at their prettiness and perfection. Sadly, they all are owned by Adam Horowitz and Edward Kitsis, along with OUAT. Bastards.**_

* * *

He was still holding her hand.

_Dammit. _

Why hadn't he let go of it yet, again?

Well, it wasn't as if it was gross or uncomfortable to hold it. In fact, it was warm, and soft - how could they be so soft? - and it fit perfectly in his. But that didn't mean he had to hold it for the sake of it, had he?

But how did he let go of it without making it awkward as hell?

They had just left the studio and were trudging along the hall to the little cabin they used as junk room slash kitchenette slash whatever they wanted. As soon as they got to the door, he had to prop himself against it and push while twisting the knob in order to open it, _finally_ giving him the elusive excuse he had begged for. Dropping her hand softly and setting immediately to shove against the wood with his side, it opened with a loud groan, giving them a proper view of its contents: a mountain of boxes, a petite fridge in the further corner - that no one used as they had another one in the proper kitchen on the other side of the building, - some micros laid here and there on top of a dusty desk and a couple of broken speakers piled up beside his destination - an upper shelf were the first-aid kit items were stacked randomly.

He signaled Emma to follow him there - no more hand-holding, nope - while he opened the glass door and took out a couple of gauzes and some kind of antiseptic there was in the back. He looked for bandaids, with no luck; they'd all been probably wasted on Grace's scraped knees and elbows whenever she'd fall while playing around in the studio.

Somehow he wasn't sure Emma would have been all too thrilled about wearing Disney princesses themed bandaids, anyway, so gauzes would have to do.

He turned around and found her sitting in one of the speakers by the table, observing everything around her curiously. He couldn't blame her, considering there was a pretty amount of crap laying around. He could even peek from his place a broken ukelele on one of the shelves - one of the first ones he had owned when they started recording their first album, years ago. Needless to say, its days had been over long ago, seeing where it rested now.

He turned his gaze on the girl beside him, noting how her hair was spilling from her ponytail and falling on her shoulders, not on such a lovely display as they'd been the Gala night. He noticed she was wearing the same necklace she had worn that evening, a golden tie with two hanging rings - now that he thought about it, she had worn it every time he had seen her. Maybe it was some kind of lucky charm or something? Shaking his head, he cleared his throat, trying to get her attention so he wouldn't have to grab her hand again without her consent. She looked up at him, surprised, and he gave a pointed look at her hand, carefully laid on her lap so as not to stain her outfit with blood. Or so he guessed.

"Open up and hold still." He opened one of the bandages, trying to measure how long he'd need for it to wrap around the wound, and the antiseptic followed. He then poured some of the liquid onto the cloth, wetting it. He raised his gaze to her, and was startled to realize she was staring at him quite unabashedly, green piercing eyes locked onto his face. Not breaking contact, he caught her cut hand, and finally had to drop his eyes in order to clean the wound. She made a soft sound right after the gauze touched it, so he tried to be gentle, sweeping carefully the blood from her pale skin.

He wondered if she was still looking at him.

When he was done, he suddenly realized he didn't have anything to cut the gauze with. As much junk as there could be in this room, he wasn't sure he was in the mood to look for a pair of scissors in this mess.

He made a sudden decision on the spot: he lowered his face to her hand, ignoring her surprised - and breathless, dared he say - _"What are you doing?!"_, and with his teeth, he cut off the rest of the useless cloth. He couldn't stop himself from peeking at her from under his lashes while he did it, trying really hard not to smirk at her wide eyes and open mouth at his action. He then proceeded to tie the ends of the remaining piece on her hand, securing it around her palm over the now disinfected cut.

He blowed a bit on it and, with a flourish, finally addressed her. "There. A professional's work, wouldn't you say?"

Her eyes had lost that awed expression they wore, though her stance seemed ready to snap, she looked so tense - did he really affect her so much? "Yeah, I'm pretty sure you busted your medical career by choosing the good life in Hollywood."

He rose an eyebrow at that, amused. "Who are we talking about? I thought the Hollywoodish one was you, not me. I'm a musician, not an actor, love, remember?"

She cast her eyes down, the fingers on her right hand gently caressing the bandage he had just tied. "Well, most of both of us move in pretty much the same circles, don't we?"

"And yet we had never run into each other until now," he added, smiling slightly. She chuckled under her breath, face turning to her side and blond strands of hair bouncing, and he suddenly became aware of how close they were to each other: he was standing right between her thighs, while she sat in that broken speaker.

Fuck.

Abruptly torn between closing up the space between them and getting the fuck out of there pronto, he did the best thing he could think of: he stayed put right where he was, waiting for her to decide. As intent as she was on inspecting her now wrapped cut, he saw the exact moment when she became aware of their more-than-friendly position - her sudden intake of breath, how her spine straightened and her hands clenched on the sides of her choice of seat. Time stood still, both of them not really knowing how to escape whatever that moment had trapped them into.

He could even count each one of the tiny freckles on her nose.

Unaware of what he was doing, his hand had started moving on its own accord, coming dangerously close to that damn curl that always seemed to be dancing around her face. He knew she was looking its advances, and yet she wasn't doing anything to stop him.

Again, why wasn't she stopping him? He had hoped she'd have at least some of her marbles on her - apparently _he_ didn't whenever she was concerned.

Just as he was almost touching the soft golden lock, a loud cracking noise was heard and Emma barely lost her balance as the speaker under the one she was sitting on decided to collapse without warning, breaking whatever moment they were having. Letting out a high-pitched squeal, her arms went out to grasp the first thing they could while she hurriedly set her feet on the ground, holding on for dear life. It wasn't until she whipped her head back after she stared with wide eyes to the mess left behind her she seemed to realize it was Killian's arms she was grabbing like there was no tomorrow, his arms holding her hips in return.

Well, this was going great.

Circled by his arms, she resembled a lost animal at that moment - out of clue of what to do. If he were honest with himself, he'd admit he was feeling pretty much the same. She didn't even dare to look at him; in fact, he was quite sure that she wasn't even moving - apart from her hands clutching fiercely his upper arms - fearing if she did, she'd probably break this fragile balance they were holding at the moment.

And, more importantly, if she even dared to move her head a bit, she'd sure brush her fucking soft skin against him, and he wasn't sure he could manage that. It had been a long time, after all, and even if he didn't like to admit it - Swan was one fine piece of woman. A real spitfire in his hands, literally.

The _in his hands_ part. Not the spitfire part. That, he wouldn't know.

Not yet, at least.

Oh God.

_Jones, cut it._

_Cut it OUT._

Opening his mouth to try to dispel the tension of the moment - and his not-so-welcome-thoughts at the prospects of staying in that same position - with some shitty joke, he was interrupted by a concerned voice coming from the hallway. "Emma? Killian? Are you two okay?"

Of course August had to be the knight in armor. He couldn't keep himself from rolling his eyes. He felt her hands falling from his arms and saw how she carefully stepped behind her, staying out of the way of the broken pieces of the speaker laying around on the floor. She breathed heavily, without looking at him, and finally addressed his friend in an even voice.

"Yes! Yes, just - I tripped over something and it fell to the floor." She tugged at her bandage and eyed at him while she rounded him and walked to the door, where August had just shown up. She faked an embarrassed laugh, motioning to the jumble of wood and metal pieces littering the floor. "I'm such a klutz, I'm so sorry."

He smiled at her, clearly amused. "How you survived that movie handling a sword, I'll never know."

She laughed for real at that. Killian had to smile - she didn't laugh enough. "Ask Graham that - he was terrified the first days. Well, he was pretty much every time we had to use them, really." She scrunched up her nose. "I thought I had gotten better after some weeks, but apparently he didn't trust me enough on that. Bastard."

While gathering the first aid supplies in the shelf again before leaving to the studio once more, Killian tried to conjure the image of Emma and Graham in a sword fight of any kind. It sounded pretty fun, now that he thought of that. If he had been in Graham's shoes, he sure as hell would have been making ongoing references to his more than fine '_sword_', he mused with a sly grin. And even if the image of Emma holding a sword may inspire a bit of fear in him - she _was_ quite temperamental and he didn't want to find out if she had any kind of violent strikes in her, especially against him, if their rocky relationship in the last two days were any proof - he couldn't suppress himself from finding it appealing as well.

Empowered, bold women were his undoing, apparently.

"Are you coming?"

He turned to find her in the doorway, bandaged hand propped against the wall and an expectant expression. He noticed she had zipped down the hoodie, a white singlet underneath. He nodded, not bothering to answer in case he said something he'd regret. He mentally praised himself - maybe that was what maturing felt like? Shaking his head, he made his way out of the room and finally caught up with her in the hallway, feeling a sense of déjà vu of how they first had come to this room in the first place.

Only, this time, he wasn't holding her hand.

* * *

_**EPOV**_

Emma had to admit she was having fun.

After the bleeding hand incident - and the intense-bandage-wrapping, broken-speaker-cockblock incident, they had come back to the studio and joined the rest there to have the take out Belle had ordered. Belle and Ruby had seemed to click right away - they wouldn't stop talking animatedly, all waving hands and squeals, to Emma's non-surprise. Ruby got along with everybody and everything; it seemed like she possessed some sort of pixie dust that'd have you wrapped around her little finger in no time. Of course, not only Belle was victim of her charm: the boys were transfixed with her easy laugh and funny stories - especially Victor, as she had earlier suspected.

They had sat around the table, some of them lounging on the couch, with Grace coming and going from one place to another, joining every conversation she could and sharing her meal to whoever dared to pick it up from her fork until Jefferson sat her on his lap so she'd finally end at least a plate under his watchful eye. Emma had sat beside Philip, laughing at some of the stories he told her about nights in the studio, concerts they'd performed - and the most amusing ones, she had found out, from the tours they'd done the year before. August had added his insight on most of them while Jones groaned and whined about how most of them weren't "exactly as they were telling" or "I don't remember that in that way", until she had had to tell him to shut up or she'd throw another glass at him. She was having too much fun hearing about his run-ins with psychotic groupies, pranks in the vans by his bandmates and other shenanigans they'd pulled off.

He was such a baby.

She was so absorbed by the cozy atmosphere they'd somehow created, she nearly missed her phone buzzing until Jones pointed it out to her. He rose a brow at her "Are you going to take that, or you're just getting off on how it feels in your pocket?"

Groans and "Jesus, you're disgusting Jones" following, she rolled her eyes and grimaced at him while she fished it out from the pocket oh his hoodie (she really needed to give it back to him - no matter how good it smelt or how attached she seemed to have gotten to it. _Nope. Give it back. Now. Or maybe after I get this call_.) Looking at the screen, she internally shuddered and screamed for help.

David.

Uh-oh.

Visibly wincing at the amused stares of the boys sitting around her, she picked up, hand rubbing her forehead. "Hey, David."

"Emma - where are you? You were supposed to be here two hours ago!" He sounded visibly relieved after she had answered. God, he was an anxious one.

She sighed. She should have seen this coming. "I know, I'm sorry - I got caught up after the meeting with Regina."

He seemed to pick up something from her words, and stayed silent for a bit. "...Everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, everything's fine."

"You don't sound so sure."

Ugh. Why did brothers have to be so freaking perceptive about everything? Damn him for knowing her so well. Not wanting to rant about all of this on the phone - especially in front of the guys she had just basically sold her public life for the next who-knew-how-long. Especially not in front of _him_, smirk in place as if sensing her utmost discomfort.

"Look, I'll get there in about..." she propelled the rotating chair she was sitting on to properly read the clock on the wall behind her "half an hour, I just need to finish something here and I'll be on my way. I'm with Ruby anyway, I have to drop her by your place."

He sounded disconcerted. "Wait - where is here? Aren't you still downtown where Regina told you to meet her?"

She internally groaned. "No, I'm not there - I'll explain later."

"Yeah, I bet you do. See you later, we'll be all waiting." The only thing left was a 'young lady' and he could be her mum. Not even Ruth acted this way with her.

Though she wouldn't have him any other way.

She gulped, not even wanting to imagine the scenario that would wait for her when she got there. Spanish Inquisition, anyone? "'Kay. See ya."

She hung up, and silently prayed for the headache that had haunted her for the last two days - since Killian fucking Jones had so rudely run into her life like a drunken bastard in a party - not to come back. She heard snickering in front of her and saw Jones' glinting eyes. "Something funny, Jones?"

"Nothing - lover's quarrel, pet?" He rose an eyebrow at her, looking poised in his seat, twirling a fork in his hand as if he didn't really care at all about her answer.

Oh. _OH. _It was her time to smirk at him now.

"Oh, look who's jealous now."

He outright laughed in her face, though she could see something pass over his face. "Sure I am - just waiting for the poor sod, if he does in fact exist, to hear about all of this," he said, waving a finger between the two of them. Tired of the discussion already, she picked up her purse from beside her on the floor, making sure she wasn't leaving anything.

"No need to worry, _honey_," she said, putting as much sarcasm as she could into the word, "that was my brother. One of the poor souls I'll have to tell about this." She sighed heavily, plopping the purse in front of her and tacking things out of it, looking for her keys frantically. "Where the hell did I put them..."

She must have looked a bit out of it, as August even offered to assist her. "You want any help, Emma? Whatever it is you're doing?"

"No, no, I'm alright - just trying to find...," she said as she put on the table half of the items she had carried with herself: a couple of colored pens, the infamous mascara Ruby had given her, her wallet, a pendant she surprisingly thought she had lost, free passes for some party she hadn't bothered to attend (that Jones picked and read, adding in a bored tone _'been there, it wasn't that great, though I bet it'd have been much more interesting if you had gone, Swan; loads of drinks around to throw at people'), _a candy bar she had forgotten to eat that morning, a handmade drawing she carried around with her everywhere, and why was there everything she could_ possibly think of in here but she couldn't find her motherfucking keys..._

Her phone beeped again, and she was already answering, not amused at all at David's impatience. "I said I'll be there in half an hour, Jesus, David, calm down."

"And here I thought you had learned how to properly read. I'm disappointed, Swan."

"Oh, you." She couldn't help to smile. "I'm sorry - I thought it was my ninny of a brother - can't live without me."

Graham's laugh echoed through the line, and she let the sound of it rush through her. "I'm sure he's not the only one, here I am, calling for you, too."

"Aw. Missing me already?," she teased him.

He seemed to ponder her question. "Well, the other night you _did_ ditch me. Worst date I've ever had, if you ask me."

She cringed. Oh God, she had forgotten Graham had seen all of that too. "I'm so sorry about that." She tried to add some cheer to her voice. "I promise I'll make it up to you."

She could see from the corner of her eye how Jones was staring intently at her. Oh, God, if he dared to ask again if it was some boyfriend of hers she'd stab him in the eye with his fork. On of those piercing, sea blue eyes; and she'd keep it as a souvenir.

Not because she found them hauntingly beautiful or anything.

Not at all.

_Focus, Emma, stop thinking about his stupid, gorgeous eyes._

Graham's teasing voice brought her back to reality. "Oh, yeah? How are you going to repay me?"

"I don't know. What do you want?" Two could play this game alright. He laughed at her answer, she could imagine him rolling his eyes at her. "Don't worry that blonde pretty head of yours, Swan. It's okay."

"Fantastic. So if you're not calling to make me feel like crap for the other day, what is it you want?"

"Sydney asked me to pass the message: the pics of the shoot are already done, but we have press conference next week. You up to it, right?"

She mentally counted in her mind the days and her following compromises. "Next week? Yeah, no problem."

"Cool. Oh, and the premiere is in three weeks time - I seem to recall you asked about how difficult it could be to find passes for someone?"

She locked eyes with August, who had been the one interested in her role in the movie itself when they had discussed it during the gala. She then turned to Jones, who was still staring at her with that inquisitive look, as if he wanted nothing more than to snatch her phone away. She rubbed her temple with her free hand. "Yeah, more like a bunch of people, actually."

"Woah. Bringing all your tribe?" He sounded surprised, and she didn't blame him: she didn't have that many friends, she always hung out with the same bunch of people. Her people.

She groaned. "Something like that. You don't even wanna know."

He laughed again - damn Graham. "'Kay. See you in the press conference - wait, is movie night still on this Saturday?"

Oh, right. After the shooting of the movie was done, they had established these weekend routines when they were all free and in town - they picked up a movie, stored the fridge with junk food, and joined by Ruby, Mary Margaret, David and occasionally Ella they'd watch it. Or more like rambled and gossiped for a couple of hours with the movie playing in the back. Or made fun of everything they could possibly find in it. It was a nice excuse to spend time together.

She wondered if this new deal of hers involving the musician sitting in front of her would change all of these rituals, routines and moments she cherished so much. She would not be able to make plans ahead without consulting with him now, could she? Heart dropping in her chest at the thought, she noticed Ruby standing next to her, ready to go, shrugging as if asking what was wrong. She shook her head. "I don't know yet, Graham. I'll text you when I know, okay?"

"Sure thing. Bye, Ems."

"Bye." She hung up, feeling a bit lightheaded. She sat there for a minute, looking at the screen of her phone, her previous thoughts threatening to consume her in a panic. She had been fine an hour ago, why was the sudden realization of having to change a familiar group date tormenting her in such fashion?

The background picture on her phone - the same handmade picture she carried around in her purse - seemed to mock at her at that very moment.

"Was that Humbert?"

Lifting her head, she saw Jones looking expectantly at her, eyebrow raised in question. She suddenly recalled they knew each other. "Yeah. Right, you guys are friends," she stated while she stood up to join Ruby, still roaming every pocket of her purse in search of her damn keys.

He kept questioning her. "We are. I thought you had finished shooting?"

Not giving him much attention, she answered him. "We have, but the fun starts now - the promo for the movie and the premiere are approaching." She turned exasperated to Ruby. "Do you know where the hell I put my keys? Please don't tell me I lost them again. I'm so not in the mood today."

"That'd be the first time someone tells you that, huh, Ruby?"

"JONES." August and Philip warned from their seats, earning a scoff from their frontman.

"My wit is wasted on you, lads."

Ruby surprised her by dangling her keys in front of her face with a mocking expression. "Emma - you gave them to me earlier, remember?"

"Thank God." Grabbing them from her friend and rolling the tiny metal flower charm that David had given her for her birthday years ago that she used as a keychain, she turned to the bandmates again, ready to go. "Well, I'd say it's been a pleasure - for the most part," she said, with a pointed glare at Jones, who only grinned in response and lifted his arms as in surrender at her words, "but I'm sure we'll top it next time if Irish dickhead here could control his tongue for more than ten minutes straight."

"You seem awfully interested in my tongue, Swan..."

Throwing her head back in a silent scream, she cried exasperatedly, "See? This is what I mean."

That only made his grin broaden, eyes locked in hers. "And yet you're signing that contract. How contradictory of you." Before she could come up with an answer to his blow, Ruby gripped her forearm and started dragging her from her spot. "And - we're going, or we'll be dealing with WWIII in your studio. Bye, guys - see you soon!" She waved at them, grinning and winking at Victor on her way to the door. Emma, feeling like a puppet, couldn't do anything apart from follow her, nearly tripping in her way at her friend's forceful grip. She nodded at all of them and smiled at Belle until she felt a tug on her shirt.

"Wait! You'll come back, right?"

She stopped in her tracks to see Grace, gazing up at her and giving her enormous, brilliant puppy eyes. She grinned in response. Oh, kids. How sneaky they were - no doubt this girl got whatever she wanted from these losers - they surely wouldn't deny her anything if she gave them these eyes. She kneeled in front of the small girl and hugged her warmly. "I will, don't worry. We'll see each other soon, I promise." She stood up again, giving her one last smile over her shoulder and followed Ruby out of the building to her car.

Just as she was taking out her car keys to open it, Ruby called out to her. "Emma - aren't you cold in that shirt?"

Shaking her head, her hand trembled a bit at her statement. "Not at all."

Little did she know, Killian was at that moment picking up her hoodie - his hoodie - from the chair she had been sitting earlier, a smile grazing his lips.

* * *

"I'm here!" Emma called as she opened the door to David's apartment, leaving her purse hanging on the hook beside the door and making her way to the living room, where the TV noises and the voices from her brother and his fiancé could be heard from. She peeked from the corner and saw them sitting on the couch, David tickling Mary Margaret in order to try to get the remote from her. They were both in stitches, cushions falling to the floor and the bag of popcorn sitting on the table dangerously close to them threatening to follow the same path. Emma stood there, watching them, a sudden nostalgia filling her. This was what true love, actual soulmates looked like. What it was meant to be. She had always known it, since she introduced Mary Margaret to her brother back when they met in college years ago. One look, that was what it took - and when he called her later, he told her exactly that. That he knew.

Just like magic.

Even though she had just snorted at his brother's sappy ways - in her book at least, she was sure 90% of the female population would have her panties dropping at some of his lines - sometimes she wondered if by being a hopeless cynic she was losing her chance at finding her own happy ending.

But later, she remembered why she had become such a _'true love'_ denier, and she felt her walls come up again.

She cleared her throat, making a fuss of putting her hands over her eyes as if she didn't want to intrude any naughty times between them - which, of course, she would _never_ in her life dare to even try. Ew. "You guys visible?"

"Emma! Finally!" Mary Margaret sprang from the couch and ran to hug her. Smiling fondly at her, she laced her arm through hers and walked them back to where David was sitting. As she took place at his right, he put his arm around her, kissing the top of her head. "Where were you?"

She chuckled. Oh, boy. "Not around the bushes, huh?" He shrugged and stared at her, waiting patiently for her to talk. She dropped her head on his shoulder, a huge sigh escaping her lips as she braced herself for the explaining she had to do. "Where do I start..."

After a ten minute speech, the three of them seated in silence, waiting for the unavoidable outcome that was to occur.

"Wait - you're actually considering this? But I thought those papers were talking rubbish." David looked more confused than anything. Oh, dear. Sometimes he was so clueless - hadn't he heard anything she had said? "You told me that this morning on the phone!" He accused, pointing his finger at her.

"Yes, David. The articles were assuming things, as always, as they do everyday - but this is another thing entirely. After those came out, apparently everybody believes Jones and I are the new thing - and it could help both of us, so that's why we're being offered this deal." She turned to Mary Margaret, knowing full well that her input would be one of the most decisive ones. If Ruby brought out her spontaneity and fun side, Mary Margaret was her moral compass - and helped her maintain her head on her shoulders.

Her friend was staring at her curiously, eyes crossed on her lap. "Well, you seem pretty convinced as it is - are you asking us for permission?"

She was mostly shocked at her friend's nonchalance. "What? No! Of course not! But I wanted to know what you guys thought - I mean, this is a huge deal we're talking about!"

David jumped at this. "You want to know what _I_ think? I think if this Jones kid needs help to get back to his good graces with the paps, he'd better find another girl to frolic around - he's _not_ going to be swapping spit with my sister just so he can be number one!"

Emma repressed the urge to moan in desperation. "David - it's not like that. Forget about him, okay? Think about what this could mean for me. How it could affect my career."

"Emma - you've been doing amazing on your own, no need of any asshole on your arm to get where you are now. Why would you change that?" He turned troubled eyes on her. She knew where he was coming from - he was worried about her, about her choices. Especially relationship ones.

She hadn't taken the best ones about those in her life, that was sure. Even though some of them had given her more than she had expected.

"I know I don't _need_ it. But can you blame me for daring to hope this will be a good thing for me?"

Mary Margaret rose a brow. "For you? Or for your career?"

Damn her. Emma bit her tongue, eyes blazing at her friend for picking on the smallest details. "Guys - I know this is going to be difficult. Hell, I am terrified to do this! But, will you trust me? I really think this could work. It will help me get my feet inside the biggest circles - no more need to go chasing around directors, producers, screenwriters. No need to put on a front whenever someone questions my talent. At least, not how I have to deal with all that crap now. It may not be the most honest of ways," her voice caught here; she knew how much they valued truth and honesty, and she was terribly worried about them chastising her about this for the outright lie they'd be throwing at everybody, "but - sometimes I'm so tired of having to fight everything on my way."

She hadn't meant to sound so weak, so fragile - even in front of her most trusted ones, she didn't like breaking down. Afraid of what they'd say next, she picked at her shirt's hem, nervously tugging with her fingers.

It was David's sigh that made her stop her fidgeting. "Emma - even if I don't like this at all, you know I've always trusted your instinct. I'm by no means okay with this fucker using you as a means to an end of his, though."

She choked back a laugh, and she felt tearing up at her brother's words. Voice catching, she hugged him. "You're so silly. If he's using me, then I am using him as much, you idiot."

"Maybe, but he's not my little sister. You are." He held her by his side, his arms wrapped around her shoulder firmly, warming her. Mary Margaret grabbed her hand, nodding with her head. "I am really curious about this Killian Jones guy. You think this will end good? Doesn't he have a reputation?"

Laughing at that, she recalled that morning's meeting, how he had teased her about the skirt, him lending her his hoodie, how the smoke of the cigar had left his lips in ringlets around his face. His hands playing with Grace's hair, him wrapping the wet bandage on her hand - _oh._ She was still wearing that. Shocked at the realization, she stared at it for a bit, transfixed, ghost feelings of his breath on her skin making her shudder. "Oh, believe me: he has a reputation. But," she let out a small smile, "he's not that bad. Or so I think."

She missed the little look her brother and his to-be-bride exchanged at her words. Suddenly, David frowned, as if realizing something. "Wait - you said you couldn't tell a lot of people about this, right? What about...?"

"Mom?"

Throwing her brother a warning look, she stood up and walked over to her son, hugging him and kissing his head. She ruffled his hair, making him laugh. "Hey kid. Missed me?"

* * *

_**After a love-filled day in tumblr, I had to repay you with the same coin - and as my only 'talent' - apart from coming up with silly names for Colin O'mynameissofuckingeasytomaken ameswith - is bickering between these two, tada!**_

_**Any thoughts, angry mobs, rage cries and pumping fists thrown to the sky, and even tear-stained letters are more than welcome in the reviews section, dearies. I am most pleased to answer all of them - they make my days, nights, and they mostly make me smile and laugh. You're all amazing and I adore each and one of you.**_

_**Also - did you guys see? Cliffe! MWAHAHAHA *goes and hides behind Killian's hoodie, I know you wouldn't dare hurting that***_

_**On another note: MS MR's "Bones", "Hurricane" and "Dark Doo Woop" were playing while writing this chapter. Obsessed after 'Bones' played on the S3 GOT's trailer, tbh! **_


	10. Chapter 10: Not So Lost Boy

_**Disclaimer: None of this characters are mine. No Killian Jones, no Emma Swan, no Graham, no Ruby. Not even little Henry. Not even Grace. Nope. If they did, we'd all hang out and I'd probably spend my days staring at their prettiness and perfection. Sadly, they all are owned by Adam Horowitz and Edward Kitsis, along with OUAT. Bastards.**_

* * *

Looking at her son's face intently, sometimes Emma wondered what people meant when they said he was 'a spitting image' of her. She guessed they both shared some traits - the piercing green eyes he liked to use against her so much whenever he wanted, the straight nose, fair skin, naughty smile, dry sense of humor and easy outbursts here and there - but, as any other mother, she couldn't help but think he was the most beautiful creature in the world, way more perfect than anything or anyone around him.

Including her.

Snapping out of her study on his face, she put her hands on his shoulders and gave him a little shove towards the kitchen. "You hungry? We can either haul something from these losers' fridge and run home - or", she said, throwing a smirk at her brother and Mary Margaret over her shoulder, ignoring their not-so-amused glare, "we can get something on the way. Whatever you like."

Henry approached the refrigerator, taking a peek inside, a frown marring his forehead. "Nah, I've done all the hauling for today - there is nothing left."

"Nothing?" She didn't believe that. David and Mary Margaret stoked that thing every two days - it was like a restaurant's cuisine in this house.

He gave her a challenging smile. "Nope."

Her turn to rise a brow, giving him her super special I-am-a-lying-detector face. Which he hated. Because it worked every time, of course. "Really?"

He sighed, resigned. _Ha._ She won. "...okay, there may be something left but - I want takeaway!"

"Oh." Emma made a face at that - she _had_ had takeaway at the studio, after all.

"What is it?" He had seemed to read her face . No surprise there - he was quite the perceptive kid. He was _her_ kid, after all.

"I just - we already had that today, but whatever, we'll get you some and I'll eat whatever we have at home, 'kay?," she fumbled with her answer.

"Cool. Wait - where did you get takeaway? Regina hates it. She doesn't like it when I ask her whenever I stay with her!"

Damn this kid. He was too perceptive for his own good. Sighing and rubbing her forehead, and trying to ignore David's amused smile, she turned to her son again. "I left after Regina's meeting with Ruby to meet some clients - we got talking and then they invited us for lunch." She made a waving noise with her hand, like a magician would show some sort of trick. "And that's the fascinating story of how I got takeaway today. Now - can you please get your things so we can get going?"

He shrugged and smiled while turning towards the room he slept in whenever he stayed at David and Mary Margaret's. "Sure - no need to get defensive. It was just a question!"

She sagged her shoulders and turned pleading eyes to her brother and his fiancé, voice barely a whisper. "I cannot tell him."

David's mouth parted, flabbergasted. "What? Why not? He's your son. He has a right to know."

She shook her head, pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers. "He's too young - as much as I'd love to tell him, it'd be too risky to let him know about this. We were with one of the bandmate's kid earlier too - Gold insisted she didn't know either. He has to believe this is something real - something I'd want."

This only earned her an amused snort from Mary Margaret, who turned a pitiful glance in her direction. "Yeah, well, good luck with that, sister."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

She rolled her eyes at her again, as if the answer were more than obvious. "Emma - you haven't dated anybody in _ages_. And by ages I mean since - you know." She felt her body tense up at the name implied. "And you haven't shown any interest at all in any male whatsoever since then, for all I know."

David seemed to ponder that, cocking his head to the side. "Well, there's Graham..."

Her head snapped up in alarm at that and she threw her arms in the air, desperation edged on her face. "For the love of God, why does everybody think I have the hots for Graham?"

They both stared at her for a minute until Mary Margaret rose a brow. "Well, you do spend a lot of time together since you met, and he even joins us on saturdays... But wait, we haven't said a word about it until now - who else has said anything about it?"

Damn.

Cursing herself mentally, she tried to act nonchalant. "He called me earlier to tell me about promo next week," she answered, fidgeting with the keychain on her hand, just to not have to look at them, "and the guys wondered how close we actually are."

David's nose flared like a dragon's. "You mean this asshole is already dictating who you can see and who you can't, when you haven't even..."

"David!" She called him, giving him a panicked look signaling to Henry's room behind her. "Shut up! It was not like that okay? They were just curious. They are friends, after all."

That seemed to get their attention. "They are? How do they know each other?" Mary Margaret asked, curious.

...huh. She had forgotten to ask that. Oops.

"I don't know - maybe because him and Jones are both Irish? I'm not sure. I'll have to ask him."

"Graham... or Jones?"

She groaned a bit, but was saved to answer when the approaching sound of footsteps could be heard from Henry's room. She gave her brother a last apologetic look - which he answered to with a warning one of his own, big-brother-style-mask still in place - and span around to greet Henry, now wearing a light red jacket over his shirt and his backpack in place. "You ready to go?"

"Yep."

"'Kay" She walked towards the couch and briefly hugged her friend while Henry went to say bye to David, whispering in her ear a hushed "I'll call you or text tomorrow and as soon as I know the date for the signing." Mary Margaret nodded discreetly and gave her a small smile, approaching Henry next. She stood waiting for David's arm to drape over her shoulder, sighing contently when he did. She knew he was worried about her - he always was, not even after all these years he'd stopped being fiercely protective about her little sister, not after all they'd been through - but she also knew he'd finally give in and accept her decision.

As many crass decisions she had made in her life, the truth was, she wasn't a little girl anymore.

She stepped away from his arms, kissing briefly his cheek and putting a hand over Henry's shoulder, waving over her shoulder and promising to call and let them know when she'd drop her son over during the next week while she worked in the movie's promo. As they closed the door behind them, Emma clicked on the car keys' to unlock the vehicle. Henry ran to the backseat to leave his things and, before she had gotten there, he had opened the pilot's door for her. Giving him an amused look, she cocked an eyebrow at him. "What is it you're doing, mister?"

He shrugged, an impish smile stealing his features. "I'm being a gentleman. Duh."

And, for the second time that day, Emma dropped what she was holding in her hands in surprise at something that a ten-year-old had said.

_Well, fuck my life._

* * *

They had finally stopped at a Thai place Henry adored to pick something up for him and proceeded to go back home so they could both eat together. As Emma fixed something for herself in the kitchen, he chattered happily about what he'd done during the day at school and at Mary Margaret and David's. She had been supposed to take him to school that morning, but as Regina had called and told her about the 'special meeting', she had had to ask for help to her friend - that'd been the reason for her running late to Gold's. It bothered her when these things came up from nowhere because it made her lose precious time with her son, but he was used to it by now and he never complained - he never got mad at her, as much as he wanted to be with her too. He knew how hard she had fought for her place in the industry and how far she could get, how her entire being brightened up whenever she talked about a new role or a possibility of joining a project or working with someone she admired - and how crushed she'd be when she wouldn't be able to achieve something she had dreamt of. He had consoled her, helped her and been one of her biggest supporters, despite his young age.

He also knew how hard she had fought for him.

As he licked sauce from his fingers, Emma recalled a darker time in her life, when she had felt lost and petrified of the prospect of becoming a mother. When she had held that little plastic contraption in her hand, trembling like a leaf, mind spinning and sobs escaping from her lips at the panic that threatened to consume her. It had been Mary Margaret who had finally found her in the bathroom floor, absolutely paralyzed and hugging her sides so fiercely she had left marks in the pale skin of her hips. She hadn't even had to ask - did friends have some kind of superpower to know what was wrong with best friends? She would never know, though her bet was a mix between that and the pregnancy test lying on the floor beside her, - she had just sat on the floor with her, hushing and rocking her back and forth in her arms until her breathing finally calmed down and exhaustion consumed her.

They had discussed endlessly - along with Ruby, who had later found them both in the floor and had been filled in the situation at hand - about the options she had, though Emma, as much as she could struggle with herself and the outcome of her decision, had always known inside of her she could never 'get rid of the problem', as some douche in the clinic the three friends had visited the next day so she could get some tests run had called it. Nor was it giving him up.

She couldn't abandon him. She just - couldn't. Not after what she'd been through as a child.

If she hadn't found David, who knew what she'd had become. Who she may have encountered in her life. What would have been of her if no one had cared enough about her when thrown into the world after she abandoned foster care - she may have been broken by the time. Even having the most loving family she could ask for, she had committed as many mistakes as the next one - hello, she had gotten pregnant at 18, for fuck's sake - but just trying to imagine the possibility made her cringe.

She couldn't let that happen to him.

So, right from the moment she saw that plus sign in the test, she had known the daunting truth.

She was going to be a mum.

Of course, it hadn't been easy. Not at all. Not by a long shot. But surrounded by people who supported her every step of the way - her family, her new friends, people who she had let in and had not left her high and dry in the journey - she had made it. And holding her son in her arms for the first time, something so perfect, so fragile, so unique and full of wonder - she had known, no matter the pain suffered, the uncertainty of their futures, her studies, her dreamed career - it had all paid in the end.

Because she had him. And he had her. They had each other, that was all that mattered.

She was snapped out of her reverie when Henry waved a hand in front of her face. She rapidly shook her head, a fond smile tugging at her lips at the bittersweet memories of her younger, naive years as a freshman in college, where this motherhood adventure had started in the first place. "What? What is it?"

"You were so out of it! You didn't hear a thing I said, did you?"

"I did, I promise!"

He pointed his index finger at her threateningly. "You're a horrible liar!"

That only made her laugh. This kid, really.

"Look who's talking, Mr. There's-nothing-in-David's-fridge."

"...fine. But you were not listening!"

She deflated, knowing it'd be impossible to make him change his mind. And what for, really? She had not been paying attention, after all. She owed him the truth, at least. For now. She sat in front of the counter, letting her face lay on her arms. "I'm sorry, I'm a bit out of it. I had a busy day."

"Oh, I heard."

...He did?

"You did?"

For a ten-year-old kid, he looked like he had been practicing his smirking for years. "When were you going to tell me about your new boyfriend?"

"...what?" Well, at least this time she hadn't dropped anything. She had just hit her chin with the counter in her haste to lift her head to look at him.

The smirk had morphed now into a full on amused smile at her expense. "Some girls from school told me something about you and that singer from the Lost Boys at that party the other night."

She groaned, letting her head fall repeatedly over her arms laid in front of her in the kitchen counter. For the love of God, even ten year old kids read that crap? How the hell had they find out?

"How the hell did they find out about that?"

He gave her a chastising look, as if she were the ten-year-old and him her parent. "You know, even if _you_ won't let me have a phone, it doesn't mean other kids my age don't."

She snorted, momentarily amused by his comment. "Yeah well, why would a ten-year-old girl want an iPhone for is beyond me, let me tell you." It was beyond ridiculous. She really doubted they wanted it for calls, anyway. What would they even tweet or post on their Facebook statuses? Would it work as the diaries they'd all written in her youth - in actual paper and ink, mind you, not over a tactile screen? _'Dear diary: today we had lasagna. Matt pulled at my braid in gym and I kicked him in the shin in return. He's a jerk.'_

Ridiculous. She was better not knowing, really.

He shrugged. "I don't really care, you know."

"About not having a 'proper phone'?" She asked him, eyeing him from her place in the counter.

He scrunched up his nose. Ah, the nose. How she loved it. "Well, about that and about that singer guy." Before she could interrupt him, he continued. "I know most of the stuff they write in those magazines and on the internet has to be taken with a pinch of salt, but you can tell me if something's going on." She stared at him, frozen on the spot, looking completely stunned at his statement. How could he be so - so cool about this? They usually laughed at the rumors thrown around her whenever they had arisen (though there hadn't been so many of them, considering her lower profile in the industry), but him actually acknowledging this was something she wasn't used to. At all.

She clasped a hand over his, holding it tightly. "Henry, you know those are crap."

He squeezed back reassuringly, smiling, but continued the questioning. "So didn't you meet them? The Lost Boys?"

Emma let out a breath, ready for the onslaught. "Well, yeah, I did. They were there."

"Cool! What did you talk about with them?" He was practically bouncing on his chair.

"Wait - why are you suddenly so interested in them?"

He paused a bit and then shrugged. "I'm curious - I have heard some of their songs and they are pretty good..."

"You have?" Huh. Even her kid knew them. Did she really live under a rock?

She did, didn't she? Shouldn't surprise her at all.

"Yeah! You've never heard them? Then how did you get to meet them? Mum, did you embarrass yourself?"

She tried not to look too offended at his last comment, but decided to humor him nevertheless."I hadn't heard of them - well, apparently Ruby had made me listen to them sometime but I don't really remember it, you know how she likes to play anything she wants whenever we go together somewhere in the car."

Her son laughed at that, obviously familiar with her friend's eccentric ways. They had spent too many fun evenings together whenever his favorite aunt stayed with him: movie nights, chocolate filled meals and days spent outdoors enjoying the sunny weather - something she had been doing since he had been born. No wonder he adored her.

"...but I actually got talking to them because they were there with Graham."

Henry's eyes widened and he banged his fist in the counter, something he did when his level of excitement reached a higher level. As in, over-sugary high. What _had_ there been in that Thai meal? She should have checked the recipe. "Of course! Graham was in their clip!"

"...what?" Jesus, that seemed everything she could say today. What. Was. Going. On?

"Yes! You know, when music bands release music videos for the singles in their albums? They usually record stuff the singers themselves, or they use animations, or both - but sometimes they hire actors to play parts in them. You know, like in that one Eminem's song you didn't let me watch with the little guy from Lost and Megan Fox?" He shot her an annoyed look, as if he were still mad at her for not giving him permission to watch it.

She put a hand in the air. "I'm not going to apologize for that. You're ten, it was PG13."

"Whatever. Anyway, Graham was in The Lost Boys' last single - it was a really big hit, it had some kind of record or something. It was huge."

"Well, no surprise there - Graham tends to have that kind of effect on anything he touches." She knew that from experience: when they had been shooting, there were always groups of people - mostly female, of course - waiting around, even bracing the most awful weather she had ever suffered, expecting a chance to spot him and hopefully snatch a pic with him or an autograph to bring back home with them. As the kind soul that he was, as soon as they ended filming he'd try to greet them and stay for a while, giving them conversation and signing whatever they wanted.

He was that charming, really.

"Yeah well, him and the band together definitely worked then. And the song was _awesome_." He stared dreamily in front of him, probably recalling the memory of the song in his head, she guessed. She was curious now.

She finished munching an abandoned fry on his plate, looking at him under her lashes. "So you really like them, huh?"

"They look pretty cool. And if Graham likes them I'm sure they are," he answered, nodding with his head. "Now - what did you think? Did you meet the five of them, or just Killian Jones?"

Emma wasn't sure she had been ready to hear her son calling her future-for-all-purposes-fake-boyfriend's name. She let out a shaky breath, trying in vain not to look too panicked at the idea of debating anything related to the rockstar with Henry. Though, truth be told, she'd have to get used to the idea, wouldn't she? After all, the signing of the contract wasn't that far on the horizon, only a couple of days tops - and she'd have to tell Henry then she _was_ in fact dating the infamous Killian Jones.

She debated a bit with herself until she decided to start low. It wouldn't do her any good to suddenly tell him in a week's time after the press were informed or something of the sorts that her and Jones 'had' something - in fact, it'd only make him suspicious. He knew how to read her, so what better moment to start her acting than right now?

Though the thought of using her own child as a puppet for her acting was perfectly nauseous. She _hated_ lying to him.

Trying to calm her nerves, she tried to act a bit embarrassed at her next confession. "I actually first met the keyboardist - August? I'm not sure if you're such a groupie like Ruby that you know all of their names," she added, giving him a sideways teasing smile, to which he responded making a face at her, "and then I met the famous Killian Jones, whom everybody seems to know so much about."

He looked transfixed with this new piece information, staring at her captivated. "Woah. Were they cool?"

"Sure, they were nice enough."

"What about the other ones? Did you see them too?" Oh look, sugary excitement levels again.

She braced herself. "In fact, I met them today."

Henry stared at her, dumbfounded. "What?" Yay, it wasn't just her being a clueless bunny today!

Oh, but was she a terrible mother for being glad of her son's confusion.

"After my appointment with Regina, I met with their rep - a really _funny_" she made a weird face as she said it, not really knowing how to describe the man, "guy, who was at the party too and, seeing as I was friends with Graham and had met part of the band already, asked me if I'd like a visit to their studio."

The poor boy looked like he'd have a stroke in any moment. "You were in their studio?!"

"Yes."

"That's so cool! Can I come with you next time?"

"What, aren't movie sets and promo shoots and premieres not enough for you, mister?," she challenged her son, seeing how the prospect of being around the musicians seemed to amaze him. As much as she loved - and dreaded - seeing him excited over the possibility of visiting the studio and possibly - _not possibly, surely, Emma_ - meeting the band, she couldn't help but feel a bit put out. Wasn't she offering him awesome chances and places to visit too?

"Are you kidding, of course I love it - but this is different. This is music we're talking about! I'd love to see how they record there - and all the instruments there must be in there! Did you see many guitars? I would love to learn how to play. Do you think they'd teach me if you or Graham asked them? Philip's solos are superb, but Killian is really good too, though he's the lead singer so he's more focused in that, of course."

This was too much information to handle. Her son was asking for guitar lessons with the guy who'd have to pose as her boyfriend in the nearby future. And they hand't even signed anything yet.

Where was the hidden camera.

"You know what - I'll ask them, don't worry. But I don't think I'll get to hear from them until maybe next week." Under his questioning look, she answered. "We have promo all next week, Graham called to tell me."

He nodded with his head, accepting her words. "That's fine though. As long as I get to play the guitar with them in the end..." He paused mid speech and sent an accusing finger in her direction, again. What was with him today? "But first things first - you have to at least hear something of them!"

Oh, no.

She tried to plead with him, unleashing her fair of puppy eyes - who said he was the only one allowed to use them? "Really Henry? I am not that eager to become some crazy obsessed groupie as you all are - I am tired, I have had one hell of a day..."

"Yeah, you were really busy in The Lost Boys' studio and you didn't even know any of their songs - I bet you didn't even know all of their names!"

She blushed crimson red, remembering how she had fumbled at first with poor Philip, Victor and Jefferson's names, as transfixed she had been by the Killian and Grace show. "Well, no, but..."

"But nothing!" She snapped her head up, noticing that his voice was coming from down the hall leading to her room. He came back in record time, bouncing, carrying her laptop in his arms. He set it on the counter and opened it, running it and patting the seat beside him for her to sit. Knowing how stubborn he could be and how there'd be no way to change his mind once the idea was set in that head of his, she rounded the counter and sat, staring at the loading screen of her background - a picture of her, Henry, Mary Margaret, David and Ruby in Disney Land. They had spent the day not long ago at Ruby's insistence on how they all 'needed the day off' after some stressful weeks at work for everybody. They had ridden everything they could - Henry cheating his way into some of the rides standing on the tips of his feet so he'd be the permitted size - and even stayed for some kind of pirate spectacle they were given before the night fireworks display that Ruby had _also_ insisted they stayed for, even though they all were exhausted by that point.

And of course she had bought and made them all wear Mickey Mouse ears for the pictures.

Henry clicked on several links here and there while she tapped her fingers on the wooden counter, willing herself to remember to reapply some polish to her nails. Hearing a victorious "Aha!" from her son, she turned her gaze towards the screen to find a Youtube window open, the title _'The Lost Boys - Sinking or Swimming'_ visible and clear in bold black letters. Just as Henry was reaching his hand to click on the play button, she recognized the figures in the frozen image of the video - was that Killian...?

"Wait - I thought you were going to play the song?" Was that a tint of panic in her voice? Why would the possibility of seeing him actually singing one of his songs affect her that much?

He looked at her like she was out of her mind. He couldn't blame him. At all. "It's the music video I was telling you about - that way you'll hear their music and you'll see Graham's acting!"

_Click_.

Emma wasn't sure what she had expected, but definitely that hadn't been the case. In her mind, she had conjured Jone's band as the boy-band stereotype, despite Gold's warnings about how far from that they were. Now, watching them playing in the back of most of the scenes running along the four-minute clip, she couldn't deny how wrong she had been.

And their frontman, of course.

It wasn't difficult to guess why any director would have wanted to make him the leader in the video - opposite to Graham, of course. And both of them fighting for a gorgeous girl, for that matter.

As much as Emma would have liked to label it as a cliché - very _Mr. Brightside-ish - _she couldn't help but admire the heartfelt lyrics, the passion radiating from each word and how the harmonies coming from his voice and their instruments laced in a perfectly choreographed number that left her reeling and speechless. Not only that, but the story the video told was appealing and easy to relate in an emotional level: the dilemma she encounters, the possibility she is offered, the sense of responsibility of staying with her partner, the faithfulness she is breaking with her lover.

The choice.

You'd think, Emma mused to herself, that Jones would have put himself as the good guy in there - the white knight in armor and sword at the ready, while Graham could be the second one, trying to get the girl for himself and leaving the other. That was not the case, as both roles were complete opposites: Jones had taken the 'bad guy' character - and he owned it, to be honest. Though she guessed it wasn't that weird of him to make the decision, - did they even get to decide in the videos, or was it some director's call? - taking into account how douchey his own personality seemed to be on a daily basis. Especially towards women, or so had commented Jefferson in the meeting that day about his past trysts.

As the credits rolled, Henry turned to her, eyes expectant at her verdict. "So?"

She waited a bit, still staring at the minimized screen in front of her, now showing the band's logo - the same one that had been on the hoodie she had borrowed that day. "You were right, they're good. Though I'm not sure how they got away with that ending - I'm sure Jones threw a fit at not getting the girl in the end."

* * *

A couple of days later, Emma found herself laying on the bed, finally having a couple of hours for herself until she had to pick up Henry from Ruby's. He usually spend his days either at her place or at David's - and even at Regina's, who loved to take care of him every week or whenever she had to go away on shooting or something like that. But today it had been aunt Red's, so they both had happily marched to whatever crazy plan she had concocted for their day, leaving her some really needed free time.

Who would guess that what Emma Swan really enjoyed doing in her alone time was lie on her bed, read a book, watch a movie and eat junk food, right? It sounded so glamorous!

The truth was - she didn't care at all about being glam or chic or whatever some ass may think actresses should act or be. She just wanted to relax and try to forget for a little while about everything that was approaching her way: the upcoming promo - which had her a bit on edge, as for her last project it hadn't been so crazy, being this on a whole new level and all with Glass and Graham in it, - the dreaded fashion war with Mary Margaret about the different outfits for the interviews and the premiere, and, of course, the dreaded S day.

Signing day.

As far as she was concerned, she had been doing pretty well ignoring all of those: she had already watched a couple of episodes of her favorite TV show - including uncontrollable sobbing at one of the character's death, _why_, why did they have to kill off people?, - she had read a bit from the latest book she had bought - tears free, thankfully, for now, - and emptied a cup of chocolate ice cream with whipped cream.

Henry would not be amused at all when he found out.

After having a relaxing shower - and the always routine pretended Beyoncé concert in the bathtub - she made her way back to the bed, rubbing her head furiously with a towel, drying wet tresses of hair as to not to ruin her mattress. She opened her laptop, pressing play on some random playlist - in which Henry had added some of The Lost Boys' songs, she had amusedly found out the previous day - and then set out to answer some e-mails she had forgotten to check out lately: for Ruth, for some friends she had heard of not long ago, and even one from Mr. Gold she hadn't gotten to read yet.

Just as she was finishing telling Ruth about her schedule for the next weeks with promo-hell coming, her phone beeped on her bedside table. Not even bothering to stop typing with one hand, she reached with her left hand, feeling the wooden surface until she found the device. Sending her love to her mother, she clicked _'send'_ and proceeded to touch the screen on her phone to find a text from an unknown number.

_Forgotten so soon about me?_

Huh?

**_Huh?_**

Well, that was random.

_And here I thought our love was true..._

...oh God. Had some kind of freak found out her number and was accosting her? Fuck, fuck fuck. _Today_ of all days, when she was alone at home? Wait, no, thank God she was, if Henry were here he'd be in danger if someone showed up trying to hurt her. So worried she was trying to remember kick ass moves from the movie she had learned in training and chasing glances at both her window and door, she barely missed the buzzing of her phone.

_Tick tock, lass._

Oh, for fuck's sake.

**_Jones?_**

_The one and only._

**_How the hell did you get a hold of my number?_**

_The lovely Belle got it from Red Lips._

**_Red Lips? Seriously?_**

_What's wrong with Red Lips?_

**_I don't know - not original enough? Aren't you supposed to be some sort of lyric writer's god?_**

_Well, she does wear red lips. Swan, you're making me blush, but please do tell me more - a god? What else?_

**_She does, but that's no excuse to call her that. Um, let me think of it - god of innuendos? god of grating on my nerves? Am I close?_**

_Oh, not close enough, love._

**_There you are. Innuendo god._**

_Bet you love it._

**_Keep dreaming, buddy. What do you want, anyway?_**

_What? Can't I wish my lovely 'girlfriend' a good night via XXI st century fashion?_

**_..._**

_Swan, stop typing in morse, please, it's rude. English._

**_You're insufferable._**

_Pick it up._

Just before she could type a confused _'What?'_ in answer, the not-so-unknown number popped up on her screen, asking her imperiously to pick it up. Trying not to sigh, she pressed _'Answer'_. "What do you want?"

An unmistakable Irish brogue answered. "Hello to you too, sunshine."

Groan. Would this always be like this with this guy? "Do you really need to piss me off every damn time we talk?"

"But it's so easy." The amused tone gave him away.

"Whatever. What is it?"

He sighed, appearing resigned to finally tell her why he had contacted her. "Fine, fine - Belle asked me to inform you that the contract is ready, they already sent it via e-mail but you didn't answer so they guessed you had no problem with it...?"

Damn it, that was what Gold's e-mail was about.

"Oh, yeah I got it, but I haven't read it yet - I was just now checking my inbox so I'll get to it now as soon as I hang up."

"Aw, so eager to get rid of me, Swan?"

"Shut up."

"Whatever. She also asked me to tell you that the signing is tomorrow."

What?

"Tomorrow?"

He seemed unfazed by her surprised tone. Wanker. "Yeah, well, it's been nearly a week."

Had it? So soon? "Huh. Didn't feel like one."

"What do you..." Sudden silence fell over the line, as if he were listening intently to something going on on his side. Or hers. She wasn't sure. Tired of waiting, she interrupted him. "Okay, Jones, I have things to do - for starters, read the damn contract and make sure everything is covered or so help me, I'll end you."

"Sure, sure. Let me tell you something, Swan: you can add your own stipulations to it, remember? So..." She could practically hear the smirk through the line. "...make sure you include how in you are for PDA and kinky stuff, huh?"

She rolled her eyes even knowing he couldn't see her, just for the sake of that comment. Jesus. "Sure thing, Jones. See you tomorrow then."

"3PM at Gold's office. Wear another skirt, would you love? Don't hide those legs of yours."

"Ugh." She didn't even bother to say goodbye as she hung up. Looking fearfully at the laptop sitting in front of her, she braced herself for the dreaded truth: the contract she'd have to agree to in less than a day's time - and who knows for how long after that.

Just as she was positioning the computer on her legs, ready to click on the attachment Gold had sent in his message, she felt a buzz beside her thigh. Reaching out for her phone again, she was ready to send a piece of her more colorful mind to Jones if he dared to continue with his dirty mind when he read the text. From him, of course.

_Hope you like our song, Swan. Good night._

And for once, the Irish bastard was right: his song was playing, and she, in fact, liked it.

* * *

_**Hi guys! Long time no see! Sorry if this chapter was a bit late - last week we had a kind of vacation and I decided to visit my friends and family in Madrid; and then on Sunday we got all Paleyfest + episode feels and scarf and gah! You know what I mean. Fangirl stuff. Mixed with real life stuff. Ugh.**_

_**Anyway, here's the next chapter - some of you guys were really surprised at Henry showing up, though there had been little hints through earlier chapters about him. Not everything is revealed yet, of course - but here's some first info about it.**_

_**Hope you like it and you all are welcome to yell at me in the reviews section. Or send cookies. Whatever you prefer :)**_

_**P.D.: songs in replay during this chapter's writing - The Sounds' "Something to Die For" and The Verve's "Bittersweet Symphony". **_


	11. Chapter 11: The Signing

_**Disclaimer: None of this characters are mine. No Killian Jones, no Emma Swan, no Graham, no Ruby. Nope. If they did, we'd all hang out and I'd probably spend my days staring at their prettiness and perfection. Sadly, they all are owned by Disney, Adam Horowitz and Edward Kitsis, along with OUAT. Bastards.**_

* * *

How he hated alarm clocks.

God, he _abhorred_ them.

Letting out a low growl, he felt under his pillow, looking for his phone so that obnoxious song would stop ringing. He had stopped using actual clocks to wake him up - they didn't end up so well after he threw them from the bedside table in his morning carefulness and not-so-happy mood. He wondered why did he set up some song he actually liked to wake him up - he ended up resenting each one of them. It was utterly stupid.

Wow, Jones, such fascinating musings this early in the morning. Four for you.

After hitting repeatedly the 'end' button on the phone, he debated wether to finally get up or laze around in the covers, nuzzling in the warmth left after hours spent wrapped in them.

Getting up: actually moving. Putting on clothes. See people. Talk to people. Sign that contract. Sell your soul to Gold's deal.

Yeah, it didn't sound too promising from his deliciously warm bed.

Though the prospect of seeing Swan fret that afternoon perked him up, to be completely honest. A little smile tugged at his mouth at the thought.

Staying in bed: stay. In bed. Not moving. Letting his thoughts wander around. Relaxing. Holding soft pillow and covers to him in a loving embrace...

Yet it were moments like that when his treacherous mind recalled other nights spent in those same sheets, tangled in hushed whispers, passionate screams and sweet nothings murmured between sweaty limbs bracing in a loving mess.

That did it. His body jerking forward as if it were being propelled by some kind of mechanism, his breathing ragged, - as every damn time thoughts like these plagued his troubled mind, - he shook his head and gripped his scalp with his hands. Sometimes, little shocks of pain like this would make him forget about other wounds he sported. Wounds he had never told anyone about. Wounds not visible for the outer eye.

Who would have thought that Killian Jones was a scarred man.

His phone decided to beep in that same moment, and for once in his life he was positively gleeful for it. Snatching it from where he had left it before, he picked it up, not bothering to read who it was. "'Lo?"

"You're actually awake?" Victor knew better than anyone how he detested not sleeping in - he had been on the end of many of his early morning tantrums.

He stretched his arms over his head, his voice coming out a bit raspy. "As much as it may surprise you, actually, I am."

His mocking tone answered rapidly. "It does surprise me. For you, getting up before 12 is sacrilege."

"Shut up. I distinctly remember you throwing your bloody shoe at me for trying to wake you up once when we were on tour."

His mate was fast to interrupt him. "That was different."

"Of course it was. You were sleeping in a _bloody roundabout._"

They both burst out laughing, remembering the incident. Killian couldn't understand how he had gotten all the fall from this reputation and scandal thing - his friends were just like him or worse. He couldn't believe that night hadn't made it to the papers or something.

Though he _had_ tweeted a picture. One couldn't let that kind of moments pass you by and not do anything about it, could he? They were like wishing on a shooting star.

"That was classic." Victor sighed contentedly, like a proud grandfather would boast about some epic memory of his to his grandchildren. "Anyway, you're coming by for brunch, right?"

"Yeah, sure - studio or Philip's?"

"Studio. Aurora has no idea about the contract, remember?" Oh, right. He had forgotten about that. Poor lass - she'd be devastated when all of this ended and she realized she'd been left out of it. Though he'd sure have his fun teasing her about it.

Suddenly, the thought of how and when the deal would be off haunted him, making him shift uncomfortably in his place in the bed. God, but they hadn't even signed anything and he was what - sad? mourning? anxious? Yep, let's go with anxious - about it ending already?

_You're such a loser, Jones._

He focused again in Victor's voice. "We thought we would give you a last free man's morning and it'd be just us. You know, consider it like some kind of bachelor's party."

He rolled his eyes and let out a dark chuckle. "Dude, if you guys ever throw a bachelor's party for me, make sure it's not a fucking brunch, for God's sake. That's just depressing."

"Yeah, yeah - we know. Naked chicks. Loads of alcohol."

His voice perked up at that. "That sounds more about it."

"Yeah, I'm in for that too." He paused, like he was giving thought about it. "Wait - we could call some stripper for the brunch..."

They both laughed again. Victor's humor had always been refreshing to him, it was quite more like his in some ways than the others'. Shaking his head in amusement, he finally let go of the covers enveloping him and got on his feet. "'Kay, see you there in an hour, loser."

"See ya."

Picking some clothes from his wardrobe - why did their friends even care if he organized them in a color code was still beyond him, really, didn't they understand it was way faster and more comfortable that way? _Assholes_ - he made his way to the bathroom, eager to take a shower and get ready to get to the studio on time. Stripping off the light cotton shirt and pajama pants he wore to bed after he had turned on the water, - really hot, scalding hot, the kind of hot that left your skin pink when you came out of it, - he peeked at his reflection in the mirror, trying really hard to fight the urge to look at what his mind was eagerly telling him not to.

Ever had those times when you try to fight yourself - yet fail anyway?

He wasn't really fond of them, seeing as he usually didn't listen to anybody - not even his own mind.

So he looked, knowing full well he wouldn't like at all what he would see - or, more specifically, what it'd remind him of. He had had his quota of bad dreams about it these past weeks, after all. And he had to live with the memo about it around everyday, after all.

He turned his forearm so he could see the inner skin in the reflection of the mirror, studying it intently, tracing the contours of the dark ink with his fingers, remembering the stinging sensation the needle had left in its way while the tattoo artist had been branding it. How his teeth had gritted and his left hand had curled into a fist, veins showing in his neck and arm and face trying not to show the discomfort and slight pain it had provoked in him.

How a warm, pale, and smaller hand had taken his fist into hers and kissed it gently short afterwards. How he had turned his head and looked at her face, those hauntingly blue eyes, that brilliant smile, full of love, trust and awe, everything he had never even thought we would be in the end of receiving. How that face could make him drop everything and go fight a battle, slay a dragon, bring down a star. Anything.

He looked down at the lines conforming the carved cage, the dark and firm strokes drafting the fragile yet regal looking bird inside of it. Steam billowed around him, fogging up the shower panes and the mirrors in the wall, tiny drops of water condensing on his skin and hair. He closed his eyes tightly, his face a mask of pain as he gripped his left arm over the design, as if it would make it disappear from his sight as soon as he lifted it.

He had found out long ago it didn't work like that. How he wished it did, though.

He turned on his feet, opening the shower door with a rough shove and letting himself in, ignoring the lump in his throat and the turmoil of feelings that the fucking thing had started inside him.

But there are as much things as water can clean, or cure. Or make you forget.

And the memory of a beautiful, elegant key tattooed on her skin wasn't one of them.

* * *

An hour later, he was opening the door to the studio where his mates were already setting the goods in the table where not a week ago they had shared a meal with Swan and Red Lips. He smirked to himself, suddenly recalling the blonde's reaction at his nickname for her friend. The girl was too touchy, really - she was ready to jump at him at the slightest tease.

Though that kind of loyalty for her friends' sake was admirable, he'd give her that.

He dropped his share of the provisions with the rest and ran to grab a coffee from Jefferson's place. The bassist was always in charge of coffee and tea: he was a freaking connoisseur, and had insisted on teaching all of his bandmates about the matter. He was a proper theine and caffeine junkie; he could be always seen with a cup around - except when they went out: that's where the liquor would make an appearance. No wonder Gracie's favorite make-believe playtime was having her dolls sharing a cup of tea and some scones (he had taught her about those, to her father's dismay). He turned to him, taking an apple in his hand and cleaning it on his shirt. "Where did you leave Grace?"

"She's with Aurora - she was dying to stay with her for a day so they could dress up and do 'girly stuff', as she so eloquently put it," he said, smiling fondly. He wasn't the least surprised - Aurora did enjoy her playtime with the girl, and though they teased her endlessly about it, she never caved to accept how much she really did like pretending to be a princess and being rescued by her oh-so-perfect prince. Or just having a nice tea date with her niece's toys, just to see the kid's smile.

He was ready to bite the apple when a smooth voice made him jump.

"So - you ready?"

"Huh?" He spun around, just as August clasped a hand on his shoulder and shook him lightly. His friend's eyes raked over his face. For fuck's sake, why did he always look so worried? He was no damsel in distress. He rolled his eyes at him, making clear that he didn't need saving. At all.

"What, you think I'm chickening out now?"

"Of course not. You're not the cold feet type." He studied him intently for a bit and added, "though, of course, this_ isn't_ a wedding..."

"Damn well it is not, if it were we would have had naked chicks and alcohol," Victor interrupted, coming to stand beside him, a silly grin plastered on his face. Killian barked out a laugh, pumping fists with him remembering their conversation that morning. At their friends' confused faces, they laughed even harder.

Some things never changed. Teasing the rest of your friends when you shared an inside joke with someone _was_ one of them.

They had their dishes in a comfortable mood, in the familiar way that managed to put Killian at ease after the troubled morning he had had so far, spent between laughs, sudden ideas thrown around about possible upcoming songs and melodies - and even potential names for them ("I am rather liking Red Lips, don't you think? I see it. I can see it guys," Victor had declared after a few comments on the texting shared between Killian and Emma, staring dreamily into space, no doubt picturing those same red lips. Ha. He was particularly eager to see how that would work - and how Swan would react to his mate's interest in her best friend).

Suddenly, Philip cleared his throat, pumping his chest lightly with his free hand while raising his coffee in the other. "Gentlemen, I'd like to propose a toast."

They all shared an amused look, taking their own drinks in their hands and mimicking his friend - a low "who made him the best man? Jones, you'd better make me the best man, or I'll cut your balls off" whispered under Victor's breath and the rest of their answering chuckles. They waited expectantly until Philip continued. "To the lovely fake union of our own beloved leprechaun, the one and only Killian Jones," they all cheered, clapped and wooted at him, laughing until he got up and waved as if here were royalty, guffawing. Philip shushed them, waving his hand impatiently so they would let him go on, "yeah, as I was saying, the union between this bastard _and_ the beautiful, funny and talented Emma Swan."

They all cheered, catcalls from Victor included. Killian let his jaw drop, utterly bemused. "She's not even here, why are you even bothering to kiss her ass?"

Philip shrugged. "I am not - I am stating facts."

"Are you? Sure. Wait - is she here? Is she listening? Swan, come out now!" He faked looking around at invisible cameras, smirking the whole time. Jefferson looked up at the ceiling, rolling his eyes at his antics. "You're such a tool."

"Come now Killian. Not even you can't deny she is beautiful. And funny. And talented," August called from his seat at the other end of the couch.

"As a matter of fact, I can."

The keyboardist made a gesture with his arms, inviting him to continue. "Oh, pray tell."

Right before he started his tirade, he could hear Jefferson grumbling under his breath, "this'd better be good. He's practically marrying the girl and here he is, talking trash about her."

"I am _not_ talking trash. I just am pointing out things about her that my dear mate here just said, as if she were some kind of angel fallen from the sky."

Philip threw his arms up, exasperated. "I didn't..."

Shushing him as if he were a child, Killian went on, raising a finger in the air, counting. "Semantics, mate. First: beautiful." He paused, picturing long, blonde curls, green deep eyes, porcelain skin. Pouty lips. Those tiny freckles on her nose. Lovely shoulders. And legs.

_JONES_._ You're taking too long. Answer. Anything. Now. _"I won't deny she is hot... but I've had better."

They all groaned, August even face-palming himself in the process. "Charming, aren't you? Is that what you say to every girl you try to get into bed?"

He gave his mate his best bitch smile, courtesy of Miss Swan. "You're hilarious." He kept going, raising another finger. "Second: funny. Well, considering every time she opens that mouth of hers is to insult me, I don't see it."

"That's because she's defending herself or acting disgusted at your innuendos, you dumbass."

He waved his hand in the air. "Same old, same old. I'll have you know, most girls would be thrilled to be on the receiving end of my innuendos."

_They really were._

"That's what she said." Victor piped with a laugh, followed by the rest of the boys. Killian pointed accusingly at them, "See? When he does that you all laugh, yet when I do you all call me names. I hate you all."

Philip got up from his seat and approached him, pinching his cheek mockingly. "Awwwwwwwwww, poor Jones - he is not loved enough."

"Come here, you big baby," followed August from beside him, arm draped over his shoulder, shoving him affectionately. He feigned ignorance at them, trying to maintain some kind of composure.

Jefferson left his cup on the table and added, smirking, "I bet you'll be having love now - you know, signed and on paper and basically _bought_, but love nevertheless."

"Yeah, right - I really don't think Emma will be so eager to get into bed with him." August snorted.

"Who said bed? At least some cuddling and kissing."

_Oh, God. _"What every guy wants. Cuddling."

Jefferson got up from his seat on the couch and clapped, gaining their attention. "Guys, we should get going - we have to be at Gold's in half an hour. Let's clean this up, shall we?"

As they all raised from their seats, carrying containers and cups up and down the room, Philip called Killian from the end of the room. "Talented."

"What?"

"Talented. I said that Emma was talented, yet you didn't refuse or argue over it."

He stopped in his tracks, momentarily lost in thought. Huh. He had forgotten about that one. He shrugged it off. "Well, as I haven't really seen her acting or watched anything she's in, I cannot judge her on that one, I guess."

They all froze in place, looking at him like he was crazy. It was August who finally uttered an awed "you haven't?"

He looked at him curiously. What was it? "Nope."

Even Victor looked sheepish at the thought. "Why not?"

"I don't know, I forgot...?" Why were they so spooked about it?

"Dude, what do you expect to talk about with her if you don't even know what she does?"

He scoffed, getting annoyed at their blaming tones. "I know what she does. She's a bloody actress."

"Yet you don't know how many movies she has been in, or the projects she may be starring in. Research, Jones, ever heard of it?" August's cocked eyebrow only made him grow even more annoyed.

"Yeah well, Gold and Regina told us already about how this last project of hers was a big deal, I do know about it, so what's the matter?"

"Do you even know what the movie is about, or how it's even _called_ for that matter?"

"No."

"For the love of..." August interrupted himself, giving him a father-chastising-his-son look. "You're really something, Killian. I really don't get you: you agree to this contract, somehow giving up your whoring ways and whatnot in order to 'save the band' and all - with this girl who is ready to actually _help_ our sorry asses... and yet you don't look at all interested in actually holding your end of the deal."

He stared at him, affronted. "What has me watching the movie she has starred in has to do with anything?"

"Well, in order to make a relationship work - as fake as it may be in this case - most couples try to actually _get_ to know each other, you know. She has, at least," he answered.

Wait. What had he said?

"What?"

He sent him a curious look, like he was trying to tell if he was lying or not. "You do know she has been listening to our songs, don't you? She texted me about it."

His stomach tightened at that. He wasn't really sure for what reason exactly - for her actually listening to their songs, as he recalled from their conversation the previous day, showing that she had been at least a bit curious about their music - as he knew she hadn't known about their band prior their meeting in the Gala - or for her texting August.

He liked to think it was the former.

His friend sighed, zipping up his customary black leather jacket and taking his helmet from the shelf. "Promise me at least you'll try to watch the freaking trailer or rent her last movie this week, will you?"

He nodded, shrugging on his own jacket and grabbing his glasses, following his friends out of the building to where their rides were parked. He took his keys from his jacket's pocket, letting himself in as he spied August mounting his bike and the rest of them getting into their respective cars.

"You want a ride, blondie?" He asked Victor, blowing him a kiss, trying to lighten the mood after his argument with August.

"In your dreams. Race you to Gold's office?"

He smirked at him. "Thought you'd never ask." They both shared a knowing look until they heard Jefferson clapping from his driver's spot. He always clapped twice whenever he wanted to change the subject. In this case, no racing allowed apparently, as he sent them a withering glance. "Boys - no funny business. Let's get all of us alive, okay?"

"Yes, mom," he answered, lowering the glasses onto his eyes and starting the ignition, driving first out of the parking lot and into the hellish maze of Los Angeles' traffic.

* * *

Sometimes he wondered if children really grew up. At all.

Especially when you're inside an elevator with four other guys in their late twenties and all they seem capable of doing is jump lightly at the same time so the cabin will tremble in its journey up, laughter echoing on the walls and playful shoves included.

Killian liked to think their band's name was literal in situations like these. They acted like real kids. And yet, he loved to play along with them.

Finally leaving the lift, they trudged to Gold's door together, exchanging jokes between them and not appearing at all like they were all about to sign some paper that would surely affect the five of them from that very day until some uncertain future.

Killian couldn't be more grateful about that fact. He knew, at least, they'd always be on his side.

As cool as he could act towards this day and how he had tried to brace himself for it in his mind in this past week, he still found himself bloody terrified of the idea. Not only he was not relationship material, - don't get him started on _fake relationship_ material - the fact that the media would be on his tail again now that they'd be giving them something to play with wasn't really sitting him well, considering how it had gone in the past. Even though he knew now it was them taking matters into their hands and it was Gold and Regina - and Emma and him, of course - holding the reins, he was rather wary about it nevertheless.

He wasn't exactly eager of people's reaction to this, either. He was bloody terrified that maybe this crazy plan of Gold may backfire and leave them all with their ass in the street. Though he was sure it wouldn't be the case - both Emma and his reps had told them that much or they wouldn't have come up with this in the first place - it was normal to feel cautious about everything at this point, wasn't it?

He tried to convince himself of this and ignore the little voice inside of him yelling how he knew he was afraid of only one reaction to this whole mess. One female reaction with a matching tattoo to his, specifically.

Thoughts of her plaguing his mind, they suddenly morphed into his other source of headaches lately.

For that matter, he was slightly anxious at his partner in crime, Ms. Blondie Extraordinaire. The Swan girl. Emma.

As much as he could whine about her being judgmental, bitchy, jumpy, not at all welcoming of his charm and flirting, and an overall party pooper, he could at least admit she was one hell of a kind. She was a tough lass, she was fierce and witty, she didn't back down at any challenge thrown at her, she was loyal and impressively sweet with kids, if her interactions with Grace had proved anything...

...she was there.

He stepped into the room nearly tripping after Jefferson. Quietly composing himself, he quickly inspected the occupants of the office waiting for them, all mingling in front of Gold's over-organized desk as he slowly approached them with his boys. Belle and Gold were casually leaning against the desk, holding hands discreetly while each one of them held a different conversation: Gold spoke in hushed whispers with Regina, whilst Belle listened intently and smiling to something that Red Lips was telling her, all waving hands and high-pitched squeals. On Regina's other side stood a man whom he had never seen before, though he suspected was Emma's brother: he was blonde, pale skinned and broad shouldered, fit. Funny, brother and sister weren't that alike, even though both of them were blondes and had clear eyes...

He possessed an air about him though- calm, fair, but no softie. He wouldn't like to be on this guy's bad side.

Well, they'd have to see how that went, he thought with an inner smirk. He wasn't about to drop his games with Swan over the possibility of her brother's fist meeting his jaw in the near future.

He guessed the petite brunette holding Swan's brother's hand was his girlfriend. Wait, hadn't she mentioned they were engaged? He examined her briefly, taking in her pixie-like features - she was positively tiny, wasn't she? he thought, amused - until he saw the ring on her finger. _Jackpot_. Fiancé it was, then. He observed how she moved in complete synch with her man: he leaned, she did too; she turned, he did too. It was as if they gravitated towards each other.

As couples in love did.

That left Swan, standing between Red Lips and her future sister-in-law.

If he hadn't been able to say anything earlier about her acting skills as he hadn't had the opportunity to see her, now he could. And boy, could she act: head held high, lips smiling at her friend's story in the appropriate moments, hands laced in front of her. But he could read her.

And, despite how she was attempting to fool everyone in that office giving the impression that she was sure and calm, he could easily see she was not. He wondered if he was able to do so because of his own unease about it, or just because he felt she was such an open book for him to read.

He stopped his analysis of her performance to openly stare at her when he realized she was once again showing off those legs of her. He smirked, noting she had not given him the satisfaction of wearing a skirt as he had asked for, but opted for a pair of shorts instead. Really short shorts. Sneaky lass.

What really caught his attention though was that both her and Red Lips were wearing matching black hats. In fact, her whole outfit was quite similar to her friend's. He chuckled to himself: he would bet his guitar she had had no say in the matter of her clothes. It screamed _"Ruby's doing"_. He saw from the corner of his eye how Victor eyed the brunette as she turned on the spot, realizing they had arrived. "Finally! You guys are here!"

All eyes turned to them then. Suddenly feelings a bit conscious, he tried to play it off, wearing his trademark smirk in place and winking at Belle, who only chuckled and nodded at him from beside Gold. He then posed his eyes on Swan, who had started fiddling with the few strands of hair framing her face from under the hat, avoiding his gaze completely.

_Yeah, well, a little too late to be shy, are we, Swan?_

He marched into the room with his mates, all of them exchanging pleasantries and hugs with the petite clique. He hugged Belle and lightly thumped Gold on the back, and then turned to exchange a brief, yet firm handshake with Regina, who smiled thinly at him - probably trying to convey in her look a clear warning about how he should treat her protégé.

He was then pushed by Red Lips before he even could protest until he was standing before pixie-face. "Killian - this is Mary Margaret. She is David's fiancé, and she's, like, the best fashion designer you'll ever meet in your sorry excuse of a life."

"Gee, thanks, lass." He gave her an exhausted expression, if not with a bit of amusement by the girl's obvious admiration for her friend's work. He faced this Mary Margaret lass again - whom was now examining him closely, a curious look on her face as she did. He felt like squirming a bit under her scrutiny, was that intense the way her eyes pierced him. She quickly put on an smile and held her hand for him to shake politely. "Hi, Killian. It is really nice to meet you, we've heard quite a bit about you."

He stared back at her, not sure how to take that. Did she mean it like a bad thing...? Had she read and heard all the crap they'd written about him? Had Swan talked about him? _Well, of course she would have said something, you idiot, why would they both be here to sign the damn contract if they didn't?_ But - had she said anything else? Had she whined about how she hated him?

He really was better off not knowing, really. Cocking an eyebrow at her, he shook her small hand in his and cracked a smile. "Oh, I bet you have. It's nice to meet you too. Though I'm afraid your friend hasn't really mentioned you."

Ruby gasped from his side, aghast. "She has!"

"No, she hasn't," he countered in a sing-song voice.

"Emma!" Oh, Red Lips. Really?

"What?" Poor Swan. There she was, on his other side, a bewildered expression on her face, as if asking 'what have I done?'. He grinned at her in exchange.

"Oi, Swan, fancy meeting you here - where is that skirt you promised me?"

Her brother's face turned beet red, his nostrils flaring. "WHAT?"

"David!", Swan was fast to interrupt, holding a hand in his brother's face as if she could stop the onslaught of curses he sure as hell looked like he wanted to spew at him. _Good job, Jones. Charming the fake in-laws? Check. _Swan sighed, inclining her head, and for an irrational moment, his fingers itched to move and lift her chin to make her look at him, as he couldn't see her face under her hat and blonde locks. He put his tingling hands inside his jeans pockets.

Just in case.

Swan sighed and finally locked gazes with him. "Yes, Jones, I passed on the skirt. Moving on - this is my brother David. David, this is Killian Jones. Now - I expect you two to be civil and not act like freaking children, okay?," her eyes glowed with determination, daring both of them to defy her. He smiled innocently, like a kid caught with his hand inside the cookie jar - the same hand he offered to David. He waited a bit until he relented, heaving on a sigh and clasping his hand with unnecessary force, though Killian pretended not to notice.

A testosterone thing. Or Alpha male thing. Whatever. Guy stuff.

He looked from one sibling to another, inspecting them closely. "You two don't look that much alike - you're no twins, right?"

Ruby snorted from her side, and Mary Margaret covered her mouth with her hand as to not show her laugh, all manners. His brow furrowed, he turned to look at Swan, who stared into the ceiling as if asking to some unknown god for patience. "That's because we're not actually related, you genius. He's my adoptive brother."

To say he froze in place was an understatement. Wait - he was adopted? Or she was? August's earlier words about research rang in his head at the moment. Fucking hell, why was he always right? Before he could recover from his shock, though, she had punched lightly David in the arm and added, "his mother adopted me when I was 16."

Oh God. Did that mean she had been in the system until she was a teenager? No one had wanted to keep her? No wonder she was that tough. And rebellious. And protective. And stubborn. And simply... Emma.

A lost girl. Like them.

And now a little piece of the puzzle that was Emma Swan had suddenly fallen into place, and he felt transfixed by it.

And he felt himself compelled to complete that puzzle.

August and Philip's presence behind him approaching to greet Emma and her family pulled him out of his thoughts - and his not-so-subtle-staring at the blonde at his side. They hugged and introduced themselves to Mary Margaret and David - who was, Killian noted, way more friendly towards them now that he was a bit apart, and started a conversation about the band and their upcoming wedding, Ruby piping in as soon as she heard something involving 'bridesmaids' and 'dresses'. He studied their interactions carefully until he noticed her beside him. She was staring ahead of them at the curious group with a fond expression on her face, transfixed as he was. When she realized he was gazing down at her, she locked eyes with him, and he just - looked. Looked at her knowing what she was, what she had been.

And if someone knows anything about lost boys, is that they all share the same look in their eyes.

Cutting abruptly the heavy connection between them, he fisted his hands in his pockets and released a breath, thinking of something to say to break the ice. "So - what's with the hat?"

Her voice sounded a bit breathless when she answered, a hand coming up to pat the hat on her head. "Ruby's idea, of course. What? You don't like it?"

He pated it over her own hand, fingering the rim of it slowly. "I do. Though I could think of better uses for it, you know."

She cocked a perfectly arched eyebrow, scrunching up her nose, not moving her hand from underneath his. "Please don't say some kind of dirty stripper dance involving a tie and a hat."

"My, Swan - I didn't know you had it in you. I'm much more inclined to sign this thing now..."

He couldn't help his satisfaction at seeing the tiny smile that formed in her lips. Or the fact that his hand was scorching from the place where her skin was touching his. Just as she was about to retort something, Regina called for their attention, and she dropped her hand hurriedly.

He was taking any of it.

Leisurely, he adjusted the hat on her head, tilting it a little backwards so it wouldn't shadow her face. He then let his fingers come down to her face, and he heard her gasp as he grasped that lock of hair which always ended up escaping from her ponytails or her messy buns or just to annoy him and beg him to actually move it from her face, as it had happened when he had bandaged her hand in the studio before they were interrupted. He played a bit with it, noticing how soft it was and how it curled around his finger, and he finally carefully placed it behind her ear, making sure to caress her earlobe in the process. He saw how the blush staining her cheeks spread to her chest and neck, and he felt his heart pick up a beat.

Taking a step back from her, he appraised her, all flushed cheeks and green wondering eyes and blonde strands escaping from under the dark shadow of the hat.

"There. Now it's perfect."

* * *

Trying to put the hat-lock of hair incident in the back of his mind - which was proving to be quite hard, if he said so himself,- Killian tried to focus in Gold and Regina's words. He really wasn't paying much attention - they had already discussed this, and they had sent him the contract, even though he hadn't read it, just browsed over it - what for, really?. He kept drumming his fingers on his leg, humming new melodies that came to mind while the rest of the assemble around him hummed and 'aha'ed at the managers' words. He carefully avoided Emma's stare - although he suspected she was avoiding his as much, he pondered as he spied from the corner of his eye how she fiddled with the pendant hanging from her neck (was it a clock?) until Mary Margaret's hand grabbed hers, trapping the ticking mechanism in her fist.

Unadulterated friendship, that one. He could see why her, Red Lips and Swan got along so well. The three of them balanced each other perfectly.

He suddenly felt a hand grab his forearm, and he saw how Victor shoved him a bit, pushing him out of his seat. Before he could protest about him looking for his own bloody place in the couch, he realized Emma was standing up too, and he finally understood.

They were doing it.

...well, not _doing_ it. They were _signing the contract_.

They got to the end of the desk where the papers were laid, two ridiculously elegant and probably expensive-as-fuck pens perfectly set on the place where both of their signatures should go. The blank empty space at the bottom of the document seemed to mock Killian, taunting him with the upcoming changes he was about to commit to. Something warm touching his arm made him jump a bit, and he observed it had been Emma walking by his side, who was trembling faintly as she approached the papers.

As they stopped right in front of them, he tried to ease her nerves in the only way he knew. "Wait - are there no vows here to exchange or what?"

He heard Victor bark out a laugh from his place on the boys' couch, adding something along the lines "no naked chicks, no vows!", prompting into some discussion between them and Emma's friends - he was sure her brother had something to say about that. That had been his intention all along. He took the pen in the right side in his hand, and he saw Emma took the other one. They locked gazes once more, and he felt that insane urge to hold her hand, or her, or something, to appease her.

All he did, though, was ask her in a low voice, "Are you sure?"

At his words, she seemed to deflate. She steeled herself, straightened her spine and a bold look took over her eyes. Her entire demeanor changed, as if she had just needed to see him in another light. She gave him a sugary smile, and holding one hand over the paper and the other scribbling a flourish in the blank box with her name under it, she added, "my, Jones - you sound like you're taking my virginity."

He smirked. That was his Swan. He followed her actions, signing in his respective place, and giving her a pointed look, licking his lips. "Well, seen as this is a fake relationship, we could always fake our first time too if you're for it..."

Before she could go back to her seat beside her friends and as his were closely getting up so they could sign their own respective documents, he whispered in her ear "...Emma Moira Swan."

She spun around and openly stared at him, confusion etched on her features and open-mouthed. He grinned unabashedly, returning to his seat, as he heard Ruby screaming excitedly "YAY, NEW COUPLE ALERT! Can we make it Facebook official already?"

Regina's voice could be heard, cool and demanding, among the laughter and whistles they were all exchanging. "Not so fast - not until Miss Swan and Mister Jones are seen together this week in their first date, of course."

* * *

_**Hey there! **_

_**So - it's official! Not FB official, as poor Ruby expects - (I do too) - but pretty official, I'd say. And there we have the tip to their first official appearance together...! **_

_**Thoughts? Chocolate ice-cream? Tomatoes on my door? Anything and everything is welcome!**_

_**Oh, by the way - for all of you guests who are reading and whom I cannot reply to, thank you so much for your kind words! X**_

_**Special mention to my lovely friend aka fiancé aka soulmate Christine, who is turning 21 today and whom without this story would have never, ever, eveeeeer à la Taylor Swift been posted, as she was the one who encouraged me to write it and actually publish it.**_

_**PS: Avril Lavigne was playing while I wrote this chapter and my inner-teenager-dressed-à-la-Avril-but-without-skateboard-skills cried for it. A lot. **_


	12. Chapter 12: The Date (I)

_**Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or Once Upon A Time - the trolls Edward Kitsis and Adam Horowitz do. If I did, I'd make them canon faster than lighting.**_

**Note: Okay, this was turning into a monstrously ginormous chapter, so I decided to split it in two - don't worry, I have most of it written so it won't be too long until it's up!**

* * *

Emma walked back to the couch on slightly trembling legs, the echo of her whispered name still ringing in her ears.

_How the hell did he know?_

She looked over to him, sitting on the other side of the room just as the rest of the band got up in an organized mess to go over their papers, grinning at her perusal of his face. Damn him. He cocked his head to the left, and signaled to the desk where the boys were fighting for the two pens and laughed at each others' signatures, between "it's such a chick's autograph, is this what you write in posters and pics for the fans?" and "Shut up!". She followed his gaze, and saw the documents they had just signed.

Oh. _Oh._

_That bastard._

Of course her complete name would be stated in the signing box - and he had had the nerve to spy on it! She hadn't even realized it was there - weird, taking into account she usually scrunched up her nose whenever she was reminded of it when she had to fill any formal papers or whatever. Turns out, she wasn't really fond of her second name as it was. Sure, it was a pretty name. It was quite unusual.

Though it wasn't unheard of orphans to resent their biological parents for bothering to name them before dropping them in the side of a roadway, after all.

She mustered all her annoyance in the stare she sent him, to which he just shrugged and grinned wider. She was interrupted from her daydream of possible ways to torture the fucker when she heard Ruby squeal something about being Facebook official - _this girl, really_, she thought fighting the urge to latch her hand on her friend's mouth for a minute. It was Regina's answer to the brunette's plea that got her attention back to the conversation going around her.

"Not so fast - not until Miss Swan and Mister Jones are seen together this week in their first date, of course."

She turned horrified eyes to Mary Margaret, who was sitting on her left waiting for her turn to sign along with David and Ruby right after the rest of The Lost Boys. She seemed to sense her momentary panic and grabbed her hand forcefully, as she had done earlier to try to ease her nerves right before it was her turn. It was silly of her to be this panicked at that stage of the game, she chastised herself.

But, playing in her mind the possible scenarios of this imminent first date with Jones, she couldn't help but wish to crawl into her bed and hide her head under the pillow and not leaving it in a week. Or forever. She'd pay Henry to bring her meals and join her there watching movies and reading his fairytale book and whatever he wanted - on the condition of never getting out. Being hermits didn't sound so bad, did it? She'd be fine with that.

Sadly, the ink of her name on that damn document surely hadn't even dried yet, binding her to whatever the outcome may be of this.

She felt the warmth of Mary Margaret's hand leave hers as she got up too with David and Ruby, her hat wearing friend wiggling her hips playfully and winking at her when she passed in front of her. She turned to Regina whilst her family added their names to the contract. "What have you guys planned for this coming out thing?"

Right after the words left her mouth, she regretted them. She put her head in her hands, closing her eyes with a sigh, and yet she could hear his snort and mocking words. "Coming out, huh Swan? I really hope they heard me when I asked about the threesome option, so if you feel like inviting some lady to any of our future dates..."

Before she could say anything, her brother stepped in front of her and sent him a menacing look. "Shut up Jones. You'll probably want to treat my sister with more respect if you don't want to go perform with a black eye."

She took his hand in hers and pulled him until he was sitting beside her again, not bothering to look at her fake boyfriend. "David - I can handle this on my own, okay?"

"I know you do. I just don't like the way he talks to you," he said, frowning. She rolled her eyes.

"For the love of God - he's just being a cocky ass. I've dealt with worse."

He looked at her sadly, rubbing his thumb over her hand reassuringly, and whispered so no one else would listen, "that's what I'm worried about."

A shiver ran down her spine at the implications of his words, knowing exactly what he meant by them. Even if she had given pretty much up on the whole dating thing for years - except from some random night tryst, and those were extremely rare for her and she hadn't had one for years, - she hadn't always been a cold-hearted bitch towards the whole love thing. She had been once a naive girl, falling prey to another teasing, cocky asshole.

And she had actually fallen for him in the end.

Making an effort to compose herself, she hissed back to him, "not this time", and went on to question Regina about the whole first date thing. She noticed how Jones had been examining the entire exchange between her and her brother, a pensive look on his features, as if he were trying to find the answer to some difficult puzzle.

_Yeah, well, dream on, bastard. _

She wondered if she'd ever stop calling him that in her mind. Or actually saying it. Ever.

"Mr. Gold and I thought it'd be perfect for a first outing a dinner date," her manager went on as if nothing had happened, all business. Bless her.

Mary Margaret smiled from her place beside her fiancé. "Oh, fancy." Regina smiled back, pleased that her idea seemed to be welcomed.

"Did you have any place in mind specifically?" Philip asked, back to his place on the armrest of the guys' couch. She turned back to Regina, curious too. She wasn't that much into fancy restaurants, except when she was traveling and she felt compelled to try anything typical from the region or traditional dishes. She was all for exotic food, and she usually was fine with trying the weirdest thing the place had to offer - she had even tried _chapolines_, fried grasshoppers, that one time she had been to Mexico with her friends back in uni.

Let's just say it hadn't been pretty.

Regina nodded. "_Il Cielo_, in Beverly Hills."

The room filled with low whistles and "ohhhhhh"s.

"Italian?" Jones inquired.

"No kidding?" She rolled her eyes at him. What a genius. He gave her an unimpressed look, and she readjusted her hat, blocking his view and wearing her best innocent face.

The hat that _he_ had previously fixed on her hair. How could he turn something so simple as adjusting _a freaking hat_ into something so sweet and hot at the same time, she was still trying to find out.

She welcomed Ruby jumping a bit from her left, excited - _surprise there_ - for bringing her out of her traitorous thoughts involving warm hands, hats, stupidly piercing blue eyes and locks of hair. "Oh my God. _Il Cielo_ is, like, one of the fanciest ones out there! It's famous for the celebrity spotting!"

August looked at her friend with an amused smile. "Ruby, you are starting to sound like some stalker, you know that?"

She really was.

"Oh, shut up," her friend laughed. Huh, whenever she called her that, Ruby would punch her in the arm or start a tirade explaining why she was _not_ a stalker. Here, a cute guy from a successful band said anything among those lines and all they got was a giggle and a flutter of eyelashes. Not fair.

Gold cleared his throat, ruffling all the documents in his hands, now signed, after counting them and making sure there was nothing left, and giving them back to Belle so she could check them for a final time. "As Ms. Lucas has pointed out..."

"Ms. Lucas?" Victor cocked an eyebrow at the girls on the opposing couch, and Ruby lifted her arm in the air, her lips forming an embarrassed smile. Oh, this was good. It was about time she teased her friend after she had suffered her jokes and taints over pretty costars and possible suitors for the last years. Payback _is_ a bitch, or so they say.

"Yes, Mr. Whale. Ms. Lucas pointed out how this restaurant is one especially known for its notoriety among the Hollywood life - its clientele is filled with renown names from the industry. And," he paused for a bit, making sure to make eye contact with her and a heartbeat later with Jones, "it is also easy to run into paps guarding its doors to steal pics of the possible customers."

Ah. There it was.

The crux of the matter.

She sighed, her hand going to her hair again to find the hat planted on her head again. Damn, she forgot she was wearing it. She wrapped a blonde curl around her finger, pulling lightly at it and attempting to steady her breath. "For when did you make reservations?"

"Saturday evening, 8:00," Belle answered distractedly from behind the desk, putting all the papers in one leather briefcase. She probably had been the one in charge to organize the thing along with her manager and Gold - at least she knew what she was doing. The brief meal she had spent with her the previous week had made her less weary about this thing, knowing Belle approved and would be handling most of the deal from a second row, vigilant and advising her husband in whatever they wanted to throw the fake couple in the future. She had been the most surprised at that - the sudden trust she felt towards the petite journalist.

She didn't give it easily.

"Wait - saturday?" David chimed in, agitated. "We'll have to cancel our night then."

"It appears so," Ruby commented sadly. She then shrugged as if there was no problem at all. "No worries, we can always reschedule - Emma, text Graham and tell him to come over on Sunday, or next week if he has plans already."

"What is this saturday thing I keep hearing about?" Philip questioned, oblivious.

"We always try to get together at least once a week to watch a movie or have dinner together at one of our places." Mary Margaret was always more than eager to explain.

Jefferson cocked his head. "Why don't just go out somewhere? I'm sure being around with Emma or Humbert himself would get you all into some of the finest places with no problem."

They all exchanged glances between each other. It was David who finally answered, shrugging lightly, "we don't really care about that - we just like to be around each other, you know?"

The Lost Boys examined them, and Emma felt a bit exposed at that moment - as if they were judging her for not being the typical Hollywood star prototype. She tried to tell herself she didn't give a damn about what they thought of her - though she knew it was not true. Whatever she thought she felt, it was clear she actually had started to like these guys. But when she looked back at them, she was more than surprised to see they were staring - of course they were - with a bit of respect and understanding in their eyes. As if they knew the feeling. As if they _did_ understand.

And who said they didn't?

"And how long has been Humbert hanging out with you lot?" Jones asked, a blank expression on his face.

Why did he always ask about Graham, really?

She could see Mary Margaret's eyes burning a hole in her head from David's side, and she recalled their conversation the other day about how they had asked about his costar too. Oh God. She was starting to have a headache. She squared her shoulders and turned to Jones again. "After we met for the movie, I introduced him to my friends and we all clicked, so in between shooting and after it was done, we hang out together." She looked at him defiantly. "Why, is there any problem, _honey_?," she injected all the venom she could into the last word, making clear her point in the matter.

Not giving anything away with his face, he finally smirked cruelly at her. "Not at all, _darling_."

Gold's cane hitting the desk in a couple of rhythmic bangs claimed their attention back to him. "All settled then. Jones," he pointed at the frontman with the golden (_ha! golden - Gold. Hilarious... - Emma, FOCUS_) handle of the cane, "you'll pick up Miss Swan on Saturday at 7:30 sharp. Put on something nice, don't get into any trouble _and," _he let the words hang in the air for a moment and she felt the air being sucked from the room, dreading what he'd say next, "if you two are up for it - give them something to play with, would you?"

Everybody in the office exchanged amused smiles, shifting eyes, cracking knuckles from David's and Victor even catcalled and hit Jones' back. All she could do was look fixedly at him, knowing exactly what Gold had implied with his statement.

She would have to act as if she was besotted with the rockstar.

The question was - could she do that?

The worst part of it all was that an annoying little voice in her head assured her it wouldn't be too difficult to achieve. And _that_ was what frightened her the most.

She belatedly realized they were all getting up - the meeting was done, the papers signed and they were all free to go. She saw Ruby going over the boys, clapping her hands excitedly and telling them god knows what, and David and Mary Margaret chatting idly with Gold and Belle as Regina closed her briefcase and waved her goodbye, making a notion with her hand asking her to call her if she needed anything or there were any news. She hung back for a bit after reassuring her manager with a nod and a quick wave, looking for her purse and her keys, nervously playing with the clock hanging from her neck Ruby had insisted she wore - along with everything else. She was grasping Henry's drawing in her hand - as she always did, - the other rummaging in her pockets for the keys when a shadow fell over her. She lifted up her gaze and met those blue eyes, and she internally scolded herself for the fluttering in her stomach.

"So - 7:30."

She gulped. "Yeah, I heard."

He stared at her, waiting for something. He was making her way too nervous for her liking. "You need anything?"

"An address would be fine, you know."

"Oh." She wanted to kick herself. This guy was really messing with her head. The accent wasn't helping at all. A trembling hand coming up again to fix her hat, she pulled it back a bit so the rim wouldn't be over her forehead - and she saw how he fought a smile at her action, reminding her of what he had done earlier. "Of course. Let me -," she grabbed her phone, typed her address at record speed in a text and sent it to his now recorded number after the exchange they'd had the previous night. She heard a beep coming from his pocket and he lifted his eyebrows, surprised, checking it and looking back at her, an amused glint in his eyes. "- there. Now you have it."

"Fantastic. It's a date then." He eyed her carefully, and finally approached her a bit. She froze, not knowing what he was about to do - and positively terrified of what he had in mind.

_What. Was. He. Doing?_

He grasped her hand in his and slowly brought it to his lips, never taking his eyes off of hers. Gently, he kissed her knuckles, his fingers rubbing her palm gently, touching the wound he had bandaged the previous week in a same close lips-to-hand dance, breath hot on her skin.

She felt the cold loss of contact when he dropped her hand and she rapidly put it in the back pocket of her shorts, as if it would keep it safe from further assault from his persona. _Yeah right, Swan._ He grinned impishly at her and inclined his head in a mock salute.

"See you on Saturday then, m'lady," he said, turning on his feet and following the rest of his friends out of the room, leaving her planted on her feet and wondering how was she supposed to survive this.

* * *

"For the hundredth time, I am _fine_," she repeated tiredly.

"Emma, are you sure?"

"Oh my _God_..." She pinched the bridge of her nose, exasperated. It was probably the fifth time that Mary Margaret asked her, and she was getting extremely tempted to throw the phone through the window at this point. She was about to answer in a not-so-collected way - she was losing her patience at this point, unsurprisingly - when a panicked yell came from behind her.

"YOU ARE RUINING YOUR MAKE UP STAND STILL OR I'LL CUT OFF YOUR HAND SWAN."

No, she didn't have enough with one of her friends being all bodyguard slash shrink please-tell-me-you've-thought-this-through, no - she had to put up with her _other_ best friend in a pre-date modeling high, dressing her up and making sure her make up and hair were, as she called it, "_Mary Poppins-perfect"_: practically perfect in every way. She wouldn't have bothered at all - _liar_, something in her mind grumbled, knowing full well she would have given more than a thought about it; it _was_ a fancy restaurant after all and she _had_ signed a deal, promising to go through with it, and she _never_ broke her promises. Alas, she shouldn't have troubled: Ruby just showed up, outfit in one hand, heels in the other - _ugh NO_ - and her make-up bag slung over her shoulder, ready to turn her into her particular barbie of the day.

She really was a master puppeteer.

Sighing and trying to muster the tiny bit of sanity she had left after the fashion session and pep talk over the phone with both of her friends, she finally answered, "yes, I am sure. I'll call you when I'm back and I'll pick up Henry in the morning at 10, okay?"

Her friend deflated a bit and answered, a bit miffed but trying to sound cheerful over the line. "'Kay. Have fun, and don't forget to call! Love you!"

Had she really asked her to _have fun_? With Killian Jones? In a fake date in a stupidly and possibly full of famous people _and_ reporters restaurant?

_Ha._

She hung up and twirled a bit in front of the mirror, inspecting Ruby's work. Not bad. She had to admire her friend's talent - she made her feel comfortable in whatever she chose for her _and_ she got to make her look actually good without taking too much effort. Not overly showy or gaudy pieces, nor sparkling jewelry. And she was more than fine with that. Her choice for the night didn't rank her most dreaded outfits ever worn, not by a long shot: white sleeveless shirt, black blazer and skinny jeans ensemble, heels strapped to her feet. Ruby had opted for a complex side braid today, and Emma felt nostalgia fill her while her friend worked on her hair, reminiscing of nights spent in their shared dorm when they still studied in SF State University; popcorn, exams, silly movies and gossip being their only worries at the time.

How she missed those days now.

"You look hot."

"Jones will be thrilled about that," she remarked. "And I'm sure the fact that you haven't put me in a dress or showing off skin has nothing to do with you not wanting me to feel too freaked out or anything..." she wondered aloud, inspecting her friend in the mirror. Ruby's knowing smile told her she had been right. She twirled again and hugged her, needing the reassurance of her arms around her and the spicy smell that clung to her hair and clothes that she craved so much whenever she was away from home and missed her cheerful mood and easy banter. Ruby clung to her, patting her back fondly. "You'll be fine, and if you have any problem or need a backup escape plan - text me, okay?"

Emma laughed, knowing full well she meant every word. "Sure. I'm expecting you to show up in a cape and a mask. Super Ruby to the rescue!"

She pumped a fist in the air, excited. "Now that's something I'd pay to see. Care to tell your movie friends to make that happen?"

They both giggled until they were interrupted by the doorbell ringing. Exchanging an anxious look, Emma picked her purse with a sigh and mustered all her courage to walk taking her own sweet time - she was in heels after all, one was never too safe in those - to the door and open it. An impressively calm and collected Killian Jones waiting patiently for her took her by surprise.

And damn, was he looking fine. In that I-don't-really-care-what-I'm-wearing-or-how-I-styl e-my-hair fine. Just pants and a shirt fine. How did guys get away with it? She was about to mention something about him not even bothering to shave at all - not even for a _date_ - but thought better about it and closed her mouth.

She was rather fond of men with stubble, if she was honest with herself. And he sported quite a nice one.

He raked his eyes over her in a not-so-subtle way, making her cheeks flush - what was with this guy making her blush, really, she was not a teenager anymore - and whistled lowly. "You clean up nicely, Swan, I must say."

She gave him a bored expression, holding a hand over the doorway. "Hey yourself."

He grinned and shuffled a bit on his feet. She noticed he tried to take a peek behind her door, probably curious about the place where she lived - her home, her haven. _Yeah, not a chance, buddy._ She closed the door a bit so he would take the hint, and he smiled, knowing he had been caught. Ruby showed up then behind her, shrugging on her red jacket - wait. That was -"that's my leather jacket!"

"And I love you for letting me borrow it!" she exclaimed, kissing her cheek in an attempt to distract her and pushing her out of the house and dangling her keys in her hand while she closed the door behind them. Emma stumbled a bit on her feet, cursing the fucking heels under her breath - she was going to sprain her ankle, she just _knew_ it - until she felt cool hands on the skin of her hips steading her. Her breathing stopped, her heartbeat raced. Oh God. Frozen in the spot, she counted in her head, waiting for him to drop them.

He didn't.

He caressed her sides in slow, maddening circles for more than she could stand, and right before she was about to call him out on it - or become a pool of goo in her doorstep, she wasn't really sure at the moment - he had the _nerve_ to take her hand and pull until she followed him to his car.

What was he playing at?

"You want me to drop you somewhere, Red Lips?", he asked Ruby, who had missed the whole hip-caressing thing because she was too busy with her phone. She looked up when they had already reached his car - him opening the door for her and waiting for her to take her seat. She eyed him carefully, and he mouthed "gentleman, remember?". A sense of déjà vu hit her like a ton of bricks, images of Henry doing the same for her at David's place assaulting her. She ran into the car, hoping to forget the whole thing before it started to really freak her out how her kid and this man were being more alike than she was ready to. Not to mention he wanted to learn to play the guitar.

What if Henry grew up to be a _Killian Jones_?

Ruby's laughter snapped her out of her reverie. "You nicknamed me already? Awww. That means you care about me!"

"How could I not? You're my _beloved's_ best friend, aren't you? I'll have to keep you happy so _she_ is happy."

"Sure it doesn't have to do with the fact that I'm awesome?," she asked innocently, pursing her lips.

"Make sure it doesn't get to your head, Ruby. So - you want a ride or not?"

She waved a hand, dismissing him. "Don't worry, I drove here, I'll be fine. You two on the other hand - don't do anything I wouldn't do!" She winked at them and ran, waving on her trek to her car. Emma stared at her back, completely speechless.

She was really going to need a drink when they got there.

Jones entered the driver's side and without a word - _that was surprising_, she thought - started the car, and soon they were making their way through the infamous evening's traffic to their destination. The restaurant in question was nestled in a residential area of Beverly Hills, a couple of miles east of Rodeo Drive - Emma had never even heard of it, and she had been living here for a couple of years now. Well, she mused with a shrug, it wasn't as if she had done too much as exploring the posh glittering area of the city. She had taken Henry sightseeing more than once when they first moved there, and they loved their trips to the beach on the weekends when she was free with the gang - Ruby had insisted they should all learn how to surf or they wouldn't be true californians - but she was far more familiar with San Francisco and Portland, as she had lived there most of her life: while she attended uni and when she lived at her mother's, of course.

"You okay, Swan?"

She jumped on her seat, turning startled eyes to her companion, who was examining her curiously while they were stopped at a traffic light, quietly drumming his fingers on the steering wheel in synch with the music coming from the radio. She tried to act nonchalant - though suspecting he wouldn't believe her. She wasn't sure she would if she were in his place. "Yeah, fine."

He smiled, as if he knew what she was thinking. "Okay. We're almost there, so get ready."

Emma felt her heart stop for a beat. She gulped and her hand fisted, grabbing her purse like her life depended on it. "Ready for what?"

His wide smile was a flash in the dark engulfing the interior of the car. "Show must start, darling."

* * *

They were there.

One of the restaurant employees motioned Jones as to where he could park the car and, when they stopped, helped her out - what was it with these guys being all creepily polite, gosh. She attempted to give the poor guy a grateful smile, but she guessed it would look more like a grimace, as she prayed to whatever deity who may be listening to help her not fall in the short walk to the table they had reserved in the damn heels, which had already started to hurt her feet. Focusing entirely on the task of putting one foot in front of the other, she nearly screamed when she felt something creeping her from behind - until she realized it was Jones' hand on her lower back, guiding her through the restaurant's door. She was about to tell him to keep his damn hands to himself if he didn't want her to cut them off once they were given cutlery when she saw his head dip and his mouth was beside her ear, murmuring "don't or you'll mess everything up - someone's watching, so just keep moving."

She tensed at his words, and managed not to show the uncertainty, doubt and sudden fear she felt at the moment with her expression. His hand pressed a bit harder on her back, pushing her a bit until they were in the hall. Examining her surroundings, Emma couldn't help but think the place looked extremely... cozy. And ridiculously romantic. She'd bet Ella would adore this place - enveloped in a captivating beauty and elegant décor. Twinkling lights illuminated the different salons and dining areas, and lush foliage adorned the patio terraces, adding an extra exotic touch to the place.

She felt enchanted for a moment.

Jones gave his name to the maître and soon they were guided to their table - patio was it. Thankfully it was one of the waiters who pulled the chair for her this time - she wasn't sure she could handle another episode of the Killian Jones Is A Gentleman show.

Said Killian Jones who sat at her side and was examining the restaurant with the same awed look she had worn before. She spent a minute inspecting him - the long dark lashes, the light stubble, those damn eyebrows he kept cocking every freaking second at everything she said, the hair - why did some guys have such good hair? It wasn't fair. She would be lying if she said she didn't want to run her hands through it just to prove it was as soft as it looked like.

"Enjoying the view, Swan?"

Damn it.

She closed her eyes tightly and felt herself flush. Again. This guy really had to stop making her blush. _And let herself touch his hair... NO._ She lifted her eyes to the rest of the tables around her, noticing that most of them were couples and little groups of formally dressed people, all clinking glasses and polite bites of beautifully decorated food. She crossed her legs under the table and finally addressed her date.

"So - red or white wine?"

He grinned widely. "I thought you'd never ask."

"No drunken spectacle though, remember?"

He rolled his eyes at her as he called the waiter hovering behind their seats. "Your trust in me is astounding, love."

They were served their wine glasses - she didn't want to imagine how much that bottle could cost, Jesus, this was the kind of place where there were no prices written in the given carte. Yes, it was _that_ kind of place.

"You know, I think one guy over there took a pic right now."

She whipped her head to him so suddenly she swore she heard her neck crack. "You're kidding."

"Yeah I am but it's so fun to see you fret," he smirked at her, raising his glass to her mockingly.

"Fuck you."

"Oh, I bet you want to."

Why was he so sure of himself when he said that? She let her head drop on her hand, trying not to look too despaired in case there was someone _actually_ looking at them.

"Oh God, I am going to need a margarita or two after this."

"And they call me the wild one." He inched closer to her, hooded eyes smoldering hers. "You see, I wouldn't mind at all finding out how you'd be if you were pissed, Swan."

She looked at him, confusion etched on her face. "What, you mean me throwing my champagne at you wasn't proof enough of me being pissed off?"

He barked out a laugh, hand in his face, actually shaking in his mirth. Oh God, she was so lost. What was wrong with him? After he composed himself, he managed to answer in between amused chuckles. "You know, pissed is a way to say drunk."

_Oh._

"Oh. Well, something new I learned today, I guess," she commented, sipping from her glass. Pissed. Huh. She thought she remembered Graham laughing a bit when she had said something about being pissed, but he hadn't elaborated. Bastard. She reconsidered why they had been talking about in the first place to start such a thrilling slang discussion. "Wait - you want to see me drunk?"

He dropped his voice, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Oh, I do. I bet you'd be quite fun to be around."

Trying not to smile, finger tracing the rim of her glass back and forth, she recalled nights gone wild with her friends. They had had more than their fair share of... interesting soirées, if she said so herself. "You'd never guess."

Never taking his eyes from hers, he left his fist connect with the table in a firm knock. "I'll tell you what. We're gonna play a game."

She turned startled eyes to him. "A game? Here?" This guy needed to focus. Weren't they supposed to be having a _date_?

He nodded eagerly. "Yep. Right here, right now."

She raised her brow, not entirely convinced - and quite a bit nervous at his sudden enthusiasm. It didn't look promising. At all. "I hope it's not a drinking game, or we'll probably fuck off that deal we signed days ago trashing this place, buddy."

"Nah, we'll leave that for another day if you want to, darling," he leaned in closer, "you ever heard of the 20 questions?"

_Oh my God. Nineties flashback, anyone? _"Oh God. What is it, junior year?"

He didn't look put out at all by her reaction. He pursed his lips and continued. "Come on, Swan, look at it this way - we haven't been on the best of terms since the day we met..."

_Well that's an understatement_, she thought to herself, still fingering her glass leisurely.

"...and this is a means to get to know each other. No harm can come from it, right?"

Was he really giving her puppy eyes?

She pointed at him accusingly. "What if I don't want to answer something?"

"But that's the fun of the game!" he pouted, trying not to grin. Oh, she got him. She just knew what he had in mind. She gave him her best smug smile, bringing the glass back to her lips.

"Yeah but considering you're a flirty dirty bastard I bet you'll start asking stupidly intimate and private questions which I won't be sure how not to answer by punching you in the face, so..." she let the threat hang in the air for a moment, hoping he'd get the hint. Still pouting for a bit, he finally released a defeated sigh and slumped his shoulders.

"Fine - what if we ask 5 questions and we get to veto 1 of them?"

Huh. That was... surprisingly fair in her head right now. The Irish knew how to play. She held out her hand, which he took not missing a beat and shook in a firm grasp. They locked eyes, and she wondered if he was thinking about the same thing she was.

How he had held her hand not a week ago trudging her along the studio's halls.

"Deal," he declared with a satisfied smirk of his own, which did nothing to calm the racing of her heart.

Why did she get the feeling that this wouldn't be such a good idea...?

* * *

_**...Hi there!**_

_**As I said up there, this was getting **__**way**__** out of hand, so I decided to split it - next part will be done soon, so don't fret! Hopefully this wasn't too much of a cliffhanger for you to yell at me! *prayer circle***_

_**Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed it and had a fantastic St. Patrick's day honoring our very own OUAT Irish liferuiner bastards, Colin, Jamie and Eion! (half Irish but whatever I'm drinking for that hot piece of a** too, man).**_

_**Now off to get ready for the comeback of my bb Graham *insert not ready gif here***_

_**Love you all, and if you want to, share your thoughts!**_

_**PS: The whole JT's 20/20 Experience was playing while writing this. And though I vowed not to play 'Let The Groove Get In', I lied. And I danced. Alone. Cause it's that catchy. **_


	13. Chapter 13: The Date (II)

_**Disclaimer: None of this characters are mine. No Killian Jones, no braid, no chocolate dessert. Nope. If they did, we'd all hang out and I'd probably spend my days staring at their prettiness and perfection. Sadly, they all are owned by Adam Horowitz and Edward Kitsis, along with OUAT. Bastards.**_

_**The places mentioned here are actually real. **_

* * *

They ordered their food first so they wouldn't get interrupted in the middle of their impending heart-to-heart; Jones proposed some calamari to share as first - which she made a show to accept begrudgingly, not wanting to let him know how spot on he had been as she loved her some seafood - and asked her to choose whatever she'd have for second. She opted for the risotto, and found herself pleasantly surprised when she heard him choose the salmon - she had pegged him as the kind of guy who'd always have spaghetti or whatever pasta they offered in an italian restaurant.

Apparently, Killian Jones was full of surprises.

As the waiter who had taken their order left - and after refilling their empty glasses - he looked back at her bemused expression and shrugged nonchalantly. "What? I like fish."

She bit her lip, trying not to smile and finally retook their earlier conversation. "So - who starts?"

"Don't want to sound too cliché here, but ladies always go first, of course," he answered.

The gentleman act was back. Oh, happy day.

She braced her shoulders, like she was readying herself for some race. _Ha_. She only worked out when it was strictly stipulated in her contracts - she _hated_ working out. She knew it was healthy and apparently it gave you some sense of self satisfaction but dammit, at what cost? She felt more than self satisfied lying on the couch sipping a milkshake too.

She gave him a calculated look, lounging a bit back on her seat and thinking of a good way to break the ice. "So, as you know my second name, it's only fair I learn yours, I believe."

He grinned from ear to ear, acknowledging her question. "Ah, still miffed about that, are you?" He shook his head, amused, and sighed. "Well, no problem in answering this one. It's nothing exciting, really."

She tapped her finger on her watch. "Stop stalling and spill, Jones."

"It's Killian Peter Jones, actually," he answered, shrugging.

She stared, "Peter? Really?"

"What's wrong with Peter?" Defensive much?

"Is that your first question?"

"What? NO! Swan, you're playing dirty!"

"And here I thought you liked dirty...," she mused aloud.

He looked about to retort and thankfully thought better of it. "Whatever - my turn." If his smirks could be ranked from 0 to 10, this one went to 12. And this, in her book, meant trouble. Uh-oh. "Tell me about that singing debacle in uni Red Lips talked about the other day in the studio."

_NO._

"NO."

"Are you vetoing this? Cause you know, I can ask you way worse than this and then you'll have no vetoes left..."

She sent him her best I-could-murder-you-in-your-sleep look. Henry dreaded that look. Poor kid. "I hate you."

"Sure you do. Now - shoot," he complied, smirking.

How did he even remember that? Oh GOD. She massaged her temple with her hand and sighed heavily, knowing he was right - she'd better get this out now or he'd keep bugging her until he found out one way or another.

"Ugh. It's stupid, really. Just - God, I can't believe I'm telling _you_, of all people, this." She fanned herself a bit with her hand, her cheeks were surely flaming just recalling the episode. Bracing herself, she finally started talking. "Okay. I was taking a shower and, as any other young girl out there, was having my usual singing time with the shower head as my improvised microphone." She glared at him, daring him to say anything, and he held up his hands innocently. She blowed a strand of hair out of her face. "Anyway, when I got out and came back to my room, I noticed everybody kept laughing and humming the same song I'd been singing in there. It was when Ruby came back looking for me I found out someone had wanted to prank a couple who apparently were caught in the shower..." she fumbled a bit with her words for a bit and made a gesture with her hand, not meeting his eyes at all dreading his haughty expression, "_you know_. But it was _me_ who they actually recorded, and it was played through the dorm's intercom." She put her hand on her face, not daring to look back at him after admitting such an embarrassing piece of her past. And God, did it still make her want to kill the idiot who installed the micro in the shower. Slowly. And painfully.

As had died her pride that day.

"And here I thought I was the rockstar," he laughed, head thrown back and all. She let out a tiny smile, grateful that he hadn't poked too much at her after telling him. "Okay, your turn. Make it a good one."

Emma picked at the food in her plate, thinking fast about what could she possibly ask him. She wasn't that good in picking interesting, insightful or just plain embarrassing questions - hell, whenever they played "I Never" she got anxious when it was her turn - so she came up with something she had wondered since she had first met him. "Where are you from exactly and how did you end up here meeting the other guys?"

He met her gaze steadily, measuring her. "Those are two questions."

"Well, answer both of them and you'll be just two left down, mister."

He took a long sip from his glass before answering, staring ahead of him instead of her. "I'm from a little town in the east coast of Ireland, Drogheda." His face turned pensive for a moment. "I grew up there, and ended up moving here as soon as I was of age to travel on my own."

"I bet your parents were thrilled to hear about that," she muttered, thinking of how anxious Ruth got whenever she had had any school trips or when she was ready to move to San Francisco to start her freshmen year.

"Considering they were both long dead at the moment, I don't think so." She snapped her mouth shut, shock stealing her features and wincing slightly. Fuck. Smart move, Swan. She saw from the corner of her eyes how he shook her head at her, as if telling her it didn't matter. "No worries, Swan. My mum died when I was a kid, and my father... he didn't get over it, so he joined her."

Eyes full of pity, she could only come up with a whispered "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be. When I got here, I first met Jefferson while I was looking for gigs to play in different clubs and pubs, and we 'joined forces', or whatever you want to call it. It wasn't long until Gold contacted him and he was the one who introduced us to the rest of the group. He made us the proposal to form the band, we clicked, and the rest, as they say, is history."

They stared at each other for a long minute, and she realized why he had shared that last tidbit about his parents in there when she hadn't really asked about it - he could have told her that'd count as another question, or to shove it basically. Yet he hadn't.

He was telling her they had something in common: they were orphans.

She felt like choking up right there, and she gripped the fork in her hand, trying to calm the raging emotions inside of her. She now considered the little things she knew about him, and how some of them now came together to fit the blurred image that was Killian Jones: the band name, how they all were kind of a wild wolf pack, licking wounds and taking care of each other no matter what and getting comfort in their shared home - their music, the studio. The way he had acted towards Grace, a little girl whom he surely would never let feel like she was alone, not after what he had gone through.

She sucked in a breath, attempting to collect herself so he wouldn't notice how much that last answer had affected her. She took another bite of her plate and added, "next question?"

He gave her a knowing smile and played along - he surely guessed he had touched a nerve with that confession, yet he was nice enough not to push it. That, she hadn't expected. She suddenly noticed the mischief in his eyes and dread came crushing on her, remembering they were still playing and there were a few questions to go. "Well, seeing as we are not going to get pissed tonight - care to share some of your best drunken stories you were referring to earlier?"

Oh.

"I may have to think about that one - there are quite a few..." she raked through her brain, trying to come up with some of the best ones. A sudden image flashed behind her eyelids and she snorted, thinking that one would do. "Okay. One night, we ended up in some dingy bar after having been drinking at the dorm - I don't even know where we were, I only recall telling the bartender that she was the spitting image of Jennifer Love Hewitt. Apparently, I tend to be quite generous when I'm drunk," too generous, too many times, "so I came up to her and told her to fix 26 shots for us."

"How many of you were there?"

"Four." They had been celebrating finals were over, if she recalled correctly, and Ruby had dragged Ella, Mary Margaret and her after pimping them all up - nothing had changed that much years later, had it? - out to 'have some fun'. And boy, had they had fun.

He looked impressed - and a tad confused. She didn't blame him. "Woah. Why 26 though?"

She put her hands in the air, shrugging. "I have no idea. It made sense at the moment. Anyway, they all tried to tell me to shut up but I shushed them and gave the poor girl a fifty," she had even winked at her, but she didn't reveal that, "so just - picture how we ended up after those. Let's just say at one point, going back to the dorm, we decided to take a traffic cone, put it on my head, and yell whenever someone passed by us 'GRYFFINDOR!'"

In fact, they had passed the cone around and actually sorted each one of them to different Hogwarts houses, but this was cool for now, he didn't need to know the level of inebriation and Potter-freak they could manage.

They both cracked up, tears forming in her eyes and belly hurting from laughing, remembering the faces of the poor people who had been witnesses of such a scene. In a far away corner of her brain, she noted that he hadn't asked what she was referring about, telling her something more about Killian Jones: he liked Harry Potter.

Mary Margaret would be thrilled about that.

"That was a good one," he complimented, still chuckling. "Your turn."

She stared languidly over the rim of her glass. "Mmm seeing as you're asking me about silly stories and I'm being the boring one, let's turn the tables - have you ever had anything with some crazy groupie that has thrown herself at you?"

He sent her a shocked expression, mouth forming a perfect 'o'. "Swan! Who do you take me for?"

"I don't know, you're this huge big thing apparently - is it so weird to think about it? Apparently there's this thing about you crazy rockstars..." She let the insinuation hung in the air, knowing full well he knew what she was talking about.

Throwing instruments through hotel room's windows. Sleeping with fans. Heavy drinking and doing drugs. Stereotypes sucked, she knew it as she _was_ living it, but wasn't it fair to ask nevertheless?

"For your information - no, I have never slept with a fan. Maybe a kiss here and there... but no. And especially not minors. Though more than one have entered into the hotels we were staying and nearly accosted us, and let me tell you, it was terrifying," he visibly shivered, and she laughed at his pale face just talking about the incident.

She bounced a bit, excitedly in her seat. "Oh God, we had one of those when we were filming - she was hiding in Graham's closet! He nearly had a heart attack when he found her in there! It was crazy!" It really had been; poor Graham had been pretty freaked out and she had had to take him out for a drink so he'd calm down.

Being pretty did that to you. He could probably go bumping a fist in the air all drama queen '_Why, God, why did you curse me with this face?'_ if he wanted to and she was sure no one would be able to disagree.

His face turned contemplative then, and she wondered what he was planning to ask. "Oh, this comes right on time for my next question." His eyes never wavered from hers, pinning her in place, making her breath stop for a beat. "Ever had something for Humbert?"

...well, that was unexpected.

"...you mean, as any XX specimen on Earth, as noticing he's extremely attractive?"

"You know what I mean, Swan. Working together with someone sometimes makes you develop... feelings for them." He looked at her from under his lashes. "So, have you ever had something with him?"

She pondered his question silently for a bit. Had she felt something for Graham? They were friends, that was for sure - and she was really fond of him. They had flirted a little on set, and maybe at one point or another after the papers had stated for the hundredth time how cute they looked together she had let herself daydream for a bit about the possibility... but it had never gone further than that. On her part, at least. "Apart from the kisses and the sex scene in the movie, no."

The sudden image of Killian Jones choking at her side was amusing enough for a lifetime, though she had to admit it kind of worried her in case she was blamed for his death. She put a hand on his arm, anxiously checking if he was alright. _Oh, hi there, biceps._ "You okay?"

He waved a hand at her, trying to control his breathing. "I'm fine. Just peachy. Wait - you have a _sex scene in the movie with Humbert?_"

That was what this was about? For the love of God. "Does it really matter...?"

He appeared completely out of his element right then. "It doesn't, it's just - I'd have never guessed you'd be up for, you know..."

Was he implying what she thought he was implying...?

"You know that just because it's a sex scene it doesn't have to involve being completely naked or explicit, right?"

"I - yeah, I know, I just..."

"...thought it'd mean me and Graham all sweaty and no clothes at all?," she finished for him, cocking an eyebrow. Men. They were _all_ the same. And she was enjoying making him squirm in his seat, if she were being completely honest with herself.

He nodded. "Pretty much."

Her smirk was positively evil. She got him. "Well, I guess you'll have to watch the movie to find out."

He gave her a tight-lipped smile, as if conceding her a fair-played game. He nodded slowly and jutted out his chin before replaying. "Okay, I've got another one."

"It's my turn." She still had one left, right...?

He waved her away and went on as if she hadn't talked. "You can ask later. How about - any piercings or tattoos?"

"Really? That's your question?" She gave him her most unimpressed look. Of all the things to ask, he was really going with that one...?

"Oh, but you can learn so much about someone from those, my dear Swan..." he trailed off, and a sudden flash of a bit of ink in his forearm came to mind, and she was suddenly quite curious about it... Did he know she knew about it?

She lazily showed off her arms, now bare after she had left the blazer in the back of her seat, turning them up and down, the light coming from the lanterns and the candle sitting in the table reflecting on her fair skin, giving it a golden glow. "I have no tattoos and no piercings currently."

He examined her arms and the bit of chest the shirt exposed, cocking his eyebrow.

"I'll take your word on that one, as you can't prove it right here as it'd lead to some interesting... _situation_ if I got you out of that clothes in here just to prove a point. Tough that 'currently' sounds... promising."

Holy shit. If his words hadn't felt like some sweet honey dripping down her skin deliciously slowly, she didn't know what it had. What was he doing to her? Clenching her legs more firmly under the table, she went on as if his words had had no effect on her at all. "It just means that I used to have a piercing."

"You did?"

She shrugged. "Everybody got one at one point or another - I had to take it off though."

"Where?"

"Back in San Francisco, when I was studying." Of course it had been around that time, Ruth wouldn't have let her get one had she been at home.

He rolled his eyes at her, like 'really?'. "Swan - where, as in, your body."

"Oh." _Good one, Emma._ "I got two, actually - one here," she brought her hand up to he upper side of her left ear, where she had worn the little silver hoop for years, "and the conventional 18-year-old lip ring, of course."

He gawked at her as if he had never seen her before in his life. "You wore a lip ring," he stated.

Why was it such a big deal, again...? "Yes," she enunciated slowly, as if talking to a child.

He seemed to come back from his trance, shaking his head a bit in the process. "Now that's something I'd have loved to see. Pity you don't wear it anymore." He licked his lips in the _dirtiest_ way she had ever seen. God.

She felt the words leaving her mouth without her consent, and regretted them as soon as she said them. "Yeah, after the guy who told me to get it in the first place because it was 'hot' to kiss a girl with a lip ring and he then left me, I kinda didn't want to have it anymore, you know."

Silence fell over them, and she was really tempted to hide behind her extremely soft and perfumed napkin. What the hell had that been? Why had she told him that? Was she, like, repaying him with a bit of her after he had shared that about his childhood? Or did just the simple comment of her wearing the damn thing trigger something inside of her to lash out at the guy who had broken her in so many ways when she was just a girl?

Fidgeting nervously with said napkin and trying really hard to act as if she had intended on telling him from the very start about it, she finally managed to clear her face of every ounce of pain or distress the memory may have brought with it and let herself look over at him.

Was that... pity in his eyes?

She really hoped he wasn't pitying her. But, as she was about to call him out on it, rage simmering inside of her, she saw him fumbling with the cuff on his right sleeve, over his forearm.

She knew exactly what to ask him then.

"Have you ever been in love?"

He froze as soon as she uttered the words, and she could hear his sharp intake of breath. He even seemed to be having trouble actually forming a coherent answer.

"What?" he finally choked.

She wasn't about to back down though. She had started it, she may as well end it too. Even if she got an angry Jones in response. "You heard me. Have you ever been in love?"

Sea blue eyes searched hers and burned holes at her with its intensity, and Emma couldn't look away as much as she wanted to, she was so transfixed. And waiting for her answer. His eyes dropped down to her lips for a moment, and he leaned in closer to her, closer than they had been through all the date, his leg touching hers. She was having trouble focusing at the moment, and her own eyes sought his lips - which purred just one word back at her.

"Veto."

Time stood still, and she fought the urge to let out a bittersweet laugh. She didn't know how to react to that - had she really thought he'd answer her? Why had she felt so compelled to ask him about his past love life, anyway? As she posed herself those questions, she was aware she already knew what had been the catalyst: that haunted look in his eyes when he had looked at her. It hadn't been pity, after all.

It had been empathy.

"Have you?," he threw her own words back at her.

And she knew what he was expecting from her at that very moment. They both did, they were reading each other like open books. Clenching her hands and gripping the napkin in it forcefully, finally she whispered back her answer.

"Veto."

Emma had always been fond of the word _impasse_. And she was living it right then in that moment, gazes interlocked and words unsaid left hanging in the air surrounding them, biting in their tongues. And they knew.

They were just not ready yet.

* * *

After such an intense moment, they silently agreed to focus on their food, which they had pretty much ignored during their little get-to-know-each-other game. Between polite small talk and sips of their drinks, they cleaned their dishes and he asked her if she would like anything for dessert. Emma couldn't deny she was craving some sweet treat from this place - it wasn't everyday she had dinner in a place like this, was it...?

"Would you like anything?" Maybe he'd want to share something. They were faking a romantic date after all, despite the idea of having to make goo-goo eyes at him while he fed her chocolate wasn't her cup of tea.

...though it wasn't as repulsive as she'd have imagined at first, either. Huh.

"I'm okay, princess."

She flinched. "I told you not call me that," she spat, and before he could ask why or even comment on it, she searched for the most appealing thing on the menu to order. Oh. _OH._ This thing sounded promising alright.

If Emma had to call herself a whore, she'd be a chocolate's whore. Hands down. And this she was about to eat, she knew she'd probably melt in the ground after the first bite.

"I'll have _La Passione_, please."

She knew he was smirking at her as soon as she told the poor waiter who had been burdened with taking their orders through the date as she handed him the dessert menu - after all, you didn't need to know a whole lot of italian to guess what it meant. She drummed her fingers on the tablecloth, leg propped over the other proudly and ignoring his hooded gaze. She counted silently in her head until she heard him clear his throat. _Here we go_, she thought. "Passion, huh?"

She stopped drumming abruptly, tempted to flip him off. "Dude, it's a chocolate dessert, it's not my fault they are named like soap operas okay?"

"Oh, touchy, are we?" He was laughing at her. He was!

"I am not, I just have a really special relationship with chocolate and I don't like being laughed at," she grumbled. Was he going to ruin her dessert? This could end badly for both of them if he did. Ruining chocolate was one of the deadliest treasons in her book.

He raised his hands in mock innocence. "I'd never deprive you of your chocolate, Swan. Tell me - is that the only thing you need to keep you happy? Chocolate?"

"Oh man, you don't want to go there. I'm sure if I had to go to hell for any of the deadly sins, I'd have gluttony branded in my forehead." She had discussed this several times and she was pretty sure by now of her fate in hell, if it even existed.

"Would you really?" he asked, amused.

She nodded, not embarrassed at all. "Yep. What about you?"

"Can I only pick one?"

She pondered a bit over it, and finally complied, "you can pick two - first and second one - it's not as if I'd only go just because of my chocolate craving addiction."

"What is your second then?"

She looked ahead of her, head held high and answered immediately, not needing to think about it at all. "Pride."

"Why am I not surprised?" he grumbled under his breath, not low enough for her not to hear him though. She made a face at him.

"Shut up and answer."

"Well, let me see: greed, envy, lust, sloth, pride, wrath and gluttony...," he counted each in one long finger, letting his eyes wander into the distant lights of the city below them. He dropped all of them then, leaving the first one up. "I'd have to say greed is my very own personal deadly sin,"

She stared at him, taken aback. That, she hadn't been expecting at all. "Greed? Really? Don't you have enough? I mean, you're a fucking rockstar!"

He shrugged, not meeting her eyes, keeping his eyes down. "Knowing you want something that somebody else has? It can drive you crazy." He paused for a moment, and she considered his answer, trying to come to terms with what she knew about him and storing this new piece of information about him for the future. Knocking his hand on the table - she was beginning to see it was his own way to want to change subjects or a quirk of his - he turned to her again and a seductive smile graced his features. "Anyway, I'd say _lust_ is a pretty good second choice for me."

She rolled her eyes, and she finally let herself try the first bite of the gelato the waiter had brought her a couple of minutes earlier. Bringing it close to her mouth, she inhaled the sweet aroma of the cocoa and spices they had added, closing her eyes and at last tasting it.

_Holy shit_.

She couldn't help the moan that escaped her lips, it was that good. Ugh, did they sell this thing? She'd buy it gladly, no matter the prize - hell, she'd drive here everyday just to get some of this on a daily basis. She licked her lips slowly, savoring the bitter aftertaste in her tongue and swallowing, satisfied. God. That'd been...

"Good God, Swan - that was orgasmic."

Yeah, she couldn't really deny it.

She spooned another scoop. "You have to try this, you won't understand until you do," she answered, not bothering to correct him. What was the point, anyway?

He stopped her with a wave of his hand. "Not necessary Swan, I'm more than happy to get pleasure by other means, you know."

She stared at him, a sour look on her face. Really? "Should I remind you that this is a fake date and you're not getting any tonight, mister? If I were you I'd accept the chocolate."

"Am I not? Awwww." He put a hand over his heart, mocking as if he'd been hurt. He then made an indifferent gesture. "It's only our first date - I've been told by my lady friends it's not customary to sleep with someone in that one anyway."

As she licked her spoon graciously, she reminded him, "not everybody follows that code, though."

"Do you?," he asked.

"Why does everything have to come back to me?"

He examined her for a moment and his eyes dropped to her naked shoulder. She looked down and realized the strap of her black bra had dropped to her upper forearm. He moved closer to her and, hooking a finger under the strap, put it maddeningly slowly back to its place. His voice was barely above a whisper. "Nice bra, by the way. Bet it matches your knickers."

Eyes still fixed on her shoulder, counting the light freckles that she'd always hated when she was younger, she fought with the haze in her brain to come up with an answer. "Thank you? And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I'll tell you in a moment. There are also these other rules you girls follow for this sex dating thing."

She shook her head, debating between feeling amused or exasperated at this sudden analysis of female behavior towards sex. "This is the first time I've ever heard of something like that that's not from a romcom."

"Come on Swan - admit it. If you shave and you wear matching underwear, it means you expect sex."

She barked out a laugh. "You really are underestimating Ruby's power over me - she'd be scandalized if she found out I went out on a date with a black bra and red panties."

He licked his lips and moved closer to her again, purring in her ear. "Shame, those are my two favorite colors."

Was there some way to make your body not to shiver? She'd love to find a cure to that. She'd pay someone to find one, she swore. Struggling with the wavering in her voice, she finally managed to answer him. "Great, I'll make sure to wear them in our _non_ existent sexy times."

Why hadn't he pulled back yet? No, wait - he was getting even closer. His arm was touching hers, and his face was barely pressed to hers, cheek by cheek. Strands of her braid tickled her shoulder when he approached even more, breathing words lightly. "Also, I don't want to frighten you Swan, but now there _really_ is someone in a couple of tables away from us with a camera," she could feel his lips forming a smile against her neck, "care to play a bit?"

She _really_ wasn't sure she was ready for this. She wasn't. Was she? She could feel beads of sweat forming on her neck, and they weren't helping matters with the sudden change of temperature she was experiencing in the span of a couple of minutes.

"Is it strictly necessary?"

"I won't make you do anything you don't want to, of course," his nose was grazing the delicate skin over her pulse point, and she was sure he could feel her heart rate speeding up. She really hoped he thought it was due to the knowledge of someone creeping on them instead of his closeness.

Not at all. It wasn't him. Not his closeness or the sound of his voice reverberating on her skin or his spicy and fresh and _male_ smell... nope. It was the creeper. She was sure of it. 100% sure.

His somewhat annoyed whisper brought her out of her reverie."Swan. Even if there's nothing to show, at least play your part. Don't look like I'm holding a knife under the table, for fuck's sake."

Way to ruin her mood. Nose flaring and suddenly enraged, she pulled her head back so they were standing face to face, noses barely touching. "Excuse you, are you implying I can't _act_? I'm the one making movies here."

"Yeah, I can tell when you're there sitting like someone has tied you up to the freaking chair instead of flirting with your _very_ attractive and _extremely_ charming date who is making moves on you nonstop," he scoffed, and she debated if he was trying to get a rise of her or being just a pain in the ass. Or just plain being himself.

She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. "You're insufferable."

She wondered if all smirks made her want to slap somebody or if it was just his. Him, especially. "And your pride is showing, princess."

Oh. Hell. _No._

"I told you _not_ to call me that."

And with that, she fisted her hand in his shirt, pulling him to her and closing the short inches between them, pressing her lips to his.

* * *

_**...so.**_

_**Yeah. **_

_**What happened, huh?**_

_**You guys know I love you all, right? RIGHT? Okay. Don't kill me. Pleeeeease, I'm still young and I haven't met Colin yet (and creepily stared at him, one of my goals in life).**_

_**Also, you've had two chapters in less than 24 hours, you impatient beautiful people. I didn't even answer to the reviews for the sake of finishing this one (I'll get to that now!)**_

_**Oh, fun fact: that story about the traffic cone? *lifts hand* yep. Guilty. There are pics and all.**_

_**Yell at me, cry or just plain UPDATE SOON me if you want to (I'm hilarious am I not? woah).**_

_**This one was written under a mix between Justin Timberlake's and Florence and the Machine's playlist. So many feels.**_


	14. Chapter 14: What Now

_**Disclaimer: None of this characters are mine. No Killian Jones, no braid, no chocolate dessert. Nope. If they did, we'd all hang out and I'd probably spend my days staring at their prettiness and perfection. Sadly, they all are owned by Adam Horowitz and Edward Kitsis, along with OUAT. Bastards.**_

_**The places mentioned here are actually real.**_

* * *

"I told you _not_ to call me that."

He was about to call her out on her damaged pride again so he could piss her off royally when his smirk was swiped off his face as her lips stumbled upon his.

Holy fuck. She was kissing him. She was actually _kissing_ him. How had that even happened? He hadn't been expecting that - not by a long shot. He had wanted to test her, yes, and - well, it wouldn't be fair not to admit that, in a secluded corner of his mind, he had wanted her to accept his proposition to give the camera some action - but he had believed she'd only go as far as some nuzzling, flirting and maybe even some silly hand-holding. Nothing more.

And here he was, lips on lips with the infuriating woman he had met none less than two weeks ago and whose life was now so incoherently interwoven with his. How had they come to this point?

All thoughts left his brain as he could only focus at the moment on her soft, wet mouth attacking his. Even in such an act as pure and intimate as a kiss, she kept fighting: he could feel it in the tightness and the set of her skin grazing his, her fists grabbing forcefully his shirt, teeth clenched behind her lips. He wasn't sure he should laugh at her choice of proving her point in such an enthusiastic manner or answer her ferocity the only way he knew how: giving her as good as he got. He opened his mouth to not-so-lightly nip on her bottom lip, so she'd take the hint. He wasn't the kind who backed down.

It wasn't until the bitter aftertaste of chocolate swept over his lips lazily that he realized she was raising the stakes.

What was it he had read about tongues in kissing...? "No tongue, it's too personal" or something like that...? Or was it another ridiculous chick rule he had heard like the ones he had told her about earlier?

A quiet murmur by his side broke the spell, bringing him back to where they were and what they were doing: faking a date. Faking they were a man and a woman, enjoying each other's company, getting to know each other, sharing a drink, maybe a bite of their plates. Exchanging lingering glances. Light touches.

Not trying to tear each other's mouths off in a battle they didn't even remember how it had started.

It wouldn't do them any good if this got out of hand, and that kiss would have to be more than enough for Gold and Regina to play with - it was more than _he_ had even thought first of giving them, to be honest. So, with a last brief assault of her sweet mouth, he pulled back, keeping his eyes fixed on her now reddened and slightly swollen lips, not ready to look at her yet. He noted how her breathing came out uneven and in little gasps, and he marveled at the effect it had had on her.

Well, he couldn't deny his heartbeat wasn't going a little bit too fast, now that he thought of it...

It had been just one kiss, right?

He didn't want to get started on what would she look like if things went further than that...

_Nope. Jones, no. NO. Stop it right there._

Closing his eyes tightly, his hand came up to scratch the hair at the nape of his neck, sighing and praying for her to finally say something. Wasn't she the one always willing to fill their awkward silences with some scathing retort and ready to jump at his throat whenever she felt like it? Why wasn't she saying anything?

Tired of waiting, he mustered all his courage to meet her eyes - those emerald eyes, full of vibrance and raw emotion and life - and his hands took hers, still gripping his shirt like her life depended on it; he softly pried them apart from it and dropped them slowly to his lap. That seemed to shake her out from her ice-like demeanor and, staring at their hands, finally let go of his. He could see her shoulders drop and lift in sync with her breathing, growing slower as she calmed herself after their kiss.

Their kiss.

He still hadn't processed what had happened, he feared.

Catching the waiter's eye, he cleared his throat and asked her, "you ready to go?"

She nodded, not meeting his eyes again, opting to stare at her hands, playing with the napkin she had been fiddling with the whole night - he had noticed, but hadn't wanted to bait her knowing she was nervous enough. He waved a hand in the poor lad's direction, catching his eye and making a motion indicating for him to bring them their bill. Waiting until it was time to go after he paid, he struggled with himself for a couple of silent minutes in which all he wanted to do was ask her, just _ask_ her. Would she push him off? Yell at him? Give him a sour look? Flip him off and tell him to leave her alone? She was so unpredictable, he was better off not knowing...

"Why did you do that?"

Or not. Apparently his brain and his mouth weren't exactly coordinated.

Oh hell, it was out now. Let's see what she had to say about that. Resting his arm on the table and leaning his head on his hand, he looked expectantly at her, knowing full well she would know what he was asking about. She wouldn't dare playing dumb with him, not at this point. He saw her flinch a bit, and not a few seconds later a cocky look had stolen her features, turning playful eyes towards him, leaving him a little bewildered. What was she doing?

Oh, right. They were still playing for an audience, he realized.

"Had to shut you up one way or another, didn't I?"

He had to suppress a real laugh at that. She was brilliant. Not only was she staying in character: she was also throwing the ball to his field, still fighting him. He smirked back at her, eyebrow raising at her tone.

"And not having champagne around tonight, you thought the best way to do it was kissing me?" He chuckled, shaking his head amusedly. This girl was too much. "If you had done that the night of the Gala this would all have gone so much smoother, Swan..."

"Oh I'm sure it'd have been epic enough. And fair: you ruining my dress, and me kissing you in return." Her gaze turned steely, fixed on his face intently. "I am not one of your groupies, as you may have found out already."

Oh, he knew that. He could have pointed out how she seemed to have been playing their albums though, but decided to follow a different route.

"Well, at least I have found out something else from tonight:" he paused for effect, knowing she would be intrigued about it. When she finally looked over at him to hear what he was about to say, he inclined his head, his lips forming a real grin, adding, "you taste like cocoa."

He saw her trying to fight a smile, and he kept grinning until she responded, eyes going up to the sky as if she were tired of having to up with him. "And you taste like wine."

* * *

They walked back to the parking lot where his ride was, and once again he opened the passenger's door for her, commenting on her more than questionable balance on those heels she wore. He knew she wanted to agree - how could she not? He could see her wincing a couple of times when she stepped foot on the ground and he couldn't blame her, those things looked positively deadly - but that pride of hers she had admitted earlier wouldn't let her, resorting to rolling her eyes at him.

He was starting to realize how she tried not to show how he made her laugh. Whenever he said something she found ever so little funny, he noticed how she tried to school her features, closing off, as if it'd give him some kind of power over her the fact that she thought he could in some way or another make her smile. It bothered him more than he cared to admit, but he could at least go home with the knowledge that tonight she had laughed, openly, _with_ him. And _at_ him. And _because_ of him.

The reality that he was irked about it in the first place kept creeping at him at times, acting as a ringing alarm in the back of his head reminding him that this was all a ruse for the band to speed off. He shouldn't be holding any candles for this girl. She had her life, he had his. This was a job they both had been given and they were supposed to carry out as smoothly as they could.

But of course, there was always that little voice calling him out on his bullshit and adding that it wouldn't kill anyone if they did get along. And to make that possible, it'd be better if the Swan girl actually enjoyed his company on some extent and stopped trying to bite his head off whenever he was around her. And fuck him if he wasn't funny. He had been called many things in his life - manwhore, asshole, douche, bossypants, stubborn, sex on legs; you call it, but damn him if he wouldn't let anyone deny he was a charming one.

He told himself it was one of the reasons why it annoyed him to no end that this impossibly obstinate woman insisted on not acknowledging something so trivial and inherent to his persona.

And that she didn't trust him entirely yet.

As he turned on the radio, one of their songs came on, and he set to ask her something he had been wondering since the previous night. "So, what did you think of our album?"

She had been looking at the window distractedly, so she stopped for a bit until she responded to him. "Hmmm? Oh, yeah, it was... pretty great actually. I just played the last one though - will have to check out the other two."

He fought a little smile at her answer. She even knew how many albums they had out. Huh. A teasing tilt in his voice, he commented, "look at you, and you said you weren't a groupie."

"I am not - but apparently I am surrounded by yours who insist on me checking your stuff. They overpower me."

"Will have to thank Ruby for that," he acknowledged. Red Lips was starting to grow on him.

Silence fell over them again, the song filling the inside of the car and the unanswered questions and consequences of everything that had happened that evening hanging in the air, threatening to consume both of them. Killian wasn't sure why he wanted to reassure her at all, but it was all he could think about at the moment. He didn't want her to feel trapped or miserable, even though no one could blame him if she did - she had signed the blasted thing, after all. Carefully watching over her, he asked, "so - you feel any less nervous about this?"

"What?" She had no idea what he was talking about, did she?

"Come on Swan. You were trembling like a leaf when we started this. I know you weren't 100% about it. Feel any better now that we have, '_cleared the air'_ a bit? Now you know more about me, as I do know more about you. It's a start," he shrugged, as if trying to make it look easier than it really was. Despite he knew how not-simple-at-all this was. At all. Especially for the both of them.

She scoffed at him. "Oh yeah, I'm sure soon we'll be doing trust falls and singing Kumbaya together."

This lass was something. Try to soothe her, she'll punch you in return. That's how she rolled.

"Oh for fuck's sake blondie, give me a break. I'm trying here okay?" He smiled broadly picturing her falling into his arms doing a trust fall. He and the guys had had to practice those once in a group-convention-therapy thing Gold had suggested they attended some months ago to solve some stress issues they were having with the tour and the album.

Let's leave it in he wouldn't be putting his life in any of his mates' hands after those. Jerks.

Still grinning at the memory, he added, "though I won't deny that was funny."

She scoffed _again_, offended. "Of course I did. I'm hilarious, I'll have you know."

"Oh, you are, and I am not?" This gal had some nerve.

"If you weren't so intent in being a dirty innuendo-spouting pig, it'd be easier for me to actually laugh at your brilliance and inventive jokes, sir."

He had never been called so many names in one sole conversation in his entire life. That must have been a record. Not letting it get him down, he set his jaw and looked purposefully at her, one hand gripping the wheel and the other lowering the music so she would listen to him with no chance of mishearing anything. "I swear I'm going to start a list of every fucking time I make you smile."

Eyes wide and lingering on his, she blinked, surprised. "What?"

He nodded and went on. "Yep. And it'll double count if you grin and triple if you laugh."

"You're so full of yourself it's not even funny," she retorted, tearing her gaze from his.

"It's the only way to make you see you actually like me," he explained. It was pretty obvious in his head.

"Why would you want me to like you?"

"I like _you_."

Her head jerked towards him, and she stood staring open-mouthed at him. "You do?"

He shrugged, stating the facts he had come to terms with since he had met this enigma of a woman. "Well, as far as company goes, you're not that bad; apparently you're a fantastic drunk, you nearly orgasm when you eat chocolate, and you dared to kiss me in front of a camera just because you were pissed off at me." He met her eyes again, his lip quirking upwards. "You're kind of a mystery, Miss Swan."

"That doesn't mean..." she was rudely cut off by her phone beeping. Sending him an apologetic look, she fished it out from the depths of her purse and he heard the sound of her unlocking it. He spied her from the corner of his eye as she read whatever she had been sent. She was frowning at the screen, and read aloud "_Check your twitter mentions._"

What.

"What?"  
"It's a text from Mary Margaret." She let out a long, staggering breath, one hand gripping the armrest and the other still holding the device in an iron grip. "Okay, here goes nothing I guess."

He frowned, not really sure he was ready to face the music yet. It was easier to lose himself here, in his car, with her by his side, keeping their battle of wits alive and burning, and ignoring that the rest of the world was probably aware of the fact that they were right now leaving the place where they had shared a romantic evening involving deliciously expensive food, flavored desserts and a kiss. He heard her puff under her breath, murmuring and grumbling incoherently and when not a minute later they were waiting for another stop light, she turned to him with expectant green eyes.

"Well, Ruby will be thrilled." She held up the screen of her phone, and he squinted his eyes to see a tiny picture. "We're Twitter official."

He snatched the phone from her, bringing it closer to his face, already dreading whatever they had written. He recognized the Twitter app, and came to the conclusion it should have been one of the people creeping with their phones in _Il Cielo_ who had already sent the picture to the infinite users on the web to judge what they had immortalized with their cameras. In this case, it was some random _ princess_consuela_ who apparently was "DYING. OMG. WHAT IS GOING ON. DEAD. I CAN'T EVEN. WHAT IS AIR." over the picture attached. He tapped on it so it'd turn bigger, allowing him to inspect it closer.

...wow.

He didn't expect it to look so - _real_?

He wasn't sure by whom or where it had been taken exactly, but they'd had a great angle at the bit they were snatching it, he had to admit. Emma's braided strands of hair fell lazily over her shoulder, her hands smooth and fair against the dark material of his shirt bringing him closer to her, both of their eyes closed. Damn, new generation phones and their cameras could make the most random candid look like a freaking photo-shoot.

Studying it closely, he suddenly groaned. "Oh God."

"What?" she was quickly leaning over the dashboard, alarmed.

He put a hand over his face, not daring to look at her and talking through his fingers. "I should have moved, that's not my good profile - it's the left one."

He could practically feel her staring holes at him. When he left his hand fall and he turned to her once again, he was surprised to see her suppressing a smile.

"Look at you, all worried about your pretty face," she teased.

He studied her for a minute, and when a loud klaxon behind them made him return his eyes ahead of him to the road, he called her again.

"Swan?"

"Yes?"

"You're smiling." Grinning from ear to ear, he lifted a finger in his hand, counting loudly. "One."

* * *

Ugh. That damn alarm clock. That damn song. Was there any way to kill a song? If so, he'd love to learn how to do that.

Why hadn't he changed it yet?

Repeating that mantra over and over again, palming around the sheet and under the pillow, he tapped the screen forcefully to stop the obnoxious ringing without looking at it.

...wait a second. That wasn't the song he had set as the alarm, was it...? Then what was it? He held the phone closer to his still heavy-lidded eyes, attempting to read the name or text or whatever the hell it was the bloody thing was torturing him with. He finally managed to grasp it was August calling. _Of-fucking-course_. He picked up and didn't even bother to greet his friend - he just groaned. Loudly.

"Hey, lover boy. How are you?", his friend's cheerful voice did nothing to lighten his customary sour morning mood.

"What do you want?", he rasped, voice clogged with sleep and fatigue. Ugh. How he wished he was still dreaming and sleeping and... not... _this_.

August made a 'tut-tut' sound, as if reprimanding a child. What was it with him? "You should know by now I'm the one bearing news and forced to tell you everything that's going on, Killian."

He put a hand over his face, so the light coming through the window only peeked between his fingers. "What did you do in another life to be burdened with such a tedious job, you poor sod?"

"Woah - those were some big words for someone who has just woken up. I'm impressed." Oh, look at that. He was in a joking mood today. Oh happy day.

Sighing, he rubbed tiredly his hand over his eyes. "Yeah yeah, I'm awesome, I know. What is it now?"

"Well, first and foremost - aren't you going to tell me how things went with Emma last night?"

Oh. Right. The date. Now everybody with internet connection or a TV or the least concern about media gossip knew him and Swan were a supposed item.

Make that happy day squared, please.

"As if you hadn't heard enough, you liar - it was out and about not ten minutes after we left the building, for Christ's sake. I'm sure Gold has told you about that too." He wondered what Gold must have said when he saw those tweets - and surely articles written minutes later. Maybe he had been in the lookout with Belle, faces pressed to the screen, waiting for the two main puppets in his show to do as he said - or wanted to, at least.

"Yeah, the pics were quite amusing to be honest."

As much as he knew it'd come to this, it still made him squirm a little to know everybody would see those and wonder what could have gone down between him and Swan to get to that point. "Are there a lot?", he asked, not really sure he was ready for the answer.

"Not so many. The paps got some of you guys entering the restaurant and getting out, you helping her into the car and all."

Huh. Wait - he had seen one of the kiss, right? Had he dreamt about it? Hadn't he been assaulted by Swan's mouth at all? No, that couldn't be right - he wouldn't forget that - his mind could conjure pretty _interesting_ scenarios in his dreams, mind you, but the cocoa smell still haunting him could not be a product of his imagination.

He hadn't realized his finger was tracing absentmindedly his lips, maybe trying to awake the memory of her own against his, in their attempt to pry them open so their tongues would entangle in another of their battles they liked to fight so much...

August's voice brought his _really wrong_ thoughts to a halt. "...But as much as paps aren't allowed inside the place itself, phones _are,_ and other customers seemed to find the scene you and Emma were displaying worthy enough for keeping it in their mobile memories. And every media web available too, of course," he added in a cheerful voice. God, how he wanted to hit him.

"Yeah, I bet it was all fun for you to see those, huh?" He could just imagine all of them fist bumping and laughing together among '_that's our boy!'s_ if they had found out while they were hanging out together. Typical Lost Boy behavior. Assholes.

Ah, who was he kidding, he would have done the same if it had been one of the others - it was a guy thing.

"You don't even wanna know. Check your texts now - I'm sure you'll have a couple of them you'll find amusing enough," August commented with a laugh. Oh God. He wasn't looking forward for the texts... Sighing yet again, he propped himself on his elbows and a sudden thought occurred to him. "Did you talk to Gold? Is he okay with it?"

His friend seemed surprised by his concern. "You kidding? He's ecstatic."

"Of course he is," he grumbled between clenched teeth. That bastard, he was sure he had bet he would fuck it up.

August kept talking, none the wiser of his bitter thoughts towards their manager. "Anyway, this wasn't just a we-know-what-you-did-last-night call. There's job to do, mate."

No way. He had to be fucking _kidding_ him. Letting out another loud groan, he fell on the bed again with a plop, gritting his teeth in order not to whine like a child refusing to get up to go to school. "Jesus fucking Christ, can a guy get a break around here?"

"Sure, going on a date with a pretty lady to an obscenely sumptuous restaurant is the epitome of hard work," August commented sarcastically.

"Yeah well, fending off Swan is not so easy, let me tell you."

Boy, did he know that now.

His mate's words turned wondering. "And yet you managed to get her to kiss you. Your Irish mojo keeps working, I see."

Ah, the Irish mojo. It had been a long time until he had revealed his bandmates his most guarded secret, after they had all first met and started the band. One could only be too cautious with precious information like that. Especially when it involved the possibility of getting him laid.

A professional never disclosed his secrets, after all.

"See? Told you it was real!", he managed to say in between chuckles.

He could practically hear his roll of eyes. "I was kidding, Killian. Whatever: we're rehearsing out last set. This evening. Don't be late."

"Rehearsal? For what?"

"We are performing on this show later on this week."

Were they? Huh. He didn't recall them having any engagements this week - or had this dating Swan thing had started bearing fruits at an incredibly fast pace?

It wasn't possible. It was too soon, Jesus. Of course not. That'd be ridiculous, it hadn't even been 24 hours, for God's sake. Get a grip, Jones. Trying to maintain an indifferent voice, he answered, "oh. Cool then."

"You're not gonna put up a fight?"

"Why would I do that?"

"I don't know. Typically you, I guess." He paused a moment and suddenly words rushed so fast Killian was having trouble getting a hang of what he was actually saying. "Oh, and you'd better get ready - apart from playing, they're interviewing you."

Wait, what.

"WHAT?", he roared, completely livid.

"See you at 4. Later, bro," the slimy coward hang up, the beep of the closed line the only sound mocking him in his haste of getting some kind of answer to this new development.

He was going to kill that motherfucker. Worst news bearer _ever_.

* * *

Killian was extremely tempted to go grab some rope and gag his friends so they would just shut the fuck up. He had known this would come when he learned about the deal, but _Jesus_, was it getting out of hand. He just wanted this first silly mocking stage to get over with once and for all (boy, was he ready for that) - though he guessed that'd be pretty much impossible, knowing his mates.

The Lost Boys, after all. How many times should he repeat it to himself so it'd get branded in his memory? They were basically kids. And what did kids best at? Make fun of their friends.

Banging the drumstick on the cymbal loudly, Jefferson addressed him again with a smirk. "Come on, Killian - what did you spike her drink with to make her kiss you?"

Rolling his eyes and holding the neck of the guitar forcefully in his left hand after he had been practicing a challenging chord change, he gave his friend a hard look, trying to look stern. "If I had wanted to drug her, I wouldn't have taken her to a very public location, Jeff. That's more your thing."

They all laughed, and Philip shook his head as he sat on one of the chairs arranged along the cabin they were using for the rehearsal. "It's so weird, though - to know you're going to be in there, playing a part, and we are all aware of the truth behind it. You should have seen Aurora last night - she completely freaked out, she couldn't keep it together. She's so excited for you, she nearly cried." Oh God, was she? Poor lass had been trying to set him up with a couple of her friends for years, but he had always driven them off, knowing if it didn't work out - and he was _sure_ it wouldn't, as he hadn't been looking for anything more than fun and a willing body at the time, and he sure as hell didn't need his friend's girlfriend to pick girls for him - she'd be hurt for her girlfriend's sakes. So _no, thank you_ it had been for those birds who asked her to introduce them to the infamous Killian Jones. "It was quite funny to witness, to tell you the truth. She was convinced you were unable to love."

That only earned more laughter from his mates, not aware of how his fists clenched protectively over his guitar in a poor attempt to hide the slight trembling of his limbs.

It was sad to think that the people you felt closer to weren't in on his darkest secrets, his worst regrets.

"Ah, poor Aurora. Still believes in Killian's pure heart," Victor mused, shooting him an amused look.

"Yep. My heart is rotten. Can we please move on?" he said dryly, moving to get some of the notes he had taken on the songs they were performing. He didn't want to admit he was a bit concerned of them playing again for an audience - they hadn't since they finished the tour six months ago, and even if they had kept playing and rehearsing, this felt like a test. Something big, something to prove.

He wondered if this was how Emma felt whenever she had to audition for a role. He'd have to ask her in the future.

Woah. Where had that come from?

"Aw come on Killian, we're only joking around. You know I'm more than jelly with all of this," Victor added, maybe finally acknowledging he was a bit tired of the pushing around. He playfully punched his arm. "And I'd be even more than jelly if you got that Ruby's number for me, now that we're at it."

Rolling his eyes, August suddenly lifted his head and waved a hand at the window pane separating them from the studio room they always lounged in. Whipping his head back, he saw Belle and Gold, with Grace trailing behind them, approaching the door leading to the cabin. He heard Philip mutter under his breath "remember - Grace doesn't know a thing so keep your mouth shut" and then all of them exchanged nods and hugs with the three newcomers. Belle kissed Killian's cheek and whispered playfully in his ear, "well done, sailor. That was quite a fun show to watch."

"Glad you liked it," he grumbled under his breath, though it lacked the bite his mates had received since he had gotten in here - Belle had that vulnerability about her, and he couldn't find it in him to be mad at her.

Eyebrows rising to her forehead, she sent him an innocent look. "You did seem like you were having a good time."

"Shut it, Gold," he laughed, poking her in the ribs and making her laugh and hit him in his arm in return.

Gold lifted a hand, bringing their attention back to him. "Okay, are we all ready for the performance this week?" They all nodded and he turned steely eyes to him. "And Jones - what about the interview? You up for it?"

As if he had any other say in the matter? "What do you mean?"

"It won't be a long interview - the host wasn't counting on one of their other guests to have so limited time, so they had to fill the last minutes of the show - he contacted me to see if you wouldn't mind to join as the last interviewed of the program," the manager explained. Ah. That was why he hadn't known about it until now, it had been a last-resort thing. Waving his hand impatiently, he answered, "yeah, okay, whatever."

"You up for the assault?"

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Yes. Don't worry, it's all under control."

"Okay. Oh, and the week after that you should ask Ms. Swan and her companions if they'd _kindly_ like to show up at the concert we had scheduled."

Confusion etched on his face, he nearly sputtered, "I thought she had promo with Glass and the movie cast?"

"Yeah, indeed she does these whole two weeks, but she's free at night, isn't she?", Gold noted, the hidden meaning behind his words clear: _"She has to come."_

"Oh." He wasn't sure how to feel about Emma and her family showing up at their concert. Despite her being more open around him now and him definitely knowing she had at least listened to their music and had enjoyed it. But watching them play in public - that was another thing entirely.

Performing was one of the best experiences in his life. He couldn't get enough of the feeling, the rush, the adrenaline, the connection with the audience, the exchange of energy between stage and crowd, lyrics mingling between them and notes and sparks floating in the air.

It was the thing most resembling to magic he had ever experienced.

And, as much as he had let Emma see and learn a little more than he usually did about him in their date, this was an entire new whole level for him.

He was brought out of his musings when he felt Grace's hand pulling him to his chair, making him sit down and setting herself on his lap. He liked to call her his own little kitty, as she always went to sit on others and looking for the warmest place in the room. She just was. Kissing her forehead gently and caressing her curls, he asked her, "and how was your day, princess?"

She scrunched up her nose and commented "school was boring." She suddenly turned excited eyes towards him. _Oh no._ "Until Papa told me about you and the girl with the pretty blonde hair. Can I call her aunt Emma now?"

It was hard not to let her fall from his lap in shock when the rest of the people in the room stifled laughter at the girl's words, while he tried not to choke.

* * *

_***waves white handkerchief in the air* **_

_**Hiiiiii. **_

_**After that 'cliffie' - come ooon, it wasn't that bad... was it? - I bring to you new developments for the boys and girls in here. What did you think? Poor bb Killian is in for good...**_

_**(if you guys get the references thrown out here I'll love you 5ever btw).**_

_**Also, sorry if there's any real princess_consuela out there - I've always wanted that name for an account okay. Don't judge me.**_

_**Are you Irish mojo believers? I am.**_

_**Before you lot start harassing me with 'update soon!' - this will be a tricky week for me to update, as I'll be going home tomorrow for Easter break and I'll be catching up/being social/under parents' scrutiny (UGH). So... bear with me, please. **_

_**Also, you know I love you all, right? Yeah? Okay. And I wanna carry all your reviews/favorites/alerts and comments on tumblr and messages around in my pocket and pet them and caress them softly and hum songs to them. That bad.**_

_***mwah***_

_**PS: There were loads of Marina and The Diamonds involved in the writing of this chapter.**_


	15. Chapter 15: Interviews

**_Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or Once Upon A Time - the trolls Edward Kitsis and Adam Horowitz do. If I did, I'd make them canon faster than lighting. _**

**_(Though WE TOTES ARE ON THE WAY, AREN'T WE? IN THE JR ABOARD TO NEVERLAND MWAHAHAHA)_**

* * *

"Fifty minutes break and we're back, Emma."

"Thank you."

Getting up from the chair she had been occupying all morning, she flexed her arms slowly, flinching unconsciously when she heard a quiet _crack_ from her protesting spine. Whoever claimed that actors had it easy could be her guest and fill her quota of endless interviews, one right after the other, questions hastily barked nonstop trying to get the most answers possible in the short time they had allowed with them. There was a moment when she felt like they all asked the exact same things and she didn't have to think, just stand there like a broken record going _lalala_.

As fun as it may sound, it wasn't.

She walked past the room after nodding politely to some of the camera guys she still wasn't really familiar with and waving at Regina, sitting in her place behind the reporter's chair so she could see her properly during the interview itself - and send her warning looks, glares and whatever she deemed necessary when she talked too much or wasn't sure how to get out from difficult questions.

She was such a newbie for these things, she thought with a roll of her eyes.

Though she had to admit promo had been going relatively well, if she were being honest. In the last two days she had dispatched most of the solo interviews from cinema magazines and webs - the ones she most valued, as they were solely focused in the movie, the style, the process of filming, the set and props, the chemistry between the cast, the casting selection and the work with the director - and not, let's say, her personal life. Which she was more than fine _not_ discussing. Not at all.

Though she knew it wouldn't be unavoidable in the long run, especially knowing that the next batch of sittings were with more... yellow press, so to speak.

And with Graham, nonetheless.

She hadn't really had time to talk to him yet, as they had all been running around and exchanging confused journalists from one room to another in a chaotic haze that she hadn't really gotten the hunch of. She felt like in limbo, sitting in her little throne, people coming and going and the camera rolling from afar, not missing a word leaving her lips. It was slightly intimidating at times. As it was, she had just been able to talk a couple of minutes with her costar - until later, that is.

She was expecting a full on third grade interrogation, but she guessed she had it coming, as she hadn't contacted him at all since he called to tell her about promo, while she was at the studio with The Lost Boys and the contract hadn't even been signed yet.

Ah, those were the times.

Regina had contacted her the very next day after the official date out with Jones, of course. Emma hadn't been really sure what to expect, but to her utmost shock, her manager had been even chipper on the phone, reading pieces of articles on the web and several social networks about her relationship with the rockstar.

_Fake relationship_, she reminded herself. _Let's not get confused there, Swan_.

One way or another, everything seemed to be going according to plan: The Lost Boys were rising slowly but surely from the ashes their frontman had burned them - woah, that sounded harsh, but hey, she wasn't the one who had been photographed whoring around and completely wasted every damn week, - getting some performances and singles coming back to the radio petitioned from their fans; and she, on the other hand, was getting in on bigger radars, from what Regina had told her.

All in all, she couldn't deny things were going pretty well for her. For now.

Making her way to the room she was temporarily using as her dressing room, she first stopped in the cafeteria to fetch a cup of cocoa and Ruby, who had been hired for the whole promo stage of the movie as her make up artist. Glass had been more than fine with her suggestion - "what are friends for, right?", he had said - though she suspected that he wasn't really worried about their actors' appearance at these events.

Pity, as she definitely _was_, for once. Those pics ended up in magazines, after all. And the whole damn videos on Youtube, for that matter! If she couldn't control her verbal diarrhea or her awkward faces while she was interviewed, at least she would make sure she looked damn fine for it.

Thus, Ruby in the house. She saw her sitting at one of the couches in the corner, laptop balancing on her jeans-clad legs and laughing at the screen, headphones on her head as to not disturb the few people present in the room. She approached from behind to see what she was having such fun with - and stopped dead in her tracks.

What the hell was Victor, aka funny guy from The Lost Boys, doing facetiming her friend?

She saw his image in the screen smile and point at her - she couldn't make out the words, as Ruby was wearing headphones - and she awkwardly waved back, still somehow fazed by the whole thing. Ruby whipped her head back and grinned brightly at her. "Emma! Oh - wait, Victor, I'll take these out so you can properly say hi..." she said as she unplugged the headphones from the base. "That's it. Say hi!" she commanded.

"Hi Emma! Looking nice!," he complimented, winking teasingly.

"Hey Victor," she answered, hands in pockets. "Eh, not that I'm not happy to see you, but if you don't mind me asking, how come you two are facetiming...?" she asked to both of them. He laughed and shook his head.

"Oh, I texted Ruby and asked if I could call her today - we needed to tell you something, but then we got into talking - apparently she was bored," he commented, smiling at Ruby, who was nodding eagerly.

"Yep. While you do all that talking I am here all by myself, you know," she pouted, a glint in her eyes. She couldn't help but roll her eyes at her friend. She hadn't minded last time - pretty high number of cute guys around for her then, but now she looked like she had found her last prey.

"Anyway, we wanted to let you know that you are officially invited to The Lost Boys' concert next Tuesday," he said, waving some pieces of paper in his hand pompously in the air - which had to be tickets, or so she guessed.

Oh, my.

"Are you serious? OH MY GOD!" Ruby squealed, gripping her hand forcefully in hers and nearly knocking the laptop from her lap in her excitement. Emma had to laugh at her enthusiasm - she recalled how, before all of this had started, she had insisted on going to any of these guys' shows. No wonder she was so psyched about this. Groupie.

Emma bit her bottom lip and looked back at the musician, still beaming at them from the screen. "Thank you so much. _I'm sure these have been very hard to get for us_," she said, adding the necessary sarcasm to her voice so he'd guess the true meaning behind her words. _I know these are part from the fake arrangement. Nice._

He shrugged innocently in response, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "What can I say, the boys really want you to come. All of you, in fact," he added, sending a sideway look to Ruby, who flushed a bit at his comment.

Oh, dear. These two were so into each other, it wasn't even funny.

Pity it wasn't _their_ relationship they were trying to sell out to the papers.

Sitting on the couch armrest, Emma blew a strand of hair from her forehead impatiently. "Tuesday it is, then?"

"Yep."

Huh. She would have to make sure there weren't too many things to do on Wednesday, though she guessed Regina knew about this already and had made clear these fake dates and media sightings wouldn't affect her work schedule in any way.

Before she could say anything, Ruby was already answering for her. "We will be there, don't worry. We wouldn't miss it for the world. I have been...," she paused, squinting her eyes at the laptop. Emma discerned a new silhouette entering the room where Victor was, and suddenly an altered voice called out, making him jump out from his seat in shock.

"Hey - what are you doing still there? Is that what you're going to wear? What are you doing?" Jones approached his friend and mimicked them, staring confusedly at his side of the screen. "Is that... Red Lips?"

Ruby beamed at him, pleased he recognized her. "Hi Killian!"

"Swan?" Poor guy was completely speechless. She couldn't blame him. She facepalmed at the hilarity of the situation. "Oh God..."

"What the hell is going on?" he asked, shaken, a panicked tilt in his voice. She had never seen him so freaked out - except from when he had had to smoke out of the room when they were told about the deal.

Victor, sensing his friend's mood, tried to sooth him. "I will explain again just for your sorry sake. I called Ruby to tell her about the concert - the one you have neglected to tell Emma about," he explained in a chastising tone. Jones didn't look amused at all, narrowing his eyes and jutting out his chin.

"I'm sorry for being a bit preoccupied with everything going perfect today, you know."

Emma was worried now. "What is going on?"

"Nothing," he dismissed her, and pointed at him menacingly. "You'd better get ready, we are leaving for rehearsals in half an hour."

"Fantastic. Care to entertain the ladies for a bit while I go?" he got up from his seat and smiled back at them - well, at Ruby. "I'll text you, Ruby."

"'Kay. Bye!," her friend grinned and blowed a kiss at him before he left the room, a warning look sent to Jones in his wake. She then turned to Emma again. "I'm going to run to the bathroom quickly. Then we have... how long 'til the next guy comes popping questions?"

"Um," she looked at her watch, working out the time in her head, "forty minutes."

"Perfect, I'll be back in a sec. Bye, Killian!" she waved and left hurriedly to the hall leading to the bathroom. Emma let herself drop from the armrest to the couch, examining carefully her fake-boyfriend's tired face, the bags under his eyes and nervous demeanor. She clasped her hands in front of her, startling him.

"Okay, spill. What's got you so worked up?"

He sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "It's nothing, Swan."

"Wait," she took Ruby's headphones and put them on after plugging them again, petting her curls while she did so. She checked the little screen where she could see her reflection and scrunched up her nose. "These things always make me feel like a martian."

"You don't need much for that," he snorted, smiling lightly as he examined her.

She sent him an unamused look. "Har. Bloody. Har."

"Look at us, comedian royalty."

She was getting tired of him evading the question. "Shut up and tell me what the hell is wrong with you."

He deflated, lounging in his chair and letting his head fall on his hand. He tugged his hair with the other, making his eyes clench in the process. "We have a performance today. It's been a while since we had one, and I'm afraid I'm a bit rusty."

For a heartbeat, there was silence between them, until Emma snapped out of it and stared at the screen, completely baffled at his confession. "That's it? That's why you nearly bit poor Victor's head off? Jesus Christ, shove it up your ass, go out there and play your freaking songs!"

"Swan, last time I checked you were supposed to play my girlfriend, not my mother. Or my wife," he growled at her, a defensive edge in his voice.

"I'll say whatever I damn well please so you stop moping around and doubting yourself."

His head came up at her words, a curious frown marring his forehead. "You believe in _me_?"

A slight sense of déjà-vu hit her. "_You like me?_"

She sighed, a hand going to rub her forehead - what had she gotten herself into? Not only had the idiot admitted liking her after the date, no, he dared her, and riled her up, and made her smile, and now caught every single detail she slipped in conversation and threw them back at her.

Ugh.

"I believe in your music. And your band. Just because you fucked up because of whatever happened to you, it doesn't mean your relationship with it has suffered. Don't push it away, just - use it to get you out of it. Isn't music therapeutic or something? I shouldn't be the one telling you this! Don't be stupid, Jones. You'll do fine," she finished, her face intent in his, trying to convey her thoughts through the freaking screen separating them. If he kept that shitty attitude she'd have to kick his ass, and she was not in the mood. And had work to do, of course.

He pondered her words for a minute, stroking the reddish scruff with his hand in slow, circular motions, until he met her eyes again. "Thank you."

She shrugged. "You're welcome."

He licked his lips and commented offhandedly, "you'll have to check us out, tune in tonight. 11:35."

Huh. Not only did she have to attend his concert next week, as Victor had told them earlier, now she even had to see them whenever they showed up on TV? Yeah, not happening. She would probably be watching some show episode on her laptop with Henry or reading a book. Or anything. Whatever. Not involving seeing him.

She didn't understand why the idea made her squirm, though.

"I'll try."

He made a noise like he knew she was lying - which she was, but was not about to reveal that, and especially not to him of all people - and smirked. "Okay. Have fun with your interviews, Swan. Or should I say Ms. Jones?"

"In your dreams, Irishpants."

His smirk widened and his face inched closer to the screen. Jesus, this guy didn't even respect personal space in technologic conversations. "I'll tell the host about all your nicknames for me. Bye Swan, say bye to Red Lips from me!", and with that, he closed the laptop, the window where his face had been seconds earlier now pitch black.

_What?_

"What?" "JONES! JONES!"

But he had gone, not after revealing what she had already dreaded: he was being interviewed today. In a freaking late night talk show. So she would watch it.

She was going to kill him.

* * *

"Oi, Swan!"

She nearly spilled the last remnants of her cocoa over herself when she heard Graham's voice calling her, she was so startled. Turning on the spot, she saw him striding towards her, grin plastered on his face as he approached. She studied him carefully, trying not to look like she was ogling too much. Which she was, but whatever.

He was one fine piece of man, there was no denying it.

"Look at that swag, ladies! Here he is!" she mocked when he finally reached her side. He laughed and pointed his finger menacingly at her.

"You should know better than teasing me... you know I'll always retaliate."

"You do?"

"Uh-huh"

"What are you gonna do?"

"Mmmm... this?" He went to tickle her, but she had already run off in the opposite direction, knowing he'd go for the tickling. He had found out during shooting and was his secret weapon against her.

It wasn't fair.

They came back to the room bantering back and forth, and Emma acknowledged that there were now two chairs where there had been just hers previously. She took a seat, letting her hands nervously knock on the armrests in an unsynchronized rhythm.

Thus she was no musician. She should really stuck to acting.

Graham studied her curiously for a minute until his hand came upon hers. "You are making me nervous. What is wrong?"

She tried to act nonchalant, shrugging lightly. "Oh, nothing. Caffeine high."

"Cocoa doesn't have caffeine."

"Of course not. It has cocaine."

Yep. Bad jokes. That was her ultimate resort when nerves crept upon her.  
Graham suddenly groaned at her side and she turned to see him trying to hide a smile, a hand covering his face as if he were horrified by her stupid joke. Which was completely plausible. "Oh God, Jones' humor is already rubbing off on you."

_Here we go._

"I was waiting for you to bring it up," she sighed, dropping her head back and waiting for the reproaching and complaints. She suddenly felt like a teenager right before her parents were about to berate her for something she had done.

She saw him raise an eyebrow. "Why? Were you worried I'd be mad about it?"

"Why would you be mad?"

"I don't know. Why didn't you tell me?"

That was one good question. Why hadn't she? She had had plenty of time, and she would have avoided all this scene for starters.

Alas, despite being considered as a brave and tough woman, it wasn't always the case. Emma sometimes felt the need to hide.

Or run.

She finally answered him in a hushed voice, suddenly feeling very small. And stupid. "I felt weird. He is your friend."

"And I am yours," he answered quietly.

"Yeah, but... I don't know." She looked back up at him, remorse clear in her expression. "I'm sorry. I should have told you."

He smiled back at her, letting her know it was okay and making her feel extraordinarily lighter - as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She would have been devastated if this deal with Jones had compromised in any way her friendship with Graham. "I must admit I was really shocked when I found out. For a moment I thought it was fake," he chuckled. Luckily he wasn't looking at her at that moment, or he would had noticed for sure how her face paled and her hands gripped the edge of the seat so forcefully her knuckles had turned white.

_Get a grip, Emma. You're an actress, for fuck's sake!_

She was saved from answering when the first journalist was brought in, introducing himself, shaking hands with them both, stating the source he was representing and finally getting comfortable in the seat across from Graham and her. Here started the fun part of promoting, as Graham had told her when they were filming.

Fun, because now at least they could banter and laugh at each other - and sometimes even at some of the poor interviewers, as they experienced when one of them had trouble with his accent and Emma misunderstood his question in the most awkward sense one could ever encounter in their lives. Embarrassing.

Emma was feeling fairly at ease, following her costar's lead in their answers, reflecting on the filming, the long working hours, the connection and relationship between the characters they had portrayed - and, of course, funny stories on set most of the fans craved and asked for. They opted to leave out the fan-hiding-in-the-closet experience as to not give any other hormone-ridden girls out there ideas. Instead, they chose their infamous run-in with a rather large rabbit that scared the crap out of Emma when Graham decided to pick it up and put it right in front of her face, its whiskers tickling her face when she had been taking a nap, curled in one of the corners of her trailer in-between takes.

When she had answered almost sobbing and in hysterics she had thought it was a cockroach, Graham had nearly lost it. Not even explaining that by a cockroach she meant the whiskers being its antlers. Nope. Nothing. Now he teased her mercilessly about them wherever they went.

Jackass.

By the time one of the last interviewers was coming in, they both were a bit worn out but in good spirits, Graham mimicking as if he had antlers on his head to make fun of her, earning him a rather hard - yet completely deserved - punch in his arm. They stopped and tried to act professional for their sakes, as she could see Regina's rolling eyes at their antics from time to time. They shook hands with the funny man, who wore a rather distinctive red hat and looked over his notes profusely, looking for all that was worth like a fish out of the water. She smiles reassuringly at him, sympathizing with the poor guy and attempting to ease his nerves in some way. After stammering he worked for some web called "The Home Underground" and his name was William Smee, they started off conversing with him about the same questions they had already answered at least twenty times already during the day. Emma was growing tired and started listing in her mind the things she had to get done as soon as she got home after picking up Henry later, and the book she should finish reading, and the scripts Regina had managed to guilt her into reading again - and the fucking interview she had to watch because of Killian-fucking-Jones...

Her inner grumbling was rudely interrupted by Graham's elbow knocking hers, making her whip her head up to poor William-whatever-he-was-named, who looked torn between scared for bringing her back to the interview or laughing with her for not being focused enough. She blinked rapidly, feeling her cheeks flush. "I am so so sorry, I just spaced out for a bit without noticing. What was it you were asking?"

She was determined to be the best mannered professional actress this guy had ever interviewed in his life after that, - her pride talking, of course: she could not take failure, not especially in a freaking interview - sitting upright and ready to listen intently to whatever he may want to know. The Smee guy dropped his eyes to his notes and gulped. "Um - yeah, well. A lot of our readers want to know about that... sex scene you two share in the movie?"

Oh. She looked sideways at Graham, who was trying really hard not to laugh - if it was at her or at the poor reporter she would like to know, but she would deal with him later when they were alone.

Was she supposed to answer this?

"Yes, we do indeed share a sex scene," she stated slowly, not really knowing what else to say. She felt like Forrest Gump, all _"and that's all I have to say about that"_.

Yet, she was no Tom Hanks. Sadly.

Smee pressed on, taking the lead. "Was it difficult to shoot?"

"Difficult as in...?"

"I know Mr. Humbert has had previous experience in these kind of scenes, but you are fairly new to them, from what I have read in your research. I just would like to know how it went - was it hard?"

Oh boy. If Jones were here, he'd be cracking up at the pun. Even she was having trouble not grinning in his face.

"Um, it wasn't difficult to be completely honest. I am not that preoccupied about showing my bits or whatever, though I do have my principles about these kind of scenes. In this case, for this movie, I felt that this was something that had to happen, and had to be shown, as the tension and peak between our characters reaches a level it is undeniable and a complete waste if there were no... scratching that itch, if you know what I mean."

He nodded eagerly, pleased with her answer. "So, as we have still not watched it, can you give us any scoop on the moment itself, how it comes to happen...?"

Graham and her exchanged glances, hiding a smirk. "All we can say is that her back will never be the same again."

She laughed heartily. "Yeah, pretty orthopedic if you ask me, not really inspiring." She went on, sending her costar a mischievous look. "It helped that I was with one of the most attractive men in the planet, of course."

Graham chortled at her and was surely about to reply when Smee interrupted yet again. "I bet he comes second to a certain rockstar, doesn't he, Miss Swan?"

What?

Oh. OH.

She saw from the corner of her eye how Regina tensed and sent a warning glance in her direction, ominously asking her to play her part and don't screw everything up. She braced herself, mentally berating her inner panic away. She was ready. She really was.

"Oh? Is he?" she commented innocently, as if she had no idea what they were talking about.

She saw him spy his notes again, furrowing his brow. "I heard you are in a relationship with The Lost Boys' singer, Killian Jones - who, funnily enough, worked with your costar here, Graham."

She cocked a perfect eyebrow at him. "You heard?"

"Yeah, most of our readers expressed their utmost interest in this particular question, to be honest. They wanted to ask you how did you - and I quote - 'nagged that guy', how did you two meet, and if you'd ever consider working with him."

Before she could retort about how this all had nothing to do with the movie, Graham cut in, eager to add his input. "I introduced them; as you have pointed out, I met Killian and the boys long ago and we've been good friends since we worked together. Then I met Emma here and we all happened to be together the same night at the same place. Sparks flew. So - may I keep the Cupid nickname now?" he asked Emma, flashing her a pout. She made a face at him in response.

"Sure thing, Graham Cupid. It has quite a nice ring to it." She turned once again to the reporter. "As to if I'd ever work with him, I don't really see it happening, considering he is a singer and I am an actress."

The reporter shrugged carelessly at her. "See, there are many actresses out there suddenly releasing albums or trying out some singing. Or he could cameo in some project of yours."

This was getting absolutely priceless, she just wanted to roll from her chair to the floor and sob uncontrollably at the hilarity that was this interview.

Her. And Jones. Working. _Together_.

Not only did she have to act as if they were in a freaking relationship, no - now they wanted them to work together. _Together_.

_Fuck me sideways._

Shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter, she addressed him once more. "Haven't you heard, Mr. Smee? Love and work don't mash well together."

"So would you call it love? Apparently the night you two met, he ended up drenched in champagne - that you had thrown at him, sources claim..."

Oh. She hadn't remembered they knew about the more than colorful story of their first encounter...

That made for quite the tale, actually.

Fixing a dreamy smile on her lips, she posed like the perfect charmed lady in her first-week-relationship stage. "What can I say? There's a fine line between love and hate. And, apparently, that line... was a champagne glass."

Though, in her mind, she thought the line would have better been the hoodie.

* * *

"Give it back."

"No."

"Give. It. Back."

"No."

"Henry..."

He kept the remote behind his back, giving her a pleading look. "But why? You always choose, it's my turn!"

"I'm not even letting you choose, you have school tomorrow, you have to go to bed!" She was getting exasperated. She really was.

He stared at her as if she had two heads instead of one. Huh. "Mom, it's 11PM. I stay reading some nights way later than this."

"You do?" Huh. This kid was full of surprises lately. Why was she finding this out now?

"...no?"

She put her hands on her hips, giving him a stern glance. "You're in so much trouble now."

"Please, just - let's watch something for a bit and then I promise I'll go to bed? Please?"

She sighed, defeated at his insistence. Who was she kidding, he wasn't going anywhere, was he? _Why_?

Oh right, because he was asking to stay to watch the damn group perform in the damn talk show. She just knew it. Just her luck that he had been watching some random show in the same network when an ad during the break had claimed the Lost Boys would be in the talk show later that night.

Of course she had had to talk to him after the whole date thing. He hadn't been really surprised - which had shocked her to the core. She had expected some sort of reaction from him: maybe denial, bitterness, or simple concern. That, she could have handled if it had been the case.

Though at least she could breathe relieved for he had not reacted in the most dreaded scenario she had conjured: her son being suspicious. As Mary Margaret had pointed out when she had disclosed the contract and what it entailed in the first place, it'd be hard to convince Henry that this was something she had actually desired in the first place - something she wanted for herself. Seeing as she had fled from male company for the last years like it was the plague, no wonder her more-than-intuitive boy could start making assumptions about this sudden new love interest of hers.

And a well-known rockstar, nonetheless.

Yet again, he hadn't given her trouble. What had been even more surprising: he had been supportive. He assured her he understood why she hadn't mentioned anything at first about the whole thing - he could possibly freak out, lash out at her, or whatever kids did when they felt betrayed or angry at their parents in situations like these, she guessed, - and went on to admit he was glad she was finally dating someone, as he had feared she had given up on the idea of love.

_Love_.

She had climbed to bed that night feeling nauseous at the prospect of telling her poor son - who believed she was changing and letting herself open up, warming to someone out of their little inner circle, the only people who would ever know her as she was, - in who knows how long how wrong she had been about this man in her life, how it hadn't been the smartest decision to get involved in any way with him.

How her walls should be intact after all, as they had always been.

Apart from that, Henry felt strangely elated about the whole thing, of course: he was, after all, a fan of the group, so he was excited about meeting them and being able to unleash his adrenaline over their studio and such. She was quietly amused about it, and couldn't help but smile at the prospect of introducing him to young Grace and imagine what kind of shenanigans those two could pull together. Though, the half of her that felt amused was equally balanced by the panicked one who wanted nothing more than to hide her son away from all of this mess.

Especially concerning one Killian Jones.

She saw Henry's face lit up from the corner of her eye and knew the late show was about to start. She pulled him to her side, throwing a blanket over them both, and ruffled his hair slowly, not really interested in whatever the host was saying or the guests they had. She saw him snort at times and listen intently, while she just stared ahead of her, not really looking, not really focusing - colors and silhouettes blurring together before her while she tried to hold onto anything, thoughts messing around in her head.

"There they are!" Henry sat straighter beside her in his excitement, and she could almost see his ears perk up, like a dog's. Aw, she loved his ears.

Speaking of ears, the Irish elf extraordinaire's were pretty cute too, she admitted inwardly when the five of them came out to the stage. They were just... so elvish. She was surprised he hadn't been cast as some elf in The Lord of the Rings. Hell, he could have joined in her production of A Midsummer Night's Dream. She suddenly remembered the funny looking reporter, Smee, asking her if she'd ever consider working with Jones in the future.

...Yeah, as cute as his ears were, that was not happening.

Even from the couch in her house, she could feel the tension in the band. Jones gripped the microphone in his hand as if it'd fly away from his hand at any minute, veins clearly visible straining in his forearms, and she wished with all her might he'd follow her advice and just let it all go.

And, surprisingly, so he did.

Henry whooped and sang along to the lyrics, grinning along as he swung from one side to the other on the couch. She smiled, seeing how the five men rocked out their song - lyrics flowing, solos heaving and peaking, whispered bridges in between chorus. She noticed how Jones was now beaming at the crowd and his friends, his expression no longer strained or concerned.

He looked happy. And she felt strangely proud of him in that moment.

When they were finished, they all waved at the now frenzied audience - no wonder after that wave of hot-men-power had been unleashed upon them from the stage - and, even when the camera span to the host, she could see on the far side how the five got up and had a group hug in the stage, guitars and bass still slung over shoulders and drumsticks in hands.

Emma felt her eyes tear up for a second at the scene in the screen, moved by the group's actions. They really were a family, anyone with eyes could see that. And she now understood why Jones had been more than ready to agree to anything that may solve and save their band's future. Gulping to ease her choked-up throat, she shoved Henry on his shoulder softly. "Hey, big guy. Time to go to bed."

She thought he was going to fight her a bit more, but he just rose to his feet and kissed her cheek, murmuring a quiet "good night, mom" and leaving to his bedroom, humming happily to himself the song they had just heard. She was speechless- how come he had been such a pain in the ass to stay and watch the band and now he just left without a word about the interview?

Oh, right. He didn't know they were interviewing him, did he? That hadn't been announced in the ad. Settling more comfortably in her corner of the couch and fixing the blanket around her, she waited for him to arrive to the host's side.

There he was.

She wanted once again to roll her eyes at his no-shaving politics, though for the rest, he had cleaned up nicely enough. He radiated charm as he swaggered to his place, shaking the host's hand - George, was it? - vigorously and grinning from ear to ear at the catcalls and whistles sent his way from the audience, even blowing kisses back at them and winking. TJB.

Typical Jones behavior.

"So, Killian - nice to see you guys back!"

"Thank you George, it's good to be back. Definitely," he said, fixing his tie over the shirt he was wearing. George nodded and asked, "how long since you have been back from tour?"

He stopped to think for a moment. "Our last concert was in Toronto I believe, and it was maybe seven months ago."

"Was it better than the last one? I remember you telling us how crazy the first one had been for you! And what stories you told us."

A hint of mischief in his voice, he let out a peal of laughter. "Oh, it was definitely wilder. You don't even wanna know."

"Come on, anything..?", George insisted. He desisted, though.

"My rep would skin me alive, mate. My lips are sealed. Another time, I swear."

"Okay, I'll let that go. And what are the plans for the band now?"

"Well, we are preparing some stuff - soon we'll start writing and composing, though we've been tinkering for a while, nothing settled but... something's something I guess." Emma was surprised to hear about that, and was extremely glad to learn they were actually going back to record and compose soon. She could see he was excited about it.

"And what is this something-something I hear about you and some pretty blondie lady, huh?" George suddenly held up a card with a photo of her gracing the screen.

She wanted the ground to swallow her, even now, when she was alone in her fucking living room. Oh, God. It was worse than she had expected.

He smirked, swinging his body to properly look at the pic, and joked with the audience, now gone completely batshit crazy, shrugging his shoulders in a 'who is this girl?' gesture.

She almost believed him.

He turned back to George, eyes sweeping the picture. "Where did you get this pic? Poor girl, I'll have to tell her you've been stalking her web."

"She should be honored I did!" They both laughed heartily. Creepy joke. Creepy guy. Emma was not amused. _At all_. "Wait - I have more!"

_What?!_

"What?" He was promptly given a couple of pictures more, one of the last premiere she had assisted, and another one a still of her new movie with Graham. He held up the first one, where she was posing for the paps in the carpet leading to the theater, a red, long, vaporous dress trailing behind her. He showed it to the public, waving his arm in front of it proudly. "I should ask her to wear this to our dates, shouldn't I?"

"I AM GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU I SWEAR," she nearly screamed at the TV. Jesus fucking Christ, this bastard. She didn't recall him complaining about her choice - well, Ruby's - of clothes for the date. Ugh.

George had to calm down the reaction from the crowd now before going back to his probing. "And tell me - you've never dated an actress before, have you? What are you going to do when you see her kissing other guys in her movies? Gonna give them some lectures before shooting starts?"

This George was some serious asshole. Just saying.

He made an indifferent gesture, as if slapping a fly away. "Nah. Graham is a great friend of mine, he's the best, and anyways - I met her long after she was done filming, so, technically speaking, she was off the hook." Laughter erupted in the audience. "As for future possible costars, well - as long as I know I have the real thing when she comes back home, they can do their own."

Had he said when she comes back _home_?

"It sounds like you are a keeper, Killian." George commented, studying him intently. Jones gave him a surprised face, eyes wide and mouth agape.

"Nah, I'm a seeker. George, please stop throwing Quidditch terms around, not everybody gets Potter references as you and I do."

"OH MY GOD." she nearly fell off the couch in hysterics. How. Had. He. Done. THAT. She even missed the last lines exchanged between them as the show came to an end while she laid there cracking up. Jesus. What had been _that_? He was off the rocker, that was for sure.

But hell, hadn't it been funny.

Shaking her head, still chuckling at the idiotic stunt Jones had pulled, she straightened the wrinkles from the couch and fixed the blanket. She moved to the kitchen then, spending a couple of minutes putting things out for the next day. Just as she came back to her room, she saw the screen on her phone glowing.

She knew who it was before she even opened the text.

_Four._

_**Four what?**_

_One for the other day. Three for that laugh. I know you did._

* * *

_**Hiiii wonderful people of the internet and outernet and beyond space! Or should I say straight on til morning? (FEEELS I'LL JUST SHUT UP)**_

_**Sorry for the delay, as I said, I'm on Easter break and I didn't even know if I'd be able to have this ready until later next week so BE GRATEFUL. Blood and tears were shed in this chapter. **_

_**Nah, there weren't. They were because of Colin's stupid face, but that's another story (look, I am Forrest Gump too!)**_

_**Anyway, hope you have all liked it! If you guys wanna, leave a review. And chocolate. Or a freaking OUAT episode even though the hiatus is being stupidly kind to us, who are we kidding... **_

_**Love you all! *besis***_

_**PD: Maroon 5. Loads of Maroon 5. Runaway, Last Chance, No Curtain Call, Stutter, Can't Stop... ugh. Massive Adam feels. I am stupid and masochist. **_


	16. Chapter 16: Music

**_Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or Once Upon A Time - the trolls Edward Kitsis and Adam Horowitz do. If I did, I'd make them canon faster than lighting. _**

**_Preach, shipmates._**

* * *

_Clap, clap. _"Alright, once more from the beginning, boys."

They'd been rehearsing in the studio the whole morning, and Killian could see how his mates were ready to hurl a guitar to his head pretty soon, but he felt completely driven. It may had been the coffees he had hurriedly gulped down earlier at Granny's, but even without the caffeine coursing through his veins, he still felt like they had to repeat it again, again, again. Until there was no room for any mistake.

Jefferson called from the drums, hand moving stray pieces of hair from his now sweaty forehead. "How long until we leave for rehearsals in _Trobadour_?"

"An hour; Leroy is picking us up here and moving all the stuff," August answered.

"Awesome." Leroy, as little as he could be, was always ready to give a hand and loaded along with them and some of his colleagues whenever they had gigs - and even on tour, sometimes - to move the equipment and heavy stuff they needed to perform. Not that today's concert compared to others' they had given, as this was in a club a bit more intimate, not the usual stadium with all its paraphernalia and set designed when there were thousands of people coming or for some kind of Award Shows they'd been asked to play in.

Not that Killian was ready for one of those at the moment. The thought itself made him positively nauseous.

"What's with you, bro?" Victor asked him, probably worried about the disgruntled face he had just displayed. He made a point not to look back at him, focusing in tuning correctly his guitar. "I just want everything to go perfect."

August slid his finger over the keys in a soft glissando, shaking his head in amazement. "Killian, I never thought I'd say this but it's good to see you being a workaholic for once."

That caught his attention. "Me? A workaholic?" That was news - he was usually the lazy ass of the clique. Not that he'd ever complained about it. He saw from the corner of his eye how his friend nodded back at him eagerly, counting down on his fingers.

"Well, you're giving us hell here so every tiny detail is perfect for today, as you were before the other night at George's show. You were pretty out of it that morning."

He paused his meddling with the guitar and stared in front of him, not really seeing anything. "Have you boys considered that if it had been a disaster - or today, for that matter - I'd be the one to blame?"

There was a pause in which all of them mulled his words. "You know that's not true," Philip piped in as he came back with a bottle of water in his hand, passing it to Victor in his way to his place, frowning deeply.

This poor lad, he always thought the best of everybody.

"Gold would."

Philip shook his head vehemently. "No one would. But anyways - we were good."

"Hell, we were more than good. We were epic!" Victor added, grinning like a fool.

"Legen - wait for it - dary," Jefferson intervened with a laugh. Killian pursed his lips - this guy watched too much TV. Though he couldn't deny Barney Stinson was something of a hero for all of them, and any male who didn't admit it was outrageously lying.

Philip punched him lightly in the arm. "Come on, Killian. Stop worrying."

"I'm not worried, I'm just - I'm cool now. I don't want to ruin anything. Not anymore." He sighed, knowing what the consequences would be if he screwed up again. After the high of the other day had faded away, a crippling fear of rejection and failure came over him. What if he didn't live up to their expectations? What if it didn't work anymore? What if he had lost it?

Then, Emma's words came back to him, and he was irrationally calmer. Thus the continued rehearsals and obsessive control over their set and perfectionist behavior. Knowing that it was in his hand to turn everything around, that he had his friends' support behind him and they could definitely get past this soothed him in a way he couldn't begin to grasp - and not just to regain their former 'glory' or level of success, mind you. Not at all. He wanted to have fun, to write, to play, to sing. To feel alive. And for that, he needed music, as Emma had wisely told him.

And, of course, they had to work like motherfuckers.

Philip's voice came back then. "See, we've been practicing nonstop these last days: the set list is brilliant, we're at the top of our playing game, why deny it; and you are doing awesome in your singing. So: stop. Worrying," he finished, clipping his last words like he wanted to get them past his skull.

"Yeah, Jones. You'll get wrinkles," Victor snorted from his right, laughter echoing from his other mates. "What will Emma say if you show up with wrinkles, man?"

He threw his hands up in the air, exasperated. "Why does Swan has to turn up in every conversation?"

Jefferson's teasing voice answered him in between light rhythms with his brand new drumsticks - seeing as he needed pretty much five pairs of them every time they performed, he was _that_ wild. "Oh, considering she was one of the highlights during the interview, it is pretty easy to guess she'll be in 80% of our conversations..."

"Dude, George was so onto it. All those pictures... Poor Emma," August agreed, a pensive look on his face. Killian didn't know why, but he felt the need to defend himself, as if it was his fault that douche had dragged her into the conversation.

"She knew what she was walking into."

August seemed to know what he was thinking and was fast to placate him. "I know, but - she looks rather protective of her private life, doesn't she? Even if she still maintains it, it must be hard to suddenly see that, you know?"

He sighed. Of course he did. Though it didn't make it any easier, seeing as he had no power to stop it or help at all. "I know."

There was a pregnant pause after that in which each one of them checked their babies - as they called their instruments, of course; some of them even had proper names, - awkwardly waiting for someone to break the silence. It was Jefferson who did, surprisingly, seeing as he was the one who usually preferred the quiet.

"She's coming later, right?"

Before he could answer, Victor declared, "Ruby said they were coming."

He examined his friend with a cocked eyebrow, quite not ready to let this conversation off the table. This infatuation of his was extremely amusing to him. "You seem awfully friendly with Red Lips yourself, Whale."

He was more than thrilled to see how his eyes widened a bit, and tried to cover it up by shrugging in a blasé manner and leering at him. "What can I say - no one can resist me, not even hot brunettes like her."

He shook his head but decided to let it go. There'd be plenty of time to tease his friend about it - and her, of course, as he had duly noted how she was more than happy about his friend's advances. Before he could further comment on it, August interrupted them.

"Are only her and Emma coming or is Emma's family too?"

"I've no clue." He turned to Victor again, in case he knew anything, as he was so fantastically informed. He didn't disappoint.

"Ruby mentioned David couldn't make it, so it'd be '_girls night_'."

A collective _ohhh _filled the studio, and they all exchanged amused glances. Girls night. Huh. Those sounded fun alright - especially to a bunch of guys, as they had experienced in their long career performing from club to club and running into every kind of group of disinhibited females possible.

"Promising," Jefferson laughed, a twinkle in his eye.

Killian refrained from saying anything - after all, it wasn't as if he would be getting any, seeing as one of the group was his girlfriend-for-all-purposes, her best friend was getting married with her brother and her other friend was putty in his mate's hands. Though he knew that what these 'girls nights out' mostly implied were letting go and being ridiculous and feeling young.

And that, he would like to see in these girls' case, why lie about it.

But first things first: clapping his hands again, he got the boys' attention once again and addressed them loudly. "Let's talk work, lads. New life, new album. Any ideas?"

They all stared at him, a bit taken aback by his proposition - and sudden devotion for this let's-work-bitches mode he was running lately, he guessed. He couldn't blame them.

"Ideas for what?," Philip frowned, disconcerted. Killian made his way to a table propped up to one of the walls where they left their phones - now silenced, of course, or they wouldn't get any work done - and other items, and sat himself on it, facing all four of them. He took a notepad in his hand, waving it in front of him.

"Even if you crowned me chief of the songwriting process, I'd love hearing your ideas and input, you know."

"Oh."  
Victor lifted his arm eagerly, like a kid who knew the answer would do in high school. "I firmly insist in a song called _'Red Lips'_."

"Sure you do," he laughed, along with the rest. Oh, God. He was so screwed. Before his mate could get started on the other qualities they should probably praise extensively in his dream song, he continued probing. "What about ideas for the songs, or the album itself? Or names?"

Jefferson hit the cymbal so they'd all turn to him. "I for one will be sorely disappointed if there's nothing about a deal or a contract in there."

They all chuckled at the idea - though Killian's mind started playing with his friend's words, a possibility beginning to take form inside his head... what if...

"Maybe we could have one with something about being a puppet under someone's instructions? What do you think?" he asked, pulling a pen from his jeans pocket and looking at them under his lashes, ready to write it down if they gave the green light.

"That's actually a really great idea. Very Pinocchio-like," August conceded, a hand scratching his scruff lightly and smiling at him. Killian returned a grin of his own: he knew when they were on the same page for the songwriting. They worked closer for that stage of preparation of the album, and he was tremendously grateful for him when he felt like everything he was writing or composing was fruitless, as he could find the tiniest detail or line and turn it into something inspiring, full of meaning.

"Look at us, mixing all kind of fairytales characters in our songs," Victor commented playfully.

Huh. Wait...

"Hey, hold on a sec - it'd be cool if we could maybe, I don't know, link songs with the fairytales we grew up with. We are the Lost Boys, for fuck's sake. Why haven't we thought about this earlier?" he wondered aloud. Oh God. Ideas were assaulting his brain, everything was coming together and he could see it, maybe if they just...

Oh, fuck. This was awesome. When something suddenly blazes inside of you and it's _there_ and you feel alive and wonder how you've never felt so sure about anything in your life ever before?

Philip's eyes were wide as he stammered, "all of them?"

He jumped from the table where he had been propped up on and paced along the room, hands shaking violently in front of him as he tried to put his ideas in order. "It doesn't have to be all of them per se. But it'd be a cool project, wouldn't it? I mean - the songs don't have to talk about the story itself - no Hansel and Gretel, Beauty and the Beast, - but, you know, maybe we could see the story we wanna talk about in the song and then we can discuss which character or fairytale it relates to best. The title of the song or the lyrics could hide the reference in it, so we'd have all this theme going for the entire album, but letting each single delve into its own story to tell and feelings to explore." He lifted his gaze to check their reactions - to see if this was a total mess he had just come up with due to his restlessness over these past over-workload days or an actual get go for the new album.

He crossed his fingers behind his back.

Jefferson shook his head, amazed. "That's a freaking awesome idea. I love it!"

"You're a genius." August declared, and Philip thumped him in the back, beaming at him.

"Jones is _back,_ bitches!" Victor yelled, and laughter erupted in the studio, the sound echoing along with the notes their instruments voiced in harmony with their mirth in that moment, eclipsing anything out of their haven, their home.

* * *

After the rehearsal in the auditorium was done - which had gone surprisingly smooth, considering they always had some last-minute surprise involving misplaced equipment, broken mics or even some kind of animal hidden inside an amp once, - they all came back to lounge in the dressing room they had been assigned, waiting for the stage manager to start cueing people around when the show were about to start. Killian had checked out for a bit the opening act who were playing right before them while he munched some fries with Jefferson, commenting their possibilities and style, both of them resembling a pair of old ladies gossiping in front of some lame TV show.

They had agreed in them looking promising, though they had vetoed those haircuts. Nuh-uh.

As they roamed the room nervously, playing video games, eating some kind of delicious leftover Aurora had brought for them, or even attempting to read a book (seriously, August? _Seriously_?), Killian was shortly lost in memories of their first performances - when no one even knew who they were, when not even themselves were sure where this adventure of theirs would take them. How they hadn't had any dressing room to get ready in or relax prior the gig - or, in the slim chance that they had had, they had to share it with other opening acts or entourages and they'd all cramp out the tiny space they had left in the little time remaining before the show; the first walks from the private area set to stage, all shaking limbs and blurry vision in their excitement to their very first encounters with the crowd.

The sudden realization that, at one point, everything had been worth it.

How, when they had started skyrocketing and fame was not just a word in magazines out of their reach, all those dynamics started changing and all they knew for months were the impromptu parties organized in those same back stages, now their names stated proudly in the doors - how people whom Killian and their friends hadn't seen in years, colleagues from works they'd had, acquaintances, friends in the cities they were playing in and all kind of groupies showed up to have a taste of what their life had become. The frenzy, the haze, the hysteria.

Now it looked like those days were long forgotten, - or they were not in that loop anymore. Or it was just not one of those days, he mused, looking around himself as he distractedly strummed his guitar. It was then when he was suddenly brought out of his thoughts by the door banging open and Belle barred in accompanied by Gold, of course - though not only them. Red Lips was hot on her heels, with a familiar-looking blonde on one arm and Swan being dragged by her other hand, not really giving her any choice on the matter of where to set her feet.

Where was her other friend? Mary Margaret?

Red Lips beamed at them, as if they were all reunited there just for the sole purpose of seeing her. "Hey everyone!"

"Ruby!" Victor got to his feet from the couch, joystick now abandoned, and walked hurriedly to greet the newcomers, grinning like a fool. What a bloody _sap_. "You got any problems to get here?"

The girl shook her head, smiling broadly at him and waving to the hall they had just come from. "Nah, your funny friend - Leroy was it? - led us through the secured area so we didn't have any problem. It looks like a mad house out there - everybody is so excited to see you guys!"

Killian gulped when he heard that, his palms starting to get a bit sweaty. That wasn't helping his nerves. He saw how Victor turned to Ruby's blonde friend and squinted his eyes at her, until a wave of recognition stole his features, pointing at her triumphantly. "Oh, I know you! Ella, was it?"

The girl nodded, flushing a bit and laughing. "Yeah! You remember me!"

"Of course they do - you've been helping me for their costume design for years!" Belle had left Gold talking to August and Jefferson and joined the little clique, putting an arm around the girl's thin shoulders. Oh, right - Killian in fact _knew_ this girl. The shoe designer whom Belle always asked for help whenever they needed wardrobe consultant advice issues or whatever. He recalled it had been her who had delivered them the tuxedos for the Gala.

Small world, indeed.

"And you know these two?" Victor asked, eyebrows rising in surprise as he signaled with his head towards Red Lips and Swan, who was examining her surroundings curiously, not really paying attention to their friends' conversation. He studied her from the corner of his eye, taking notice of her Ramones t-shirt and ripped tight jeans ensemble.

As much as he had boasted in that interview about him asking Swan to wear one of those fancy dresses she wore for premieres and such for their future dates, he'd much rather have her like this.

Though he kind of missed the hat.

The Ella girl was explaining Victor right then how he had come to meet the girls, shooting an affectionate look towards them and pinching Ruby's arm. "We met in college years ago. We all went together."

"You three?" Killian asked, cocking an eyebrow and trying to picture those three in the same dorm, getting in all kind of havoc. Just with Red Lips, it was bound to have been fun. Add Swan to the mixture and this poor girl looked like she had had the time of her life there.

Swan nodded, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips - probably recalling some of those wild nights she had talked about during the date. He still chuckled remembering the shots and traffic cone incident she had shared with him. "And Mary Margaret. She couldn't come - has a thing tomorrow morning, and so did David." At that, Killian couldn't suppress a smirk, leering at her.

"Pity. It'd have been fun to tease your brother a bit."

Hand on her hips, she narrowed her eyes at him, not an ounce of humor in her expression. "Or he could have just punched you in the face for that interview."

_Oh, there we go._

"Aw, come on, I behaved!" he exclaimed, half annoyed and half amused at her. He knew she would whine about it, but what else could have he done about it? It wasn't as if he had asked George - what a douche, now that he thought of it - to start taking out pictures of her and bombarding him with questions about their liaison.

Though he had guessed that the dress comment would make her furious. No regrets.

She crossed her arms over her chest - for the love of God, didn't she know that was asking for a guy to look at her boobs or what?! - and, after a pause, grumbled under her breath, "I guess it could have been much worse."

Before he could command her for her wise words for once in their short acquaintance, another figure came to stand beside her. "Believe me - it really could." She turned to her, a hand up in greeting and grinning excitedly at the blonde. "Hi, I'm Aurora."

She smiled warmly back at her. See Swan? It's not that hard to smile, now, is it? You look beautiful when you smile.

Woah. _Beautiful?_

"Nice to meet you. I'm Emma."

Philip followed his girlfriend's steps and put his arm around her waist, embracing her lightly and promptly told Emma, "she's been dying to meet you since the news broke. I'm pretty sure she believes you're going to help her have a girls front now that you'll be hanging around whenever we're giving her too much trouble. Belle is too much on our side, and she needs backup."

Aurora narrowed her eyes, making a face at him. As much as she liked to look intimidating, Killian couldn't help but imagine some kind of cute animal trying to appear fierce. Like Simba attempting to roar when he was little in _The Lion King. _

Oh God. _The Lion King_. So good.

Sometimes Killian wondered what was wrong with his train of thoughts procession, to be honest... Yeah, back to Aurora not being amused at Philip's comment. She turned vehement eyes to Emma, grasping her hand. "Am not. Emma, please, as happy as I am for Killian - and for you, of course - I don't recommend being around them for long periods of time. They'll drive you insane and you'll end up reconsidering moving somewhere far away from here, far enough from them to never find you again. Unless you decide to, you know, join me. Maybe we could, I don't know, escape and start our own group. We're the best out of all of these idiots. The same goes for your friends."

Killian saw how Emma fought an entertained smiled and finally let out a laugh, patting the girl's hand. "Oh, I like you already." The instant camaraderie between the two girls was interrupted by the bundle of nerves that was Red Lips, coming behind them and gasping, excited at the prospect of making new girlfriends, he guessed. "Hey, you're Philip's girlfriend, right? Hi, I'm Ruby, this is Ella."

New introductions round in tow, Killian approached Swan and waited until she acknowledged his presence beside her, as much as she was trying to ignore him. Such a stubborn lass. She cocked an eyebrow at him, tapping her boot-clad feet on the floor expectantly. He made a point to check her out from head to toe, earning a huff from her. "So - how are you liking the groupie routine, Swan?"

Hands in pockets, she looked around her, examining everything briefly with an unimpressed expression on her face. "A bit disappointing, to be honest. I expected something much more...wild? Where is the underground party? Sex, drugs and rock and roll?"

She did _not_.

"You really _are_ asking for me to tell you that the sex is welcome whenever you want, love - though right here would be a bit exposé, if you ask me, but if that's what you're into..."

She let her face fall on her palm loudly as soon as he started talking, a quiet groan escaping her lips. It was so easy to rile her up, Jesus. "...why. Just - _why_."

He went on as if she hadn't said anything in a light tone, examining his nails rudely. "As for the drugs, I knew you'd be around here soon - they're all hidden."

"Why doesn't that surprise me. You look like you'd get hooked on anything in no time," she commented dryly, scrunching up her nose. He turned to her again, this time coming closer to her so his lips were right beside her ear, catching a sniff of her perfume in the process. He inhaled deeply before adding in barely a whisper, "well, you're much more predictable on that front, Swan. Chocolate, right?"

He saw her eyes, a mixture of confusion and curiosity mingling in those green pools, and right as her lips were about to speak back, one of Leroy's friends showed up at the door and called for their attention, halting whatever she may had been about to say. "Boys - you're next. You all know the drill: make sure to take the secured path as to not encounter any crazy fans around - it's all marked on the walls, you can't miss it. Be careful with the roadies and the equipments, we don't want any accidents. Now, if you have any problem, audio people are on the front - they'll make sure to fix anything if there are any issues, or they'll send for stage manager. We'll be all spread through the arena just in case - we know even when rehearsals have been peachy, we can never be too sure. Any questions?" he finished, letting a loud breath. They all nodded eagerly.

"Nope. Got it," August lifted his thumbs to the poor guy, who looked like he needed a vacation, and maybe a bigger paycheck. He sighed but managed to send a smile in their direction before running out again to whenever he had to go then. "See you out there in five then. Break a leg!"

The noise level increasing in the room and sudden movement around them, he turned around, ready to sling his guitar over his shoulder, a momentary panic freezing him in place until he realized he had been carrying it with him since they had gotten there. Emma pursed her lips at him, noticing his sudden distress, but, surprisingly, didn't say a word about it. "At least today you seem to be keeping your shit together. Progress," she said.

He looked at her under his lashes while he double checked the tuning on his guitar. "Yeah. Thank you for that. It wasn't my greatest moment." Finally pleased with his work, he remembered she was going to watch him. Now. Playing. Live. Sweeping his hands on the back of his jeans, he asked, "you girls will be on the side stage, right?"

She nodded, an excited glint in her eyes. "Yeah, Gold told us we could watch from there with Belle and Aurora if we wanted."

"Will you try to make me nervous?" he asked, though his mind was calling his bluff traitorously - it wasn't a matter if she would try or not; it was more like he'd feel nervous by her presence per se. She seemed caught by surprise by the question, furrowing her brow. "How would I do that?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Booing. Making faces." He wiggled his eyebrows at her while his eyes dropped to her chest. "Flashing me."

"For the love of God..." she muttered.

Victor's booming voice brought them out of their conversation. "Boys - pre concert ritual?" He winked at Emma's confused expression as he joined the rest of the band in the middle of the room, where they all settled in a circle, snickering to themselves at the dorkiest routine they had _ever_ come up with in their lives. Just before they started, he saw Victor ready to say something but Jefferson cut him in time, already guessing his mate's idea.

"Man, don't screw it up again - no Buzzlightyear motto this time!" Grinning like a fool, he threw his arms before him, one wrist on top of the other, at the surprised glances of the girls standing behind them. "It's morphing time!"

"Mastodon!"

"Pterodactyle!"

"Triceratops!"

"Saber-Toothed Tiger!"

"Tyrannosaurus!"

"POWER RANGERS!" they screamed in unison, ten hands joined together in the center. Killian still could remember when they had come up with the geekiest habit they performed whenever they had a gig. When Gold had witnessed it for the first time, he had scowled and grumbled something about not only having to put up with those bloody aliens at home with Baelfire - now his band too.

That had settled it for them. It did justice to their name, after all. It was a game, really: a kid's game.

Meaning it was absolutely perfect for them.

Guffaws and whoops breaking out around them, they finally dissolved the circle, still laughing and on higher spirits to go on with the show they had to keep up. He spied Emma shaking her head at their antics, joining the girls who were snickering - no doubt about their inane childish behavior - with Belle and Aurora. Once she was about to follow her friends to their place before the show, he called out to her. "What? No good luck kiss, Swan?"

"Apparently you don't need it, Cap." she answered, one eyebrow quirked upwards and hips swaying as she walked out of the room, Red Lips dragging her behind the group, leaving him with the rest of the band and feeling like maybe he wouldn't have minded at all.

* * *

It had been fucking amazing.

One of the best concerts in a really long time.

Killian couldn't remember the last time he had felt so at ease, so free - so happy to be up on stage, voice raw and full of life, the thunderstorm that was the crowd responding so intensely at them - even in a moderately medium-sized club. Maybe this was what he had needed all along - what he hadn't known he had been missing since everything had fallen apart around him. The funny thing was that it had always been there, yet he had been too blind and proud to see and reach for it, letting it comfort him.

It had been one of those wild, blistering experiences where none of them was left out, five members beating at the same rhythm, and every soul in the place rocking out along with them. He had made sure to entertain the audience - he _did_ like to stop in between songs, add some quips here and there, present the band sharing excruciatingly embarrassing and funny details, asking for the crowd to sing along with them or finish lyrics for him. He had jumped, laughed, been thrown a couple of bras - which he had carefully placed on the mic stand, not wanting to lose them or be disrespectful; he knew those were _not_ cheap - and even jumped for a moment to the space between the stage and the crowd to take one of the banners a girl was waving at them like a maniac so he could hold it up while he sang when he came back up. He had found it too brave and funny not to, as she had written in black bold letters _"I AM YOUR GROUPIE"_ and her phone number underneath.

That one had been quite good.

He had been a bit spaced out for a couple of moments, though.

Once, through the half of the show he thought he saw a mane of black, long curls framing a pale face in the mass of people beneath them, rendering him speechless and nearly making him loose his footing in the middle of the song, earning him a worried glance from Philip at his right. When he turned his gaze again towards the spot where he had sworn he had seen her, he discovered it was just a pretty curly-haired brunette. A fan. Nothing less, and nothing more. Feeling such relief at the realization, he winked at her and threw in her direction the glasses he had been wearing for that song in question, waving his hands enthusiastically and grinning when he saw her reaching for it, tears in her eyes and screams falling from her lips in joy.

The second time it had been Emma's fault, of course.

Not because she had done something to provoke him, as he had warned her - though he wouldn't have minded at all if she _did_ flash him, he laughed to himself. At least, not intentionally. It had been when he saw Victor moving headed to the left side stage that his attention was brought back there, towards the girls hiding in there enjoying the show - and he had been witness of a side of Emma Swan he had never imagined he would be privy of. Carefree, head thrown back laughing as Victor played on his knees dramatically in front of them, dancing along with her friends, eyes closed as she gave a spin around herself while her friend held her hand.

It had been a vision to see.

Hanging out in the dressing room now, all cheers, shrieks, hugs, thumps on the back and bottles of water being thrown around to ease dry throats and dehydration, he was approached by Gold - who stuck out as a sore thumb in there in his crisp suit, though nobody dared to mention it, of course. In fact, even if he did, Killian was sure he would never be able to picture the man in anything else apart from those.

"Jones - you're going to the post party, aren't you?"

Killian looked around him, contemplating his answer. "If we are all going, yes, of course."

Gold nodded appreciatively, his eyes wandering towards his mates too. "Indeed they are, you all deserve it - that has been an incredible show, and August and Jefferson have filled me in your idea about the album." He put a hand on his shoulder, a proud, little, tiny, minuscule smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You're doing a great job, kid."

"Thank you," he answered, voice barely a whisper and a bit choked up. Well, that was awkward; he hadn't really been expecting a heart-to-heart with his manager of all people after the show. Gold let his hand drop and continued in his usual professional manner, as if nothing had happened. "Anyway, I've one more favor to ask of you tonight - don't worry, it'll be really nothing at all, I swear. We know there are paps outside right now, waiting to take pics with all of you lot - and I believe the fans have informed everyone already about Miss Swan's presence here tonight." He paused for a bit, examining him closely, gauging his reaction. Killian didn't give anything with his face, so he went on. "So, my request is that you two wait here for a bit and leave, both of you alone, after the rest, so there is no mistake that she has been indeed here watching you perform and that you two assist to the celebration party together."

Huh. Well, that didn't sound so bad, really - it wasn't like they were punished in here forever. Just - delayed for a bit, he guessed. The only thing bumming him out was that he'd miss how Jefferson got pissed, as he always did as soon as they were done with a concert. Those were always epic.

Turning back to the manager, he nodded. "Yeah, okay. No problem."

"Great. I'll arrange the cars - Leroy and Doc will take everybody to _Wonderland_ and then he'll pick you and Miss Swan so you can join them," he explained.

"Perfect."

"Good. See you soon, Jones - we'll talk about the album ideas in these future days." His manager saluted him and, hand in cane and hugging Belle to his side in his way to the door, they left - not after she blowed kisses and promises to the girls to call them and hang out soon together, as she had to come back that night to Baelfire. Killian rubbed his face, looking for Emma in the room - she was talking excitedly with August, and when he came to a halt in front of her, she actually smiled.

At _him_.

Well, he guessed that made five in the list.

Before he could explain to her what Gold had told him, she lifted up a hand, silencing him. "I know - they want us to hang back and then we'll be on our merry way together so the wolves get a glimpse of hot stuff leaving the building." He grinned at her, acknowledging her words.

"That's about it."

August chuckled beside them, taking his things with him and giving him a one-armed hug right before he left with the rest, already changed and picking up stuff ready to leave to their well-deserved fun night. "We'll see you there then - I'll try to control Jeff enough so you don't miss all the fun."

He beamed at him, rubbing his hands in anticipation. "Man, I'm excited."

"Me too. Take care of him, Emma," August commanded in his wake, smiling at them.

"Sure I will."

After Ruby promised several times that she'd text her in case they couldn't find them when they got to the club later, Killian found himself alone with Emma in the minutes earlier full of people dressing room, the silence heavy in the air around him - especially when images of her during the show continued to flash behind his eyelids. He had no idea what to say to her, and that had to be a first. Killian Jones was never speechless.

Yet, here he was, her sitting in the couch examining his guitar, and him standing behind, like a fucking idiot, waiting for poor Leroy to pick them up and bring them with the rest. How pathetic was he?

He noticed, surprised, that Emma was spying the instrument with a haunted expression on her face, slightly... scared, dare he say? He stood there, mesmerized, as she run her fingers lightly over the strings, not daring to pluck any or strum them. He found in himself the will to finally move and he cleared his throat. "You know, it's not gonna bite you."

She startled, jumping in her seat and distancing herself from it, as if it had burned her. She turned to him and shrugged, feigning ignorance. "I know. I just don't want to break it or something."

Eye rolling to himself, he commented, "I've seen girls being more careful around china. Come on, take it. I'll teach you."

"What?" Her eyebrows flew up to her hairline in shock. By response, he took her by the hand and picked the guitar with the other, giving it to her. She grasped it and held as far away from her body as she could, like it was a bomb about to detonate, - which amused him to no end. "Okay, blondie. First lesson: you have to hold it; take it and try to feel comfortable with it. Is it easy to play notes and chords on it?"

"I wouldn't know, but yeah, I guess it's cool?" God, she looked afraid alright.

He nodded, examining her. "Awesome. Now - some people take to melody and riffs first, others prefer strumming chords. As this will be like, the briefest guitar lesson you'll ever get in your life, and I can guess you have no idea about musical theory at all, I'll ask you - do you want to play anything in particular? Or do you want me to go all Froilain Maria on you?"

She lifted her eyes to his, mouth parted in surprise and voice full of wonder. "Did you just make a _The Sound of Music_ reference?"

He felt instantly on edge - and extremely defensive. "What? I loved that movie! That's how I got to learn the notes, I'll have you know. My mum used to sing it to me."

At the mention of his mother, she seemed to cower, her face dropping and biting her lip nervously; and he immediately regretted saying anything. He was more than grateful when she decided to break the silence as she spoke again. "It's okay, some notes if you want to?"

He met her gaze with a winning grin. "Okay. We'll go with the Froilain Maria approach then. _ D_."

She shot him a panicked look, and he couldn't help but smile at her uneasiness. "What's that?"

"Remember when they're going around Vienna and she's teaching the kids the notes?" He saw her nod and answer him in a rush. "Sol Do La Fa Mi Do Re Sol Do La Ti Do Re Do."

"Exactly." He stared at her, dumbfounded. "Woah Swan, I hadn't pegged you as the tune freak. Now," he came to stand behind her, putting both of his hands over hers, guiding her left one to properly settle her fingers over the chords on the neck and explaining for the next minutes which one of them was the one she was holding and plucking with the right one, trying not to laugh at her frustration when one of the fingers stopped holding pressure over it and_ 'it didn't sound right, dammit!'_. He left out the instructions concerning the Caged System, as they were playing chords requiring holding down more than one string with a single finger, opting to help her when the Fa came.

It was right then when he came to an abrupt halt, conscious of her back pressed to his chest, her entire length in close contact with him, his fingers caressing hers and his nose breathing right to her ear. Feeling light headed, his next instruction came out in a breathless voice, and it was her turn to straighten her spine, her hands tensing under his so mightily, he became slightly worried about his guitar's sake. Both frozen, her caged in his arms, Killian tilted his head imperceptibly, attempting to put some distance between them - though he got the exact opposite reaction, as his cheek pressed agains her ear and her hands tensed even more under his, holding him in place again. He dropped his face, not fighting anymore and letting his nose run along the smooth skin of her neck; he was so close he could feel the quickening of her pulse behind her ear, curls tickling his face in his light strokes. As much as she tried to appear unaffected - or just completely frozen, chords and notes completely forgotten now, - he felt how she inhaled deeply, her shoulders heaving and dropping slowly, until he let a puff of air roam over her skin and she gasped loudly. Her hands suddenly dropped from he guitar, and she jumped when the door opened with a bang and a red-cheeked Leroy showed, enthusiastically beckoning them to follow him out. "Hey, kids - it's time to go!" Probably noticing the tension in the room, reaching we-could-cut-it-with-a-knife-don't-mind-us levels, he paused and stared at them, worried. "Everything alright?"

He nodded, eyes frantically searching Emma's to check if she was feeling as freaked out as him. He found her roaming around the room, no doubt looking for her things so they could leave, trying to appear nonchalant - though he could see the slight trembling of her hands in her search.

"Yeah, yeah, everything's fine. We're leaving," he pinched the bridge of his noise and waved a hand at her. "Come on, sweetcakes - time to start another show."

She froze and huffed indignantly. It was fascinating how she could change from flustered girl in the arms of a guy to wrapped-in-sass woman not willing to take anyone's shit. "Sweetcakes? Really?"

"Oh, Swan - here you thought you'd be the only one giving me names. Come on," he said, holding out his hand. She stopped in front of him, nipping at her bottom lip worriedly and looking at it like it would bite him in any moment. "Swan." No response. He tried again. _"Emma_." At the sound of her name, her eyes sought his, alarmed, and he seized the distraction to grab her hand and drag her out of the room. "Let's go."

* * *

The celebration was in full swing when they got to _Wonderland_, as they could confirm as soon as they got there. Ruby had texted Emma explaining how they'd find them near one of the bars in one of the themed salons inside - each one of them named after different places in the fairytale the club was named after. His friends had chosen, funnily enough, _"The Rabbit Hole"_, and that's where Emma and he went as soon as Leroy dropped them at the door and the bouncers stamped both of their arms in case they wanted to go out and enter once again throughout the night.

When they reached the bar, Emma whirled once and finally caught someone's eye; she turned and motioned for him to follow her. The sea of unrelenting and dancing bodies surrounding them was making it quite difficult, so he set his hand on her hip as to not lose her in the tide of people lost to the alcohol haze and drop of the beat. He felt her hand, warm over his, and he expected her to slap it away from her, surely followed by some kind of scathing retort, - but she just kept it there, to his utter bemusement, guiding him closely behind her until they reached their destination and he could see his mates and the girls happily trying to prattle over the loud music. Aurora was the one to see them first and opened her arms happily, going to embrace Emma and therefore making him slip their joined hands. "You guys are here!"

Victor came up behind him. "How did it go?"

"The paps got us while we left. Swan here was more than tempted to flip them off but she relented in the end and played nice," he commented, eyes lingering on hers as she jutted out her chin proudly, cocking her hip to the side, all attitude. "What? I was just trying to stick to the rock n roll star cliché."

"Sure you were," he commented airily.

"Emma! Let's dance!" Red Lips was in full swing tonight. Oh joy. He would bet anything Victor was thrilled for that.

"Ruby, I just got here, let me at least ask for a drink first."

Ruby whirled around, took a glass and a straw and gave it to her. As her eyes moved, surprised, from the drink to her friend, the brunette lifted her hands. "I asked for it as soon as we got here so you wouldn't have to wait when you came."

Emma shook her head and pinched her friend's cheek affectionately. "You're the best." Victor slammed his now empty glass on the bar and cocked an eyebrow at Emma's, an amused glint in his eye. "A straw? Really?"

They both laughed, Emma taking another straw from behind her and setting it on her ear, bending the end so it looked like an improvised mic. "It's our thing. Look: you're not the only singer here, Jones."

Unable to hide his eye roll, he pushed her towards the dance floor along with Ruby. "Get out of here, Swan."

"That's what I intended to do. Don't miss me too much," she said over her shoulder as she left, arms already waving along with the music.

"I'll try my best."

Not long later, he was practically dragging Jefferson to one of the couches in the side of the room with August's help as Philip and Aurora tried not to fall to the floor in hysterics at their friend's drunken musings. Oh, Jeff - those shots hadn't been the best idea, really. Killian helped him sit on one of the cushions, and went to gulp the end of his rum - carrying a 28 year old drunk drummer wasn't piece of cake, that was for sure - when he suddenly realized he had forgotten it in the bar. He told August he'd be back in a minute whilst he fetched it, and he made his way towards the place where he recalled he had left it.

Unable to find it - surely someone had taken it under the impression it was theirs, or the waiter had removed it thinking he was done with it - he decided to ask for another one. While he waited, a strange feeling came upon him. A sudden, cold shiver ran down his spine, and he could practically hear the air crackling around him, and he _knew_.

_She_ was there.

If the girl in the concert had been a kind of sign so he'd be ready for the real encounter, he must say he had not been expecting it at all. Frozen in place, he finally could ask in an strangled voice his order to the waiter, - who must have thought he was out of it or sorely pissed, or both - and after paying for it, he debated wether to not move from the spot, waiting for her to leave or whatever the fuck she planned, or actually move his ass out of there.

Fate has a fun way to fuck you up, seeing as Killian didn't even get to choose: she showed up on the other side of the bar, bright and alive, her rich laugh echoing on his ears from afar. He gripped his hand around the glass, barely registering the whitening of his knuckles at the motion, his eyes not leaving hers for a second but praying to any deity up there she wouldn't see him, or help him God he'd be screwed. The tattoo on his arm tingled uncomfortably, as if tiny spiders were tracing the lines up and down conforming the design, the trapped bird that marred his skin not letting him forget what had transpired between the two of them.

Killian wondered for the thousandth time what would have happened. The what if. And he wondered too how fucked up was that someone would put himself through that hell in the first place, knowing that all the what ifs were no more than mere possibility, alternate universes not coming true, not ever. Not for her, and definitely not for him. He knew he was no angel, no perfect person; hell, he had made uncountable number of wrong choices in his life. He knew what people thought and said about him, and he knew his faults. He knew them better than anyone. But for once in his life, he admitted he wanted to be selfish. Was it fair that she got to move on and not him? Was it fair that he'd have to suffer and cower whenever he ran into her? Why could she be there, happy, unconcerned, going on with her life, when he was stuck in the aftermath of the disaster that had been the broken pieces of their relationship?

A glimpse of gold caught his eye, and he finally tore away his eyes from _her_ to see Emma dancing mere feet from him with Ruby and Ella, hair whipping around her like a halo. He remembered her words when he had been giving everybody shit about the performance, her earlier gasp when he had been pressed behind her. Her genuine smile at him. Her laugh while she danced during the show. Her eyes blazing when she first threw him the champagne. Her lips after their kiss.

Not knowing what he was even doing and abandoning his just purchased drink, he strode over to her, the music thrumming through his veins and nearly stumbling over some guy's feet. Finally getting to her, he grabbed her side roughly and cupped her cheek with his other hand, not giving her place to talk as he crushed his lips upon hers in a searing kiss.

He kissed her fiercely for a few moments, hardly giving her a chance to react, and in a hazy part of his brain he mused if she'd punch him for this, yelling at him for assault or something equally Swan-ish. Resigned, he stopped moving his lips against hers, stealing one last nip agains them and was about to back away from her form when he felt her arms uncoil and wrap around him, pulling him closer to her so that his body was aligned perfectly with his, like two pieces of a puzzle locking into place.

Heat radiated outwards from her body and into his skin. He felt lightheaded, - if it was from the few drinks he had had or because of Swan's intoxicating taste, he wouldn't know, not then, not ever. His hand cradling her neck while the other traced the contour of her jaw lightly, she suddenly parted from him so there was a brief space between them where their ragged breaths mingled together. Her voice came out in between pants, "what are you doing?"

He locked eyes with her, blue meeting green in a heated stare. "What you told me to, Swan. Letting go."

And then his mouth was crashing down once more, capturing hers in a devouring kiss that shot through his body like magic itself.

* * *

_**...*whistles innocently***_

_**That was interesting. Wasn't it? We got Aurora and Ella, girls out, concert, new album, and... major feels over guitar lessons and Wonderland. **_

_**And nerdy routines. (I'm sorry but I got consumed in childhood nostalgia yesterday while I talked with my sister and she mentioned how I used to be Kimberley when we played with my friends. Because she was kickass, let me tell you. - And don't get me started on The Sound of Music. UGH. Perfect movie is perfect.)**_

_**Share your theories, opinions, whatever you want if you wish to on the reviews section.**_

_**Btw - can't begin to thank you all for the overwhelming support this story is getting - I wish I could hug each one of you and feed you cookies and milkshakes 5evah. For realz. You're all made of pure awesomesauce.**_

_**Until next update, peeps! (or tumblr, ofc!)**_

_**PS: OneRepublic "Counting Stars" was my muse. Perfection. Let me die because eargasm. **_


	17. Chapter 17: Brand New Day

_**Disclaimer: None of this characters are mine. No Killian Jones, no Emma Swan, no Graham, no Ruby. Not even little Henry. Not even Grace. Nope. If they did, we'd all hang out and I'd probably spend my days staring at their prettiness and perfection. Sadly, they all are owned by Adam Horowitz and Edward Kitsis, along with OUAT. Bastards.**_

* * *

_What the fuck was she doing?_

She was barely aware of a little voice in the back of her brain screaming at her, warning her of her actions. But Emma was tired - tired of overthinking everything, of constantly putting up a front and hiding behind these walls she had erected around herself.

At least that's what she told herself in that moment.

Not ready to analyze what her body was so obviously enjoying, though, Emma let her instincts take control, slanting her mouth over his, a moan barely suppressed when she felt one of his hands slide down her neck and her arms torturously slow until it grazed her hip. He tangled his fingers in the belt loop of her jeans and yanked her roughly towards him, making her gasp. His kiss was at first brutal in its intensity, but it softened almost immediately as he ran the tip of his tongue along the inside of her lips, tracing them delicately. She could taste traces of the rum he had been drinking, as well as the chocolate bar he had been handed after the show in the backstage. He tasted bitter and sweet at the same time, and she was losing herself.

"_What you told me to, Swan. Letting go."_

His whispered words echoing in her ears, Emma paused for a moment, breaking away to look at him closely again, not sure what she'd find in his eyes when she did. His breath was coming in flustered gasps, cheeks slightly tinted red, and it was to her utmost surprise when he pressed his forehead to hers in the sweetest manner she had ever seen him act in since she had met him. Then, he bent down again, ready to capture her lips with his again, and she was entirely at his mercy once more.

It wasn't until seconds, minutes, eons - who knew, really - when she finally pulled back from him, hands gripping the lapels of the vest he was wearing over his t-shirt - why was he wearing a fucking sexy-as-hell vest, just _why_, this guy had to be kidding her, he was asking for the making-out attack - so there would be some kind of space between them. Emma felt her face flush when she came to her senses and reality crashed around her. She had been enthusiastically kissing her supposed-to-be boyfriend in the middle of a _very_ crowded club. She didn't know if there were cameras here - and, if there were, they would surely have a field day with this: it wasn't every day that she let herself be such a defender of PDA, after all. In fact, she doubted they had ever taken pictures of her out clubbing or at no-work-related parties and occasions. She guessed there was always a first time for everything, huh?

...But what if there weren't?

Why had she let him kiss her then, if not for the possibility of being caught by someone?

She paused her raging thoughts for a moment to take in the sight of a very dazed-looking Killian Jones - she felt, childishly, a fleeting moment of pride at that: _she_ had done that to him; _ha_! - and, her hands still on his chest, she dropped her gaze to the ground, not ready to face whatever may had been happening around them while they had been too busy entranced with each other.

That was an interesting way to put it, right?

She licked her lips, and alarm bells rang in her head when she saw from the corner of her eye how his eyes traced the movement. God, was he insatiable or what?

He probably was. She didn't want to imagine how he'd be if... NO. Emma, no. No, stop it. Bad girl. Not here. Shut up.

Feeling awkward as hell but still standing entirely too close to him, she finally let out a whispered "we need to stop". He slowly pried his hands off her, looking like a child who'd had his favorite toy taken away. She had to try really hard not to smile at his crestfallen expression. Emotions battling inside of her, she was not sure what to do or say at that - she knew they had to keep playing their part in there. Questions burned in her head - why had he kissed her in the first place? If this had been the plan since the beginning, why hadn't he told her before?

And why the fuck had he said that about letting go?

She opened her mouth to start her questioning when Jones' finger pressed against her lips, his head shaking at her imperceptibly. She sent him a confused look - she was _that_ puzzled, in any other circumstances she would surely had kneed him in the groin or started yelling at him right there - and waited for him to explain. Or something. Whatever.

Apparently he wasn't about to comply with her wishes, as he kept his hands firmly holding her against him and he dared to sway them to the rhythm of the song playing in the background. Was he dancing with her? No, actually scratch that - was he trying to _make _her dance with him? What was this guy's problem? She was about to plant her feet on the ground and make him look at her when he crushed her against him so that his face was right beside her head, his voice tinted with slight panic as he rushed words in her ear.

"I know, Swan, I know - I am a wanker, I should have told you, I had no right to do this, what the fuck was I thinking, you're going to make me pay for this." That summed it up pretty nicely, good boy. "But if you throw a tantrum - as I'm sure you're dying to - in here this will be all for nothing."

She gasped at him, outraged. "I was not going to throw a tantrum!" She could practically hear him rolling his eyes at her.

"Come on, I could see you itching to stomp your foot like a girl."

Oh, boy.

"You know, you're not helping my murdering instincts right now," she grumbled, her hands gripping his shoulders forcefully. "And I _am_ a girl."

His voice turned wondering at her words. "Well, I didn't know girls could kiss like _that_..."

He did _not_.

She mustered all the disdain she could in her answer, "you're disgusting."

He pulled back so he could properly look at her. And by look she really wanted to say _glare_. "Okay, no more complimenting you. Ever. You're an ungrateful wench, you know that?"

"Why should I be thrilled because you just assaulted me in the middle of this fucking dance floor?" Her nails digging in his skin roughly, she found a momentary pleasure when she noticed him wincing. He turned wide eyes at her again.

"Swan, act as scandalized as you want, I don't blame you - but please, don't lie to yourself. You liked it and you know it. And you'd be happy to have another go, I'd bet."

The nerve of this guy. "Keep dreaming, Jones."

"Oh, I will," he smirked. Oh, how she wanted to slap that fucking smirk off his face. Control slowly slipping, she let her confusion, anger and hurt take over, not really able to grasp how mere minutes earlier they had been kissing.

And she _had_ liked it.

"See? This is so typical of you. You do whatever the hell you want and then you expect me to be okay with it. Have you even considered what I think, what I want? No, you come up here like a fucking caveman and kiss me like you were claiming me in your stupid tribe, the only thing left for you to do was to haul me up over your shoulder and drag me to your fucking cave. What the hell were you thinking?" She inhaled deeply and added in a more even voice, attempting to sound in control. "And I'll have you know, if I kissed you back it was only because I am that good of an actress. Don't let this fool you."

She noticed his face had paled at some point during her rant, and his movements had started to slow down, though they both hadn't let go of the other at any moment, still acting as the lovebirds enjoying a slow song (which song were they playing anyway? The fact that she hadn't even noticed because she had been that focused on the bastard irked Emma more than she was willing to admit.) They stared right at each other, both trying to find in the other something, anything that would make it better, that would let them understand what was going on. This was supposed to be a transaction, a business arrangement - she hadn't signed for this emotional trauma. But why the hell would she consider it emotional trauma in the first place?

Gold's words when they had been explained about the deal rang in her ears, warning her about how in these kind of situations, the parties involved tended to develop certain feelings towards each other - not romantic per se, but a certain level of care was probably in the cards when they had agreed to it. And, even as Emma had known that, she wasn't sure she had been aware of what she had gotten herself into as those eyes pierced through her, looking at her as if he wanted to devour her again - even when she had just lashed out at him and called him a fucking caveman and a selfish asshole.

The worst part was not knowing if she would be able to stop herself if he did.

This was what they did best, the tension, the sparks, the fight - it had been a similar scenario when they had kissed on their date at _Il Cielo_, now that she thought about it - but this? This had been different. And she fretted about not being aware of what was happening, what could come out of this and what had been going on inside that dark head of his to grab her and kiss her like that.

Because that kiss had been no common kiss. No camera-posing kiss. No deal kiss. Maybe the rest would see it like that, the paps, the whole world who may find out about it or see any picture if there had indeed been somebody taking any; but she _knew_.

And she hated not knowing what could have triggered him to act upon it.

"Emma, I..." he tried to reach for her when she untangled her arms from his shoulders and pulled back from him, not looking at his face. She whipped her head at her sides, looking for Ruby or Ella, but she didn't find them - they probably had thought they wanted some kind of privacy after such a display, she guessed - and she lifted a hand in a tired manner. "Save it, I'm done for today. Show's over."

She span on her feet, not bothering to look back at him and a little bit concerned that he'd try to come after her. He didn't, and she was relieved - despite a small part of her, which she was labeling right now as the insane part of her which would only bring her trouble if she ever listened to it, was disappointed that he hadn't. But that was what she wanted, and what she needed right now. To get away. From him, at least.

Her feet carried her to the corner where she had thought she had seen the restroom when they had first come into the club. Entering the brightly lit space, her eyes stinging a bit, she made her way to one of the stalls, ready to stay for a while in there if she considered she wasn't ready to face anybody else after their little tête-à-tête.

How pathetic was she.

After a couple of minutes of taking cleansing breaths - bless those yoga classes Mary Margaret had insisted she joined her in a couple of years ago, they actually _did_ work for her when she was upset or freaked out - and picturing every possible scenario in which she killed Killian fucking Jones - _oh look, lovely aliteration, you go Emma_! - she decided she had been inside long enough in her lonely pity party. Heaving a sigh, she flushed the toilet in case somebody out questioned what she had really been doing in there. Schooling her features, she opened the stall door and approached the sinks lined up on the opposite wall, going to the one which wasn't occupied. As she went to splash some water on her face, a high-pitched voice startled her at her side. "I'm so so so sorry to bother you and I know you get this like, every day, but you are Emma Swan, right?"

She turned to see two girls, maybe in their mid-twenties, all dolled up for the night and staring up at her as if she were some kind of miracle. As much as she loved her fans, it was still weird to be on the receiving end of such adoration in some cases. Smiling widely, she nodded at them. "Yeah, I am."

The one that had talked to her in the first place put her hand on her chest as if she had been shot. "Oh my God. We are, like, your biggest fans! Do you mind if we take a picture with you?"

In a club's restroom? This was a new one for her. But hey, stranger things have happened.

"Of course not. Here," she was about to wrap her arms around the girls shoulders and let one of them to hold her arm out to take the picture when a woman's voice came from behind them. "Let me, I'll take it."

She turned around to see the brunette who had been in the sink right beside the one she had been using, looking at her curiously and holding out her hand for the girls to give her the phone. They didn't waste a moment, and she gave them instructions before snapping a couple of pictures as Emma smiled graciously for their little memento.

_Memento in a Wonderland's restroom_. It had a ring to it.

As one of them took back her phone from the stranger - what the hell, they all were strangers! - the other one kept blabbering at her excitedly. "I can't believe this is happening, I mean, I thought I saw you out there with Killian Jones but I wasn't sure because, you know - congratulations by the way, you're the cutest couple ever! I love you two together!" At the mention of his name, Emma felt her stomach turn into knots and she had to fight the urge not to grimace. She still had a contract to uphold to. Not letting the smile drop from her face, she waved a hand at them, acting amused by their words. Which she was a little bit, to be fair. Cute couple alert. _Ha._

"Thank you, I'm sure he'll be thrilled to hear that."

The two girls made a motion as to leave, sensing their time was up, not before they hugged her and repeated over and over, "you are the best, thank you so much, and you're super pretty by the way!"

She laughed as she hugged them back, patting their backs awkwardly. "You're too sweet, girls. You two have fun, it was lovely to meet you too."

They both left, still flushed and grins so wide they nearly split their faces, and she couldn't help but laugh as she heard their squeals just as they were out of sight. She shook her head, amused, and went back to the sink when another voice, this one sultry and inquiring, shook her out of her musings. "So, you and Killian Jones, huh?"

It was the same woman who had taken the picture for the fans, the brunette. "I'm sorry?"

"I thought I saw him with someone in there, but I didn't know he was, you know - serious about anybody." She shrugged her shoulders carelessly, as if it were a fact universally acknowledged. "I believed he was just whoring around, as usual."

Emma tried not to look too shaken up at this sudden interest and prying in her supposed love life. "Excuse me, do I know you?"

The other woman let out a peal of laughter. "Oh no, you don't."

"Then, if you don't mind me asking, why do you care?" She was _really_ trying not to sound rude, but she really didn't understand how come people believed they were allowed to learn anything about her personal life at all. Hers and his, for that matter.

A perfectly cocked eyebrow in place, she finally answered, "I may not know you, but I _do_ know him."

Well, that was new.

Maybe she was one of those girls he had fucked in the past and now was bitter after he left her and never called her again? What if she held a grudge against him and that made her enemy #1 in her book? What if she was a psycho? Examining her from the corner of her eye in the mirror in front of them, Emma didn't find her peculiarly threatening. She was beautiful, that she couldn't deny - blue, bright eyes, pale skin, long dark lashes and shiny raven hair that flowed in curls to her bare back. No wonder Jones might have had something with her, if that was why they knew each other. Before she had had the chance to properly ask her what did she want or why did she ask about him if she _did_ in fact know him - why don't ask him then, instead of cornering her in the restroom? - a face showed up at the door, smiling brightly at them. "Milah, come on! You're missing all the fun!"

"Coming!" With one last glance over her shoulder to her reflection, she turned once more to Emma, who stood rather bewildered in front of the sink, gripping the cool stone in her hands. "It was nice talking to you, Emma Swan."

And without a second glance, she left, leaving a more-than-confused Emma in her wake. What the fuck had _that_ been?

* * *

"The new couple was sighted leaving _Troubadour_ together after The Lost Boys' concert, which Emma Swan (28) attended with some friends, as fans have assessed countless times, where they were seen having fun in the side stage. Later, they gave a more than sweet spectacle in the luxurious club _Wonderland_, where they joined the rest of the band and were immortalized kissing passionately on the dancefloor and sharing a slow dance. '_They looked so cozy together, they are so in love!',_ a source told us when we asked about the new hot couple..."

Emma could hear Ruby's voice even when she had her earphones on, she was reading _that_ loudly. She knew what she was doing: she was trying to get a reaction from her. Well, she could keep waiting - she was in no mood to talk about it. Not today, not ever.

They were spending the rest of their morning chilling on the beach, as they had had a most than excruciatingly tiring week - and, as much as she wanted to crawl back to bed, the beach option that her friend had proposed had tempted her too much. Henry was at school and until she had to pick him up she was free to enjoy the lazy sun and warm breeze, the promise of summer hanging in the air making her smile. They both lay on the sand, attempting to forget their crazy schedule, various engagements and the upcoming premiere - which still got Emma a bit on edge. She wanted to smack herself; what was with her? It wasn't as if she hadn't attended others, right? It wasn't the fact that loads of things could go wrong - the dress, some question thrown her way, crazy fans pulling one of those stunts no one wanted to be part of, you called it.

The fact that _they_ had to come, too.

But, above all that, she was mostly freaked out about the reception of the movie. As fun as promo may have been - which was still rolling, mind you - it was slightly easier to talk about something that not everybody has seen yet. Despite waiting eagerly for her family and friends to watch it and see for themselves how good it was - not because of her, but because of the product itself - she wasn't sure she was ready for the world to embrace her work and her value in such a promising project.

And when thoughts like these crawled into her head, she wanted nothing more than to kick herself and grumble under her breath how she was being a complete ninny, and to stop whining and hold her head up. Just as she had told Jones when he had nearly shit his pants before his performance on the night talk show.

And once again, _he_ was there, muddling the inner workings of her brain and just screwing everything up. As always.

She hadn't talked to him since the night in Wonderland - she had left with Ella not long after she had come out of the restroom, following her run in with that Milah chick. She had claimed that she was tired, and seeing as Ruby wanted to stay a bit more with they boys - and Victor, of course - Ella took pity on her and decided to leave with her too, laughing at her apologies when they were already on their way out of the club and back home. She had been more than okay with it, she had told her, as she had left Thomas with Alex alone, and she wasn't so sure she had made the right decision leaving her young daughter without motherly supervision. Guys were pretty useless, after all.

She couldn't blame her.

"Emma, are you even listening to anything I'm saying?"

Adjusting her towel under her, she didn't even look at her friend while she answered. "Ruby, you're reading a freaking magazine - if I wanted to know what it says, I'd have bought it and read it myself."

"You hate these magazines." It was a clear statement. A true statement.

"And that's why I don't buy them. Ding ding ding!"

Ruby huffed and raked a hand through her dark locks, which looked ready for a freaking conditioner commercial even half full of sand after they had thrown each other handfuls right when they had settled their things. Lucky she adored her, or she'd have to hate her guts. "Ugh, if I knew better, I'd say you're in this crappy mood of yours because of that row with Killian."

Emma's mouth fell open, completely taken by surprise. "I am not!"

Her friend sent her a challenging look in response, like she knew exactly what was going on inside her head. Which she probably did. Damn her.

"Then why are you acting like this? What happened?"

"I'm just - I'm nervous and I'm tired and I just want to eat chocolate and watch a movie and never leave my bed okay?," she said miserably, laying down on the towel again and burying her face in her arms.

"Sure you do. I do too. But that's not it. Because that's your usual mood."

Emma turned her face towards her, a frown marring her forehead. She really hated that she could read her so well. "I hate you." That earned her a grin from the brunette, who looked excessively pleased with herself.

"No you don't. Spill."

Groaning in frustration, she propped herself on her elbows, her fingers tracing patterns in the sand in front of her. "What do you want me to say? That that kiss was all kinds of wrong and he didn't even give me a chance to think about it?"

She saw her examining her, a confused look on her face. "But why does it bother you so much? You know you have to swap spit with him so the deal still holds, right?"

"First of all - ew. And second, I don't know. I like having control over things, and it threw me off - and then he had the nerve to call me out on it, saying that I shouldn't act all angry at him because I had enjoyed it!" She threw a small shell that had been sitting right by her in her exasperation. Oops. Bye, seashell. It was not your fault, you were just caught in the crossfire.

Ruby's voice was cautious. "...did you?"

"THAT'S NOT THE POINT!" Where were more seashells to throw when a girl needed them, dammit?

She saw her friend shake her head at her sadly, lifting her face in an attempt to absorb the maximum amount of vitamin D possible. "You two need to fix this or you're going to screw it up. And after all the hard work you've been doing - this is childish, Emma. Who cares if you liked it? Hell, you'd be crazy if you didn't enjoy having a hot guy kissing you like he wanted to swallow you in the middle of the whole club. It was amazing to see, I'm telling you."

"But...," she tried to interrupt her, but she was having none of it. She went on as if she hadn't talked at all.

"Isn't it the same like kissing Graham or any other guy you may have worked with?"

Huh. "Yes, but..."

"There you have it. Now, shut up, enjoy the sun and then you're going to talk to Killian." Emma was getting tired of getting interrupted - and here her friend thought _she_ was the one who had to make first move and acknowledge the Irishwanker exceptional's ass? Nope. Not a chance in hell. She huffed for what felt like the hundredth time since the conversation had started. "And why would I do that? He hasn't tried to talk to me either since that night."

"Oh, I talked to Victor - they were downtown in some meeting and were having lunch near here, so we're meeting them."

"RUBY!" Why did everyone she knew decide to make decisions for her? Jesus. Ruby gave her innocent eyes, pouting slightly - though she could see the inkling of a smile in the corner of her lips.

"What? It's for the best: this way you'll both let it out and finally get past it. Wouldn't you rather clear this up once and for all? I know you Emma, and when you're troubled about something, you can't focus on anything else - and you need to be on top form now for these next weeks. You'll see," she patted her hand in a comforting manner, though Emma wanted nothing more than to bite it off. The sudden knowledge that she had to talk to Jones right now wasn't sitting too well with her.

Deciding it wouldn't do her any good to whine and kick like a child - and, in a secluded corner of her mind, admitting that her friend's idea actually made sense, - she sighed and laid down again, letting the spring sun warm her back. It wasn't long later - well, she really couldn't know, as she had dozed off, the exhaustion finally catching up to her and the calming sound of the waves crashing on the shore soothing her troubled thoughts - when a shadow fell over her.

"As much as I enjoy this view, I'd rather you were on your back, Swan."

_Here we go_.

She looked over at Ruby, who was trying really hard not to laugh at her face. "And this is why I didn't miss him at all."

She heard him while she still laid there, not bothering to acknowledge his presence - even though she knew full well he would give her hell until she did, of course. But guess what? Two could play at being a pain in the ass. "Did I hear 'miss'? My, Swan, I'm flattered."

Ruby chose that moment to stand, shaking sand from her and gripping Victor's hand in hers. "Hey, let's take a walk and leave these two so they can talk or kill each other in peace, shall we?"

"My pleasure. Try not to murder him though, Emma - we need him for the band and all, you see."

"I can't promise anything," she answered sarcastically at their retreating backs. She finally looked over at her 'boyfriend', a hand cast over her forehead to protect her eyes from the sun. "What the hell are you doing up there? Sit at least, you moron."

Rolling his eyes at her, he sat on Ruby's towel, facing her. "You know, it's unnerving how many names you call me."

She fiddled with the hem of her towel. "As if you didn't have a couple for me in store to let out when I least expect it." She saw him smile knowingly, and he was looking at - her back? "I'm thinking about Freckles. Damn, Swan - you have so many!"

She turned enraged eyes to him, gritting her teeth almost painfully. "They're beauty spots, idiot."

"And freckles."

"Whatever."

"Have you ever counted them?"

Was he serious? "Why would I count how many beauty spots I have? Like, really? Why?"

He shrugged, still examining her back oddly. _Could. He. Stop. THAT?_ "I don't know. I was just curious. Do you mind if I count them?"

"JONES. Shut the hell up about my freckles or whatever."

Silence fell over them, and Emma wondered how were they supposed to break the ice about the dreaded conversation they had to have. She kept on fiddling with the towel, fingers clenching in the soft cloth, a corner of her mind reminding her that it had been a gift from David when they first visited Disneyland. Smiling slightly at the memory and promising herself they'd have to schedule a visit soon, his voice abruptly interrupted her thoughts.

"Look, I'm sorry."

That had been unexpected.

"You are?," she wondered aloud, taken aback. She saw him turn his head towards the shore, his face a mask of concentration and serenity. He sighed and went on. "Yes. I should have told you I planned on kissing you. It was not fair to you, and even if you _did_ follow exquisitely your part, I understand why you got so mad about it."

She examined him and could not find a trace of mockery or deception in his words - though she could sense there was something she was missing, something he didn't tell her. Maybe something he hadn't even admitted to himself, as terrifying as the idea might be for her.

"Thank you," she whispered, gulping loudly. It was her turn. "I guess I shouldn't have reacted that way in there, though. This is a deal after all - if I screw up, you are screwed too. We're a team, right?," she asked, looking at him under her lashes. She saw him staring back at her, a weird expression marring his features. "Sure we are."

She nodded, satisfied, and let out a breath. There, everything settled. "Okay. So, next time, try not to leave me in the dark, or I don't know, maybe we should have like a code or something."

"Next time? Eager, are we?," he smirked. "Oh, I like the code thing. What do you have in mind?"

Why did all her silly ideas have such a good reception...? "I don't know. I only come up with boring stuff."

He shook his head, amused. "I don't believe that - if I had to say something about you, the last thing I'd think of would be boring, Swan." He studied her from the corner of his eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "What about '_freckles'_ being the password? If we mention something about freckles, that's the sign - there's a kiss near in the horizon."

She dropped her head on her hand, fighting the urge to scream or laugh. She wasn't entirely sure yet. "You have such a bizarre fascination with freckles, you weirdo."

"But they are lovely," he protested. One eyebrow quirked upwards, she looked over at him. "Are you calling me lovely by that?"

"Look at you, fishing for compliments," he flashed her a grin, and she felt her face blush. Wiping a hand through it, she looked at the inviting water, considering the pros and cons of actually getting up, walking there, splashing some over her flushed skin and coming back to deal with him. Propping herself up and sitting on the towel, still debating her dilemma, she spied him checking her out.

_Ha_. What bikinis could do, really. It was like there was something in the Y chromosome that made them turn into idiots at their sight.

It didn't help that this one's idiocy level in particular was already pretty high.

"I'll be right back," she stated, getting up and making her way to the shore. She took her sweet time walking there, letting the cool water lap at her feet, exhaling loudly as the tension she had been carrying around for the past days leaving her.

She couldn't deny she felt quite better now. Though the fact that a single conversation with Jones affected her so much scared the crap out of her.

She came back to find him laying on Ruby's towel playing with his phone. She sat on hers and started rubbing off some sand that had stuck to her legs when he talked again. "By the way, are you coming this Saturday?"

"What?"

His eyes left the screen for a moment to watch her. "Red Lips didn't tell you? We're going to have little reunion in the studio. You know, like the day you joined us for takeout?"

Huh. Maybe they could have their Saturday get together with them? "Oh. Um, yeah, I guess...?"

"Of course your friends and family are more than welcome. I believe it's time we actually try to engage in some kind of formal conversation, don't you think?"

Her heart hammered almost painfully against her chest. Was he talking about Henry? He hadn't mentioned anything about her son since all of this had started, and as much as it eased her knowing Henry was safe from all this circus, she could not deny that she had wondered why he hadn't asked her anything about it either, seeing as he couldn't stop spouting questions about her whenever he could. Before she could answer him, her phone started ringing. Reaching out inside her purse, she grasped it in her hand and answered. "Hi?"

"Emma, it's Ruby, this is Victor's number. You guys cool?"

"Yeah, everything's fine," she answered offhandedly.

"Oh, right - I guessed because of your oh-so-sweet tweet."

What was that?

"What?"

A boisterous laugh came from the line. "I knew it hadn't been you. We'll be back in 5. Don't kill him. Yet."

She hang up and Emma was left staring at the screen, speechless. She turned furious eyes to Jones, who was stifling a laugh at her - and failing miserably. "You should probably check your twitter love, I believe there's something you should know..."

"I am going to fucking murder you, you asshole," she growled, impatiently tapping the app and praying for whatever deity above caring enough to hear her to kill him for her sake. Preferably slowly and painfully.

"Come on, trolling twitter is one of my specialities!"

The twitter feed finally open, she ignored the hundreds of retweets, favorites and mentions she had gotten in a span of ten minutes - Jesus, what was going on? - and read at last her supposed tweet, her blood running cold when she did.

_I wish you all knew how amazing Killian is! *wink* And I'm not just talking about his bed manners..._

She whipped her head to him so fast she could almost hear her neck crack. "OH NO YOU DIDN'T!" She got up in a flash and went to tackle him, his surprised face pleasing her more than it should have.

"Swan! SWAN!"

He fought with her for a moment, not even bothering to stop from laughing at her flushed face and muttered curses at him and everything he cherished, until he managed to escape from her assault and jump to his feet, running with a too-furious Emma behind him.

That was the sight that Victor and Ruby were witnesses of when they arrived: a boy and a girl chasing each other, sand flying around them as they tried to reach the other in a mesmerizing dance, laughs and shrieks following their path.

* * *

"MOM! LET'S GO OR WE'RE GOING TO BE LATE!"

"Henry, we are not going to be late."

He pointed a finger accusingly at her. "We are if you keep making excuses to not leave the house!" She threw her arms up in the air, exasperated.

"I'm just leaving everything ready - no one likes to live in a dumper, you know."

He wasn't about to let it go. "You're not leaving _'everything ready'_. You're scrubbing everything like we are going to get visited by the president or something!"

"You're so dramatic," she rolled her eyes at him.

"And you are stalling!"

She stood before him, putting her hands on his shoulder in a soothing manner. "Henry, calm down."

"I am calm!" Sure he was. Sugar levels seemed to have increased in the last hour.

"You are shaking."

"I'm just excited!"

"No kidding," she muttered. That much was obvious, for God's sake.

"You're being impossible," he said, shaking his head at her as if he was disappointed with her behavior.

She laughed heartily at that. "You sound so much like your uncle right now, oh my God."

He finally came to stand in front of her and held her hand in his smaller one, tugging her to the door. She had to take her light jacket and hat as she passed by the counter, as she had already left in the car the goods they were bringing to the petit comité they had arranged: Regina's lasagna - which she always made for Henry whenever she stayed with her and Daniel and knew it was his favorite-, popcorn and brownies she had baked with Henry that morning. She had had to slap her own hand a couple of times in her temptation to snatch a couple of them, which Henry found hilarious, calling her out on her chocolate obsession and how she should be the kid and him the parental figure.

Yeah, right. She had it under control. She really did.

Taking her keys out of her purse, she locked the front door and clicked the car ones so they could get in. Settling in the passenger's seat, her son was nearly bouncing in his excitement, strands of hair flying as he fiddled with the radio to play, of course, some of The Lost Boys' songs. When she had told him they were going to their studio to meet the band for dinner, he had completely freaked out: he had hugged her and started firing questions non stop, not really giving her any chance to even answer as he kept rabbiting on about how awesome it would be, and how did she think they would act, and if she believed they'd let him play the guitar. When she had promised him that there would probably be a girl around his age there so he wouldn't feel left out - which he never did, no matter what the circumstances - his round of inquiries had doubled, stating incredulously once and again how he hadn't known that one of the bandmates had a daughter.

As she started the ignition, her phone rang, and she signaled Henry to pick it up, as she was driving. "Hello? Hey Graham!," he revolved towards her. "Do you want me to put it on speaker so you can talk to him?"

"Okay." He tapped the phone a couple of times until a beep was heard. "Is it working?" he asked aloud.

"You tell me!" Graham's lilt answered, obviously amused by her kid's antics. They had gotten along infamously since they had met when they were still filming in Canada and Henry had come to visit her on set with Ruth.

"It is!" he answered excitedly. At this pace, Emma was worried the day would end in the hospital, the way his heart rate seemed to be working.

"Great! Hey Emma - are you on your way then to the boys'?"

"Yeah, we were just leaving home. Why?" Was he chickening out? She really wanted him to be there - she missed their Saturday's routines, and she was more than curious to see how he was with the guys.

"Nothing, I'm going to be a little late - I'll be there in about an hour. Could you tell them that I'll try to make it as soon as I can, please?"

Emma nodded her head until she realized he couldn't see her. Duh. "Sure, no problem. See you there then, Cupid," she added with a laugh.

"I told you you'd love it," he replied, amused with his newfound nickname.

She rolled her eyes. "Shut up. Oh - and guess what."

"What?"

She dropped her voice to barely a whisper, as if she were sharing a secret with him. "I'm bringing brownies."

She could hear him curse under his breath. "Damn you. I'll be there in five if you promise me goodies."

"Byeeee," she added teasingly, making a gesture to Henry to hang up and laughing at his mischievous expression. They hit the road, and she stole curious glances at him from the corner of her eye as he sang along the songs distractedly, waving a hand outside of the window. She smiled, her heart bursting with pride and joy at seeing him so happy. She would always make everything in her power to achieve her son's contentment, of course - but the fact that this fucked-up idea they had embarked on had managed to lift her kid's spirits more than she could remember in years left her breathless, if she were being completely honest.

Although there was a nagging in the back of her head that reminded her that this was all something temporary, so she had to tread carefully in Henry's involvement with everything. She wasn't worried about herself - it was _him_ she was focused in protecting. She knew she could handle rejection, the comments and whatever may be thrown at her when the contract finally expired, - but not him. Not her blissfully-unaware-of-how-the-real-world-works son. She tried to chastise herself a bit, telling herself that, even after everything was all done and Jones and her didn't have to fake anything anymore, they could still be friends, right? It wasn't like they couldn't have fun together, as the other day had proved in a most surprising twist, she had to admit. And knowing that Henry would love to keep hanging out with them - or at least having some sort of link to them - she really believed they wouldn't deny a kid that.

Or so she thought, of course. Who knew.

They arrived at last, and Emma proceeded to park beside Ruby's car - she could see Jones' and two more vehicles, and a black motorbike which she guessed belonged to August, as she had heard Jones' teasing him about it once. She managed a smile at her son, ruffling his hair adoringly and examining him to check if he was looking presentable. Oh God, was she turning into one of those mothers, pinching their kids' cheeks while showing them off? "Ready?"

"Yeah!" he jumped from his seat and closed the door with a bang. They both walked to the back so they could get out the bags with the food - _'careful with the brownies. The brownies Henry!' _- and they made their way towards the door. She looked down at him again, giving him a reassuring smile and then knocked twice on the glass door, expecting Ruby to open up as she had texted her to alert her of their arrival. Henry stood on the tips of his shoes, trying to catch a glimpse of the inside of the building, and she scratched his head with her hand, trying to calm him a bit.

It wasn't Ruby who showed up to open the door for them, though - it was Aurora, waving at her and nearly glowing with glee. "Emma! So glad you made it!" She turned to Henry, a gracious smile sent his way. "And you are, if I may know?"

"I'm Henry."

"Welcome, Henry. You are about to enter the secret haven of The Lost Boys - so we must know if you're going to keep all of their secrets. Do you swear?" Aurora's sudden serious voice made Emma want to crack up, but she was in fact more focused on Henry, whose eyes had lit up and he eagerly nodded his head, holding out his hand for her to shake. She did, and finally opened the door all the way for them to enter. Emma saw Ruby approaching them with Grace hot on her heels, and she let out a relieved sigh at her sight. The girl let out a little squeal when she realized she was there, and ran to where she was to hug her. Emma returned the hug, smiling sweetly at her, and then pulled back a bit so she could hold Henry's hand so he would join them. "Henry, this is Grace. She is Jefferson's daughter." She looked at the girl again, who was positively beaming at her. "She's the Wendy to The Lost Boys!"

Eyes wide and mouth agape, he turned to her, speechless. "You are?"

That prompted an excited conversation between the two kids, sharing stories about their lives with their respective parents' careers and awesome and cool stuff they had done thanks to them, along with the places they had been able to visit. Ruby, Aurora and Emma exchanged amused glances between them and pushed them a bit so they would follow them to the studio while they kept on with their talk. Just as Emma was about to enter the room after all of them, she thought she heard someone calling her. She stopped on her tracks, asking confusedly to the empty hallway, "What?"

"Come here!"

She followed the voice to the storage room she had been in with Jones when he had bandaged her hand - and she had crashed those broken speakers in her wake, she recalled with a flinch. She stood on the doorway and knocked a couple of times, not really knowing why she had been summoned in here. She finally saw Jones, head buried inside a closet under some shelves, furiously looking for something in the mess that surely was kept in there. Dust was starting to form a cloud around him and she wondered what in hell he was trying to retrieve in there. She heard him finally let out a triumphant "aha!" and he emerged from the corner, a guitar in his hands. She cocked an eyebrow at him, making a face at his obvious attempt to confuse her. "What is it?"

He flashed her an award-winning grin. "Swan, here I am bearing gifts and you say nothing. Tsk tsk."

"A gift?" she stammered. Smooth, Emma. Really smooth.

He caressed the sleek material with a tenderness that caught her off-guard her. "Yep. This was my first guitar - it is too small for me now, but I thought it'd be perfect for you."

"What would I want a guitar for anyway?", she questioned, still not believing he was actually giving _her_ his guitar.

"For our lessons, of course," he stated, as if it were obvious.

"Who said I wanted - or needed, for that matter - guitar lessons?"

He seemed unfazed by her obvious attempts at avoiding his gift. "You didn't, but I thought you would enjoy it nevertheless. Take it."

"Jones..."

"Could you please for once just accept this and shut up? Even if you don't actually play it, I think it'd be rather rude to reject such a thoughtful gift, if I do say so myself," he lastly snapped in a tired tone.

Biting her lip worriedly, she lifted her gaze to his, and finally picked the instrument up, holding it to her chest as he had taught her and finding that it did fit better than the other one she had practiced on. She cleared her throat and looked back at him. "Thank you. This was really nice of you."

"You're very welcome. You'll become Froilan Maria in no time, you'll see," he winked at her, his grin a flash of white in the somewhat dim room. She shook her head at him and motioned to the door. "Let's get moving, Captain von Trapp - you up for brownies?"

"You baked _brownies_? Swan, you should have told me this earlier - now you're not going to get rid of me that easily!"

They bantered back and forth as they went back into the studio, now packed as in their absence August, Philip, Jefferson and Victor had joined Ruby and Aurora, along with Grace and Henry, whom were seating on the couch still debating hotly between them. Just when she set foot in the room, Henry saw her and, at the sight of the guitar in her hands, he got up and ran to her, face lit up. "Mom! Where did you get that? Whose is it?"

Before she could explain how she would now be able to teach him some guitar lessons if he still wanted - and if she indeed learnt anything at all, of course - she heard Jones' disbelieving voice behind her. "Mom?!"

* * *

_***insert 'ha haha haha hahahahaha' audio clip here* I AM SO SORRY.**_

_**Wait no, I am not. **_

_**So - I got a couple reviews asking if the mysterious woman was a stalker...? I hope this helps a bit to clear that up. Of course it was Milah. We're still a bit in the dark about their past and what went down there but we'll find out eventually ;) **_

_**And a lot of you were wondering too when Henry and Killian would meet. Well, we'll see how that goes next chapter, tho for now I believe it's been quite promising, lol. Clueless bunny. I just can't with him.**_

_**Special thanks to my lovely Cee for spellchecking at unholy hours of the night (I adore you bb), and each one of you who has read, reviewed, favorited and alerted. You all rock my socks. **_

_**Until next one! :)**_

_**This chapter was written while loads of Lana del Rey's "Damn You" played in the BG. And The Corrs. Loads of The Corrs. Bcs Irish feels. **_


	18. Chapter 18: Crossfire

_**Disclaimer: None of this characters are mine. No Killian Jones, no Emma Swan, no Graham, no Ruby. Not even little Henry. Not even Grace. Nope. If they did, we'd all hang out and I'd probably spend my days staring at their prettiness and perfection. Sadly, they all are owned by Adam Horowitz and Edward Kitsis, along with OUAT. Bastards.**_

* * *

Killian was about to start annoying the crap out of Swan until she told him where she had left the brownies so he could try them - and of course tease her even if they were good, which he didn't doubt at all - when he saw from the corner of his eye how a kid, no older than ten, sitting beside Grace suddenly jumped to his feet and ran to her, face lit up and asking about the guitar he had just given her.

And he called her _mom_.

_Mom._

What the fuck was that?

Was this Emma's son? But - wait, that couldn't be. If she had a son, how come she had agreed to the deal at all? It didn't make any sense, right? Didn't he have a dad? He wanted to slap himself right there at the thought; as if having a kid immediately meant having both parents still happily married - just look at poor Jefferson. Nevertheless, maybe the father was out there; shouldn't he have been informed of this at least? Or didn't he? Was there a father at all or was he adopted, as Emma had been? He tried to come up with the multiple possibilities answering the issue presented before him, but all he could see was the kid's hazel eyes, the pale skin, even the light freckles on his nose - and the same bewildered expression that Swan usually had when she was taken by surprise by something.

Oh God. He _really_ was her child.

Why the fuck had nobody bothered to tell him that she had a _child_? Still standing in the doorway completely dumbstruck, he saw how Swan's back tensed when she heard him, probably realizing that he, in fact, hadn't been filled in on her mother status. _Yeah, sweetcakes, I was not. Not at all. Thank you for that, by the way._ Not taking his eyes from the kid, he noticed how she approached him hurriedly as silence fell over the room, everybody holding their breaths at the implication of his astonished words. She crouched down in front of the kid, taking his hand in hers and smiling tightly, putting on a front for his sake, he guessed. "Henry, I want you to meet someone," she then turned her head towards him, and he was more than surprised to see the pleading look in her eyes, as he had expected more like a glare or a promise of a painful death at her hands for putting her on the spot, "this is Killian."

He gulped loudly, trying to ignore the shiver in his spine at the sound of his name on her lips. He couldn't remember her ever using it since they had met, and a small part of him wanted to thank the kid for making her say it, even if he hadn't been aware of it.

He hated himself for wanting her to say it again.

He kept looking at her, really attempting to hide the confusion and panic threatening to consume him right there at the prospect of meeting her son.

Her son.

This wasn't happening, oh God.

Knowing he couldn't avoid it for much longer, he smoothed his features into a mask of calm indifference and finally addressed the kid, clearing his throat in the process so his voice didn't came out as strangled as he suspected it would after such a revelation. "Hey, Henry. It's nice to meet you."

The boy bounced a bit on his feet, excited, and Killian felt his chest constrict at the honest smile on his face, so familiar to his mother's when she dared to let it slip. "Hi! I've been waiting forever to meet you," he whipped his head around to meet the rest of the band's faces around him, remorse written all over his expression, as if he had said something shameful, "to meet you all, really. This is awesome!"

He had? "Have you?," he asked, cocking an eyebrow, his voice faltering a little. A memory of Swan's words telling him how her family was all kind of groupies of them rang in his ears, and he cursed silently for assuming it was only Red Lips' doing. The kid nodded eagerly and put a hand on Swan's shoulder, who kept her gaze fixed on her son, as if his face held the answers to the Universe. "Yeah. My mom told me she had been here before and I showed her your songs and your videos - she didn't even know who you were before she met you! Can you believe that?"

The fact that he didn't use her son's words as a way to mock Swan was proof enough of his still-in-place shock. He had to get away from there, one way or another. He needed answers. "Your mom is a really special lass, that I know," he commented gravely, directing his words at her so she'd know they had to talk. Soon. He then turned to his bandmates, knowing whom would give him the details he lacked of the story. "August, I need your help with something - would you mind joining me for a tic?"

Sending his way a tired look, he nodded and walked with him out of the door. "Sure."

They made their way to the little storage room he had been in earlier with Emma - God, had that been minutes earlier? It seemed like an eternity. As soon as he closed the door behind him, the keyboardist was all over him, a hand on his hip and the other in the air. "Killian - what the fuck was that?"

His voice came out slightly panicked. "Why aren't you all freaking out with me? Join me, will you?"

"Jesus fucking Christ, you really didn't know she had a son?" His expression was decidedly stunned. The wanker had known all along? Why was he always the one to find out about everything last?

"Since when have you known?," he asked, perplexed. August looked ready to punch him for all that was worth.

"Since it was in the contract? Or, you know, on her fucking website if you had bothered to check it out?"

Killian wanted to let the ground swallow him right there. Goodbye world, it was nice meeting you. "It was in the contract?!"

Pinching the bridge of his nose, August started talking after heaving a long sigh. "Of course it was! There were a couple of paragraphs stating the people closer to us who wouldn't be in about the whole secrecy thing - Aurora, my father, Emma and David's mother, Grace... and who else would _Henry Swan_ be?"

"Where the fuck was that?" he asked, annoyed. He didn't remember that. He tried to recall whatever he had read from the papers he had been sent - there had been the conditions they could have modified in case they wanted, or added things; that was what he had been interested in, just in case Swan had petitioned for something in particular. He thought he saw some kind of personal record of his, and now he wondered if there had been another one of hers and he had just been so stupid as to not bother to even check everything out. He may have learned much more about her before all of this even started.

Or do some research, as his friends had admonished him to do weeks earlier.

As if he had been reading his mind, his friend turned accusing eyes to him. "Killian - did you read the whole contract?"

_Busted_. "No, but..."

"Then don't try to blame this on it!" Just as August's plea left his lips, the door opened and a worried Philip joined them, head whipping from one to another, assessing the mood. "What was that out there?"

"Oh, Jesus..." He was _so_ not in the mood. Making a motion with his hand, he let August take the floor.

"Killian here apparently doesn't have a fucking clue how to properly read and just had to find out about Emma's kid when he ran into him right now."

"Are you kidding me? It was in the contract!"

Gritting his teeth in frustration, he let his fist knock the wooden table sitting beside him in a loud bang. "So they say - hey, guess what! I said I'd do anything for the band to set sail after I had fucked up, so forgive me for not even caring what I'd have to do so it did, you bastards. Gold told me to tell everybody I was dating this girl, I did. End of the story."

After a pregnant pause, Philip heaved a sigh and approached him, patting his shoulder comfortingly. "Hey - we know you are doing this for all of our sakes. It's just - come on, it's weird you hadn't had any idea about this!"

He considered his words, and a sudden idea crossed his mind. "Well, taking in consideration the fact that we can count on one hand the times Swan and I have been together in the same room - and half of them were pre-contract, - I believe it's not so weird the topic hasn't been brought up." Right before he could comment on how _she_ should have mentioned something about it - after all, it was her life and her kid - the door opened for the second time, this time Jefferson and Victor entering the place. "What the fuck was that?"

He rolled his eyes at the ceiling, exasperated. "I hadn't heard that yet, you know."

Jefferson ignored him. "What happened?"

"He just found out about Emma's kid," Philip summarized.

Victor's eyes went wide. "Henry? Are you kidding? Jones, this is pathetic even for you."

"Why would it be pathetic if no one has told me?" he wondered aloud. He saw August's face turn pensive. "Did you need us to tell you?"

"A memo would have been nice, at least," he grumbled under his breath. He looked at them under his lashes, suspicion lacing his voice. "Did you all know?"

"Of course we did!" they all chanted in unison. Huh. What a great chorus. He was slightly tempted to joke about them all forming a band.

Alas, it was not a time for jokes.

"Then why didn't anyone say anything?!" he cried, his level of annoyance reaching levels he wasn't sure he wanted to explore. He noticed how they all exchanged glances between them, seemingly debating to share something with him. It was Jefferson who spoke up in the end. "...Killian, we know you're a bit on edge around kids. And I'm using 'a bit' loosely here. Except Gracie, that is, but that's different - you have known her since she was in nappies."

He was glad his gaze was turned to the side so they wouldn't be able to see his expression. His hands curled into fists and he had to fight the trembling in them so they wouldn't notice. "I am not."

He spied Victor shaking his head in response. "Dude, admit it. You're scared of the little people."

He tried to go for the rational approach so they'd stop talking about this. "Even if I were not completely comfortable with the idea, though - it'd have been nice for someone to mention it."

"We thought you were the one who didn't want to talk about it in the first place because of your clear aversion to kids as of late, you idiot," August piped in, frustrated.

He sat himself on the table, not really worried about the possibility of its damaged wood giving out under his weight, and ran a hand over his face tiredly. "This is so fucked up." They all whipped their heads towards the door in unison as it opened for what felt like the hundredth time and Red Lips entered like she owned the damn place.

"What the fuck was that?," she shrieked.

"Is there anybody who is NOT here?" he mused aloud. Seriously, the room couldn't be more cramped at this point, between the entire band, the junk cluttering every fucking corner and now her. She turned to him, her eyes blazing, and for a moment he was slightly afraid for himself. This was Swan's best friend - no wonder they shared some traits, and he bet anything both of the girls weren't the kind that went down without a fight. She pointed a finger at him and spoke in a intimidating voice. "You idiot - go back there and smile like you mean it or I swear I'm going to kick your ass so hard you're not going to need pixie dust to fly to Neverland. I really don't even wanna know what that was or why, but I don't want to imagine what Henry must think of this, considering you ran like the plague from him. Either he thinks you're going to dump her mom because of him, or that you don't like him."

"Woah. Feisty," he heard Jefferson mutter under his breath. He ignored him and barked, outraged, "that's stupid, I have met him for a minute!"

She stared at him unimpressed, hands on hips and pursing her lips. "Sure, and you ran like hell just right after you did! And he is a ten-year-old boy, who has just met one of his favorite bands - and his mother's _'boyfriend'_. Funny thing is that, knowing him, he'd be more worried about her than himself around you."

He mulled over her words in his head, feeling a sudden sympathy for the boy for caring so much about his mother in the first place. That was a trait he would admire in anyone, but he considered it even more impressive coming from such a young boy - for fighting so much for his family's sake.

He heard Philip beside him adding in a conceding tone, "Killian, she's right."

He was starting to get agitated at this point. _Ha_. As if he hadn't been since he had seen that boy hugging Swan. "Wait - I just came here because I was freaked out, not because I didn't want to meet the kid! Don't try to judge me for something that I haven't even done."

Victor groaned tiredly, moving already to stand beside Red Lips. "Then what are we all doing in here? Let's go back and just - try to chillax around the boy, he's not going to bite, you know. And he looked super cute with Gracie," he commented, sending a teasing look in Jefferson's direction. The drummer didn't find his implications so amusing, though. "Don't even try to start pairing off my daughter, or so help me I'll kill you."

"Come on, they do," Victor pouted.

"For fuck's sake..." He could feel a headache coming, he just knew it. He really needed a fucking smoke.

Tired of waiting, Ruby threw her hands in the air and approached him, grabbing his wrist and propping him to his feet forcefully, dragging him across the room towards the door in her grasp. Damn, the girl was fit. He wouldn't trade places with Victor if he ever pissed her off. "Time to go, Jones. _Go_."

_Yeah, he was going straight to hell_. He wasn't looking forward to that talk with Swan.

* * *

When they came back, Killian was surprised to find the place practically empty - no kidding, he mused to himself, we were all in that fucking tiny room - and spied Aurora sitting with Grace and Swan's kid - _Henry_, he reminded himself with a flinch. He studied him from the other side of the room, noticing the little mannerisms he had, the brightness in his speech and the easy laugh he kept letting out mid conversation with the two girls. Aurora looked as entranced with him as she had been when she had first met Grace when Philip introduced her to the band, ready to make a _'lost girl'_ out of her - and it did seem like both the kids had reciprocated her feelings instantly. No wonder they did, he mused - she was a sweetheart, and she was at ease with children around her. He wondered how Swan would be around them; he had only seen her with Grace once, but if it were indication of anything, he was sure she was more than fine. Of course she was, she was a _mother_.

Wait - where had Swan gone?

"Where is Emma?" Philip echoed his silent question as he entered behind him, approaching his girlfriend. She smiled at him and looked at all of them curiously, surely wondering what they had all been doing away. "Someone called, she said she'd be back right now."

Henry snorted and shook his head. "It depends on who it is - if it's Regina, then she'll try to hang up as soon as she can because she hates being told what to do," he shared confidently, "but if it's grandma or Ruby or Mary Margaret and David, she'll stay on the phone for _hours_. It's annoying."

Victor smirked at the boy, and he could see him looking from the corner of his eye at Grace sitting beside him. "Why is it annoying? You have any girlfriends to talk to on the phone?"

The poor boy's face turned beet red. "No. I'm ten. Duh. But it is, because she paces around the whole house and if I'm trying to read or watch TV or whatever I can hear her talking nonstop or cracking up and it distracts me."

"Henry, it is not that bad," Ruby tried to chastise him - or defend herself, he guessed. Oh, he bet those two spent hours on the phone alright.

The boy pointed at her, his face turning accusing. "You two are the worst." The brunette cocked an eyebrow at him, pouting lightly and with mischief etched on her face. Oh-oh.

"Are we? I'm sure you'll love to say that again when you want something from us."

"You are blackmailing me? You can't do that," Henry gasped, outraged.

"Sure I can."

"But you won't, because I'm your favorite." He looked pretty sure of himself, Killian would give him that.  
Red Lips shrugged, acting as if that didn't matter too much to her. "I have no other little family around - oh wait, now I have Grace too! Take that, you traitor!," she suddenly recalled, moving to sit beside the girl and wrapping an arm around her shoulders, sticking her tongue out at him.

"You are the traitor! You told me I was the only one!"

"See Henry? I told you she could not be trusted!" a heavily accented voice answered from the doorway, and they all turned to see a smiling Graham and Swan there. Killian's gaze fell on her face, and could see the tension on it. He needed to talk to her, though it wouldn't do any good right now after his escape earlier - they had to keep it together for a while before the 'talk'.

God, how he hated 'talks'. Even if their last one had gone pretty well, all things considered, this one looked like it wouldn't be as easily resolved as that one. She caught his eyes, and they stared at each other for a whole minute, while the rest of the room vanished around them - he swore he could hear the gears in her brain moving, her sudden panic at him letting her down in front of her son or something alike. He was about to shake his head at her, so she would understand he was not going to fail her, as freaked out as he may be, when the spell was broken by Jefferson's voice. "Hey Humbert! Long time no see!"

He exchanged hugs, handshakes and ridiculous fist-bumps with the guys, dropping the theatrics to say hi to Aurora and Ruby until he stood before Killian, patting his shoulder. "Good to see you, mate."

He smiled. "Yeah, me too, Humbert. How come you were late?"

"Had to drop some things on my way here, sorry for that. I called Emma so she'd let you know I'd be late, she didn't tell you?" Killian cocked an eyebrow at that; Swan hadn't said anything. Well, they had talked for barely a couple of minutes and he had been giving her his guitar, so there hadn't been a lot of time to spend chit-chatting.

Or telling him she had a son, for that matter.

Before he could answer him, a small body showed up in front of them. "Graham!"

He saw Humbert's face lit up as he ruffled the boy's hair. "Hey Henry! Missed you, buddy." The kid smiled broadly at him, obviously excited to see him. He wondered how well they knew each other and since when. "Me too!" Turning his head towards Swan, who had moved inside the room and stood beside Ruby and Aurora with her arms crossed across her chest, Humbert addressed her in a commanding voice.

"Now, where are my brownies Swan? Or was it a lie just so I could get here earlier?"

She laughed and shook her head at him, as if he were a child. Well, that wasn't new - they all were. "You _did_ drive faster after I mentioned those, huh?"

"I may have passed a couple of red lights...," Humber chuckled, a glint in his eye.

"You're impossible."

"But... - brownies." Point taken, Humbert. Were they _that_ good?

"And Regina's lasagna!" Henry piped in.

Humbert's expression turned pained. "Why are you all trying to kill me?"

"We brought popcorn too," Emma added with a chuckle at the dramatics her costar was pulling on them.

Graham's eyes widened, mouth agape. "You didn't. Henry, I thought you didn't eat popcorn after the incident."

...okay, now he was interested. Why would a ten-year-old not eat popcorn? It was one of the rules when watching a movie. You can't just enjoy a movie without popcorn. At least in his book.

"Do we want to know?" he cocked an eyebrow at Humbert, who shrugged at them and sent a pleading look towards Swan, asking for silent permission to share the story. She waved a hand tiredly at him, sighing, and Humbert grinned, knowing he had green light. "It was while we were filming - Henry was asleep and Emma suddenly had this urge to watch Ben-Hur." He paused and looked back at her, enunciating clearly every syllable. "_At midnight."_

Killian snorted. Typical Swan.

"_..._so we started watching it. Of course, it is nearly four-hours long, so two hours in, when the intermission came, she decided she wanted popcorn, so we started making it. As soon as the popping started, Henry's door bursted open and he came out, completely freaking out and yelling at us _'what is going on? Are you okay? I thought you were having an epileptic seizure!'_"

They all cracked up as the poor kid flushed, embarrassed. "It was terrifying! I was concerned!" Swan moved towards them, a hand petting his hair softly.

"Since when does popping remind you of seizures?"

He flashed her a challenging look. "Since when do you find koalas scary?"

Killian couldn't suppress his laugh at that. Oh God, this was golden. "You are afraid of koalas?"

She ignored him, mouth agape in shock. "HENRY! It was a nightmare! And you promised you wouldn't tell!"

"What? You embarrass me, I embarrass you!"

"I love this kid already", Victor muttered behind him to Red Lips, shoulders shaking while he laughed.

"I know right?" she answered.

The sound of clapping interrupted the mother-son face off - of course it was Jefferson, who had been setting the table along with Grace. "As entertaining as this has been, could we please start shoving goodies down our throats? I'm starving."

They all agreed and moved to stand around the long table, each one of them taking a dish and choosing to fill it with whatever they wanted. He noticed how Emma spied Henry from the corner of her eye, sending him a warning look when he attempted to fill it with crisps and pizza slices. He passed his mates until he reached her side, extending his arm in front of her, nearly grazing her as he reached for a napkin. "So. Where are the brownies?" he wondered aloud, startling her. Her eyes met his in a slightly curious stare. "You know they're supposed to be dessert, right?"

"I love it when you boss me around, Swan," he answered her, a small smirk ghosting over his lips.

She opened her mouth like she was about to retort before she snapped it shut, looking around her. Oh, right, she was probably checking who was in earshot - and if they were privy of their little dirty secret.

He had never been called anyone's dirty little secret before. Until now, that is.

"You'd better call me Emma when people who actually think we're together are around, you know."

"I noticed you called me Killian. It's weird," he said, his eyes lingering on her face.

She pushed some hair behind her ear, and he noticed how it was trembling slightly. "It is. Don't worry, you'll still be Jones for all purposes when we're not being heard or chased after." She met his gaze again, and he could see the same he had earlier: the fear, the rejection, the wariness. All because he had been caught with his guard down relating to her son.

He didn't know or understand why, but he felt irrationally mad at this. Dropping his dish on the table and doing the same with hers after taking it from her hand - a reproachful 'hey!' escaping her lips at the motion, - he tilted her chin up so she would meet his eyes. "I know we have a lot to talk about - we will, later. But we said we were in this together, didn't we? Or were you just bluffing?"

She held his gaze, green chasing whatever she wanted in blue. "No. I meant it."

He ghosted his fingers over the skin on her neck softly. "Then relax, please."

Not tearing her eyes from his, she finally nodded, and he had to smile when he realized the sudden dread and anxiety clouding them had, if not vanished, decreased. He dropped his hand from her face, immediately missing the loss of contact, and picked up their dishes, offering hers with a mocking bow. She rolled her eyes at him before taking it back, extending her arm to pick up something from the other corner of the table - and offering him a glimpse of the smooth skin on her back as her t-shirt rode up in the process, bringing back flashes of pale, freckled skin from the other day. He closed his eyes in an attempt to ignore his _very_ creative mind, nearly jumping in surprise when he found himself with a brownie mere inches from his face after he opened them. Pulling slightly away to examine it, he stroked his chin in contemplation. "I thought you said these were dessert?"

"Shut up and try it," she commanded.

"Am I going to experience a near-orgasm like you did in _Il Cielo_?"

She tapped his foot on the floor, impatient. "Do I have to feed it to you or what?"

One eyebrow quirked upwards, he grinned at her, his face coming closer to hers. "Did you just offer to feed me?" At her glare, he pouted. "You are no fun, Swan... _Emma_." He snatched the brownie from her hand and stole a last glance at her before taking a bite.

Oh God.

"Oh God," he moaned. She leered at him, pleased. "That good, huh?"

"Don't look at me. Shut up. I'm having a moment," he pleaded, still savoring the marvel that was the sweet treat she had given him. Jesus fucking Christ.

"I told you," Graham showed up by his side, biting his own brownie with a grin of his own. He glared at him accusingly, cradling the dessert in his hand as if it were some delicate china piece. "You fucker, and you kept this to yourself all this time?"

Graham lifted his hands in apology, though it didn't have quite the effect it should, as he was smiling like the Cheshire cat. "But I'm your Cupid, so _you_ should be thanking me."

"My Cupid... my ass. I won her," he stated, an arm snaking around Swan's waist to prove his point. He waited for the tension to overcome her body, but to his utmost surprise, it never came. And the fact that it felt _right_ to have her there was more than a bit unsettling. And terrifying.

"I'll have you know, I am no one's prize," she corrected both of them, narrowing her eyes at him with a pointed glance. Suddenly, Victor and Red Lips joined them and Victor whistled, gesturing towards Graham with a nod. "Yeah well, you won her but Humbert here gets to _really_ know her in that movie - if you know what I mean." His fingers tightened involuntarily at her waist and he saw from the corner of his eye how she looked up at him curiously.

"Subtle, Whale. Really subtle," he replied, disgruntled.

"I can't wait to see that, to be honest," Red Lips commented dreamily. No kidding. He was more than curious to see that too - if only to be able to laugh at her discomfort when he teased her about it. Not because he wanted to see how she would look in the rapture of passion, even if it was all a beautiful lie and in the arms of another man. Of course it wasn't that.

Humbert's voice brought him out of his reverie. "Oh hey, it's true! You're all coming, right? The premiere? It's next week, on Tuesday."

"Sure! It's going to be awesome." Red Lips was already squealing in anticipation, grabbing Victor's hands excitedly as he smiled at her in return.

Yep. He guessed they were going - he thought he remembered Gold mentioning something about this premiere not long ago... something about it being their first public appearance together as a couple.

Oh hell. It was bound to be epic then. What a circus.

"What's going on?"

Speaking of circuses.

They turned to find Henry standing with his lasagna filled dish, fork in hand and looking up at them with wide eyes. Swan - _Emma, _he corrected himself - pulled away from him, letting his hold on her go to come closer to the boy. "We were talking about the premiere."

"Awesome!"

"You're coming?," Killian thought he should start actually speaking directly to the boy - he was kind of growing a bit soft towards him already, if only for the stories he told about his mother.

Henry stared at him, if not a bit flushed - Killian shuffled a bit on his feet at the unexpected scrutiny under the boy's eyes, and wondered inwardly if Henry himself wasn't a tad uncomfortable around him after he had escaped right after they had been introduced. What if what Red Lips had told him was true? What if he thought he didn't like him or something like that? "Just for the movie - not the red carpet or anything. My mom doesn't think it's convenient for me. She knows I'll steal the limelight from her."

"Sure you do," she conceded, her eyebrows rising in amusement. Killian had to suppress a smile - her kid was just like her.

"Aren't there... ah... scenes that he shouldn't watch?" Victor piped in. God, was he still talking about that? They all glared at him, not knowing how to get out of that one. Swan looked ready to knee him in the balls, and Graham looked like he wanted to flee the scene. Unexpectedly, Henry just cocked his head at him, frowning. "Are you talking about the sex scene? She doesn't let me watch those. In fact, when we watched Titanic, she covered my eyes in the middle of the theater when Jack and Rose are in that car..."

"Oh my God," Swan hid her face behind her hands as Killian and Graham both started cracking up, holding each other nearly in hysterics. This boy was golden. Red Lips grabbed Henry's shoulder and pushed him towards the couch, leaving them to their devices - or giggling, whatever - shooting an apologetic smile towards her friend in her wake. Victor commented something about the premiere then to Graham, and trying to sober up after that laugh attack, Killian decided it was time to face the music. Taking her hand, he made his way to the door as she trudged behind him. "Where are we going?"

"To have that talk, love."

* * *

Of course they'd go to that room again. It was becoming their little haven for the most - not special, not significant, - maybe colorful memories in their acquaintance? Here he had bandaged her hand, given her his guitar.

Here he had freaked out because he had found out she had a son.

Closing the door behind him, he let his forehead fall against the wood with a quiet _plop_. He turned back slowly, resting his back against it with his arms crossed across his chest, staring ahead of him. She was standing mere feet away, her back to him and her hand nervously tugging at strands of hair falling from her ponytail. He was sorely tempted to tell her to let it loose.

He liked her curls.

"You know, this would go much smoother if we were looking at each other," he commented offhandedly. She tensed at his words, and with a sigh whirled to face him, mimicking his posture. "You're awfully chipper today."

He went straight to the point, not really wanting to banter their way around pleasantries. "I was not so chipper earlier, as I'm sure you noticed."

The air crackled with tension, and he half expected the hair on his bare arms to lift with the sudden pressure crushing them. Swan's face was a mask of uncertainty, and she finally let her hands cock her hips defiantly. "Yeah. What was that again?"

She was trying to blame him. Of-fucking-course she was. He mustered all the sarcasm he could into his words. "Oh I don't know. Would you care to explain why you never mentioned you had a son?"

"Weren't you supposed to know that already?," she replied hotly.

He lifted his arms in exasperation, waving them frantically. "Why does everyone assume I had to know?"

"Because it was in the contract?" He could almost hear her gritting her teeth. That must hurt.

"Do you peg me as the guy who read the whole contract?," he asked in a cruel voice. They could all admit it; he knew that most of them had thought he would be a failure after everything had gone awry, so why the hell were they all so surprised that he had let this slip?

She looked about to throw something at him. Something heavy. "And why in God's name wouldn't you?"

"Because I didn't care!"

"So you don't care about me?"

The silence that followed was filled with so much confusion, unanswered questions and surprise that Killian felt dizzy. Trying to clear the jumble mess in his head, he finally stammered, "_what_?"

Her face flushed, she teared her eyes from his, shuffling in her place. "That's not what I meant. And you know it." Raising her head up again and jutting out her chin, the defiance she was so used to wear came back. "I meant - if it were another girl, if you had to do any other thing instead of faking a relationship with someone for your band's sake - would you have given a damn about it too, or is it just because it is me? Did you hate me that much that you wouldn't even care about who I was or what my life was like?"

He could have sworn that the rage in her speech was laced with hurt, and he realized how that affected him. Leaving his spot against the door, he approached her slowly until he was standing right in front of her. "Swan - that's not it. And you know it. I told the boys already - I was just a mess at that point, you saw that. Fuck, everybody knew it, they all could see it. But at that moment they offered me the chance to redeem myself, to maybe prove that everything that I had broken with my stupidity and idiotic behavior could be mended." He stopped, holding her gaze intensely. "Thanks to you. So no, it wasn't because of you, it wasn't because I hated you - how stubborn can you be to think that? We may have not been on the best of terms but I most certainly didn't hate you."

"I hated you," she retorted, the broken look in her eyes betraying her. He had to smile at her, sorely tempted to go all _'aw, honey'_ and pet her hair lovingly.

"You keep telling yourself that, darling. We know you didn't." He dipped his head down slowly closer to hers and whispered in her ear, "and you know you don't now, either."

He pulled away just in time to see her shiver, which pleased him immensely - he _knew_ he affected her. As much as she did affect him. There was no denying there was something in there, even if they were more than intent on denying it. Whatever the hell it was.

She glowered darkly at him. "Then why didn't you even bother to read the contract?"

There he went.

Heaving a sigh, he looked pointedly at the ground for a moment before he met her intense green gaze again. "I was careless. They had told me I just had to pretend to date you; I had met you a couple of times, I just wanted to move on. I am sorry, and I want to kick myself for not doing it now - I looked like a complete dick earlier."

"That you did," she admitted. The way in which she said it, though - as if this was always his fault, - irked him, and the confusion and rage he had felt earlier came crashing over him. For once, he wanted her to hurt. To feel like she had failed for once.

_She_ had failed _him_.

"Yeah, and now comes the_ why the fuck didn't you tell me_?"

Her eyebrows flew up to her hairline in shock. Yeah, don't look so surprised, blondie. "Was I supposed to tell you?"

"Well, weren't we getting to know each other in that date? You have had plenty of opportunities to mention the kid."

"His name is Henry," she growled between clenched teeth. Oh, look, momma bear in the house. He glowered at her, narrowing his eyes. "I know that. Don't change the subject."

She let her eyes fall closed for a moment, a hand massaging her temple. "Why was I supposed to talk about him on that date? You chose the questions, and yet you decided to ask about stupid stuff instead of my family or something like that."

Was she actually _serious_? "Well, excuse me for not considering asking 'hey, by the way, you got any kids at home?'" He continued to heatedly argue, waving a frantic hand in front of him. "And yet I know he was the one who made you listen to our songs - for fuck's sake, he's even more of a groupie than Red Lips is! Why not mention it then? Or why not tell me that you were going to bring him today?"

"Because I was afraid, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?," she finally exploded, her hair flying around her as she yelled at him. Killian was so taken aback, he just stood there contemplating her breathing hard in front of him, her hot breath nearly burning him, they were standing that close.

"Why would you be afraid?"

She let out a dark laugh. "I thought you knew about him - fuck, it was in the contract and I, just like everybody in here, thought that _you_ had read about it, - and you never mentioned or asked anything remotely close about him, so I thought you weren't at all interested in meeting him or whatsoever." She paused, gasping for air in her tirade. "And the fact that you looked at him like he were your worst nightmare an hour ago didn't help, you know."

"I was surprised."

"You were freaked out."

She had a point. "Okay, I was. But - see? I am not anymore. It caught me by surprise."

She lifted a hand at him like she could physically stop him from keeping talking. "Look, I understand - but what I can't grasp in all of this is that if everybody knew, why in hell didn't anybody tell you?"

"I asked myself the same to them earlier. Apparently they seem to think I have some kind of issue with 'little people', as Victor so eloquently put it," he barely muttered, still annoyed at his friends.

There was a pause until her carefully guarded voice spoke up. "Do you?"

"No."

She studied him, yet even as he had fought to school his features once more so no one would find out what he was really thinking, she appeared to read right through him. "You're lying. They know you better than anyone and they wouldn't just omit this for the sake of it. You do have something going on in there."

He was more tired than annoyed at this point, all the fight seemingly leaving him, deflating him. "Look, Swan - whatever they might think, or you, it's fine. I told you we're in this together, so I am. I am going to do good with the contract, and I'm not going to hurt you or your son."

She froze for a moment, her stare still piercing him in a heated scrutiny, and her voice came up wondering and confused, like she was not sure why the last piece in a puzzle didn't fit when it was supposed to, being the last one left. "You keep lying to yourself, but whatever it is you have, you are not over it. I don't know if the rest do, but I can see it." She shook her head briefly, coming to her senses. "Anyway, it's fine. It's not like I'm asking for some fatherly figure for Henry, he's perfectly happy as he is."

He felt himself raising his head at that. "That's another thing. Where's the father? Should I expect some idiot punching me for stealing you away from him or something, or trying to fill his place as a father?"

He had hit a nerve. Most definitely. She had paled at his words, and she worried her bottom lip for a second so hard he thought she would draw blood. Not seconds later, she masked her features, exactly as he had done earlier. "No. You don't."

He just wanted to laugh at her face.

"Oh, this is precious. You act all high and mighty telling me about how I am clearly not over my issues and yet here you are, clearly not over yours."

She closed the space between them, a finger poking his ribs forcefully. "I just told you there's no father issue, and that's all you need to know. If you had read the fucking contract, you'd have known."

They both stood inches apart from each other, the air between them strained and full of rage and hurt and undisclosed whispers.

"So. I guess we're at an impasse, then," he muttered.

Her answer was breathless. "I guess we are."

He turned his head away from her, dropping his shoulders in a defeated stance. He rubbed his face tiredly and sighed before addressing her once more. "Look - I don't want to fight anymore. What's the deal now? It's just one more person to sell the story to."

"Yeah, it only happens to be the most important person in my life," she murmured, the broken voice back. He looked at her again, taking notice of the conflicted expression on her face. "You hate lying to him, don't you?"

"Yes," she whispered. She looked so lost at that moment, he couldn't help it: his hand came up and cupped her cheek. "Then why did you agree to this?"

She sighed, and to his surprise, leaned against the warmth of his hand. "I am still trying to figure out myself. Though I must admit, he is thrilled about this. He likes you."

He froze, shocked at that revelation. "He doesn't even know me." She smiled distractedly, probably picturing Henry in whatever scenario she must have conjured in her head.

"But he admires you and the guys. He is your groupie, remember? He even wants you to teach him to play the guitar."

Panic threatening to overcome him, he started to warn her, "Swan, I..."

She lifted a hand to his lips, stopping him from finishing his statement. "I know. I know you're kinda weird around kids or whatever - but, just for him, would you please try?" She dropped her hand slowly, her eyes nearly glazing as she requested this from him.

She was asking him to be somebody in her child's life. Maybe not his 'father' - of course not, but she wanted, for her kid's sake, that he stuck around, that he stayed close and acted like a friend, like family around them. And as much as he liked Emma - and Henry, for the little time he had spent with him – that scared the crap out of him. Letting yourself be close to few people in your life tended to do that to you, especially when you let those walls fall and end up getting burned in the end.

"You know this won't be forever, right?" he asked her in a low voice. He was terrified of the prospect of Henry getting too attached to him and then having to crush his hopes when the deal was done.

She nodded, if not a bit sadly. "I know. But even when it's over, we can all be friends, can't we?," she added, peeking at him under her lashes. He smirked at her, in an attempt to ease the mood. "Here I thought you couldn't wait to get away from me."

She poked at him, chuckling lightly. "Shut up." Before she was about to move away, he added as he studied her face intently, "he looks just like you."

"So they say."

"He has freckles."

"That he does," she laughed. Her expression morphed abruptly, her mouth forming a perfect _'o'_. "Wait... what..."

He dipped his head again towards her, suddenly turning in the last moment to purr in her ear. "I was kidding."

She pushed him off her as he laughed, shaking her head flustered. "For someone with kids issues you act just like one, you know." She kept pushing him along until they were out of the room, back to the studio. "Come on."

As soon as they were back, Henry caught up with them, an eyebrow quirked up at them and suspicion edged on his face. "Where were you two?"

"Uh..."

Okay, Swan, your acting must be A+, but around your own kid you suck at making up excuses.

"I was asking your mom about her plans for next week - with the premiere, promo and the album and all, I wasn't sure when we could see each other," he explained, looking at her pointedly. There, that hadn't been so bad. In fact, it sounded like something two people in love would say - without the whole _'but I miss you already,' 'no, you hang up'_ routine.

Henry seemed to think it was plausible enough, as he didn't press the matter further. Though he did catch onto something he had said which he found extremely more interesting than her mom and her boyfriend in dates. "Oh. You guys are planning the next album then?"

Killian nodded at him, a hand scratching the back of his neck nervously. "Yeah, we started writing two weeks ago."

"That's so cool! My favorite was the last one," he said eagerly.

He was quite the groupie. He was kind of fascinated with the boy - he was used to their audience being more around the teenage stage, Grace being the only kid his age he considered their fan. Of course there would be more, but they would never let a ten-year-old assist to one of their concerts. "Was it?"

"Yeah. I still have to make her listen to the two first ones, though - but I did show her the video," he said, signaling Emma with his head, who was standing beside them witnessing their exchange in silence.

"_Sinking or Swimming_?"

"Yep."

"Oh, I bet she loved watching me fight with Humbert," he said, spying her reaction beside him, smirk firm in place and waggling his eyebrows playfully. She cocked her head to the side, amused. "Sure. What girl doesn't enjoy two hot guys fighting over another hot girl?"

He laughed at her face "Your jealousy is showing, Sw - _Emma_." That had been close. "Anyway, she told me you wanted to learn how to play guitar?"

The poor kid looked like he was about to fly in his glee. "Yes! I know you and Philip both play, but I understand if you're busy or..."

He interrupted him before he could go on, noticing the doubt that had crept into his tone in his question. "No, of course not - I did start teaching your mother the other day."

"Mom! You didn't tell me!" he reproached her with a gasp, whirling on his feet to point at her. She glared at Killian before turning again to him, sighing. "Henry, I love you but I don't think you should be allowed to know every tiny detail of my dates, you know."

Henry scrunched up his nose, and Killian smiled to himself, as he had seen Swan do that too many times. "I don't want to know about your dates, I want to know about you playing the guitar!"

Whipping his head to the side, he saw his former guitar propped against the wall beside the couch; he walked back there, picking it in his hand and brought it to Henry, offering it to him. "Here. I gave this to her." The wonder in the boy's face was difficult not to admire. "Where did you get it?," he asked, awed.

"It was mine. In fact, I learned how to play with her back at home. I guess your mom and you can share it now?"

"Sure," he accepted it in his hands, cradling it like some kind of beloved treasure. That motion made him the more admirable in his eyes; it was difficult to part from her, as it had been his very first instrument, earned with work and sweat, but he knew it'd be in good hands now.

"Now you have to name it," he instructed him with a smile. Henry lifted his gaze from the guitar to stare at him confusedly. "Name it?"

"Yes. Naming your instruments makes them feel closer to you, so you share a special connection with them. You got anything in mind?"

Nipping his bottom lip worriedly, he turned from her mother to him. "Is it okay if I name her Tink?"

Gulping loudly, he tried not to show how much he'd have loved to think of that name back when he had first acquired it. "I believe that's the best name she could ever get."

Face glowing, he held the guitar even closer to his chest. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome," he acknowledged, leaving him playing lightly with the chords and turning to Emma's side, murmuring in her ear "See? I _am_ a gentleman."

"That you are," she conceded with a shrug. Her expression turned somber once again, her eyes nearly shining. "Thank you."

He tapped her nose playfully, as if chastising her. "You Swans, always thanking me, stop it." She made a face at him, snatching his finger in hers and scrunching up her nose in the same manner Henry had done minutes earlier, and he laughed even louder. Henry's voice interrupted them at that very moment.

"Is it okay if the wood has like - freckles on it?"

He saw the alarm on her features and the warning about to fall from her lips, and right before she could protest, he grabbed her waist lightly, coming closer to her and chuckling. "Swan - the rules are the rules."

He kissed her briefly, a quick brush of his lips on hers, - what Grace would have called a butterfly kiss. He winked at her as he pulled away and came back to Henry's side, knowing that behind him she'd probably be fighting the urge to kick his ass for using her own words the other day against her.

What he didn't know was that, apart from that, she was staring fixedly at him and her son together, bonding over a guitar, and a hand briefly caressing her still tingling mouth.

* * *

**_Heeeey there!_**

**_So I asked on tumblr if you guys wanted the chapter now because, for holiday purposes (feria, feria, ole ole!) (not really), I may not be able to update so soon next chapter - but, alas, you all voted to please upload now. I didn't know that cliffie had been that hard, lol! (yeeeah I am writing it. I have the answers. I UNDERSTAND DON'T WORRY MY BEANS I AM CRUEL AM I NOT?)_**

**_Things I have to address: 1) I was really tempted to name this chapter "What the fuck was that?" 2) Here we answer a lot of your questions - if the rest of the band knew, how come silly Killy hadn't known, why Emma hadn't said anything, etc. Hope it satisfies you, I had always planned like this. Funny thing is that something like this surely would have happened to me, I am *that* silly. *shrugs* 3) The fear-of-koalas fact is in fact inspired by my sister, who woke me up once when we were kids bcs she had had a nightmare with a murdering koala. She's still terrified of them 4) Isn't Victor the best shipper ever? I just love him._**

**_Anyways, hope you all liked it! Thank you so much for your insightful, fangirling, keysmashing reviews, messages and comments, they never fail to make me smile! And a huge thanks for Cee's kickass beta skills *mwah*_**

**_P.S.: Flo. Flo, aka my muse. Flo is everything. Flo, the ethereal elf and wild goddess. If you don't love Flo, you're wrong. Florence + The Machine made this chapter happen._**


	19. Chapter 19: Ready to Go

_**Disclaimer: None of this characters are mine. No Killian Jones, no Emma Swan, no Graham, no Ruby. Not even little Henry. Not even Grace. Nope. If they did, we'd all hang out and I'd probably spend my days staring at their prettiness and perfection. Sadly, they all are owned by Adam Horowitz and Edward Kitsis, along with OUAT. Bastards.**_

* * *

"Could you please stop shaking your head? I'm trying to work, you know."

"If you didn't play awesome music then I'd make sure to be more accommodating, your Highness."

"Oh, shut it."

Sticking out her tongue at her future sister-in-law, Emma held her head in place so her friend could go on brushing locks on hair and pinning them into place in a not-over the top though elegant braided up-do. She had pleaded with them to let it loose, but Mary Margaret had shushed her protests, explaining that it wouldn't show off the rather striking button and lace detail of the back of the dress if they did. She had grumbled a bit after that, but had complied in the end: it was fairly enchanting, if she said so herself. When Mary Margaret had brought the dress for her to try on, she had been mesmerized the very moment she laid her eyes on it: a gorgeous teal and lace gown, with an embroidered belt, cap sleeves and a long, flowing silk chiffon skirt. She had arched a brow at her friend then and asked about the color - she was more used to wearing red, black and white for public appearances. But then, there hadn't been that many of those, so she guessed it wasn't that weird for her to start dressing in more daring pieces.

She stared at her reflection in the large mirror in front of her, stopping herself before she started humming and lightly dancing to the song playing on her iPod, sitting on the speakers so all three of them could listen while they worked and dolled up for the show. The fashion brigade routine - minus Ella, who'd be joining them later - had been on full on swing since earlier that morning, her two best friends barking orders and throwing products at her to apply on her skin. Thank God she had had her outfit chosen for the occasion, - well, more like Mary Margaret had, - or they'd have another Majorica incident.

"What are you smiling at?," Ruby asked from her side, checking her lipstick on the mirror. She smiled wider, crinkling her eyes at her. "Oh, nothing, I was just thinking of that night in Majorica."

"Which one?," Mary Margaret piped in, amusement in her voice. Before she could reply, Ruby's snort interrupted them. "Like you remember all of them, sister."

"Ha-ha. Really funny."

Emma intervened then. "I meant the one Ruby threw half of her wardrobe off the window because she didn't have anything to wear." They all laughed while Ruby's cheeks flamed, even while she cracked up along with them. They had been sharing the same room in the hotel they had been staying in, and one of the first nights they were going out into the city, she had flipped out, no idea why - though Emma was pretty sure the copious amount of sangria she had drunk that day had had something to do with it. In her haste looking for 'the perfect outfit' she had ended up tossing every item in her suitcase out of the balcony, to her roommates utmost bemusement.

"You were lucky you got back most of your panties," Emma commented between giggles, recalling their embarrassment when they had to go downstairs to look for them.

"Yeah well, I didn't find my favorite ones, and the most curious thing is that the guys in the room right below us started calling me Dorothy since that night..."

Emma and Mary Margaret studied her with mirroring astonished expressions. "Dorothy?"

"The panties were The Wizard of Oz themed," Ruby shrugged.

"OH MY GOD." Emma's face fell on her crossed arms on the desk in front of her, her chortles muffled in her skin. She couldn't remember how many times they had told this story in particular, but she was fairly certain every time they did talk about it or that trip, new details came out, making it even more epic.

They should go on another one. Or go back in time and repeat it.

After she wiped away tears of laughter in her eyes, Mary Margaret snapped her fingers at her, all business. "Speaking of panties - Emma, it's time to cover that pretty ass of yours. Put on the dress."

Sighing on the bare skin of her arms, she got up from the chair she had been sitting on while her two friends worked on her hair and make up, slightly dreading the moment she had to wear the beautiful gown. Not because of putting it on itself - what if it didn't fit her after all those brownies and popcorn and goodies she had treated herself to since she had last tried it when Mary Margaret had first shown it to her? Was she being ridiculous? She probably was. Silly Emma, a couple of brownies won't ruin your premiere. And you didn't eat that many, you know - the Irish duo had made sure of that. They had devoured them as if it was the last time they'd be having brownies in their lives.

Speaking of the Irish duo, she knew Graham was in the suite next to hers - the whole cast attending the premiere and Sidney, of course, were in the hotel getting ready until the red carpet show started - and she'd probably be going with him or right at the same time in the same limo, as they were the lead cast. As for the other half of the duo, she wasn't sure when she'd see him, though she would bet anything Gold made them all show up at the red carpet, giving them the spotlight they craved - and wasn't that the whole point of the contract, anyway? She was more than glad to share the fair amount of paps and reporters with them if it meant there would be less of them for her to deal with. Just after she had lifted her arms for Mary Margaret to put the dress over her head and start fixing the buttons on her back, her phone beeped, her head whipping towards the sound involuntarily and getting a piece of silk in her mouth in the process.

"Don't even think about it - I'll get it," Ruby growled at her as she inspected her friend's work. She moved towards the desk and took the phone in her hands. "Why am I staring at a koala picture if I may know...?"

Emma wanted nothing more than to hurl herself off a cliff. "Oh God. I'm going to kill him," she moaned, itching to slap the bastard as soon as she saw him later. Mary Margaret's face was a mask of confusion. "A koala? But you're terrified of them! Who is it from?"

"It is from Killian!" Ruby laughed, amused. Emma shook her head, fighting the urge to cover her face with her hands, but knowing that all she'd get would be a yell from Ruby for ruining her make up. "Yeah, he's been texting me random koala pictures all week just to piss me off."

Mary Margaret looked utterly surprised at that. "How did he know you're afraid of them?"

"Henry told him the other day," she replied, shrugging.

She nodded then, her lips forming a silent 'o'. "Oh right. Henry told me about Saturday. He said he had a wonderful time. In fact, he did nothing but talk wonders about him and the other guys."

Of course he did. He hadn't talked about anything else after they'd come back from the studio. Ruby squealed from behind her as she fixed her red shirt and black skirt ensemble, "we did have an awesome time. Henry was in heaven."

"Yeah well, it was quite memorable," Emma grumbled a bit under her breath. Ruby looked at her, a pout on her mouth. "Oh, Emma, don't start. It wasn't that bad."

"What are you guys talking about?" Mary Margaret wondered. Poor girl, she had missed the whole thing. Lucky she was here today. Before she could explain, Ruby waved a hand and cut off anything she was about to say. "Killian found out about Henry's existence that very day."

"What? Oh God. Did he say something?"

Staring daggers at Ruby for bringing it up, Emma sighed and shook her head. "No, he bore it fairly well to be honest. We had a row about it but it all turned out cool in the end. Before we left he was even acting pretty at ease with Henry and all."

Mary Margaret looked at her, a curious glint in her eyes, and added, "oh, he did tell me about Tink."

Emma flushed, not really knowing why. Why was she, really? It wasn't a big deal. It was just a guitar.

A guitar he had given her and her son.

"Who's Tink?" Ruby asked, confused. Ha. Now it was her turn to be confused. She was the only one with all the answers! Mwahahaha.

_Yeah, girl, you'd better enjoy this cause you're not lucky enough to be privy to mostly anything, so don't get too used to it._

"The guitar," Mary Margaret responded lazily to the brunette, smoothing the skirt as Emma tried not to move or giggle as her friend's hands caressed her skin. She really was too ticklish for her own good.

Ruby's face turned awed. "Wow. He gave you guys his guitar? I thought he was just playing it for a bit." Emma smoothed her features as to not look too interested, feigning ignorance.

"Yeah, I thought that too when he showed it to me, but apparently no. He gave it to me."

"Huh." Emma dared to stare at the mirror, and seeing her friend's expression, her voice turned threatening. "Don't give me that look."

"What look?," she said with an innocent face. Yeah, that wouldn't work. She had gotten away with it too many times. She put her hands on her hips and tapped her foot.

"Your I-would-love-to-be-a-bridesmaid-at-your-wedding look."

Smiling mischievously at her, she went over where she stood and put her hands on hers. "Oh, but I am already going to be a bridesmaid at one of your weddings, am I not?," she said, raising her eyebrows at Mary Margaret, who kept working and double checking every tiny detail behind Emma and ignored her comment. Emma narrowed her eyes. "What am I, a scarecrow?"

Ruby's rich laughter rang in the suite. "We are going to be the hottest bridesmaids ever together, my love."

"You are changing the subject, but as you just called me hot, I'll let it pass," she said with a smirk.

"But you do look hot."

"If you say so," she shrugged, though every time the brunette complimented her, she felt like high-fiving a million angels. Mary Margaret, seemingly finished with her work on her back, came over to stand before her and smiled. "You really do, Ems." She turned serious all of a sudden, and Emma was suddenly afraid of the intensity of her expression. What had she done now? "Now, let's go over this: when asked who are you wearing?"

Oh. _Phew_. She was off the hook, good. She rolled her eyes at her and answered in a bored tone, "Jenny Packham."

She cocked an eyebrow at her. "And shoes?"

"Jimmy Choo." She didn't know why she felt like laughing every time she said that name - she found it extremely funny. _Choo. Shoo. _

The other girl clapped, elated. She patted her arm lovingly. "Perfect. Look at you, I'm so proud."

She gave her an unimpressed look. "Mary Margaret, you know I have to study by heart full scripts filled with dialogues, right? I don't think a couple of names are that difficult to remember."

"Let me have my little illusion that you became a fashion designer with me and we had our own line and all," she admitted with a dreamy expression.

She chuckled at that - oh, Mary Margaret. She was so full of ideas and optimism and sunshine and rainbows. How could someone be so... nice and positive? She had no idea. "If it makes you happy, then by all means, go ahead."

The three of them were interrupted when they heard a loud knock on the suite door; it opened a crack and a voice was heard from behind. "Ladies? Are you all visible?"

"DAVID, GET OUT OR YOUR EYES WILL BLEED TO DEATH!" Ruby roared.

"I am not looking!" he sputtered, nearly giving in and running from there like a bat in hell.

"I MEANT THAT WE ARE ALL LOOKING SO HOT YOU WILL PROBABLY DIE!" she continued, stifling a laugh and winking at Emma as she clasped a hand over her mouth to stop from laughing out loud. Mary Margaret sent them reproaching looks, as if she were their kindergarten teacher in the middle of telling them off for something. "David, you can come in and uncover your eyes, and please slap the silliness out of Ruby if you want to."

Ruby gaped at her. "He'd never dare - he knows I'd kick his ass."

David finally let himself in the room - if not a bit cautious at first, making sure they were all visible, though Emma was still not sure what he'd be surprised to see if they actually were. They had all been to the beach together, - and had been witnesses of more than one nip-slip here and there, - so what was the BIG deal? He joined them where they stood and, after kissing all of them on the cheek, addressed Ruby, smirking at her.

"Sure you'd do - but I agree. You three look awesome," he commented, impressed. Emma looked him up and down; yep, her brother was one fine piece of male. And even if men in suits and ties were not her thing, she had to admit they did look sharp in them.

"Why thank you, you're looking damn good yourself. Hopefully tonight someone will tear that suit to shreds. Meow," Ruby added, mimicking a claw with her hand.

The three of them made a face at her and exclaimed in unison like they had rehearsed for it beforehand, "ugh. Shut up."

Shaking his head, David checked his watch. "Graham sent me to ask if you're all ready, the car will be here in 15 minutes."

Emma's heart started pounding forcefully against her chest. Oh God, they were almost there. The yelling, the screaming crowd, the signing, the questions, the barked orders to look from one place to another, the movie...

The movie. Oh dear.

Right before her inner panic showed, Mary Margaret nodded eagerly at him and whirled around to check up on their things. "Yeah, yeah, just let me - where's the clutch? Emma WHERE IS THE CLUTCH?"

Let it to Mary Margaret to set things on perspective. This was silly, really. She cleared her throat and signaled to the bed leisurely, not two feet from where they were. "It is right there. Chillax woman, take a pill or something."

The poor girl put her hands on her cheeks, her eyes nearly shining. Jesus, she didn't want to imagine how she'd cope with her wedding day.

Crap, she was the bridesmaid, she'd have to take care of her not running away or something. She'd have to drug her or whatever. She made a mental note to discuss this with Ruby. "I'm sorry, these things tend to make me hyper."

"Well, I do know someone who can help you ease the tension...," Ruby commented whilst she put her things in her purse. Emma turned to her, a hand on her hip and pointing at her accusingly. "You've been spending too much time with Victor and Jones, I swear you weren't this bad before."

Mary Margaret perked at that, clapping her hands excitedly. How could she turn from workaholic to perky to moody in a span of seconds, she'd love to find out. God.

"Oh right, we haven't talked about this boyfriend of yours..."

David looked completely out of the loop. "Boyfriend? Wait - one of the band too?" Ruby glared at Emma and she put her hands in front of her like in defense - hey, it wasn't her fault. And she so deserved this after all the things she had let slip since this whole deal ordeal had started, she really had it coming.

Karma is a bitch, huh, Ruby? Yep, been there, done that.

"Hey, who said anything about a boyfriend? We are just... friends... who, you know, go on dates. Don't go all labeling my relationship," she tried to argue feebly.

That had been the weakest excuse she had ever heard in her entire life. She tilted her chin up, leering at her. "You just called it a relationship. I'll just leave it there."

The door opened again, stopping the discussion - for now - as Henry made himself at home, Daniel and Regina hot on his heels. As they all said their hellos and started conversation, her son run to her, careful not to wrinkle her dress. Aw - she wanted to hug him so bad, knowing that he'd been warned about it, and possibly threatened by his aunt. "Mom?"

"Hey! Oh God, you look adorable in that," she said, her hand clasping her mouth for fear of tearing up seeing him looking so handsome in his little suit. Was she hormonal or what? His eyes met hers in a defiant stare. "You know, 'adorable' is not what I was aiming for, but thank you, I guess?"

She laughed heartily at that. "You're too smart for your own good." She clasped his hand in hers and used her super-serious voice so he'd know she was not joking around. Not about this. "Okay, are you going to behave yourself while you're waiting for the movie to start?"

He nodded, all business. "Sure, I'll be with Daniel while Regina and you all are out there, just like the last time."

"Okay. And remember, if any reporter tries to talk to you...," she shivered just at the thought. It was her worst nightmare - her son being thrown into all this crap; even though she knew it would be impossible to keep him a secret forever - it was stated on her official sites that she was a mother but, as she hadn't been all too known beforehand, he had been mostly undercover if not for some lines thrown here and there in some articles, but no one had really asked about him, to her relief.

For now.

He squeezed her hand in reassurance. "I won't answer. Don't worry mom."

She felt the silliest urge to cry, but knowing it'd only bring admonishment from the fashion brigade for ruining her make up and worried questions from David and Regina, she tried to control her emotions for their sakes. She nodded quietly and told him, "I know. Come here, give me a hug." Not caring at all for the wrinkles and crushing him to her with all her might, she whispered in his ear as she passed a hand through his hair, "I love you."

He smiled as he let go of her. "I love you too. Have fun."

She let out a chuckle. Poor kid, he really didn't know premieres were a job, at least for her. She'd have fun at the after party, not earlier. "Yeah, I'll try." As he span around to leave the room, Daniel approached her, kissing her cheek in farewell. "Don't worry Emma, he'll be fine. We'll see you there when the movie starts!"

She patted his arm, a look full of gratitude on her face. He had been incredibly helpful with Henry since she had met Regina all those years ago, when she had first moved to the city. When she introduced Henry to her manager, they instantly bonded, and so did Daniel. He had been always more than eager to take care of him whenever David and Mary Margaret were busy and she had somewhere to be, and she could not for the life of her think of how to repay their kindness. "Thank you Daniel, you're a lifesaver."

As they both left with Regina - after she assured her she'd find her as soon as she got there in her car for the interviews on the red carpet - she was fishing out her phone in case she had gotten any other messages or calls - apart from the koala ones from Jones of course - when she heard another voice calling out to them from the doorway. "Hey guys. Time to go?"

She turned to see Graham, in all his tuxedo-wearing glory, waiting for them with an expectant face. She put her phone, Henry's drawing - she always remembered to carry it in any purse she was using - her keys and the lipstick Ruby had insisted she carried around (earning her a glare when she had asked what would she need it for if it was _'everlasting'_ or whatever it claimed on the box) in the clutch assigned accord with the dress and made her way over to him, telling him with a grin, "I thought you'd never ask."

He threw out his arm at her in gentlemanly fashion and she took it with a mock bow. As they left the suite, they heard Ruby yelling behind them.

"We're going to a premiere, bitches!"

"Did she just quote Snooki?," he asked her, his face a mix between bewilderment and shock. Emma should say she was fairly impressed - he knew who Snooki was? She did because Henry wouldn't watch anything other than MTV, but Graham did not have a music-obsessed kid at home.

That she knew of, that is.

She patted the arm she was holding onto with her free hand. "Don't even ask, just nod and look pretty."

"That's what I do best," he replied, amused.

"Of course you do."

Their eyes met and they both chuckled. They got to the elevators and, before they got in, he looked at her from the corner of his eye. "By the way, you look stunning, Swan. 10 bucks say Jones will try to whisk you away on the red carpet."

She flushed, not wanting to imagine what he would say when they met. Especially after their last encounter. "I see them."

* * *

The only thing that Emma heard when the limo pulled beside the sidewalk for them to walk out was screaming.

Like, _really_ loud screaming. How could they still have working lungs after that kind of yelling, for God's sake? She was a bit afraid she'd end up deaf by the end of the evening. She turned her head to the side to see Graham sitting beside her, tapping his hand nervously on his knee. Ah, she smiled to herself, so he wasn't as indifferent as he tried to make her think. Jerk. She bumped a shoulder with his so he'd look at her. "We ready?"

He cocked an eyebrow at her, surprised. "I am supposed to be the one asking you, you young amateur." She huffed, not really sure how she felt about being called an amateur.

Though she was, she guessed.

"Let's get this over with, shall we?," she murmured, smoothing the skirt while she waited for the door to open. His hand shot out to grab her arm, startling her. "You want a shot before we go out?" At her bemused expression, he sighed, like he was tired of having to explain every tiny detail to her. "For your nerves."

Shots. Huh. She'd chug a couple of those just to get her mind off everything, but she knew it'd only lead to trouble - she was more than used to blurt out things she was not supposed to when she drank, and if creating gossip drama was stupid enough, stakes were way too high now to even consider it. Though in her book this would come nowhere near to the real troubling problem if she did drink.

She'd want to pee all the time.

"Just get out, Humbert, there'll be plenty of those later," she told him, waving at him like an annoying bug. He just smirked at her, waggling his eyebrows playfully.

"I can't wait. See you out there."

Accepting the driver's hand to help her out of the car gratefully, the first thing she did was trot to the other side of the road to a group of fans who hadn't been lucky enough - or crazy enough to sleep in the street or whatever daring trip some of them had done - to get near the red carpet. She hugged, kissed, took pictures, smiled, accepted gifts and signed whatever they gave her - from photographs, random magazines, arms, and all kind of merchandising from the movie imaginable - the most fans she could until Regina, who had been waiting for her when she got there, dragged her to the actual red carpet. When she set foot on it, she felt like she had reached a whole new level of crazy, like she were in a video game.

In which the characters kept screaming at the player, but yeah, you get the idea.

She resumed her task at hand, asking for pens to sign, holding them in her mouth while she held out pictures from hand to hand, as she hugged and kissed her cast mates and crew when they passed behind her, also signing and greeting hysterical fans or going on to meet the reporters and photographers stationed along the carpet.

She much preferred to stay with the crazies, thank you very much.

Alas, not everything lasted forever. Waving at the shrieking crowd, - and, despite the ear-deafening danger they had exposed her to, - honestly sad to part with them, she followed Regina to the front of the gigantic cardboard poster of the movie where the cast was posing for the cameras. She made quick note of the tips she had gotten since she had first ever posed for any kind of photoshoot: keep your back straight, shoulders back, limbs relaxed, pull all body weight on one foot only, confident smile. And of course, as one really kind photographer she had met once had confided in her, the LA rule: hold your stomach in.

Surprisingly, what she feared most was blinking when the pics were being taken. That was just her being Emma, of course. Too many of those from her teenage years.

After trying each and every pose she could think of a variety of expressions, - _Emma! Don't look like you want to bite the photographer's head off! Smile, then turn serious, look at the camera, then to the side - gimme something!_ - and all the flashing was starting to give her a headache, she was more than relieved to see Graham, Sydney, Abigail and Anton, along with some other members of the cast, approaching her, as she heard Regina telling her it was time for cast photos.

These were fairly easier to have taken, as she was barely paying attention to the cameras - more like joking between each other, pinching each other's backs - well, at least Graham and her, - and Anton hugging her so tightly as soon as she saw him, he lifted her off the ground.

That'd make a beautiful one, to be honest. She was really tempted to ask somebody to email it to her when they were released.

They had to pose in little groups and duos after that, and of course she got stuck with Graham for a while - though she was for sure having much more fun than when she was alone. He made it that easy. He kept teasing her about how they should bet how long she'd make it without planting on her face due to the stupid Choo shoes - _"Choo? Choo? Are you kidding me?"_, - singing silly songs as the cameras yelled at them to look at them and, overall, making fun of the whole thing.

As much as she hated to admit it, she was having fun.

Regina showed up behind her unexpectedly, instructing her to move along so she could talk to the reporters who had access to the red carpet event. She took her hand reassuringly, smiling softly. "It's going to be okay, if there's something you are not willing to answer, you look for me, I'll be right here." She let out a breath she hadn't known she had been holding then - she really could count on her for anything. She was slightly inclined to hug her right there, but she didn't think she was up to being photographed in her smoking hot dress in the premiere of her big hit movie crushing her manager's bones in a hug.

That'd make one hell of a headline, though.

She trudged along the carpet, and Regina motioned for the first reporter she had to meet. She smiled, joked around, told them what to expect about the movie and answered, as Mary Margaret had drilled into her head, who she was wearing. She wondered absentmindedly if Graham and the other guys got asked these questions too.

The crowd kept squealing and howling every few minutes, and at that point Emma had already gotten used to the sound, not even bothering to consider what it'd be about - probably they got a glimpse of Graham or whatever, she knew she'd be like that if she ran into Beyoncé. Wait, was Beyoncé coming? Emma, focus, of course Beyoncé is not coming, she's Beyoncé!

She was talking to a rather fun guy from MTV who kept asking her the weirdest questions, - which was refreshing, why lie about it - when she felt hot breath tickling her ear and an amused voice purring, "hello, beautiful."

Not even giving him the satisfaction of looking his way, she kept talking to the reporter. "I'm so sorry if there's a leprechaun trying to ruin your interview, really - it's not my fault!" she claimed, putting her arms up in mock self-defense. He laughed good-naturedly, and held out his hand for Jones to shake. "It's good to see you, man!"

Probably tired of her ignoring him, he came to stand beside her. "It's good to see you too. Not funny business with my woman, though, huh?," he added, hooded eyes glued to her. Before she could protest, the poor guy was chuckling and waving a hand rapidly. "I'd never dream of it!" He then stopped and stared at her, waggling his eyebrows teasingly. "Unless she, on the other hand...?"

Emma saw the opportunity and tapped her finger on her chin. "Um, I'd have to consider it..."

Three, two, one...

"Oi! I'm right here!," Jones said, glowering at her.

Just in time.

She put a hand on his arm, smirking at him. "Shut up." He stared at her, a small surprised smile ghosting over his lips and arching a brow at her, intentionally looking at her hand. As soon as she was about to drop it - subtly, as to not make a big deal of it in front of the dozens of eyes probably watching - the reporter went on with the interview. "Now that you two are here, would you care to answer something for me?"

Uh-oh. Did he mean - the two of them? Was he intending to ask about their relationship? Personal details? She was not sure if she'd be up to any of that. Standing with him and acting as if they were more than friends or acquaintances was weird enough, and debating about feelings and liaisons with a complete stranger, as funny and nice as he were, wasn't her cup of tea.

Jones beat her to it, eyeing her from the corner of his eye as he answered with no doubt whatsoever in his tone. "Depending on what is it." Emma thought to herself that he looked pretty at ease meddling with the media. She guessed he had had time to get used to it in the course of their musical career.

The poor MTV guy looked apologetic, the micro in his hand waving in front of him frantically. "Oh, no, no, it's not like that, don't worry. It's a little game, like, I say two things and you two have to choose one of them. Would you be up for that?"

They both locked eyes for a moment. It looked harmless enough, she guessed - better than being bombarded about how sparks flew and whatnot. She shrugged offhandedly. "Sure, why not?"

He looked relieved when she accepted, and grinned excitedly at them, taking a card from his pocket and proceeding to read whatever he had written in there. "Okay. Then - now you're gonna be put on the spot! Here we go: Britney or Christina?"

"Britney," they both answered. She looked over at him, surprised, and he shrugged. Oh, this was going to be fun alright.

"Cat or dog?" Emma didn't hesitate, and he didn't either. "Dog"

"Beach or pool?" "Beach." Was it her or was he eyeing her...? God, was he thinking about the other day too?

"Speedo or trunks?" He seemed outraged by the question, exclaiming "Trunks!" as soon as he heard it. She followed instantly. "TRUNKS PLEASE. EW!"

The reporter laughed at their passionate reactions towards men beachwear and went on. "Bikini or one piece?" Okay, he was definitely eyeing her now, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Bikini," they echoed.

"Nude or PJs?"

"Nude." "PJs"

He turned to her and laughed. "Oh, Swan..." She pointed at him threateningly, a warning in her eyes. "Don't you even start..."

"Chocolate or vanilla?" "Chocolate," they agreed, and she swooned a bit, thinking of the whole Ben and Jerry's ice cream box she had bought earlier that week, waiting for mommy to finish him off...

"Jaws or Finding Nemo?" Woah, what a rude way to kill her chocolate-induced dream. Jones was all excited exclaiming, "Jaws!" just as she blurted, "Finding Nemo"

They turned to the other, aghast. He looked betrayed by her answer. "What?"

She huffed, exasperated. Had he always had to act like a kid - and not acknowledge the marvel that was Finding Nemo? "Come on, have you seen Dory? She's the best. And she can talk whale."

"But - Jaws!," he countered pathetically. Aw, poor Jones. He had nothing better to offer. At his dejected expression, she patted his arm with a smirk and turned to the interviewer again, waiting for the next question.

"This is the last one - free coffee forever or free music forever?"

She didn't miss a beat. "Free music forever"

"Is this a real question asked to a musician?," Jones mused aloud, arching an eyebrow at the poor guy, who only grinned wider at his words. Just to rebuff him, she addressed him again, "I was slightly tempted for a moment..."

He watched her intently, as if he were looking right through her, "you weren't because you don't drink coffee."

Okay, how the fuck did he know about that? She opened her mouth like she were about to continue arguing until she shut it in a frustrated huff, looking disgruntled. The MTV guy - she should really learn his name - interrupted their little eye-war then.

"Okay guys, you don't need those stupid online matching sites - we can tell you right here, you're made for each other. I wish you guys the best and hey, Killian - next time, I hope we'll be talking about your new album plans?"

Jones nodded, shaking his hand again brightly. "Sure, man. It's great to see you." He then put a hand on Emma's back and pushed her a bit to the other side of the red carpet, away of the paps and reporters. "So..."

"So...," she mimicked. She took a moment to check him out in his suit.

Huh. She was in no position to deny he was ridiculously attractive, but she had come up with the illusion that the rebel rock star attitude and attire helped with that - but who knew Jones could look right down sinful in that? Fuck him, really. It was not fair to look that good. _And_ sporting his trademark scruff. Really? She would bet anything he had been ready in half an hour, and here she had had the freaking fashion brigade dolling her up for hours to look like this.

Ugh. Fuck him and his genetic lottery.

She was brought out of her reverie as he asked her, "how's your day going?"

Really?

"Oh God, that was so cliché. '_What is a girl like you doing in a place like this?'_," she countered, eyes rolling to the sky. He didn't seem offended by her answer - in fact, he looked amused. He made a point of looking at her from head to toe, his eyes roaming over her body lazily in such a way that she was tempted to cover herself with her arms, a shawl, _anything_. "I'm sorry, I'm trying not to ogle you too much in that dress," he commented.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Stop it."

"Why? I'm just admiring my beautiful girlfriend." He stepped closer to her, his fingers ghosting over hers. "And I want everybody to know that she's taken, you see."

A flash behind her brought her back to reality. Of course they were being followed and photographed from every possible angle - no wonder he was trying to put up a show.

And why the realization that whatever he said - as complimenting her right now - was all for a show irked her, she'd never know.

"Oh. Right," she answered lamely, not meeting his eyes, afraid of what he could find in there.

"Yep. I hope you've rehearsed that smile of yours, I'm so adding points to that list..."

She frowned, suddenly recalling that list of his. "You're still keeping count?" He shook his head at her, smiling lightly. "Swan, why do you still doubt me?"

An unfamiliar voice called out suddenly to them. "Hey, guys - picture together?"

Emma felt like screaming at the camera. Aren't you snapping pics every two damned seconds, buddy? Why the fuck do you want more? She bit her tongue, suddenly enraged and not really sure how not to show it, ready to curl her hands into fists to stop herself from saying something she really shouldn't when she felt a hand grabbing hers, lacing their fingers together. Her pulse picked up in pace as she met his eyes, though he wasn't looking at her - he put their intertwined hands on her right hip, his arm circling her back in a tight embrace, her side pressing agains his. She fought to keep her expression neutral - and by neutral she meant the-least-freaked-out-she-could-muster. She was sure her hand was trembling inside his, but he held on tightly, not showing how unnerved she really was.

She belatedly realized, to her utmost surprise, that she was _extremely_ grateful for his presence at that moment. At her sudden realization, she looked up at him; he felt her gaze, and dropped his eyes to hers, a question in them. Before she could say anything, the same guy who had asked them earlier interrupted again.

"What about the whole gang? Graham, the band and Emma?"

She felt the loss of contact right as he dropped her hand, pulling away from her and searching for his bandmates in the smaller crowd roaming around the carpet. She put a hand on her chest, attempting in vain to slow down her racing heart, just as Regina brought Graham - well, bring was a good way to put it: she only had left dragging him by his shiny brand new tie so he'd get there in time for the picture - as The Lost Boys all greeted them and got ready to pose together. Graham was about to slid his arm behind her when Jones beat him to it right as he showed up at her other side. Screams were heard from every direction as flashes went off in front of them in a never ending cacophony slowly dizzying her.

Thank God she was surrounded by hot guys to catch her if she fell.

"Stop it," she growled to Jones as his hand moved lightly over the silky material of her gown, making her shiver. She heard Victor's voice beside him. "Guys, tone it down, we have an audience, you know."

Jones seemed absolutely outraged at that. "Hey, I'm being a gentleman, I'm just putting my hand on her waist - as _anyone_ would do! What's the matter?," he asked her, his forehead pinching in question.

Graham beat her before she could come up with something. "She's ticklish."

"GRAHAM!" Shit. Curse her luck, if the koala pictures had told her anything this last week, it was that he'd use absolutely everything in his power to make fun of her or tease her mercilessly.

"Humbert, I love you mate. Thank you," he chuckled at her side, flashing her an award-winning grin. She ignored him, huffing in frustration, and turned a murderous glance in her costar direction. "I am going to kill you, I swear."

He shook her head at her, patting her back warmly. "Emma, to be fair, he would have found out sooner or later."

"That I would have, cupcake."

"Sure thing, honey," she replied acidly.

Their conversation was cut off as Victor commented in a louder voice, addressing whoever was listening to them with a chuckle, "there's so much sexual tension here guys, I wish you could taste it."

* * *

"Swan, this is bullshit."

"What is?"

"There's no popcorn here. How can there not be popcorn?"

"It's a premiere, Jones."

"I don't care. It's law: movies and popcorn. Like fridays and pizza."

"Oh God, you're such a kid."

"Now you're getting the gist of it, love."

He had been annoying her since they had found their seats in the theater - to her chagrin, as she had believed he would be sitting with his band and not with her. Now she was squeezed in between the Irish duo - who had been exchanging stories nonstop since they had reunited, as if they had been separated for months instead of days - and the bastard had even stricken up a conversation with Anton, and they did seem like they were having a fair good time together. She wished she could have Henry sitting beside her instead of these two idiots, but he was with Mary Margaret and David, along with the rest of their friends and Daniel and Regina. She had seen him right before they entered, and had stayed with them for as long as they could, free from prying eyes and reporters, even though he had been more than happy to stay with them as he joined Graham and the band. He had run to Jones like he were one of those Santas in malls during Christmas, and she was more than amused to witness their new private handshake, which they had apparently come up with last Saturday.

Who had decided letting Jones join her and the cast in their seats, she'd love to find out. To punch them in the face, that is.

The lights dimmed, leaving the theater engulfed in darkness, only silhouettes surrounding her, giving the fake impression that she was sitting all alone in her place, a blanket over her and maybe Henry sprawled beside her using her legs as a pillow, about to watch for the first time the movie she had worked so hard for and spent so much time preparing for.

Reality was not so kind, of course, she grumbled to herself as she heard murmurs around her, quiet laughter, phones being turned off and heavy footsteps of some late spectators who'd surely been talking too much with the press and were looking frantically for their seats in the darkened room. Her breathing started to pick up in pace, coming out in little gasps as the panic started to settle in, the fear gripping her in a tight hold, not letting her go. She was about to turn worriedly to Graham, ready to beg him to tell her the truth - she had been awful, she knew it; Sydney shouldn't have chosen her for this role, she hadn't been up to it, she had been a failure to all of them and they should have picked anyone else instead of her - when a warm hand gripped hers. She turned to her left, and she wondered for an insane second how the fuck it was possible that his eyes could be so bright and alive even in the dark. "I know it's terrifying, but it'll be alright."

She hated how her voice was so small and fragile as she answered him. "How do you know?"

"I just do. Now shut up and enjoy the ride," he smiled, just as the screen turned to life and the mandatory ads kindly advised them to reconsider their current phone company. It wasn't until minutes later that the actual movie started, and Emma braced herself, ready to pray for the ground to swallow her in shame after it was done.

It wasn't until way halfway through the movie when Graham dipped his head towards her to comment the scene they were watching that she realized she was still holding Jones' hand in hers - well, he was holding hers. Or was it both of them? After she answered Graham, she settled in her seat and looked curiously at him, debating wether to ask him to let go of her or to shut up, as she was still rather on edge - she wouldn't be calm until she was out of there and had had a couple of margaritas, she suspected - and his warm hold was helping somehow.

It was unnerving to admit that it was the second time in the span of a couple of hours that she was grateful for having him with her in there.

She was fascinated to notice that he seemed completely entranced as he watched, his eyes not leaving the screen, and she was tempted to tease him about not needing popcorn to look that enchanted by the movie; but the wonder in his face halted her, not wanting to disturb the quiet peace he was experiencing. She smiled to herself, her body nearly going limp in a sudden relaxed manner as she came to admit a startling truth.

If Killian Jones could enjoy the movie, then it would be alright.

It wasn't until Emma suddenly recollected which scene was approaching in the near horizon and her body went rigid again that he came to his senses and caressed her hand with his thumb, pulling her closer to him as he whispered, "what is it?"

"Nothing."

He didn't look convinced at all, and she couldn't blame him - thank God he couldn't see her flaming cheeks or he'd give her so much crap. She spied Graham at her right squirming in his seat and she had to suppress a giggle. She saw him look at her from the corner of his eye, and she bit her lip, at what he openly grinned, shaking his head.

Right on cue, the actual, _very_ real and infamous sex scene took place.

She put her face on her free hand, not really knowing if she should laugh or die in embarrassment at the situation. And her son was watching this! Well, technically he wasn't, as she had made Mary Margaret promise she'd really cover his eyes. _Emma, stop. Emma, focus. Emma, look at you! You look great half naked, not gonna lie. Woah, that's a great angle. Though it wasn't comfortable at all. Stupid tree. Huh. Is that the face you make when...? Damn, Graham looks fine. Why the fuck does my hand hurt?_

She dropped her gaze to said hand to find Jones' squeezing it like he was trying to crush it; she turned to him, an eyebrow raised in question and about to clear her throat, maybe a sarcastic '_do you mind?'_ thrown in there, when she noticed his clenched jaw and gritted teeth.

Huh.

She squeezed back so he'd get the hint, and he jumped a bit on his seat, looking back at her with widened, bright and - dare she say it - lustful eyes. Oh, this was precious. Was he turned on? Nipping her bottom lip, she approached him lazily until she could whisper in his ear, "do you like it?"

He stared back at her, not a hint of humor in his expression, and she was suddenly afraid that she had pushed too far, that he had no idea what she was joking about. Just as she was about to ask him to forget it, a grin started spreading across his lips and he leaned over her, his eyes still catching glimpses of her and Graham on the screen reaching their peaks as he murmured back, "oh, I like it very much. Great material for my overactive imagination."

She really hoped he didn't notice her shiver, as the darkness surrounding them had done with her previous blush.

* * *

Emma was truly convinced she deserved this second margarita. Hell, she deserved ten more.

They had gotten an standing ovation when the lights had turned back on and they had had to go up to the stage to answer a couple of questions and greet the audience, who wouldn't stop clapping and whooping for a good five minutes, not letting them go back down. By the time she had finally been able to leave, Henry had nearly tackled her in his haste to greet her and tell her in between shrieks how much he had loved the movie - no kidding, he had just seen her mother sporting a sword, she knew he'd be elated by that, - and how she had been great in it and how Graham and her made such a good team and whatnot. She pulled him into her arms, the tension leaving her body as she held him tight to her, feeling inexplicably moved by his enthusiasm and his support. David came up to her then, his hand coming to her head in an overprotective gesture, and she welcomed his embrace, the sudden nostalgia of younger years spent together and his looming figure always watching over her. She pulled away, eyes shining and chuckling awkwardly at him as he pinched her cheek fondly. She was surrounded by her friends and family, all talking at once, asking questions and patting her back, congratulating her and her job. She was feeling pretty overwhelmed by the time Sydney also came over, asking her what she'd thought of the whole thing, - to what she was more than happy to describe every scene and tiny prop she had noticed and enjoyed, to which he just crinkled his eyes at her, amused at her enthusiasm. Anton showed up not long later, telling them to hurry up so they could all get to the club where the after-party would be taking place, and she had to say goodbye to Henry, who would be staying at Regina's that night - she wasn't that fond of parties, and she let them, 'the young folk', have their fun, as she always told her whenever she asked her to join them - as Mary Margaret and David would be going with them along with Ella and Thomas and Ruby, of course. Just as she was telling August to tell their cab to follow theirs to the club - Oz or something? she wasn't sure, it was Ruby who had gotten the name - when she realized that she hadn't seen Jones since they had left their seats. She twirled around, looking for him in the chaotic mass of people that came and went, until August told her, probably guessing who she was looking for, "he's smoking outside."

She couldn't suppress her eye roll. Of course he was. She told him she'd get him so he didn't stay behind, and picking the hem of her dress between her fingers so she wouldn't trip in her haste to the doors leading to the theater, she trotted in her heels, waiting to spot that disheveled mop of dark hair.

Finally getting there and letting one of the movie theater's employees open the door for her, she spied him at the other side, a nearly consumed cigarette dangling from his lips and - was that a book in his hand? She was about to call for him when she saw he was mid conversation with a leggy brunette, all smiles and fluttery lashes. She stood rooted to the spot, completely at a loss of what to do. What the fuck was he doing? Wasn't he supposed not to flirt with anyone? And in here, in a very public location so everybody could see him, not hours after he had been photographed with her?

Was he fucking kidding her?

Pushing a stray hair that had fallen from her up-do and hands shaking in anger, she was debating wether or not to go up there and slap the hell out of him until she saw the girl holding something in her hand.

A micro.

_Oh._

He was being interviewed.

Hanging her head down in shame at her sudden anger and rather fast disposition to jump at his throat at the first opportunity to fail her, she was already turning to go back in there - fuck it, they could text him or whatever - when she heard the girl asking him about her and how he had enjoyed the movie. She strained her ears to catch what he had to say - and why was she so interested in what he had to say, she wouldn't ask herself.

She suspected she wouldn't like the answer.

"She's something else. I have to admit I hadn't seen anything of hers until now, so I was even more amazed when I watched her in this. She steals the thing - Humbert is good, of course, but, she just, I don't know, she glows. I couldn't tear my eyes off her. She was amazing, and the movie is a marvel. I am really proud of them, and they deserve all the praise they are getting."

Slightly breathless, she left before he could see her standing there, and chose to ask August to call him or text him the location of the club, claiming that she hadn't found him out there even though she had looked for him. _Liar, liar, pants on fire!_

She _really_ hadn't expected that.

She drove with Ruby, David and Mary Margaret as the rest of the clique regrouped to fit in the cabs, and they had been the first ones to get there - Anton and Abigail had already been there, drinks in hand and ready to join the rest of the cast and crew, along with friends who had been lucky enough to be invited to tag along.

Alas, the second margarita in her hand.

The rest of the group had eventually arrived, - even Aurora had made it, clutching Philip's hand in hers and grinning madly at Emma,thanking her profusely for letting her join them that night. Emma couldn't help but smile at her, looking rather lovely in her lilac dress and squealing along with Ruby and Ella, clinking their glasses together. It was coming to be a great night, overall - they danced, they laughed and they took the silliest photos. The best one had to be for Jones, though - he still had the book he had been clutching when she had spied him - woah, spied? Yeah, okay, that had been spying, - and, at the nonstop teasing from his friends, he had caved and let them photograph him with it and tweet it to the masses, so "they'll see what a weirdo you really are. Bringing a book to a party!", as Jefferson had claimed.

It hadn't been until later when she had taken the book from his hand when her breath had stopped at the familiar cover and worn-out pages. "This is Henry's book!"

He stroked his chin, an uneasy look on his face. "Yeah, he brought it for me today. He said he would help me with an idea for the album."

She frowned, even more confused now. Wasn't the book about fairytales? What would Jones want to do with those? He took the book back from her and held it to his side in an overprotective manner, and she felt like examining her drink - what the fuck was going on? Was this real life? Just as she was about to ask the bartender what the hell had he spiked her margarita with and if it was able to make her hallucinate or something, Ruby grasped her wrist, dragging her and calling out for all of them to follow her to one of the corners of the club, where a couple of ottomans and modern leather couches were arranged, a fancy looking lower table sitting in the middle, where most of them left their glasses as they all tried to fit in the seats. She sat beside Ruby on the far left of the couch as she huddled right to Victor - ugh, if they started playing footsie she'd probably kick her out - and Jones sat on the ottoman right to her other side, not even bothering to hide his smirk at the face she made at him.

Make it double ugh if he tried to play footsie with her.

"Oh! Let's play a game!" the brunette suddenly cried. She stared back at her, unimpressed. "Ruby, you know we're not teenagers anymore right?"

"Speak for yourself - who do you think you're talking to?," Philip corrected her, laughing heartily and pointing at the bandmates, who raised their glasses in acknowledgment.

Graham chuckled and asked Ruby, "what game anyway?"

"No 'Never have I ever' please, I beg you," Emma groaned, slouching on the couch. Jones snorted. "So adventurous, Swan, please pray tell what would you play then."

"You two have the weirdest relationship I've ever seen," Graham commented, browns knit in confusion as he took a sip from his mojito.

Lucky for them, Ruby jumped in her seat at that very moment. "Okay, no, I got it! You guys know the name game?"

"...you mean the song?"

"No. It's like - I say some celebrity or famous, historic figure name - name and surname, of course - and the person next to me says another one, but this time the name must start with the letter of the surname I previously said. For example, if I say 'Hilary Clinton', now Emma should say someone whose name starts with C, like, I don't know, 'Claire Danes'".

They all looked at each other, considering the rules the brunette had stated. "Doesn't sound so difficult. Where's the drinking in there?," Jefferson asked.

"You cannot stop drinking from the moment your turn starts until you come up with one. And let me tell you - it isn't so easy; you get easily blocked in these things." She whipped her hair out of her face impatiently before adding, "oh, and if for a chance both name and surname starts with the same letter, then we change directions: if we were going right, then we go left, so if it was Emma's turn and she says one, it'd be Killian's turn again."

Emma turned her head towards Jones, rubbing her hands maliciously. "Oh, I like the sound of that."

He gazed at her knowingly, shaking his head at her. "You're so going down, Swan."

She put her hand on her chin, mocking a deep-in-thought pose. "I think I remember you telling me that once... oh right, that Gala, remember? Yet here we are."

"Sounds like fate," he commented, flashing her a grin.

Let the games begin, and all that crap.

Emma hadn't laughed this hard in ages. There were stelar moments during the game, especially when Mary Margaret had nearly cracked under the pressure and shouted "Winnie the Pooh" - though Jefferson, facing the same dilemma, had gone with "Windows Media" and his bandmates had cracked up so loudly, August had nearly fallen from his seat in hysterics. Jones had stated that they should add a bonus song in their next album titled the same way, in honor of that epic moment.

Emma was especially pleased to confirm that tipsy Ruby still acted the same way she had since she had first met her: trusting her implicitly, when sober Ruby knew she shouldn't. She was such a little shit when she could. So when the brunette's turn had come, and she wouldn't stop drinking - obviously she couldn't come up with any names starting with D - Emma had whispered in her ear "Diana of Wales." Her friend's eyes had shined in gratitude, and had yelled the answer, arms open gleefully. When all of them vetoed it, asking her for her real surname, she had sat there, frozen, and corrected, doubt lacing her words, "Diana... Di?"

That had been it for her, really, almost crying with laughter.

She should have known Ruby would outdo herself as she suddenly yelled, "wait, no! DRACO MALFOY!"

This only lead to a great discussion in which they voted for or against Harry Potter characters being accepted in the game - ending in a rather unsurprising bonding between Mary Margaret and Jones, proud potterfreak, as he had demonstrated in that interview in George's show.

This night couldn't get more surreal even if she tried.

Jones and her had been trying to outsmart the other to the point where their drinks would vanish in minutes. When the whole group grew tired of the game and they both claimed they were all ninnies, - their proud and competitive nature getting the best of them, she suspected - she turned to him, tilting her chin up in defiance. "Listen here, Jones. This isn't over."

"Of course it isn't, love; I'd beat you any day. Haven't you heard, Swan? I'm the drinker here," he said, spreading his arms wide in front of him, a smug grin plastered on his face.

She didn't know if she wanted to slap it or kiss it at this point, to be honest.

Woah. What. Had. Been. That? Emma, lay off the alcohol, you're clearly not thinking straight.

It didn't help that the last time they had been in a club, his mouth had tasted like liquor when they kissed and danced, bodies pressed together, breath mingling between them...

She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. She stared arrogantly back at him, narrowing her eyes. "Ha! You haven't seen me yet, buddy. Look: we'll settle this, right here, right now."

"How?"

"New drink, both at the same time. One gulp. The first one that finishes it, wins."

He whistled loudly. "Boring."

She had expected him to accept right there. Huh. "Drinking games for two people suck," she reminded him. He left his glass on the table sitting in front of them, shaking his head. "I wasn't talking about that: I meant, there has to be something at stakes here. I propose a bet."

She cocked her head to the side. He had certainly piqued her curiosity. "What do you want to bet?"

Graham, who had been sitting on Jones' other side, suddenly piped in, looking excited. "Oh, I have an idea!"

"Why are you even listening?," she questioned, all flustered. He shushed her with his hand, turning gleaming eyes to his friend. "Shut up, Swan - if she wins, you write a song for her next movie. If you win, she has to star in your next video."

The ones standing around them who had been listening let out an impressed - and overdramatic, in her honest opinion, - _'ooohh'. _Jones looked up at her again, his eyes winkling beneath his dark lashes. "I really like the sound of this. What do you think, Swan?"

She bit her bottom lip, considering her options. If she accepted, she risked having to star in his video - something that wouldn't be so bad, if Graham's experience was worth anything, - just, you know, having to work with him. If he had to write a song for her next movie she'd probably cry in hysterics. She would star in some lame romcom just to make him write something ridiculously cheesy, though she suspected he would find a way around it. He always did.

Suddenly that funny guy from the interview the other day came to mind - how he had asked if there was the slight possibility of her and Jones working together. She had the urge to look for him in the crowd and accuse him for somehow orchestrating all of this.

His voice talking right at her ear brought her back. "I know you're not going to back down now. Your pride is showing again."

Glowering darkly at him, she snatched the glass he was offering her from his hand. "Give me that damn drink." He chuckled, looking at her from under his lashes, and readied himself, glass on lips, patiently waiting for Graham's signal. The former stood in front of them, examining them both carefully, and held up his hand.

"One, two, three!"

Emma tipped the glass up, gulping as fast as she could, and in few seconds she could almost taste the sweet victory - apart from the liquor, that is - as she saw the bottom of the glass emptying at surprising speed until whoops and cheers erupted around her.

_Oh. Hell. No._

"And, ladies and gentlemen, Killian Jones wins!", Graham cried, raising his pal's arm in the air victoriously. She slammed the now empty drink on the table with a loud bang, eager to stomp her foot on the ground or huffing, but she knew he'd only find it even funnier, so she just sat motionless, a bored expression on her face, trying not to show how annoyed she was.

"Sorry, princess," he called out to her, sitting beside her. She flinched and growled at him, "I told you not to call me that."

"Hey, for what it's worth - you did pretty well. But there was no way you could beat me."

"Yeah, yeah, you win drunkie award of the year. Fan-fucking-tastic," she replied, not really excited at the prospect of him laughing at her for the rest of the night. She saw him looking around himself, apparently searching frantically for something. "What are you looking for?"

"Oh, I'm not letting this go - I want this signed so you can't back down! Anyone has anything to write on?," he called out to the rest of the gang. Philip signaled behind him towards the bar, "um... a napkin?"

He got up, took a couple of napkins from the amount they had stacked on there and came back. "That'd do. And any pens?" Emma shook her head - that was the shame of fancy clutches: you had no space for anything. Ruby searched in her purse, taking out her makeup kit. "I've got eyeliner..." Before she could finish, Jones snatched it from her hands and started writing on the napkin as they all looked curiously over his shoulder. When he was done, he passed her the improvised pen. "Here. Sign."

Brows knitting in confusion, she read what he had written and scoffed in annoyance. "This is the most surrealistic thing I've ever signed in my life."

"Are you sure about that?," he asked, a sharp edge on his voice. She swallowed thickly, memories of their contract blurring her mind.

The ridiculousness of it all hit her all of a sudden, and a giggle escaped her lips.

"I guess not," she conceded, holding the eyeliner in her hand and carefully signing on the rough, cheap material of the napkin. She lifted her eyes to find his impossibly blue ones glued to hers, not tearing them from her and a real honest smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Welcome aboard, Lost Girl."

* * *

_**Hi there!**_

_**Earlier than I expected, this baby was born - a really, REALLY big baby, may I say. Crap, I have no control left whatsoever over this. They just keep growing. Like gremlins. (Do gremlins grow? Ew, IDEK, I hated them. Yuck.) **_

_**Anyway, hope you guys liked it! Premiere madness! After party antics! Stupid idiots being stupid! The infamous sex scene with scruffy irish bastard #2! Drinking games! (THAT GAME IS ONE OF MY FAVORITES AND I SWEAR EVERY GODDAM TIME I SAY A POTTER NAME MY GUY FRIENDS TRY TO VETO ME. FUCKERS).**_

_**And if you guys know who the interviewer is, you get a cookie.**_

_**The dress that Emma is wearing is in fact based in one that Kate Middleton wore this summer - which was absolutely fabulous and I'd probably cry if I ever could even dare to touch it. Damn.**_

_**Thanks to Cee for being my ninja beta - I adore you. Also, my thoughts go to any of you or your families in Boston - be safe, please!**_

_**Until next update, dearies! *does the rumple* **_

_**PS: this chapter was written while "Stereo Hearts" and "Blame it on the Alcohol" played - along with many more, but those two were fairly on repeat... ;)**_


	20. Chapter 20: Run Boy Run

_**Disclaimer: None of this characters are mine. No Killian Jones, no Emma Swan, no Henry. No Marco's cooking. No chocolate dessert. Nope. If they did, we'd all hang out and I'd probably spend my days staring at their prettiness and perfection. Sadly, they all are owned by Adam Horowitz and Edward Kitsis, along with OUAT. Bastards.**_

* * *

"Oh, I like this one. But - C minor?"

"Yeah. Why not?"

"I don't know. If you're sure."

"Don't '_if you're sure' _me. I come to you with these things because I want your opinion, you idiot."

Killian scratched the back of his neck, waiting impatiently for his friend to finally let out what he really thought. He really enjoyed working with August, but his weird reverse psychology crap he was so keen on using was starting to get on his nerves. Why couldn't he just agree or throw the damn paper in his face? It wasn't that difficult. No, he would go and act all "oh, that's a great idea. But what do you really think?" And then it'd be Killian spouting new ideas until it'd either change the whole thing or add entire chunks of melody and lyrics to whatever he already had.

To be honest, it usually worked for them, but damn if it didn't frustrate the hell out of him.

August cocked an eyebrow at him, amused at his irritated tone. "Woah, someone's edgy." He shook his head lightly, a hand coming up to impatiently move aside a strand of dark hair on his forehead. "I am not, I just wanna hear what you really think."

The keyboardist mused for a while, his fingers rubbing his chin in silent reflection until he caved. "It's just - I thought it wouldn't be so conflictive? Minor tends to give this sad vibe."

Ah. So that was what had been plaguing him? "Well, the story gets a rather interesting twist, so I wouldn't say everything is rainbows and butterflies, huh?"

It really did. Apparently, Red Riding Hood's story didn't necessarily need to have a happy ending. Especially if she did eat her boyfriend, not knowing she was the wolf.

He hadn't been expecting that, if he were honest.

August inclined his head in his direction, conceding. "...you're right."

"I always am," he smirked, pleased. August chuckled under his breath, rolling his eyes at him. "And this is why I expect you not to come to me for help."

Killian laughed out loud, patting his arm fondly as he cupped the rest of the sheets and notes with his free hand, knowing he'd have to go over them in the next week and write whenever he could, apart from doing some research in case he needed it. "Aw, you know I need your expertise."

They were about to go over some of the lyrics they had revised earlier just in case when the door opened and August's father, Marco, came in, taking off his signature beret and left a pair of bags he'd been carrying on the table they had been working on. He smiled at them, his eyes crinkling and the wrinkles around them widening. "Hey boys. How is it going?"

"Hey dad," August said, getting up to help him fix whatever it was he had brought - from the smell of it, goodies. Dang, did this man know how to choose them. No wonder Killian came to his place whenever he could - every time he let Marco feed him, he ended up eating so much deliciousness he was afraid that all the blood would rush to his stomach and he would pass out at the table. He got up and clapped a hand on his shoulder warmly. "Hi Marco."

He kept putting away spices, packs full of meat and vegetables in their place as he looked over his shoulder at the mess of papers cluttering the table, a wondering expression grazing his features. "What are you working on?"

"Some ideas and lines for the songs, you know, for the upcoming album," August commented distractedly. Marco beamed at them, forgetting for a second the eggs on his hands and turning towards Killian. "That sounds promising. I can't wait to hear what you are cooking up here."

"You always get the scoop first, dad, stop whining."

Marco closed the fridge's door after setting the eggs in their place, looking over at him with a gleam in his eye. "I'm just proud of you, son."

Killian shifted uncomfortably in his chair. It was at moments like these when he felt his wit and rather charismatic facade failing him - especially when what he was witnessing was something so achingly familiar that it was painful. He'd give anything to have those words said to him by his father. All of his mates would complain about how Marco, - damn, even Gold - considered him and all of them as their 'sons', but he knew better. It would never be the same. He hadn't grown up with Marco, he hadn't learned from him the rights and wrongs of the world, how to become a man, how to charm a lady, how to nurse a broken heart, how to confront your mistakes and try to learn for them.

He had had to learn that the hard way. On his own.

Breaking away from his thoughts, he leaned on the chair and shot his mate an appreciative look, trying not to grin. "How can you not, I mean, he's to die for. You should see the ladies sighing for him."

Marco's face broke into a knowing grin. "Oh, I bet they do - he's my son after all." He then turned to him, one eyebrow quirked upwards. "But you cannot complain, huh, Killian?"

"No one is so proud of me ever, Marco, and you know it. I'm not the good boy around here."

Marco set a hand on the table right beside him, the other one pointing at him. "Oh, I know you can be naughty, but see? Now you got your head in the game and you look rather happy with that pretty blonde lady... what was her name, wait...," he mused aloud for a moment, struggling with his thoughts, "Emma Swan?"

"Dad, how did you even find out about that?," August asked, astonished. Huh. Killian had thought it would have been him who had informed his old man about the latest developments in his love life.

Or rather his _fake_ love life.

Marco lifted his hands in surrender, eyes widening in surprise. "Hey, I saw the picture the other day on my iPad when I was reading the news. I was curious. You two looked pretty sweet together. She's rather lovely," he added, eyes twinkling as he studied Killian. He nodded slowly, his finger tracing the lines on the polished wood of the table - Marco's work himself years ago, when he still worked as a carpenter. "Indeed she is."

"In fact, wait - I remember now why I found it so funny. Wait up," he suddenly got up and walked in long strides out of the room, leaving a rather surprised Killian and August in his wake. They both stared at each other curiously, until August turned conflicted eyes towards him, an apologetic tone clear in his voice. "I swear I didn't tell him. I still can't believe he knows how to use an iPad, to be honest."

Killian smiled at that. Yeah, it was rather surprising how a man who would normally function around hammers, saws, sandpaper and surrounded by sawdust would cave into such technologies. "I know, don't worry. Your dad thinking I am in a committed relationship doesn't worry me too much."

"And what a ride of a relationship. It's been already a couple of months since we signed that contract. Who would have thought you and Emma would become 'friends'," he commented distractedly.

Had it been that long? Huh. He guessed it had been quite a surprise that he and Swan had actually managed to get to where they were now - maybe not completely at ease with each other, maybe their ups and downs would always pursue them and even bite their asses at some point, their tempers getting the best out of them. But he liked to think they were past the pettiness and the ridiculous stunts. He liked to consider her a friend.

A really attractive friend he kissed in public every now and then.

"Who can resist my charm and devilish looks, my friend," he finally acknowledged. He saw from the corner of his eye how August shook his head at him, adding with a grin, "and here it is, the Killian Jones we all know and hate."

"You hate to love, I believe you wanted to say," he pointed out, smirk in place. As always. Before August could throw him something at his face for his non-stop stupidity spouting time out, Marco came back, iPad in hand and glasses propped up his nose, his brows furrowed as he tapped on the screen intently. "Here! I got it." He stopped in front of him, his voice turning cheerful as he proceeded to read. "The comments section -, the one with which everybody agrees is that, apparently, '_he is her lobster._'"

...his _what_?

"What is that supposed to mean?," he asked, outraged as he snatched the iPad from his hands and read for himself. What the fuck had a lobster got to do with him and Swan? Was it because she was named Swan? Why a lobster? That was beyond ridiculous. Marco kept laughing beside him good naturedly. "I have no idea but I laughed for a whole hour after I read it. Killian Lobster," he announced, waving his hand affectionately in front of him.

He groaned loudly, letting his head fall onto his propped arm on the table. "Is it so difficult to stick to the fairytale we're named from? Are they confusing me now with the damn lobster from The Little Mermaid?"

"That's a crab, not a lobster, you moron," August objected from behind him. He let his eyes fall close tiredly. "Whatever. I don't even want to know."

"You really cannot take a joke. Or a compliment, for that matter."

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips at that, recalling how he had told Swan how fetching she looked in her dress at the premiere - and how she had nearly bit his head off after he did. "You should see Emma, then. She _really_ needs to learn how to take compliment." He suddenly lifted his head and checked his watch. Uh-oh. He was running late. He got up hurriedly, taking his jacket from the chair and shrugging it on as he gathered up the papers cluttering the table in disarray. "Anyway, I gotta go."

"Where to?," his mate asked curiously.

He flashed him a smirk. "Wouldn't you like to know?" At August's unamused face, he desisted. God, did his friend need a break. Or getting laid. Or a drink. "Just to Emma's - I have to return something."

"Oh, okay. Say hi to both of them," he answered, waving him off as Killian made to leave. He nodded at August and briefly hugged Marco. "Will do. See you soon, Marco."

"Bye, son. Take care and next time bring your friend with you - I'd love to meet her!"

Great. _Sure, just let me convince my fake-girlfriend to do the rounds and come visit everybody I care for in my life._

Even with his shades on, he had to squint his eyes at the bright sunlight streaming through the glass while he drove, his mind bent on remembering the way he had made weeks ago to go fetch Swan for their first official date. He had promised Henry he'd give the book back that week, as he wanted to bring it to school to some class they apparently were talking about their favorite classics or stories - but after he was done with it, he had reassured him earnestly that he could have it back as long as he needed, which had made him smile at the insistent tone the boy had used. He couldn't stop beaming when they had discussed the possibilities of the fairytale characters being mixed with real life stories when they met, and was ready to add input and original ideas that Killian surprisingly found himself writing down in his worn out notepad where he scribbled the first lyrics.

The kid was pretty much into fairytales, to be honest.

He cursed when he nearly missed his exit, and carefully turning the wheel, giving the driver on his right an apologetic smile and shrug - thank God it was a young girl who flushed at him, he wasn't sure he'd be so lucky if it were some douche in a hurry who'd end up cursing his balls off - he finally found himself nearing Swan's place. It was a nice neighborhood, not too flashy or posh - it gave off this familiar vibe, a welcome stance, white-picket-fence and bright garden with a swing style.

It didn't feel like a bad place to settle down.

Spying the house ahead of him, he parked prudently by the sidewalk, picking up his wallet, phone and shades along with Henry's book before he got out and locked the car. Sprinting up the stairs leading to the front door and whistling under his breath, he wiped his brow of the thin line of sweat gathered in there - days were getting warmer, the promise of summer slowly creeping its way and engulfing the air around him, the bright colors and smells impossible to ignore. He inhaled deeply, letting it calm him - and why was he nervous, again? Oh, right, the silly possibility of being in her place put him a bit on edge, why not, carry on - and he finally knocked, expectantly waiting for one of them to let him in. He heard Swan's voice before she even opened the door, not even looking at him, as she was still screaming over her shoulder towards what he suspected it to be Henry's room. "Henry, I'm coming there now and you'd better have it tidied up when - Jones? what are you doing here?," she belatedly realized he was there, eyes wide and surprised.

How he loved startling her.

"Oh, how had I missed those legs of yours, Swan. Don't bother to cover them again, not on my account," he commented, eyes fixed on her form. Really, it had been too long since he had seen them. Never ditch those tiny shorts, Swan. Please.

She flushed instantly, and he noticed her hand gripping the doorway tensing as she narrowed her eyes at him. "What do you want?"

Huh. So she hadn't been expecting him? "Henry didn't tell you? He asked me to bring his book back - said he needed it for his class tomorrow."

She made a face at him. "He did? I guess he _forgot_," she commented, nearly baring her teeth at him. Woah, why was she mad? It wasn't his fault her kid hadn't told her he was coming by. He had just been following orders. _Her_ orders, in fact, when she had asked him to try to get on with him in the first place.

Though he hadn't thought it would be so easy to do it. He had found that Henry was a very sweet, fun young lad, and he genuinely enjoyed spending time with him.

"You're talking like he has some kind of secret agenda. I bet he wouldn't find it weird at all if his mother's _boyfriend_ dropped by from time to time, " he told her with a grin, emphasizing his title and waggling his eyebrows playfully. She didn't find it so amusing, or so it seemed, as she let her head prop against the doorway tiredly, a hand rubbing her temple. "Just what I needed - you around pestering me even more."

"I know you're giddy but you won't show it. So stubborn. Bad form."

Henry's voice came from the inside, interrupting them. "Who is it, mom?" Locking gazes with him, she nibbled her bottom lip and answered, "it's... Killian. He has something for you."

He could almost hear the boy's excitement from his place. "Tell him I'll be right there!" Swan sighed tiredly, opening the door wider, shoulders slumped as if there were anything else in the world she'd be doing rather than letting him inside her place. "Guess you should come in."

Shuffling awkwardly on his shoes, he finally got in after her and closed the door behind him, studying everything around him with a curious expression. It was all so... Swan. The pictures hanging on the wall, the photographs on the shelves, her bag slung on the hook beside the door and the scripts he knew she had neglected to read peeking out from inside a folder on the living room's table. The cream colored walls, the comfortable looking couches arranged around the low table. Even the spicy, soft smell that hung in the air felt familiar, he mused inwardly as he inhaled deeply.

Since when the hell did he know how she smelled?

Just as he was passing by her, he dipped his head and murmured against her ear lowly, "not trying to ruin your mood or anything, blondie, but I guess it's time for you to stop staring daggers at me. You know, just so your son doesn't get the wrong idea."

Lifting her chin in defiance, she pulled away from him and walked towards what he guessed was the kitchen, a warning glare in her eyes. "I will try. Just - lay off the kisses, will you?"

"As if you didn't enjoy them."

"Shut up."

He kept talking, relishing in the fact that she hadn't still punched him in the arm or tried to actively harm him in any way at his insistence. Yet. "I'm only saying to stay true to the character we should slip one or two kisses, just to be safe... come on Swan, you're an actress!"

Before she could protest, though, Henry trotted in, eyes shining in excitement and a grin almost breaking his face. "Hey Killian!"

He ruffled the boy's hair fondly. "What's up, Henry?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Nothing much - someone was in a cleaning frenzy and I had to tidy up everything in my room," he accused, shooting his mother a withering glare. Or what he considered as such, Killian thought.

Kids. He should get him a "_Learn how to threaten your parents and get your way out of anything 101"_ guide soon, or he'd have nothing to do with Swan. At his comment, she raised her brow challengingly. "We agreed to call it a room when it resembled something like it and you were able to find something in it without my help. So no - that was not a room. That was a pigsty, mister."

Killian witnessed the face off between mother and son bemusedly, noticing how similar they both were, hands on hips and eyes alight with both amusement and defiance. Not wanting to behold some fight between the two, he turned towards Henry. "Your mom is right though."

"I am?" Swan seemed absolutely perplexed at him. Her face was _priceless_.

He flashed her a crooked smile. Here was nothing. "I may be... a bit too organized."

Her eyes met his curiously. "Huh. Who would have thought."

Clearing his throat and tearing his eyes from hers at last, he held the fairytale book in his hand towards Henry, motioning for him to pick it up, giving him a grateful smile. "Anyway. Your book - thank you so much, it was really useful."

"Isn't it awesome? But you can use it whenever you want!," the kid piped in, hugging it mightily against his chest. Killian nodded, laughing in spite of himself. He _really_ liked this boy. "Sure, I'll ask for it if I need it - August was really interested in it."

"You showed it to August?," Swan piped in, confusion coloring her expression.

"Yes, I was at his father's place today. Sometimes we work there when it's the both of us alone, just to change the scenery. Too much studio lately," he admitted, thinking of how he had all but begged August to choose anywhere but the studio that day. As much as it was home, he _really_ needed a change.

She wiped a strand of hair from her face distractedly. "I see. He lives with his father?"

"No, but he visits him a lot. They're very close. And he is a master cook, let me tell you. Italian," he added, a smug tone in his voice.

"Oh. Wait - August is italian?," she asked, frowning. Confused Swan in the house. He had to admit it was amusing him to no end.

He shook his head. "No, Marco adopted him when he was a kid."

She scoffed under her breath. "Lucky him. Got stuffed with spaghetti and pizza since he was a child." He couldn't help but guess it wasn't just the possibility of their friend having had a more than fair diet throughout his childhood - just the simple fact that he had had the chance to have a loving parent for most of it added the edge lacing her voice.

And he silently wondered if he were one of the few who actually heard it.

"Mom, stop complaining, your spaghettis are amazing," Henry commented, patting her hand as he came to sit on one of the barstools standing around the kitchen. The small frown between her brows softened, and she smiled at him, pleased. "Thank you, kid."

"In fact - weren't we having pasta today?"

She nodded. "We are." He saw how Henry suddenly turned on the barstool, his eyes alight with enthusiasm. "You have to try it Killian. You're staying for lunch, aren't you?"

Huh. That he hadn't been expecting. What was he supposed to say? As much as he'd like to stay, he wasn't sure Swan would be too thrilled about the idea, and he really didn't want to make her feel uncomfortable. Their situation was complicated as it was to say the least, and he wasn't prone to breaking that fragile balance they had somehow managed to maintain. "Uh..."

Eyes lingering on him and studying him carefully, she finally gave a noncommital shrug in his direction. "Sure. You got any plans?"

His eyes sought out her green gaze, a small smile playing on his lips at her. "No. Just trying my girlfriend's cooking, I guess."

Not bothering to answer him - as always - she walked over to the counter and snapped her fingers in his direction. "Okay, then I guess that makes you my little helper."

He turned confused eyes towards Henry, aghast. "Your what?" Still not giving him any of her time, she kept barking orders at them over her shoulder as she pulled items from the cupboards. "Henry, you get the table ready and go back to finish tidying up your room, - Killian, you help me in the kitchen."

Henry rushed to his room after sending a reassuring wink in his direction and he approached her from behind, examining everything she had set out for them. Shooting him a questioning glance, she asked, "I guess you're familiar with everything around here?"

Typical Swan, assuming he'd know nothing of cooking. "Just order away, Swan."

"It's Emma, remember?"

"Old habits die hard."

He heard her sigh beside him. "I know." Shaking her head, she went on. "Okay. First we're having a salad and then the pasta."

"So fancy," he commented lightly. He couldn't remember when was the last time he had had two dishes for a meal he had made himself. She sent him a glowering glance. "I'm not sure I like that tone, mister."

He lifted his arms innocently. "I was serious. Even if I do enjoy a great meal, I am too lazy to fix something so... elaborate for myself. So it's either I go out to Granny's or some cheap thing. Or go to Philip's, August's or whatever."

She let out an amused chuckle. "And yet you don't gain a pound. Unfair. And for God's sake, it's a freaking salad, it's not that hard."

"Yet I see apples, chicken, nuts, cheese...," he countered, observing the food laying in front of him. What the hell did she mean to do with all of that? He saw her shaking her head exasperatedly, opening a drawer at her side and handing him a knife. "Just - do what I say. Let's start by peeling the apples."

They set out to work in comfortable silence, only occasionally broken by her slapping his hand when he went to bite a piece of fruit he had peeled and his answering grunt in protest. He went to take another apple then and found his hand holding hers, the apple inside both of them. A small smirk ghosting his lips, he met her eyes in a defiant stare.

"You're gripping my hand," she stated, as if he couldn't see it for himself. Oh, I do see it, Swan. And I do feel it, too. "I am not. I was gripping the apple."

A grin started spreading across her lips. "Isn't this that moment when in chick flicks, the guy and the girl crash in the supermarket and he helps her with her things and they both go for the same piece of fruit and suddenly they both lock eyes and fall for each other?"

"For that we'd need someone playing a Kenny G song not far from here," he answered with a smile of his own. "And besides - I thought we already were?"

She scoffed at him and grumbled something about how he'd better keep working. They set out an amiable pace, him following her orders and setting the peeled and washed vegetables in a bowl as she prepared the pasta. She even used him as a taster for the sauce when it was ready - which was delicious, though he had claimed dramatically how he knew she'd been trying to poison him all along - and he kept coming behind her to pick up rags, spoons and whatever he needed, feeling her stiffen as he did. "Don't even try."

"Try what?," he asked, unaware of whatever it was she meant.

"Tickle me. I'll use this knife," she glowered, the steel in her hand gleaming as she talked. He gulped loudly and talked in a louder voice over his shoulder. "Henry, your mother just threatened to kill me. Is this normal?"

"Oh, when it's about tickles, she is," he heard the boy answer in between laughs from the couch in front of the television, having finished his chores and waiting for them to be done with the food so they could eat together.

They were at last and set the different plates on the table, serving them in their dishes and filling their glasses. Just as Swan was about to sit, he went behind her and pulled out her chair for her, waiting for her to sit and pulling it back in under her flustered gaze. "Woah. That was stupidly gentlemanish of you."

"I don't know how many times I have to repeat you this," he commented with an eyeroll as he took his own seat and tried some of the salad, smelling cautiously the dark vinegar Swan had insisted in adding.

It smelled good.

It tasted awesome.

"You look like you're from some old movie where guys are super polite and refined," Henry piped in amusedly, fork stabbing pasta mercilessly. Killian shrugged at him. "Well, my parents really insisted on me being a young well-mannered boy. I guess it stuck." He felt Swan's eyes on him, and he met her gaze, noticing how her earlier smile faded slowly at his words. Oh, right - she knew about his parents. Why had he brought it up? Sipping from his glass to have an excuse in case Henry - or her - kept his line of questioning, he looked over his plate of spaghetti. "Aw. No meatballs? I really thought we'd keep it _Lady and the Tramp_ style."

It worked exactly as he had planned. A relieved smile replaced her wondering expression and she scrunched up her nose a bit. "Would you really roll a meatball with your nose for me?"

He inched closer in her direction, his face breaking into a playful grin. "You mean someone wouldn't?" She pointed at him with her fork, trying to appear threatening. Really, these Swans had so much to learn. "Shut up."

He sent her a wink. "As you wish."

* * *

"Okay, I gotta say that was a mean dish, love," he proclaimed, a hand patting his belly appreciatively.

"Thank you."

Henry got on his feet and rushed towards the fridge. "And now - dessert! I'll be back!" Swan's eyes turned a bit frantic, and Killian couldn't help but laugh at her expression. What had she done now? "Um... Henry... about that..."

"Oh no you didn't."

He saw her hung her head in shame, a pleading look stealing her features. "I'm so sorry."

Henry's whine carried to the table. "Mom!"

"Hey, we can have fruit instead," she tried to excuse herself.

"You can't keep having the ice cream all to yourself!"

Killian laughed heartily at that. She really was something else. What was with this girl and chocolate? "You ate all of the ice cream?"

She turned accusing eyes in his direction, crossing her arms over her chest protectively. "Hey, I was hungry and I was finishing my book and I needed cocoa comfort okay?"

"If it was comfort you sought, you could just have asked," he smirked at her, laughing again at her disgruntled expression. Shaking her head, she got up and walked to her son, a guilty look on her face. "Henry, I'm sorry. We'll go buy some more tomorrow."

The poor kid shook his head, his best '_what am I going to do with you'_ face on. "It's fine - but feel bad about yourself because you can't offer it to our guest!"

"I do. I really do," she admitted, nodding earnestly in his direction. Killian chuckled darkly under his breath as he came up behind them, carrying empty and dirty dishes to the sink. "Sure you do."

"Shut up," she growled under her breath. Henry, for his part, turned around and started tinkering around the cupboards. "I'll look for anything else here."

Studying Swan's guilty expression - and surely dejected because there was no more chocolate in the house, - he finished clearing the table and wiped his hands on one of the rags hanging beside the sink. "You know what - let's go out. We'll buy some more now and we can have it."

Henry's head whipped in his direction, eyes gleaming in anticipation and an elated expression, meanwhile Swan nibbled her bottom lip worriedly. "It's not necessary."

Ugh. He wanted to groan in exasperation. Why was this woman so goddamn stubborn? He was asking her to go buy some ice cream, not marrying him, for God's sake. "Sw- Emma, it's a beautiful day, and it's hot, and it's perfect for ice cream. So shut that pretty mouth of yours and come on."

"Yes! Let's go." Well, at least he had her son's vote. That counted, right?

She put a hand in front of her nose, as if going to pinch it. "Killian, I'm not sure..."

Oh, she was doing _the_ thing.

"Stop it," he told her seriously, pointing a finger at her. She frowned, confused. "Stop what?"

"You're touching your nose," he explained. She turned even more confused eyes in his direction, stiffening and rooted to the spot. "Excuse me?"

He waved a hand at her, as if he didn't know why he had to explain it in the first place. "Whenever you're nervous or don't know what to do, you hide your nose behind your hand and start rubbing it."

"I don't."

"Yes you do," he and Henry answered in unison. They looked at each other and shared a pleased smile until Swan's protest interrupted the moment. "Stop ganging up on me, you two!"

Praying to whatever deity who may be watching to give him patience and strength to deal with this impossible woman, he let out a growl, whirling around in her direction. "Okay, that's it: Henry, take her purse."

"Killian, I - WHAT ARE YOU DOING," she screamed as he roughly grabbed her by her midsection and threw her unceremoniously over his shoulder, carrying her and following Henry as he giggled on their way to the car, letting the front door close behind them.

"We're going out wether you like it or not. You should be thanking me, I'm bringing you to your one true love: chocolate," he told her, tightening his hold on her as she weakly punched her fists against his back.

"I thought you were supposed to be her true love?" Henry wondered aloud as he unlocked the door, waiting for him. A smile touched his lips at the boy's words. "That's how much I love her: I'm literally carrying her to her other true love so she can cheat on me. Love is pain, lad, don't ever forget it."

Henry laughed and got in the backseat. As Killian rounded the car so he could dump Swan on the passenger's seat, he heard her grumbling, "I'm going to kill you."

"Heard it all before, Emma. And still, here we are," he kindly reminded her, recalling the numerous times she had threatened him with taking his life. Just before he left her on her feet again, he added playfully, "and stop staring at my ass."

"I WAS NOT."

* * *

"See? That wasn't that hard. And now look: you've got your reward."

"Leave me alone."

"How do you put up with her when she's in this mood is beyond me," he commented to Henry as he sucked on his spoon. Damn, it was good - Henry did have a pretty mean taste for ice creams. The kid shrugged his shoulders lightly in response, a twinkle in his eyes. "Years of experience."

"That I believe," he conceded with a chuckle.

"Stop talking about me like I am not here!" Of course Swan wouldn't be okay with eating her ice cream, she had to pout and grovel like a child. He was torn between being amused and annoyed at her. He turned wide eyes towards her, as if it was the first time he saw her. "Oh look, Henry, she speaks!"

"A miracle!"

She crossed her arms against her chest - which would had served to her purpose of looking appropriately dejected if it were not for her chocolate ice cream and spoon held tightly in her hand like her life depended on it. "I hate you two."

"No you don't. We're your boys," Henry countered, making a face at her.

They stayed in silence for a while, enjoying the rest of their desserts and letting the warm rays of sunshine wash over them, the soft murmur of conversation of the other customers sitting behind the cheerfully decorated round tables around them soothing them and nearly making him doze off. He looked over at Swan, still concentrated on her chocolate except for when she looked around them, like she was expecting for someone to suddenly jump over them.

No one did, though.

"So. You didn't tell me about the after party. How was it?," Henry suddenly inquired curiously. They both froze and exchanged identical blank expressions. Were they supposed to tell him about the drinking game? Wasn't he too young to learn about those? Ugh, who was he kidding, he did't have a clue what kids were supposed to know or not. He'd leave that to Swan. She was the mother, after all.

"It was quite entertaining." Woah, smooth, Swan. Really smooth.

"Did Ruby do something fun?"

Killian stroked his chin in thought. "Fun as in..."

"As in New Years' Eve?," he asked to his mother, a grin threatening to escape his lips. Swan let out a peal of laughter and shook her head. "Oh. Not really. I think she was trying to behave so Victor wouldn't find out about those so early in their relationship."

Henry grinned mischievously. "He'll find out."

"Of course he will, even if I have to tell him," his mother scoffed. Huh. He'd better not cross Swan, or he knew what he could expect from her.

"What did she do?" he wondered aloud. If it was some Red Lips scoop, he was more than ready to hear. That girl was too fun for her own good. Swan let her eyes fall closed, still grinning at the memory, the sun lighting her skin and making it nearly glow. "Well, for this, you should know that Ruby and I possibly bonded because we are both really clumsy. _Really_ clumsy. We are always tripping and falling. Once, on New Years Eve, we had this silly custom of smacking ourselves in the back of the neck every time we thought we had said something stupid. I don't know what story she was telling about, but at one point she said such an idiotic thing - she smacked herself so hard, she faceplanted to the ground. I don't even know how she made it without a new nose."

He chuckled, trying to picture poor Ruby falling on her face in her high heels. "Red Lips is a box full of surprises, huh?"

"She really is. So - nothing interesting then?" Henry asked in between mouthfuls of ice cream. Swan shook her head, rolling her eyes to the sky. "You are so nosy."

So the kid wanted juicy stuff, huh? Well, he did have something of interest to tell him...

"Well, your mother and I had a little bet..."

He heard Henry's gasp and grinned inwardly. Got him. "You did? Who won?"

"I did," he admitted proudly, sending a wink towards Swan, who answered with a glare of her own.

And she liked to call him a _child_. HA.

Henry clapped excitedly. Swan was not lying when she said the boy was a ball of nerves out of control. "Woah. What does she have to do?"

"Do we have to talk about this?" Swan groaned as she rubbed her temple. Killian shrugged innocently. "She has to star in our next video."

"But mom! This is awesome! Now you can be a fairytale character!"

Huh. He hadn't thought of that yet - though he supposed she would when she starred in it. Despite having an idea more or less of the songs that would make the cut into the album, there were a couple of them which he hadn't shared with August or the rest, still waiting for him to tinker and play and develop - and he was pretty scared of knowing that one of them was really influenced by the blonde actress.

Maybe that'd be her story. And her video. Her chance to be the star of her own song.

"I don't know what you're talking about but yay, I guess," she answered her son, fake cheer laced with sarcasm. He addressed Henry with a shake of his head. "She hasn't heard about the album idea, that's just between us, lad."

The boy's mouth formed a silent 'o' in understanding. "Oh, oh, right. Okay." Killian turned then to Swan, noticing how she fiddled with the hem of her shirt and kept on nipping her bottom lip in distress. "But Emma, if it makes you so nervous, just think that you have time - there'll be no video until we've finished the album and we're ready to release it, so take your sweet time adapting. Just don't think you're getting out of this one. A bet is a bet, after all."

She whipped her head in his direction, her hair flowing along with the breeze, and he couldn't find it in himself to stop staring. At last, a grateful, tiny smile grazed her mouth. He sighed and decided it was time to change topics. "By the way, I read some of the reviews of the movie. They were very kind about it, congratulations."

"Thank you," she answered, a blush slowly creeping on her cheeks.

"Didn't you like it?" Henry asked him. He kept looking over at her, smirking lightly. "I really did. Though now I'm really scared of the prospect of your mother with a sword. Guess I won't be giving her any of those."

Before he could continue with some silly innuendo about the possibility of Swan and swords - the two words were so close, now that he thought of it - Henry bounced in his seat. Was he on a sugar high? "You should have heard my friends in school the next day with the pictures - all the girls wouldn't stop swooning over your dress, mom."

"Oh, Marco was showing me those this morning," he commented, recalling their conversation earlier that day. Swan cocked an eyebrow. "He did?"

"Yeah, apparently he had found extremely funny how someone had dubbed me_ 'your lobster'_."

Both mother and son broke into a fit of giggles, leaving him completely out of the loop. "What? What is it? You know what the hell that means?"

Henry got over himself first and decided to take pity on him and explain. "It's a _Friends_ quote. You know, Phoebe tells about how lobsters are supposed to mate for life and how you can see old couples holding claws in their tanks?"

Was he serious? Had they really compared his relationship with Swan as one between two lobsters?

Was he fucking serious?

"That's the weirdest thing I've ever heard in my life," he commented under his breath, still reeling from this new piece of information. He would have to watch that episode, if only to whine about how ridiculous it was to rate a liasion in such stupid terms. He saw Henry get up, claiming he was going to the bathroom, and spied Swan giggling silently beside him. "Swan, care to share what you find so funny?"

"I'm sorry, I just can't stop picturing you as a lobster," she admitted, still laughing at him.

Of course.

"If I am a lobster, you are a lobster too, you know, love," he told her with a grin, amused by her sudden giddiness. She chuckled. "Sure I am."

"Sure we are," he mimicked. He inched closer to her, slowly, coming to a halt almost directly in front of her. "You've chocolate on your face."

Her mouth dropped into a sudden frown. "Where?"

"Here," he said, his fingers tracing her cheek around the place where a smudge of chocolate covered her fair skin.

Or well, not exactly that spot. She tried in vain to clean it to no avail, turning accusing eyes in his direction. "You're leaving me with it so I look ridiculous."

"I bet even with your face smeared with chocolate you'd look lovely."

"Jones." Oh, threatening voice.

He leaned forward ever so slightly. "I'll help you only if I can kiss it away."

"What? No."

He shrugged, a hand going to her ice cream and dipping his finger in the chocolate under her outraged gasp. "Okay, then I'll just have to match you. We're lobsters for life, right?" He traced his lips and a spot on his cheek with his chocolate-covered finger under her scrutinizing stare and, at last satisfied with his work, stared at her, an eyebrow cocked in defiance. After a minute, she let out a laugh, and he felt like pumping his fist in the air in victory.

"Oh my God, you're such a kid."

"Yet you love it."

She gave him a calculating look, and leisurely started dipping her head towards him. "Here," she said, her hands coming up before her and wiping the smudge on his cheek. "We can't let this go to waste, now, can we?" Her eyes locked with his, and closing the distance between them, her lips caressed his in the most delicious way, her tongue coming out to swipe the cold ice cream on them in between lazy strokes.

Now free of chocolate, his lips quirked upwards at the sound of Henry's voice. "I leave for five minutes and you are eating each other's faces? Ugh."

* * *

"But dolphins are mean!"

"They are not."

"I have read articles about it - they are."

"Don't you mean they're incredibly smart or something?"

"Exactly - and if they are smart, the more chance they are mean and cruel. Seals, on the other hand, are hilarious and sweet."

"That's crap. I'm team Dolphin," Killian kept taunting her.

He heard her huff in annoyance in the passenger seat, holding her head high, a patronizing look sent his way. "You go ahead with your team, it's stupid, and when dolphins conquer us like in that episode of the Simpsons I'll scream at the top of my lungs how_ I TOLD YOU SO_."

Before he could even respond, Henry propped himself between their two seats, his hands gripping them as the car bumped slightly. "How about we leave it at Team Penguin?"

He looked over at Swan, who in return studied him and finally shrugged. Well. Penguins were kind of fun too. And adorable. And apparently they proposed to their mates by giving them a pebble.

How can you _not_ find that adorable.

Swan seemed to be of the same opinion, turning her head slightly in her son's way, arching an eyebrow at him. "That's not a bad idea. When did you get so smart, kid?" Henry flashed her a proud smirk, patting her shoulder warmly. "It was bound to happen."

Killian followed Swan's directions until they reached the house - Mary Margaret and David's, where Henry would be staying that night, as Emma had explained. Apparently he used to stay at their place some days during the week - not only did he thoroughly enjoy it, but it had become common practice since they had moved to LA and Swan's career started taking off that she'd need them to take care of him when she was busy. Red Lips and even Regina and her husband would be up to the task, of course, as they were all like a tight-knit family where they would put each other's needs before their own - or just a bit of good faith in order to help her.

He found himself extremely glad that she could count on such a group of people willing to fight for her, knowing what he did about her past before she had been adopted by her brother's family. As stubborn, impossibly proud and fierce as Swan was, there was this broken side of her, this vulnerability invisible to the eye that, if caught, made you ache to hold her, protect her and, most of all, make her _know_ that she was, indeed, protected. It wouldn't do anything for her if she had some silent, invisible guardian angel looking over her - she had to _know_ she was cherished and loved.

He stopped the car and looked over to the door, then stared at Henry through the review mirror. "Here we are. Hey Henry - I'll talk to you soon, okay?" He saw the boy grin widely, nodding earnestly as he picked up his things. "Sure! Bye Killian, I had a great time."

He couldn't help a grin of his own that crept onto his face. "Me too. Bye," he waved as the kid jumped out of the car in one fluid motion, and then addressed Swan, who was on her way to accompany him. "I'll wait here for you." She nodded and followed her son's steps, and he watched how Mary Margaret opened the door, inviting Henry in after hugging Swan tight to her chest and a brief exchange between them. He examined her carefully as she walked back, her shoulders dropped and her expression tired, gazing at her feet and hands inside her back pockets.

She was still beautiful.

Just as she was about to enter the car, he spied Henry peeking his face from behind the curtains in one of the windows, seeking his gaze and waving frantically at him. He laughed in spite of himself and commented kindly, "your son is the best."

That made her smile. "Thank you. I like to think it's thanks to me."

He shrugged, already starting the ignition as she sat at his right, ready to go. "Well, I see no father around so yeah, it's mostly you." A loud, ripping sound followed by an angry shriek interrupted him. "Fuck!"

"That didn't sound promising," he said, turning his head to see what the matter was. Oh-oh. He had to admit Swan had a point: she really was prone to accidents. Her shirt had gotten stuck in the space between the closed door and the car, ripping at the seams as she had moved to further enter the vehicle, leaving a large tear in the process at her side, exposing quite an amount of creamy skin. Good thing he couldn't see it, or they would have problems getting anywhere, him being the driver and her offering such distracting views.

"Are you fucking kidding me? I love this shirt!," she groaned, letting her head fall back to the seat defeatedly, a hand attempting to close the gap between the now two separated pieces unsuccessfully.

"And I sure love what's underneath," he observed, letting his eyes linger on her chest for a moment, feeling the intensity of her glare as he did.

"Could you please stop for a minute? Ugh. Fuck my luck. Seriously. I can't get a break."

"What is going on with you? You've been... jittery."

She heaved a breath and looked out of her window, her forehead propped against the glass, eyes unseeing at the blurry buildings they left behind in their way. "It's nothing."

"No it's not."

"Drop it," she insisted, her eyes squeezed shut and her hand going to pinch the bridge of her nose. He mustered every ounce of patience he still had left - it was startling how he was managing since he had started hanging out with this girl - and tried to reason with her again. "No. Come on Emma, I thought we were okay. We are friends, are we not? You can tell me."

He saw her from the corner of his eye heaving a breath. "I know. It's just - wait. Where are we going?," she straightened on her seat, whipping her head from side to side, trying to figure out where they were or what their destination was. He cocked an eyebrow at her, daring her to defy him. "To my place. You look like you need a break, and apparently you are in dire need of a new shirt or something to fix yours." He shrugged nonchalantly, as if it really didn't matter to him. "Or you can always go around half naked, which I'm totally fine with, by the way."

"Just drive, Jones. I hope you have something strong in there," she conceded with a sigh, and he could almost hear the smile creeping into her voice.

* * *

"Woah. You really are a neat freak."

"It's not that bad." Why did everybody tease him about this, for fuck's sake? He saw her let out a chuckle as she scanned her surroundings briefly - probably looking for whatever she could to make fun of him, or so he guessed. She went on, "no, really - I could probably scrub in someone on your floor and there'd be no risk of infection."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Ha-ha." Tearing his gaze from her amused one, he turned on his feet and strutted to his room, instructing her over his shoulder as he left, "wait here, I'll look for a shirt and I think I have a sewing kit around for you. Feel free to take whatever from the kitchen. Start the fun without me. You know. Like, maybe waiting for me without clothes..."

One, two... "Get out."

There she was. He suppressed a grin and motioned for his wardrobe, opening the wooden doors and rummaging between the clothes neatly ordered in the drawers and hangers, looking for something for her to wear. Settling on a blue plaid shirt he was rather fond of - and his mates liked to tease him about for wearing all too much to the studio whenever they had to rehearse or work, - he then went over to one of the drawers in his bedside table, taking out a sewing kit he kept in there just in case, and brought both of them back to the living room. He found her sitting on his couch, one leg bent over the other and pouring herself some juice in a glass, her other hand not even bothering to clasp her ruined shirt. He rose an eyebrow - she had made herself at home alright. He left his shirt at her side and the kit beside the juice box on the table for her to take whenever she wanted. "Here." She dipped her head in acknowledgement as she took a sip from her glass, and after swallowing loudly, got up and walked towards the kitchen. He raised his eyebrows in confusion until he heard the rustling of fabric and looked over the wall separating both rooms - hiding her form from his eyes as she changed. Sneaky. "Aw, aren't you going to put it on in here?"

She came back, now wearing his shirt, staring longingly as she fiddled with the sleeves, pushing them over her elbows nervously. "I miss the hoodie, to be honest."

Oh, the infamous hoodie. He still had it somewhere from when she had worn it. In fact, he hadn't even washed it - her scent still clung to it, and he hadn't found it in himself to rid it of it. No wonder he knew how she smelled.

_You're so fucked, Jones. _

Coughing lightly in order to change the course of his thoughts, he told her, "I asked Belle for one in a smaller size for Henry. If that's okay." He had guessed Henry would want one - he had marveled at the one Grace carried around in her backpack at her father's request in case she was cold, no matter if she wore enough warm clothes, and he had thought it'd be a nice gesture to get one for him. He was one of their groupies, after all. If someone deserved one, it was her kid.

She smiled fondly. "Of course, he'll love it." She leaned over the table, taking the glass in her hand again, the sleeves of the shirt hanging loosely on her slender arms, and he found himself studying her intently. "You look great in guy's clothes, I must say. Maybe you should consider modeling in them."

She snorted, nearly spitting juice in the process. "Yeah, right, I'd rather leave that to you."

"I'm not that good at posing," he admitted, lounging at her side on the couch and propping his feet on the table in front of him as she agreed with him with a groan. "Ugh, I know. I hate it."

He looked over at her curiously. "You do? Yet you make it look so effortless."

"That's the dress, I do nothing," she countered, annoyance creeping into her voice. He shook his head, frustrated: she really didn't know how to take a compliment. "Sure you do. I'd bet anything if you posed nude it'd be splendid."

"Did you just ask me to pose nude." She sounded absolutely astonished. He couldn't blame her. Why had he said _that_?! Apparently his brain and speech connection was failing him at the moment. He waved a hand at her briefly. "Forget it, I was only trying to ease the tension." He let his gaze roam over her features languidly. "So - what is it?"

He had to give it to her: for once, she didn't try to play it off as if she didn't know what he was talking about. She let her hands drop on her knees, one of them bouncing nervously in an unnerving rhythm which was tempting him to put his hand over it to stop the whole damn table from moving along with her tapping. She passed a hand through her locks, tugging at them anxiously. "Regina called and told me about a really important director who wants to meet me next week when she comes to town."

...oh.

"But that's good news. Right?," he questioned, not really sure of what he should say.

Lips thinning in a tight lipped smile, she chose that moment to take the sewing kit in her hands and open it, taking a needle and some thread. "Yeah, I guess it is, but I am nervous."

"You shouldn't be. If she has contacted Regina it's probably because she either has heard or watched the movie, so she has seen what you can do."

"But what if I am not what she wants?," she asked in a low voice, her usually soft features pinched in distress and the premise of threading the needle and tying a knot at the end giving her the excuse as to not look at him as she did. He leaned in and put a hand under her chin, his eyes chasing hers. "Emma. Come on. People don't seek you out just for the fun of it. They have seen something in you, so stop doubting yourself." He stopped mid speech and groaned loudly, a finger pointed accusingly at her. "Oh Lord, listen to me, I am being YOU. This is what you do to me, woman. Now I give pep talks. This is all your fault."

"You're not so bad at them, you know. Maybe you should start a reality show giving people advice," she commented, now entirely focused on her task, sewing the torn shirt now laying on her lap. He noticed how her demeanor had visibly relaxed, as if a weight had left her, breathing deeply and a lightness there that wasn't previously on her face. She jumped all of a sudden, hand flying in a startled motion to her mouth, sucking lightly on her finger. "Dammit. I've never been good at sewing." She took the kit again, looking for the thimble there, and put it on her finger, resuming her task, not even giving him a glance as she did.

Oh, God. She really was asking for it. Nipping at his bottom lip, he told her, "Swan, stop flirting with me so shamelessly, for God's sake!"

She lifted confused eyes at him. "What?"

He tsk-tsked, tearing his eyes from hers and dropping them to the thimble she was wearing. "You are obviously not so familiar with Peter Pan' story."

A frown marring her forehead, she stared long and hard at her finger, musing over his words. "Oh. Oh, you." She laughed then, a real, honest laugh, and poked him in the ribs playfully. "Just leave me alone! I have to fix this, I should as well not let the girls out."

"...the girls?"

"You know. The girls," she stated matter-of-factly.

He frowned. What the fuck was she talking about? "I'm so lost right now. Your friends? Red Lips and Mary Margaret and Ella?" She laughed again - and a corner of his brain acknowledged how this was the most she had laughed around him since, well, ever. Still chuckling to herself, she looked at him. "No. You know. Boobs. Girls."

His eyes widened in surprise and amusement. That he hadn't expected. "You call them the girls?!"

"Why can you name your penis but we can't name our boobs?" she called out, challengingly. He countered back, smirking at her defiantly, "How do you know I named it?"

She scoffed. "Please. Give me some credit. What is it?"

"Care to guess?"

"I don't even wanna imagine."

He lifted a finger at her, shaking it as if he were telling her off. "Uh-uh - that'd be Captain to you, Swan." He got up then, ignoring her disbelieving gaze, and stepped towards the fridge, searching for something light to snack. His eyes fell over a bowl of cherries he had acquired earlier that week in a market he had visited with Jefferson and had failed to try yet. Holding them for a moment under the running water of the sink, he washed them and put them on a plate, bringing it back to the living room with him and setting it in front of her, motioning for her to pick one. She was about to do just that when she stopped, her eyes closing briefly with a resigned smile on her features. "Oh. Great."

"What is it?"

"Sometimes the most random things come to mind, you know? I read somewhere about cherries symbolizing first love. Guess it stuck," she shrugged, passing it off as something trivial, when he could easily read her. She was thinking of that love they had avoided talking about in the date. They both had, really.

"I love cherries," he commented, popping one into his mouth, enjoying the fresh, ripe juice staining his lips. He heard her doing the same beside him, playing with the stem between her fingers. "Me too." Spying at her under his lashes, he added, "not so much their meaning."

She turned towards him, her smile fading slowly as she examined him, eyes searching. "Me neither." At that short moment of camaraderie, they found themselves relishing the comforting silence that engulfed them, until the spell was broken as she dropped her gaze to her chest, sighing heavily. "Um, where is the bathroom?"

He signaled with his hand towards the hall. "Second door to the right."

As she left, the soft sound of her footsteps growing lighter as she did, he let himself lounge on the couch, eyes squeezing tightly shut and a pang of dread creeping inside of him. What the hell was he doing? What was going on with him? Why couldn't he just keep it together around her? She was the first girl he had ever brought here alone since... well, since _her_. He still couldn't believe they were there, sitting and joking and making each other squirm under heated stares and veiled threats as they let their guards down. He sure as hell hadn't meant for this to happen, but the undeniable fact was that, yeah: he felt something for Emma Swan. Something as in, I still don't know if I wanna smack you so hard for being so damn stubborn or hear you talk for hours or fuck you senseless or smile into your hair as we watch a movie together or whatever it is that a man and a woman attracted to each other do.

And he still had no fucking clue what it was. Or if it was something good, for that matter.

Realizing that she hadn't come back yet from the bathroom, he got up to check up on her - not in a creepy way, just in an I-am-concerned-for-your-safety way of course - and saw her coming out and standing in the doorway to his bedroom. She leaned against it, her face breaking into a knowing grin as her eyes inspected the bed. "Oooh, look - where them all laid. And got laid. Where the magic happens."

He made his way to where she stood, letting his back lean on the other side of the door, mimicking her posture. "It can be pretty magical for sure. Care to try?"

Rolling her eyes, she 'uh-huh'ed him tauntingly. "I'm not to be another notch in your belt, Casanova. What about your past conquests, huh?"

A frown touching his lips, he leaned forward ever so slightly. "Swan, I'm not that fond of talking about other bed partners with my current significant other, to be honest. Rude."

"Even if one of them cornered her and talked shit about you?"

..._what_?

"What?"

Emma crossed her arms over her chest, jutting her chin out. "Brunette. Blue eyes. Fair skinned. Beautiful body. Sharp tongued. She confronted me in the club about you."

Was she fucking kidding him. Was she. He couldn't believe this was happening. A slightly shaking hand came up to cover his face, rubbing it in a frantic manner. "Wait - what? Why hadn't you said anything about this?" His voice was turning slightly hysterical, yet he could do nothing to control it. Not now.

Apparently she noticed the panic in his tone, as she dropped her teasing demeanor and turned bewildered eyes in his direction. "I thought she was an acquaintance of yours and that she had said something. She made it sound like it, at least."

The thought that _she_ would talk to him, of all people, made him almost cackle like a maniac. Maybe it wasn't her. Maybe it had been another random chick who had buffled at her, and poor Swan hadn't known she was at the time. "Wait a minute. Did she tell you her name?"

She groaned, covering her eyes with her hand. "Oh God. If you need to learn her name, that says something about you. I think it was Milah or something?"

Fuck.

Stiffening at hearing that name again, something gnawed in his gut as he tried in vain to picture both Emma and Milah in the same room, talking about _him_, and an hysterical laugh nearly bubbled from his lips. "And what did she say?"

She must have sensed his current state of distress, her features smoothed into a mask of coolness and control. "She asked about you and me, and how she didn't expect you to be in a serious relationship, because you were known for your 'whoring ways'."

Of course she'd say that. Go to his current rumored girlfriend, seek her out and confront her about his more than colorful past. As if it had been his fault how everything had ended between them. Blaming it on him. Accusing the way he had chosen to try to repair what she had broken. Straightening his spine and looking down at her again, he gave her a cold smile. "Well, for your information, we are not on the best of terms right now, so no wonder she made such a scathing remark about me," he said, not a hint of humor in his words or expression whatsoever.

She nipped at her bottom lip, probably wondering if she should add something or not. "She sounded hurt. Did you two have something?"

He gritted his teeth, glowering darkly. "Used to. Not anymore." He saw her from under his lashes tapping her foot on the floor, attempting to joke to ease the mood. "That's an understatement, honey. You're taken now, remember?"

Even if he appreciated her effort, he wasn't sure he was ready to quip and kid about it. Not when he had had to nurse a broken heart for months, nearly costing him his career, his group, his family. Striding into his room, he told her, "sure. Um, I gotta take care of something, would you mind? I'll be out in a minute."

"Sure," she conceded, shooting a worried glance over her shoulder at him as she left. He closed the door behind him, quietly making his way to the opposite wall and letting himself drop against it, sitting on the floor, legs extended in front of him and head hanging in defeat. It was funny how, after a whole day where he had believed how _maybe_, maybe if he dared, if he let himself open up, try, he would be able to go on. He knew he had gotten progressively better after the whole affair had taken place all those months ago, where he had ended up becoming a shell of his former self, broken and empty. No will at all.

Yet, since that fucking contract had made its way into his life, it seemed like a spark had ignited, lighting the way for him to follow to get out of that dark place he had found himself in - not only in his determination to work, his will power to get up from where he had fallen and stand tall and proud with his band.

Even in the prospect of letting himself _feel_.

Alas, it seemed as she would never get out of his system, his life, lurking in the shadows of his now crumbling walls - which he had carefully erected since their romance shattered to pieces. He gripped the hair at the nape of his neck in agony, a muffled cry about to escape his lips, when another sound caught his attention and he lifted his head to find Emma standing before him. His heart hammered almost painfully against his chest, suddenly afraid, angry, embarrassed and worried that she had had to witness him breaking down, losing it completely.

And now she knew the reason why.

Not tearing her eyes from his, she stepped carefully until she was right in front of him, and whirling around, she moved his legs with her foot, leaving a space between them. She sat then, to his utmost surprise, nestling herself against him, her back to his chest, the scent of her hair beside his face nearly overwhelming him. He was so transfixed - and confused - he sat speechless, not daring to say a word as to not break that heavily charged moment. His pulse picked up in pace, his arms at her sides clenching in tension, until he heard her voice.

"If you don't want to talk about it, it's okay. But you helped me when I was having a sort of a crisis. More than once now. This is the least I can do - especially if it's going to make you feel better about it, and help you in the long run."

That rendered him even more speechless. Lucky for him she couldn't see his expression, her head propped gently against his collarbone, her locks tickling the side of his face when she moved slightly. They sat silently for what felt like hours, their breathing eventually matching in pace, chests moving in unison and gazes following similar patterns around the room. At one point, she turned to her side, merely moving, her breath hot on his skin, and a shiver ran down his spine. He felt rather than heard her short laugh, and he finally broke the silence. "My mom used to tell me about how shivers meant that a goose was flying above the place where our future grave would be. Isn't it terribly poetic?"

"Aren't we learning morbid stuff today," she observed. He chuckled, the sound fading in her hair. He cocked his head to the side. "Cherries and shivers. Cool stuff, really."

She dropped her gaze to his right then, bringing his arm up in her smaller hand. "Yet I'd say a dozen gooses are flying above it right now, look at your hair." They both looked down at the dark hairs in his arm, still up, as Emma's fingers traced them lightly. She then turned it, showing the tattoo. He felt his hand clench into a fist, but she seemed unaware of it, her fingers continuing her perusal of his skin, tracing the lines of ink leisurely. "Is this why you asked me if I had any?"

"Maybe I was just curious," he answered.

He could almost hear the frown in her voice. "What is it about?"

He let his eyes fall closed, sighing heavily. Of course she had to ask. But he guessed he owed it to her to explain, at least something. "It's half of a whole."

"Does she have another cage?," she wondered aloud. He shook his head in response. "No. She has the key."

There was a pregnant pause in which she kept caressing the tattoo, until her head whipped to his, a frown marring her forehead. "That doesn't look fair."

Breaking from his thoughts, he brought his attention back to her, shooting her a confused look. "What do you mean?"

"I'd never let that happen - I mean, you basically gave her the power to hold you captive. Figuratively speaking of course. But seeing as you're crouching against the wall after I mentioned her name, I'd say it isn't so figuratively... it looks like you are still under her grasp. And I guess that's why you kissed me."

Still trying to come to terms with what she had just declared, and finding himself impressed with the insight she could find in his tumultuous past, he fought to clear the jumble mess in his head to finally address her latest statement. The kiss? "What?"

She turned again, evading his eyes, voice carefully neutral. "In the club. That's when I ran into her. You saw her didn't you?"

Fuck. Now she thought he had kissed her just because he had seen Milah? Of course she would think that. If he were honest with himself, he would think the same if it had been him in her shoes. He pondered for a moment, as he had done numerous times after that night - why had he really kissed her? He had long ago admitted he did feel attracted to Emma - and how could he not? She made him feel, - annoyed, alive, exhilarated, anxious, all at once, - she challenged him, she never backed down from a fight, she was fiercely protective of what she cared about. But he had already felt that way towards her before that kiss, hadn't he? So why had he acted on an impulse at that precise moment? Had it been just to spite the memory of Milah?

To be fair, he had no idea what it had been. A mix of them both: the hurt and desperation at realizing that the woman he had spent a year loving and who had crushed his hopes and heart was there mingling with the desire and affection he professed towards his partner-in-crime actress.

Bracing himself, his arms came around her softly. "Swan - Emma. I did see her, and I admit I sought you out maybe with the hope of her seeing us together, but it was not just about that."

"Oh, then I was a distraction, huh?," she questioned, and the hurt in her voice was palpable, making him flinch. He guessed that, no matter what she felt for him - in the case she even felt anything for him at all, - it wasn't really flattering knowing someone kissed you to spite someone else's love ghost. He poked her arm lightly. "You weren't. If I had wanted a distraction, I wouldn't have just kissed you, you know - or not even tried, knowing that you weren't the person to go for that. I admit I was a bit out of it, but you have to know everything isn't about my problems affecting whatever it is we have going on here." He paused for a moment, his head falling against the wall with a faint _plop_, all energy draining from him. "And if you're trying to start a fight now I'm _so_ not in the mood."

He felt her squirm between his legs, her back settling against his chest warmly. "Look, I get it. I don't wanna fight either and I understand if you're still hang up on her. She did a pretty number on you, huh?"

His throat constricted as he tried to form the words. "I gave her a choice. She didn't pick me." His whispered declaration still hanging in the air, he added as an afterthought. "And just for the record, you're the best distraction I've ever gotten."

They stayed like that for a while, nestling against each other, warmth seeping from one body to another in a not-real embrace, Killian's breath making the blond tresses of her hair flow in an hypnotic rhythm. He noticed how, at last, Emma brought her hand up, her finger gliding on its own accord in languid movements, drawing an invisible figure before her in the air. He followed her actions until she stopped and motioned with her chin ahead of her, as if the picture had somehow stayed in front of their eyes for them to examine. "Look: a hat."

He chuckled under his breath. Leave it to Swan to end up their conversation this way. "That wasn't a hat, that looked like a mushroom." She gasped, offended. "It didn't. Look: what is this?" She repeated her previous action, her fingers following another path this time as he tried to guess what she was attempting to draw this time. He cocked his head to the side, his eyes wondering. "A fork."

She turned to him, her face exasperated. "You're blind." He scoffed at her, bringing his hand up and taking hers down before she'd try to flaunt her poor drawing skills again. "You can't draw. Here, let me." He mimicked her, his hand in front of her gracefully mock-drawing in the air. "Now, what is this?"

"An umbrella," she answered instantly. He grinned, pleased with himself. "See? I can draw better than you."

He could barely hear her gritting her teeth in annoyance. Oh, that pride of hers would give her hell. Letting her hand free from his, she held it up again. "Nope. Here: what is this?"

"A swan."

"NO. It was a dragon! It's not _me_ not being able to draw, it's _you_ not having any imagination!"

He laughed in spite of himself, looking at her again, his eyes twinkling beneath his lashes as she kept trying to prove she were if not better, then equal to him, sitting wrapped in his embrace.

* * *

_**Hi dearies! Sorry for the delay but I've had quite the hectic week - but see, you get ginormous chapters in reward, so NO COMPLAINS. And after those sad three seconds of our poor pirate tied up and gagged yet AGAIN last sunday, I bet we all need fluff. And angst. And more fluff. And silliness. **_

_**So, tell me what you all think! :) and of course if you guys find any reference here and there, let me know, I love hearing from you getting them - or simply laughing at the stupidity of half of the stories thrown in there.**_

_**Special thanks to my beautiful ninja beta Cee and her glorious comments (OH NO YOU DID NOT and the like). Oh, and kudos to her and a guest unnamed who were the only ones who guessed that the interviewer in last chapter was Josh Horowitz, from MTV! I love that guy, he's hilarious.**_

_**Until next update, lovelies!**_

_**PS: "Hatefuck", by The Bravery and "Over the Love" by Florence+The Machine played during the writing of this chapter.**_


	21. Chapter 21: The Storm

**_Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or Once Upon A Time - the trolls Edward Kitsis and Adam Horowitz do. If I did, I'd make them canon faster than lighting._**

**_Preach, shipmates._**

**_Warning: rated M for a reason *Rumple's giggling*_**

* * *

"Is there a phone ringing?"

Killian pointed a threatening finger at Jefferson, sitting at the drums. "Stop interrupting - from the start."

Seemingly put out, the drummer looked as if he was about to throw his drumstick at him. "I'm not kidding - there is a ring."

"I think he is right," Victor piped in, cocking his head to the side. They all stopped in their tracks, looking at each other wonderingly, and Killian thought to himself how they all looked like idiots, standing there, waiting expectantly when they could use these precious moments to keep working.

Until, of course, a muffled ring was heard from the corner of the room where they all kept their phones.

Before he could even protest or try to ask them to please forget it and leave it ringing so they could go on, August signaled in his direction encouragingly. "Killian - it's yours."

"For the love of - okay, one second," he complained, throwing his hands in the air and making his way towards the _distraction table _and picking his own device, overhearing Victor behind him jesting to the rest of the band, "Jesus, let the workaholic pick it."

"Shut it, Whale," he growled over his shoulder, and at last answered the _very_ insistent caller. "Hello?"

A loud, shrill voice answered. "JONES."

With a flinch and even letting a bit of distance between his ear and the phone, he responded, "Swan? What is it?"

"Where are you?" She sounded positively crazy. What was wrong with her?

"At the studio, with the boys. Why?"

"Are you busy?"

He paused for a moment. What would she want with him? "You're scaring me. What is going on?"

He heard her let a nervous breath on the other line, and could picture her tugging at her hair. He knew she was. "I need a huge favor to ask."

"...okay. Shoot."

"Could you please stay with Henry today?," she begged.

_...what._

"What?" He really hoped his voice hadn't sounded as panicky as he thought it had. Apparently it wasn't so manly to shriek under pressure, or so he had been told. Though if they were competing for the most panicked and crazy voice and speech, Swan was _clearly_ winning.

"I'm sorry, I know this is completely rushed and out of the blue and you may be busy but I have literally no one to turn to right now, I swear I have no idea what to do - because Regina and I have to go, and Daniel is out of the city, and Mary Margaret and David have gone to check some thing for the wedding, and Ruby is with some client, and I can't get a hold of Ella or Thomas..."

He felt the need to interrupt her before she passed out in her haste to explain to him what the hell was going on. "Swan. Breathe. Please, calm down."

... a piece of advice which she clearly felt the need to ignore. Of fucking course. When hadn't she, for that matter? "...but I just don't understand: the meeting was supposed to be last week, but then she said it'd be the following because of some rescheduled trip and now she's here and she wants to meet me before she leaves and I can't say no, that's why I hadn't counted on someone taking care of Henry and I can't bring him with me..."

Let's try again. "Swan. I'll do it. Stop it."

"...and I can't believe this is happening I had it all under control but - wait. You will?," her voice turned disbelieving, and - dare he say it - full of hope. He tapped his foot on the carpet of the studio, rolling his eyes at her words even though she couldn't see him.

"Yes. Just drop him here - Grace is also with us, and Belle is around working on something so she can check up on them when we're playing. When we're finished with the rehearsal, I'll stay with him until you're done. Sounds okay?" It didn't sound like a bad plan to him. Even though he felt a bit squeamish at the thought of Henry and him spending alone time together - as much as he liked the boy, he wasn't really used to taking care of them unless there were more people around him. Except Grace, of course.

"Y-yes. It sounds great."

"Okay. How long until you two show up here then?," he asked, all business. Keep it cool, Jones. You're fine. You're cool. You're just doing her a favor.

He heard her fumble on the other side of the line. "Um, twenty minutes? I'll drop him off and have to go back and change and then I'll meet Regina to go and..."

Did she ever stop rambling? Shaking his head, he implored her, "Swan. Deep breaths, remember? It's gonna be fine."

She sighed. "Okay. I'll see you in 20."

"Perfect."

He was about to hang up when he heard her call out his name again, her voice barely a whisper. "Jones?"

"What?"

"Thank you."  
There had to be a first time for everything, he thought. Fighting off a smile, he answered before finally ending the call, "shut up, Swan." He stayed put for a second, staring at the screen, a strange feeling coming over him as he reflected over the last past weeks - he and Swan had established a sort of truce after that day out with Henry. Even if they hadn't been on bad terms per se for a long time, now they could admit the feeling went beyond politeness (polite?! When had their relationship been _polite_?! HA!) or the one between casual acquaintances to... something closer. Different. He had let something of himself for her to see - or rather, she had ran into him when it was out in plain sight; and he had been able to catch tiny glimpses of her most closed self here and there, making him yearn to learn more, to make her see that she needn't be so guarded, so bitter at times.

"What was that?," August's voice brought him out of his musing, and he turned around and came back to his place in the front of the band. He waved his hand offhandedly, as if it wasn't really important. Not at all. He was supposed to babysit Henry. No panic. No. What are you talking about?

"Emma has a last minute meeting with some huge director she can't ditch and she asked me to watch over Henry."

They all stared at him in stunned silence until Philip commented. "Woah. Good for her!" They all agreed, and Killian recalled her freak out over the meeting with this chick director. At least the contract appeared to be bearing fruits for them, that was for sure. "Wait - she asked _you_?"

Huh? Oh, right. He wasn't considered what one would call 'kids-around material', was he? Especially in Swan's eyes. "I certainly wasn't her first option, mind you, but apparently the only one left."

"This is taking quite the twist if she considers you babysitter material, certainly...," August commented, smirking at him from his bench behind the keyboard. Fucker.

He cocked an eyebrow at him defiantly. "Babysitter? Have you been around that kid? He's something else." August merely smiled back, shaking his head and sighing. "Well, there's no problem in him being here, right? Gracie is also around."

Jefferson looked personally affronted. "Of course not. He's more than welcome." Killian smiled gratefully back at him, and couldn't help but laugh at Victor's elated expression - probably scheming to make both kids seat together and play matchmaker with them. He was such a cupid, for God's sake.

"Perfect, then let's rehearse until he arrives and then we'll pick it up where we leave it when he's in there with Grace."

"Is he bringing that book of his?," August added suddenly, voice full of interest.

"I have no clue. But we can ask him whatever you want when he's here - I believe he knows every line in that book by heart." He really did - they had been discussing it that day at Swan's place and Killian had been most impressed with his insightful input concerning the characters and stories.

Not long after, his phone beeped again, and he knew it meant Swan was already there. Leaving his guitar propped on the wall nearest to the door, he called out to them, "they're here. I'll be back." He wiped his hands on his jeans and passed sweaty fingers through his hair, teasingly blowing Belle a kiss as he passed on his way to the front door of the building. As soon as he was out, an excited scream welcomed him, followed by a small silhouette running towards him with fast strides. "Killian!"

He ruffled his hair warmly when the boy came up to him grinning from ear to ear. "Hey Henry - the guys are waiting for you in there, and Grace is also in, she's looking forward to see you."

"Really? Me too!" Boy, did this kid look always so excited about everything? Huh. Nodding at the studio behind him, he patted the kid's shoulder encouragingly.

"Good - go ahead, I'll join you in a bit, I need to talk with your mom for a sec," he said, turning his gaze from Henry to his mom, now standing behind him, smiling down at him with an eyebrow risen in amusement.

"I'm sure you're now more than happy for David and Mary Margaret being out, huh?"

Henry beamed at her, bouncing on his feet. "Because I'm spending the day with Killian and The Lost Boys? Nah. I'd rather stay with you but what can one do?" He then came over to her and wrapped his arms around her in a tight embrace. "Good luck mom, you'll do great."

Killian tried not to intrude in an obvious mother-son moment, though he was finding it increasingly difficult not to spy out of the corner of his eye how Swan kissed the top of her son's face and whispered reverently back, "thank you. Now go. I'll pick you up later today. Love you."

Henry left in a haste, winking at Killian in his wake, leaving both of them standing in the parking lot awkwardly shuffling their feet, not really sure how to break the ice. Even if they had talked and messaged each other for the past few weeks, he was more than sure that she was recalling how the last time they had seen each other, she had been sitting with him, comforting him, laughing at their silly attempts of drawing in the air. He forced himself to finally meet her eyes. "Hey."

"Hey yourself," she answered, a hand coming up to wipe a rebel curl in front of her face.

He stared intensely at her for a moment, knowing that if he pointed out the obvious, she'd probably snap. Something that she really needed to do if she was about to go to that super special meeting of hers. "Swan - you're shaking."

Just as he had feared, she didn't disappoint.

She let out a sound between a growl and a whimper, a hand rubbing her forehead furiously as she started pacing in front of him like a lioness in a cage. "This is too sudden. I had already come to terms that either she had lost interest and that was why she had changed the dates, or that if there was a possibility, then the freaking meeting wouldn't be until next week - and I haven't properly rehearsed, or done research, or nothing!"

Okay, Jones. Deep breaths. Argumentative points. Reason. Make her see reason. With any luck, she won't punch you in the process. "How can you be so silly? Plans change, if this Mulan chick is so coveted as you say, no wonder she's coming and going all day. And I'll say the same I've been telling you through these two past weeks - if she asked for you personally, half the way is already done. Show her what you have. What you can do."

She let out an hysterical laugh in return, not bothering to even look at him or stop her constant pacing. She was making _him_ dizzy, for fuck's sake. "What _I_ can do? I don't even know what part she may be considering me for!"

Okay. That was it. He strode to her confidently, catching her upper arms firmly in his hands, not leaving her room to move. He was extremely tempted to shake her until she came to her senses, but came to the conclusion that it'd be a bit too much, so he chose to stare right back at her. "Swan, you're stressing _me_ out. Here, two possibilities, and you'd better choose wisely. I really hope you choose the first one though. It'd be really gratifying for you and I bet you've been itching to do it since we met."

She met his eyes with a confused expression on her face. Had she heard _anything_ he had told her? Note to self: short sentences, easy words for Swan when she's in a freaky mood. "What the hell are you talking about?"

His lips twitched. "First: you can slap me."

"What? I'm not going to slap you." That was a surprise. He really had thought she wouldn't even think about it and go for it.

"Come on, you're dying to do it," he tried to egg her on. The things one did for... a friend.

Narrowing her eyes at him and attempting to free herself from his firm grasp on her, she stated, "why would I want to slap you now? You haven't done anything for me to be mad at you! And I know that's a first."

Hilarious, Swan.

"Are you saying you'd rather go with the second option?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about but yeah, there's no way I'm going to slap you," she glowered darkly at him. He opened his mouth about to retort something witty at her, but ended up snapping it shut and shrugging lightly.

The lady had spoken.

"Okay then, freckles."

His right hand trailed from her arm to cup the back of her neck, pulling her head closer to his, not letting her go as she tried to push back. He sealed their lips, not daring to let go until she let out all that pent up frustration and anxiety she was carrying around herself. He felt her stiffen in his arms, her teeth trying to bite him seconds later - to make him stop kissing her or just to spite him, he had no idea, - until her arms came around him and she was responding with the same intensity he was.

He really had no idea what was going on anymore - his plan had actually developed into a quite nice make out session, mind you, but what did this mean? He pulled back from her and tipped his forehead against her, his fingers tilting her chin up so she would meet his gaze. He was more than pleased to see the blush in her cheeks, her breath coming out in quick gasps as he studied her.

"Now - go. And don't leave until you get that part, you hear me?"

She nodded. "Okay."

"It's going to be fine," he promised her, not wanting her to forget it.

"Okay."

"Call when you're done and we'll meet so you can pick Henry up." Was she even listening to him? Hum. He wasn't aware of the fact that his kisses could be so dazzling...

"Okay."

"Stop saying okay."

"O-alright."

_That_ was his Swan.

He gave her a little push towards her car - carefully, not wanting her to trip, as he knew she was a klutz. Even if she wasn't wearing heels, just in case - he didn't need her spraining an ankle on his conscience. "Go, you're going to be late. And wear something to show off those legs, come on. Even if it's a chick, who knows? Maybe she's into that thing. It can't hurt."

She scrunched up her nose in his direction and rolled her eyes. Typical Swan behavior. "See? If you'd said this earlier I'd have taken the slap."

"Sure you would. Bye, Swan," he smirked at her, waggling his fingers at her playfully. He turned on his heels, intent on entering the studio again so he could resume the rehearsal, when he heard her voice.

"No good luck?"

Killian turned his head over his shoulder. "What do you think that kiss was for?"

He got back into the studio, fighting the urge to look back at her and check her reaction. She probably would flip him the bird or call him names. He walked over to Belle and heard giggles and excited chatter from the adjacent room. "Those two already having fun?"

Belle turned amused eyes in his direction. "I didn't know he was going to be here, if I had I'd have brought Bae too and we could have had a party.

He lifted his arms in surrender. "Hey, I didn't know either - I'm doing Emma a favor." Huh. She was right, though - the only one left was Bae and they could have a mini Lost Boys groupies army. The idea was priceless.

"I know, I guessed it'd be that - not that I am less surprised for it, but you know...," she commented, her tone light and wondering. He let out a dark chuckle.

"I just love hearing how you all flip out when I'm being nice."

She whipped her head towards him, a concerned expression on her face as she took his hand in hers. "It's not that. It's the notion of you being responsible - around a kid."

"Yeah, I know. I'm no parenting material." No need to state the obvious, people.

She huffed in annoyance and let his hand go. "You're an idiot. Go in there and keep working, you lazy ass."

He barked out a laugh at that, motioning with his hand towards the studio in an accusing manner. "I am the lazy ass? You'd have to hear those four - wanna bet they're slouching on the couch since I've left?"

"I'd love to but sadly I know you're right - they were talking to Henry and Grace," she admitted, biting her lip in an attempt not to smile. He saw right through it, though. He groaned in exasperation as he trotted back to the room, calling over his shoulder at her, "for the love of... they'd better be talking about the songs or I'll have to kick their asses."

He was entering the room when he heard Philip's outraged gasp. "...but how can prince Philip die?!"

Oh, for fuck's sake.

He leaned against the doorframe, listening to Henry patiently explain himself. "He doesn't die, just - his soul is sucked by a weird dementor creature called a wraith. But don't worry - later on, his true love goes in a quest to save it and they get reunited."

Philip turned the worn pages between his fingers, examining closely the pictures and tracing them with a intrigued expression. "Huh. This is some strange book you got there, young man."

"I know, but it's cool."

Killian decided to make his presence known then, startling them as they all stared at him at the door. "The soulless thing is quite appropriate to describe some situations, though. In this case, when you give everything for someone - as the prince did, sacrificing himself for the princess - and maybe not getting anything in return. Until she sets off on her journey to save him, of course. If she does. At all."

August shook his head and pointed at him with his fingers. "I should have guessed you'd take the most morbid moments in those stories and craft them into hauntingly beautiful lyrics."

He shrugged. "That's why I'm the songwriter genius, am I not?" They all chuckled at that as he entered the room, going over to the couch and sitting beside Grace, kissing the tip of her nose lovingly. "Hey, princess. Will you take care of Henry while we're in there?," he asked her, motioning to her companion on the couch who kept studying them carefully.

She nodded eagerly, beaming at him. "Sure. But uncle Killian - when are you going to write a song about me?"

"Who says there isn't one out there?," he replied, cocking an eyebrow at her.

There was a loud gasp. "There is?"

Oh, he loved playing with her like this. He grinned at her, his hand going to caress her hazel curls as he answered. "I don't know. Maybe I'm planning one for you two. Maybe you'll be fighting dragons and saving each other in some faraway land." At that, Henry's face lit up, looking absolutely elated at the prospect of being a character in one of their songs. Grace took his hand in hers and they both squealed, the rest of the band laughing around them at their obvious enthusiasm.

Grace turned back to him again. "You'll let me know if you do?"

"Of course I will. Now, we have to play for a little bit - but we'll be back and we'll all have lunch together," he conceded. He got up, motioning for the rest of the guys to follow him inside the studio. He heard Henry's voice as he was about to leave.

"Are we staying later here until my mom comes back for me?"

He turned, shrugging. "I don't know yet, we'll see later. You okay with that, lad?"

"Sure!" Killian thought that he could promise they'd be the whole day staring at nothing and Henry would be okay with it.

Exactly like his mother, huh.

"Perfect. Don't cause too much havoc, you two, or Belle will have to let the beast out," he threatened them, not tearing his eyes from theirs in warning. Just as he left, he heard Henry whispering to Grace, "is the beast supposed to be Mr. Gold?"

Killian couldn't suppress his laugh. "You don't want to be threatened with that cane, lad. Believe me."

* * *

"But they really do end up together?"

Henry nodded as he finished his fries. "They do. At least that's what they imply. Who would have thought, right?"

Victor stared ahead of him, his gaze not really focused on anything, Killian was sure of it. "Huh. Red Riding Hood and Frankenstein. Where did you get this book again?"

"My aunt gave it to me a couple of years ago."

Killian looked over at him curiously. "Mary Margaret?"

The boy nodded, dipping the last chip in ketchup and popping it into his mouth. "Yeah, it was a present of hers."

"How long have they been dating? Your uncle and her, I mean," August asked from his seat beside Killian as they shared their own plate of fries after having attacked their respective burritos.

Henry scrunched his forehead in thought, cocking his head to the side as he pondered his answer. "Um, I can't really remember - they both met right around the time that my mom had me, and they started dating not long later. It was love at first sight, apparently," he added, a small smirk carefully ghosting over his lips.

At that, Killian scoffed under his breath. Love at first sight. _Riiiight_.

"No kidding. They're getting married soon, right?"

Henry uh-huh'ed as he licked ketchup from his fingers. "Yeah, later this summer."

Victor whistled lowly, laughing in spite of himself. "Weddings, dude. They're awesome." He turned to Killian, raising his eyebrows playfully at him. "Here I'm praying for them to invite us so we can have a real bachelor party."

"We're not going to Vegas, Whale," they all answered the bassist in unison, as if they had rehearsed it hundreds of times. Which they had. More than hundreds. Victor pouted at them, letting his shoulders drop in defeat.

"Let a man dream."

Grace walked up to her father, sat on his lap and asked in a confused tone, "what's so great about Vegas, papa?"

Killian choked on his fry, needing August's assistance as he patted his back forcefully meanwhile the rest of the band members tried not to laugh at the poor girl's question. Jefferson had paled a bit, but recovered himself, shooting a murderous glance in Victor's direction. "Nothing much really, sweetheart. Don't listen to uncle Victor - he's way too silly for his own good."

Victor leered at him, putting his arms behind his head, the picture of innocence. "Sure I am. You really don't want to go to Vegas, Gracie - but when I go, I'll make sure to bring you the biggest present so you remember who loves you the most from all these idiots, and don't you ever forget it."

Killian shot him an amused glance. "That's why you're _not_ her godfather, right? Because I am."

At that, Henry shook his head and addressed Grace, his thumb pointed to them. "You are so lucky - you have all these fighting for you."

They all gasped at his words. Though Killian would never admit it, it kind of felt nice to know that someone would appreciate having him and his mates taking care of someone - it definitely made him feel cherished, and worth having around. Like they did care.

"Hey, you can't complain - have you counted all the people you got watching over you?"

Philip nodded, jerking his chin in their direction. "Yeah, today was the cherry on top - now you have the Lost Boys to take care of you."  
Henry shrugged, not meeting their gaze as he drummed his fingers on the table. "Of course I know, but it's different, that's all."

Before Killian could protest and ask him what he meant, Belle showed up, heavy-looking books on one arm and keys and purse in the other. "Boys, I'm sorry to cut this so soon, but I have to leave - are you all staying or are you leaving?"

Killian looked over at his mates and caught them all sharing a look - wait, what did that mean? He knew them, they were hiding something.

And it didn't include him. Damn them.

Jefferson got up from his seat, picked up the dirty rests of their meal and threw them to the bin in the corner of the room. "I, for one, should leave - I think the same goes for the rest, isn't it?"

As in succession, they all mimicked his actions."Yeah, we have to go do... a thing."

Killian couldn't let it pass. "What thing?"

"Nothing," they all answered, avoiding his gaze. All except Victor, of course, who sent him a smug as fuck grin. God, he wanted to kick him.

He narrowed his eyes at them. "You're onto something."

"We're not," they echoed as Victor added in a sing-song voice, his smile widening, "It's a surprise."

Killian smacked his forehead with his hand. He really wasn't fond of surprises. At all. Ever. "I've had enough surprises lately to last for a lifetime."

They ignored him, picking up sheets and bags as Jefferson helped Grace with her backpack and jacket. Philip patted him on the shoulder when he passed by his side. "We'll see you this weekend, buddy."

_Gotcha_. "This weekend?"

August showed up behind Philip and gripped his shoulders forcefully, making him flinch, and Killian would have felt for the poor sod if he hadn't been so annoyed at them for keeping him in the dark about this whole secrecy thing. "Philip - shut UP."

Grace came up to Killian and kissed his cheek before taking her father's hand in hers and dragging him to the door, followed closely by the rest. "Bye!"

"What are you planning?!," he insisted once more, just in case.

"Byeeeeeee!"

He made a face at them, pointing a finger in their direction as they picked up the last of their things and left. "I'll find out."

They all laughed in their wake, and he heard Jefferson's teasing remark,"sure you will. Bye, Jones!," the door closing the only sound left in the previously noisy room. Henry and he exchanged a glance, and he played with a carefully folded napkin he had used while they ate.

"So, I guess this leaves you and me alone. What do you wanna do?"

Henry got up and walked to the couch, throwing himself at it, making himself at home, and Killian smiled, recalling how awkward his mother had been acting when she first had come into this room to discuss the damn contract. "I don't know. What were you planning on doing before my mom called you and guilted you into babysitting me?"

"You're too smart for your young age. Um, I don't know. I wanted to write a bit more, maybe play. If I didn't find enough inspiration, then watch some lame movie at home."

The boy's eyes lighted up and took a curious glint. "How do you usually write?"

"With a pen," he answered instantly.

Jones. You really need to control that verbal diarrhea of yours. Not everybody enjoys your stupid jokes.

Though in this case, the young lad did seem to, as he cracked up at him. Henry shook his head in between snorts and commented, "mom says you try too hard to be funny."

Oh, so Swan talked about him when he wasn't around? How kind of her. "Oh, she does?"

"Yeah, but she always says it smiling. She likes it, though she tries not to show it," he said matter-of-factly.

Huh. This was just like her - how she denied herself to open up around him, like when he had promised to make that list of the times she'd smile and laugh with him. He had lost count now, fucking finally - but she was such a hard nut to crack. He wondered if she'd ever let that shell of hers to open and free her. Letting out a loud sigh, he raked his fingers through his hair tiredly. "She's too stubborn, we've proof of that. As to the songwriting, I don't know - the idea sometimes strikes and it just... flows, I guess? I don't know how to describe it."

He spied him wringing his hands together nervously, as if debating to say something or not. He waited for a moment, hoping that he'd let it out - he surely wasn't the same as his mother, who'd most probably keep it to herself and drive him mad in the process. "I had an idea while you were playing earlier, but I wasn't sure if you'd like it."

Killian's ears perked at that. "Why not? You can tell me, and if it doesn't work, we can change it or whatever. Go on. Maybe you're a songwriter in the making and we don't know it yet!"

At his words, Henry's expression morphed into a more confident one, sending him a grateful smile. "Well... Remember when I told you about how in the stories in the book, taking people's heart was a really big thing?"

Oh, he remembered alright. He had even questioned Swan about it - was that appropriate for a kid his age? "I do. Quite gruesome, if you ask me."

"I know. So, re reading the Huntsman story - how he couldn't feel anything because the Evil Queen had taken his heart - and how he had to do everything she asked of him because she was literally controlling it... doesn't it sound like something someone in two different situations would do? I mean - the empty heart feeling makes me think of someone who'd be completely numb after a breakup. The controlling thing though..."

"...like when you're so head over heels over someone that you don't see things clearly anymore. Like she literally had your heart in her hands," Killian completed, his voice hoarse, barely above a whisper, his thoughts trudging painfully to memories he wasn't willing to reminisce at the moment. Or ever.

"Exactly," Henry acknowledged with a nod. His gaze dropped to the laces of his shoes, the insecurity coming back to his features. "So... you think it could work?"

Killian walked over to the couch and sat beside him, patting his knee reassuringly. "Definitely. It has quite the potential. As you do, Henry."

"You think so?"

"Uh-huh. How did you think of that? You look too young to have lived through such harsh heartbreaking experiences." He really was confused about that. As insightful and smart as the kid may be, Killian was a bit at a loss as to how he could have grasped such a feeling out of that particular scene in the story. He saw Henry fret in his seat, probably debating wether to tell himor not.

He caved after a few moments, sighing dejectedly. "Not me, that's for sure. It's just..." He paused for a moment, searching for the words. "Once I overheard Ruby and my mom talking. It was New Year's and I know she had had a bit too much to drink - maybe that's why she was talking too much, because she never discusses it, but she was crying and Ruby was trying to calm her down. She was sitting on the floor repeating over and over how this all was a dream, and she was waiting to wake up, how she didn't deserve this and everything was too perfect. How everything would come back to everybody leaving her." He nipped at his bottom lip worriedly, a pleading look in his eyes. "I'm not sure if she was talking about when she was young or about my dad - or both, I guess. Reading about it, I remembered how numb and broken she sounded. She is happy but I think sometimes she doesn't believe she deserves to be." They both stayed silent for a moment, as Killian fought hard not to ask more about his mother and what could have possibly happened with his dad that had broken her in such a way. The abandonment and foster care experience he understood - and it still tugged at his heart whenever he looked at her and found the lost stare in there, the look they shared, the lost girl eyes. But it sounded as if that hadn't been the only time she had been left alone. He was brought out of his reverie as Henry continued, "that's why I am so glad she has found you."

Killian blinked, astonished. "Me?"

"Sure. She hasn't dated anybody in forever. You're good for her," he admitted, as if it were the most casual thing to say. That he, of all people, was good for his mother. A rush of warmth coursed through him, and he smiled over at him.

"You know, you're a great kid. I'm glad she has you."

"I am too. I know too she feels really guilty when she has to leave or come and go like today — or about me staying at David's, Ruby's or Regina's."

He frowned at that. "But you don't mind, do you?"

Henry's face turned alarmed. "Oh, I don't - it's quite fun. Pretty crazy sometimes - if I forget something at one place it's super confusing to actually remember in which one of theirs I did leave it and so on. But I do like it. It's like having a bunch of families," he added lightly.

His eyes crinkled at the corners as he corrected the boy. "Or one great family."

"Yeah."

Killian stared ahead of him, at the glass pane separating both spaces of the room, trying to make up the features of their blurry reflections on it. "Not everybody can claim that, you know. You're really lucky."

The kid slouched on the couch, plopping his head on his arm lazily. "I know. Though as I said, sometimes it's a little dizzy. Like I need to get a grasp on reality. Not only because of my mom's fame - but, you know, because of the roots thing."

Killian felt a pang of understanding hearing this boy talk about how hard it was sometimes to find a place to call home. Of course he had one, but he had been there when he had been driven from one house to another, his backpack full of clothes and books just in case he forgot them, the calls and texts to make sure he was always at the right place with the right person. He wondered how that would feel. He must feel loved and protected - he sure as hell hadn't been at his age, all alone at his hometown back in Europe, - but at the same time it must be tough to be constantly trying to maintain some kind of balance in his routine.

He turned his head in Henry's direction, a hand scratching his chin in concentration. "I think I just have the thing you need for that."

"But I don't need anything," Henry countered with a confused frown.

Killian got up with no warning and went to shrug on his jacket and pick up his keys, motioning for him to follow his example. "You do. You seem to be troubled and brought back and forth from all these places that, as much as they're your home, sometimes make you forget where you stand, where your real place is. We all need a constant, Henry."

As he followed his steps out of the building and towards his car, Henry asked in a bewildered tone, "where are we going?"

Killian flashed him a grin. "To get you yours."

* * *

"Is this what I think it is?," Henry asked, amazement clear in his voice as he walked close by him towards the front door of the building. Killian suppressed a smile at the awe in his expression as he motioned for him to enter while he held the door open.

"I hope so. I used to volunteer here for a while after... a rough time. Helped me clear my mind. One of the greatest places I'll ever work in, if I tell you the truth." It really had been - Gold had made him work in here at first as a kind of '_punishment_' in his wild early stage, and even though he had dreaded the experience, he had changed his mind after spending a couple of weekends in there along with the other volunteers and coworkers.

And the animals, of course.

"But - what are we doing here?," Henry wondered, scanning his surroundings carefully.

"What do you think we are doing here? We're going to get you a constant. Come," he told him with a fond grin, a hand on his shoulder as they reached the counter where a young man was sitting reading over some papers, completely engrossed in his task. "Hey, Gaston."

The guy whipped his head as he heard his name, and a surprised smile stole his features, recognition in his eyes as he looked over at him. "Jones! What are you doing here?" He got up and rounded the counter to pat his back in greeting. "It's been forever since I last saw you. Have heard of the band and all, it sounds like it's going well now, isn't it?"

"It is going rather good, thank you," Killian acknowledged, pleased to realize that, no matter how fucked up they had been long ago, it seemed that it wasn't all that everybody remembered. That they were actually making it work.

Gaston smiled and clapped his hands together. "So what are you up to here? Did your manager send your sorry ass here to help?"

_Ha. _

"Nah, not today, sorry. In fact, we're here to... check out what you have around. A present of sorts for the young lad," he said, giving Henry a little push and gripping his shoulders, positioning himself behind him. Gaston widened his eyes in surprise, finally realizing Killian was not alone, and smiled politely in the boy's direction, sending a curious glance at Killian before he made a motion with his hand towards the hallway where the animals were kept. "Oh, hi there. Sure, I'll give you the tour, then."

Henry bit his lip and sent Killian a worried glance - though he could also see excitement and hope in his face. He signaled towards Gaston reassuringly. "Go ahead, I'll do the paperwork. You get to pick one. Choose wisely."

It hadn't been not even fifteen minutes, when he had already arranged and signed most of the forms the girl who worked alongside Gaston had facilitated for him when a tug at his sleeve startled him making him jump. "It's a she."

His face broke into a knowing grin, mirroring Henry's, who looked about to burst with happiness. "Oh, your mom will be thrilled to have another girl at home."

At the mention of Emma, Henry started fiddling with the cuffs on his shirt, nervously tugging at the hem. "But - what if she doesn't want to?"

He waved a hand at him, trying to calm him down. Let him deal with Swan if she wanted to pick up a fight with them. "That's why we'll share it, just in case she complains. Though I don't see it in her to deny you a pet, now, would she? Do you think Regina, David and the rest will complain if you drag your pet around?"

Henry seemed to ponder his question, a frown touching his lips. "David worked in a shelter for years - and Mary Margaret has loads of birds and even a couple of rabbits. As for Regina I really don't think so - Daniel works as a professional horse trainer - that's how they both met, in fact, on a movie set in which another of her clients was working on. So they live in a kind of a ranch with horses and loads of animals."

Woah. Who would have thought.

"Then I really don't see the problem in here. If your mom gives you hell, I'll talk to her, don't worry. If she gives too much trouble, then I will keep her, and we'll share her when you're not at your mom's. Sounds good?," he asked, his eyes seeking out the boy's hazel gaze in question.

The poor kid looked at a loss of words, nearly stuttering at him, "I - I don't know what to say."

For once in a long time, Killian felt really accomplished with himself. Henry really needed this, and he was more than glad to have helped him. At least until Swan found out, that is.

"There's no need. You're doing something selfless by adopting her, and you'll both be joined by the hip in no time. She'll be your constant." He looked around them, curious as to where the constant in question was. "Where is she, by the way? Can't wait to see the new Swan family member."

Henry bounced on his feet, eager to show off his new pet. "Gaston was prepping her - she's got loads of hair. She's like this hippie dog, I love her!"

A hippie dog? He stifled a laugh. "Does she? What kind of dog is she?"

"Um, an english sheepdog, I think Gaston said? There she is!," he exclaimed as his ex colleague entered with a medium-sized dog, all grey and white fur covering its eyes and face, pink tongue hanging out of its mouth and barking excitedly, probably at the prospect of finally being out of the cages inside the enclosed area they were kept at.

He examined it closely as they came closer, a frown marring his forehead in confusion. "Why does she look familiar?"

"She is like Max, from The Little Mermaid!," Henry pointed out excitedly. Oh, right, now he remembered, the dog the prince owned in the Disney movie - Grace had made them watch it so many times, it was hard to forget it. Though he was fonder of the seagull in that particular movie. It was _hilarious_.

He cocked an eyebrow at Henry. "But we're not naming her Max, are we? Not very ladylike."

Henry made a face at him, and he had to laugh at his expression. "Of course not. We're naming her Nana. She's just like Hook's Nana."

Killian brought his attention back to the dog, now a couple of feet from them, pulling at the leash Gaston was using to keep her at arm's length in her eagerness to join Henry. A hazy memory came to mind then - a dog, pretty much like the one in front of him, in that Spielberg's movie, where Robin Williams was a grown up Peter Pan.

He had loved that movie as a kid.

Gaston approached them and gave him the leash, and Killian crouched down to pet her, letting her sniff his hand and stroking her neck. "You're right, she is. Hey girl. Hi there. See that lad over here? He is going to take care of you from now on, and you're going to have the best family ever. What do you say to that?" She nuzzled her snout against him in greeting, and Killian smiled broadly at Henry. "I think she's quite fine with the idea."

He got up, wiping his hands on his jeans - damn, she was furry. Swan was going to kill him. _Oops_. Gaston was examining Henry as he took Nana to the other side of the room, learning how to maneuver her with the leash. "She seems quite taken with him right since he pointed at her. Here, sign this and you can be on your way. Don't forget to take her to the vet and have the proper vaccines done, though most of them were taken care of in here. But, you know, just to make sure, okay? If you got any problems, just give me a call."

Killian patted him on the arm, a grateful smile on his face as he picked up his papers, wallet and keys. "Thank you man, will do. See you and good luck." They shook hands one last time and, with a wave, he whistled loudly to Henry to follow him out of the shelter towards his car, Nana barking happily in their way.

"Should we go already?," Henry asked him, hand gripping the leash so forcefully Killian feared it would snap. He paused for a moment - hell, the poor dog had been in there for who knew how long, she deserved to be taken out just as she had been adopted, right?

What the hell.

"You want us to go? Or would you rather take a quick walk with her?"

Henry shot him a grin, arms waving in excitement - and Nana, of course, followed his prompt enthusiasm by barking. "Sure! Let's walk her!"

They decided to follow one of the many green areas surrounding the place, Killian helping Henry whenever he nearly lost control in leading Nana - poor thing, trying to run in every direction, as if she couldn't believe she was actually free - and discussing possible ways to teach her so she'd learn tricks in the future: sitting when commanded, fetching sticks, playing dead, doing the chores... what pets usually did.

Henry debated wether she'd be fast enough to run with him, so Killian encouraged him to try. He didn't hesitate, commanding Nana with a loud "come girl!" as they both ran, sprinting in the vast expanse of green they were walking about under Killian's amused gaze, controlling their movements just in case Henry fell or hurt himself or whatever. He didn't need an enraged Swan after him if her kid got hurt under his watch.

Just as he was about to call to them so they could resume their walk, - and probably getting them something to drink, as they should be dying for some water after all that racing and jogging; he wasn't about to forget dehydration as a possible threat for the boy, - when a flash brought him out of his reverie, revealing the cruel reality.

Paps.

"Hey, Killian! Killian!"

He stiffened, rooted to the spot. "Fuck." He pulled his shades out of his pocket, throwing them on before they continued taking pictures. Two guys approached him, and Killian he extended his arm towards them, as if he could put up an invisible wall that would keep them apart from him. And from Henry. "Not today guys, please."

One of them - the one not holding the camera and snapping pics as if there were no tomorrow, - sent him an apologetic smile as he threw question after another. "We don't mean to bother you. Where is Emma? Everything going okay between you two? Any plans on getting real serious with her? We heard maybe even popping the question? How is the album coming? Anything new to report?"

Had he really heard what he thought he had heard?

"Jesus fucking Christ...," he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief at the preposterous questions and looking for Henry and Nana around so they could get the fuck out of there, pronto. His non-existing disposition to answer their questions didn't seem to faze the reporter, though - Killian guessed that'd be the usual when they were buggering someone trying to enjoy a free day out in peace.

"Come on, Killian, anything?," the guy implored, his hand now holding a recorder and trying to shove it into his face in his haste to get any declarations. Killian shot him a withering glance, his eyes promising him he'd slap the fucking recorder out of his hand if he dared to come closer to him.

"Killian!"

Oh, God.

He turned around, making out Henry's form with Nana in his wake, trotting towards them, oblivious of the paps. Not waiting a second, he came to a halt in front of the boy in a couple of long strides, his hand gripping him by the shoulders and pushing him in the direction of the car. "Come on, we're leaving."

The pap followed them, never stopping his questioning as he tried to keep up with their fast pacing. "Who is it? Is it yours?"

Killian snapped. "The dog? Sure it's mine, in fact it is our ukelele player. Now, if you don't mind...," he growled, a curse nearly leaving his lips in annoyance. "Henry, come on. Let's go."

It wasn't long until they got to the car, and as Henry installed Nana in the backseat and sat himself in his, Killian whirled around and faced the pap still behind them, a clear threat on his features as he spat the words in his face. "If you show that kid's face in your shitty article you'll find yourself with a fucking lawsuit you'll wish you never ran into me, got it?"

Not even bothering to see what the fucker would come up with in response, he rounded the car and got in the driver's seat, closing the door with a loud bang and not wasting a second in starting the ignition, clearly desperate to leave the incident behind. He breathed raggedly - he hadn't had to deal with such harassment for a long time. When he had been with Swan it had been different - he had been focusing on her, on making her squirm and teasing her about it, and at least, he knew they were in it together. This had felt different. He hadn't been out there to grant anyone's wishes or following the deal's premises. He had been spending time with a kid, walking a dog, for God's sake.

He had felt violated.

"Woah. You handled that pretty good," Henry praised him.

He chuckled at that. If that had been pretty good, he didn't want to find out how he'd be in one of his bad days. He bet someone would end up with a black eye. "I'm not so sure. I bet Nana did better than I did."

"I bet she loved the flashes," Henry laughed, looking back at the backseat in wonder. "Nana, look, you're already a celebrity!"

An hour later, after a quick run into the store to buy some things for Nana, they were already at his place, setting them up - filling a bowl with water and another with the brand new acquired food for her - and discussing as they filled themselves with chips about the album and the next concerts the band would be playing, even making bets about what could the guys be planning in that supposed 'surprise' of theirs when his phone beeped.

**_Where are you?_**

_We just got to my place. You done?_

**_Yeah. I'll be there in 30._**

_Take your time if you want. There's no rush._

**_I know. I just - nevermind._**

_Swan?_

**_Yeah?_**

_You're more than welcome to come and stay. We'll have dinner with Henry and you can pass out in the couch if you want._

**_Thank you._**

He shifted his gaze from the screen to Henry. "Your mom is on her way here."

"Oh, cool. Do you think she'll be mad?," he said worriedly, his hand going to Nana, who had joined them in the couch and kept leaning her head in their direction so they'd pet her. Killian let out a huff imagining Emma giving them crap about the dog.

"Nah. Who could say no to this? Huh? Look at you, you're such a beauty," he said, his hands fluffing the dog's fur as he made cooing noises under Henry's amused expression. Checking his watch, he looked over the kitchen counter behind him and shot a questioning glance to Henry. "Let's get something ready to eat for your mother, shall we?"

He nodded and promptly got up, following him to the sink to wash their hands. "Good thing we stopped earlier for chocolate ice cream."

Killian pursed his lips, suppressing a grin recalling how he had insisted on buying the ice cream just in case for Emma, as he was sure she'd be in one of her moods after the long day. "I know how to gain your mother's love now."

Not too long later, they heard the doorbell and Killian pushed Henry towards the patio. "She's here. Look, stay out there with Nana until I call you and the introductions will be made, okay? Don't worry," he promised, knowing full well he'd get Swan under control before she met the new member of their family. Henry nodded worriedly, whistling for Nana to follow him outside, and Killian made sure they were out of sight before he went over to the front door and opened it. Emma smiled tiredly at him, her arms crossed in front of her. "Hey," he greeted her.

"Hi," her lips twitched and she walked in when he opened the door further, inviting her in, and made her way into the living room. She shrugged off her light jacket and left it on a chair beside the couch, rising her eyebrows at the carefully arranged dishes on the table. She sat, letting out a tired sigh in the process.

"You look exhausted," he commented lamely. Not obvious at all, Jones.

"I am, but it's fine. I just want to sleep a hundred years now, possibly surrounded by fluffy pillows and chocolate everywhere, and maybe Henry by my side."

"I don't know about the pillows, but...," he went to the kitchen and brought the carton of ice cream with him along with a spoon, "here. And Henry is out playing."

She raised skeptical eyes in his direction, holding the spoon in her fingers as if it was about to bite her. "You bought chocolate?"

"Of course I did. You had a rough day, didn't you?," he explained, absurdly annoyed that she'd question everything he did when it came to her. Was she ever going to let her guard down completely around him?

He was about to pump his fist in victory as, with a last curious glance in his direction, she shrugged and opened the lid of the carton. "So. What did you two do today? And why is Henry out? I thought he'd be following your every step."

_Here we go._

"Eh, yeah, that's something I wanted to talk to you about..." He saw her tense as he uttered the words, her back going straight as she whipped her head towards him.

"Jones. What did you do to my son? I swear if you did something to him I'll fucking kill you in the most painful way...," she growled at him, the spoon now posing a threat to his persona in her shaking fingers.

This woman needed to get a grip.

"Swan, no. Nothing happened - Henry asked me to talk to you first, that's why he's outside," he tried to reason with her.

"What did he do? Did he give you trouble, is that why he's hiding?," she asked, her head going from one side to the other, probably looking for Henry. He bet she'd search every nook and cranny if she suspected the boy was hiding from her. And she'd find him, he was positive about it.

Exasperated, he threw his hands up in the air. "No! Of course not! Damn it, would you please shut up for a moment and let me explain? Fuck, chill out for a moment."

She pointed at him with the chocolate-filled spoon, and for a moment he was tempted to laugh at her choice of weapon. Most powerful attack: chocolate stains. "I've had quite the stressing day, you know, forgive me for being on my last nerve."

He bet she had.

"I know." He sighed tiredly, mustering all his courage to try to explain to her his sudden decision earlier that day. "Look, when we were in the studio this afternoon and we were talking, Henry was telling me about some things and I had an idea..."

"What was he telling you about?," she inquired worriedly.

He made a gesture with his hands. "You know, how he sometimes feels everything is a bit... hectic around him? Coming and going and all?"

"But..."

He stopped her before she could continue interrupting him. "Hey. He wasn't complaining or whining, he was just stating a fact. He loves his life, he does, and he appreciates everything you guys do for him. How could he not? But I thought that he could use something to help him along with all of that."

She appeared to be at a loss of words, gazing up at him with her lips parted and a confused expression on her face. Killian was sure she hadn't expected to find out that Henry had had any kind of problems at all. He just - every kid needed something to hold onto. He got to his feet and extended his hand for her to take. Her eyes lingered on it for a moment until they shifted towards his face, a crease forming between her brows. "Come."

She nibbled on her bottom lip, not tearing her eyes from his, until he shook his hand again in front of her stubbornly with a groan. "Come on, Emma. Trust me?," he begged in a pleading voice.

Lifting her chin and taking a deep calming breath, she finally lifted his hand, letting him take it and helping her up, guiding her to the French doors leading to the back patio. He studied her expression as she curiously peeked out the glass door.

Her breath went out in a gasp, her other hand coming up to cover her mouth in shock. "Is that...?"

He nodded, studying her face intently as she looked through the window pane. "That's Nana."

She stood frozen in place, staring out at her son and the dog playing in the sun, and at last turned astonished eyes to him, disbelief lacing her words, enunciating each word slowly, as if she herself couldn't quite grasp them. "You bought him a dog?"

He shook his head, following her gaze towards Henry. "We didn't buy her. We adopted her. Henry is a young man now, and as much as people would rather have a puppy, there are loads of older abandoned dogs no one would take care of, preferring the little ones. Besides - he was instantly taken with her." He heard her take a sharp inhale of breath and something gnawed in his gut when he spied her conflicted expression. "Swan?"

She was doing everything in her power to avoid looking at him, and when he came to her side and made her face him as his fingers gripped her chin, he realized exactly why, as a lonely tear ran down her pale cheek.

He felt like kicking himself. _Stupid, stupid, stupid._ "Crap, I'm sorry, I..." Her hands came up to grip his, making him look at her under his lashes and try to figure out what was going on inside her head right at that moment.

"No. No - don't apologize. That was a great idea," she conceded in a choked voice. He furrowed his brow, still confused at her sudden emotional breakdown.

"So you don't mind having the dog at your place? I told Henry if you didn't want to, she could stay with me, we agreed on it earlier..."

She shook her head earnestly. "No, no, of course not."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." She let her hands drop from her face, his still encased inside hers, and surprisingly enough, didn't let go of them as she turned her eyes outside again, a dreamy glint in her gaze. "I always wanted a pet when I was a child. One of the families I stayed with when I was in foster care had a beautiful dog and I loved to spend time when I was living with them there... but then they gave me back when they decided to have a kid of their own. I remember running into them on the street a couple of years later, strolling with their kid and the dog right beside them. And..." Her voice shook, dropping to barely a whisper, "it somehow recognized me, came running and barking to me... but they didn't. They thought I was just some random girl their dog was bothering. The dog remembered me, but the couple supposed to be my family for a time in my life didn't. How fucked up is that?"

He was so caught up in the emotions flashing in her eyes, the pain in her voice that he nearly didn't realize she had stopped talking. Knowing she wouldn't want to keep talking about another time someone had failed to keep her, to be there for here and put her first, he tugged gently at her fingers, so she'd look up at him. "Then why didn't you get one of your own if you liked them so much?"

She let her eyes fall closed when he met her gaze. "I never thought I'd be able to take care of anything. I was sure I'd mess it up at the first chance."

Killian studied her, leaning against the door with her eyes closed, hair escaping her ponytail and the sun filtering through the glass giving her skin a golden glow. "You surely don't believe that? You are an excellent mother."

She let out a giggle at his words, shrugging as she peeked at him from one eye. "I'm sure you guess Henry wasn't exactly planned. I was still scared shitless... And then he happened. It wasn't much of a choice - I had to learn how to take care of something apart from myself."

He inched closer to her, dipping his head so his face was right in front of hers, their eyes at the same level. She opened both of hers, holding his gaze defiantly. "I'll have you know Nana seems to be the sweetest Swan family member for now."

She cocked an eyebrow at him, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "So she is a Swan and not a Jones?"

He grinned wider, nodding in acknowledgement. "Oh, she can be Nana Swan-Jones. Deal?"

"Deal."

They stood in there for a moment, relishing the comforting silence engulfing them both until he motioned to her son outside, and the happily barking dog chasing him around as he ran and jumped. "Do you want to meet her?"

Her grin started off small and hesitant before gradually spreading across her lips and reaching her eyes. "Yes," she breathed, and he nodded, opening the door and dragging her outside with him, the barks and laughs from her family welcoming them.

* * *

**_We need to talk. Where are you?_**

_Um, at my place. Why?_

**_I'm coming over. _**

_...okay?_

Huh. What was with her? Killian left his phone on the counter as he fixed himself something light to have for dinner, wondering what that was about, and proceeding to tidy up the living room - again - before Swan showed up. He hadn't seen her since the other day, when they had spent the afternoon with Henry and Nana - and being witness to how she instantly fell in love with the dog, as he had suspected from the start.

There was no way she could have denied that cutie. There wasn't. Really.

Henry had been so relieved that he had jumped to Killian, hugging him tightly in his gratitude, repeating over and over again how blessed he was for having him as his mother's boyfriend. Killian had nearly choked up - not really sure if he should feel touched or panicked at the reverence in the poor boy's words.

Sometimes he hated they couldn't tell him the truth about the stupid contract.

Though, looking backwards, he still felt a sudden rush of pride at seeing the happiness etched on their faces as they played with Nana, Emma's laugh as she asked how they had come up with her name - admitting it was stupidly fitting, though she had accused Killian of brainwashing her kid with so much Peter Pan going around - and their farewell as he saw them leaving in her car, spying them from the door as they drove off, Nana's barks echoing in the street.

He shook himself out of it as he heard the sound of tires outside. He walked over to the front door, opening it to reveal Swan marching over to him with confident strides. He smirked at her, his eyes roaming over her body, knowing how it irked her. "Hey, beautiful."

She ignored him and went in, her hand coming up as if she could physically stop him from talking. "Don't. Don't even try to charm yourself out of this."

...oh. She was in a mood. Oh happy day.

"...out of what exactly?," he asked, following her a couple of steps behind, just so, you know, he'd be out of reach in case she tried to slap him for whatever reason she felt like today.

"Oh, so you don't even know what this is about," she accused, voice laced with venom as she turned a murderous glance in his direction. What the fuck was wrong with her? He really wanted to jest about how she had forgotten to take her pills or something, but bit his tongue, knowing it'd only end in her punching him or screaming at the top of her lungs. And she'd believe she was he reasonable one, of course.

"Do I look like I do?," he finally retorted.

He saw her stop in her tracks and whirl around to face him, hands on hips. With a warning glare in her eyes and a tight lipped frown pulling at her usually soft features, she threw up a hand in exasperation. "See, this is what I really don't understand about you. You can be a fucking prince charming one day and a complete asshole the next - and I'm here wondering what I am going to have to deal with next time we see each other."

...okay, now he was starting to get mad. One thing was for her to be on her PSM and lash out at him, but this was completely uncalled for. Curling his hands into fists, he spat at her trying to control his rage, "Swan, I'm not sure what I've done now to deserve this precious speech, but you'd better get to the point."

She cocked her head to the side defiantly, a hand going to her purse and fishing a magazine from its depths and throwing it at him with not much care. "Oh, I plan to, buddy. Here."

He caught it with ease in his hand, brow furrowing as he read over the headlines on the cover. Nothing. Well, nothing about them. "What is it?"

"Page 22," she growled.

Looking at her under his lashes, he turned the pages with his fingers until he got to the one she had told him about - and froze. There were a bunch of pictures of him wandering around near a park, under the headline _"Celebrities Out and About - Killian Jones"._

And there they were. Him, Henry and Nana, walking hastily towards the car as he had tried to stop the paps from getting to them. Looking closely at the pictures, he noticed how they had pixelled Henry's face, making him unrecognizable to anyone who wouldn't know it was him. Of fucking course, he had told the pap not to show the boy's face - and he hadn't, in fact.

Sneaky fucker.

Reading over the ridiculous article, though, he couldn't hide his outrage and surprise as he realized they had correctly assumed it was Emma's son he had been strolling with. How the fuck had they known? "What the... - I never even said anything about him."

Emma snatched the magazine from his fingers, and he could almost feel the heat of her glare. "You must have, considering now everybody fucking knows he's my son."

"I swear I even told that idiot if they showed him, I'd sue them...," he promised her. He _really_ had.

She let out a dark laugh, a hand coming up to rub her temple in distress. "Oh, but they didn't actually show him, did they? Thank God at least for that. But hey, look on the bright side: now they _do_ know that you hang out with my son," she added, sarcasm pouring from every word she uttered.

He stiffened, his pulse picking up in pace as rage started to consume him. "Why is that bad, though?"

"Because I had kept Henry under wraps for this whole time until you fucking happened! That's why!," she finally exploded, her tone raising to a barely concealed scream, breathing heavily after her outburst.

"But how did they even know he was your son? I never said anything," he refuted, his tone escalating to match hers.

"How the hell should I know? You must have slipped his name or something and they must have connected the dots, seeing you have never been around any kids before!" Her chest heaved as she threw her hands out before her, waving them frantically.

He was half tempted to lunge himself at her for being so damn stubborn. "And you are blaming me for them finding out about your son? How is that fair, knowing it was fucking bound to happen? You hadn't even told me he was such a secret - oh wait, I should have suspected he was, taking into account you hadn't even told me he existed at first," he reminded her cruelly. He knew that had been low of him, but he couldn't help himself - she was driving him fucking nuts with all those accusations, as if he had always been the one to blame for anything going awry in her perfect little life.

Her eyes met his in an incredulous stare, her lips parted in outrage, snarling at him, "don't. Don't you fucking play victim here, you asshole. You didn't have _any_ right to mix my son in this. I should have known you'd screw up everything."

He couldn't suppress the wince at her argument. Rapidly composing himself, he sent her a cold glare, wishing to just hurt her - just as much as she was hurting him. And why he was so fucking affected by her words, he'd never know. Or he did, but didn't want to admit it. "Of course. Because I am a mess and I can't fucking take care of anything, isn't it?"

She met his eyes, those fucking green eyes of hers, unwavering, and for once since they had met, they held no warmth, no teasing glint, no amusement. Just coldness. "I don't know. Maybe you are. Maybe you are poison - everything you touch, it bleeds until it dies."

It was as if she had slapped him. He even felt like stumbling on his feet, though it was only a feeling, as he was frozen, rooted to the spot, his gaze never leaving hers and recognizing the first signs of horror and guilt appearing on her expression.

But it was too late. She had admitted what he had most feared for a long time - how he would never be enough, capable of doing something right in the end. He had had his fair years of unstopping success, fame, money - to nearly lose it all in the end. Because of him. His fault.

He had loved. He had fallen for someone. She had fallen for him. And, as much as he liked to believe it hadn't been _all_ on him, he couldn't help but wonder how it may be true that he had had something to do with it - how it surely must have been something he had done to make her decide not to stay with him.

Why? Because, as Emma so poetically had declared, he was poison.

"Jones...," she said, stepping towards him, and he stepped back in response, almost without thinking, not daring to let her approach him. Not now.

"No. Don't."

She looked apologetic, her lips thinning as she looked up at him. "I just..."

He heaved a breath, mustering all his patience to not yell at her to get the fuck out of his place. He knew she had a right to be angry - hell, he would be too if they had published pictures of his kid for everyone to see - but she had crossed the line. Hell, she was so far past it they could barely see the fucking line. He pinched the bridge of his nose, a loud hammering in his head as he tried to come up with something to tell her. "I know you're upset. I understand that, but you have no right to come in here and blame me for this. You just can't. You should have guessed this could happen the moment you signed those papers, you must."

She stiffened again, ready to fight back. As always, he inwardly growled. "Yet I have never had a problem like this before - until you entered the picture."

"Wasn't that the purpose of the contract? To get us more publicity? What did you expect? Because the paps chasing us wherever we go - especially doing random things like walking a dog in the street - came in the package, darling. And if the pics imply something remotely related to our relationship, it makes even more sense they'd hunt us for more of those," he heatedly argued, a finger pointed to the magazine, now laying forgotten in the armrest of the couch beside them, the smiling couples on the cover mocking them as they kept screaming at each other.

"Yet you shouldn't have..."

He walked up to her, coming to a halt almost directly in front of her, his voice ragged and shaking in anger and frustration as he fought not to lose it. "Emma. I'm sure I'm not the first one to tell you this, but you cannot have everything. Fame always comes with a price. Privacy and success? I don't think so. You can try to maintain some sort of control over it - and you have done exceptionally good all these past years, to be honest. A remarkable job. But now you're playing with the big guys. And what did you think would happen when Henry grew up? They would have found out about him one way or another!"

_How. Could she. Not. Fucking. See it?!_

"But not now, it's too soon...," she refuted weakly, casting her eyes down under the intensity of his gaze. Why was she still fighting? Why would she want to make this even more difficult, instead of letting it go and looking for possible solutions after the whole debacle? Why keep confronting him?

He had no idea what the hell she was thinking, and Killian was about to pull out his hair in defeat and frustration, the only thing making sense right now about to spill from his lips. "Why are you so intent in blaming me? It's like you're trying to find reasons to push me away from you! Why are you so afraid?"

She gasped, something dark flashing in her eyes. "I am not afraid!"

"Yes you are," he egged her on.

She shook her head insistently, her face flushed as she threw up her hands. "I'm just taking care of my son, you don't understand what it's like," she screamed.

He inched closer to her, his breath whipping strands of her hair out of her face. "I'm not talking just about Henry, Emma, and you know it!"

"I..."

He went on, ignoring what she had been about to say. "Even if I don't have a kid, I understand your need to protect him, and I sure as hell will try and help you in whatever I can, but right now, Henry is not the issue. You are scared, you are fucking terrified of letting yourself close to anything or anyone out of your little comfort zone. You give out this vibe of badass, brave and courageous girl ready to fight off whatever that crosses her path but the truth is that you won't let the things in that may make you happy in the long run."

And how he knew that now. He could see he had struck a nerve in her, as she squared her shoulders, the little flinch as he had delivered his speech, the frown on her lips and the slight shiver in her voice as she tried to counter his words with venomous ones of her own. "You don't know anything about me - don't think that because you signed some stupid paper you have _any_ right to talk to me like we've been best buddies since we were in nappies and making assumptions about my life or my feelings." She paused for a second, a snarl on her lips as she looked back at him fiercely. "And how the hell would you know what makes _me_ happy?"

He didn't even budge, crossing his arms over his chest, smoothing his features into a mask of careful control, not daring to make her see how fucking panicked he was at that moment - throwing this out to her, not knowing the outcome. The fallout. "Because I have seen it."

A hysterical laugh bubbled from her lips at that. "Of course you have. You're so egoistical, you'd think _you_ make me happy, don't you?"

He stepped even closer towards her, his hand coming up to grip her hip forcefully as the other, in contrast, tenderly moved a curl behind her ear. "Oh, I know I'm not the whole reason for your happiness. I know happiness doesn't depend on one person or one sole thing. But that I help in yours?" He gave her a smug grin. "Oh, I'd say I do. But you won't have any of it - just because you won't let yourself take it."

His words still taunting her in the air, he saw her fighting the urge to tear her eyes from his. "What if I told you you're absolutely wrong about that?"

He shrugged, his hands still holding her in place - not letting her go. Not again. "Guess we'll never find out, now, will we? Wanna know why?" He dipped his face so his lips were right beside her ear, purring provokingly, "because you're afraid."

Pulling back so he could see her expression, he was more than shocked to see her eyes glistening as she closed them slowly. "Why are you doing this to me?," she all but begged in a broken whisper.

He let his hand cup her cheek, making her face him again. "Because you need to find out the truth. You deserve to learn what you really want, and reach for it. For yourself." He watched as her lips trembled, and his heart started hammering against his chest in a wild _stacatto_, and without warning, his lips went against his will to kiss the tear falling down her cheek.

And all hell broke lose.

Emma bent to brush her lips against his, first as light as a whisper, until she started pressing her mouth insistently against his, burying her fingers in his hair to keep him from pulling away.

As if he would even try.

Just as she tried to deepen the kiss, he responded, and in a heartbeat his hands were tangled in her curls, her lips moving against his with an intensity that nearly left him breathless, a loud groan escaping his lips as she pressed herself against him.

She clawed at his shoulders, pulling his body as close to hers as humanly possible, and he followed her lead, running his hands over her arms and her back, frustrated by the layers of clothes that came between them. Finally he cupped his hands beneath her denim-covered backside, lifting her upwards. Acknowledging his intention, she wrapped her legs around his hips and held onto his neck, all the while not breaking their kiss.

He pressed her up against a wall for a moment, tearing his lips away to catch his breath. Emma still clung to him, frantically working at his shirt, trying to get him to take it off. His lips trailed her neck, running all the way down to the base of her throat, and then back up again to suck the skin beneath her ear. He saw her eyes fall closed, letting a low moan as her hips jerked involuntarily against his. He cursed under his breath, and suddenly they were moving again, and he was carrying her down the hall to his bedroom. Before they got there, she maneuvered to take off her t-shirt, throwing it over their heads with no care for it.

He kicked open the door to enter and managed to get to the bed before he plopped her down into the center of it, and then he stared at her for a moment, surrounded by the fluffy white duvet around her, like a cloud she had sunk into. He crouched over her and raked his eyes hungrily over her body, her breasts now covered only by a simple black cotton bra.

She was a fucking marvel.

Before he could say anything, she was already tugging at the material of his own shirt, her hands shaking in her attempt to seek bare skin, and he decided to help her by pulling it over his head and flinging it to the floor. Just as he did, she pushed herself upright to kneel in front of him, running her hands over the planes of his chest leisurely. He hissed with pleasure at her exploratory touch, and then reached behind her back to unclasp her bra, sliding the straps down her arms. He could almost feel the heat from her cheeks as he gazed at her.

_Fucking hell._

That scene with Humbert in the movie hadn't done her justice _at all_.

"Beautiful," Killian whispered reverently, sensing her insecurity as she peeked at him under her lashes. He kissed her once more, pushing her onto her back with gentle insistence. He let his mouth explore every inch of skin he could find - on her neck, her breasts, her stomach - sucking on it lightly, and he felt her trembling under his ministrations. A small smile tugged at his lips. "I haven't even started and you're shivering. My, my, Swan, you do know how to make a man feel accomplished." He heard her inhale a sharp breath, her hand gripping the duvet forcefully. "It's because of the tickling."

His smile grew wider. "Oh. So if I do this..." He let his mouth wander slowly over the skin of her stomach, blowing lightly on it, and even letting the stubble on his chin caress her body, carefully managing not to laugh at her poor attempts at self-control as she fisted her free hand in his hair and growled something along the lines of "stop fucking teasing me", dragging him up until their lips collided once more. He pulled back after a minute, bending down to remove her shoes, plopping them down on the floor, and went to unzip her black jeans, attempting to peel them off.

Fuck. Skinny jeans. "That's why I hate these things. Killing-the-mood fuckers," he grumbled, impatiently tugging at them. He heard her laugh breathlessly and helped him take them off, and he threw them to the other side of the room as if they had morally offended him. He spied her studying him from under him, and as he bent down again, about to leave a kiss on her thigh - noticing in a corner of his brain her choice of underwear: Superman panties - she put a hand up in front of her. "Don't even try. Take your pants off. Now."

He chuckled at her insistence, but decided to comply her wishes, stood up, kicked off his shoes and slid his trousers down his hips. Just as he was about to crawl over her again, she whispered breathlessly, "wait, I..."

"Yeah, I know, you're on the pill," he cut her off before she could continue. He saw her tense under his arms, cocking her head to the side in confusion. "How do you know that?"

He dipped down his head, letting his lips trail over her collarbone and his tongue lick teasingly the light freckles peppering her skin. "Let's say after I found out about your kid, I did a bit of research." She relaxed under him once more, and even dared to arch her hips, still encased in those Superman cotton panties, and dragged her heat along his length. "So what more did you learn about me in that research of yours?", she rasped.

Trying to gather his thoughts, he smirked triumphantly as he answered with a jerk of his hips and heard her gasp. "I heard you do yoga... so I'm expecting some extremely impressive moves, Miss Swan..." She laughed, the sound sending shock waves through his body, and commented in a taunting voice, "I only did for a couple of weeks... but I've been told I'm quite flexible."

With a growl at her words, his control snapping, he divested both of them of their underwear, leaving no clothes between them. Killian kissed her deeply, his tongue probing her mouth while his long fingers stroked between her thighs until she was practically begging for him to end her agony. Obligingly, he lowered himself between her legs.

For a few seconds, his eyes searched her face as if he was looking for the answer to a question that he couldn't find the words to ask - wishing he could be inside her head. Her heart. If she did indeed feel what he did too. She stared at him, her own eyes unwavering, and nodded encouragingly, and he finally pushed his hips forward to join them at last.

Both of them shuddered and gasped at the contact, and for a moment, Killian was still, trying to gather his senses. Then he started to move, and they were both lost in a wave of sensations unlike any he had ever experienced before. He felt as if he was on fire, that the heat between them would consume him alive, and he thought that if this is what happened when you played with fire, then he'd quite happily burn.

As he rocked against her, he felt her fingers play over his flesh and rake her fingernails lightly up and down his back. "I really hope they didn't teach you this in yoga sessions," Killian choked out, his breathing ragged.

"Wouldn't you like to know," she teased, gasping as he turned his head to trace the shell of her ear with his tongue, his breath hot and moist against the side of her face. He captured her earlobe between his teeth, giving it a gentle tug. Her fingers dug painfully into his shoulders, clinging to him as if she was adrift in a hurricane and he was the only solid thing keeping her aloft. With a hoarse cry, Emma suddenly came undone in his arms under his marveled gaze.

If that hadn't been one of the hottest things he had ever seen, he didn't know what was, all golden curls spilling around her and ecstasy etched to her features.

As she came back down from her peak, he let the wildest part of him go free, his movements becoming more erratic and his body tensing with the force of his own impending climax as his hips rocked against her. For the briefest moment his eyes met hers, and he thought he'd lose himself if he kept staring at them. But then they closed and he came with a soft groan before collapsing on top of her.

Her fingers trailed through the perspiration on his back, tracing soothing circles against his hot skin while they both trembled with the aftershocks of their coupling. Finally, he gathered the strength to roll off of her, still somewhat shaky from his exertions. And not for the first time, he found himself not knowing what to say.

What was one supposed to say to his fake girlfriend whom he found himself stupidly attracted to - maybe even having some kind of feelings for - not knowing what she actually felt for him - after they had so wildly fucked in his bed after one hell of a fight?

_Just say anything, Jones, dammit._

"So. We've seen each other naked. I guess there's no coming back from that. Friendship officially ruined."

...okay, maybe that hadn't been the best thing to come up with.

To his surprise, Emma let out a laugh beside him, propping her head on her elbow, her hair falling like a golden curtain as she smiled at him. "You'd call that friendship? I'd say it was more sexually charged friendship."

Was he dreaming? Was she flirting with him now - and smiling willingly at him? "Did I need to get you into bed just for you to admit that? You're going to be the death of me." She laughed again, and he belatedly recalled that crazy thought of his of keeping her laugh with him, the warmth of it coursing through his body. He inched his face closer to hers, his eyes going from hers to her lips. "But before I do die, I need to know..."

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Know what?"

He started trailing lazy kisses on her jaw and the skin behind her ear, relishing in her quiet gasp. "Was I better than chocolate?"

"I will not answer that question," she finally answered, her hand fisting in his hair and letting her nails rake his scalp. He hissed under his breath and moved to tower over her once more, unable to stop smiling. "Then I won't let you escape from here until you admit I am."

She tapped her finger on her lips, a challenging look on her face. "We could stay here for a while for that, buddy."

That was all he had wanted to hear. Taking her hands in his and lacing their fingers together, he pulled them over her head, leaving no space whatsoever between their bodies. "I have no problem with that."

* * *

**_...so there's that._**

**_I don't know if you were expecting it, if you were dreading it (I know I was - *gulps*), or what, but here it was. NANA IN DA HOUSE, BITCHES. (Kidding. We were talking about the sex. Right? What? Sex? What sex? *goes away whistling*) _**

**_If you want to know how Nana looks like, just check out Hook (1991). (My headcanon is to have that dog and naming it Nana, since I was a kid) (Sigh. Lucky Henry.)_**

**_Special thanks to my lovely to be fiancé aka beta aka soulmate Cee. You know you love me. xoxo_**

**_What will the boys be planning? What is going on now? Will Emma finish the chocolate at Killian's in record speed? All will be answered, dear children... until next update! _**

**_PS: Timbaland. Loads of Timbaland. Because what is life without Sir Timbo? And "Young Blood (Slow Version)" by Naked and Famous helped through the excruciatingly painful writing of this monstrosity of a chapter. _**


	22. Chapter 22: Breath of Life

_**Disclaimer: None of this characters are mine. No Killian Jones, no Emma Swan, no Graham, no Ruby. Not even little Henry. Not even Grace. Nope. If they did, we'd all hang out and I'd probably spend my days staring at their prettiness and perfection. Sadly, they all are owned by Adam Horowitz and Edward Kitsis, along with OUAT. Bastards.**_

* * *

That haze in between sleep and awake, where dreams are still somewhat real but not quite within your grasp. Where everything you'd ever believed and cherished and trusted is possible. Where you can be anyone you want.

Emma wished she could stay in there forever.

She could feel her lips forming an unconscious smile, and she blamed that oneiric world in which she found herself, her expression content, limbs relaxed, thoughts still blurry, just numb feeling coursing through her veins as a happy sigh fell from her lips.

Until a tickling sensation brought her back to reality.

She had been laying on her stomach, her head turned to the right, the light trickling through the window warming the arm holding the pillow. She opened a half-lidded eye begrudgingly, still not ready to face the new day, encountering a tousled-haired Jones laying beside her, his head propped on his right hand while his other one traced an indiscernible pattern on her back, seemingly whispering something to himself and his eyes not meeting hers, entirely focused on her skin.

She stared at him for a couple of minutes, taking advantage of his distracted state and apparent fascination with her back, taking in his morning self. She really didn't understand how guys could pull off the I-just-got-out-of-bed look and appear equally attractive as if they had spent an hour gelling their hair. And Killian Jones definitely didn't need to spend that amount of time to achieve such a state. It was like he possessed some kind of gift, she mused as she contemplated those messy locks, the amazed blue eyes - why was he staring at her _so much,_ oh my God it wasn't like he hadn't gotten a piece of it through the night, and definitely _more_ than once, - the rough stubble, which she now could recall how it had scratched deliciously against her skin...

She tried to hid a smile as memories of the prior night assaulted her brain - to no avail. She had come here after leaving Henry and Nana for the weekend with Regina, - as he was dying to introduce their new family member to her and Daniel, knowing how fond of animals he was, living on that ranch and all - making sure that way that she wouldn't be interrupted as she cleared her head and headed towards his place to give him a piece of her mind after she had read that fucking article.

What she hadn't expected at all had been the aftermath, of course.

How he had called her out on being afraid of whatever she felt for him. How he had been spot on on how she had jumped at his throat at the first chance - because it was her way of coping with whatever problem she encountered, burdening him with it. To scare him away from her. How he had claimed he made her happy.

How she hadn't been able to deny it after he had insisted - which had both terrified and exhilarated her at once. For someone so used to tell everybody how clueless, idiotic or whatever she felt they were acting, she had to admit she was not better.

Especially when it came to him.

Emma knew she had found herself being unable to deny quite a lot of things since she had met Killian Jones. For starters, he drove her _mad_. Good and bad mad. Mad levels implying pulling-your-hair-out mad. He had helped her through some of the I-cannot-do-this freakouts of hers - making her admit to herself how she surprisingly felt thankful for his presence. He had actually kept his promise and stayed around and hung out with her son after she had begged him, even when he hadn't even known of his existence and could have acted like a complete asshole or been petty about it.

All in all, Killian Jones had turned out to be quite an enigma.

And Emma really enjoyed uncovering those.

What she was most surprised about in all of this was that she couldn't find it in herself to feel guilty or wrong about what had transpired between them - not only the previous night, but all of those little moments they had exchanged that she had tried to convince herself one time after the other that didn't mean anything, when a voice in her head - which reminded her strangely enough of Morgan Freeman, probably because of the God thing - told her she was being stupid for lying to herself.

When she was around him, she just felt...

That was it.

She _felt_.

Closing her eye again, she decided to break the heavy silence, her voice coming out a bit raspy. "What are you doing?"

"Shh, don't distract me - I'm on twenty-four," he answered, his fingers never stopping his torturous caressing in lazy strokes, and with each contact she felt like her skin was going to catch on fire.

_Emma, focus._ "Twenty-four what?"

She could almost hear the smile in his voice. "Beauty spots or freckles or whatever. Shut up or I'll lose count."

"You can't be serious," she groaned, wrinkling her noise and burying her face back against the pillow, hoping that it'd somehow smother the laugh threatening to escape her lips. Gosh, he really had a thing for the stupid freckles.

"Oh, I am. And this is just your back and right arm." His hand followed her side, making her shiver in the process, until it slid from her shoulder and down her arm, supposedly keeping track of every freckle peppering her skin.

"You sure know how to make a girl feel self-conscious," she drawled out in a bored tone. She felt his fingers halt, and the bed dipped at her side as he inched closer until she could feel his breath on her face. She finally opened her eyes, staring right at him as he flashed her a crooked smile.

"I told you I find them lovely - though I wouldn't mind if you showed me other places so I could keep counting..."

She laughed in spite of herself. "You're creepy. Can't you let me sleep?"

A smirk ghosting over his lips, he inclined his head down slowly, purring in her ear. "Sure, you seemed to be hating my hands on you - and I'm not talking just about now..."

Emma let out a gasp, about to retort something in mock outrage, when her stomach decided to have its say in the matter. Rather loudly. And unexpectedly. And embarrassingly. Her cheeks burned under the amused stare of her... whatever the hell Jones was, who grinned from ear to ear, an eyebrow cocked as he looked at her. "Are you hungry?"

_You don't say._ "Famished, actually."

His eyes lit up, and she had to stop herself from grasping his face in her hands to stare a them closer - how the fuck were they so blue? It was _not_ normal. She remembered how they had shone in the dim light of the bedroom and she had wondered the exact same thing. Was he some kind of cat or what? She shook her head in an attempt to clear his thoughts as he answered her. "Oh, I like the sound of that - means I downright exhausted you."

"Sure, maybe it has nothing to do with the fact that I barely ate all day."

"No. Still believe it's due to our fun activities from last night."

"Was there a point to this conversation?," she remarked with an eye-roll.

He was looking at her again, his eyes twinkling beneath his lashes. "Apart from pointing out how exquisitely we work together in bed? I don't think there was."

"Okay. I'll go back to sleep then," she threatened, rolling to her side so she'd be facing the window and not him. In vain, of course, as his arm came around her and flipped her over so they were face to face once more, noses nearly touching.

"Uh-uh. No sleep in my bed once you're awake. Either we get up, or..."

Emma gulped loudly. She hated that he must had heard it, giving out her unease. Or anticipation. Whatever. "Or...what?"

He gave her a smile that should be illegal. "I don't know. Maybe we could find other much more pleasant activities to do..."

"Like what?," she asked breathlessly, not really sure if she wanted to find out the answer.

Oh hell, who was she kidding, _of course_ she wanted to.

"Like finding out your tickles tolerance. What do you say?," he inquired, his face breaking into a wide grin, his teeth shining as bright as his eyes - what was with this guy and all his sparkly self? Was it because they had slept together?

Huh.

Emma. _Emma_. _He wants to tickle you._

_NO. _

She gripped the sheet in her hands forcefully, covering as much of her body as she possibly could so he wouldn't be able to access it to his cruel devices. Because tickling was bad. So. Very. Bad. "Don't you even dare," she growled in his direction, eyes peeking from under the covers.

"Come on," he pleaded, his hand curling around hers, gripping the sheet away from her.

"No," she repeated, but much to her annoyance she was letting him pry the cloth away. Ugh. She was one of those girls, wasn't she? One that became putty in a guy's hands when he wished to tickle her?

...was there even a label for those girls?

"But look..." Her breath went out in a loud gasp as his fingers ghosted once again against the creamy skin of her exposed hip, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. His gaze, on the other hand, instead of following the trail his fingers kept tracing on her naked body, stayed focused on hers, closely inspecting her expression. "See? It's not that bad." Her teeth nipped her bottom lip as she tried not to whimper when his hand left her hip to go up her stomach and follow the line in between her breasts. "In fact, I think you're enjoying it," he added with a smile.

She inhaled sharply. "Jones..."

"Oh no. It's Killian, remember?," he interrupted her, his lips twitching as he let his fingers wander over her neck and chest. She made a face at him, evoking in her mind what he was implying by that statement.

When she had called him by his name.

She tried to play it off, telling him with a grin, "is it? I don't remember that..."

He didn't seem bothered by her insistence in not acknowledging what they both knew had indeed happened. In fact, Emma wasn't completely sure when or how it had happened - or, to better phrase it, _which time_ it had happened, she thought with a blush - but she knew it had. And it had changed something between them.

Along with the we've-fucked-like-rabbits-through-the-night, of course, but that was beside the point.

"Oh, sure you do... and if you don't, then it'll be because you were so beyond pleasure that your brain blacked out."

And that was how Killian Jones made her forget what a puzzle he was and how hard she tried to figure him out - apart from her raging, stupid and mostly annoying feelings towards him - and just plain made her laugh.

"You're so full of yourself," she muttered with a snort, letting her hand fall on her face as she rubbed her eyes. At his sudden silence, she peeked at him through her fingers - he was stroking his chin, deep in thought, until his eyes turned to hers once more, a mischievous glint on them.

"Actually, I'd say it was _you_ who were full of me but that's another story."

"Oh my God...," she choked, her hand muffling the hysterical laughter bubbling from her lips. How could he be so crass and yet make those lines of his somehow the slightest bit funny was beyond her. "I don't know wether to laugh or cry at that, to be honest," she admitted, taking the pillow under her head and hitting him square in the chest. He let out a surprised cry, and she felt him tense beside her as he rolled down on top of her, the fluffy weapon of choice forgotten where he had been laying previously while he took both of her wrists in his hand. She squirmed under him, letting out loud shrieked protests so he'd let go of her - all of them unsuccessful, mind you.

"Stop it - you wanna have breakfast or not?," he asked her, his gaze intent on hers. Huh. She had guessed he'd keep trying to get her to have a rather different wake-up call.

She frowned at him, somewhat surprised at this sudden chivalry. Though she had to admit he had proven time after time he was indeed some kind of gentleman - though she'd never say it out loud. "Wait - no innuendo after that? Are you actually making me breakfast?"

"Who said anything about making? I'm taking you out."

Oh. "Where?"

Ugh, that damn smile again. He inched closer to her, his lips barely ghosting over hers. "Secret, love. But let's say you'll have the best pancakes you've ever tasted in your life. Promise," he assured her, pecking her fast and letting go of her hands at last, getting up from the bed.

In all his naked glory, of course.

_Emma, the way you're licking your lips right now is not okay. Stop it._

Mouth suddenly dry, she quirked one eyebrow upwards at his words trying to sound nonchalant. "I'll hold you to that."

* * *

He made a motion with his hand so she'd go in first as he held the door for her - as he always did, she was starting to realize - and she was about to ask him for the hundredth time what was so special about this little cafe he had brought her to; - sure, it seemed cozy, and it smelled delicious in here and it gave this familiar, snug vibe with its vibrant colored tablecloths and overall decor, - when a voice from behind the counter made her jump. "Jones! Where have you been? I was worried you'd died or something. Or were cheating on me with some McDonald's wench."

Round glasses propped on her nose and wisps of grey hair framing a fairly wrinkled face, Emma could only openly stare as this woman pranced around the dinner, bustling from one side to another, picking up plates and serving coffees without hesitation. She felt Jones - Killian - whatever - pushing her softly from behind so she'd reach one of the barstools standing in front of the counter, as he sat at her right, his knuckles tapping the linoleum. "You know I'd never do that to you, Granny. And come on, I can see all those magazines from here - you've been checking up on me."

It was oddly satisfying seeing him acting like a cheeky bastard with other people apart from her, to be honest.

The woman - Granny - barked out a laugh at him, signaling over her shoulder to the papers stacked behind her by the beeping coffee machine. "You think I buy that crap? It's all Alice and you know it."

"Sure, and I bet you don't read any of it, huh?," he teased her, a full on smirk on his face.

Granny shook her head in annoyance, cocking her hip to the side. Emma wondered how she pulled that off. "Aren't we sure of ourselves."

"But you wouldn't have me any other way," he guessed, a fond smile replacing his earlier smirk. He turned to her then, tugging on her hand so she'd propel her barstool closer to him as he made the introductions. "Granny, this is Emma. Emma, this is the woman who has fed me for most of my musical career since I got here."

She had to try really hard not to snort at that. Of course he'd let people feed him instead of fixing himself something. What a loser. She focused on the patron, who was examining her intently, a knowing look on her face. She felt like squirming under the obvious scrutiny, but kept on her poker face and flashed a polite smile, holding out her hand. "Hi. Nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you too," she agreed, shaking it briefly and answering with a grin of her own. She then turned her gaze from hers to his, eyes narrowing as she inspected both of them, looking for who knows what in their expressions. "Well, I guess for once, the rumors are indeed true, and there was no photoshop included in those articles."

Emma felt her cheeks burn - for what, she didn't know, as she was sure half of the planet had seen all of those photographs: from their first date, their first encounter at the Gala, the premiere, the concert, the night in Wonderland... - while Killian laughed heartily and pointed at the older woman victoriously. "I knew you had read them!"

She waved her hand, shushing him. "Aw, of course I did. Last time I saw you, you were running like a bat from hell after your creepy manager called you a couple of months ago and didn't hear from you until today."

Emma nearly choked. Had she called Gold creepy? Oh God. She was starting to _really_ like this woman.

Killian unleashed his puppy eyes in the patron's direction. Uh-oh. "I came a couple of times but you weren't here - it was one of your other girls serving."

"Missed my pancakes, did you?," she leered, raising an eyebrow at him mockingly. He laughed again and put up his hands in surrender in front of him, as if she were pointing a gun at him.

Which Emma weirdly enough could picture perfectly in her head - Granny looked like the kind of woman not afraid to handle a deadly weapon and threaten you with some "Sayonara baby" line before sending you out of her establishment with your tail between your legs.

"You know me too well - I promised Swan here I'd make her try them. You up for it?"

Granny beamed at her, pleased. "Hell yeah. You sure you are, Emma? I'm telling you, once you do, any other pancakes will be ruined for you."

Shooting Killian a subtle look from the corner of her eye, she shrugged nonchalantly. "I kind of consider myself an adventurous girl, so bring it on."

That was all that she had expected to hear, or so it seemed to Emma. With an appreciative nod, she whirled on her feet, her shawl fluttering around her as she ran towards the back of the diner, calling over her shoulder cheerfully, "pancakes for the happy couple, then!"

Emma suppressed a laugh at her antics, and put up her feet on the barstool, sitting indian style and facing the singer as he too chuckled under his breath. She tapped her fingers on her knee as she studied him, a smirk threatening to grace her face. "So. This is where you come to get goodies. Interesting."

His eyes met hers in a curious stare, nodding slowly. "Uh-huh. Stumbled upon it one day, Granny had me at that first bite."

Oh. First bite. That didn't sound dirty. _At all._

_Emma, what is wrong with you - keep it together, for fuck's sake_. Clearing her throat loudly, she kept digging for information. "You two look like you're best buddies."

He shrugged, his gaze sweeping the place with a fond smile. "She's been really kind to me since we met."

"I bet."

He turned to her once more, his hand coming to tug on one strand of her hair playfully - reminding her with a wince of how lucky she had been that the guy kept a couple of hairbrushes in his bathroom, or they could have possibly had a situation involving knots. "And you know what - she's also known for her chocolate with whipped cream."

Ohhhhh. Emma shot him a painful grimace. "Now you're just being a mean. And a tease."

"I offered you a morning round, you declined...," he commented, fingers caressing her arm as he spoke. Ugh. He. Had. To. Stop It. Or she'd combust right there. What was _wrong_ with her?

Oh, right. The fact that she hadn't been laid in forever and now suddenly this guy had given her quite the night came to mind. Feelings, first name basis and what else aside. She rolled her eyes - at him and at herself, though he'd never know that. "You're insatiable."

As he was about to comeback, a beep halted him, stopping whatever he was about to say. He sent her an apologetic look - or not so apologetic, more like I'll-deal-with-you-later-don't-think-you're-out-of -this look - and fished his phone from his jeans' pocket. He frowned at the screen, and hurriedly got up from his stool. "It's Jefferson. I'll be back, one sec."

Emma observed how he left in long strides through the front door of the diner, wondering what that was all about. Shrugging, she turned towards the counter again to distract herself by examining the menu and what they offered in here - especially anything remotely close involving chocolate - when the sudden appearance of Granny in front of her made her jump.

"So - how are you dealing with him?," the woman inquired while she wiped the counter with a rag, all business. Huh. She didn't go around the bushes. Just like her.

She kind of liked that.

Emma let her head lean on her hand, fingers tapping on her cheek as she stared ahead of her. "I'm afraid I cannot answer that - I'm still struggling to come to terms with the idea that we are, in fact, together."

The funniest thing was that she was starting to believe that what she was telling Granny was something closer to reality than just something she had signed to claim to whoever asked about her relationship with the frontman.

Which scared the crap out of her.

"You know, you're the first girl he has ever brought in here," Granny commented, watching her from the rim of her glasses closely. Emma stiffened at that. Was she?

"Am I?"

"Uh-huh. Maybe sometimes with his bandmates or the little girl, but never a girl, as, in a date," she explained, letting her words hang in the air. Emma let her fingers play with her hair, a frown marring her forehead as she fought a sudden suspicion in her mind. Should she ask...?

"Not even a brunette?," she finally inquired in a quiet voice, not really sure if she wanted to know the answer. But the possibility kept nagging at her; after all, it'd be more than possible that he had brought Milah in here, right? Hell, they had had something quite important to him. It wouldn't be so weird of him if he had indeed taken her to his little haven.

Granny pursed her lips in thought. "A brunette? Nope. I'm telling you - I remember asking him to bring you after the champagne incident - which I'm still waiting to hear about, please and thank you - but he just waved me off, reminding me of his promise not to bring any girl at all with him here." She flashed her a grin full of mischief, and it reminded Emma of the ones Killian gave her, making her heart flutter at the thought. "So I guess that makes you pretty special to him."

Emma smoothed her features, attempting really hard not to show how the older woman's words had affected her. She groaned at the ceiling, pointing at her with a quiet laugh. "Ugh. Is there some kind of code to friendly patrons who cook delicious treats to throw some insightful detail about couples? Did he ask you to tell me this?"

"No, this is just me being awesome. Or a meddler. For free," Granny admitted, leaving her pancakes in front of her as she took them from the little window connecting the diner with the back kitchen. Oh, God, they smelled good.

Picking up her fork in one hand, she pointed at her with it, one eyebrow quirked upwards. "No wonder he keeps coming back. You are too fun."

Granny only cackled at that, the wrinkles in her eyes widening as she smiled back at her. "I knew I'd like you."

Emma set out to try the pancakes - which looked fantastic: mushy, golden brown and drenched in honey - just as the bell on the door ringed merrily when Killian entered again, taking his seat beside her once again, pocketing his phone and a bemused expression on his face.

"Hey - what did Jeff want?"

He just shook his head, looking half annoyed and amused at the same time. Oh, boy. What had happened? "I'm dreading it already. I knew they were planning something - the other day they were being bloody obvious about something but didn't want to tell me, claiming it was a surprise. He told me they're expecting us in the studio to 'open it'," he finished, making air quotes with his fingers.

She studied him curiously as she cut another bite of the pancake. God, they were good. "Me too?"

"Yep, apparently Red Lips is on it too. In fact, she asked him to pass along the message to you, - as you have been neglecting your phone - to check your texts, where she has instructed what outfit you should wear and that you'll thank her later."

Fucking hell. She had forgotten to even take a look at her phone - Ruby was going to be onto her like a wolf. Crap, crap, crap. There was _no way_ she was going to get out f this. And the planned outfit thing didn't sound so promising either - knowing Ruby, they could end up going on a safari or something wearing heels. Though the last time she had played her into something like this she had been secretly glad that she had listened to her.

She wouldn't have been too pleased if she had worn flip flops to a blind date. Which had been a disaster either way, but yeah, whatever.

Swallowing loudly, she exchanged a worried glance with him. "I'm scared."

"Me too."

"They won't have us wearing some ridiculous costume, will they?" She wouldn't put it past her friend - and her persuasion with boys, she was sure no one, not even The Lost Boys would be able to put a stop to her crazy ideas. Killian's eyes widened in fear.

"I don't think so?"

They both turned their heads towards the giggling patron, who had been listening to their conversation trying not to laugh. "Now I really wanna meet your friend too, she sounds like fun," she commented, still chuckling. She served Killian his own plate, and right before she left to attend some other client, he called out to her.

"Oh, Granny - serve her a cocoa, please." Granny nodded and left, and Emma shook her head, her free hand going to her belly, petting it fondly.

"Too much chocolate lately, I'll get out of here rolling instead of walking." No, really. Her chocolate whore self was winning too many battles lately. She had no self-control left whatsoever.

And not only concerning chocolate, or so it seemed.

Killian leaned in closer to her, his lips nearly tickling her cheek. "I know a way to exercise it out..."

She shivered in response, lips parted as she tried to come up with any kind of response. What was she supposed to say? Emma, you were not like this before.

See? This is where her self-control had left the building, not caring about the deer-caught-in-the-highlights looking-girl left in its wake. Oh God.

She was saved by the bell when a porcelain mug was slammed down in front of her, and inner-chocolate-whore Emma was back in place.

"For the awesome lady cool enough to throw a glass of champagne in Jones' face. You like whipped cream?" Granny asked aloud as Emma grasped the mug in her hands protectively, a finger going to taste the cream at the top.

"Yeah, thank you," she acknowledged, and right before she could take it to her lips, she saw a hand pouring something over her cocoa. Outraged, she gasped at Killian, who kept spilling whatever it was over her mug. "What are you doing?"

He stopped and showed her the jar. "Cinnamon, right?"

Fuck. She was screwed.

_Totally. Screwed._

* * *

"I have to say, I'm slightly disappointed. When I heard Red Lips had chosen an outfit for you, I was expecting something more..."

"I'm not sure you want to finish that sentence," she threatened as she came out of her bedroom, examining closely the clothes her friend had asked her to wear. Well, more like _commanded_ her to wear, while they were at it. It didn't give much away as to what they were planning for the day, now that she thought of it - worn-out boots, loose-fitting tank and the shorts she had made her buy months ago claiming _'they make your ass downright bitable'_.

She wasn't sure if that was true, but she _did_ like them, even if they were kind of torn - or, as Mary Margaret insisted on correcting her, _'fashionably torn'_. Because, you know, all those holes are strategically cut and not left out to chance.

As she threw on some pendant she kept hanging over her lamp, she thought she saw a glimmer coming from the living room. Making her way there as she closed the clasp behind her neck with one hand while the other held her hair out of the way, she found her laptop laying forgotten by the cushions on the couch, screen glowing as the screensaver worked, showing a queue of pictures set out by Henry - from their trips together, some of her working, others of him with Regina and Daniel, at David's, with Ruth...

Had it been on all night? "Oh, crap - Henry left this on." She sat on the couch and set it on her legs, ready to turn it off. She spied the wire attached, so at least it had been plugged, if that counted for something. Tapping on the mouse area, she spied the tabs he had been checking before he had so carelessly left the laptop there - Youtube, her e-mail, - which was pretty much always running, - and wait, why on Earth would he open her twitter? She should have a talk with him about this - she didn't really want to imagine her son turned into one of those internet-addicted, social network obsessed kids. Funny enough, if he was, why would he use hers?

She kept closing tab after tab impatiently, eager to leave, when a couple of her mentions on the twitter one caught her attention - as it wasn't just her name they were mentioning.

_Does Jones_LostBoy really need birthday presents, having ESwan by his side? Happy Birthday, Captain! :)_

Oh. Hell. No.

"Oh hell no what?," she heard him behind her, and she whirled around to find him leaning against the doorway, waiting for her as he dangled the keys of his car on his finger, completely oblivious to her sudden revelation. Cool, Emma, now you don't even realize when you're actually talking out loud. She gave him a calculated stare in return - was it really the wanker's birthday and he hadn't said anything?

"...is it your birthday?," she inquired, still somewhat dazed. He froze, his gaze lost ahead of him until he blinked in confusion.

"What day is it?"

Did she look like a fucking calendar? She took a glimpse on the upper side of the laptop's screen. "May 4th."

He let out a loud groan, and for a fleeting moment she considered making fun of him. He rubbed his forehead with his hand, his voice coming out defeated. "Oh, crap... I should have known. That's why they're planning something. I somehow feared it'd be something having to do with you or the album and not this. I'm so stupid."

Well, acceptance was always the first step, she guessed.

Yet she still couldn't quite grasp how he hadn't even been aware that _it was his own fucking birthday._ "You really didn't remember it was your birthday?"

He turned annoyed eyes to her, a frown between his eyebrows. "Did I say something? No, I didn't remember - if you hadn't noticed, I've been quite busy lately. I barely know what day of the week it is."

That, she knew. Closing the laptop carefully and leaving it on the table sitting in the living room, she got up and walked back to her room, passing by him as he followed her, her shoulders slumped in defeat. She wasn't sure why she felt so bad about not having known until then that it was his birthday - she guessed it had something to do with her days in foster care and how no one would give a shit about it, making them the more special since she had found her family with David and Ruth later on. She had put special care in each one of her friends' and family's - looking for thoughtful presents, trying to make their day as something unique, something for them. To make them feel special. Because they were. For her.

Would that mean then that she considered him special, too? She didn't want to even go there. Not now. Not yet.

"Now I feel like crap," she commented with a sigh as she picked up her purse from her room, putting away her phone, wallet, sunnies and whatever crap she felt like bringing with her to whatever it was they were attending. Just as she was leaving for the door, expecting him to follow her, he gripped her upper forearms from behind, turning her on the spot and making her face him, a startled expression on his face. "Are you kidding me? As if last night wasn't a good present enough?"

She couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes at him. "Of course you'd go with that."

Though if that had been her birthday present, she wouldn't have complained, now that they were at it.

_Emma. No._

He tugged at her hand and pouted at her. Gosh, this guy had so many tricks to use against women, it wasn't even funny. Fuck him. "Come on. Don't be silly."

"I'm not silly, it's your birthday!" She knew she was acting like a child. She only had left stomping her foot on the floor and crying against a wall.

Well, it was about time she was the one acting like a girl, when it was him and his friends pulling off the 'lost boy' card every fucking time they could.

He let his head fall back, breathing heavily as if asking for patience to deal with her. "And we're probably going to some party or whatever with these idiots - can you complain about that?" Not waiting for an answer from her, he clasped her hand in his and dragged her towards the front door, making her nearly lose her balance as she followed him - quite involuntarily. "Let's go, miss."

She tried to catch up with his step as they left her place and made their way towards his car, fingers lacing together. It was slightly unnerving - and exhilarating - to explore how right it felt to have their hands joined. Like they belonged, like if they always had, yet they hadn't known until then. Maybe it was that why she hadn't let go yet.

"You're unusually bossy. I bet it's your way of claiming power by your newfound older age," she jeered at him, sarcasm dripping from her tongue. He turned unamused eyes towards her, one eyebrow quirked upwards.

"Look who's talking, Miss Bossypants..." Dragging her towards him, he wrapped an arm around her as he leaned in to murmur in her ear, voice full of mischief, "I recall you ordering me around last night."

And, of course, she shivered. Because she had, indeed, ordered him around. Did he have to make her think of every fucking detail of their night together? Really? It wasn't enough that she was replaying it in her head, no, he had to be an obnoxious tease and throw it in her face? I can do that on my own, no help needed bro, thank you very much.

She let go of him and got in the passenger's seat, grumbling under her breath in exasperation, "stop it."

"See?"

_AGH_.

The victory in his tone was the last shred of sanity she had left until she burst out laughing, shoulders shaking and tears nearly forming in her eyes at the hilarity of the situation. He kept teasing her and bantering back and forth during the drive to the studio, where the rest of the band and who knew who else were waiting for them. They fought over the radio-picking-songs rights - which had been for her after she had begged not to play his albums for once, - who wore better their shades - he claimed he had won but she kept reminding him that his shades were just more hipster and therefore gave him a somewhat cooler look, - and who had managed to get Nana to like better since they had gotten her.

That one they hadn't agreed on. Probably because Nana didn't really tell apart when she was giving out her love, not caring it if was Henry, her, Killian, the postman or a kid running past her when they walked her. She was _that_ sweet.

Once they got to the parking lot and got out of the car, Emma stopped in her tracks, waiting for him to join her before they got in. She pursed her lips, debating wether to ask him or not something that was actually killing her - because that was what she did: think, and guess, and suspect, and speculate, and worry, and hammer her head against a wall due to overexertion of brain activity over stupid things, when it could all be solved by actually t-a-l-k-i-n-g. Her eyes briefly scanned around them, just in case, and she met his curious stare when he reached her side. "Are you..." Her voice faltered for a moment, and she cleared her throat, adamant on speaking up. "Are you going to tell them?"

He watched her carefully. "Are you going to tell Red Lips or Mary Margaret?"

Of course he'd answer with a question of his own. Shaking her head in frustration, she was more than _not_ ready to face Ruby right now. Dreading it, was more like it. "I don't think I'll even be able to hide it. She pretty much will smell it or something. Always has."

She really had. Sometimes she'd just barge into her room when they were staying in their dorm in San Francisco during uni years and, sniffing the air, would state confidently how _'someone had gotten laid in here tonight'_.

She still had no idea how she did it. Though she guessed the whole dorm-room-smelling-like-sex-thing wasn't so special, really. Everybody knew what went down in those rooms.

Thin walls, you see.

Breaking away from her thoughts, she brought her attention back to Killian, who squared his shoulders and took a deep calming breath before turning towards her once more, keys in hand jingling merrily as he tapped them in rapid succession with jittery fingers. "Look, I really don't care about telling them or not - if you don't want me to, I won't, but to be honest I'm in no mood to play games." The nearly pleading tone laced to his words rendered her momentarily speechless. He tugged at the hair on the back of his head, teeth nipping at his bottom lip. "I just - can we please try to do what feels right?"

She squinted her eyes at him, even while her stomach was right then fluttering in an I'm-a-teenager-full-of-hormones-and-feelings way. "What feels right?"

He gave her a sheepish grin, nodding. "Yeah. I told you last night - you are afraid of taking what makes you happy. Well, I've been miserable long enough, I'm not about to make the same mistake again." He came closer to her until he stood inches apart from her body, his eyes level with hers, and she swore she could count every single shade of blue in those eyes of his. Fuck, were they blue. "If I want to kiss you, I will. If I want to hold your hand, I will. If I want to touch you, I will." He pulled away from her - a little, tiny bit, but for Killian Jones personal-space-invader, this was probably a huge step. Good for him. "So. What do you say? Care to let go with me?"

He was offering her his hand. Once again.

Just like he had when he had asked her to trust him, right before he showed her Nana. What he had done for Henry, for her.

Even though in this case, he was asking her something completely different. He was asking her to start over, to have clean slate between them. To let him in. To let herself go.

And God, she knew she wanted now. Because if she had denied herself the possibility of feeling closer to someone - anybody, any man, the comfort a girl would seek from a boy, the intimacy surging between them after getting to know each other, sharing secrets, whispered endearments and lingering touches, - after what she had been through, she knew it had taken a long way down until she could properly open up to the chance of finding it, most of all with him.

And hell, had it been one fun ride for both of them. Worth a couple of articles, she thought to herself with a chuckle.

Bringing her attention back to his question, Emma let her hand clasp his as her face broke into a small grin. "Okay."

And with that simple word, she had sealed her fate. For now, at least. Just - let nature keep its course and all that crap, right?

And right now, nature seemed intent in wanting to fuck her over or kill her, because the mirth and joy in Killian Jones' face could probably be the reason why her heart failed, or she fainted, or something equally girly. Squeezing her hand, he dragged her to the front door. "That's my girl. Now, let's find out what these have for us."

They got in, expecting someone to welcome them, but only silence greeted them as they made their way towards the studio, their footsteps echoing in the empty hallways. Killian's annoyed voice huffed ahead of her, "why are there no balloons or banners? I'm a bit disappointed..."

Just as she was about to reprimand him for being constantly disappointed today - first with her outfit, which she still had had nothing to do with, and now this - she jumped, startled, a hand coming to her chest to try to calm her racing heart when a bunch of people - of _losers_ to be more precise, she grumbled to herself - showed up from behind the table, the glass pane separating both the recording booth and the studio, the couch, and whatever surface that would provide any kind of protection against newcomers' vision.

"Happy Birthday!," the whole band, Ruby, Graham and Aurora all yelled in unison, some of them even daring to add different voices. Huh. Musicians, really. What a bunch of show-offs. Right before they all came rushing to them, she felt the need to remark at him, "well, at least you got the sudden screaming all at once while they jump out from behind the furniture..."

He gave her an unamused smile as his bandmates surrounded him, clapping him on the back and hugging him excitedly. Philip turned to her, beaming, openly enthusiastic about the whole deal. Aw. He was cute when he was so flushed. "You weren't expecting it, right?"

Killian snorted at her side, shaking his head. "Well, Swan found out it was my birthday on the way here, so we were trying to guess what you were up to."

August showed up beside her, munching on a bag of chips, offering it to her silently - which she declined, thinking back to the pancakes she had all but devoured that morning. Gah, she already missed those. "Didn't you get a ton of texts and calls congratulating you? I know my dad did, but you didn't pick it up last night, nor this morning until Jeff called..."

Ha.

Could this be anymore awkward for her? Sure, let's just try not to stare pointedly at him while he answers about his more than obvious ignoring attitude towards his phone last night.

He was, somewhat, _busy_.

"I was busy." Oh, fucking hell, was he _reading her mind_ now or what? Emma, poker face. Don't worry. Now it's not the time to tell them about whatever happened last night. Her lips twitched involuntarily as she heard him clearing his throat, adamantly attempting to change subjects. Smart boy. "So... where's the party?"

Victor shook his head, Ruby at his side giving Emma a look. "No party... today at least."

"Then what are we doing here?," she mused aloud, disconcerted. Why had they told them to go there then?

The bassist gave them a smug smile, clearly enjoying their unease at being left in the dark. "I said there's no party here right now today... but we're going somewhere. All of us," he added, making a circling motion with his hand, including all of them. Right when Emma was going to really stomp her foot in irritation - because really, there was a time and a place for this kind of teasing and she was not in the mood now - when Ruby waved some tickets right in front of her face, making her pull back slightly and squint her eyes to actually read the bold black letters.

Coachella.

She inhaled sharply, and she whipped her head so fast, she thought she heard a crack coming from her neck. Whatever. "You're kidding."

"No we're not," they all echoed as Killian took the tickets from Ruby's hands, inspecting them intently. Ruby came to her and looped an arm though hers, bumping her hip against her playfully. "See why I told you about the outfit? You look perfectly hipster and prepared for the festival!"

Oh God. No wonder her friend had been so specific about that, then. Tugging at her pendant nervously, she growled at her, but without the usual threat she'd usually muster her words with, because hello, they were going to _Coachella_. "I am going to kill you."

Her friend openly laughed, excitement clear in her voice as she practically squealed. "No you're not. We're watching all of these bands and we're going to have a blast!"

"Yep, so we'd better get going - queues are a fucking pain in the ass, the sooner we get there, the better!," Jefferson stated after clapping twice and waving his hands towards the door, ushering them to leave so they could drive there, she guessed. Emma felt herself standing beside Killian, whose eyes sought her, a question in them.

A really simple question, really.

"Coachella?," he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Coachella," she agreed.

* * *

"Hot damn."

"Indeed. What a hunk."

Both Ruby, Aurora and Emma were sitting on the ground, legs crossed, enjoying the calm before the storm - or, rather, the moment they'd decide to swim in the sea of bodies who had claimed their place in front of the main stage of the open area, some of them sitting just like them, others already on their feet braving the hot temperature and drunk attendees with no apparent care for elbowing whoever they encountered in their way. Even if both she and Ruby quite liked the band playing at the moment, they had agreed that they would rather watch from afar this number until the next one as to save their energies - the one Emma was dying to attend, as it was one of her favorites and she had never seen them live until then. She should consider being way more grateful to Ruby and Killian for this, now that she thought about it.

The ride to the closed area near Palm Springs had been uneventful - they just had come to terms with the fact that spending the day at the festival would be less the relaxed day-in-the-park as its gorgeous grounds would suggest at first and more like getting inside a whirling hurricane, pinballing from one of the stages to another crazily crisscrossing the vast fields of Coachella Festival. After breezing into the parking and getting their shiny green wristbands from the gate-check guards - one of whom, funnily enough, had turned into a complete fanboy over the guys and had asked for a picture with them before he let them pass - they had finally gotten to the Empire Polo Fields, and the band-hunting adventure had started. They had enjoyed a couple of the first numbers playing, and had decided to split up for a while, as the band and Graham had decided to go to the bathroom while the three girls waited for them.

The wait was being oddly satisfying, Emma mused, staring longingly at the hot-as-fuck frontman's face on the gigantic screens framing the main stage. Yep. She could get used to this. She had just a margarita in her hand or something left for it to be perfect.

Ruby kept her rather uninhibited scrutiny of the singer along with her, licking her lips and eyes hooded. "Why haven't we run into him at any party yet?"

"I don't know, but I certainly wouldn't mind... Aurora what do you think?"

The blue-eyed girl's voice came dazed and dreamy, her eyes not leaving the screen - just like the two of them. Boy, did this guy have some kind of power over women. "I'm trying really hard not to drool okay. But I'd watch your step around me very soon."

Emma laughed, amused by her friend's reactions, and jerked her head to her right when she felt a shadow falling over her. She put a hand on her face to shield it from the light so she could see who it was - though of course she knew it'd be them. Killian flashed her a grin as he sat down beside her, his head cocking to the side as he observed the screen they had been drooling over for a while. Emma examined him carefully, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips at his sudden interest in the other band. "You checking out the competition or what?"

He didn't bother to even look back at her - instead he let out a chortle, nodding in the stage's direction. "Those losers? Pfffff. Amateurs, really."

"Have nothing to do with us," Jefferson added as he lay on the ground behind them, his voice coming out muffled under his cap, now covering his face as to not get sunburns, she guessed.

For all their planning, Ruby had not counted on sun screen. Bitch.

Ruby squinted her eyes at Victor, now sitting at her side, an arm draped over her shoulder and hugging her to his side, rubbing gentle circles on her forearm. Aw. So cute, those two. Emma felt like a proud momma bear just looking at them. "Then why aren't you guys playing?"

"Because we don't want to. Duh," Killian answered before Victor could say anything as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Sure you don't," she teased. He turned towards her, poking her in the arm and making her squeal in response.

"Shut up, Swan. This is supposed to be a holiday, remember?"

"I thought it was a present?," she reminded him. It was, after all.

His eyes met hers, a glint in them as he stared at her intently. "Whatever. Just - enjoy." After a while, though, as Jefferson had nearly dozed off under the sun and the rest of them had exchanged more stories and plans Emma was ready to hear or spill, Killian leaned over to her, his breath hot in her ear as he whispered, "care to join me for a drink, m'lady?"

Emma, no, don't let him see you shiver just because he whispered to you. "You planning on getting wasted and embarrassing me?"

He wiped his brow of the thin line of sweat gathered in there, shaking his head in mock annoyance. "Such faith in me. Actually no, I'm just thirsty."

She was too.

"Are you really?"

His eyes briefly scanned their surroundings until he dipped his head in her direction again, adding in a hushed tone, "maybe I'm just trying to get you alone."

Emma didn't know wether to hit him for being so insistent or feel pleased by it. See how screwed she was? When all of these tricks and pick up lines of his would have made her roll her eyes and scoff at him, now they made her want to scoff and roll her eyes too - but less, a sudden affection coursing through her whenever he came up with another one of his pet names and his perseverance at her softening to him. She wiped a strand of dark hair from his sweaty forehead with her fingers - _God_, was it soft, she couldn't even take it, especially when she had finally been able to get her hands on it the night before; she had nearly spent an hour running her fingers through it after they were done, marveling at its preciousness, - and petted his arm as she resumed her earlier conversation with Aurora and Philip.

It was coming to be quite difficult to focus, as he kept rubbing his nose against her arm and shoulder, - with exactly what intention, she wasn't sure, though she guessed it'd be a mix between trying to get her attention and completely and utter boredom, - making her squirm in her place at the sudden tickling sensation and the tenderness of his actions. She dropped her gaze to him, huffing impatiently when she spied him smirking against her skin. "You're acting like Nana, for God's sake." Getting on her feet and wiping her hands on her shorts, she held out her hand to help him up. "Come on, we'll get you something to drink."

"Look at you, being all concerned for your man."

"I am not, I am just preventing you from dehydrating on me. And you were just whining about it!"

He draped an arm around her shoulders, shrugging lightly. "I know. But it's nice to see you actually listening."

Staring intently at her boots, - just in case she fell; she _really_ didn't need everybody to find out what a klutz she was while walking a rather uneven surface in non-heeled shoes, - she caught her bottom lip between her teeth. "Maybe I did listen to you before, just... wasn't so willing to acknowledge it."

"So stubborn," he accused her with a fond smile.

She shrugged again, her hand coming up to put a curl behind her ear. "Never claimed to be perfect."

"What if I think you are?"

..._what_ had he just said?

Her voice coming out a little shaky, she smoothed her features, trying to appear cool. "I'd say you're pretty stupid but whatever. Wipe the stars out of your eyes, buddy."

His fingers tightened on her forearm, and she lifted her head to look back at him, his eyes crinkling as he spoke. "Let me rephrase it: what if I think you're perfectly imperfect?"

She faked to be pondering seriously over his words, tapping her finger on her mouth. "That sounds promising. Go on."

"There's no more. Just - you are. And I am. So we are. And we fit."

Emma inhaled sharply. Because, for everything that she had been wondering and worrying about all day, that was one of the conclusions she may have had to come across since she had let herself to admit what was going on. "Oh, we do?," she whispered breathlessly.

His lips twitched, bringing her closer to him with his arm. "You want me to show you again how well we fit?"

Of course he'd go with something like that. She shook her head at him, cupping her cheek with her hand, giving him her best _'what am I going to do with you'_ face. "And this started so romantic."

"My, my, now you are a romantic?"

"I am not!"

She was _not_. She was the realistic one in her family! He ignored her protests though, tickling her and dragging her along to the stands lined up in one of the venues. "Come here, you fluff lover."

* * *

"Here: she loves me, she loves me not. She loves me, she loves me not..."

Killian was plucking the petals off a daisy they had been offered by some weird hippie girl who had been too far gone for her own good and had been giving flowers out like she was somehow baptizing everybody she ran into. In fact, Emma had ended up with at least a dozen of them, unable to shake off the attempts of the girl trying to embrace her in her arms - even if she hadn't even realized who she was, which had been a miracle per se.

Though everybody around them _had_, of course.

She spoke over him, her hand rubbing her neck tiredly. "I think it'd be better if we said what really goes on: she hates me, she wants to punch me, she actually likes me a little bit, she wants to do bad things to me, she doesn't truly hate me..."

"And here I kept telling myself you two weren't the weirdest couple I'd ever met. Yet you make it work," Graham commented as he sat at her left, observing Killian with his daisy with amusement. The frontman in question just raised his brow at him.

"I know right? All thanks to you, mate."

Emma cocked her head to the side in thought. Huh. She guessed it was true - she had met them all at the Gala thanks to Graham.

What a small world indeed.

"By the way - you ready for Europe yet?," Graham inquired, bumping her shoulder with his. At that, Killian stopped playing with his flower - Emma would have never thought she'd ever say something like that in her entire life, yet here she was, - and raised his eyes, those elvish ears of his nearly perking up. Aw, the ears.

"Europe?"

Graham nodded, confused at his question. "Yeah, we're leaving in two weeks to do promo over there - premieres in London, Paris, Madrid, Berlin and Rome."

"Woah. How long are you guys staying there?"

Emma sighed, already dreading the trip. Even if she was excited to travel and visit whatever she could - even though she suspected she wouldn't be able to see much, as she'd end up working most of her time there - she was a bit tired of it all already. Stupid promo. "A week and a half. Gosh, we're gonna be so freaking jetlagged when we're done with it, I'll probably sleep for an entire month when we're back."

Graham sent her a glare. "Swan, I'm _dreading_ flying with you okay - you get so chatty when you're asleep on the plane."

_NO_.

The ears perked up again. As she had feared. "She does? Please do tell."

"Why do you always ask him to fill you in on my embarrassing stories?," she groaned, sending him a withering glance.

"Because otherwise I wouldn't find out about them!"

Graham seemed more than happy to share with him whatever he felt like telling. As always. Was this some kind of Irish thing orchestrated between the two of them to make her uncomfortable - and embarrassed? "Dude, once she punched me. Actually punched me in the face. So be careful when you two share the sheets."

"I was dreaming about you being an ass to me!"

In fact, she had dreamed he cheated on her - which was hilarious, because they had never even dated, but whatever. Dreams, man. So weird. Payback, dream Graham. No one messes with dream Emma Swan!

He huffed, pointing at her threateningly. "I don't care - you punched me, awoke me from _my_ dream, and when I tried to ask you about it you pretended you were still asleep because you felt guilty about it!"

She had, indeed. And she didn't feel the least sorry about it.

Well, now that that was out of the way...

"Pffft please, once we were sharing a bed during a trip and she suddenly sat, stared ahead of her and said 'Jon Bon Jovi'."

_OH MY GOD._

_EVERYTHING BUT THAT._

"What?" Graham, Victor and Killian were already in stitches. Fucking Ruby, what the hell?

Her friend went on, ignoring her silent plea for her to shut the fuck up those pretty red lips of hers. "Uh-huh. And went back to sleep like nothing had happened. I was so spooked - I thought she had been exorcised or whatever."

Okay, that had been enough for her damaged pride for an entire day. She groaned loudly and, to make her feelings on the matter clear and remark her dramatic outing, she laid on the ground, using Killian's leg as an improvised pillow, burying her face against the rough material of his jeans, letting it muffle the conversation still going around her as she closed her eyes. Warm fingers started playing lazily with tresses of her hair, moving them around in determined motions, and she let the soothing rhythm he was keeping lull her, until she felt them stop. She opened one eyelid to see a strand now neatly arranged in a braid, and she locked astonished eyes with his.

"Where did you learn how to make those?"

He gave her a sheepish grin, shrugging lightly. "Oh, you'd be surprised what you can learn from an eight-year-old girl."

"Grace taught you?" Why was he trying to kill her with such stupidly _sweet_ background information? It was not fair. This guy was out for her, she just knew it.

He stroked his chin, tearing his eyes from hers. "I had to learn from a tutorial to teach her, actually." He brought his hand up again in her direction, offering her something. "Here."

She frowned. "What's that?"

He showed her one of the daisies he still had left. "A flower. Come on, wear it. Isn't that, like, the motto of Coachella?"

He was trying to make her wear a flower. In her hair.

_Ha_.

Good luck, buddy.

"Yeah, I think I'll pass," she said, sitting up again, her back to him as she went to ask Graham about the next number they were watching and if they should move already or stay for a little more. She had to admit she enjoyed the quiet in there, rather than the craziness of the audience right up near the stage, though she knew she'd be in there sooner than later. Suddenly, new tugs on her hair halted her. "What are you doing?"

"Braiding your hair. Now shut up."

Ignoring him, she went on to discuss with her costar about the groups they should check out and the ones they would be able to or not depending on the clashing timetables in the different stages. Just when they were deciding which would be their next step, with the help from Jefferson, who had finally come back from his sudden nap, an admiring squeal came from Aurora. "Oh Emma, it looks great on you!"

She lifted an eyebrow at her, confused. Had the sun affected her or something...? "What does?"

"The flower!"

What? Petting her head awkwardly, she palmed the daisy propped on her ear, the stem interwoven with the strands conforming the braid keeping it in place. She whipped her head back to the instigator, who just smirked at her, seemingly pleased with his work. "You cheater!"

"Everything's fair in love and war, sweetheart. And this started like a mix of both," he admitted, still smirking. Just as she was about to retort something, August's voice interrupted them.

"Killian, come here! We're checking out the Mojave tent! You coming?"

His eyes lit up, and Emma remembered how he had explained her about that specific stage being directed at smaller venues and songwriters. "Sure." He leaned over her and kissed her forehead quickly before getting up and leaving along with the rest of the band and Graham, Aurora deciding to join Philip after having spent most of her time with Ruby. "I'll be back."

She stared dazedly behind him, still trying to figure out what the hell _that_ had been. They had agreed they'd act on whatever they felt like, but... damn, wasn't that, like... quite intimate?

"Well, that was interesting," Ruby commented.

_Oh, here we go._ "What was?"

"Don't even try to play innocent with me. Something's changed."

Well, maybe she wouldn't play innocent - she could play other thing. She could play coy. She could play idiot. She waved a hand at her friend, clucking her tongue impatiently. "Of course something has changed. If we had kept being like from the start, this would be a nightmare."

"Emma."

Okay. Not working. Ugh, why did best friends had to read each other so well? Letting her shoulders slump in defeat, she let her eyes focus on the vast expanse of field in front of them, the thousands of people wandering around the open area like tiny dark dots in the distance ahead of her moving in disorganized groups from here to there. "We slept together."

Let the screeching begin. "WHAT? When?"

"Last night." Had it been not really twenty-four hours yet? God.

Ruby let out a victorious '_aha_!', her expression gleeful. "That's why you didn't pick up your phone."

Good one, Sherlock. "Yeah, I wasn't really paying attention to it," she admitted, trying not to smile as she recalled Killian's '_I was busy'_ earlier when faced with the same question.

"Okay, I wanna hear all about the details later, but first things first. What is really going on? Maybe you slept together but I know you. You don't just jump into bed with a guy. And how come you did with a guy who has been spending so much time with you, who has met your family - hell, he even acts all daddy-oh with your son!"

And this was why she had been fearing this conversation with her best friend. She always knew what to say to fret even more about what she had already been worrying about in the first place. Even if she did it for her own good.

The best thing about her, though?

She always managed to get the most honest response out of her.

"I wish I knew. I mean - we've been through so much now. He's still a pain in the ass, he's arrogant, he's smug, he's so clueless sometimes about the most obvious things, yet I... I find myself lighter, better when I'm with him. Happier. Even if he's just driving me completely nuts or we're fighting about the most stupid thing."

An awkward silence filled the space between the two girls, until the brunette looked at her friend under her lashes, a wondering expression on her face. "I thought you believed he was just an asshole. A famous pretty boy."

Emma felt a pang of annoyance and frustration at her words - and even remorse. "You know he's not. And I was wrong when I first met him. There's much more to him than meets the eye, and that he'd somehow share it with me - it makes you feel special, you know?" God, she had nearly stuttered there.

She was in for good.

Unable to meet Ruby's eyes, she kept hers fixed on the main stage, the crew men changing the set for the new act until she finally heard her sigh heavily. "I'm both glad and scared now."

Emma frowned in spite of herself. "Scared? Why?"

"Because I haven't seen you talk about a guy like this since you-know-who."

That was what she had feared - and what David had warned her about when they had first been about to sign that contract; how she had fallen for another cocky bastard, and how it had not ended that well. But, oddly enough, Emma wasn't afraid, or felt any kind of remorse about what she had agreed with him.

Which in result made her worry - the fact that she wasn't at least partially wary about it, that was.

Breaking away from her thoughts, she brought her attention back to her friend, questioning her in a hushed whisper, "I'm screwed, right?"

Grinning like a Cheshire cat, Ruby's arm came around her, holding her to her side warmly. "Well, I hear you got screwed already but yeah. It'll be okay, though. Now - spill!"

* * *

"Oh, God, those guys again - I'm soooo sick of them," Emma moaned once they were all huddled together on one side of the main stage, ready for the concert she had been expecting since she had learned they were coming to Coachella to start. The whole band gave her affronted looks - as it was one of _their_ songs blasting the speakers while they waited.

"You're hilarious, really," Killian drawled in a bored tone.

She lifted her chin, a small smile tugging at her lips as she made a point of looking all around them. "Cue to everybody swooning over you..."

They all started debating about the obvious interest the fangirls shared way too explicitly on the web and how some of those had probably scarred them for life, when Emma heard her name being mentioned behind her. She frowned, disconcerted - why would someone talk about _her_ in here? Had someone recognized her? Well, she guessed it wouldn't be so hard, all things considered - it was not like she had been trying to hide too much since they had gotten there. She had seen plenty of paps out and about trying to get a glimpse of the random celebrities who, like her and her friends, had planned to spend the day at the venue - and how some of them had chased her and Killian down when they had been walking around together earlier.

She just wished the hippie drunk girl incident would be out of the pictures, or she would probably die of embarrassment.

Something tickled her hand, and she raised her eyes to Killian, who was nodding with his head behind him, signaling that he had heard the girls talking about her too. She flashed him a smug grin, mouthing _"see? I'm way more popular than you, loser". _Her smile started to fade slowly, though, as the conversation was clear and loud in her ears.

"I don't understand what Killian Jones sees in her? And she's so obviously fucking the other guy from her movie, that Graham Humbert guy! I really don't get it! They're both so fucking hot and she's getting it from both of them? So unfair."

She stood rooted to the spot, her cheeks burning from shame and rage and gritting her teeth almost painfully, every cell in her body screaming at her to turn around and slap that bitch. She curled her hands into fists, mustering all of her self-control not to do what her body so vehemently was telling her to - yet she knew she wouldn't. She had come to terms long ago how she would not be able to please everybody, and how some would like her, some would not - how some would even hate her, even not knowing a thing about her.

That was the thing about fame. You only showed what you wanted, and Emma had kept most of her hidden, all to protect herself, her family and her life - until now.

However, she assumed it had always been like this - even if she had never known about it, or had been faced with such a crass reaction before.

She was so caught up in her internal berating that she hadn't even realized that Killian had left her side and was purposefully walking over to the couple of girls, obliviously still discussing between themselves. She lunged after him, gripping his t-shirt in her hand, but he ignored her and kept going. "Killian, what..."

He tapped the one who had been hating on her, a polite smile gracing his mouth as he waved politely. "Hey girls! The name's Killian Jones, but I guess you know that, huh?"

Oh, God. Emma put her face on her hand, her pulse picking up pace waiting for the horrible consequences of his stupid stunt. What did he think he was doing? The girls, on the other hand, were clearly having an out-of-body experience, disbelievingly staring at him with wide eyes and completely dazzled in his presence. "Yes! Yes, of course we know who you are!"

He flashed them a smile, yet Emma, from where she stood could clearly see how he was baring his teeth - ready to lunge. "Good! Now, I don't wanna sound rude, but sadly I overheard your conversation - no, no, please, I am talking now and it's bad form to interrupt," he tut-tud'ed them, as if he were a teacher correcting his young students. He turned his head back to her, his eyes seeking hers, and pointed at her as he brought back his gaze towards the now contrite-looking girls. "See - that woman over there? She heard you too, and while she's not going to come over here and slap the hell out of you for being so extraordinarily rude and prejudicial because she is way too classy, _I_ can. Lucky for you, I won't make a scene here, but just letting you know how wrong you are about that woman, and how you'd never stand a chance against her in every stupid notion you may try to compare yourself to her. Not only is she caring, funny, fierce, honest, talented and beyond beautiful - she's loyal, protective and, what's more important, can give a hell of a punch, so I'd be careful next time if I were you." There was a pregnant pause in which he just stood there, not a hint of humor or warmth in his expression, glaring menacingly at them - and, as soon as it came, it left, sending them a new smile, inclining his head politely. "Good day, ladies."

He whirled around, leaving the pair in his wake staring dejectedly and with remorse etched on their faces at his retreating back as he resumed his position right beside her, his arm curling around her middle. She could feel the tension coiled up in him, his spine straightened and the clenching of his jaw, and the raging emotions inside her rendered her speechless. What was she supposed to say now? Should she smack him for being so stupid and confronting a couple of dumb bimbos? Or thank him for having her back?

Letting her head hang in defeat, she finally murmured, "you didn't have to do that, who knows what shit they'll say."

"Better crap that they were spewing anyway," he muttered in between clenched teeth. God, they had pissed him off alright.

"But what if they tell anyone?"

He shrugged, and she could feel the tension slowly leaving his body as he turned towards her once more. "What if they do? They'll look like assholes and I'll stand like the protective boyfriend. If they do say anything, it'll only make this look even better, right? No problem." Dragging her hand after him, he stopped as he realized she was making no attempt to follow him, and he studied her worriedly. "Emma?"

She inhaled sharply before words started spilling out of her lips, completely out of her control. "Thank you, I guess? I'm just - not used to someone fighting my battles. To putting me first," she finished, her voice choking a little as she uttered them, feeling like she was putting her out in the line as she spoke them to him. His hand came up and stroked her cheek, his eyes lingering in hers for a moment that could have gone on forever, for all that mattered to her.

"Well, then you should start practicing," he assured her. Pulling away from her, he gave her back a little push so she'd walk back to where their friends kept bantering back and forth in between laughs, unaware of the stand down that had transpired right behind them. "Come on, the show is about to start."

They had to spend another excruciatingly long hour of waiting - what was it with those waits, really? She tried to get a coherent answer from the musicians because, for the life of her, she had never understood what could take so long in between numbers apart from trying to piss off their audience. They just laughed at her, shrugging and claiming how they had nothing to do with that - they just followed orders and came out when they were told, like good boys.

_Yeah_, she snorted to herself. Good boys her ass.

Finally, the lights turned off, leaving the stage and the whole area filled with the expectantly adrenaline-filled audience in darkness, the only light coming from their brightly lit neon wristbands. A spotlight was switched on, and one by one, the musicians started filling the stage, taking their seats behind their instruments and promptly followed by the main singer, who kept waving excitedly while she stood behind the mic, ready to get started, the fans' screams, catcalls and whistles filling the air before the first notes of one of their songs marked the beginning of the main show.

"Someone looks excited!" Killian shouted in her ear so she'd listen to him in-between the chaos and complete pandemonium that had taken over their surroundings. Emma couldn't stop grinning as she waved her arms and bounced on her feet, a small part of her brain thanking Ruby over and over again for the boots she had bossed her into wearing, or she wouldn't have made it that far.

"Oh my God, she just looks so ethereal - she's like an elf goddess, ugh, just kill me already, I'm in heaven!," she screamed back, not stopping her enthusiastic dancing and singing of the lyrics she had memorized by heart after playing their albums over and over again for the past year. Ruby joined her, and they squealed in delight, letting the rush take over them, embracing every second of the brisk and beautiful night. Emma stared marveling at the figure running around the stage with a flowing dress that made her appear like she was floating across the theater in water, making her think of those dresses she had worn for the premieres and wishing she had been able to run along the red carpet in such fashion.

She let her head fall on Killian's chest for a moment in exhaustion halfway through the show, noticing belatedly how all of them in their clique were pumped with energy and sweaty after their continued jumping and singing. She looked up at him towering over her, and he grinned broadly at her, laughing at the flush in her cheeks and her sweaty forehead, until a hauntingly familiar melody was heard and she stood steadily on her feet again, the levels of furor inside of her easily matching Henry's in a sugar rush. "This is my favorite song of hers!"

She stood on the tip of her toes, annoyed at the awkwardly tall guy who had decided to block her view from the stage and singing enthusiastically the lyrics over and over when she heard Killian's voice once again behind her, startling her. "Hey Swan - wanna know how it feels to fly?"

"What - JONES! KILLIAN! KILLIAN!," she shrieked as he hoisted her up on his shoulders, her hands gripping his head at a complete loss of where to lock them as to not fall to her imminent death if they somehow lost balance. After a couple of seconds of terrifying doubt, his hands grasping her legs to keep her centered and able to somehow maintain her upright, she yelled back at him, infuriated, "I AM GOING TO KILL YOU, DO YOU HEAR ME."

"THESE TWO ARE SUCH IDIOTS!" she heard from her right, and confirmed with surprise that Victor had done the same to Ruby, who looked as spooked as she had been, her lips trembling in fear as her red nails clawed at the poor bassist's shoulders. Before she could promise her they'd kick their asses as soon as they were back on the ground, another shriek was heard at their side.

"PHILIP!"

"AURORA YOU TOO?"

Victor's yelling came from beneath them, both frustrated and delighted at their unease. "YOU THREE, STOP SCREECHING AND ENJOY!"

Emma exchanged a wary glance with Ruby until she focused once again on the lyrics of the song, now getting louder as the backup singers and drummers joined the already playing instruments along with her, and throwing all cares aside, let herself go, allowing the music flow into her, singing at the top of her lungs, waving her arms in synch with the rhythm set by the drum, blonde curls whipping from one side of her face to the other that had fallen from Killian's braid, and she held out her hand for Ruby to take. Fingers laced together, she let all the joy, the happiness and elation she felt overwhelm her, and it wasn't until the song was over in a magical succession of harmonies, now free in the spring night air, that she felt the dampness on her face.

A tug at her legs made her come back to her senses, and she felt a swooping sensation as she fell from her previous position over the whole crowd to stand back against Killian's arms, his hands steadying her at her hips as she set wobbly feet on the ground. He studied her as she fixed him with a dazzled look, his hand coming up to stroke her cheek. He froze, worried at the misty look in her gaze. "Hey - you OK?"

Emma gulped, her head bobbing up and down frantically and her face breaking into a grin. "Yeah. More than OK. Way more." She fisted her hands in his shirt, pulling him closer to her and pressed her lips to his fiercely, noticing how he stiffened for a second in surprise at her forwardness but recovering quickly, relaxing into the kiss so his mouth molded itself to fit hers. His hands shot out to bury themselves in her now probably ruined braid, the daisy on her ear precariously hanging in between her curls.

In that moment, Emma really believed that no matter how many cameras could be capturing this moment and how they could sell papers with their faces plastered all over their pages and she wouldn't even notice, nor care at all, - she would never get enough of him, of his taste, of his arms holding her to him.

And as she kissed him, there was a curious sensation inside of her - truly familiar with how she had felt when she had come down from Killian's shoulders and he had caught her when she had felt like she was going to fall before her feet touched the ground.

She guessed there was a reason they called it '_falling_ in love'.

* * *

After the band was long gone, they walked hand in hand to one side of the stage, a slow song from another concert in one of the other tents near the main one providing the score to their promenade along the field. They had agreed to meet the rest of the gang at the same place where they had been earlier while they went to fetch something to eat from the various stands, whatever it was as long as they could actually eat it - pizza, hotdogs, burgers, whatever. She studied her companion from the corner of her eye, tilting her chin up as she stopped in her tracks, making him face her. She let her forehead tip against his, their breath coming out in quiet gasps. "Is this real? Or is it part of the contract?," she inquired, her voice hoarse and gravelly.

He looked down at her, not pulling away and holding her hip possessively to him, rubbing circles in the exposed skin above her shorts. "It may be part of the deal, but why on earth couldn't it be real?"

She couldn't help but laugh at him, her own hand moving to curl around the back of his head and her fingers threading in his hair. "Why are you quoting Dumbledore?"

"Shut up and kiss me," he managed to muster in between chuckles, his mouth dipping fast to claim her lips with his once again. Just as she was about to let him know how okay she was with him shutting her up that way, a female drawl halted them, making her blood run cold.

"Well, isn't this a sweet spectacle... I thought you were more into the club type, Killian."

Emma held tighter to Killian's neck, silently wishing for this to be a nightmare and afraid to let him go to deal whatever this woman wanted from them. She couldn't believe this was happening. What the actual fuck? How come, in a place full of people where it was barely impossible to find anyone they had to run into _her_?

Was there a God out there? If there was, well, thank you for that, Sir. A+ job.

She hated how his whole demeanor changed, the crease between his brows and the stiffening of his shoulders as he pulled away from her with a sigh, facing the woman who had haunted him for months.

Milah.

"Can we please not do this?," he finally acknowledged, voice full of fatigue. Emma already hated her for making him sound so broken, so tired.

The raven-haired woman put on an innocent face, holding up her hands in front of her in mock surrender. "Do what?"

"We haven't seen each other - or exchanged a word for that matter - in months. Why would you want to change that now?," he spat.

"I just wanted to congratulate you. You seem to be... truly happy." The venom in her voice was palpable, and Emma felt herself stiffen at her words, actually yearning to put herself in front of him so he wouldn't have to contend with such harshness.

Or just plain punch her.

"I am," he replied, not taking her eyes off Milah, not letting her get the upper hand. Emma noticed how the woman's eyes fixed from his to hers, examining her from head to toe, and she tried to reconcile the image she had conjured of her when they had met in that bathroom in Wonderland with the woman now standing right before of her, so obviously judging her.

"It's nice to see you out and about again. I didn't hear from you these past months - except from those trashy articles. Paps can be such vultures, right? Looking for rotting meat to prey on," she commented offhandedly, as if the reality of the paparazzi who had nearly ruined her ex's musical career had been nothing more than a practical joke.

Letting the anger coursing through her take over, Emma squared her shoulders and cocked an eyebrow at her. "Yet you appear to have read them all - or followed whatever he's been doing, huh? Curious."

Milah's lips twitched. "It's difficult not to find out when it's been flaunted everywhere."

"Is it? I didn't even know who he was before we met." She really hadn't.

Nearly baring her teeth at her, she curled her lip as she answered, "that sounds like a lovely tale, then."

"More like fate, right?," Emma taunted, enunciating each word clearly, relishing in the flash of anger in the blue-eyed stare of the other woman, who appeared at a loss of words and finally sneered at her.

"Indeed."

Killian appeared to think this was the moment to step in after he had been so rudely left out of the women-in-his-love-life stand down. Putting himself in front of Emma and grabbing her hand in his, he spoke in her ex's direction once more. "As fun as this has been, we'd better cut it short. I'm sure your family is waiting, Milah. You go to them, I stay with mine."

That seemed to anger her even more, as she put her hands on her hips and stared down at him cruelly, words nearly spat with such disdain in his direction. "What would _you_ know about family?"

Emma felt herself snap, memories of his expression as he had told her about his youth in his hometown, how he had lost his parents, or about his mother teaching him about music by singing The Sound of Music to him rushing through her head - along with more recent ones; of him sitting with Grace on his lap, playing with Henry and Nana, fixing them meals without even asking if they wanted anything.

_Oh, no she hadn't._

"More than you think you know," she growled back at her, her eyes blazing as she dragged him with her on her way back to the spot where they were supposed to meet their friends. "Now, if you'll excuse us, we're trying to actually enjoy my boyfriend's birthday." Not bothering to wait for anything Milah would have to say, she kept on tugging on Killian's hand, not letting him go, as he was kind of dazed after the whole conversation. A long trek until they reached their destination, they sat on their previous spot - or where they believed it had been more or less - and she let her fingers trail over his arm, urging him to look up at her. "I really hope she wasn't like that when you two were together," she grumbled under her breath, not really sure how to broach the subject.

She really needed answers.

He let out a staggering breath, his hand shooting up to tug at the hair on the nape of his neck. "She was not. About that... I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to deal with any of this, I don't know why she'd feel the need to act like a bitch towards you."

She let out an amused chortle. "We are women. That's what we do. Being bitches to other bitches." Come on, that was like a trait every XX specimen had. He didn't seem to find her comment so funny, as he furrowed his brow at her.

"I'm serious. This is _my_ mess, if she wanted to attack someone it should be me, not you."

Emma pondered over his words and, letting out a tired sigh, sat closer to him, her side pressing to his. She bumped her shoulder with his, her hand leaping out to take his. "Hey, you had my back. I got yours. We are a team, right?" She let her face lean against his shoulder, waiting until he turned his, and she maneuvered hers so their noses rubbed together. She nearly beamed at him when she noticed the little smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"A team... like Batman and Robin?"

Really, the guy didn't even try and yet he managed to be cute no matter what.

"If those two got dirty after their adventures were done, then sure, we are Batman and Robin," she conceded with a shrug. They stayed like that for a while, noses touching and breathing in synch, the concert goers still coming and going in plain peak of their nights ready to party their last shred of energy at the clubbing tents. Letting her eyes fall closed, she finally mustered the courage to talk again.

"So. She was married."

The fact that he didn't even stiffen at the declaration made her feel better - it meant he was willing to talk about it, right? "She was."

"You two had an affair," she guessed.

"We did."

_Ouch_.

"And she decided to stay with him." She was getting really good at this Sherlock thing, if she said so herself. Though after that family comment he had so carelessly thrown at her earlier, Emma had had her suspicions, her inner puzzle-solving self senses tingling and waving a flaming banner at her reading _'THIS!'_.

His voice turned bitter then. "Even if she didn't love him. Still doesn't."

Emma furrowed her brow in confusion. If she didn't love her husband, why...? "Then why didn't she leave him?"

"Because they have a child."

"Oh. _Oh_."

Well, that was fucked up.

He clucked his tongue, looking at her from the corner of his eye as his fingers pulled out tiny specks of the grass that covered the deserted ground. "Yeah."

Emma felt herself starting to rant as she tried to come with an plausible explanation for Milah's choice - and boy, did she get carried away when she ranted. "But - that's no excuse. I mean, I get where she's coming from - I'd do anything to protect Henry and his happiness is always a first for me, but if they don't love each other, why would she stay with him? They could have always gotten a divorce and, you know, she could have been with you?"

He teared his eyes away from her, biting his bottom lip, deep in thought. "See, that's what I believed too. But considering I was her dirty little secret for a whole year and her husband is a huge magnate in the business, I guess she didn't want to fuck up her perfect life? I gave her the choice. She could have left him, come with me, her child included if she wanted - though she never even made the attempt to introduce me to him, of course, as if I'd somehow taint the boy - and she led me on for months, asking for time. In the end, she chose not to. I believe she thought she could have it all: her position, her life, her power, her family - and me. But I was not about to be a second option, a dog she could come to whenever she felt like it." His knuckles had turned white inside curling fists, eyes tightly shut. "The hiding, the secrecy and the excitement were fun for a while, but I couldn't stand it. Thinking that she was with him, it nearly drove me mad at times. I just - I couldn't."

She let herself drink him in before her, how his left hand rubbed the tattoo on his forearm almost unconsciously, and she feared for a moment he'd nearly peel it off, he was being so rough. She took his hand away. "Hey. Hey." Emma clasped her hands on his face, turning it to hers so he'd meet her eyes. "It's okay."

She could hear him gulping air in between ragged breaths. "Is it? Are you sure you can handle such a mess?"

The sudden grief and misery in his voice threatening to break her, she choked back her tears and traced her fingers over his features softly. "I understand what it's like not to be chosen. Not to be wanted. More than you can imagine. So yeah, I'm not about to run for the hills. I'm not that kind of girl."

He studied her with hooded eyes, and Emma could nearly believe he was looking right through her, reading her very soul. "I thought I knew your type. That I had been with girls like you."

"No girl is exactly like me," she promised him with a small grin.

Shaking his head and letting a smile of his own steal his features, he inched closer towards her, stealing a soft kiss from her, whispering against her lips, "and for that, I'm grateful."

And the pain she hadn't even known she was feeling began to ebb at the sight of his smile.

Pulling away with a sigh, she clapped her hands together, trying to get them both rid of the feeling of sudden misery and dread they had faced when they had been spending such a special day - just as she had promised herself every birthday should be. She wasn't about to let Milah take that away from Killian. "Now - how about we enjoy the rest of this before your present?"

He raised his eyebrows, surprised. "_Another_ present? What is it?"

Carefully hiding her smirk, she got up and cocked one hip to her side, making a motion with her finger for him to follow her up. "Oh, I don't know - guess you'll find out later tonight..."

"What are you... oh. _Oh_."

Right, sailor. That was more like it.

Just as he came to her side, she grabbed him and let her lips graze his ear, relishing in the shiver that coursed through him, glad that she wasn't the only one affected by the other. "Just a hint: bra and underwear? They match."

* * *

_**Hi y'all!**_

_**So, to help you ease that blow last night - shhh, it's alright, it's alright babies! - I decided to make this disgustingly fluffy because I guessed we needed it.**_

_**Though in fact it had been planned from the start like this but, oh well. Even Granny, I missed her so bad!**_

_**Some things to point out: even if I have never been to Coachella *pumps fist in the air in agony*, I have attended the second biggest music festival in Europe, so I kinda could figure out how it works apart from doing a bit of research about it. Also, some of you may have guessed that two of my favorite bands were featured in here... Maroon 5 being the hunk Emma and the girls gushed about, and Florence+The Machine the one she 'flies' to. In fact, "Cosmic Love" in Glastonbury (2010) is the video that gave me inspiration for that scene in particular. Because fucking Flo. Ugh. So perfect. Being this an AU, I let my fangirl fly away and choose whatever I wanted in my precious little scenario for my two beautiful idiots, and I wanted them watching my favorite bands.**_

_**thanks to Cee for her rather insightful input, such as "fuuuuuuuuuck!" "OMFG NINI YOU DID NOT" or "I don't like you anymore". I love you, beta love**_

_**Anyway, hope you all liked it :) See ya!**_

_**PS: Cosmic Love. Cosmic Love made this happen. Bless Flo, special creature of the forrest for giving us such a marvel.**_


	23. Chapter 23: Free Falling

**_Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or Once Upon A Time - the trolls Edward Kitsis and Adam Horowitz do. If I did, I'd make them canon faster than lighting._**

* * *

Emma waltzed into the kitchen to find Henry sitting on a stool and bended over a stack of photos and papers cluttering the counter, so focused in his work that he didn't even hear her coming in. She approached him quietly, patting Nana on the head when she passed by her and taking a peek over his shoulder to spy whatever it was he was up to. "What are you doing?"

He jumped, startled, and shot her a surprised look. He then stacked together some of the pictures, putting them away inside a couple of worn-off envelopes. "Putting this ready for Grandma - she asked me to fix it so she could take it back with her to San Francisco."

Oh, right. Ruth was coming to Los Angeles the following week - and she was completely and utterly obsessed with photograph albums. Since she had known her - even before she had been adopted, - Emma had found this hobby of hers slightly curious. She hadn't been used to have her pictures taken, since _ever_ - which was sad, knowing how parents usually had their children's growing up documented in every possible way, yet she hadn't had the opportunity to, resigning herself to the dozen of pictures from middle school and of some Halloween party she had assisted when she was older and some kid had invited her - probably out of pity for the 'weird blonde orphan girl'.

It was oddly funny, now that she considered it; how now her life revolved around people wishing to freeze her image doing the most mundane things, yet moments that may have meant way more to her - or _should,_ at least for a girl growing up, - had been forgotten in the way.

Not for Ruth, though. No: as soon as Emma had met David, she had made her a key piece in their lives, and that included those photographs of her whenever she joined them at lunch, working together for classes, or whatever excuse she felt like telling that day to take out her camera and snap a couple of pics. Her favorite had always been _'I always wanted a daughter as pretty as you to model for me - come on Emma, don't make me beg!'. _

And Emma, secretly, had always wanted a mother who would praise her and ask her to strike the silliest pose, to wrinkle her nose and whine when asked to be immortalized by her parents' cameras.

So she caved - with a 'humph' and a pout, but caved in the end.

"Oh. Great job, kid," she commended him, patting his shoulder. He smiled at her, proudly inspecting his work, passing the pages of the album leisurely.

"Thank you. I'm pretty proud of it."

She raised her eyebrows, trying really hard not to wince as some of the pictures brought memories back to her mind. Oh, the 90s. Those outfits. Gosh. "You should. You actually picked 80% of the pictures I don't _completely_ hate."

"You hate all of your pictures."

"Exactly." Sometimes she was amazed at how well her son knew her.

He sent her an exasperated look, rolling his eyes. "You are silly. You look pretty in all of them."

Sometimes she wished people would learn how to split the different stages in life when it came to photographs: babies and childhood cute pictures - because there are no ugly babies or kids; teenage and young years - which should be probably burned, _ALL_ of them except maybe a couple which could be saved after an intense selection; and adult life - which in her case meant 90% of them were from paparazzis and photo shoots, meaning they were probably touched up digitally. "Henry, make up and photoshop _don't_ count. That's why I am even more horrified of these - my teenager self wasn't prom queen material either. Which I don't mind at all, but let's say I'd rather not cringe every time I stumble upon those photos."

He picked up one of her, when she was around 17, propped up against her first car - a yellow VW that Ruth had helped her acquire when she got her first job helping out in the sheriff station in their little town, right before they moved to San Francisco. She had adored that car. "But look at you with your ponytail and your glasses!"

She flinched. Really. What was it about the glasses and ponytail that made her look so... naive? Ugh, it was actually painful to look at these.

"Leave me alone. We'll see when you're older and I make fun of you and your younger self pictures."

Henry just smirked up at her, a glint in his eye as he cocked his head to the side. "I won't be able to complain. Have you seen this face?"

Emma froze looking at him, completely speechless. Why was he sounding so much like...? Oh. God. "You are spending too much time with Killian for your own good."

"But he's fun," he countered back, smiling.

"Is he?"

"You know he is, if you didn't think so you wouldn't be dating him! I can't wait to see what Grandma thinks of him."

...what?

"...wait. What?"

He raised his head back up at her again, now genuinely curious at her unease. She guessed she hadn't been so careful to cover that up. Or she wasn't that much of an actress at home. Or she was just plainly freaked out. "She didn't tell you? She said she wanted you to introduce him to her when she came over."

"Why?"

"...because he's your boyfriend?"

Okay, the kid had a point.

Emma, please stop freaking out. It's your mother. It's Killian. Of course she'd like to meet him, right? It made perfect sense. Why wouldn't she want to find out more about the supposed famous playboy boyfriend she was supposed to be seen?

_Who you are actually seeing_ - a part of her brain reminded her sneakily.

"I... I guess. I haven't even told him she'd be visiting. I didn't even know she wanted to meet him!"

Henry was starting to look at her weird. Which she didn't find weird at all. Because she was acting weird. Everything was weird in this conversation. "Why wouldn't she? He's _your boyfriend_. She wants to see for herself how you're doing. You haven't had a boyfriend, like, ever."

She inhaled sharply. Every time Henry mentioned something along the lines of her past lovers, or possible suitors or whatever, they ended up in this bizarre impasse, a heavy charged moment in the air due to the great, big taboo.

His father.

"Henry...," she started, shuffling on her feet, not really sure she was emotionally ready to have this conversation. She was saved, though, as he raised his hand and put it in front of him, stopping her from continuing.

"I know it makes you uncomfortable to talk about this. It's okay. I know it brings back bad memories. I just wanted to let you know that she wants to meet Killian - and she should. Because you two are happy, and that'd make _her_ happy." A frown suddenly marred his forehead, and he studied her carefully, his voice dropping as he asked cautiously, "aren't you?"

Emma's heart clenched. Here, her kid was actually worried that she was happy. Not for him, for her mother, but for _her_. With Killian. "Yeah. I guess we are."

He nodded, reassured, and went back to put together the album for Ruth, dismissing her. "Then, go call him."

Emma stopped, dumbfounded. Was her son really spouting orders at her? When had this happened? "Stop bossing me around. You're ten!"

"If it weren't for me, you wouldn't even know! Now go," he laughed at her over his shoulder, not even bothering to send her a glance, focused on his prepping again. She shook her head, amused, and went to her room to pick up her phone, nervously tugging on the hem of her shirt as she looked for Killian's number and pressed the green button. She fell back on the duvet, closing her eyes as the beep of the line went over and over until it was cut off abruptly by a tilting, teasing voice.

A voice that had captivated half the planet. A voice that she had come to identify with laughter, banter, passion and comfort.

"Hey sweetcheeks. What's up?"

She rolled her eyes at the new nickname. Really, no wonder he was the songwriter - he had too much material in that head of his. "Hi. Um, I got something a bit weird to ask you."

He didn't miss a beat. "Yes, I'm into the kink if you want to try."

She breathed out a laugh. Typical Jones Behavior in the house.

"That's not what I was going to say, but it's always good to know I'll be using those manacles," she countered back, letting her words hang in the air and counting off in her head for his answer.

"Stop it or I'll show up at your door in 5."

_Ha_.

She shook her head, knowing that he would guess she was doing just that if he were there with her. "Sure you will. No, actually, it's - ugh. My mother is in town visiting and she wanted you to come to have dinner with us so she could meet you."

There was a pause, and her fingers clenched around the phone forcefully, not really knowing what she should expect after this. Oh God. What if he thought this was, like, putting a new label to their somewhat new relationship? Sure, she knew she had feelings for him - and who knew what he felt for her, they hadn't said or written or expressed verbally what they meant for each other, and here she was, asking him to meet her mother - but it wasn't like she had had any say in the matter, had she? Her mother and the whole planet believed they were dating, so it was not like...

Her mind still spinning, she barely missed his surprised "...what?"

And her inner rant became actual-aloud rant. "I know, it feels really teenager-ish right? But she seems pretty excited about the whole thing and I think she is because she sees I am happy and all - or maybe she wants to put you on the spot like trying to be all stern-mother-looking-trying-to-scare-her-daughter' s-date-away or whatever, - or to actually check that you won't turn out to be another..." she froze, words stuck in her tongue as she realized what she had been about to say.

No. She was _so_ not talking about that.

"Emma?"

She closed her eyes, rubbing them furiously with her free hand to pry the images in her mind away. It usually didn't work, but having him talking to her certainly did help. "Never mind. Please?," she added, pleading with him.

He didn't answer for a moment, until his voice came back up, slightly amused. "Are you puppy-eyeing the phone?"

"Maybe?"

There was a loud sigh, yet she knew he was just messing with her, and she couldn't help but smile broadly to herself. "How can I deny puppy-eyed phone, really."

She chuckled at that, and went on to give him the details. "It'll be Wednesday evening, you can come over earlier. And be my little helper again if you want to."

"I want to help you do other things, love." Oh, there he was.

Emma bit her bottom lip, droppin her voice, coming out in barely a whisper, her fingers clenching around the duvet. "It's been _a day_."

"I don't care."

"I bet your impatience will kill you one day," she taunted him - though she had to admit that that impatience of his was quite promising. And encouraging. And exhilarating. And arousing. And did wonderful things to her ego.

"I see your impatience and raise your screaming my name in my ear."

She shivered, her eyelids fluttering against her wish and toes nearly curling. Gosh, what was this guy doing to her? Apart from turning her into a hormonal teenage girl, just like the one she had been mocking in those pictures Henry had just been showing her? "Bye Jones."

"Bye Swan."

* * *

After the doorbell rang, she nodded to Henry so he'd go open it while she went on getting everything ready in the kitchen. "Killian!"

"Hey Henry! Hi Nana! I missed you girl," she heard him greet them as they came in, Nana following behind them and barking excitedly at the newcomer - just as she always did. She was that happy whenever they had people over, and especially if it was Killian, whom she seemed to feel especially loving towards.

No surprise there, considering it had been his idea to adopt her in the first place.

"We can go walk her later if you want to," Killian proposed him as he entered the kitchen, ruffling his hair affectionately. Henry was more than happy to oblige, nodding in excitement and plopping onto one of the stools by the table where they'd eat, everything already set out for the whole clan.

Killian approached the counter where she kept checking up on the food still cooking and the sauce she was in the middle of preparing, and flashed her a grin. "Hey, gorgeous."

"Hey yourself."

He came to stand beside her. "Kiss?"

"Kiss," she answered, leaning in so he could peck her lightly. She wasn't sure how they had started this silly routine of asking for permission for these little, stolen kisses - just because: to say hi, to ask for permission, to ask for forgiveness, to ask him to pass the salt, to ask for directions - they had joked around with it too much to take it seriously, but they kept playing at it. And she had to admit she found it cute. And endearing. And had she said cute?

"So. What are you two doing?" he asked as he propped himself on the counter, facing Henry on the table. Her son shrugged, his face leaning on his arms, now crossed over the wooden surface.

"Just getting things ready before Grandma gets here with David and Mary Margaret."

Killian cocked an eyebrow at that. "Oh, it's going to be the whole Swan clan here then?"

"It's Nolan, actually," Emma corrected him. Huh. She guessed she hadn't mentioned she had never taken their adoptive family's surname. It wasn't such a big deal, really - but she supposed it should have come up sooner or later. So there it was.

He nodded gravely, sending her a cautious look from the corner of his eyes - probably wondering if it had triggered some kind of bad memory about her orphanage days or something. "My mistake. Apologies." He leaned towards her again, a small smile gracing his lips. "Kiss?"

See?

"Kiss," she conceded with a shrug, closing the gap between them and smiling against his lips. He was such a dork.

She pulled away and shot a look at the clock on the wall behind her. Great, everybody was supposed to be here soon. She asked over her shoulder as she added some oil to a pan, "Henry, could you please bring down the picture album Grandma asked for so we don't forget giving it to her?"

"Sure." She heard his light footsteps leaving the room - and, right on cue, strong arms and male, hard muscle being pressed against her. She attempted to ignore the sudden flush that came over her, the tingling that seemed to accompany every time they touched, and went on with her chores, repeating in her head over and over again the instructions she was supposed to follow in order not to mess the recipe.

It was proving to be quite challenging.

"Could you please stop manhandling me," she muttered between clenched teeth, the urge to jump whenever his hands tickled her nearly driving her mad.

She could almost hear his smirk against her neck, his quiet laugh moving blonde strands of hair. "No can do babydolls."

"You're incorrigible."

"And that's something we didn't know, right?," he said as he let his fingers wander over her stomach, lips pressing along her neck and his tongue flicking out to tease her skin.

God, she was trembling like a leaf. "Killian..."

"Emma...," he mimicked her, his hands ghosting up her sides. They froze in place, though, when the doorbell rang once more and Nana's barking resumed right where she had left it when Killian came in. They heard Henry's excited "they're here!" as he bounced down the stairs, and she almost let out a laugh at Killian's murmured "fuck" against her neck.

She whirled her head, sending him a mix between a reproaching look and puppy eyes. "Sh! Just... behave, okay?"

Huh. Why wasn't that impish smile of his not easing her nerves - at all? "Haven't you heard? Everybody loves me."

She put her hands on her hips in her best no-funny-business-mister-or-we-will-have-trouble stance and, putting away the pan from the fire, she turned around to welcome her family. She could hear David and Mary Margaret greeting Henry - and of course, her mother's enthusiastic compliments about everything and anything, especially her grandson and their new dog.

As soon as she saw her, Emma ran to her arms, letting her embrace her with all her might, burying her face in her hair. "Mom!"

Ruth's voice came out a little bit strangled as she hugged her back fiercely, a hand coming up to caress her curls, as she had done countless times since she had come to live at the Nolan's. She felt just like a teenager all over again, when she had believed like she had no one to talk to apart from David and she had cried on her shoulder when everything turned out to be too much to handle. "Oh, Emma. I've missed you so much."

"Me too." She pulled away, and she braced herself for her mother's inspection - just like she always did. Setting her hands on her shoulders, she studied her from head to toe, and Emma wondered for the hundredth time if it was something that mothers had, that sixth sense to be able to tell whatever was with their children, everything about them making them inherently theirs too.

"You look skinnier. Have you been eating? Are you stressing out again? Don't you even dare to read those stupid articles and mean comments those assholes print, you hear me? You go and do your thing."

She chuckled, grabbing her hands in hers and smiling fondly at her. Of course she'd be worried about her diet. If she only knew she should be worrying about her chocolate addiction, this would end up quite differently. "Mom, I've never in my life neglected food because of some idiot saying something about the size of my ass."

"That's my girl," Ruth beamed, her hand coming up to cup her cheek as her eyes drank her in. A quiet laugh was heard then behind Emma, and she suddenly realized that she had completely forgotten about Killian being there, witnessing her reunion with her mother. Ruth pulled away from her and shot a glance over her daughter's shoulder, her interest definitely piqued by the man standing in front of her.

"Ah, the famous Killian Jones, I take it?"

Killian nodded once, walking up to them in a couple of long strides and offering her his hand. "In the flesh. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Nolan."

"Please, call me Ruth," she insisted, shaking it back. She stood back a bit, repeating that close-up check up she had just done to her, and Emma felt herself flush at the obvious study her mother was displaying in front of her family. Fuck, she hadn't even done this when she was living at home with her. "My, Emma, isn't he cute," she finally declared with a giggle in her direction. Oh God, this was embarrassing.

"Mom..."

Killian waved a hand, like it was no problem at all. Of course it wasn't, it was not him suffering from an overly enthusiastic mother. "It's okay, really. I'm used to it by now."

David scoffed beside her, promptly trying to hide it by coughing lightly, and Emma narrowed her eyes at him. Just what she needed, really - the two idiots fighting like children. Killian cocked an eyebrow in her brother's direction. "You okay there, mate?"

"Fine, just fine."

"You two, stop it," she threatened them, her finger pointing first at one and then at the other. Shaking her head, she made a motion with her hands to the door leading to the table where they'd have dinner. "Now, why don't you guys stay in the living room while I make sure everything is ready? I'll call when I'm done."

"I'll give you a hand," Mary Margaret offered, and Emma shot her a curious glance, though she suspected the reason behind her friend being all interested in being 'helpful' in the kitchen all of a sudden.

Third degree time.

Oh joy.

Just as they were all leaving to the other room, Emma tugged on Killian's hand, making him look at her. "Be good. You promised."

He rolled his eyes at her, sending a look full of contempt in her way. "I'm not a kid, you know. I can actually behave." Leaning in, he added near her ear in a whisper, "sometimes."

She pulled back, dropping her gaze to the ground and hearing him leave with a chuckle in his wake, and she brought her attention back to the kitchen. Right. Sauce. Recipe. Things to do. Yes. Not Killian. Not his lips. Not his scent. Nooooope.

"So..."

Oh, right, Mary Margaret was there. Huh. That would help. "So?"

"Ruby called the other day."

Red code, red code. "Of course she did," she nearly spat. God, could anyone just please mind their own business and stop gossipping about her life for _once_?

Her friend went on, not caring about - or plain ignoring - her obvious discontent with the direction the conversation was headed to. "Yep - apart from retelling the whole Coachella day - which I'm still so sad I couldn't go, ugh, I helped to plan the thing but stupid wedding preparations, I just can't get a rest - she told me something quite interesting..."

Emma really wanted to scoff now. And so she did. Because why the hell not. "And in Ruby code, 'quite interesting' can mean anything - from the cereal she ate that morning to finding out her neighbor is an axe murderer."

"Emma."

"Don't '_Emma_' me. You know I hate it."

Mary Margaret put her hands on the counter, fixing her with a frustrated look. "Then why don't you tell me already, if you know I'm going to ask you either way?"

"Because it's easier." Really, it wasn't that hard to understand, was it?

"So are you or are you not actually dating Killian?"

Oh look, now they were getting somewhere. Fantastic. She opted to act coy. "I thought we had signed a deal about it? I distinctly remember I saw your name in there too..."

Her friend let out a huff, shaking her head at her. "Okay, you're set on being impossible. Fine."

Emma clenched her fists, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. Crap, she was being a child wasn't she? It wasn't fair to let her best friend in the dark - well, as much of in the dark as she could be after Ruby surely had filled her in, but hell, she'd be pissed if her friend didn't want to share something so important as this was with her too. She let out a long sigh, propping herself against one of the stools and tugging at the hem of her sleeve, not meeting her eyes. "Look... Ugh. Fine. We're together, like, for real. We don't know at what point we are - we slept together, and we're... working things along the way, I guess?"

Mary Margaret gasped. "O-kay. Deep breaths." Emma felt the urge to roll her eyes at her friend - really, was it necessary to act so dramatic? Wasn't this what she had expected to hear? "Look - I had already seen something, it was _so_ obvious, but I wasn't sure - but this is quite a big deal, especially when it comes to you and relationships." She stopped for a moment, her eyes widening in horror. "God, David is going to freak out, he has been asking non stop about you two and I bet he suspects something too but..."

Wait. The fuck. Up. Now should she fear her brother's reaction to her relationship with Killian?

_HA_.

She couldn't help the sudden anger in her tone as she declared vehemently, "why would he freak out? Doesn't he actually want me to be happy? Is it so bad that I finally find a fucking happy ending outside of my job and my family?"

Mary Margaret froze, lips parted in shock as she stared at her like she was some kind of strange creature she had just stumbled upon in her kitchen. "Oh God. It's worse than I feared."

"What is?"

"You're falling for him."

"What? That's not..."

"I'm gonna _Emma_ you," she threatened her.

"But..."

She waved a hand at her, shutting her up. "Emma, I'm gonna _Emma_ you if you keep insisting on denying it - not because you've just implied that Killian Jones could be your happy ending. I am more than okay with it. And please never doubt that we want what's best for you. About David - he'll come around. He's just worried. As always. Especially after last time."

This was the second time in a week that this topic came up, and she was sure as hell she wasn't up to debate it. At all. She pursed her lips in thought, finally acknowledging, "I know."

She saw how Mary Margaret approached her, sitting in the stool next to hers and lacing her arm through hers. "For what's worth, I'll help to smooth things over when you tell him. Though the obvious flirting will probably give it away."

Oops. Was it that obvious...?

...yeah she guessed it was. Who was she kidding. He coud barely keep his hands to himself.

Not that she was any better, now that they were at it.

"Sorry," she lamely replied, not really sure what she was even apologizing for. Right before she asked him what David had hinted about her and her relationship with Killian, the object in question strutted in, a question in his face as he eyed them sitting there.

"Ladies? Before your fiancé and brother throws something at me, is there any cold drink for him to relax? A beer? Wine? Or, you know, a tranquilizer?"

Emma's head dropped on Mary Margaret's shoulder tiredly. "Why am I not surprised about this?"

"I haven't said anything, I swear," he promised as he came up to them, trying to hide a smile.

"Anything at all?"

His smile turned into a full on smirk, and he stroked the back of his neck, feigning innocence. "...I may have slipped something about a particular scar of yours which is not _quite_ visible..."

"Oh my God..." she lamented, burying her nose harder against her friend as she listened to her laugh heartily at him. Mary Margaret patted her leg warmly.

"He's too fun not to keep him around."

"Why thank you future Mrs. Nolan, I'm glad at least I got _your_ approval."

She got up from the stool, poking him in the chest as she went to fetch the wine and passing it to him so he'd carry it to the table. "Stop trying to charm my in-laws."

"I'm not even trying, this is all me," he replied.

She ignored him, grabbing the rest of the things left to add to the table and making her way to the living room. "Come on, let's go eat."

* * *

"So. Killian. I've read about you and the band and how you met my daughter, but was it true?," Ruth inquired as she sipped from her glass. The dinner was going surprisingly well, all things considered - and she couldn't help but feel that she had had it coming, as she had never in her life had this kind of parents-meet-my-boyfriend experience.

Oh God, had Ruth just said _how you met my daughter_? She needed more wine.

"You mean her throwing champagne at my face? Yeah, it was. Fascinating how all those articles seem to get half truths in between the rest," he commented cheerfully, and Emma had to give it to him - he was a pretty good actor, not sounding too bitter about it taking into account how the press had been treating him for the last year.

Attempting to ease the sudden tension she knew he was feeling, she added her input to the story. "He spilled his champagne on me first."

"It was an accident."

"Sure."

Henry had followed the whole argument like in a tennis match, head bobbing from one side to the other, until he piped in, "it's funny because normally the princes and princesses in my book meet in weird situations, but your story is actually better."

Bless him and his completely-out-of-the-blue ideas.

David coughed - probably trying to mask a small laugh - and sent him a look. "Yeah, well, we are not all princes in reality, Henry."

"Don't be too hard on yourself, mate - you're rather charming," Killian replied mockingly. Before her brother countered back, though, she shot him an amused smirk.

"You should have seen the girls in high school when we met - they all threw themselves at him! Remember Kathryn?" Really, that one had been such a leech, David had all but begged Emma to pose as her girlfriend just to scare her so she'd leave him alone.

Obviously not happy with the sudden high school memento, he growled at her, "shut up."

"Killian, did you go to high school here or in Ireland?," Ruth suddenly inquired, ignoring their banter and still intent in fishing information about her 'boyfriend'.

Should she stop air quoting that...?

...huh.

Killian didn't miss a beat, dabbing his mouth with his napkin. "Back at home, I moved here when I was 18."

"That must have been tough. Leaving all behind," she commented, a sudden reflexive tone in her voice, her eyes turning wondering as she studied him closely.

"Nothing in life comes easy, madam."

Henry jumped in, his inner groupie probably inciting him to join the conversation. "Have you listened to them, Grandma? They're awesome. And you know what? Mom is going to be in their next video!"

Her mother's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and she turned to stare at her. "Is she really?"

Emma shrugged nonchalantly. "I lost a bet."

"That is so you, I don't even want to know," she declared with a laugh. Of course, she had been on the end of too many rows and rants against her not to guess what had gone down there. Ruth turned then to Killian. "You baited her, didn't you?"

He smirked, pleased with himself. "I did."

"Going for the pride. Nice."

"Thank you."

Was this really happening? Really? She all but let out a growl. "Fantastic. Now you're ganging up with my mother."

He lifted his arms in front of him innocently. "I'm just retelling what happened. And come on, you'll be fantastic. Not everybody can boast about starring in one of our videos."

"Graham can," she reminded him with a shrug.

"Sure. Humbert was good. It was really fun to work with him."

"Oh! I remember that video! You and the boy my Emma worked with, right? And a brunette the both of you pursue?"

How the fuck did _her mother_ know about their video when she hadn't even known about the band in the first place? What was wrong with her?

This was too much information to process in such a short time.

Killian seemed way too pleased about this. "That's the one."

"But he won her in the end," Ruth stated with a frown. That was true - she remembered now when Henry had made her watch the video, how the girl had been with Graham but had had an affair with Killian and...

Oh.

He made a face, shrugging as if it didn't bother him at all. "What can I say - Humbert is quite pretty." Ruth laughed at that, her eyes wrinkling at the corners.

"What is it with you Irish boys, all hot and bothered around my girl."

_MOM PLEASE. _

She wasn't sure she could take such embarrassing comments anymore, so she decided to do what she best did: run. "I'm going to bring the dessert."

"I'll help you," Killian offered, getting up and following her to the kitchen. They left the dirty dishes in the sink, and she started fetching the things for dessert.

"Your mom is nice," he said.

"I know. I had missed her."

He came behind her - what was it with him sneaking up on her whenever she was doing anything in the kitchen - and his hand caressed her side. "And I had missed _you_."

She turned to face him, tipping her forehead with his and sighing heavily. "I'm sorry if she's pushing a bit. She hasn't seen me around much men - that she knows of, of course."

He shrugged, his hand coming up to play with a strand of her hair. "I don't mind. I like that she cares about you."

"And I'm sorry if it was awkward talking about the video," she added quietly, spying him underneath her lashes. She saw him flinch, his face turning into a grimace.

"Not really subtle, was it?"

"Hey, at least it got you some record or whatever, right?."

A frown touched his lips and something dark flashed in his eyes. "Sure. At the cost of my pain and misery. I'm okay with that deal."

Her smile faded slowly, and her teeth tugged at her lip once more. "I'm sorry. Kiss?"

His expression softened, and he leaned in ever so slightly, lips ghosting over hers. "Kiss."

"Everything alright in here?"

Of course David had to choose that moment to show up. She pulled back, barely hearing Killian's muttered "your family has this annoying habit of ruining my fun," and she resumed her task of piling dishes and cutlery for dessert along with the ice cream and fruit.

"Everything's fine and dandy, big bro," she called over her shoulder, ignoring the knowing look he must have been shooting at her. Protective bro mode: activated.

"Henry's asking about the chocolate - and showing mom the album. I'm sure Jones would love to see some of those pictures."

Were they fucking kidding her?

"Could you please NOT?" she begged, hands full of spoons and knives, and Killian ran to help her carry the rest, his face lightning up like a Christmas tree at the mention of the pictures. He started asking her about them as they came back, and she nearly ended up throwing him whatever she was carrying just so he'd shut up - yet it was impossible, as when they sat down, Henry already had them out, showing them to Ruth proudly and sharing every single detail he was aware of each one of them. Killian took one in his hand and let out a laugh, and she had to fight the urge to run back to her room and close the door, never opening it again.

Not drama queen. At all.

"Look at her! I bet she was the fairest of them all," Killian said, sending her an appraising look and blowing her a kiss. She was about to threaten him again but her phone started beeping in her pocket,and she excused herself to take it, escaping the room for the moment - glad that she had, not really looking forward the laughing at her expense.

Huh. Unknown number.

"Hello?"

"Miss Swan?," a heavily accented voice answered - yet somewhat familiar...?

"Yeah, it's me,"

"Hi, it's Mulan, we met the other day with Regina?"

Oh my God. Emma's hand flew to her chest, trying to steady the beating of her heart, and unconsciously grasped her pendant in her hand.

"Of course! Hi."

"Hi. Um, I'm sure you're wondering what I'm doing personally calling you right now?," Mulan asked in a cheerful tone.

She really wasn't sure what she was supposed to say at this point. She let out a nervous laugh. "Yeah, that'd be pretty much it."

"Just wanted to ask what you're doing next August?"

For a completely messed up moment all Emma saw in that moment was August, as in August the drummer, August Killian's bandmate. Funny name, August.

She shook her head and brought her attention back to the director's words. "...Nothing much. Why?"

"Because, if you want to, we'll be filming over Europe for three or four weeks. You in?"

She nearly fainted in the spot. She was offering her the role. She was freaking offering her a job, right there, right then!

Attempting to sound professional and not like the blubbering, stuttering mess she was at the moment, she finally answered adamantly, "I - I - of course. Of course, I'd love to."

Mulan sounded relieved and excited on the other line, and Emma couldn't help but feel like they would make a great team. She had really liked her when they had met in that reunion with Regina, and she was beyond excited about the project - and thinking about it now, knowing that she was a part of it... Wow. "Perfect. I'm so glad you're on board, and I truly trust you'll be amazing. I couldn't think of someone else better for the role."

"That's stupidly flattering, to be honest. Thank you so much, I'll try not to let you down."

"I'll talk to you soon, Emma. Bye!"

Emma hang up, phone frozen in her hand, staring up at nothing, a smile permanently fixed on her lips for all that she knew. She finally found the will to move, urging her legs to carry her back to the living room, and her family stared at her, their expressions going from worried to bemused.

"Emma? What is it?," David asked, leaving his seat and walking towards her hurriedly. She looked at him, her eyes going from his to every other pair in the room, finally seeking out Killian's.

"They want me," she revealed at last, the words escaping her lips without her barely noticing.

"What?"

"She offered me the role. She actually offered it to _me_," she explained at last, her grin broadening so much it nearly split her face, a hysterical laugh bubbling from her lips as her hands came up to cup her face in wonder. Finally getting the gist of what had happened, David wrapped his arms around her, kissing the side of her head, and she nearly sobbed in relief and wonder. The sound of various chairs scraping the floor followed, and she could hear Henry, Mary Margaret and her mother all congratulating her and cheering. Henry bounced on his feet, throwing his arms around her as he repeated over and over how he had known she would pick her; Nana barked, as always adding her part to the excitement in the party, and more hugs were exchanged than she could ever remember since she had moved into that house.

At last, she found herself in front of Killian, who flashed her a grin. "And here comes the 'I told you so'."

"Shut up," she replied, letting her head rest against his chest for a moment, giving herself a moment to breath, coming to terms with everything - with the fact that she had just been offered a huge role in a huge movie with a huge director and she was a huge, huge mess.

"Do you get to carry a sword in this one?"

She choked back a laugh. "No. A gun I think."

He grunted, shaking his head in annoyance. "Could they please stop teaching you ways to threaten my life?"

"I hope not. Keeps you on your toes," she declared, standing on the tip of her toes and kissing him, not asking for permission this time.

* * *

They walked hand in hand, Henry running ahead of them with Nana after Killian had suggested they had a race - just to prove who was faster of the two of them. She studied him from the corner of her eyes, noticing the fond expression he always wore around her son or whenever he was mentioned and a sudden memory came to mind - a conversation they had shared in that small room in the studio, just when he had found out about Henry. "So... I guess now I understand all about that weird fear of yours of interacting with any kind of children, huh?"

His expression closed off for a moment, and then he sighed, his head dropping in slight defeat. "Yeah... I guess I wasn't even aware of it. Though all of them did."

"I really didn't get it when I found out. I mean, maybe you did, but you were amazing with Henry from the start. It didn't make any sense," she tried to explain, her head cocking to the side as she recalled how he had immediately bonded with her son - giving him the guitar, offering to stay with him when she had been unable to, even going as far as to help him out whenever he wanted and giving him Nana.

He clenched his jaw, his mouth dipping down in a sudden frown. "I suppose I just - I believed I wasn't good for them? This whole mess made me think that, because Milah didn't trust me enough with her child, that I wasn't fit to even take care of one, that I couldn't be trusted with one or be around them."

Emma stopped on her tracks, halting him with her, and sought his eyes with hers. "You know, I think Henry would be elated to be trusted with you. He adores you."

He gave her a sheepish grin. "And I really like spending time with him."

Her face broke into a wide smile then. "Guess you can forget that stupid fear of yours then, huh?"

He stared back at her, an unreadable expression stealing his face, and she was so caught up in the emotions flashing in his eyes that she nearly missed the continued beep coming from her purse. She tore her gaze from his, and set out to try to find her phone in the depths of the purse, her whole arm nearly disappearing in her search. Killian sent her an amused smile, a chuckle escaping his lips.

"You have so much crap in that bag, I'm amazed you can find anything."

"Yet you men always end up asking us to put whatever you want in there," she barked, annoyed as she finally managed to snatch it from one of the countless pockets inside of the bag. She froze when she realized what she had said, her lip nearly trembling as she looked up at him. "I walked right into that one, didn't I?"

"Is that a blush?"

"Leave me alone," she huffed, walking away from him and checking out the text Ruby had sent her. She hadn't even opened it when his arm snaked around her, bringing her stumbling upon him in the least graceful movement she could had ever performed in her life.

Graceful as a Swan, dare she say.

"I would but apparently I can't," he told her with a smile, hugging her against his chest. He grabbed her hand and nearly dropped it in surprise as he saw that she was clutching something already inside it. "What's this?"

She blushed furiously, smoothing the drawing with careful sweeps of her fingers. "Henry made it for me for mother's day when he was 6. I carry it around with me all the time. I really don't know why."

Killian took it from her and studied it interestedly, and gave it back to her as he looked at her underneath his lashes. With a jerk of his chin, he added, "you do wear that pendant always, too."

Her hand came up to clutch the two rings hanging from the golden chain she always wore, as he had pointed out. "Yeah, David gave it to me for my birthday. Apparently I tend to get too attached to things that might trigger some kind of emotion."

Especially considering he had given it to her the first birthday they had shared as brother and sister, the two interlocked rings supposed to be her and him, as an unbreakable vow he had made her. No wonder she was so attached to it.

"What about that swan necklace of yours?"

Her eyes widened in surprise. What?

"...how do you know about that?"

He shrugged, his head cocking to the side - yet she could see he was way too interested in her answer. "The other day, when you were looking for something on your bedside table, you touched it and it looked like it had burned you."

She studied him carefully, her arms crossing her chest in a move she hadn't even aware she was making. "Why are you so observant?"

"Look who's talking," he quipped back, smirking. His eyes lingered on hers for a moment until he sighed, dropping his gaze to the ground. "You don't have to tell me."

Emma nipped her bottom lip. Should she...? He had shared so much with her, and here she was, actually denying him such a thing like the story behind a freaking necklace she should all but thrown to the garbage years ago. She squared her shoulders, lifted her chin and took a deep calming breath. "It's not a big deal. Someone from long ago gave it to me, I stopped wearing it when I realized I had to let it go or I'd never move on from him."

She tried to smooth her features to appear cool and collected, yet she knew he could read her and would probably call her out on her shit, but surprisingly, he didn't say anything. He just stared at her for a moment, his brows furrowing. "It's difficult, isn't it?"

She let her eyes fall closed for a second, memories she had long ago buried fighting to get free as she struggled with all her might not to - or she'd crumble down. "Yeah."

She felt her chin being lifted up, the warmth of his skin tingling against hers. "So, if I gave you something of mine you'd be bound to wear it forever because you're sentimental like that, right?," he commented offhandedly, his lips twitching as he tried to hide a smile.

"Of course I would," she admitted. She really would. She sent him a tired look, nearly letting out a groan as an idea came to mind. "And now you'll show up with some gaudy piece to make me feel bad if I don't actually wear it, right?"

"It's scary how well you know me."

She punched him lightly in the arm. "You're an open book to me now."

He draped an arm around her shoulder, bringing her closer to him, and he let out a laugh as they resumed their stroll. They heard Henry coming back in fast strides, his breathing ragged from his running, and he waved his arms frantically around him. "Mom! Killian! Look at Nana! She's made a friend!"

"Has she really?" Emma squinted her eyes, and finally spotted Nana, all frizzly hair and excited barks jumping and playing with a dalmatian over one patch of green in the street they had found themselves in.

Henry signaled towards the two dogs in obvious glee. "Yeah! His name is Pongo!"

Pongo.

Really.

"Are you fucking serious," she muttered under her breath so only Killian would hear, his chuckle echoing in her ear as he buried his head in her hair, shoulders shaking with laughter.

"That's adorable. If I had a dog of mine..."

Emma cut him off. "Nana is yours too, you know."

He flashed her a grateful smile - she knew how he felt about being a part of something, of a family, of _their_ family, even if it was as the co-owner of their dog in a sense. She knew because she had been there. They both had.

The lost boy and the lost girl.

"I know. I meant, if I had owned a dog when I was Henry's age, I would have picked out the weirdest name or something. Like Rambo or whatever. I'm super lame for those."

Before she could tease him about his rather impressive naming skills, Henry jumped into the conversation. "Then it'll be mom picking up names for future babies - don't worry, it worked for me. Henry's awesome." Ignoring the blank expressions and sudden pale faces of both adults, he whirled around, his eyes widening and sprinting off when he spied Nana running in the other direction. "Nana! Come here!"

Emma gulped loudly. "Too soon."

"Your son is turning out to be quite the comedian," he admitted in a choked voice, and she couldn't help but agree with him.

* * *

"Tell me you're kidding."

"I am not. We're doing this."

"Ruby."

"Yes?"

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Si."

"No."

"Oui."

Emma stuck her index finger in front of her, trying to appear threatening. "Don't go all cosmopolitan on me. I don't care. No."

Ruby just pouted, jutting out her bottom lip and even daring to lace her hands in front of her in a pleading position. "But it'll be fun! Why can't you just accept that it's happening and shut up?"

"Because I agreed to a celebration party - not to a fucking costume party!" Really, her friend always had this way of hers to turn _everything_ she said into whatever her crazy little mind wanted - and, in this case, the 'we should totally have a celebration for all these news!' had snowballed into some kind of weird costume crazy party of hers.

Which shouldn't have surprised her at all, now that she thought about it, taking into account how Ruby's inner mind usually worked. Because she was '_fun_' like that.

Yep. Apparently, Ruby's ideas always were _fun_.

_Fun_ as in _NO-NO-NO_ for Emma.

The brunette shook her head and went about her things, acting as if she weren't at all concerned about Emma's say in the matter. Which she was sure was what was going on. Because she didn't care. Bitch. "You said yes to the party bit - now, the details..."

"But...," she tried to interrupt her, yet Ruby just went on, ignoring her.

"...and it's not just for you, you know. This is for all of us. We need this! The boys are nominated for those awards, and then you're off to oh-la-là land to work with Mulan, and then your brother is getting married, and everything is going so good - we deserve this! And besides, it'll be like your goodbye party before you and Graham leave for Europe."

Emma deflated on her bed, tiredly rubbing her temples with her hand. She was leaving in merely a week, and she wasn't so looking forwards to it as she'd have expected, not even the thrill of visiting those cities making her feel slightly better. Which was weird. And on top of that, add _this_. "I know. But..."

Ruby clapped her hands, stopping her from continuing and loudly commanding, "but nothing. We're celebrating. And you're coming. And you'll love it."

She got really aggressive with these things. She really did. Had always been like this.

"But why do we have to wear costumes at all?"

"Because it'll be fun! In fact, I got the idea after Killian told me he had seen some pictures of you dressed up as a pirate when you were younger."

She whipped her head to her friend like she had some sort of mechanism, letting out a loud shriek. "He did _what_? I am going to kill him."

"Sure. Be bad to him. Like, bad, bad," Ruby taunted, arching her eyebrows and flashing her pearly white teeth in a teasing smile.

"Ruby..."

Widening her eyes in mock innocence, she put a hand over her heart. "What? Am I not allowed to joke about your sexual life anymore? I'm outraged."

Emma couldn't help but scoff at her friend's antics. Seriously. Like she had ever stopped herself from making any kind of quip about all of her pursuers since they had met each other. Emma had suffered every _'wait - but how long did it last', 'how was it', 'did you snuggle afterwards?', 'did you fake it'_ a girl could have thrown her way from an overly curious best friend.

She wouldn't recommend it. At all. Ever.

"Sure, we can talk about yours, see how that goes," she retorted, hoping that'd make her the least bit uncomfortable. Payback.

A stupid idea, really, seeing as Ruby knew _nothing_ about that feeling. Emma sometimes wondered how would it feel like to not be consumed by that crippling fear of embarrassment which often plagued her life.

"You know I have no problem about it." See? It was like she didn't even know the meaning of the word 'self consciousness'. She shook her head in exasperation.

"Actually you're right. What was I thinking."

"You're such a prude."

Emma gasped, outraged. "I am not."

Her friend eyed her as she went on fixing her things on the table, and Emma clenched her jaw stubbornly. Of course she had been trying to bait her so she'd spill. Ugh. "Guess I'll have to ask Killian."

"You wouldn't dare," she threatened in between gritted teeth.

"Try me." Oh God, she was about to swipe that smug-ass smile of hers with her pillow, she just knew it if she kept egging her on. Taking back her script and holding it protectively over her chest, she picked a cookie from a plate they both had brought up with them to her room as she spat at her, "you're the worst." Suddenly, a random thought crossed her mind and her hand froze, cookie in mid air and lips parted in confusion. "Wait - you chose the costumes already, didn't you?"

She didn't know why she even bothered to ask. Really.

"Of course I did. At least ours. I know the boys' are a surprise, and Mary Margaret told me about hers and your brother's... and Belle's and Mr. Gold's too. And Regina's. And Ella's. And Aurora's. And Graham's. And of course I had to pick something for poor Gracie - and Henry just told me himself what he wanted to be so I could help him with it," the brunette answered, counting every name in her fingers until she nearly had none left.

Goog God, how many people would be coming? And they had _all_ agreed to this? Why was no one else dreading this thing? Why did she have to be the only one whining about it, making her look like the drama queen of the whole gang?

...well, maybe she was, but she was not willing to go down that path. Fuck it.

"Mr. Gold is going to be here? In a costume? Oh my God," she exhaled, making a face trying to picture the manager, always so composed and smart-looking, caving to her friend's idea. How had she managed _that_? Emma shook her head, not even trying to come up with an answer to that. "So basically you know everything."

"That's pretty much it, yeah. Except the boys'," Ruby explained shrugging, leaving her things and coming to sit beside her, snagging a cookie for herself and munching on it.

Emma fixed her with a worried look. "Do I really want to know? Will you make me parade around showing off skin like a tart?"

She seemed offended by that, but the affronted look on her face soon morphed into a mischievous smile. "Who do you take me for? Oh, believe me - you are going to love it. You adore her."

Why was it that she didn't feel at all relieved by this?

"...I do?"

"You want a hint?" Oh, the glint in those hazel eyes made her tremble. In panic. And dread.

...and maybe a hint of anticipation.

"...sure?"

Ruby's cookie-free hand came up to curl a lock of golden hair around her finger. "You'll end up letting down your hair."

* * *

Emma stared at her reflection in the mirror, face pinched in disbelief at the whole situation. "I can't believe I ever trusted you when you said this would be a good idea."

A loud sigh was heard behind her as Ruby kept fixing her make up in another hand mirror she always carried around with herself. "Emma, please - stop it."

"Ruby." Hey, if they all had their fashion brigade routine, Emma had the right to follow her pre-party brooding routine, right?

Her friend didn't look like she would put up with any of her shit, though - which Emma found entirely unfair, but hey, when had they actually listened to her whining, huh? "You look fantastic you hear me?"

Emma tugged uncomfortably at the hem of her sleeve, studying the sweetheart neckline, the bodice made of heavily brocaded purple fabric with fine pink vines interwoven with pink flowers. The skirt came down to her mid-calf, giving out a slight metallic sheen in the light of the room.

"I look like..."

"A princess!" Emma flinched at the word as Ruby squealed in delight, turning around to inspect her work. They had been in there a couple of hours, making sure everything was perfect - and Emma had to give it to her friend, she had not missed a single detail, making sure everything was downright accurate to the character she was supposed to play.

"Rapunzel was not a princess right until the end," she reminded her, trying to get used to the sight of her own hair with the flowered braid Ruby had made her wear. She had been absolutely speechless when she had brought it for her to see - she hadn't expected her to find something so fitting. But her friend had insisted - 'if you want to make a serious costume, make research and find the best quality wig!'.

Why she sounded like someone from an ad selling weird wigs to bald people, Emma would never know.

Ruby made a face at her, as if she couldn't believe she was still fighting her about this. "That's what you love most about her! She's a badass and she's funny and quirky and you are just like her and you adored her since we went to watch that movie so stop denying it - you nearly squealed when I told you my idea!"

Okay, that she couldn't deny. They had gone the three of them - Ruby, Henry and her, that is - to watch it as soon as it came out and apart from laughing, crying and awing at the marvel that was the movie, both of her accompanies had turned towards her when Rapunzel suffered her sudden bipolar attack, nearly screaming at her how _'she is you!'._

She hadn't been able to convince them otherwise. Maybe because she liked the character too much.

"But... the hair..."

Ruby got up from the bed and walked towards her, holding the end of the braid in her hands and putting it over her shoulder so it'd fall in front of her. "...you mean these fabulous extensions that look like they come right from _your_ hair?! Or the million flowers in the braid? It's not even _that_ heavy. So stop complaining or I'm going to kick you out." She studied her from head to toe closely, her expression intent and predatory - exactly as the perfectionist she was should look. She pointed at her feet. "And hey, you get to go around barefoot."

That, she did. "That's what I'm most pleased about, to be honest."

Take that, stupid heels. Today I am definitely not spraining my ankle.

Or losing any shoes.

Ruby pushed her to the side so she'd have more space to stare at herself in the mirror, not giving her a second glance: her work there was apparently done. _Thank the Lord_. "Shut up. You look gorgeous."

"Look who's talking, Elvish princess."

Who was she kidding, Ruby always looked like a fucking princess, but this was just ridiculous. When she had finally revealed her the costumes they were wearing, Emma had outright laughed because the least she would have expected from her friend was to accept wearing elvish ears.

Ears that reminded her of Killian, but that was not the point.

Either way, Ruby being Arwen had been definitely a spot on idea. Well, in fact Ruby could probably rock a fucking plastic bag and still walk the catwalk, but yeah. And of course, Arwen being not only like, the most freaking gorgeous elf in the whole trilogy who got the sexy man in the end, of course needed the most freaking beautiful gown and tiara. Emma had found herself blinking out of her stupor a couple of times already as she stared at her, mesmerized as she nearly waltzed from here to there, and she had silently wondered if the costume gave her some sort of gliding quality to her movements.

Which was stupid, but hey, it was food for thought. For the future.

She was weird like that.

"Hey - it's a surprise. Victor is such a _Lord of the Rings _freak, he made me watch the whole trilogy. He even knows some Elvish. It's insane," Ruby refuted, fixing the silver tiara over her head for the thousandth time. Emma shuddered at the thought of what Victor could possibly want to speak to her best friend in Elvish for, but she was positive about not wanting to find out, thank you very much.

Right before she warned her not to share with her anything about it, there was a knock in her door and a little head peeked from behind. "Mom?"

"Oh my God. I am dying."

Henry's face paled and he scanned the room briefly, probably wondering if there was something wrong. "Why?"

"You look. So. _Cute_." Ruby declared as she trotted towards him, kneeling before him and pinching his cheeks affectionately, nearly squealing as she brushed nonexisting dust from his costume. Henry scoffed at her, albeit looking pleased with her compliment.

Kids.

"Mom, please tell Ruby she's being silly?"

Emma let out a chuckle and came to a halt in front of him, fixing his hat over his brown locks. "Like that'd work. What is it, cowboy?"

He swatted her hand away, taking off the hat and putting it back grudgingly. He had asked Ruby to help him look for Woody's costume, as he had been quite fond of cowboys in general and of Toy Story in particular, and of course Ruby had dutifully complied. He looked the part, Emma mused, internally considering if she should joke about putting him away in a box instead of a bed at night. "There are people already here - Graham, Aurora, Regina, Daniel, Belle and so on. Thought I'd let you know."

"Thank you, we'll be down in a minute - think you can handle being the host for a little while while I help Ruby finish getting ready?" Though Emma wasn't sure how long it'd be until Ruby would consider she was perfectly perfect. That could take a while.

And she wouldn't have to go down and let everybody see her like this.

Ugh, she was dreading it already.

Henry nodded, already spinning on his feet to go back downstairs to join the rest of the party. "Sure. I think aunt Mary Margaret was about to join you here to check out your costumes."

"In fact she is here."

The three of them turned to the voice coming from the doorway and froze.

"Oh my God."

"I know!" The newcomer shrieked, elated by their reaction.

"Fuck the make up, I am going to cry," Ruby said, fanning herself with her hand.

"NO CURSING IN FRONT OF MY KID."

Mary Margaret laughed at that, waving the white parasol in her hand so gracefully as if it were an extension from her arm. "Good luck with that." Henry laughed and kissed her cheek on his way out, leaving the three friends to their devices.

Which meant squeal and flail and giggle like five-year-olds, but yeah, whatever.

Emma stared at her future sister-in-law, grinning like a fool. "Please tell me you and David are going to Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious us later, or I'll be super pissed."

"I'd love to and you know it, though David, on the other hand...," she answered, pouting, dishearted at the thought. Emma laughed: David was not so fond of musicals as they were; she couldn't believe Mary Margaret had convinced him to go as the Berk to her Mary Poppins in their shining merry-go-round costumes. She looked right down the perfect singing-anything-you-want nanny with her white gloves, hat and dress, parasol still hanging from her arm as she inspected them both in return, her hands going to her cheeks in admiration. "Oh, Ruby, you look amazing, this gown is just beautiful! And Emma, the hair looks like it's yours, it's incredible!"

Ruby patted her gown in delight. "Thank you - and see? I've been trying to talk her down for the last week." Typical Ruby. Of course she'd try to gang with Mary Margaret against her.

She didn't disappoint. Giving her a reproaching look, Mary Margaret sighed. "As always. Hey, I think everybody's here already - you really need to see this. It's hilarious, I swear I couldn't keep myself from laughing every couple of minutes."

Emma felt her heart race. Oh no. She had to go. Downstairs. Where people were. They surely would look ridiculous too - as in, ridiculously perfect, and even if her friends said she was okay, she still felt nervous.

_Oh my God Emma you are an actress what is wrong with you._

As if reading her mind, both of her friends gripped each one of her arms and pushed her towards the door, not leaving her any other choice but to follow them. Or fight them. "Time to face the music, Swan."

That was about it, really. Sighing loudly just to make her point clear - she was _not_ happy with any of it - she descended the stairs towards the living room, where with Henry and Ruby's help, they had moved around the furniture so there would be space to mingle, arranging the table with the food and drinks at one side and the couches and ottomans on the other. When they reached the doorway, the sudden clashing of colors and lights from everybody's clothes nearly blinded Emma for a moment. After squinting her eyes for a second, she just stared ahead of her, dumbfounded.

"Oh. My. God."

"Told you," Mary Margaret's gleeful voice answered from her right, bouncing on her feet and waving at David on the other side of the room, sporting his Berk's costume as he talked animatedly with Ella and Thomas - or should she say Tinkerbell and MarioBros?

"Oh my God!"

"This is all you're going to say for a while, you know," Ruby laughed, taking her hand in hers and dragging her inside. She was about to lose it, she really was. Someone passed by her and she jumped in surprise and shock - who was dressed as Betty and Barney Rubble from The Flintstones...?

"OH MY GOD REGINA."

Her manager. Was. Dressed. As Betty. With a blue short dress and a ribbon on her hair. Regina. Ribbon.

Time of death: 8:15 PM.

Regina laughed at her expression, putting her hands on her hips. "What? You thought I couldn't manage to have some fun or what?" She hugged her and left to greet the rest of the attendees, Daniel behind her winking at her and praising her costume.

Was this the real life? Freddy Mercury, were you really in a costume party like this when you wrote that song? If so, I feel ya, buddy.

She spied her son running around congratulating everybody and illustrating his points with bold sweeps of his arms, noticing the pistols attached to his slim hips - making her realize that she had forgotten her own weapon.

Her frying pan. And Pascal.

She hurriedly went up the stairs (ha! barefoot she felt like she could practically fly and waltz wherever she wanted to) to fetch them in her bedroom - ah, the stuffed Pascal was such a cutie, it was the best thing about this whole costume. When she was ready and after a last grimace in the mirror, she came back when the doorbell rang. She froze and, seeing as nobody was coming, resignedly made her way towards the door, opening it slowly.

No. Fucking. Way.

"Now that's what I call a princess."

"Please tell me you five are joking," she declared, really tempted to close the door in their noses. Or fall to the floor in a fit of giggles. She was not sure yet.

"That we're assembling at your door? Not at all."

"You. Are. A bunch. Of. Idiots," she enunciated clearly every word.

"But we are AWESOME right?," August asked excitedly, and they all posed once more.

Oh God. If the living room scene had been an out-of-body experience, this was way worse.

Before she could come up with something witty to say, Henry showed up beside her, his screaming probably being heard on the other side of the city. "YOU GUYS ARE THE AVENGERS!"

Yep. The five of them had come as each one of the Avengers, and Emma couldn't really help but laugh at the assembly at her doorway.

"YOU ARE WOODY FROM TOY STORY! THAT WAS MY FAVORITE MOVIE!," Victor yelled in response, eyes lit up in awe as he stared down at Henry.

Emma let herself inspect all of them - and Aurora and Grace, who had come along, the first one wearing a long, flowing white gown and a beautiful golden laurel wreath on her head, surely resembling some kind of Greek goddess, meanwhile Grace was the exact replica of Alice in Wonderland - stuffed white rabbit holding a clock in its paw included.

The idiots in question, though, were another story. She should ask who had convinced poor Jefferson to wear all that green paint to go as the Hulk, or August to wear such tight clothing - though what guy had never dreamt of being Captain America once in their lives? Victor, on his part, looked happy enough with his wig and hammer to go with Thor's ensemble, and kept teasing Henry about how he was a God and therefore they should all address him with respect or he'd make sure to burn them after calling on lighting. Philip strode in with Aurora, his bow and arrows strapped to his back as Hawkeye - and really, what a weird couple that'd be, but hey, who was she to complain, love had a weird way to work right? Even in between comics and Greek mythology.

And of course, the biggest idiot in between the idiots, had to be the 'genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.' She bet anything he even found himself connected in some way with the character.

Breaking away from her thoughts, she kneeled in front of Grace and took her hand, beaming at her and praising her beautiful costume. "Why is no one talking about how amazing Alice is please? Come here Gracie - I bet Ruby is going to cry when she sees you."

"Where is Ruby?" Victor inquired, and she was more than amused to see him fixing his wig and petting his red cape over his shoulders. She smirked.

"Oh, she's inside freaking out, but I'm sure you'll like her costume..."

She made a motion for them to follow her inside, still dragging Grace by the hand as she commented with her how pretty she looked and how Henry would love it - she thought Victor would approve of this move, as he had insisted how they should make the kids 'mate', and even if she had found the idea stupid and sexist, it was true that Henry liked to talk about Grace... maybe a little too much, and it amused her to no end, - and before she could find her son, Killian's voice boomed in the room.

"HUMBERT, THIS IS AN OUTRAGE."

Graham interrupted his conversation with Belle - who was dressed as princess Leia, which was not lost on Emma, who still had to drool over her awesome dress and hairdo because hello, Leia, hello, childhood heroine, hello, awesomeness, - to fix his friend with a confused expression. "Why?"

Killian waved a hand in front of him, signaling his blue and white painted face and scottish attire. "Scotland? We're IRISH."

Graham laughed, ignoring him, and raised a wooden sword he had brought with him - she should really warn him about it just in case he broke something, though she was sure he would just scoff and tell her to be careful with the frying pan in return. Which could be potentially true. "FOR FREEDOM!"

"FREEDOM!," they all answered in answer, raising various weapons or trinkets they had brought with themselves as part of their costumes. Emma just rolled her eyes to the ceiling, the braid swinging behind her like a pendulum.

"You lot are stupid."

Killian came to stand next to her, examining everybody around them with a curious expression, a small smile playing on his lips. Suddenly, his face turned confused. "Hey - why did we all have to dress up but Gold is just his plain old self?"

Emma cocked her head to the side. It was true, though - his manager had achieved to avoid the whole this-is-a-costume-party thing, as he was just wearing a suit, though he had opted for a bowtie instead of a tie and was wearing a pair of sunglasses. Weird. She opened her mouth to tell him how they should punish him for ignoring the party rules when Belle appeared beside them. "He's actually in a costume."

"...is he?"

She nodded, signaling towards her husband, giggling as she explained herself. "I told him he could be a mafia capo so he wouldn't throw a fit, you know, looking all crisp in his suit like always - but I told him he had to wear the sunglasses. For us, he's PSY. Just don't tell him."

The both of them froze, rooted to the spot, and gawked at her. "You did not."

Killian draped an arm over her shoulders, muffling his laugh on his other hand. "I love you Bells. Leia. Whatever."

"You'll never get him to Gangman Style us, though," Emma commented sadly. That would be epic. That would be a wonderful memory to part with to Europe. Killian and Belle laughed at her words, and Belle let out a sigh, sending a warm smile in her husband's direction.

"Yeah, that'd be pushing it." She patted her arm and kissed Killian's cheek before leaving to greet Ruby and the rest on the other side of the room, and he took the advantage to grab her and push her against his side.

How could an Ironman costume feel so weird, she would never know. At least he wasn't wearing the mask - that had to count for something. He pressed a kiss against her lips, softly trying to pry them apart, but she shook her head with a laugh, and he pouted, giving her a dejected look - which promptly morphed into a smile, pulling away to appraise her.

"By the way, you look amazing," he commended her. God, she was blushing. Of course she was. She was wearing a wig, a too-small dress, and make up, and a ton of flowers which surely would be falling from her hair and... Oh Emma, stop it already.

She scrunched up her nose. "Drop it."

"Why?"

She fixed him with her best annoyed look, putting her hands on her hips and tapping her bare foot on the floor. "We were Batman and Robin, yet you preferred to be Ironman with your pals. Cheater."

He put his hands up in surrender - which was stupid in her book, because wasn't the whole point of Ironman's hands to be a _weapon_? "Hey - but you could be my Pepper Potts."

"Nope."

He came behind her and wrapped his arms around her. Ugh, he was doing it again. Whenever she was put out, he went to the tickling and the snuggling. It was _not_ fair. "I should have been a koala just to freak you out. And you could have been a tree and I'd have been hanging from you all day."

Seriously? Was he trying to get her to stop being annoyed at him threatening her with going as a freaking _koala_?! She ignored him, jutting out her chin and staring ahead of her, doing her best not to shiver as his breath tickled her neck. "Come on, princess."

Really, could everybody please stop calling her that? She fought the flinch she was about to let out, opting to joke her way around. "Not a princess. A khaleesi."

She felt his laughter inside the whole metallic weird costume thing he was wearing. "Did you just..." He didn't even finish the sentence as another fit of laughter hit him, his forehead falling on her shoulder. Was it weird that she felt insanely flattered for him finding her funny? God, Emma, you're lame. Finally recovering from his giggling attack, he dropped his arms and came to stand in front of her, giving her a grin. "Wrong costume, blondie."

She rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue at him, going to the table to grab a bite with the rest of the group, him following her steps. She hadn't even made it to the brownies - hello there, chocolate heaven, I had missed you, - when Mr. Gold cleared his throat loudly, cue to all of them to turn to him, standing in the middle of the room, commanding their attention.

Even after the revelation of his hidden - and unknown - costume, the man managed to look imposing. How the fuck did he do that?

Emma decided to bite the brownie instead of wondering about it.

"There's something I'd like to announce, now that we're all gathered here. See, as I know this is a celebration for Miss Swan's newest project, apart from the success of both her and Mister Humbert movie, I've been told today some news regarding my boys."

They all stood there in silence, waiting for him to continue. Apparently, Gold was big on dramatics, and he needed public interaction or something, because after an awkward pause, Philip had to intervene. "You have?"

Gold nodded. "Yeah. Apart from those nominations we've heard about, you five have also been asked to perform." Another pause. Oh God. Did they have to answer to that? Was it just a dramatic effect? What was wrong with this guy? "At the MTV Movie Awards."

Oh, good.

"No way," August breathed, disbelief clear in his expression as he put a hand on his face. They all erupted into cheers, congratulating each other - everybody coming to clap shoulders and backs, hugs being exchanged and squeals from Ruby and Aurora mingling with exclaimed "that is awesome!" and "amazing!" - and of course, Nana's barking, poor thing, surely she had no idea what the hell was going on yet she added her input of cheer to the reunion.

Graham approached the group and smirked at them, raising his eyebrows. "Another red carpet we'll all attend together. Oh, joy."

Oh GOD. Why hadn't she thought of that? Emma, what is wrong with you, you're being slower than you usually are.

Oh, right. She guessed it had to be with the fact that she had been totally drooling over her... whatever Killian was as he jumped and congratulated his bandmates, the real delight in his face as he hugged Jefferson and then lifted Grace in his arms, spinning her around.

Nah. It had nothing to do with that. Not at all.

August turned to Graham with a surprised look. "You're going?"

Graham nodded, signaling in Emma's direction with a motion of his head. "We've been nominated - Best Movie, Best Fight and what not. You know, because we're badasses."

"That is awesome too!," Killian beamed at her, his arm curling around her waist and bringing her closer to him. She smiled back at him, a part of her confusedly acknowledging how... warm it felt to have someone apart from her family supporting her, though she guessed he had already done that since long ago, like the other day when she had gotten that call from Mulan.

"Sure. Especially the Best Kiss category, huh, guys?"

Emma facepalmed herself. How had she not seeing coming. _HOW_. "...really Ruby?"

Her friend ignored her, sending Graham a wink, her lips curling into a teasing smile. "No wonder you guys got nominated. That was one hell of a hot kiss. You're _so_ going to win."

Cue to the hand grabbing her tightening its hold on her hip.

Emma waved a hand, dismissing her friend's words. "Pffft, please. It's always for the Twilight kids, we're safe."

They all set to discuss other years' awards ceremonies - the hosts, the performances they had watched and how they had gone, and memorable moments that had taken place during some of them - and she chose the current distraction to pull them apart from the conversation, bringing Killian with her. She fixed him with a challenging look, turning from his eyes to the arm currently crushing her waist, and she cocked an eyebrow at him in defiance. "You jealous?"

He let out a too-loud-to-be-honest scoff. "Me? You wish."

"You are," she accused him. Why was she smiling?

Oh, who was she kidding, a guy being jealous over you was the ultimate ego fueler.

"Am not." Aw, look at him. Total kid attitude. So cute. Stomping foot on the floor now, please.

Fighting the urge to tease him a bit more, she cupped his cheek in her hand. "It's a kiss. It's no big deal."

"I know. That's why I don't care," he repeated stubbornly. O-kay. Two could play this game.

"So if Graham and I had to kiss just like in the movie..."

His grip on her tightened even more, and she was sure there would be marks on her skin when she finally got rid of the costume that night. "Swan, do not push me," he growled in her ear. She fought the urge to shiver at the commanding tone he used. Emma, focus. It's your turn.

She stood on her feet, leaning in and whispering in a throaty voice, "maybe I want you to push me." She let the words hang in the air for a couple of seconds, relishing in the way his breath halted. "...against a tree."

He actually let out a low whimper. "You are going to be the death of me."

She pulled away from him, smirking and proud of her small victory, sending a wink over her shoulder as she left to join their friends again.

The rest of the evening went surprisingly smoothly - no drinks spilled, no fights, and no embarrassing moments in which costumes suddenly ripped baring skin, as she had feared in her worst nightmares since she had found out about this party. At one point, though, she had no clue about who had come up with the brilliant idea of karaoking, playing around with some guitars and a small keyboard August had brought with him. Emma refused to join, so she stood far away from there, sitting with Ella and Belle for a while - until she saw Henry running around, Nana following him in his wake nearly bumping one of the tables propped against the wall.

"Henry, stop it or you guys are going to break something!"

He turned towards her. "You're not the boss of me! Andy is!" Before she could ask him who had been giving him any of the adult drinks so she could cut their balls off, he brought his boot up, showing the scrawled "ANDY" on the sole of the shoe proudly, just like the character had in the movie.

Ella and Belle cracked up next to her - along with Killian, who had just shown up with a drink for her, offering it to her gentlemanly with a mock bow. "Your son is the actual best."

She was about to answer him when she heard the familiar tune coming from the singing group. Right on cue, Henry's squeal rang in her ears. "Mom! It's our song!"

...oh. NO.

"Henry...," she pleaded with him. Please, anything, _anything_ but that. What had she been thinking letting people sing in her house? But how could have she known they'd sing that song?

Henry and she had started this thing when he was a kid - whenever they were sad, or worried, or just felt like it, they would sing to each other this particular song, so they'd end up singing it together, normally hugging and comforting the other. Coldplay's '_Clocks_'. He had told her once that the piano line soothed him the first time he ever listened to it - and she had kind of felt the same. He was her son, after all.

"Please, please, please? It's our song! We have to!," he all but begged, sending her puppy eyes.

Damn it. Sometimes she forgot it worked both ways - she wasn't the only one allowed to use those to get what she wanted. She could feel Killian's eyes on them, but she refused to look back at him or she'd probably lose the tiny ounce of bravado urging her to give in to her son's plea. She got up and followed him towards August and the rest of the clique huddled around the couch, and Ruby patted her side, knowing the story behind the song for her and Henry. She sat, Henry joining her and perching himself over her legs, and she embraced him from behind, singing along with him and trying not to blush at the startled expressions of the rest of the group, who stared in amazement as they both finished the song, not missing a single lyric or note. She interlocked her fingers with his son's and kissed the top of his head when they were done, ignoring the clapping and cheers from the rest, praising them for such a great performance.

"I thought you didn't sing after that... 'incident'?"

She let her head fall on Henry's back as he conversed with Jefferson and Grace, and she locked eyes with Killian, who was staring at her, his expression carefully guarded. "I don't."

At his raised eyebrow, she sighed again and closed her eyes, suddenly feeling raw and exposed. Like when you dreamt you were naked in class or somewhere. "In public."

He kneeled beside her, his eyes roaming around her face, and she felt herself flush under the intensity of his scrutiny. How had he such power over her? "You should. You'd enchant everybody."

"Sure I would."

"You most definitely would. You're a siren, Emma."

* * *

"Where are you taking me?," he asked her, head turning from one side to another of the street they were strolling through, curiously peering at the displays of the shops they passed by that showed in their windows, probably trying to guess what they were doing there. Emma wasn't about to budge, though.

"It's a surprise," she repeated for the hundredth time since they had met that evening. She had called him under the pretense that they could spend a couple of hours together - and so she could fulfill her 'secret mission' - which he was finding about right now, still confusedly scratching the back of his head looking for whatever it was that could give him some kind of clue as to their purpose there. She squeezed his hand in hers reassuringly, making him lift his eyes to her face. "I'm leaving tomorrow, and I still needed to give you a birthday present."

He arched an eyebrow at her, tugging on her hand back and trying - unsuccessfully, mind you - to hide a smirk. "Emma, if I recall correctly, you _did_ give me a rather amazing birthday present..."

She tried to hide her blush, to no avail, scenes of the night after Coachella roaming through her mind. Yeah, that one had been... interesting. Not one to let him get the upper hand, though, she cocked her hip to the side, her teeth nipping her bottom lip teasingly. "I may have called it a present, but who says that wasn't for me and not for you, huh?"

Eyes not leaving her mouth, he dragged her towards him in a swift movement, leaving her pressed against his chest, nearly knocking the breath out of her. "You are too much," he murmured huskily. Voice turning softer, his other hand sought her hair, putting it behind her ear in slow, tender movements. "Seriously - you don't need to give me anything. Just this?," he explained, motioning between them with his finger, "it's the best thing you could ever offer me. You have no idea how..."

She leaned forward, her fingers pressing against his lips tenderly so he'd stop talking. Even though she could think of other ways to do it, she was getting quite overwhelmed at the turn in their conversation, the ragged edge to his voice, the haunting look in his eyes. "I know. But I want to. And I think you'll like it."

She smiled - a full on grin, in a valiant effort to diminish his unease - and pushed him towards one of the establishments crammed in between buildings, a rather curious sign with bold black letters shining against a golden background with a design of a couple of crossed arrows reading 'True North' not really giving away what went down inside.

But the windows certainly did, as she could confirm when Killian froze next to her, her hand nearly cramming in pain as he practically crushed it inside his.

A tattoo parlor.

"Emma...," he whispered, voice full of doubt. She walked ahead of him and turned, gripping both of his hands in hers and standing on the tip of her toes.

He was quite taller than her, now that she thought of it.

"Trust me?," she implored, staring at him underneath her lashes. Puppy eyes. They always worked.

He eyed her nervously, gulping loudly. "I trust you, but what are we doing here?"

She grinned even broader at this, cocking her head towards the shop. "Setting you free, of course." She let her hand fall from his, opting to trace up along the tattoo on his right forearm lightly, noticing how he shivered nearly imperceptibly at the action. "Look, you can't change the past, what you went through. None of us can. I want you to move forward. Do you?"

She held her breath. A small part of her still harbored some kind of doubt, a lack of faith that had been so inherently hers for so long when it came to opening herself up to other people that kept resurfacing even in the least expected moments - and with the least expected people. Like Killian, when he had nothing but proved since they had started whatever it was they had embarked on that he was here to stay. For her.

Yet it was terrifying, as always, to consider that it could all go to hell - or that he still held back because of his old feelings for Milah.

She let herself close her eyes in relief for an instant, - praying to any God above listening that he wouldn't notice, - as he replied, not an ounce of hesitancy in his voice, "of course."

Here came the big speech she had prepared just in case he gave her hell. "Then take it as a metaphor. Even if I myself don't wear any tattoos, I commend the ones which bear a message - and yours is pretty clear. Do you still want to wear the proof that she has the power to keep you locked under her watch? Or would you rather get out?" There, that had been convincing enough, right? She had always been good in these metaphor/symbol thing, if her grades in high school and college when it came to analyzing books and poems proved something.

He moved his face from the ink marring his skin to her face, a frown forming between his brows in confusion. "You know in here they draw new tattoos and not erase older ones, right?"

"I know," she responded, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She was kind of enjoying seeing him fret. Pulling him towards the front door, she called over her shoulder, "it's your lucky day, lost boy. You're flying home."

They entered the dimly lit parlor, squinting their eyes as they approached the small counter where the tattoo artist sat, focused over a piece of paper doodling some sketches in thick and raw strokes. He jolted when Emma cleared her throat to make sure he realized there were actual clients, and finally acknowledged them, inquiring which one of them would be getting inked. She fished a piece of paper from the back pocket of her jeans, to Killian's utmost bemusement - poor thing, he looked so clueless, - and handed it to the guy, explaining the idea. He seemed impressed with her choice: it was quite a pretty design she had looked for online, after a rather tiring search in a never ending zigzagging and come-and-go from one web to another, passing various hipsters blogs which had made her want to stab her eye with a fork in ninety percent of the cases. She had finally found a rather beautiful silhouette of a bird which, in her eyes, fit perfectly with the already drawn design on his forearm. She had had time to memorize the tattoo itself since they had discussed about it for the first time that day at his place, when he had broken down after she had mentioned how Milah had confronted her in the bathroom at Wonderland - so she was more than familiar with it. She was just a tad insecure of what she had come up with, though she shouldn't have, as Killian lifted his eyebrows in surprise and nodded solemnly in the direction of the tattoo artist, who was waiting for his permission to set everything ready so they'd get started.

Emma shuffled on her feet as the guy left, a sudden embarrassment of acknowledging what he was thinking or feeling at the moment. If this had been a bad idea, after all. She felt her chin being pulled up, his hands warm against her skin, and she found herself staring right back at him, his blue gaze searching hers - who knows to looking for what in them. She inhaled sharply, and his lips twitched in response at her unease, pulling her closer against him. Tangling his fingers in her hair, he held her tightly, the beating of his heart hammering loudly against her chest in a mismatched cacophony with hers.

"You have no idea what you're doing to me. No idea at all," his lips whispered against her temple, kissing it softly.

God, she was about to melt.

"Same here," she finally muttered, her voice coming out in barely a whisper muffled against the skin of his neck.

The sound of footsteps came from the hall leading to the actual parlor where the stretcher laid and the tattoos were done, and they pulled apart, still holding hands though. They followed the artist to said room, walls fully wallpapered with crazy drawings which Emma set to examine curiously as Killian got ready, not appearing the least bit apprehensive. She guessed it was somewhat familiar to him, not being his first time and all. She decided to sit by him when the needle started to brand his skin, telling him idle stories and relishing in their silly banter, at which they were pros since they had met those months ago, - so he'd be entertained and not focusing on the pain.

At a couple of moments, though, she noticed him flinching and clenching his jaw. "Hurts?," she asked worriedly and fighting the urge to grab his hand, which lay curled in a fist at his side. He smoothed his features carefully in record time, a smug smile replacing his earlier grimace.

"Nah."

She passed her fingers through the hair falling over his forehead, a small smile ghosting her lips. "Look at you, being a toughie. Trying to impress me?"

"Do I need to?"

Before she could answer, the artist chuckled, amused, and rolled his eyes at Killian. "Dude, even I'd try to impress her."

...okay, what was that supposed to mean.

Killian didn't even bat an eyelash at his comment, though, shrugging indifferently and signaling her with his head, trying to keep still in order not to mess the drawing being carefully branded on his forearm. "But she's mine already."

"Who cares. Chicks need to feel smothered with attention, don't cha, blondie?," replied the guy, cocking an eyebrow at her. She decided to indulge him, pursing her lips and pointing at him confidently as she addressed Killian, who kept smiling at her, as if nothing bothered him at the moment.

"Please pay attention to the expert."

It wasn't too long until the needle was left in the tray next to the stretcher, and the artist wiped the sweat from his forehead, declaring that he was done. Emma rose from her seat, carefully maneuvering around them so she'd take a peek at it from the other side. She gasped, her eyes closely examining the added ink to his previous design.

"It's beautiful," she breathed in marvel, her fingers itching to touch it but knowing she couldn't, as it needed to be tended to until it healed.

She could feel his eyes on her as she bent over him, until he stated, "just like you."

After Emma had paid - with much complaining and foot-stomping from Killian, as she had expected, - and the artist had reminded Killian about the tattoo aftercare he should follow for it to heal faster and properly, they left the place, and the uneasiness that had plagued her earlier seemed to vanish as he put his arms around her waist and nuzzled her neck affectionately, inhaling slowly, as if he could capture her very essence in one sole breath. Without her realizing it, words poured from her lips.

"Are you coming home?"

His arms tightened around her, and she put her hands over them. "Aren't you leaving tomorrow?"

"Exactly."

"But Henry's at home," he reminded her, as if she didn't know. Duh. Of course she knew.

Though she understood what he was implying. Since they had first slept together, whenever they had shared any kind of sleep, or bed or... 'more enjoyable activities' as he was fond of referring to them, it had always been days when Henry was not at home, or she stayed at Killian's place. She wasn't entirely sure as to why that was - it wasn't as if Henry would be too scandalized if he suddenly found Killian in their kitchen one morning. Sure, her son was quite the curious young man, but who knew what his reaction would be.

Albeit, if she were honest with herself, she should just admit that he'd be practically elated at the thought. He adored Killian, as she had assured him the other day.

Yet... they both knew it was quite a huge step.

And maybe that was why she was so reluctant as to him not spending the night with her when she so obviously wanted him to, especially when she was leaving and wouldn't see her family or him or her friends until a couple of weeks later.

Lacing her fingers with his, she murmured back, "I know." Hoping that he'd understand. That she didn't care. That she was ready.

That she was opening yet another door for him.

He buried his face back against her shoulder, sighing in response. "Okay."

And so he did.

He offered his services as little helper in her packing for her trip for promo, not missing the chance to snoop everywhere he could and tease her about every piece of clothing in her wardrobe - especially the underwear drawer, of-fucking-course, he was _such a child_, - achieving the exact opposite of his mission: delaying the packing itself, as they kept fighting over what she should bring with her or not in regards of its actual utility once she was in Europe.

Just when she was about to pull out her hair, suitcase barely full - finally, - and half amused, half annoyed with him for being such a pain in the ass to her just for the sake of it, he interrupted her thoughts when he palmed one of the pockets on his jacket and took out something from inside, holding it out to her on his palm. "Oh, by the way - I found this laying around my apartment and thought I'd give it to you so you can keep it with all the sentimental mementos you seem to like so much."

She approached him, leaving a pair of Spongebob Squarepants socks on the mattress before she did. She came to a halt in front of him and inspected the small blue object laying on his hand, scrunching her forehead in confusion. "What is it?"

He flashed her a crooked smile. He patted his knee with one hand, and she came to sit on his legs, nestling herself against his chest, examining the item closely with narrowed eyes. "My super special blue star. See, I used it once, made a wish and it came true. What better thing to give to you than a wish?"

Really? That sounded useful.

And disgustingly sweet.

Emma tilted her chin up, turning her head to him and curiosity lacing her voice. "It worked? What did you ask for?"

There was a pregnant pause. "For a family in here. I found my band," he finally admitted, his arms coming around her to caress her own in slow strokes.

She picked the small blue star between her fingers, feeling the somewhat raspy edges, the slight rests of some kind of glitter giving it a curious texture. "Do I have to wish on it now?"

She felt him shake his head behind her, a chuckle escaping his lips. "You can use it whenever you want. It's yours."

She continued her silent inspection of the trinket, marveling at the care he should have had with it as to not having lost it for all those years. It was truly a thoughtful thing to give to her - apart from the implication it could bring with it, along with the added wish supposed to come true if she used it. Sitting straighter on his legs, she craned her neck to spy the surface of her bedside table. "I think I have a chain around to wear it..."

"You are going to _wear_ it?"

...why was he so surprised?

Getting up to sit back again on his legs, though this time facing him and lacing her hands behind his neck, she let her forehead fall against his. "Why not? That way I won't lose it," she explained shrugging. "Can't hurt bringing around some magic around my neck, right?"

She was caught by surprise by his lips devouring hers in a searing kiss, her hands tightening behind him to avoid falling from his lap, she had been so startled. His fingers tangling in the curls on the nape of her neck, making her stay put against his lips - as if she'd go anywhere, - he nipped at her lips fiercely, and her breath started to come out in rapid pants. At last, he pulled away from her, his forehead resting against her collarbone. "I'm falling so hard for you, Emma Swan. Complete free falling. No parachute."

Emma froze, limbs locking in his embrace. Had he said what she thought he had said? Had he admitted... that he was falling in love with her?

Had he?

If a year ago someone had told her that the thought of a man telling her he was falling hard for her would make her actually giddy, melt, putty in your hands, and everything that girly stuff said about being a blubbering messy girl in love, she would have spat some drink in your face just to make a point of her skepticism.

Yet here she was, actual butterflies in her stomach dancing, pulse racing, heart hammering so loud against her chest she thought it was a miracle he hadn't said anything about it, cheeks flushed as if she had been running for hours and a broad grin stealing her expression. She rubbed her nose against his, lips ghosting just over his, barely parted after his breathed words.

"Good thing we know how to fly."

* * *

"Anton, promise me that if Emma starts looking like she's going to doze off you'll protect me from her asleep crazy punching self."

Anton, sitting on the row before them and shifting uncomfortably in his seat - after he had endlessly complained of how small they were and how ridiculous it made him feel every time he had to travel by plane - turned his head slightly to the back so he could send him an apologetic look. "Can't promise anything dude - I get really nervous on planes, I may swallow some chill pills to sleep it through."

Emma shook her head, not even bothering to punch Graham in the arm or roll her eyes at him, she was that unamused. Seriously, she wasn't _that_ bad. Right? She just hoped there wouldn't be any Jon Bon Jovi's incidents this time. "You're being so stupid, it's not even funny."

Graham stuck his tongue out at her before leaning towards the blonde sitting beside Anton, who kept tapping her hands impatiently on the armrests of her seat and staring out of the window. What was it with her costars that they looked so spooked about travelling by plane? Thank God at least Graham wasn't put out at all about it and she'd have him fill the bored hours of flying, as she _really_ needed the company - she got bored way too easily. "Hey Ab, what about you? Will you be my shining princess in armor?"

Abigail snorted loudly, turning her head and giving him a smile full of mischief. "I love how afraid you are of Emma. Not of her boyfriend beating you up, but of her. _Asleep_. Seriously."

Graham shrugged, arms still resting on her seat and his head propped against them, sending a look at Emma while he spoke. "She's weird like that, what can I say."

"Just leave me alone," she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest and sighing heavily, casting her eyes down.

"Someone's grumpy."

"I am not," she huffed, exasperated.

Way to prove your point, Emma. Well done.

"You are," he repeated, leaning back in his seat and stretching his legs as much as the space between the rows allowed him, studying her carefully from the corner of his eyes. Emma tried to ignore him as she stared broodily through the tiny window, the lights and movement from outside making her slightly dizzy. She hadn't had much sleep that night - and not only because of the late packing, the early hour at which she had had to wake up as to leave Henry first at David's or the late-minute nerves about the next week European promo and everything that had been going on lately around her.

Killian had made sure they made the most of their night before she had to leave. So "she'd have happy thoughts to bring with her" for this week.

She missed them already.

"Don't worry, we'll be back in no time."

Blinking profusely, she focused back on her costar, her forehead pinching in confusion. Had she said anything aloud and she hadn't noticed? She had realized lately that her thoughts had been slipping more than once when it concerned her feelings towards the frontman, - a fact that he had found extremely hilarious and she had stated how it wasn't cool at all, as they didn't need feeding his ego even more, - so it wouldn't come as a surprise that she had indeed said anything now, after a whole day and night spent with him and barely catching a blink of sleep. "How did you..."

Graham fixed her with a knowing look. "Please, give me some credit. I'll miss everyone too. But hey, we're going to Europe. There's that," he added, sighing and trying to cheer her up with a shy smile, poking her arm softly. Emma shrugged, not entirely convinced.

"Yeah, I guess."

She was starting to realize what a stubborn bitch drama queen her friends had claimed she was when she was sleep-deprived - and moody. Ugh.

"It'll be fun, I promise."

"I have fun here too," she retorted stubbornly.

Emma, really? Could you please stop it?

Graham seemed not to mind her current predicament, a fond smile on his features as he commented lightheartedly, "I know. The party was amazing to be honest. I had a blast."

She felt herself grinning lightly in return, memories of the evening in question plaguing her brain. There, that wasn't that bad. "Right?"

"Indeed. You were so cute in your costume," he teased.

Of course he'd try to bait her. Eyes rolling to the too-white-and-shiny ceiling, she shook her head, recalling Ruby's threat if she kept insisting on denying she had loved her costume even after giving her so much crap about it. "Next time I'll be the crazy cat lady, I promise."

Yep. Ruby had made it pretty clear.

"Please tell me you're joking," he answered with a laugh. She snorted loudly, clearly amused.

"Better than what Killian proposed - he wanted to come as a koala just to piss me off."

That made him laugh even harder, his hand coming up to rub his eyes. "What a wanker."

Emma smiled softly, her hand coming up to play with the blue star hanging from her neck, rolling it between her fingers, the gesture calming and somewhat soothing even if she had started wearing it hours before after she had found a chain in one of her drawers right after she had finished packing.

He had stared at her like she had been something out of this world. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest just thinking about his expression.

"Tell me about it. But nevertheless, he's _my_ wanker."

Graham turned his head towards her, all playfulness and humor gone from his expression all of a sudden. "I'm glad he found you. He's changed so much since I met him - when we were filming the video, he was..." He paused, frowning as he searched the words. "I don't know how to explain it. He was his usual charming self, but there was this dark side of him, closed. But now he's different. Thanks to you, I bet."

She gripped the star tightly in her hand, her eyes dropping to her lap as her cheeks flamed. She hadn't expected that - even though Killian had admitted pretty much this the day before, it was still unnerving to hear a close friend of his to see it so clearly, too.

"You think so?," she questioned in a small voice, not daring to lock eyes with him.

"Why would I lie to you? And he does the same for you. I thought that after you fought off my obvious sex appeal, it'd mean no other male would ever snag your attention - yet here you are."

Oh, goodie. Bring on the stupidity. "You are so silly."

"It's because he's Irish I'm not put out - we have this covenant, this oath, like brothers. You don't mess with your bro's girls," he stated matter-of-factly. Yeah, right. Though the Irish covenant sounded like some kind of weirdo cult to her, now that she thought of it.

Swatting his arm playfully, she warned him, "stop." Graham just returned a light shove against her, and they kept returning light punches and tickles until Anton maneuvered in his place to look at them from the gap between the seats.

"Guys, we're about to take off. London, here we go, baby!," he exclaimed, way too excitedly for a guy who claimed to have a fear of travelling by plane. Emma wondered if he had already taken any pills and if it had had the effect he was looking for. Just as she was about to discuss it with Graham, one of the air hostesses showed up at their side unexpectedly, the clicking of her heels muffled by the carpeted floor of the plane.

"Excuse me, miss, but you need to turn off your phone before we take off."

Emma gasped, suddenly mortified that she had forgotten about it. Damn, the lack of sleep was turning out to be quite eventful in just the span of some hours. Reaching under her seat to grab her purse, she started fishing for it while she waved her other arm to the poor girl in reassurance. "Oh, right - just let me..."

She stopped herself when she saw she had a text. Too curious to wait who knew how many hours until they got to Newark before they transferred to their second flight to London, she opened it, glancing around her nervously just in case the hostess came back and told her off for not having followed her instructions yet.

It was Killian's.

Just a line. And a picture.

_Miss you already. _

And a picture of a freckle.

* * *

_**You impatient, little sweet buggers wouldn't even let me re read - but hey, if there are mistakes, I'll correct them tomorrow, so sorry in advance!**_

_**I really have no idea what else to say because hello this is such a mixture of random scenes - but I needed to share them. Because I love them. And they love me. And we all sing Kumbaya together in our Disney costumes. **_

_**Also - HAHAHA remember that time we were like totally canon in the season finale? okay, BRB, gonna go lay in my volcano of feels for a while. Sigh. Never getting over it. EVER.**_

_**Especial mention to my beta, Cee - and my dear friend Col, who got a little hint in this chapter ;)**_

_**Until next time, dearies!**_

_**PS: Clocks by Coldplay played during the writing of this chapter, of-fucking-course. Because hello Chris Martin and his piano. Apart from that, "Somewhere A Clock is Ticking" by Snow Patrol and "All the Same" by Sick Puppies helped too **_


	24. Chapter 24: Seen it All

_**Disclaimer: None of this characters are mine. No Killian Jones, no Emma Swan, no Nana. Nope. If they did, we'd all hang out and I'd probably spend my days staring at their prettiness and perfection. Sadly, they all are owned by Adam Horowitz and Edward Kitsis, along with OUAT. Bastards.**_

* * *

Killian was sprawled over the studio's couch, the nearby table cluttered with music sheets, a couple of pencils and empty mugs previously filled with coffee. He had been working on his own for hours on some of the songs for the next album after a long rehearsal with the band for their next performance. A couple of tunes, a meal of sushi and a harsh argument with Jefferson over the silliest thing later, they had decided to call it a day. It hadn't been bad, per se, but when they were all in a mood - it could get pretty intense.

A fun day, all in all. Especially with Red Lips visiting along with Henry and Nana.

That had been the peak of the evening.

His brain had felt like it was slowly becoming mush. The days were getting longer, the weather warmer, air slightly suffocating and causing sweat to gather on his forehead and blurry his vision at times, making him lose his focus over the lyrics he was so insistent on getting out.

It was the song.

It had to be perfect, dammit.

He had felt so frustrated when he had grudgingly admitted to himself that he was getting nothing done - after countless crossed out lines, corrections in between huffs and tired groans let out in the now silent room, - that he had caved to his escape, his only light who'd make it better, even if it was just for a trice. Just a moment. Just a minute.

And boy, was that golden hair light enough for him.

He cradled the laptop on his legs as he propped his head higher on the armrest of the couch so he could have a better view of the screen, trying not to smile at Emma's tired face in the window. As far as he could see, she was laying on her stomach on the bed in her hotel room, feet in the air crossing and uncrossing behind her head, hair in a messy ponytail and wearing a too big t-shirt - meaning, she was free of promo at the moment.

In fact, she was probably about to go to sleep, seeing it must be around 11PM over there, but she had been happy enough to answer his plea for a couple of minutes of facetiming. "How are you doing over there?," he asked her.

She leaned her head over her arms, a smile ghosting over her lips. "Fine. Stuffing myself with crêpes, baguettes and paella."

He fought the urge not to roll his eyes. Of course the first thing she'd talk about would be the food. He arched an eyebrow, half amused. "Cheating on your chocolate, I see. I am speechless."

She ignored his leering tone. "I am surprised too." Her face turned even pained, like she couldn't afford all the deliciousness that surrounded her since she had set foot on the old continent. "But - food!"

"You're so eloquent, Swan, please continue."

She laughed, not even bothering to call him out on his jab - probably because she couldn't, - and shook her head at him. Peering at him from underneath her eyelashes, she asked, "you want me to bring something back for you?"

What was with this woman and gifts? As if the rather unforgettable night after Coachella or the new tattoo weren't enough, she insisted on this too? Didn't she get that he felt... in debt? He wasn't so used to people being overly affectionate towards him - especially not concerning presents or little gifts and details. He had never been good with those - except in some cases, that is. But having someone being so preoccupied over things like these was fairly new for him, and even if he felt extremely grateful and warm and everything that one was supposed to be when they got such a thoughtful response from someone they care about, he couldn't help but feel like he owed her something. Like he was in debt.

He hoped the blue star he had gotten her was one of those rare occasions in which he had been spot-on in a gift.

He let out a sound between a grunt and a huff, a hand coming up to rub his temple tiredly. "Swan. I'm actually European, remember?"

She cocked a perfectly arched eyebrow at him, tapping her fingers on her chin. "You're Irish - not English, Spanish, Italian, French or German, if I recall correctly."

"I know, thank you for reminding me. But no, I don't need anything."

"I didn't ask if you needed anything, just if you wanted me to bring back something for you, that's all," she remarked, sending him an annoyed glance. Such a smart ass.

Closing his eyes tiredly, he decided to drop the subject. He hadn't called her so they'd get into one of their fight banters. He enjoyed the silly banter. The innuendo banter. The real feeling banter. And, in fact, he did quite like the fight ones - but just not today. "Just you will do. In one piece."

Her expression softened, and she tilted her head to the side, pursing her lips in amusement. "Aww."

"I know. I'm a sap," he admitted, sighing defeatedly.

"Yet I like it," she countered, her grin broadening. He smiled in response at her, and they both just stared at each other, thousands of miles between them yet a couple of inches between their reflections, equal expressions on their faces.

A smile traveling in milliseconds through half a planet, connecting both of them.

A loud knock on the door broke the spell, and they both turned their heads in surprise to each of their respective places - until he discovered it was on her side, as he was still alone. He saw her get up from the bed hurriedly as an accented voice called from the hall.

"Emma - you there?"

"Yep! What is it?"

He could hear the conversation - a door opening and the sound of footsteps, getting increasingly louder as they approached the bed once again. "My phone died and I lent my plug adapter to Anton but I can't find him anywhere - would you mind if I borrow yours?"

Emma's face was back for an instant, smiling reassuringly at him as the background shifted behind her when she passed the laptop to Humbert in a swift movement. "Not at all. One sec. Here, entertain your pal while I search for it."

The window now focused on the scruffy face of his mate. He grinned at him, tipping his fingers in his direction. "Hey Humbert."

Graham answered the mock salute with a grin of his own. "Hi there! Where are you?," he asked, frown burrowed as he squinted his eyes, trying to figure out his surroundings.

"Studio. Everybody left a while ago but I stayed working for a bit more."

Graham scoffed, blowing a strand of messy brown hair from his forehead. "Lame. Go home and enjoy your time alone - free of annoying girlfriend for a while."

A loud bang was heard in between the constant rummaging in the background that had started as soon as Emma had commenced sifting through her things. "I'm right here, you know."

Graham sent her an annoyed look. "I told him to go home ALONE, not to invite some bimbo to join him. Jeez."

"Don't give him ideas," she reprimanded, a warning in her tone.

Or so he hoped.

"Drama queen."

"Nerd."

Killian didn't know whether to feel bored or amused with the scene. Letting out a loud sigh, he clapped twice so he'd get their attention. "Children - stop it. If I were there, I'd smack both of you."

He spied blonde curls peeking in the corner of the window as she held out her hand to Graham, though her eyes were turned towards the screen - towards him. "I'd kick your ass if you even tried and you know it." She waved the charger in her hand impatiently so her costar would pick it up. "Here you go, Humbert. Now - shoo. I need to have online sexytimes with my man."

Taking it from her gingerly, he got up from his seat and stared at her, a dumbfounded expression on his face. "You wouldn't dare."

Oh. This would better be good.

She put her hands on her hips, a defiant look in her eyes. "Wouldn't I? Try me."

"Are you fucking serious? We share a wall! Eww." Oh God. Killian would have never pegged his friend as the 'ewww' kind of guy. He sounded so girly, for fuck's sake.

But he guessed that 'ewww' wasn't that weird of a reaction to listening your friend banging the wall you both shared.

Well, it wasn't as if he hadn't had his share of experiences listening more than he had ever wanted of his mates' sex escapades. Though, to be fair, instead of letting it embarrass or gross them out, they'd often... do something about it.

Like go over their door and record the sound. Just for the kicks.

Emma let out a laugh as she pushed Graham out of the door, kicking him with her foot as she did. "Byeeeeee."

She came back to where the laptop sat on the bed, giggling quietly, and he couldn't suppress his smile at her satisfied expression. "Nice."

She rolled her eyes, grin still wide on her lips. "But it's so fun to see him fret!" She waved a hand before her and resumed her earlier position, laying her head on her crossed arms. "He'll get over it. I'm sure he's seen worse."

"Yeah, I don't think you've scarred him... much," he commented haughtily.

Poor Humbert. He wouldn't want to be in his shoes now, wondering if his costar was indeed being naughty on the laptop with her boyfriend or not just a wall away.

"What is it with you men that are allowed to say such crass things anytime yet when we say the silliest thing approaching dirty you get all defensive?," she wondered aloud, her voice coming out muffled against the skin of her arms.

He sat up straighter, staring suggestively at the screen and dropping his voice - just to see her reaction. "Woah, wait - I am _really_ into you being all dirty talker. And you know it."

His smirk grew when he noticed the fluttering of her lashes and her sharp intake of breath. "Killian..."

"Emma...," he mimicked, voice barely above a whisper.

How he loved riling her up.

"I was kidding about the online sexytimes, you know," she warned, trying to appear stern. Ha. Like that'd work with him. Nice try, Swan.

"I was _not_," he countered back, wiggling his eyebrows. She openly laughed, hand over her mouth to muffle her giggles, and he wondered for the thousandth time about the power this girl held in her hands over him, how the possibility of making her smile and laugh would always give him such a rush, the sound like a tinkling bell echoing through the space parting them.

Hiding her face behind her arms once more, only her eyes visible behind the freckled skin, she murmured, "I miss you."

Why did his chest ache all of a sudden?

Oh, right. He was becoming a sap for this girl. Record speed, golden medal. Yep.

"I miss you too," he answered softly, mustering all of his emotion in those four words. He tried to add cheer to his voice then, clearing his throat quietly. "But hey - you're coming back home soon at least."

"I know. How did you do today?"

Um. Better leave out the row or she'd reprimand him. As much as he loved teasing her about being bossy and all momma-acting sometimes, he didn't enjoy being told off by her when it came to his antics with the guys. They knew better - they had been doing this for too long. They knew the drill. "It was fine. We had a bit of a commotion - Red Lips brought Henry; he also brought Nana along and of course she wasn't so used to all the noise. But we had fun nevertheless."

It had been quite epic. The poor dog had been too excited when it came to the drumroll and electric guitars and keyboards glissando, her barking and whimpering leaving them in hysterics at one point. They had joked about making her their new chorus girl.

He bet no one had done that yet.

"Just a typical Lost Boys day, huh?," she summarized, one eyebrow quirked upwards.

He nodded. "Pretty much. Then we took Nana for a walk - so she could meet Pongo."

He saw her let her forehead fall on her palms, a groan escaping her lips. "Oh God."

Killian fought his amused smirk. He didn't understand why she found the idea so awkward. It was just a healthy relationship between two dogs.

He never thought he'd be so concerned about a friendship between two canines but oh, well. His life had seen his fair amount of weird since of late, who was he kidding.

And both of the dogs in particular were adorably cute.

"But they're so cute together, you should see them!," he teased her, laughing at her as she kept her nose buried in her arms, hiding from him. "Stop being so silly."

Straightening up at last, she started picking at the duvet of the bed, not meeting his eyes through the screen. "You know, they asked me about her in one of the interviews."

Really? They didn't miss a beat, huh? "They did?"

She made an indifferent noise, scrunching up her nose. "Uh-huh. You can check it out tonight there, it'll be airing then online if you want to."

He. So. Was. Watching that. Now that he thought of it, he hadn't seen any interviews of hers - he hadn't gone on any Youtube hunting sprees for those to see how she handled herself in any kind of shows or something like that.

Yet.

"Oh, I will. Nice dress for the premiere by the way, Red Lips showed me the pics this morning," he added, making a point to lick his lips as he said that.

Fuck his life. It wasn't fair she had decided to wear _that_ when she was overseas and he could not tease her about her wearing something clearly meant for the bedroom and doing it for the cameras instead. Or tear it from her body as soon as they came back from whenever she had to pose or go or whatever. He had felt himself grow speechless - and hard, yeah, who was he kidding - when Red Lips had made him join her in front of the laptop to stare at Emma's lithe, luscious body, clad in some kind of lace bodice that didn't leave much to the imagination.

"Thank you. It wasn't like I felt naked or anything, you know, with so little cloth...," she said airily, trying to appear innocent as she tugged at one loose curl of hair framing her face.

A low growl escaped his lips, and he wished the heat of his stare could be sent along with the image on their screens. "Don't start."

She sent him a smug grin. Oh, he bet she felt proud of herself alright. He would make sure to make her pay as soon as she was back. "See? I love making cute boys fret."

He couldn't help his surprise, eyebrows flying up to his hair line. "Did you just call me cute?"

"A very cute idiot, yep," she said, tilting her chin up, daring him to defy her.

Oh God. She had called him cute.

Cute.

Not hot, or pretty, or sexy.

Cute.

He was so fucked.

He banged his head repeatedly on the couch, wincing slightly - though it was quite a soft blow. "Sap. Sap. Sap."

He heard her squealing and he winced, dreading the inevitable. "You're blushing!"

"I'm NOT," he growled back, glowering at her and ignoring her shit-eating grin. Ugh. Of course she'd be enjoying this. Of-fucking-course. He should could come back with some witty remark - still not sure about what, he wasn't even sure he wanted to make fun of her anymore. Oh God. See? He was a sap. He was an utter, stupid, foolish sap.

This girl had completely ruined him, hadn't she?

Her phone beeped, interrupting his spiraling thoughts - and impending trauma. He spied her palming the bed awkwardly to pick it up and furrow her brow as she read the new text. "Oh my GOD he's such an idiot." He was more than surprised to see her suddenly spin around in the bed, crawling on all fours to the other side where the pillow laid until she was right beside the wall and hit it with her fist. "YOU ARE SO STUPID."

...okay. What was she doing?

"What?"

She came back, huffing angrily, phone still fisted in her hand as she rolled her eyes. "Graham - he texted_ 'please tone it down, trying to sleep'_," she said, faking an Irish accent - quite good, now that he thought of it, and he wondered for a moment if she had even tried to do an impression of him yet, - and making air quotes with her fingers. She whipped her head to the wall's direction once more. "YOU DON'T WANT TO START THIS GAME WITH ME BUDDY."

Killian chuckled, shaking his head at her. "Woah. It looks like you're on a school trip staying overnight."

"You don't even want to know. He's been pranking me via phone for hours. Last night I asked him to bring me some skittles and he showed up with ONE just to spite me. Fucker," she explained, pouting. Aw, poor Swan. All she wanted was her sugar fix.

If he was there with her he'd sure give her more than the sugar fix, but oh well. He felt a sudden nostalgia for the never ending adventures and stories he and his bandmates had lived all those days on the road during tours - the joking, the pranks, the sleepless nights.

They were unforgettable.

And he couldn't help but imagine what it'd be like if they were to spend some kind of trip like that with her.

He sighed heavily, scenes still replaying in his mind. "God, I wish I was there for hotel shenanigans."

She leaned further on the bed, her face coming closer to the screen, a small smile playing on her lips. He grinned when he spotted the freckles on her nose - and he finally noticed what she was trying to do.

Rub her nose against the screen.

She was _just_ like a puppy.

"I know. I'd love it if you were here," she finally said, pouting lightly at him.

"Doing who knows what."

"In a bed," she added, a small smirk carefully ghosting over her mouth.

Nice. Though he could rise the stakes. As always.

"Or not. There are other places, darling." He had been more than thorough in showing her just how many places they could try to... foolproof. For sex. Of course.

"Don't you think I know that?," she breathed against the screen, her hot breath misting it and making her reflection blurry in his. He shivered against his will - God, this woman was going to be the death of him. Another loud beep came from her side, and she gritted her teeth, grumbling under her breath as she took her phone back once more. "OH MY GOD."

He chuckled, knowing exactly what was going on.

"Humbert?"

"WHAT IS IT WITH THESE WALLS? YOU ARE A CREEP!"

He kept laughing as she banged her fists against the wall, and he could swear he heard the amused laugh from his friend from his own hotel room, and for the first time in that day, he felt less alone. Even if they were halfway through the world.

* * *

"Our next guests are the fabulous lead characters in the upcoming movie "Broken" that has taken everybody's breath away - and our hearts along with them! It'll be opening in theaters next Friday, folks, so you'd better check it out! Now - please welcome the lovely Emma Swan and the hunk that is Graham Humbert, everybody!"

Killian smirked as he saw both of them enter the set, waving enthusiastically at the roaring audience, all smiles and blushes. Graham offered her his arm when they got to the step leading to the couch they'd be occupying during the interview facing the host, and his heart skipped a beat at her grateful smile, reaching for it and carefully stepping on her high heels.

Good, Swan. You didn't trip this time.

"How are you two doing?," the host inquired once they had accommodated themselves in their seats, a couple of wine glasses carefully placed in the low table sitting in front of them. Killian recalled fondly the last time he had been on that show in particular - he had really liked this guy. He hoped Emma had enjoyed it as much as he had when he had visited it.

The wine had had nothing to do with it, of course. Not at all.

He was just a funny guy.

"Fine, thank you - so happy to be here!," Emma gushed, teeth flashing in a radiant smile. The host - Robin - looked her over, sending her a questioning look.

"Are you really?"

Graham interrupted them then, patting Emma's knee reassuringly. He really had to talk with his pal about not-manhandling-her-woman etiquette. "She wanted to sleep but yeah, she's happy to be here."

Spot on, Humbert.

"I bet she did!," Robin laughed, amused, cocking his head in Emma's direction, hoping for her to confirm what her costar had just declared. She flushed, and stared at the ground for a moment, nipping at her bottom lip, like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

"It's just - I have a really intense relationship with my pillow, okay?"

Graham scoffed at her side, giving her a disbelieving glance. "That's just a piss poor excuse, Swan!" He paused, eyes widening, and turned towards the host once again, remorse written all over his face. "Wait - can I say piss poor or curse words on here?"

He waved a hand at him encouragingly. "Sure you can, of course, go ahead!"

Graham grinned like a kid then, his face brightening in an instant. "Oh, okay then. This is cool. PISS POOR."

Killian laughed along with the crowd, shaking his head. No wonder he got along so infamously with him - they kind of acted really alike at times. He saw Emma look at him, laughing in spite of herself. "Look at you, you rule-breaking puppy."

They went on to discuss the movie and some of the most challenging scenes they had encountered during filming, where both Emma and Graham shared some of the stories behind shooting and secrets about some of their other costars and adventures lived those months in Montreal. Killian studied how Emma went over the questions, joking comfortably with both Robin and Graham, and couldn't help but marvel at her ease and casual demeanor through it all. He felt rather proud of her, watching her put her hair behind her ear as she strained to hear what she was being asked and attempted to silence the non-stopping clapping audience.

She really was a star in the making, wasn't she?

"Okay. Now, after we discuss the movie, I'd like to have a really serious talk with you two...," Robin paused, staring mysteriously at the camera and making a face, and he could see Emma and Graham sharing a look behind him, "...addressing rumors. I'll read some of them to you and you have to admit if they're true or false."

Oh. God.

He really wouldn't trade his place with those two right now.

"I'm dreading this already," Graham declared, leaning back on the couch with a grimace. Emma nodded pensively, dropping her gaze to the floor.

"Same here."

"Oh no, don't be worried - it'll be fun!," Robin tried to console them, smiling encouragingly in their direction and waving one of his cards in front of him like a white flag. Yeah, _right_. "Here we go. Apparently... Graham cried when Emma punched him in the face during the shooting of the movie."

Oh, buddy.

Emma nearly leapt out of her seat in her haste to answer, meanwhile Graham rubbed his nose, flinching slightly at her boisterous voice. "TRUE!"

"I'm not embarrassed to admit that - she may be a klutz with the sword, but she packs one hell of a punch," he stated, sticking his thumb in her direction. "I wouldn't say 'cry' though - maybe a one lonely tear, let's not go crazy here!"

She bumped her shoulder with his playfully, still proud of herself. Of course she was. She had nearly knocked out a guy quite larger than her - a super star, nonetheless. She should be. "Dude, you got beaten by a girl. I rock."

"Shut up!"

Those two. Really. No wonder they had had fun shooting. Robin seemed to think the same, laughing at their interaction, and shushed them so he could keep going on with his questionnaire.

"Next one: Emma, they wrote that Brad - as in _BRAD PITT_ - asked for your number after meeting you at the premiere of your movie last month and texted you afterwards so you could discuss a possible project together in the future."

Woah, that was new. Killian sat closer to the screen, examining carefully Emma's sudden flush and confused expression. As much as he hated to admit it, Pitt could be quite the fierce competition if he suddenly found himself interested in Emma...

"_What?_ They wrote that?"

Robin reread under his breath the card, as if double-checking the facts, and finally nodded. "They did."

Oh God. Her face was priceless. He couldn't help but laugh at the complete and utter bewilderment on her face. "Sadly, it's not true. I don't think he even went to the premiere." She cocked her head to the side and pursed her lips, as if considering something really hard. "But let's say it is. TRUE."

He chuckled. Of course she'd do something like that. That was his Swan.

Robin let out a bark of laughter, his eyes glinting as he stared at her. "Then true it is! Oh, I love this girl." He shook his head as he changed cards once more and proceeded to read the next one. "Okay, let's get going - Graham: we've heard you supposedly declared you are willing to pose nude for a new fragrance you have on the making...?"

Whaaaaaat.

"What?!" Emma echoed his inner thoughts, nearly shrieking in the middle of the seat, along with the cat-calling audience. Graham had turned a deep shade of red, shifting uncomfortably in his seat and hiding his face behind his hands.

"How did you guys hear about that?" he pleaded, staring accusingly in the host's direction. The latter put up his hands in front of him, showing him the cards as if they held the answers of the Universe.

"Don't look at me - they give me these and I read them! Is it true then?"

Killian bit his bottom lip trying not to laugh. This was gold. He'd never stop giving him hell after this. He saw Graham groaning loudly, rubbing his face with his hand and letting out a chuckle.

"Aw, man... Not sure about the nude thing, but the fragrance is definitely happening."

Robin leaned forward ever so slightly, looking quite interested. "What was the inspiration for this?"

For his part, Graham shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, you know, they offered me some money."

Ah, classic Humbert. Nice.

"You cheeky bastard. And last but not least - Emma, it has been said that you adopted not long ago a dog with your current boyfriend, Killian Jones, from The Lost Boys - one of our favorite guys!" Robin turned his seat towards the camera, blowing a kiss to the screen, and Killian laughed loudly. "Killian, come back, we miss you!" He turned back towards Emma, cocking an eyebrow. "So. Care to confirm?"

Even being a world apart from her, he could feel her uneasiness at that exact moment, even if this was all pre-wrapped and it was now being aired. He could see the nearly-invisible tremble of her limbs, the shifting eyes. Albeit, she did a wonderful work at hiding it. She held her head up and addressed him, a small smile ghosting over her mouth. "Yes, it's true. It was his idea, not mine."

"Really? How did that happen?"

"Um..." Before she could answer, Graham's voice interrupted her.

"Oh, look at her!"

And there they were: in a screen beside the host's place, a picture of Nana running around could be seen. Killian froze in his place. When had those been taken? Were those the same they had been published the day they had adopted her? He squinted his eyes, trying to determine any out of the ordinary detail that would give him any clue as to the date or place where it could have been taken. Emma's excited voice brought him out of his musings, though, and to his utmost surprise he saw her nearly bouncing in her seat, like she were attempting to pet the dog through the screen.

"THERE SHE IS! Aw, she's my baby. My Nana."

Robin glanced at her with bewildered eyes. "Her name is _Nana_?"

"Yes." She looked like a proud mom alright. Great, Swan.

"I spy Killian's doing in there," he commented. He whirled around to stare back at the screen, now showing another picture - of both of them, his arm draped over her shoulder and hers circling his waist, walking down the street and Nana sniffing happily not far away with Pongo on her tow, Henry's silhouette clearly visible right by the dogs. "Oh, there you are. Such a lovely couple. I mean the dogs, of course." The audience's laugh echoed in Killian's ears as his hands fisted into curls, his anxiety increasing each passing second. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding - you two are just fabulous together. With any luck, next time you're back on here, he'll come along."

Emma snorted, giving him an innocent look and waving her hands. "Who knows, who knows. I'm sure he'd rather come with his friends."

"Get ready for those five giving you hell then," Graham warned him. Fucker. They knew how to behave themselves, okay?

Most of the time.

Robin shushed him, coming to their defense. "They already have, but hey - we love having them here. WE LOVE YOU LOST BOYS! COME BACK HOME!" Killian had to smile at that - he really would like to go back, if not just to hang out with Robin afterwards. He really was a cool guy. He had felt himself starting to relax once more, his breathing coming at a normal rate after the sudden dread that had threatened to consume him when he had realized that Henry was in those pictures and they could bring him up.

"And that over there is your son, isn't he?"

Fuck. Why had he thought they were out of the woods already?

Karma.

He held his breath, and he had the strangest urge to hold his hand against the screen when the camera span to Emma again, her face carefully neutral. For what - he didn't know. Showing her that she wasn't alone. That she had him. That he was with her, through and through. She smoothed her features and smiled softly as she stared at the screen once more. "Yeah, he is. My two babies."

"I bet he's thrilled about the dog!" Robin guessed, obviously amused. If only he knew. Emma, for her part, nodded, playing along, and he was more than surprised to notice how she seemed to deflate, her speech flowing easy and playful once more, as if she weren't discussing her son, her most precious 'secret', the thing she had cherished and promised not to let this crazy world of theirs taint one way or another.

"He is. He brings her along everywhere. He's in love with her."

Robin nodded, curious. "Had he asked for a pet before?"

"Oh, no - as I said, it was Killian's idea," she insisted. Great, Swan, throw me in there, of course, why not.

Robin looked delighted with this piece of information, wiggling his eyebrows teasingly at her. "He sure knows how to charm the family."

"You don't even want to know," she admitted, and he suppressed a smile, even if still felt slightly freaked out after that whole out-of-the-blue coming-out-of-the-closet scene. Gosh, he couldn't believe that had happened. He'd have to call her right away to check up on her - she sure as hell must be freaking out.

Wait - but she had said they had taped that already so it'd be now airing in the evening, right...? So she had known when they had talked earlier?

He brought back his attention to Robin's voice, who was gushing about - what appeared to Killian... - his group of friends? "I'm sure most of the audience would pay to spend a day with the lot of you - you all seem to be really close. It's amazing to see such a great group of friends from such different backgrounds come together." He paused and signaled to the screen once more, finally free of their photograph and now showing another one of the whole gang the day of his birthday. "Oh, here you are in Coachella!"

Emma's groan could be heard throughout his whole place, he could swear on it. She hid behind her hand, just the tiniest glint of green peeking between her fingers. "Oh God - where did you get those pictures?"

"But they were online!" Robin protested innocently.

"Oh my God, just - ugh. Why do you want to embarrass me this way?" she moaned, still not showing her face and even leaning against the back of the couch, - he knew she'd be trying to find some kind of comfort in the soft fabric, rubbing her palms against it. She was weird like that.

"But look what a lovely bunch you all make! Are those your friends?"

Letting her hand fall from her head at last, she sighed heavily and acknowledged the dreaded picture - which, in his opinion, wasn't _that_ bad, but hey, this was Swan they were talking about. And pictures were a _huge_ deal for her, or so they said. She started pointing at each one of them, explaining at the audience, "yeah, that's my best friend Ruby and that's Aurora - Philip's girlfriend. Those five are some lame guys who are supposed to sing something over the radio all the time - and that one over there is a moron. Some Graham guy, I think. Such an idiot."

Graham flashed her a smug grin, tilting his head to the side. "Don't let me get started on the blonde chick or I'll bore you to tears." They both stared at each other for a minute, trying to maintain their composure until they both started cracking up, Emma lying her head on his shoulder, still giggling. Robin laughed along with them.

"See? This is what I'm talking about. You all seem to click. It's so great."

His friend shrugged, looking at Emma pointedly, as if asking her for reinforcements in case he were mistaken. "What can I say. I'm sure if someone were to actually meet us they'd discover we're actually really silly and ridiculous when we're all together."

"Speak for yourself Humbert," she snorted, crossing her legs and hugging her knees with her hands, feigning ignorance just as the words left her mouth. The crowd started an ominous "ohhh" at them, and Robin waved his card-filled hand in front of him theatrically, asking for silence.

"We'll see you after the break - hopefully with these two alive if they don't kill each other?"

Killian sat there for a minute, still trying to come to terms with what he had just seen.

Not just Emma being her Emma-self handling herself like a pro in the dangerous sea that was promo and questions fired and embarrassment thrown at her at the first opportunity - though he guessed she'd had way worse and Robin's show could be considered one of the friendliest and warmest she'd ever visit in her trip, if his experience in there could tell him anything.

Not just that.

She had opened up, the tiniest bit, about Henry in a public statement.

He needed to talk to her.

He wasn't sure what time it was in there now - hell, it had to be morning or something, and she had to be up to get ready for more interviews and so, wouldn't she? Should he call? Screw it, he'd text her and when she answered, he'd call.

**_Are you up?_**

_Yeah. Why?_

**_Can you talk?_**

_Um yeah, gimme a minute._

Pacing nervously around his bedroom and tugging at the hair at the nape of his neck, he brought his phone to his ear, counting off in his head the beeps until she picked up.

It only took her four. "Hey."

"Hi," he answered, praying for his voice to come out neutral. Though he guessed she'd probably be wondering what the hell was his problem calling her at this hour, all of a sudden.

"What's wrong?" There she was. He braced himself, his fingers playing with one of the paper sheets laying around on his desk, reading over them and realizing they were some of the lines he'd tried to scribble down for the song he had been working on and hadn't been able to finish yet.

Shaking his head, he sighed heavily. "I just wanted to know if you were okay?"

Her voice sounded hesitant. "Um, sure, why?"

"I just watched that interview you told me about? The one for Robin's show?" His fingers gripped the sheet, nearly crumbling it in his fist in a ball. It wasn't like it was worth a damn, but whatever.

"Oh, you did? How was it?" Why the hell did she sound _excited_, of all the things she could be after that? Killian was starting to become restless, his pacing becoming nearly frantic.

"...you're not freaked out?"

He could just picture her furrowing her brow at him in confusion, worry now lacing her voice. "Why? Are _you_ okay?"

Was she going to make him say it?

Yep, she was, apparently. Fuck.

He stopped in his tracks, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose and bracing himself for the inevitable. "Emma. They asked about Henry."

There was a pregnant pause over the line, the slight echo of his words resounding over and over as he waited on baited breath for her to respond. He finally exhaled when her answer came at last on the other side. "...oh. Oh. That's why you're calling?"

No, Swan, I just love to call people to chat them up at this hour in the morning. Sure. It seemed like the best thing to do.

Killian, please stop with the inner sarcastic bitchy monologue, now, would you.

"Yeah. I was worried about you," he finally revealed, a clear strain in his voice.

He heard a quiet rustling in the background, and he guessed she had plopped down - either on the bed or on some kind of seat. "Not gonna lie: I was... kind of freaked out when it happened, but then I realized - it was bound to happen anyway, one way or another. Sooner or later. You know?"

He tried not to flinch at the sudden strain now nearly palpable in her voice, and he willed himself to speak up once more adamantly. "Yeah, but remember how when they published those pics you blamed me?"

"Killian..."

He interrupted her before she could go on. "Emma, this is huge. I just..."

"I know. And I'm sorry the way I overreacted that day, I had no excuse to flip like that and go all crazy - least to you, of all people. We've talked about this."

They had, indeed. After that first night - right after that intense row about those pictures, - she had in fact asked for forgiveness, explaining how sorry she was for having blamed that whole thing on him when it hadn't been at all his fault, and how her worry over Henry had overruled her clear judgement in the matter, making her lose her focus and look for someone else to blame instead of working on solving the problem at hand. He had accepted her apologies graciously - though her venomous words still rang in his ears, not so easy to forget when someone poked your inner demons, waking them up.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he intervened again, reassuring her. "I know, I'm not trying to stir shit up - I was just making sure you weren't going to get all freaked out again."

The voice that responded him didn't quite sound like Emma Swan's, the woman he had fought so many times. The woman who had thrown a glass of champagne straight to his face. The woman who had flown to her favorite song surrounded by gleaming lights in the night. The woman who would pose and smile for her fans but wouldn't doubt when it came to punching someone threatening her family or her friends.

The voice that responded him belonged to Emma Swan, the lost girl. And his heart broke for her once more.

"I'm not. I feel actually kind of relieved. Like I'm... lighter. I don't know."

"You do?," he inquired, his own voice catching in his throat.

"Yeah. I guess it's like lying and, in one corner of your mind, you just know you'll get caught - you cover all of your tracks all of the time knowing that everything can come crashing down around you in an instant without you even realizing it. But... the crazy thing is that, as scared as I was, I was not surprised. All I could think about was _'it's about time'_. Isn't it crazy? Why would I think that?"

He laid on his bed, hoping to mirror her position wherever she was at the moment, attempting to soothe her by the most stupid way he could come up with, even if she wasn't even aware of it, and wishing with all his might he could wrap his arms around her right then. "...maybe because you knew it had to happen?"

He heard her sigh and there was a slight catch on the line, like she was brushing her hair against the receiver. He bet his arm she was tugging at it. "Yeah... The only reason I can come up with is that maybe I know this is the right time to come clear. Maybe not 'come clear', it's not like I haven't denied I had a son in the first place or anything. But, you know," she finished awkwardly, like she wasn't sure she was making any sense, or if he understood what she was saying.

But he did. Of course he did. One thing he had been most surprised about after he had met her all those months ago was how he could read her - and vice versa. And he was now confirming how he didn't need to see her face, to study her mannerisms, her gestures, the little ticks that he so adored to point out to her to tease her to know what she was thinking.

"That you can freely acknowledge at least he exists?"

"Yeah," she breathed. They both stayed quiet for a while - not an awkward silence. Not at all. Killian had found himself relishing some of those peaceful moments in which you can spend with someone and these silent moments don't make you shuffle on your feet and wonder to yourself if you should break it or not, and everything turns horribly violent. Not with Emma. Finding people to share comfortable silences with was something he had always considered as a sign of trust. Of understanding.

And finding it in Emma had been like coming home.

He heard her throaty whisper on the other line call him. "You still there?"

Killian worried his bottom lip, nearly drawing blood, and closed his eyes tightly. She sounded worried. Worried for him, when it should be him worrying for her. Silly Swan. "I'm just so relieved you're okay. I know it is not easy for you to let all of this affect you or him. But I don't want you to worry - they'll probably leave him alone, maybe ask here or there but they mostly leave children alone. If they do stir trouble, we'll give them hell, I promise."

There was a sharp intake of breath, and something gnawed in his gut. "Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me. I would never let anything harm him, or you. You know that right?"

"I do," she reassured him, and his shoulders sagged in relief. She sounded tentative when she next spoke up, and he had to strain his ears to actually hear her. "You know, maybe it feels right to let it all out now because of something. Or someone."

His lips twitched against his will, and he let his eyes fall closed when her words registered in his somewhat hazy brain.

She was talking about him.

She was admitting how the fact that, since they had gotten a step further in their newly discovered relationship, she was willing to open up - even about the person that she had been most troubled about since she had started her acting career. Those walls of hers had been crumbling down for a while now - for him, at least, but this... this was another thing entirely.

Breathing in deeply, he decided it was time to drop the serious tone of the conversation. It was all cleared up now. They'd face whatever they encountered from now on together, as a team, as they had promised one another. Like Batman and Robin, he thought to himself with a grin.

He added a teasing tilt to his voice, hoping she'd take the hint. "Oh, is that so?"

"I said maybe," she reminded him, and he was more than relieved to hear her Emma Swan's voice. Strong, brave, stubborn-as-hell Emma Swan. Beautiful Emma Swan.

His Emma.

Her words triggered something inside his brain, and before he could even realize what he was doing, he was singing. "_...you're gonna be the one that saves me..._"

Yep. He was one of those people that, when listening to a random line that also happens to be the lyrics of a song, bursts into said song in a heartbeat.

Not that he was ashamed of it. At all.

"Are you singing me _Wonderwall_ right now?" she asked, her twinkling laugh echoing through the line.

"_and after all... you're my wonderwall..._"

"Cheesy," she accused him.

Ouch, Swan.

"I thought all girls loved _Wonderwall_."

He could almost hear her pursing her lips. God, how he wished he could kiss them now. Just to shut her up, of course. "We do," she carefully admitted.

"_I've said maybe..._" He kept on singing, hoping she would join him at some point, but of course, stubborn lass as she was, she wouldn't budge.

Unless he begged, of course. "Oh, come on, Swan, enchant me a bit with that voice of yours."

He had to admit he was dying to hear her singing once again, after that impromptu performance at the costume party the previous week with Henry. He had sat beside them, not able to keep his eyes off her as she kept her son close to her chest, the soft lyrics escaping her lips flowingly, not missing a note, the song clearly branded in her heart and very soul.

And, like a lost sailor, he would have gladly let that siren drag him down her oceans, her song haunting him since then.

His grin broadened when the echo in the line brought along quiet notes muttered in a somewhat embarrassed voice. "_you're gonna be the one that saves me..._"

"I spy a duet in the future," he breathed when they were done, the last notes haunting in the cracked line of the phone. She snorted, and he recalled how she had once told him how she always thought it was so unladylike of her to do so. Which he found stupid and hilarious, but oh well. Swan.

Who knew, really.

"Keep dreaming buddy."

He let the phone rest right beside his ear, his arms behind his head. "Only if it's about you. Singing with me."

"Cheesy."

Ouch, Swan. Again.

"Shhh, stop calling me names, you're ruining the mood. I'm just singing you to sleep, dear." Well. To sleep, or to wake her up. This whole time difference thing was such a pain the ass, really. Who made up that shit anyway?

"I thought you said this was a duet?," she asked, a teasing tilt in her tone. He rolled his eyes and faked cheer in her admitting the possible duet.

"She said it! She said it! Finally!"

"You're such an idiot," she laughed, and they both relished in the small silence that fell over them for a couple of seconds. One of those they could share, no questions asked.

Of course, broken by a sudden beep.

Her grumbles under her breath made him chuckle loudly. Oh, when she was in a mood she was fun alright. "Who the hell is texting me right now..." He heard her pause for a tick, and her huff was so sudden he almost jumped from the bed, he was so startled. "_I expect some ear plugs from you_. Oh. My. God. I'm killing him."

Laughing again, he put a hand over his mouth to try to muffle his guffaws. Oh, Humbert. What an ass. "Put the phone right against the wall," he told her. He wasn't sure she had granted his wish, but as she hadn't said anything, he guessed she had. "Good morning, Humbert!," he called loudly, not really expecting him to answer - just in case, just to, you know, be polite, - but the sudden echoing laughter and amused voice of Emma repeating his words through her wall made it all the better anyway.

* * *

"Come on Killian, I want to hear it!"

"It's not ready yet," he repeated for what felt like the hundredth time that day. God, was it so difficult to grasp such a simple concept? Not. Ready. Not. Done. Not. Finished. More. Time. Needed.

Gah.

August lifted his eyebrows, confusion etching his face. "I thought you said you had finished it."

Ugh. Why had he had to tell him anything? In fact he _had_ finished writing it, right after his conversation with Emma (and Graham via-wall, of course, he recalled with a smile); he didn't know how, he had found it.

How, or why, he was not sure. He had just felt that sudden rush, his fingers nearly prickling until they gripped the pen in them, trembling in their haste to write the lines and words then pouring from his brain like flowing water, non stopping in their course and nearly draining the energy out of him when he was finally done, a dirty, full of scratches and ink stains sheet holding the song he had so carefully been planning since the day he had realized he needed to write about the blonde actress whose fate had been so strangely interwoven with his a random night after a fated first encounter.

But he just... wasn't ready to share it. Not yet.

"I..."

"He has finished it. He just doesn't want to show it to us yet," Victor piped in from his seat beside Ruby, his hand tickling leisurely the brunette's outstretched bare arm.

He really didn't understand people who asked others to tickle them. On purpose. It was boring and annoying.

He felt himself stiffen, and he narrowed his eyes towards the couple, suspicion clouding his voice. "How do you know?"

The bassist shrugged, as if he didn't have a care in the world. Fucker. "Ruby saw the music sheet and the lyrics."

Wait. What.

"WHAT?" he roared, now clearly enraged. He sent her a withering glance - he was stupidly protective of his music. She had been at his place the other day when they had agreed to see each other there so she could meet him and Henry to take him to her place, where he'd be staying - he had been at Killian's for the evening, playing a bit the guitar together as they had picked up those classes Emma had so elegantly neglected to continue (though he was more than set on teaching her, even if she wanted or not).

Had she been snooping around his things? He'd slap those pretty red lips of hers if she indeed had, best friend of Emma or not.

She bit her lip, a sorrowful look stealing her features, and her shoulders dropped. Her voice came out rather high-pitched in her haste to explain herself. "I'm sorry - they were laying around in your apartment when I went to pick up Henry. I was curious."

"That doesn't mean it's finished," he argued, crossing his arms in front of him and hoping to look at least a bit threatening.

Seriously, if they didn't respect his things, no one ever would. He had to teach these idiots a lesson or two.

She shrugged, the slight fear for him for sticking her nose through his things that had seemed to cloud her thoughts earlier apparently abandoning her. "I have no idea, I'm no musician - but as far as I know, it looked pretty good."

Was she trying to buy him with compliments? Was she? Good luck with that, Red Lips - kissing Killian Jones' ass won't lead you anywhere, let me tell you. Nope.

Though it was always kind of nice to hear praise over your hard work. Especially that piece in particular, which had seemed to need blood, tears, sweat and his very soul to pour in exchange for it to be born.

Shaking his head, his eyes swept the room, glancing over all of his bandmates and his girl's best friend with hooded eyes. "You're such a gossip bunch, I can't believe I actually hang out with the likes of you."

And, of course, they all answered in a synchronized chorus, just like they always did. "Ohhhhhhhh."

"You hurt us, man," Jefferson laughed, a hand covering his heart - or where it was supposed to be, he thought bitterly to himself, flipping him the bird.

"Idiots."

Victor threw his hands in the air, forgetting his girlfriend's please-tickle-my-arm for the moment to mock him. How nice of him. "Jeez, bring Swan back pronto so she can help him quit that stress."

Red Lips' head whipped up so fast, it was almost a blur for him. She bounced on her seat, clapping her hands excitedly. "It's Emma-and-Killian-kissing-under-a-tree time? Yay! My favorite part of the day!"

Oh, yes. Because they had those now.

Since that day in Coachella, when he had filled in his mates about whatever he and Emma had started the night prior, - and he had been completely dumbfounded when he had been witness of them exchanging back and forth a couple of bills, as they had all bet they would bang eventually, though they hadn't agreed on the date and that's where the bet came in, - they had all started this stupid, childish and completely out-of-line routine of teasing him about his swanning time.

Yeah. _Swanning_ time.

Could they be anymore stupid? He really didn't think so.

"Why is it funny again?," he managed to ask - though he wasn't sure if he wanted to know, in fact. It wasn't like it would end the mocking around anytime soon.

Philip raised his eyebrows, cocking his head to the side and counting on his fingers as he explained. "Because you hated each other since the moment you met - adding champagne into the mixture, mind you - and now you two can't keep your hands off the other? Maybe?"

Killian didn't even have time to come up with a response, as Red Lips let out a sound between a whimper and a groan and leaned dramatically on Victor's lap, bringing her hand to her face in the fakest drama-queen pose he had ever seen in his life. Though he had to admit it was kind of amusing. "I am still emotional about it. It is so romantic. Bless you two idiots for bringing joy to my life."

They all exchanged confused looks between them. What? Sometimes Killian wondered if girls saw things completely from another angle they did. He would never had called his... thing with Emma '_romantic_'. It was August who finally cleared his throat and acknowledged her, voicing all of their question. "Romantic?"

She lifted her hand from her face, staring up at them and realizing that they were all waiting for her to explain herself. She made a motion with her hand, like she didn't understand how they could not get such a simple concept. Yeah, Red Lips, guess what: not all of us are privy of the inner working of female's psyche, you know, some tips would be much appreciated by the way. "Ugh. It's like reading a good book - the slow burn, the flirting, the heated stares - the angry sex..."

"How..."

Cue to the idiots chorusing. Again. "OHHHHHHH."

"YOU ARE ALL LIKE CHILDREN," he chastised them, agitated. God, he could feel his face flushing.

He was _blushing_. He hadn't since he was a teenager, for fuck's sake.

His mates laughed heartily, pointing at him in between guffaws and whistles. "And you're _not_?" "I spy BULLSHIT there!"

He refused to even try to defend himself or deal with them - not when they were in this mood. They were worse than children.

And he knew because he was exactly the same.

He turned to Red Lips once more, pinning her with a glare. "Why do you girls always tell each other everything? It's annoying."

Her mouth parted in an outraged gasp, hazel eyes widening at him. "That's not true."

He didn't even have to ask for it - they all echoed his words without missing beat. "It is."

"Didn't you tell all of these morons right after it happened?," she countered back, crossing her hands over her chest and staring him down defiantly.

Hah. Like that'd help.

"No. I just told them we had... developed further our relationship so they wouldn't be surprised if they saw Swan and I acting... friendlier, so to speak."

Victor snorted loudly, flashing him a crooked smile. "And by friendlier he means sticking his tongue down her throat every freaking minute."

Red Lips didn't seem amused at all. She turned her eyes from Killian to Victor, as if trying to tell if they were actually lying or not. She let out a huff at last, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. "Yeah, right."

"Actually, it's true. Killian doesn't kiss and tell. It's really upsetting, let me tell you. I haven't begged so much for details in my entire life," Philip offered, sitting beside her after propping his guitar beside the couch and sending him a wink. Killian chuckled - they had all in fact asked for details, and he, as the gentleman he was, had declined to share them.

He'd rather have those for himself, thank you very much.

Poor Red Lips pouted like a five-year-old who had been denied dessert. Or Emma after realizing there was no more chocolate. She buried her face in Victor's lap, her voice carrying longing and annoyance. "I feel so alone right now. It's not fair being the only girl here."

Killian's lips twitched. She sounded so much like Emma, the sudden wish to hear her saying those same words about her friend as she laid on his lap and she played with her hair and he tickled her or some similar scene made his pulse pick up in pace in longing.

_Sap_.

"Ask for reinforcements," Jefferson suggested her nonchalantly. They all went on with whatever they were doing - nothing productive, of course, but whatever, - and he nearly missed her jumping off Victor's lap and running for her purse, a rather crazed smile stealing those red painted lips of hers. She flashed him a grin, waggling her eyebrows in his direction as she fished her phone from the depths of one of the pockets.

"Oh. I think I will."

_Extract from twitter conversations between the accounts owned by Ruby Lucas, Emma Swan, Killian Jones, Victor Whale, August W. Booth, Graham Humbert and Philip Prince._

** HoodedRuby: ESwan** You don't even wanna know how bad I miss you rn. TLB giving me hell. You suck. Come back.

** Jones_LostBoy: HoodedRuby ESwan** She's lying. But yeah - come back.

** ESwan: HoodedRuby Jones_LostBoy** what are you guys doing? You're scaring me.

** ESwan: HoodedRuby** awww. I miss you girls too!

** Jones_LostBoy: ESwan** I miss the girls more. The girls. The girls, Swan.

** PhilipTLB**: Aaaand the twitter battle is on, guys. Feel free to join.

** AWBooth:** Girls like ** HoodedRuby** and ** ESwan** shouldn't be allowed to mingle together - they ruin TLB vibe. The proof: ** n1odwz4mn**

_[Picture: showing Ruby trying to apply guyliner to Killian and Victor, both sitting on the couch looking beyond horrified.]_

** ESwan: Jones_LostBoy** CAN YOU NOT.

** Victor_LostBoy: ESwan** I understood that reference, by the way. Nice, ** Jones_LostBoy**

** RealGrahamHumbert: Jones_LostBoy Victor_LostBoy** I can't believe you didn't wait for me to get all pretty. Traitors :(

** Victor_LostBoy: RealGrahamHumbert Jones_LostBoy** dude, you don't want to be here, I swear. ** HoodedRuby** is scary when it comes to make up.

** ESwan: Victor_LostBoy RealGrahamHumbert Jones_LostBoy HoodedRuby **Been there, done that. **#sorrynotsorry #ineedmorepictures**

** RealGrahamHumber**: Guess what - we got our own party going on! Look at ** ESwan **all dolled up for our upcoming evening! ** l4osay7rh**

_[Picture: showing Emma in her PJs sitting on the bed and wearing a fake mustache.]_

** Jones_LostBoy: RealGrahamHumbert ESwan** I appreciate the effort to scare the competition away during my absence via facial hair, Humbert *overseas high five*

** AWBooth**: Ten bucks say ** Victor_LostBoy** and ** Jones_LostBoy** are back on the market if this keeps going on.

** AWBooth:** And by 'this' I mean pissing off their girls.** #keyboardistwisdom #justsaying**

** PhilipTLB**: ** AWBoo**t**h **I see them.

** HoodedRuby: ESwan** see what I have to deal with? Please come home. Please please please please please.

** Jones_LostBoy: HoodedRuby ESwan** if you don't add puppy eyes this won't work. And I'm the only one allowed to beg here.

** ESwan: HoodedRuby** Don't worry, I'll be back in no time and you won't have to put up with the idiots on your own. Miss ya.

** Victor_LostBoy:** GUYS. SHE CALLED US IDIOTS. ** Jones_LostBoy PhilipTLB AWBooth ESwan RealGrahamHumbert**

** PhilipTLB:** SHE SHALL BE BANISHED.** Jones_LostBoy Victor_LostBoy AWBooth ESwan RealGrahamHumbert**

** RealGrahamHumbert:** SHE DOESN'T EVEN GO HERE ** ESwan Jones_LostBoy Victor_LostBoy AWBooth PhilipTLB**

** PhilipTLB:** in case anyone is interested, we don't mention ** Jefferson_LostBoys **because he's a loser and doesn't believe in Twitter.

** AWBooth: PhilipTLB Jefferson_LostBoys** HE'S A TWITTER DENIER.

A cool voice interrupted the ongoing yells and laughs ringing loudly in the studio as they all typed furiously over their phones, not daring to let the others see what they were feeding the app. "Jones?"

They all jumped, turning to find Gold standing on the doorway, hand gripping his cane and fixing them with a look Killian wasn't quite sure how to define. A mix between why-are-you-lot-not-working-you-are-supposed-to-be -doing-something-apart-from-lazing-around-you-fuck ers and hey-they-need-a-rest-I-suppose-but-hey-guess-what- get-back-to-work-you-fuckers.

All in all, he didn't look too amused at the moment.

He gulped loudly, getting up from the couch, where he had been sitting with Red Lips trying to steal her phone so he could troll her account for a while - to no avail. The girl had been played too many times apparently, and kept an iron grip over the device, leaving him no choice but trying to tickle her in order to get it.

Hey, it worked with her friend, who said it wouldn't work with her too?

"Yes?"

Gold's eyes briefly scanned their surroundings. Looking for what, he didn't know. "Are you... quite busy right now?"

Jefferson chuckled from his place in the table, an amused glint in his eyes. "Gold. Do we look like we're busy right now? Victor is wearing make up!"

"I AM NOT."

They all cracked up again at Victor's flushing face - HA! He wasn't the only one! - the laughter only intensifying when Ruby went over to him and pet his cheek lovingly. "But you look so pretty - it enhances your eyes! Killian, you should totally try it!"

_Hell. No._

Sending her a withering glance, he waved a hand in her direction, shushing her. "Yeah... I think I'm gonna pass."

She put her hands over her hips, pursing her lips in defiance. "I'll tell Emma to ask you and she'll make you, just you wait."

He rolled his eyes at her. Yeah, right. If Swan even dared to approach him armed with any kind of make up, he'd make her pay. "We'll see about that - don't be too sure."

"Jones - now?" Gold interrupted them once more, and he flinched - he had forgotten he was even there. Why the hell did he want to talk to him? Had something happened that he wasn't aware of? Had there been anything new on the press, or whatever? He raked his brain for something that might have started any kind of trouble, but he came up with nothing.

He had been a good boy, for once.

Where was his golden star?

Maybe Gold would give it to him.

Ha. He was funny alright. No wonder now that Emma let herself open up to him she kept cracking up whenever he spouted some of these gems around her.

Wiping his hands on his jeans and shrugging offhandedly, he made to follow him out of the room. "Sure."

They trudged along the hall to one of the little empty offices where Belle usually worked when she was there for research for her articles and making calls to clients and whatnot, and he propped himself on the wooden desk, tracing the cracks and lines on the surface idly with his fingers. He lifted his eyes to lock them with the piercing glare of his manager, who was studying him carefully, his head tilted to the side. "What's this about? Something wrong?"

"No. It's just - with the dates for the next performances, those awards you have to attend and the album, we haven't been discussing anything about the contract lately," the manager stated, his features smoothed into a mask of calm indifference.

Okay. Now he was really curious as to where they were getting. "What about it?"

He was more than surprised to see him... shuffling on his feet. That had to be a first. He wasn't used to seeing Gold anything other than his sure, controlling and predator self. "It's obvious you have... started something with Miss Swan."

Killian felt himself stiffen. Oh.

"...yeah."

Gold whipped his head towards him fast, gripping the cane forcefully as his other ringed hand came up in front of him, worry etched on his face. "Don't assume I'm judging here - not at all. In fact, I had an inkling, a kind of hunch about you two connecting. Right from the start, in that first meeting."

Killian tilted his chin up, carefully hiding a smirk. What was with his mates and now his manager thinking that Emma and him had been so 'meant to be', making bets to see when they would finally get together - and this? Right from the start?

Of course. Sure. Uh-huh. Keep going, mister, I am giving you my undivided attention - you and your bullshit.

"Sure. Now you're a seer. Why sign a contract then?," he inquired, cocking an eyebrow knowingly.

Gold didn't even seem to mind his mocking tone, going on as if he hadn't talked. "Oh, what other way to make you two realize you were both good for each other? No, you stubborn kids needed something to clash together. But that's not the point - it's not like I'm a matchmaker instead of a music manager."

Wait - then what the hell were they doing there? Killian was getting really tired of all of these talks behind closed doors and the secrecy and _ugh_. "What is then? I thought you were going to reprimand me or something. I know this wasn't stipulated in the contract," he added as an afterthought.

Gold stared at him for a moment, a nearly sympathetic expression stealing his features - like he didn't know if he should pat his shoulder comfortably or call him names for being such an idiot. He wasn't sure what he'd choose if given the chance to pick.

"Wasn't it? It never said anything about falling for your fake partner. I talked about feelings which may develop between each other - if not romantic, then maybe friendly or familiar. But this, in fact, changes nothing." He paused, tapping his fingers over the golden piece at the end of the cane, the rhythm nearly hypnotic. "For now."

"What do you mean?," he asked, confused.

Gold sighed heavily, leaning against the side of the desk he was propped up against. "Just a warning - in case something would happen between you and Miss Swan, any kind of problem which couldn't be solved at some point, then the whole contract would go down with it, as I'm sure you can guess, right?"

Killian pondered this for a moment. If this thing between him and Emma didn't work out, if they somehow ended up hurting each other - God forbid it - it would make sense if they broke the deal. No more posing around, no more joining them for premieres or them for their concerts. They wouldn't need it anyway at that point, right? They had had enough publicity as it was for now, and even if they were still under the contract, he didn't want to think about it. He just wanted to live with what they had for now. If one day they decided to just - get out of it, then so be it. But they'd still be together.

He was sure of it.

But he kind of understood his manager's worry - or, rather, warning.

"Yeah, I guess it would be too devastating to pose as a couple if we were miserable after a breakup," he mused aloud, just so Gold would get that he had read between the lines. The manager seized him slowly, his eyes softening for a moment after doing so.

"Exactly."

He was about to assure him he shouldn't have to worry about any of it, just because what he and Emma had wouldn't put in jeopardy the contract - not for the time being at least, he definitely was no seer and he could not know what would the future bring, - but for now, he was sure of something.

They were happy.

As he was opening his mouth to tell him just that, a low voice called out from the end of the hall, startling them and making them exchange a confused look. "Hello? Anybody there?"

Gold furrowed his brow, getting on his feet, cane in hand and putting his other hand on the wall, turning to mouth at him if he had been expecting someone. Killian shook his head in response, shrugging lightly. They had been rehearsing just the five of them, not even Grace or Belle had been coming along today - just Red Lips, bringing lunch for them so she could hang out with Victor for a while.

They exited the room to find a rather tall guy, worriedly scratching the back of his head, as if he didn't know what to do. Gold approached him, and the man finally realized he was not alone, sighing, relieved when he saw them. Killian noticed he had a box under his arm, and he guessed he was some kind of deliveryman or something. "Hi, I'm Greg, from the store - some... Belle French asked me to bring these here for you?"

Gold raised his brows, appearing surprised, but quickly recovered, nodding to himself and taking in his hand the pen he was being offered. "Oh, she must have forgotten to mention that."

Seeing as he had nothing more to do there, Killian whirled on his feet, calling over his shoulder as he made his way back to the studio, where he could hear his friends' loud chatter. "I'll get back to work with the guys."

"Sure. Work," his manager scoffed, rolling his eyes.

_Ouch_. He tried to appear offended. "Hey! I'm the one making them work, I swear."

"Whatever you say, Jones. I expect that secret song of yours soon - you cannot hide it forever."

Why the hell did Gold of all people know about that too? He was going to kill these guys - they couldn't fucking keep anything to themselves, dammit. They were turning into such a bunch of gossips, for God's sake. Just as he was about to set foot in the studio, he heard Jefferson shouting over at him. "Killian, come on, run!"

"What for?," he asked, words leaving his mouth right before the sight in front of him answered his question. They were all sitting on the couch, a mess of limbs and smiles and awkward poses in front of Ruby's extended arm holding her phone, the camera facing the ridiculous scene.

"Group picture for Emma and Graham!," Victor explained, as if he needed a tip. Killian shook his head, a smile tugging the corner of his lips... and leapt right over them, throwing himself over Philip seconds before the flash went off. "Cheese!" August laughed, trying to muffle a groan as Jefferson elbowed him. They fell from the couch like domino's pieces, one after the other, in between shouts of 'get the fuck off me!' and 'you should definitely cut off the bacon, dude', and they all laid there for a moment until Ruby brought up the screen and showed them the final shot.

"I look like a creep."

"You _are_ a creep."

"Shut up."

"I look handsome as ever."

"Not my bad profile again..." Killian groaned, hiding his face with his arm. Laughter subsided and a quiet silence engulfed the room, as they all laid there staring at the ceiling. He felt himself dozing off, and he mused how could it be that he could consider getting some sleep on the fucking floor of the studio, surrounded by his bandmates who were laying there with him too, along with an adrenaline-filled girl armed with make-up and her phone.

Yep. Sleep sounded like a delightful idea. Specially if Gold decided to show up again to beat them up with their cane if they found them in such a state.

A beep from his pocket brought him out of his thoughts. He took it out, tapping absentmindedly his notifications, and his eyebrows shot up in surprise to find out it was a mention from Emma.

** ESwan: Jones_LostBoy** I spy a freckle in that bad profile of yours...

* * *

"Where is she?"

"Easy, Henry - they're probably waiting for their luggage or something. It's a pain in the ass, let me tell you."

"You think so?"

"Yep. You don't want to know how many suitcases I've lost in here, lad."

"That must suck."

"Don't get me started."

Killian gripped Henry's shoulders under his hands, trying to ease the kid's nerves. He could understand the lad - they had been waiting for a long time, and there was so much that could keep a ten-year-old entertained in a packed airport. They had gone to check out some of the stores, bought candy, eaten said candy; they had sat in the horribly uncomfortable seats and tried to prove how someone would be able to sleep in them by trying out the most awkward positions he had ever dared to bend his body in, and they had exchanged more stories about the costume party, their days at the studio for the past week and the following awards both the band and Emma would be attending.

All in all, it had been fun.

Henry sighed, flinging his hands nervously. "I wish we could have brought Nana with us here. Mom would love it."

"I know, but they're not allowed in here unless they're small dogs to carry on your arm," Killian explained. He had in fact looked it over - just in case they could bring her. He was sure Emma would have cried if Nana had been waiting for her in here along with them.

He bet she'd probably go over to her the first, she was that smitten with the dog.

"Like those Paris Hilton carries around in her purse?," Henry mused, giving him a big toothy grin. He had to laugh - how did this kid know so much about pop culture? It was insane! Emma had assured him he didn't even had a phone, how did he find out about that stuff? He decided to indulge him anyway.

"Exactly. I don't see Nana fitting on my arm, though."

He really didn't. As much as he loved Nana, she was quite big for posing as a chihuahua.

"I think the paps would have a field day if that happened - there's always a few of them in the airport..." Henry left the thought hanging when his face broke into a wide grin, bouncing on his feet and squatting down, foregoing the barrier that kept the incoming passengers and the people waiting for them to go run after the newcomers. "There they are! Mom! Mom! Graham!"

"Henry!"

Killian's head shot up at the sound of her voice. God, he had missed her. Her voice. Her hair flying in all directions as she ran to meet her son halfway. The sound of her laugh.

He stayed put while Henry got to her, hugging her with all his might, his arms wrapping around her waist fiercely as she dropped kisses on his hair, her own arms going around him, her smile brightening her whole face.

She was brilliant. She _glowed_.

Henry broke from her, giggling when she kissed his forehead, and went over to greet Graham, who had been checking up his phone and making sure he hadn't forgotten anything in his backpack. He stood there, trying not to smile as he saw Emma scanning the small crowd gathered there waiting for their own loved ones - until her eyes found his.

A heartbeat, two, three.

A hundred. Who knew.

He could stare at her forever across the room for all that he cared.

Not when she threw herself at you, though - which was what happened: one second she was ten feet away from him and the other her arms were behind his neck and her legs wrapping around his waist. He was so surprised he nearly lost balance, but he recovered quickly, his hands grabbing her denim covered thighs so she wouldn't fall. He laughed at her flushed cheeks, and she leaned forward until their foreheads were against each other.

"Woah - you weight nothing, Swan. Have you been chocolate deprived or what?," he said, his smile threatening not to leave his face for hours to come, - just the fact that she was there, in his arms, her hair a halo around them and her scent enveloping him enough to make him want to crow in joy.

She let out a laugh, turning her head so they were cheek to cheek, nuzzling it gently. Her breath against his ear sent a shiver running down his spine. "Shut up."

He smiled fondly. "Bossy as ever I see."

She let her legs slide down his until her feet finally touched the ground, though he didn't let his hands go of her waist. Nuh-uh. He wouldn't stop grabbing for her for quite a long time from now on - he had been Swan-deprived enough these past weeks. They stood face to face, soft smiles mirrored in each other's lips, until her hand came up to cup his cheek softly, and he instinctively leaned against the warmth of his palm.

"Hi," she breathed.

"Hey," he answered, his voice coming out low and tentative.

She leaned forward ever so slightly, and he didn't even realize he was mimicking her every motion, nearly closing the gap between them, a breadth just keeping their lips apart. "I missed you."

He breathed a kiss against her mouth, lips ghosting over hers, not daring to close his eyes, blue meeting green in a charged stare. "I missed you too."

"No one missed me though. This is sad."

It was rather comical how they both sighed at the same time and immediately shared a small smile, a smile full of promise - a _'we'll continue later'_ smile.

The best smile he would ever get. Or not. In fact, any smile Emma would share or gift him with would be enough.

He turned towards his friend as he wrapped his arm around Emma's waist. "Are you kidding? How could I - every time I talked to her, I talked to you!"

Graham waggled his eyebrows comically, sending them both a cocky grin. "Thin walls, what can I say?"

Killian let out a groan, not wanting to discuss the thin walls debacle right there. They hadn't done anything inappropriate! He sent Emma a look from the corner of his eyes, noticing amusedly the tinting of her cheeks. Thank God Henry joined the conversation as the sweetheart he was to save the day, turning his head in Graham's direction excitedly. "I did talk to you too, right?"

Graham ruffled his hair, chuckling under his breath. "That's right - I can always count on you, buddy."

Sighing exasperatedly, Killian scanned around themselves to locate Emma's cases, grabbing them and following the trio to the gates leading outside - the heat wave nearly slapping him as soon as the doors closed behind them. He took out his glasses from his pocket, wearing them rapidly in order not to blink every couple of seconds against the blinding sun. He turned his head to the side, spying Emma breathing in slowly, letting the sunlight bathe her skin, nearly giving it a golden glow.

He addressed his friend with a whistle. "You want a lift, Humbert?"

Graham shook his head, waving a hand dismissively. "Nah, it's alright - I'm taking a cab and finally going to collapse on my bed and never wake up. It was nice meeting you guys. Au revoir!," he finished with a mock bow. Killian smirked, cocking an eyebrow at him.

"Look at that French. That was nice."

"Show off," Emma scoffed, rolling her eyes. Killian guessed Graham had been trying the French approach too much during the trip.

Graham shrugged innocently, smirking at Emma before going to hug her briefly and Henry, patting Killian on the back before he whirled around and started leaving for the queue waiting to hail a cab. "Don't miss me guys - oh wait, just Henry does. Have a good nice sleep, Swan," he paused, sending a wink in his direction over his shoulder, "or not."

Oh, Humbert. You don't even want to know. "Bye, bro."

Emma, for her part, huffed as if she could not get rid of her costar fast enough - though Killian could see the amused glint in her eyes as she did. "Get out of here, you loser."

They heard Graham's loud chuckle as they walked back to Killian's car, Henry sitting over Emma's cases while he told her everything he had done during her absence, sweeping his arms frantically around him to illustrate his point. Killian drove the trolley carefully trying really hard not to drop him - or the luggage - just in case Emma blamed him for being an irresponsible ass or something like that. He had been doing just fine for these past days when he had been on Henry's watch, after all.

"So. What did you bring for me?," Henry asked, jumping back to the ground when they got to the car and Killian started to arrange the cases in the trunk. Emma stopped fiddling in her purse, raising her head to stare at him with a disbelieving expression on her face.

"Really? That's the first thing you ask? Not _'hi mom, how are you? Are you tired? You want something to eat or drink? How was your flight? How did you enjoy the trip?'_"

Henry patted her arm before jumping into the backseat, and Killian shrugged at her when she stared at him over the hood of the car, features still shocked. "You'll tell us about that later. PRESENTS."

Emma settle herself in the passenger's seat, sighing defeatedly and looking back at her son. "Ugh. I'll give it to you when we get home."

Henry seemed pleased by that, nodding contentedly to himself before taking his fairytale book from his backpack and fiddling with the pages to entertain himself for the long ride back to Emma's place. "That's better."

Killian looked him over in the rearview mirror, trying really hard not to laugh at Emma's face at his side. He nipped at his bottom lip when he saw her making a face at him, finally shaking her head in exasperation. He asked her about the flight and the cities she had been to, wanting to know if she had been able to visit anything apart from TV sets and where the interviews and movie premieres had taken place. Albeit he knew most of what he was inquiring her about, it was different to hear her recounting it to him, her eyes lighting up as she explained excitedly about some of the food she had tried over there, how she had run into a guy who had bent on one knee and actually _proposed_ right in the middle of the red carpet before security showed him out, or how Anton, Abigail and Graham had guilted her into joining them for a karaoke night - 'a_gain', _as she moaned dejectedly - and how she prayed for no one to have any kind of video of it.

They finally got to the Swan residence, and Emma went to the back of the car alongside him to help him pick up her cases. He hauled them off the trunk, leaving the lighter one at her feet and taking the other in his hand before turning provoking eyes towards her. "So - did you bring anything for me?"

She bent to grip the case's handle in her hand, coming back up to seize him with a curious glance, a smile ghosting her lips. "I thought you said you didn't want anything?"

He made to grab her by her waist, pressing her against him in a sudden movement, relishing in her quiet gasp of surprise. He let his fingers wander over her hip in slow motions as he dipped his head so he could breathe in her ear. "I said I wanted one thing in particular."

Her lips twitched, and she tugged the hand holding her to drag him towards the front door, where Henry was waiting for them impatiently. "And she's right here, in one piece, just like I promised."

Fishing keys from her purse, they were welcomed by Nana's nonstop barking and jumping around, and Emma practically threw the cases without a care at her sight to wrap her arms around her, kneeling on the ground to pet her vehemently, the poor dog's whimpers mirroring her hushed endearments. "Nana, my girl, come here. I missed you so much, baby. How are you? Did the boys treat you well? Did you miss me? Did you miss the only other girl in the house? Did you have fun?"

Henry and Killian exchanged an amused smile, and he dropped the case he was carrying at the bottom of the stairs for them to carry up to Emma's bedroom later so she could unpack her things.

"You know as smart as she is she doesn't speak, right?" he told her when he passed by her side.

She ignored him, still stroking the furry pet and hugging her to her chest. "Get out of here."

He came back to kneel with her, petting Nana on the head too, making a point to let his fingers caress hers in the process. He darted his tongue out slowly, gently running it along his lips, not tearing his gaze from hers. "I thought you wanted me to stay tonight?"

He was way more than pleased to see her gulping loudly, a shiver claiming her body fast and her eyes dropping to the ground. "You know what I meant."

He laced his fingers with hers, tugging on them so she would look at him again. He flashed her a grin. "It's always nice to hear it." He got on his feet once more, dragging her with him and pulling her behind him towards the kitchen, waggling his eyebrows playfully. "Come on, let's get you something to eat and then we can go to bed."

"Is there..."

"Yes."

She narrowed her eyes in his direction, tilting her chin up in defiance. "I didn't even finish the sentence!"

He sent her an award-winning grin. "Emma. Please. It's chocolate. It's _always_ chocolate."

The three of them sat on the couch sharing a couple of pizzas - none of them were in the mood to prepare anything involving something else but heating it in the oven or the microwave - watching a movie after Henry had insisted endlessly about it. The fact that he had chosen _Alice in Wonderland_ was not lost on Killian, as he pointed out in a hushed whisper to Emma - especially considering how his goddaughter had dressed up as the main character in that party of theirs - but at Emma's light punch and don't-you-dare warning glare, he mimicked zipping his mouth and throwing away the key, determined not to tease Henry on his more than obvious - at least to him - crush on Gracie.

Oh, they grew up so fast.

It wasn't until halfway through the movie when he realized that Emma had fallen asleep on his lap, her breath tickling his neck, as she had buried her face back against his shoulder to get more comfortable while they were supposed to watch the cartoon. He smiled fondly, playing with a loose blonde curl, and silently made a motion to Henry not to make any noise in order not to wake her up. They finished watching the film, and when they were done, they decided to watch another one for the kick of it. It was still early, Emma looked nowhere near awake and they were bored.

Perfect time to rewatch Harry Potter.

A couple of hours later, Emma started to stir, and he stood still, waiting for her to acknowledge her surroundings. When she saw him sitting by her on the bed, she cocked an eyebrow, confused.

"You fell asleep. God, you didn't even get to Alice talking to the caterpillar."

He had to suppress a laugh at her disappointed face. "What? Aw man. I love that part." She scanned briefly the room, noticing that she was, in fact, in the bedroom, no longer laying on the couch downstairs. "Where's Henry?"

"I sent him to bed - we watched Harry Potter afterwards to pass the time while you slept."

That seemed to awake her even more. She sat, stretching her probably sore limbs after all those hours in the plane and then the couch and now the bed, and looked at him with horrified eyes. Aw, he knew she'd feel betrayed when she found out. "You watched Harry Potter without me? This sucks."

She let out a groan and collapsed on her back once more, pulling the pillow along with her and hiding under it. Killian chuckled and loomed over her - and the pillow, - bracing his weight on his arms, and took it in his hand to move it aside so he could see her face. "We can watch it again other day, love. Sorry. Kiss?"

She pursed her lips, trying to appear annoyed, but ended up shrugging lightly and propping up to meet him halfway, pressing her lips softly over his. "Kiss. Did you carry me all the way up here?"

"Bridal style." He really had. It had been quite funny - though it would have been even funnier if she had been awake, of course. He could only imagine her shrieking and kicking in her haste for him to let her down if it had been the case, he just knew it.

She considered him with hooded eyes, tilting her head to the side. "That's... oddly sweet. And you haven't even tried to get rid of my clothes. Huh."

Ah. That, he hadn't. He was surprised too.

"Gentleman. I tend to like my women willing, you see. And preferably awake," he explained, dipping his head towards hers once more. He brought his lips to her neck, pressing them along it, tongue flicking out to tease her skin.

"What if they're... terribly awake now?," she wondered aloud in a wavering voice.

"Oh, they'd be more than ready to help them ladies to dispose of their clothes, then," he drawled in an amused voice, not stopping his slow teasing of her skin, aware of the way her body responded to him.

"Would they?"

"Uh-huh."

Her own hand moved to curl around the back of his head, fingers threading in his hair. "Who am I to fight against gentleman etiquette then."

He didn't need further encouragement. He made quick work of her t-shirt, lifting it over her head and flinging it over the side of the bed, her pants promptly following. He kissed her deeply, his hands never stopping his trail over her skin. He heard her laugh at the sudden chaotic blur of pants, socks and underwear being thrown to the floor as they were both divested of their clothing in his haste to undress her and himself.

It had been too damn long.

He stopped in his tracks when she laid completely bare under him and a glimpse of glittery blue caught his eye. He lowered himself over her, his hand coming up to lightly touch the blue star hanging from her neck. "You're wearing it."

"I told you I would," she replied, a soft smile covering her mouth.

He was spared the need to speak when she bent to brush her lips against his, pressing her mouth insistently against his, burying her fingers in his hair. He moaned under his breath, his own hand going to grip her hip, pinning her under him.

Killian finally pulled his lips away from hers long enough to murmur, "is it too cheesy to repeat how much I missed you?"

She let out a laugh, looking up at him underneath her lashes. "How much you missed _this_, you mean?," she inquired, brushing her bare chest against him.

_Fuck_.

"Oh, I missed the girls alright. But no - I mean you. You, Emma Swan."

She bit her lip, and he followed the action with hooded eyes, suppressing the urge to bite it himself. Maybe later. Yeah, definitely later. "I missed the Captain. Not you, that's sure."

Tease. "I'll have to inform him, I bet he'd be thrilled," he acknowledged, nodding gravelly.

Emma laughed once more, mimicking his serious pose when she recovered from her giggles. "He should be - I'm not used to admitting this just to anyone, you know. I have standards..."

She never had a chance to finish her line of thought, however, because Killian cut off her speech in the best way he knew how - he kissed her. For a moment, she squirmed, probably in protest of his attempt to silence her, but finally she relented, allowing her lips to melt against his. He flicked the tip of his tongue along the inside of her upper lip, relishing the small sound of pleasure it elicited from her throat. Then he pulled away in order to cover her throat with a series of kisses before running his mouth along her collarbone, over her breasts, and down the soft curve of her stomach. He smiled against her skin when he heard Emma's giggles, probably due to the tickling he sure was inflicting over her, and soon enough he was joining her laugh, and he crawled up the length of her body so that both their flushed faces were inches apart, breathless chuckles passing from his mouth to hers.

All of a sudden, Emma leaned forward and squirmed under him, accidentally bringing her naked flesh in contact with his. They immediately fell silent, and with a low growl of need, Killian thrust his hips forward to join his body with hers. What happened next was, indeed, no laughing matter.

Screaming, however...

* * *

The following morning, Killian awoke to the pleasant aroma of vanilla. He realized that the scent was coming from something soft and silky resting against his face and therefore burrowed deeper into it, breathing deeply. He felt more content and well-rested than he could remember feeling in a long time, and he smiled to himself thinking of starting calling Emma his newly found sleeping pill.

He wasn't sure she'd find it all that funny, but oh, well.

He rolled over and stretched his arms over his head, but found his movement impaired by Emma's warm, very naked body pushed up against him, pinning his right arm to his side. He observed her for a while, taking in her sleeping form, not being able to stop smiling at her parted lips, the freckles on her nose, the hand on which she leaned her head. With his free arm, he reached up to brush softly the golden strands of hair away from her face, and he noticed how her body was pressed against his, one of her legs flung over his hips.

He lightly traced the dip of her waist and the soft skin of her flank, noting the pale tone of her skin, - and those beauty spots, God, did she have a lot of those, -until, beneath his gentle touch, he could feel her begin to stir.

An eyelid came up, and green met blue in a sleepy stare. "Morning," he whispered.

She closed her eyes again, nuzzling his neck as she came closer to him, burying her nose against his skin. "Morning yourself." They stayed for a while in silence, his fingers still tracing her naked form, until she cracked an eyelid open once more and groaned loudly. "Oh God, stop staring, I bet I look like a truck ran me over."

Silly, morning Swan. He rolled his eyes, adding in a sarcastic tone, "sure. Multiple times." He bent to kiss both her closed eyelids, the tip of her nose and finally her lips. "You. Are. Beautiful. No matter the hour of the day. Now shut up."

She let out a contended sigh, as she rubbed her tired eyes with the back of one hand and yawned. "I think something is really wrong with this relationship when we tell each other to shove it or to shut up 85% of the time."

"It's not when I'm asking you to shut up by kissing you, now, is it?," he asked, raising an eyebrow in question. She let out a giggle - something that still marveled him, as it made her sound so... girly. It was amazing how she would let herself show this part of herself.

To him, of all people. A fact that made him strangely proud.

She propped her head on her hand, turning to lock eyes with him. "Mmm. I guess that... gives a rather curious spin to the statistics. Kiss?"

He laughed in spite of himself, closing the gap between them. "Kiss."

He knew that she had just intended to peck him, but Killian was having none of that. He gently caressed her lips with his, grabbing the back of her neck and deepening the kiss, desperate to taste more of her mouth and feel more of her skin. Emma made a small sound of surprise in the back of her throat, but responded by pulling her body more tightly against his until he, albeit reluctantly, pulled away. He stroked her cheek softly, grinning at her shining eyes. "You want some breakfast?," she asked breathlessly.

"Sure, I'd love some breakfast, love."

She sent him a warning look - completely ruined by the smile threatening to escape her lips. "Don't start."

"I haven't even started...," he pouted. He loved making her laugh with his stupid jokes.

She chuckled as she got up from the bed, bending and picking up stray pieces of clothing from the floor, shaking her head at his antics. She threw his clothes to him, hitting him square in the chest. Ouch. Lucky him there was no belt in there. "Put on some pants, come on. I'm going to wake up Henry."

He sighed, trying not to stare too much at her as she put on a tank and some shorts - who was he kidding, he was openly ogling her, it was difficult not to, when she was so damn alluring, and especially showing off so much skin, - and finally mustered the strength and will enough to get up and take a quick shower. He couldn't help but laugh when he realized he was using her shampoo, and that that vanilla scent that seemed to clung to her clothes and hair would probably follow him for a while after he had rinsed off.

He wasn't complaining much.

Sap.

When he was done, he walked down the stairs to find Emma already in the kitchen, hair in a messy braid and hands on her hips, glaring at the fridge as if it had personally offended her in some way.

"No pancakes?" he wondered aloud as he spied her checking out the contents of the shelves.

Emma scowled at him, a frown marring her forehead. "Granny was right - I cannot do pancakes now after I tried hers. Bitch."

Killian, however, barely noticed her protest, and was instead distracted by how beautiful she looked with the morning light streaming onto her face, lighting up her hair. He felt a warm sensation surge through his entire being, starting at the base of his stomach and radiating outwards. It was no longer a foreign sensation - he had felt it before in Emma's presence, and he had been becoming increasingly familiar with it for the past months.

He had admitted it to her last night in her sleep.

He found himself standing behind her and looping his arms around her waist, bending down to plant a kiss on the top of her head. There was nothing sensual about his actions, and indeed, he had no plans for them to escalate any further.

He wondered how he hadn't felt this particular desire with any other girl beforehand - just because he wanted to hold her. He was experiencing so many firsts with her, it was somewhat ridiculous.

Emma let out a small sigh of contentment when he embraced her, but then she suddenly stiffened, turning to cast a searching glance in the door's direction when the doorbell rang loudly. He shrugged as she stepped out of the circle of his arms, calling over her shoulder to tell him to start fixing something for her. He chuckled and got to work, grinning as Henry joined him, still rubbing the sleep out of his face and yawning.

He heard Emma speaking to someone and, seconds later, the door closing. He had just finished setting the table and taking out of the fridge some eggs to make an omelette for her - he knew she was fond of those, he had found out whenever she had stayed at his place, where she practically left him with no provisions left, - and asked her, "who was it?"

"Mailman," she called, still in the hall.

He ruffled Henry's hair when he got up to help him fetching things to bring to the table, whistling distractedly under his breath and remembering _Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs_ and how the princess made up that song whenever she was working. He had always thought it was stupid - and here he was, just an apron left to look exactly like the fairest of them all.

Gosh.

A cracking sound brought him out of his musings, and he whirled around to see Emma in the doorway, one of the vases in a sideboard broken into pieces on the floor. Her face had paled unnaturally, and she stood there, a hand clutching her neck, nails nearly drawing blood in the sensitive skin there. She was holding some kind of package in her hand, eyes unseeing, mouth agape.

Killian ran to her, forgetting the pan heating in the stove or the eggs or whatever he had been doing as he halted in front of her, his hands gripping her forearms forcefully, shaking her lightly. "Emma? What is it?"

It took her nearly a whole minute to finally utter words, her horrified expression only making Killian dread even more whatever it was that had gone down. "This can't be happening."

He heard Henry walking to the doorway, probably worried about his mother. He caressed her arms in an attempt to soothe her, nearly groaning in frustration as she refused to meet his eyes. "Emma - Emma, love, look at me. What is it?"

As if coming out of some sort of daze, she tore her eyes from that damn package, locking eyes with him, her voice, normally sarcastic, soft, bright or full of life now hollow and empty. "He found us."

His eyes flashed with confusion and fear. What the hell was she talking about? His grip on her shoulders tightened, probably to the point where it must be hurting her, though she made no sign of feeling anything beyond that numb state she seemed to be in. "Who?"

She handed him the package, and he dropped one of his hands from her arm to take it and take a peek of its content. His mouth dipped into a sudden frown when he realized there were articles, photographs and clips from magazines and printed news about her, her and Killian together and the like. He noticed there was a note in between the clutter of papers, and he gingerly picked it up.

There was only a line written on it.

_Hey, princess._

Just as he was going to ask her what the hell it meant, she whispered, "Neal."

* * *

_**Hiya there!**_

_**Well, here it is - Killian is back (I missed him. Precious baby) and, as you probably have found out, some shit goes down. **_

_**Of course I'm talking about the twitter battle. Not Gold being all overprotective-papa over Silly Killy and Emma, or Neal showing up or whatever. Priorities, guys. **_

_**(Yep, Neal is in the building folks. Who knows what he wants.)**_

_**Also - hi Robin! You have a talk show, good for you man, good for you! **_

_**A small warning about updates - until mid June I'll be buried under finals, so don't expect the usual schedule - I'm sorry, but I don't enjoy tests either, I assure you. Ugh. Real life.**_

_**Big thanks to Cee aka Tiny thing aka beautiful tiny fiancé for betaing this and not dying in the process. Love ya. In tiny amounts.**_

_**Also ginormous thanks to all of you for your beyond sweet reviews, messages and encouraging support. I sometimes feel quite overwhelmed from such a positive response. I adore you all. Let's throw a party at the TLB studio, whatchasay? Savvy? Cool. You'll recognize me bcs I'll bring Adam Levine as my date, 'kay? (shhhh I don't care he has a Victoria's Secret model girlfriend. Nooo)**_

_**See ya soon, dearies! X**_

_**PS: There was Oasis involved in here, of course. "Wonderwall" (DUH), "Falling Down", "Bag It Up" and "Champagne Supernova" especially. Apart from those - "Fortress" by Pinback was fairly on repeat too :) **_


	25. Chapter 25: We Move Lightly

_**Disclaimer: None of this characters are mine. No Killian Jones, no Emma Swan, no Nana. Nope. If they did, we'd all hang out and I'd probably spend my days staring at their prettiness and perfection. Sadly, they all are owned by Adam Horowitz and Edward Kitsis, along with OUAT. Bastards.**_

_**Trigger warning for slight pannick attack. Y'all be warned.**_

* * *

This couldn't be happening. This wasn't real. It couldn't be. No.

She was just having a horrible nightmare, and she'd surely wake up, stare at the cream colored walls of her room and maybe poke Killian's side to get him to wake up along with her just to mess with him. Or go to the bathroom and glare at her mussed hair and jet-lagged face.

She'd take anything, fucking _anything_ but this.

Yet a small voice inside her head cruelly reminded her of her conversation with Killian the other day about lying. About not being so surprised when Henry was brought up in that interview, and how it had been kind of a relief for her. She really should have seen it coming, she should have really expected it, in fact. Because of course when everything seemed to be going fly as hell in her life, something had to come along and ruin it, take it from her and crush her hopes.

Again, this couldn't be happening.

Scenes replayed in her head: a cocky grin shot her way, laughter echoing inside her yellow bug, running around while angry yells followed their steps, kisses exchanged in the spur of the moment, consuming heat, a bright light to her right...

Emma clenched her eyes shut, taking in a sharp inhale of breath. Her hand shot to her neck, clutching it tightly as she begged her mind to stop recalling that night. The night that had changed everything for her, the night when she had rediscovered how the only one she could trust was herself until proven otherwise, except for her family. A family which, funnily enough, would have a new member soon enough after that, as she'd discover a couple of weeks later.

The night she had started piling brick after brick around her heart once more.

She started feeling dizzy, memories flooding her. She leaned over, her breathing coming rapidly as she covered her ears with her hands, trying to block out the sudden flashes going through her brain. The onslaught in her mind took over and covered everything outside of her. Killian's hand touched her shoulder and she heard his worried voice. She had forgotten he was even standing there, the package still in his hands. "Emma, are you all right?"

She wanted to answer, but her body trembled so hard she couldn't form the words. Her head spun due to the lack of oxygen from her frantic, shallow breaths. The pounding of her heart increased, making the breathing problem worse. She stumbled on her feet, clawing her way past Killian, who grabbed her arm before she fell.

"Emma, what are you doing?"

"A-air," was all she managed to get out.

The pain and panicked breaths got worse as she tried to walk to the kitchen. Her legs trembled and blackness tinged the edges of her vision as nausea rose in her stomach. She dug her fingers into Killian's arms, who had followed her and kept a tight hold of her waist.

"Mom, what's going on?" Oh God, Henry was watching her falling apart. Oh God. What was she supposed to tell him now? She shook her head, the gasps for air making it nearly impossible to form a coherent word. "I-I-do-don't-kn-know. D-don't worry."

"Henry, go and call Ruby or David and stay in your room until I call for you please." Killian's voice sounded from behind her.

"But..."

"Henry, please."

Emma didn't dare to look in her son's direction, afraid of what she'd see in his expression, the worry for her surely etching his features, but it was proving difficult for her to try to focus on anything other than her inability to properly inhale. Just as she heard Henry's footsteps leaving the room, her knees buckled underneath her. Killian barely managed to catch her before she fell to the ground, and in an instant she felt her body being swooped up and carried around the house. She had no idea what was going on around her, where she was going, or even who she was with at that point. All she knew was that she couldn't breathe and she really needed to breathe. Finally, she felt herself being lowered to the ground, her back against something hard and cold. Large, warm hands cupped her cheeks.

"Emma?" The hands against her face were gentle, soothing. "Emma. Listen to me. Focus on my voice. Can you do that?" Killian asked.

She sucked in what little air she could and nodded her head, her eyes still clenched tightly.

"Okay. Good." His thumbs moved over her cheeks, tracing small circles into her skin. "You're going to be okay. Everything is going to be alright."

She really wanted to laugh at that. Oh, if only he knew. But of course he wouldn't, she hadn't even told him anything about Neal since they had met. She had had the chance, but she hadn't been ready. She tended not to talk about whatever had hurt her, in the vain hope that it would not affect her if she pretended it had never happened, she supposed.

It had worked like a charm, huh?

Oddly enough, though, as his calloused fingers traced idle patterns on her skin and his voice kept reassuring her, she felt her body thrum in near numbness. He continued touching her, her face, her hair. Lightly, so soft that if she wasn't so focused on it she may not have felt it. Her breathing slowed.

What was it with his voice that calmed her?

Slowly, she came to press her face against the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply, embracing the unique scent that was him, that she had woken up to that morning, when nothing had happened and she felt completely content with her life. She buried her nose against him, feeling his pulse beating steadily against her cheek. Time seemed to pass slowly as she sat there, on the ground, with Killian seated in front of her.

"Feeling any better?" he asked quietly, his eyes studying her carefully.

She wanted to speak but wasn't really in the mood to even try. She knew she'd have to spill about it anyway, so there'd be time for that later. She nodded.

"You sure?" He ran his fingers through the hair just above her ear, his eyes never leaving hers.

She gulped loudly, closing her eyes once more. "Yes."

She could feel him fighting the words that he so desperately wanted to speak. It almost made her smile, knowing he was willing to swallow his curiosity - and obvious concern, of course - just for her sake, in order not to add pressure to her obvious distress. But apparently it was too much for him. "Wanna talk about it?"

She sighed heavily, burying her nose further into the soft cotton of his t-shirt, nuzzling it and inhaling once more. "Not yet."

"Want me to call Henry back?"

Oh, crap. Henry. She had almost forgotten about him witnessing the whole thing. Jesus. What was she supposed to tell him now?

She pulled away from him to stare right back at his face, noticing belatedly how the alarm still clung to his features. No kidding he had been scared after _that_. She still could feel her heart beating furiously inside her ribcage. "No. Not yet. I don't want him to see me like this."

"Emma...," he started protesting, fixing her with a measured look. She didn't let him continue, though. She wasn't about to budge.

She wasn't ready.

"Killian please. I don't know what I should tell him yet. I - I think I need him to stay with Regina today. I need to deal with this first," she finished in barely a whisper, nearly flinching as she heard how broken her own voice sounded in her ears.

Yeah, broken was definitely the word to describe it. The fact that it was also the name of her movie wasn't lost to her, like it had been a sign and she should have seen it coming.

Karma? Fate? Cosmic joke? Who knew, really. Emma just knew it sucked.

Killian kept looking at her closely under his lashes, and she let him see whatever he was seeking in her face. She found it funny how, for years, she had managed to close off any way in which she'd let someone read her, find out what she was thinking or feeling, and fool whoever she wanted or needed that way. Yet since Killian... she didn't even want to. She let him roam around her walls freely, he had managed to climb them and make his whatever it was she had inside of her.

She had welcomed it.

He ghosted a kiss on her temple and promptly got up with a sigh. "Okay. Stay here, I'll call her." She heard his receding footsteps and muffled conversation from the other room, while she waited, still sitting on the ground, her back to the wall and her legs bent in front of her. A sudden memory of her sitting with Killian on his bedroom's floor came to mind, when he had also been assaulted by memories and grief and she had come to him.

No wonder he knew how to calm her down. They were both so messed up, it was surprising they had gotten to this point barely unscathed. It seemed like half of their relationship was spent licking wounds and comforting each other.

But the other half was so full of happiness, Emma felt herself nearly glowing. She wouldn't change it for the world.

Killian showed up in front of her once again, her phone in his hand. "She said Daniel is on his way to pick him up." He paused and looked at her, cocking an eyebrow and his words coming up uncertain. "I should probably tell the lad to get ready?"

She nodded tiredly. "Thank you."

He kneeled in front of her, cupping her cheeks in his hands, his eyes intense on hers. "Emma, you should at least tell the boy something. He must be worried sick."

Boy, did she know that. She was amazed he hadn't ignored Killian earlier and tried to stay with her, or come back by now, but apparently he had been truly impressed - or Killian's commanding voice was surprisingly effective, who knew.

She swallowed hard, trying to ignore the lump in her throat. "I..."

He didn't even let her finish. He gripped her upper arms, pulling her to her feet and immediately grabbed her hand in hers, bringing her along the hall leading to Henry's room. "Come on. I'll go with you. You don't have to tell him anything, just show him you're okay. Then, we will deal with this mess."

Just as they reached her son's door, he sent her a reassuring little smile, and knocked before they heard Henry's dulled voice from inside. Killian opened it, and they saw him sitting on his bed, his book by his side and the phone thrown carelessly on the other. As soon as he saw them, he got to his feet and ran to her, hugging her middle in a tight grip. "Mom? Are you okay?"

She caressed his hair, those hazel tresses she so adored. It was hard, looking at him right now and thinking how his father had managed to get such a reaction from her. Someone who had made possible that such a beautiful, perfect tiny human being existed at the same time could hurt her in so many ways. "Yeah, kid, I'm fine. Sorry if I worried you."

He let go of her and stood back, examining her with an expectant expression. "I was. I called uncle David when Killian told me, he should be here soon."

Oh, right. This was going to be fun, she just knew it. Wait until David heard. Or Ruby. They were going to have a field day, she would bet anything on it.

She tried to add some cheer to her voice as she kneeled in front of him, her hands going to grip his shoulders. It wasn't going to be easy. "That's great, Daniel is coming too so you can go to Regina's for the weekend."

Henry's eyes grew wide, his brows furrowing in confusion and his lips parting, ready to berate her. She really couldn't blame him - she had promised him they'd spend the weekend together. "But you just came back! Wasn't I supposed to be home with you?"

She visibly winced, her eyes closing momentarily. She had been away running around Europe for promo and now that she was back she sent him away. She felt like absolute crap, but she couldn't find any other way around it.

She fought with the wavering in her voice as she tried to explain herself. She knew her son, and she knew he'd understand, though at the moment he was probably more annoyed with her than anything. "I know, I'm sorry but... that thing downstairs. I need to take care of it first, and I don't want you around just in case."

His expression morphed from sulkiness to confusion. "Why?"

"Henry, I can't explain it right now. But you have to trust me, please. Believe me, I want to stay with you more than anything, but I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you," she ended, a touch of pleading filling her words, such was her desperation for him to understand she really needed him to stay away from this while she tried to piece together what was going on.

He scooted closer to her, his voice worried as he gripped her hand in his forcefully. "Wait - is it something dangerous?"

Was it? She really hoped not. Who knew what Neal had become in all these years - if his trouble-looking ways were a giveaway back then, she wasn't really looking forward to find out what it was he did for a living (if he did anything, that was).

She always had those kick-ass moves she'd learned in training for the movie, just in case...

Emma shook her head, to clear her wandering thoughts and to try to reassure her son, who kept gripping her hand like his life depended on it. "No, no. Don't worry kid. But please, don't be mad at me," she all but begged, her face falling as she looked down at him.

She felt like crying when she saw understanding in Henry's expression, his arms coming around her once more, all under Killian's attentive gaze from the doorway as mother and son hugged each other like they were not going to see each other in years.

"Will you be alright though?," he murmured in her ear as she kept her hold on his small frame, all plaid shirts, pointy ears, freckles and impish smiles.

She patted his head softly, inhaling his scent. "Yeah. We will all be alright, I promise." Pulling back, she got to her feet again and clapped her hands, all business-like hoping to mask the fact that she was about to cry or do something equally emotional. "Come on, let's get you ready."

Not twenty minutes later, he was all packed, Daniel at the front door waiting after reassuring Emma that Regina would call later to find out the details and set to work and that Henry would be okay until she felt he could come back. Emma placed her son's book inside his backpack, and was about to give him Nana's leash when he stopped her, giving it back to her and whistling for the dog to come to their side. They both petted her as Emma looked down at him wonderingly, waiting for an explanation. Henry just shrugged and signaled over the dog, who nuzzled Emma's hand and rested her head against her so she would keep petting her.

"I think you need her here more than I do."

* * *

"Reinforcements are here," Killian called not long later when the unmistakable sound of tires against pavement roared through the windows. He got up from the stool he had been occupying with her as they drank a cup of cocoa - the only thing she'd ever drink at this point, managing to calm her frazzled nerves, - and took a peek from the window pane. She saw him lifting his brows, and she would say he even looked near amused. How he managed that, she didn't know. "Oh, good. In fact, it's the whole trope."

Was he serious? She cocked her head to the side, her hands gripping the mug tightly. Oh, look, it was the mug Henry had gotten her in one of his trips with school. She still couldn't believe he had had the guts to buy her a _'Keep Calm and - but WHY IS THE RUM GONE?'_ mug. For starters, how did he know she liked rum? And second, where had they taken the kids so they would find these? Weren't they supposed to buy the ones with unicorns and other cute little animals?

Though the fact that her son digged the pirate thing wasn't too surprising, if she were honest with herself. She blamed Johnny Depp.

"What do you mean?," she finally asked, raising her eyebrow - though it didn't even matter, as the front door opened with a loud bang and the whole cavalry got in. And by that she meant her brother, her future sister-in-law and her best friend.

If someone had offered her money in exchange for picking the most freaked out of the three of them, she would have had a hard time. They were looking positively disheveled, eyes wide and stricken features.

Woah.

"What happened?," David inquired as soon as he got to the kitchen, placing his hands on the counter. Fuck, he looked like a prince laying out his battle plan alright. Funny enough, he wasn't even looking at her - he was glaring at Killian, as if he expected all of this to be something to blame on him.

The man in question only managed to put his hands in front of him, shrugging innocently. "Don't look at me, I'm still waiting to find out myself."

Ruby came behind him, coming to stand beside Emma and taking the seat that had been previously occupied by Killian, and propelled herself forwards so they'd stand side by side, legs brushing. She shivered as her friend's hand closed over hers - Ruby always had cold hands and feet. Something to do with blood circulation or some shit she had explained to her countless times whenever she whined about it. "Henry said you freaked out about something they delivered home?"

Emma closed her eyes for a moment until she locked gazes with Killian. He nodded and walked to the living room, coming back with the dreaded thing in his hands. He positioned it on the counter in front of her little, special, dysfunctional family. "Here."

She felt all three of them staring intently at her, like they were waiting for her approval before they perused the contents of the fucking thing. Like she wanted to touch that box again - it hadn't brought anything other than anxiety and bad memories. She went on tapping her nails against the colored ceramic, ignoring their knowing looks until she spied from the corner of the eye Mary Margaret huffing exasperatedly and grabbing the package, opening it and pouring its contents over the linoleum, papers flying around them as they fell. For a mad, fleeting moment all she could think of was that show where bills are thrown into the air and people have to grab them.

In this case, they'd get random articles and prints of her life since she had become a celebrity. Not so appealing, she was sure.

Cue to her family freaking out. She should have considered grabbing a pair of earplugs for this part. It wasn't until she heard Ruby's gasp that she realized she had found the note - alerting her of who had been responsible behind the whole thing. She passed it to her brother - Emma wasn't really looking forward to seeing his expression, she was sure she'd feel like a teenager all over again as his face hardened when he came to the conclusion that someone was trying to mess with his little sister, - and David lastly made sure Mary Margaret could see it too.

Let the screeching begin, guys.

"No fucking way."

"This can't be happening."

"I'm going to murder that bastard right now."

"How the hell did he... I mean..."

"Emma..."

They kept going on and on for a while, commenting on the articles, the note, the pictures. Hell they even started examining the package just in case they could find any clue about where it had come from. Emma was fighting really hard not to comment on how CSI they all looked at the moment, looking for any kind of lead or possible angle in which their mysterious criminal - was he a criminal? Was he just trying to mess with her head? What did he want in fact? Who knew, - could have possibly found her.

It wasn't until she heard Mary Margaret trying to get her attention to ask for what felt like the millionth time what had exactly happened - after getting Killian's version and apparently not feeling satisfied with what she had heard, which was absolutely ridiculous, what else could be behind opening the door to the mailman, signing and closing it again? - that all the pent up frustration and anxiety crippling her exploded. She banged the mug on the smooth linoleum surface in front of her, noticing in the corner of her mind that she had possibly chipped the mug, and started at her family, blazing eyes in their direction and her hands nearly trembling as she attempted to control her emotions. "What? What do you want me to say? What am I supposed to make of this? Huh? How I should have known better? Or how have I been so fucking stupid to think he would never show up after what he did and try to fuck his way around with my life? Or what I should tell Henry now? Or just what the fuck does he want?"

She hurriedly stood from her stool, ignoring Ruby's outstretched hand in her direction and Mary Margaret's pleading eyes. "I need a moment," she declared. She made her way towards Henry's room, only a fleeting glance sent at Killian in her wake. As soon as she got inside, she walked over to his bed, collapsing on the mattress and hugging his pillow in her hands. Laying on her side, she spied some pictures he kept on his bedside table: of Ruby and him, faces full of paint from a fair they had assisted some years ago, at Ruth's with her brother, of them both when they first moved to LA and got properly installed in their new place. She took notice of one he had added recently that she hadn't even seen. Stretching out her arm, she picked it up and a fond smile stole her lips when she saw Henry, Nana and Killian in one of their walks around the neighborhood. She guessed Ruby had taken it while she had been in Europe and they had spent time together in between. She fingered her son's frame in the picture, his features light with contentment as he ran with his dog, a teasing grin sent in Killian's way.

It was that grin that brought Emma back to memory lane. Of course.

Because, as cheesy as it sounded, sometimes all a girl needed to fall for a guy was a cocky smirk and a bad attitude.

Neal.

They had met when she was a junior in college – she had been young, careless, naïve, and incredibly stupid. She saw it now, years later: how she had let him captivate her, trap her in so easily. He had been charming, magnetic; the kind of charismatic guy who lured you to him like a moth to the flame. The kind of boy you'd never think would be interested in a girl like her.

Alas, he had.

And she had been so surprised by that fact, that she hadn't really stopped to consider all the choices she was making at the moment, as any lovestruck young girl would be, when all she had was love to offer to this guy who claimed to love her. There was no David or no Ruth there to loom over her – she had moved to San Francisco to join SF State University, while David stayed home and started his business, though the next year he moved there when all hell broke loose – and despite the fact that she had been getting infamously along with Ruby and Mary Margaret, two of the girls she shared a dorm with in the city, they kind of drifted apart for a while, considering how Emma spent most of her time with Neal instead of with girls her age and who may had helped her when he let her down.

She wasn't proud of the things she had done at that time. Not at all. She wished someone would wipe her memory and leave it all behind, but seeing as there were no actual magic wands or spells to '_obliviate_' oneself, she had to deal with the mistakes she'd made during that troublesome period of her life. She had been out most nights, she had tried things she would never had dared before, and she had even been a couple of nights in the police station for minor crimes whenever Neal asked her for help in one of his 'little adventures', as he liked to call them. Emma had felt elated at first when he had asked her to join him: the adrenaline, the excitement, the rush; it was all new to her.

Until one of his escapades got a little out of hand.

He told her they were pranking some frat douche's place – and hopefully, taking some kind of haul from it before they left. Emma was supposed to wait in her standard yellow bug while he did whatever he had planned inside of the poor guy's place. She didn't even know who he was – the only thing she did know was that he would probably be really sorry in the morning for pissing off her boyfriend. You didn't mess with Neal Cassidy and got away with it, that was what she had learned since they had gotten together. One way or another, her blood run cold when smoke started coming out from the windows and she spied flames behind the panes. Frozen in horror, she hadn't even stopped to think: she had called the police and the fire department, absolutely horrified at the possibility that someone could get hurt in the fire. She wasn't sure what had even happened inside, if that had been Neal's plan all along or if it had been an accident.

When the firemen got everything under control, she had been about to pass out from stress and worry for him. She had told them that there were people inside, but apparently they had escaped before the fire started, as they didn't find anybody inside. Uneasiness had slowly started to creep into her body, dread taking a hold of her heart when she realized that he had left without her. He had left her.

Not only was the sudden understanding that he hadn't even cared to check if she had gone into the house to look for him, or if she had been hurt the worst that came to happen anyway. The police took her for questioning to the station, and as naive as she had been back then, she hadn't even been aware of the way the inspector kept looking at her when she mentioned she knew there were people inside the house.

Now, of course, she wanted to slap herself. Of course they'd think she was behind the whole thing - or aware of it, at least.

Which was what made her spend the worst night of her life in a cell, sitting against the wall on her cot, waiting for a miracle, for a fairy godmother to show up and save her from that fucking nightmare that was slowly becoming her life.

It had been David who had driven all the way from their hometown to San Francisco to see she made it out of there. They still hadn't found evidence against her, and the fire department had declared that it appeared like it had been an accident and not something planned beforehand, so she had been free to go with 50 hours of community service to attend to after a couple of sessions of endless questioning, explanations, names revealed and tears.

It had taken everything in her not to break down when he brought her back to the dorm.

She hadn't realized she was still tracing the picture's frame with her fingers leisurely when she heard the creaking of the door opening. She halted her movements for a second, but kept going when she realized he wasn't going to ask her to move or get out to join them all in the kitchen again. She felt the bed dip beside her, a body adjusting to the somewhat ridiculously small bed for both adults outstretched over it.

A sigh escaped her lips. "I knew they would send you."

"Well, I am the charming one. Even if Jones keeps trying to take my place."

She rolled over in the tiny space she was constricted to after he had joined her, maneuvering herself with the photograph frame still in her hand. She sent him a hard look. "We are so not talking about Killian."

David just rolled his eyes at her, grabbing the pillow from her other hand and positioning it under their heads after motioning her to lift it until it was ready. "That's not why I'm here and you know it." They stared at each other for a long moment, and nostalgia engulfed Emma as she recalled simpler times, when they were young and they'd ditch homework to go and read comic books and magazines in his room while Ruth believed they were being in fact productive. Of lazy evenings spent together watching movies, sharing stories from school and people they both knew. Those first crushes David had experienced and made him seek her out for 'girl trouble'. As she had said, simpler times. "I saw the pictures and the note. Do you have any idea why is it that he suddenly popped up in here?"

Emma knew her brother wouldn't beat around the bushes. That's what she had liked most about him when they had met back in the day when she was told he'd be her lab partner. However, right now she wished she didn't have to acknowledge the ugly truth. "I think you already know," she exhaled after a pause.

She lifted her gaze to his, and recognition and understanding clouded his eyes, nodding gravelly. Of course he'd know. He was her brother, he knew the story behind Neal and her, and he knew how messed up some people could be. "Henry," he finally stated, tone somber and haunted.

She nodded, biting her lip in distress and running in her head for the hundredth time the possibilities behind his reasoning sending those photographs and his sudden wish to make his presence known after so many years and his more than obvious abandonment.

Passing her fingers through her hair - God, she hadn't even gotten to wash it after the trip back from Europe, it must be a mess at that point, - she added to further her point, "It's the only thing he could use to get to me. That's the only explanation I can come up with."

A sudden rumble startled her, until she realized it was David growling by her side, frown so hard that his eyes were barely visible. "What a piece of shit. I swear I'm punching him if he dares to show up here."

"You know he will," she countered back, discouraged. If she knew something about Neal, it was that he'd do anything just to get what he wanted.

David sent her a curious glance. "I really don't. I never actually met him, remember?"

That was right, he hadn't even been in the city with her. Ruby had managed to get a peek of him a couple of times, and so had Mary Margaret and Ella when he popped up in her dorm to take her out or she sneaked him up to her room, but that was it.

The supposedly greatest love of her life, her first love: a blurry face for everybody else but her. A ghost.

How sweet.

She stopped trying to tame locks of her hair, pinching the bridge of her nose instead. "Yeah... it was so fast. Yet never meant to be, as I cruelly learned in the end." Oh, Emma Swan. You could probably drown in all the venom pouring from your words, I'm sure.

At her words, David flinched, his expression turning pained in a heartbeat. She saw him clenching his eyes shut as he spoke. "Please don't remind me of that night. Don't. You have no idea... having to watch you fall apart. Your face when I had to take you out from that place. I don't think you understand how hard it was Emma." He stared back at her then, taking her hand in his and lacing their fingers together. "You're my sister. You're my family. I should have protected you, I should have been there before everything..."

She brought up their joined hands in front of his face. "Don't. You weren't even there."

"Yet I could have..."

God, he was going to make her say it, didn't he? Again? She sighed - ugh, she was sighing so much today, it was not even funny - and sent him a glare so he'd let her speak. "David. We have talked about this so many times - let it go. _I_ did. He fucked me up good, yeah, but he also gave me Henry." She lifted the picture frame still in her other hand, waving it in front of him and unable not to smile as the grin her son shot to the camera in the picture warmed her even while discussing such a heartbreaking moment in her life. "As much as it hurt, something good came out of it."

David took the frame for her, inspecting it slowly, his lips morphing into a tiny smile as his fingers outlined Henry's silhouette just as she had done earlier. He placed it in the small gap between them and held her stare unwaveringly. "We will face him. We will take him down if he tries anything."

She let out a pained laugh. What was with all of these? They managed to sound like they came from some party line to inspire losers like her. "You sound like Killian with all this positive crap."

"He's starting to grow on me," he commented with a grin. Emma noted to herself that this should be considered a small victory when it came to the David-Killian stand down after Mary Margaret had told her how worried her brother was about her newfound relationship with the musician. Thank God for small victories. David left the bed in one swift movement, rounding it so he stood to her side and offering her his arm to help her up. "Come on, let's get out of here - Mary Margaret and Ruby must be worried."

She made a point of groaning loudly as he got her to her feet - as they had always done when they still lived together and Ruth asked David to make sure she didn't stay in bed, having to drag her like a rag doll most of the times until she was out of the sheets - and they both came back to the kitchen, where Ruby, Mary Margaret and Killian were, of course, expecting them. Emma shuffled a bit on her feet, embarrassed at her previous outburst at her friend when she had been nothing but trying to help her. She turned apologetic eyes in her direction, but they weren't needed: both of her friends ran to her and hugged her, arms intertwined and locks of hair interlocked between bodies pressed tightly together.

If David laying by her side had brought her back to her teenage years, these two made this embrace feel like they were back to that time when they had all discovered something changed: they had grown up. All the innocence, the silly ideals they had when they believed everything was bright, shiny and new fading in the background and reality crashed down on them: responsibilities, paperwork, deadlines. Yet they always made it brighter, happier by just being there.

"Are you okay?," Mary Margaret inquired after pulling back from her, though not letting go of her hand. She grimaced, not really sure what she was supposed to say. Was she?

Quick, Emma: duck and run. "As well as one could be. Can we not discuss the matter at hand?"

Ruby led her to her seat, Killian sitting across from her and assessing her narrowly. "Are you serious? How can we not? We need to do something about it first, right?," her friend screeched, arms sweeping around her making her bracelets crinkle merrily.

Emma let her head fall to the countertop in a tired gesture, wishing she could just go back to bed and forget this had happened in the first place. "He just has sent it, I still don't know what he means by that note."

Killian's voice made her raise her gaze to him. "Emma, I know you're in a bit of a shock right now, but I don't think this counts as a late Christmas card."

She scrunched up her nose at him, jutting out her chin. "I know that, you idiot. I meant that maybe he is waiting to see what I'll do now before he makes the next move. For all I know, this could be from a crazy fan who has gone too far with the stalkering."

"How do you know it's not?," he asked, curious. Oh, right. Of course he wouldn't know. And he hadn't even inquired about it earlier, she had to give it to him: he had patience.

"Because of this," she explained, taking the note in her hand and shoving it in his direction. At his still uncertain expression, she dropped her eyes to the ground, avoiding his eyes when she felt her cheeks flaming when she went on to explain herself. "He... he used to call me that all the time."

As silence fell around them, she lastly managed to gulp down her growing indecision and looked back up at him. His eyes were fixed on her, kind and soft, probably recalling the countless times he had in fact called her that and she had shown every damn time how it made her feel.

Like punching him. Or puking. Or screaming. Or something equally disgruntled at the idea of someone ever referring her as a princess ever again.

David cleared his throat, interrupting the charged stare exchanged betwen them. "Look, at least we have to tell someone about this. If he approaches you again, we'll need to be ready. A lawyer, the police, whatever it takes. And Regina, I'm sure she will help with anything."

"Even Mr. Gold," Ruby piped in.

Emma waved a hand at them, ignoring their ideas. "Don't worry about it, I know the first step here." They all stared at her expectantly. Seriously? Shouldn't they guess?

Who was like the voice of reason whenever she had had some kind of problem?

"Calling Archie," she explained, somehow managing to make it sound like 'duh'.

Killian made a face at her, stroking his chin as he drawled, "Archie as in the guy who walks Pongo not far from here?"

Oh, right. She had forgotten he had met him not long ago while they walked the dogs. Huh. Yep, that was Archie, her beloved tiny, smart voice who used to be kind of her prince in shining armor whenever she needed advise or a hand in paper stuff she had no idea how to deal with. "Yeah. He's my lawyer - has been for years."

Her family nodded, happy with the idea - they all knew Archie, and valued his help and judgement when it came to stuff like that. He also had other clients who were in the business, so Emma was sure he'd have some idea as to how to approach this.

Pleased with the outcome of their little intervention, Ruby knocked her fists on the counter with unusual force, her hazel eyes glowing. "Okay then. Let's take the fucker down."

* * *

"So. How was that for an eventful day, huh?"

"I don't know how you are able to joke about this," she said as she dropped her purse on the table, dragging her feet towards the bathroom to change into her pajamas. She was _so_ not doing anything else: longest day ever didn't even begin to describe this whole thing. First, she wakes up to have silly banter with Killian, then she gets a fucking creepy souvenir from her estranged ex boyfriend for the past eleven years who suddenly wants to be all spooky with barely concealed threats, then she has to make her son leave with her manager so he doesn't find out about said creepy message until they know how to deal with it, then her family shows up and demands answers, then her brother gives her a pep talk and the worst night of her life is revisited in her mind, then they all decide to call Archie to see what they should do, later they try to eat something before going to his office downtown but all she manages to gulp down is a miserable hot dog, and fucking finally they get to see Archie after he is done with some scandal another of his clients was experiencing - so they had had to wait for an excruciatingly long time.

It had been fun, all in all.

Killian followed her, rummaging in her closet for the shirt and sweatpants he had started wearing to sleep whenever he stayed at her place. "Considering I am still waiting for the story, I think I'm allowed to."

Emma halted, toothbrush frozen mid-movement as she stared at his reflection in the mirror when he entered the bathroom behind her. Wait. "Didn't Ruby and Mary Margaret tell you while I was with David?," she asked, startled. Had he been with her _all day_ and still hadn't heard the whole story? She had assumed they had filled him in.

He shrugged, studying her carefully from the corner of his eye as he picked up one of those toothbrushes they gave you in hotels that she had given him the other day. _'For her hygienic safety'_, of course. "They just told me it was Henry's father who had sent it. When I asked what he did to you, they said he didn't know about the kid because he left you before he even knew."

She scoffed, finishing brushing and rinsing her mouth, closing the tap with a shove. "That's a nice way of putting it."

"I wouldn't know," he declared offhandedly as he finished too, leaving his poor excuse of a toothbrush beside hers. Huh. The whole toothbrush thing reminded her of those stupid chick flicks rules about 'moving in together' when you left yours in the guy's place and viceversa. _Too soon, buddy. Too soon. _When she made to turn around to go to bed, he gripped her arm, halting her and spinning her around so she'd face him. "Look, if you don't want to talk about it, I get it, but..."

Emma felt all energy leaving her, draining her all of a sudden. She let herself seek his warmth, pressing her body against him and hooking her arms around his neck, speaking in his ear. "No, no. I just...," she paused, her hand playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. She inhaled heavily before continuing, her voice coming out strained. "...talking about it makes it hurt. You know?"

"I do. So much." His hand caressed her side, and she felt him pushing her a bit until they were looming beside her bed. He sat with his back pressed against the headboard, and she crawled to him until she was sprawled across it, her head resting on his legs. His fingers playing with her hair, she closed her eyes, savoring the moment and wishing she could stay in there forever.

But he was waiting for a story. Even if it wasn't one of Henry's cherished fairytales, this one would have to do.

She wasn't starting it with 'Once Upon A Time', though. No way.

"We met when I was in college. He had 'troublemaker' branded on his face, and I knew that, but I guess I was kind of into that. I don't know. In fact, I would never have expected him to want anything to do with the small town girl who did her homework and was perfectly responsible and overall good daughter material. But he did. He taught me about pickpocketing. He taught me how to smoke. I nursed my first hangover with him." She paused, a blush staining her cheeks as she recalled other nights spent with Neal. "Let's say a lot of my 'firsts' were with him," she admitted finally, her voice squeaking as she did.

Killian hummed, his expression cautious while he listened to her. She could see his eyes glowing in the faint light coming from the street lights outside of the window, - fuck, she could even see his lashes. Why did he have such long lashes? Ugh. "Seems like he also was your first heartbreak."

Huh. She guessed he was. Her lips formed a sad smile, her fingers going to her neck to play with the blue star hanging at the base of her throat, and she saw him following her movements with a faint smile of his own. "You so observant," she commented with a sigh. "Yeah. One night, one of his stunts went a bit too far and he fled the scene, leaving me there to take the fall for it. Never heard of him again." Pausing awkwardly, she turned her head to peek at the articles, photos and note, now stacked neatly after they had shown them to Archie and resting on her bedside table. "Until now."

Killian followed her gaze with a frown. "Did you know you were pregnant when it happened?"

"No, it wasn't until later. Cherry on top, that was." It really had been. Not only had she nearly been blamed for something she hadn't even known after an episode in which she had thought her boyfriend could have died in a fire or had caused it; no: she had to find out she was pregnant with the child of said man. Of course now she knew she wouldn't have done anything different, if just for the sole reason that her son had grown up to be nothing like his father. At all.

A fact that she thanked for any deity above every day of her life.

Killian exhaled heavily, letting his body drop from his sitting position so he'd be lying beside her on the bed, his hand coming up to caress her arms in feather-like strokes, making her shiver. "I am so sorry."

He sounded so honest, she felt her heart start beating faster. She closed the gap between them, awkwardly dragging herself closer to him until their noses were touching. "I am so tired," she muttered.

"Yeah. Me too."

And she knew he understood she didn't just mean physical exhaustion. This had nothing to do with it - well, maybe a little, it had been a tiring, emotionally draining day. But this whole mess had taken its toll with her, that was for sure.

They laid there for a while, and Emma ghosted her fingers over the planes of his face leisurely. He had shut his eyes, his lashes casting shadows against his cheekbones. His mouth curled into a smile as her hands ghosted his skin, and all of a sudden those eyes of his were looking closely at her, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. "Are you afraid?"

She scooted closer to him, burying her face against his chest. "Terrified."

"Of not knowing what he wants?"

She almost wanted to snort at that. If he only knew. "Oh, I think I know what he wants."

He pulled back from her, a frown touching his lips as he studied her, probably wondering why she hadn't said anything earlier. "What would that be?"

Emma propped herself on one elbow, not a trace of mockery or amusement in her tone as she leveled him with a glare. "What could he possibly want, eleven years later, after finding out his ex girlfriend is a famous actress?"

His eyes crinkled worriedly at the corners. "You mean money?"

_Ding ding ding, we have a winner._

She threw up her free hand in a 'duh' gesture. "What else? I'm sure the possibility of a reconciliation is not on the cards, so..." That'd go well: instead of creepy pictures and signed notes, he could always have shown up with candy and flowers asking for forgiveness, huh?

She would have been too glad to punch him and knee him in the groin just to make her point. Alas, not everything went as she wished.

Fuck it.

"Why would he ask you for money?," Killian went on, narrowing his eyes, as if trying to understand what the motivation behind Neal's actions was. Letting out a long sigh, she rolled to her other side to grab the stack of pictures, bringing them back to set them in the gap resting between them.

She laid them out carefully on the duvet. "Killian... look closely at the pictures. What do they all have in common?"

Tearing his eyes away from her, he picked one, then another, examining them closely until he had nearly gone through them all, narrowing his brow as realization dawned on him. "Henry."

_Bingo_. "There you are." She wasn't sure if Neal had actually found out about her way earlier than now with all the boom with her last movie, but she was sure it hadn't been until news of Henry had hit the press that he had decided to check up on them both. It wouldn't be so difficult to find out he was the exact age a kid conceived around the time they had been together would be.

"And what are you going to tell him?," Killian wondered at her side, picking up the pictures and putting them behind him under her grateful gaze. She really didn't want to see them around.

"I have no idea."

As if he was reading her thoughts, he asked, "does he know the whole story?"

Why was he so perceptive again? It was becoming annoying at times. Eyes lingering on his, she went on, remembering one of the few times Henry had dared to ask about his father and the onslaught of emotions that had brought with it. "He knows his father left me before I knew I was pregnant. He doesn't know the whole nearly-in-jail thing. Or that he was into vandalism."

"Why?"

She scooted even closer, wrapping her arms around him, her cheek pressed against his chest letting her feel the steady sound of his heartbeat. "When he asked me about him, I was willing to tell him, but when he heard that he abandoned me, he didn't want to know anymore."

She had been the one most surprised at this development, as she had expected the kid to keep bombarding her with questions about his father - as any boy his age would do, full of curiosity and wonder about his roots. She hadn't pushed him, though, and from then on he avoided the topic altogether, and whenever something came too close for comfort about it, he brushed it off.

Killian kept pushing strands of her hair behind her ear, taking them out of her face. "He probably guessed you could have abandoned him too, yet you didn't. You chose him."

The soft-spoken statement tore her from her thoughts, bringing her attention back to him. She met his eyes steadily. "Maybe. I don't know. I'm not sure how he's going to react to this - his father using him to try to extort me. Not what a kid wants to hear about their parents, I'm sure."

A soft, steady sound, like padding, came from the hall, and both she and Killian turned to look towards the door, where Nana poked her head behind the door, probably confused as to where Henry was. She was used to sleep in his room, after all. Emma sat up, patting rhythmically with her hand the side of the bed so she'd join her there. "Aww, baby, come here. You miss Henry? You can sleep in here with us."

"Faaaantastic. Sleeping with the dog," Killian commented dramatically, when in reality he was joining her to poke Nana's head playfully. A loud beep interrupted them abruptly, and Killian ran to his feet to fish his phone from the pocket of his jacket. He scrunched up his forehead in confusion as he stared at the screen, and Emma narrowed her brow. She really didn't need any more bad news today.

"What is it?"

He threw the phone to her carelessly as he slouched down to his previous spot, stretching his arms above his head and yawning. "Private number."

Her eyes sought his, feeling a pang of annoyance at his nonchalant attitude. She _hated_ being ignored on the phone. "Aren't you going to pick it up? Maybe it's important."

He sent her an annoyed look, huffing like a kid. Oh, God. "I hate picking up private numbers - suddenly it's people selling stuff or whatever and it makes me sick. I'm not taking it."

"Are you serious? Give me that," she proclaimed, lunging for the phone and pressing the button just as he exasperatedly whined "Emma!"

She ignored him, trying to listen to whoever it was on the other side of the line. "Hello?" She thought she heard someone breathing, but it was hard to tell. "Hello?," she repeated, growing irritated. Okay, maybe Killian had a point. As long as this wasn't someone whispering creepy _'seven days'_ lines, she was fine. She still resented Ruby for making her watch that stupid movie, it had only made her disconnect her phone for a week. Right before she was about to ask again to the caller, there was a rustling sound and the end line on the receiver. She stared at the screen, surprised. What was that about? "They hung up."

Killian tried to suppress a laugh at her side, nipping at his bottom lip and failing miserably. "Of course they did - they expected my amazing voice and got yours instead. That's disappointment in a nutshell."

She made a face at him, even though she could feel her face breaking into a grin. He was _so_ full of himself. "Shut up."

One moment she was sitting, the next one she was pinned down to the bed with him hovering over her. She was about to call him out on these sudden jerky movements of his - he did have those when he slept, sometimes he startled her so bad when they were sleeping she thought he was having a seizure or he was being murdered - when she noticed him tracing her lips with his finger, rendering her speechless at the intensity of his gaze. "I missed this all day."

She cocked her head to the side, confused. What was he talking about? Just as she was about to ask, he made a point of touching the dimples at the corner of her mouth. What Henry had explained to her once where _'the forbidden kiss' _was hidden - something Peter Pan related, if she remembered correctly. Again. She really should look out on the so many things that story had relating to her life right about now. "I hate seeing you miserable," he added, features softening as he tilted her chin up to peck her on the lips lightly.

She suppressed a sigh, laughing in spite of herself at his tenderness. "Thank God you were here. I needed a distraction."

Oh, boy. The smile he gave her ought to be illegal. What had she done?

"If what you wanted was a distraction, you only needed to ask...," he uttered, looking down at her again, eyes twinkling beneath his lashes with mischief.

Her pulse picked up in pace without warning, her breath going out in a gasp as his fingers wandered over her flank, lifting her top to ghost them over her skin. "Killian... I don't think..."

Sensing her indecision, he stopped and leaned over her ever so slightly, his eyes seeking her own with such an intensity she found herself unable to breathe for a moment. "Emma, look at me. Listen: shitty things happen. They do. But we can either fret about it all day until it eats us, or we can live while we try to tame it." He paused and made a point of cocking a challenging brow at her, sighing like what he was about to say pained him. "So yes: we're going to have amazing sex and you're going to love it. No, you shouldn't feel guilty for being happy even if your pathetic excuse of an ex wants to mess with your life. Get it?" He finished with a poke to her side, making her jump.

Tangling her fingers in his hair, she brought him down to her tantalizingly slowly, her gaze never wavering from his until every inch of their bodies were pressed together. "Aye aye, captain."

* * *

"Why are we going to the studio again?" This could probably be the fifth time she asked, and she was sure he wouldn't grace her with a proper answer, but hey, what was a girl to do?

"Could you please shut up and do what you're told for once in your life, Swan?"

See?

"Ohhh, surnames basis. Touchy."

He shot her a look from behind his sunnies, a dark eyebrow clearly visible as he studied her. "You seem to be awfully chipper today. It's rather refreshing, considering you've all but mopped around since the other day."

She huffed in response, fiddling with the edge of her camisole and trying really hard not to pout or act overall like a child. Which was proving to be quite challenging, that was for sure. "Can you really blame me?"

His hand sought hers over the console, lacing their fingers together in a firm grip. Biting her lip, she turned to him as his thumb kept rubbing idle circles on the skin of her palm. "Hey: I know. But you heard what Archie said, you have to keep going on with your life; until that fucking Neal of yours doesn't give any sign of life, we're at a loss about what to do."

That was exactly what Archie had instructed her to do after their meeting the other day. Emma hadn't been too happy about it: she wanted to get this over with, one way or another, once and for all, and knowing that she'd have to wait until the asshat showed up again or tried to contact her or just freaking told her what it was that he wanted, she really couldn't do anything about it. They had given Archie the package so it could be inspected professionally, to attempt to track back where it had come from exactly, but as far as he had told her when they had called each other the following days, it was form someplace in LA. Nothing new, to be honest: if the bastard had found out where she lived, she was sure he had been roaming around to check it out. Even to take a peek at Henry and herself.

The thought made her shiver in dread.

"I hate it when you're right," she grumbled under her breath, letting her head fall against the glass of the window. Yeah, not dropping the drama queen act, not happening.

Not regretting it either.

"Which is pretty much always, huh?," he commented with a full-on smirk.

"Shut up," she replied, though she had to admit she wasn't annoyed with him. She couldn't, really. He had been too supportive, too attentive towards her since this whole mess had stormed into her life, always trying to make her stay active, pushing her to keep busy and not brood constantly at the possibility of this man ruining her life - even though they had already decided that was _not_ happening. If he wanted to mess with her, let him try. She had professionals willing to help kick his ass if needed, she had money in case she had to grudgingly pay him to get the fuck away from her life and her son's, she had a family who supported her every move and, more importantly, she had eleven years of proof of being a fit, responsible mother behind her against his _oh-shit-i-am-a-father_ card.

Yeah, buddy. Try to outdo _that_.

"But at least you could tell me what we're doing," she whined once more. She knew they were going to the studio, and she guessed the boys would be chilling in their usual place - if they weren't she just had no idea what it was they were planning then. And the last time she had been over at the studio with another surprise to fret over, they had ended up in freaking Coachella.

Yeah, call her crazy, but she wasn't really sure what to expect.

"And ruining the surprise? I don't think so. And it's too much fun to see you distress over it, love."

She narrowed her eyes in his direction, her lips thinning in annoyance. "You suck." Just as the words left her lips, she raised a finger at him, a warning in her eyes at his surely imminent innuendo. "Don't you even dare."

He barked out a laugh, hand clapping the wheel as he chortled. "Wasn't planning to."

They fought for the rest of the ride about how inappropriate would it be to add lines he and Victor liked to use too much on her and Ruby - or in each conversation they were ever engaged in, who was she kidding, - in their songs, leading to them consequently discussing those famous subliminal messages that some Disney movies had sported years ago. Killian hadn't even been aware of those, and made her promise to show them to him so he could see them and maybe, as he suggested, 'prove if they actually worked'.

What a loser.

They parked and walked hand in hand inside, and Emma caught sight of Belle typing furiously on her laptop, rebel curls framing her face in her haste. God, her hands were a blur, they moved _that_ fast. Emma was kind of fascinated with people who could type at such a speed.

Killian approached her, knocking on her desk to draw her attention, making her jump in surprise, blue enormous eyes meeting them. "Hey Belle."

"Hey guys!" The petite brunette left her chair and pushed her glasses to the top of her hair, coming to a halt in front of her for a second before she hugged her firmly, and Emma was left wondering how such a little woman could be so strong. Well, maybe dealing with that husband of hers needed proper training or something. Or she just plainly had some kind of superpower she hid under that whole sweet façade. "Emma, how are you? I heard about the whole thing, and if you need anything, you know we're here to help with whatever we can. Rumple knows who to call when dealing with creepers and all these kind of losers who'd try to use you for their own gain." She signaled towards Killian with her head. "These five have had a couple of scares here and there, so just know that we understand."

Emma nodded, silently patting herself on the back for not giggling when Belle had mentioned the creepers. It sounded so funny coming from this woman. In fact, lots of things she said made her want to let out a laugh at the hilarity of the situation. "Thank you. I'm fine, trying to keep my mind busy instead of worrying."

Killian stepped in, snaking an arm around her waist, telling Belle over her shoulder, "She's doing a crappy job nevertheless but whatever."

Emma shot him a glare, baring her teeth in his direction. "Could you just leave me alone?"

"Never," he stated, pecking her on the cheek. He stepped behind her, arms still hooked around her middle and plopping his head on the top of hers as he kept on with his conversation with Belle. "Oh hey, did you pick up that parcel they sent you the other day? Your husband and I were here when they dropped it off."

Belle's expression turned confused, eyebrow rising in question while she stepped back, leaning her back against her desk to sit on it. "A parcel? Of what?"

She felt Killian shrugging behind her. "I have no clue. Apparently you had ordered something and they mailed it here for you."

"I didn't order anything. How strange," the brunette commented, disconcerted.

Emma couldn't blame her, but this whole weird-packages being delivered lately was starting to creep her out, and she felt the need to joke her way around just to drop the subject before she started trembling, memories of the scene when she opened that box and the note peeking at her from inside flooding her mind. "Maybe it was a secret admirer's thing."

Belle snorted loudly, a glint in her eye as she looked at her, making her smile. "Yeah, right, that makes so much more sense." She shook her head, shrugging her thin shoulders in response, nearly embodying the picture of unconcern. "Seriously, I have no idea. Maybe they got it wrong but oh well."

Killian stepped back from her, taking her hand and leading her to the studio door, speaking over his shoulder to his manager's wife. "Either way, we're going in. See you later, blue eyes."

Belle's answer fading as they trudged across the building's halls in long strides, Emma drawled in an amused voice as they approached the studio, "You should consider dropping the nicknames, you're awful at them."

He seemed to come out of some kind of stupor, shaking lightly his head and flashing her a sheepish grin. "What?"

Rolling her eyes to the ceiling, she counted with her fingers. "Red Lips, now Blue Eyes..."

He dipped his face in her direction, breaths mingling as they came face to face, and shot her a smirk. "Oh, jealous that you don't have one, Goldilocks?"

With a huffed "Get out of here," she dropped his hand and pushed open the door to the studio. She saw that the rest of the band were behind the pane separating the two rooms, like they were ready to record or something, all of them wearing earphones as they played their instruments. It was Jefferson who took notice of them first, and she heard him calling the rest to stop playing. They all dropped the earphones and the guitars and bass, August and Jefferson just getting up from their seats before they all came out and joined them in the kind-of-living room they all usually hung out. "Hey Emma!"

She smiled warmly at them, hugging them all briefly when they approached her. "Hi guys."

"How are you?" Philip asked, concern clear in his voice as he stared at her closely. She buried her hands in the pockets of her jeans, rocking on the balls of her feet while she thought of a proper response - an honest one, in this case. She had been asked so many times this during this last week, she wasn't truly sure if what she was telling was truthful or not anymore. But these guys, they deserved to know.

She _trusted_ them.

"As well as I can be, but it's great to see you all," she confessed at last, in an attempt not to sound too worried or something. Checking out their expressions, she suddenly remembered her purpose here. Or the lack-of-information about it, now that she thought about it. She squared her shoulders and put her hands on her hips. "So, your frontman is being all cryptic about me being here. Which is slightly disturbing and worrying. For me. You know. Because it's him. Who knows what's going on in that head of his."

Killian rolled his eyes at her, picking up a bottle of water sitting on the table and taking a long sip before addressing her. "I feel so warm right now, thank you darling for the kind words."

"Ignore him," Victor advised her, sending his friend a shit-eating grin. Huh. Like she needed to know that - if she hadn't mastered that particular skill when it came to dealing with Killian Jones, her head would have probably exploded long ago. Or he'd be dead. Because she would have killed him. And no one would have been able to blame her about it because he'd freaking had it coming for sure.

Maybe she should just kill him so she could have a place in a _Cell Block Tango_ number...

"I try my best, I assure you," she finally answered Victor, smiling mischievously.

Jefferson clapped, interrupting them - she really was starting to see a pattern there, it was something he always did. What a curious guy. When he was sure he had the group's whole attention, he focused on Emma. "Killian told us what happened and we wanted to cheer you up. We guessed we could have a day off from the prepping of the album before we start recording, so..."

August picked it up there, a smile covering his lips as he stared at her dumbfounded expression. "...We thought it would be fun to make the Emma Show."

At the silence that followed his statement, and the expectant faces they were all shooting in her direction, she felt the need to ask, feeling completely out of her element, "... what is the Emma Show?"

Victor groaned, like he couldn't believe she was even daring to ask. "A show just for Emma. _Duh_."

"I'm lost." She really was. Like, lost-in-the-freaking-island-with-polar-bears-and-b lack-smoke lost.

Philip grabbed her by the shoulders, leading her to a chair that had been placed right in front of the window pane dividing both rooms. He pushed her lightly so she'd take a seat and then gave her one of the earphones, its wire plugged to some amazing-looking stereo and laptop - both of which she had no idea what function they had, and either way she wasn't even going to ask, so she just followed orders silently. "You'll see. You just - sit there, relax and enjoy."

They all left to go back into the proper studio, Victor making a point of waving at her ridiculously like they hadn't just been talking literally ten seconds ago when they reached their places and took back their instruments. August tapped his own earphones and then pointed at her, so she put hers over her head, adjusting them so they wouldn't be too uncomfortable, and as soon as she did, she could hear perfectly what was going on inside there, every string plucked on their guitars, the beat of the drum in Jefferson's charge. She sat there, marveled, until Victor, once more, waved at her and cleared his throat loudly, coming closer to the mic sitting in front of him.

He tapped it lightly, and they all cringed when the sound reverberated through the earphones. He smiled apologetically, and went on, curtseying mockingly in her direction. "Hi, ladies and gentle-nope, just the lady. Hi, m'lady. Welcome to the Emma Show. What you should expect: Emma Swan's personal playlist brought to you by the outstanding, shiver-inducing, panty-dropper members of The Lost Boys."

_What?!_

"Now, take a sit, hold your beer and don't lose your 3D glasses because you're in for a ride."

Emma didn't even have time to process what was going on, the wink that Killian sent her while he settled himself closer to the mic and rearranged his guitar over his chest the only thing that caught her attention before Jefferson marked their cue to start playing banging his drumsticks against each other. After that, everything was a blur. A wonderful, full of life blur, with lyrics that had touched her since she was a kid, melodies that she knew by heart and she hummed unconsciously, solos she mimicked like she knew what she was doing in case she had a guitar in her hands. Songs that had meant the world to her, that had made her fall in love with them since she had first heard them, obsessively looking for the artist and title so she could look for them and play them non stop until it was branded in her brain. Songs that had made her not feel so alone when she hadn't had anybody yet for her. Songs she had played when she felt lonely even when she had people around her.

The songs of her life.

She wasn't sure how long it was she sat there, staring ahead of her at Killian while he sang, sometimes sitting on his chair and others on his feet, his gaze seeking hers at times and smiling, inclining his head to acknowledge her. It could have been an hour, or two, or it could have been ten minutes, she didn't even care at all. To top it all, they chose as their last one the song she had declared in Coachella as her favorite from the band's concert they had all attended and when she had been lifted to the air along with Ruby and Aurora, covering it in such a breathtaking session she nearly cried out in protest when it was done.

Taking off the earphones and having a hard time to blink back tears, she got up from her seat and all but charged inside the place, running towards the first one she found - it was August - and clinging tightly to him. He returned the hug, asking her in between chuckles if she had liked it. She pulled back from him, staring up at that scruffy face of his - seriously, this guy should advertise something scruff related, there was no way such a perfect stubble could go to waste, - and nearly kicked him for asking such a stupid question. How could she have _not_ loved it? "That was _amazing_. Thank you. You shouldn't have bothered at all."

Jefferson came to stand at August's other side, and she was seriously surprised at the fondness in his words as he inclined his head in her direction and addressed her heartfelt gratitude, as she had always felt he was the most closed-off one of the group, even if she had managed to strike up a somewhat 'light' friendship with him. "We did and we loved it. And we'd do it again if it meant you'd stop worrying for a while."

Killian joined them, with Philip and Victor in his wake, and held her close to him, pressing a soft kiss to her hairline. She closed her eyes briefly, caught up in the emotions still stirring inside of her. Philip's voice brought her attention back to the band, and she fought hard to focus on him. "We know it is hard. We were nobodies at first and all of a sudden this whole world started exploding around us, and even if it's Killian who gets most of the crap because he is the pretty face and lead singer, we've all had some shit thrown our way. We understand, maybe more than your family or Ruby."

She was rendered a little shocked at his comment, but analyzing it in her head, she guessed what he said was true. She was so used to clinging and depending on her family, she hadn't even realized that these guys would probably know more about issues like the one she was facing than other people. Hell, even Graham would, but she hadn't talked to him yet - she thought he was visiting someone in Seattle, if she recalled correctly, and she hadn't wanted to bother him.

She leaned her head on Killian's shoulder, relishing in his scent before she answered Philip with a heavy breath. "I guess you do, but to be honest, I don't think it's the same. My son's father is trying to use a relationship from eleven years ago to try to get money. From an innocent child."

From what she knew, they hadn't had to deal with something like _that_, hadn't they? That she knew of, that is.

Victor spoke up then, and the conviction and rather passionate way in which he delivered his speech kind of unsettled Emma, as she was way more used to constantly-teasing-smirky Victor. "And you think this hasn't happened ever? Or something equally wrong? When most people fuck up, they at least have the guarantee that it won't be displayed on every paper and website in the world. Not famous people, though. God forbid we get a rest. Try to picture how Liv Tyler felt when she found out her real father was not Todd Rudgren, but freaking Steve Tyler. Or Anne Hathaway putting up with that Italian guy who kept that shady profile and brushed away scandal every week until she had no other choice but dumping him before he ruined her career." He paused and kicked his forehead with his palm, frustration clear in his voice. "Fuck, even the poor Twilight kids. The girl has been harassed for that affair of hers with her director since it came out."

Emma cringed, each one of those incidents opening up the part of herself where she had hidden all her anxiety and worry over the whole Neal thing threatening to open up and consume her. "I know these things happens, of course I do, I just..."

"Emma, we're not talking just about these other stars and so on. We are talking even from here," Philip declared in a solemn tone, his face carefully guarded. She frowned, her brows knitting together in confusion. Here as in... Los Angeles? Or what was he referring to?

"What do you mean?"

She whirled around to August when he spoke from behind her, arms crossed over his chest and his earlier smile fading slowly. "They mean that once, a girl I met tried something equally fishy some years ago." At her bewildered expression, he rubbed his face with his hand, letting it drop to his side tiredly. "She showed up here telling me she had a daughter and that she was mine."

Oh. My. _God_. "No," she managed to utter, completely dismayed at the thought.

They all nodded at once and answered her in unison. "Oh, yes."

"What happened?," she inquired, curiosity overriding any other emotion after his confession - trepidation, compassion, sympathy, confusion.

"Honestly? At first I was elated. I had really cared for her, and I had been devastated after leaving her - I met her in Puckett, but of course had to come back home at one point. So when she suddenly claimed I was a father, I saw a possibility of having a family with her." A tight lipped frown pulled at his usually relaxed features, and Emma braced herself for the _'oh shit'_ moment of the story. "Of course, then Gold made some research about it, probably sniffing some bullshit in there. I didn't want to believe him, but when she casually started dropping hints about child support and going back to Puckett while I stayed here working, it was time for paternity tests."

She worried at her bottom lip, eyes full of sympathy for the keyboardist who had come to be a great confidant and friend since they had run into each other at that Gala so long ago. Someone who the person she was currently in a relationship with - _seriously Emma, you need to get your shit together about admitting what you feel, this is getting old,_ - trusted with his life. Someone she had come to really care about and let inside those walls of hers. "I am so sorry, August."

He nodded sadly, accepting her words graciously. "I was too. At least I still get along with the kid whenever I can." He gave then a noncommittal shrug, probably trying to make it like it hadn't hurt so much. She recognized the signs - she was a freaking professional at masking her real emotions when dealing with something that had affected her emotionally. She was a pro. Had been for years. "But see? We all have our baggage. No one is telling you this isn't going to be nerve-wracking or hard, because it probably will, but just know we all have your back. You don't have to do this alone."

Her eyes briefly scanned her surroundings, the cozy atmosphere, the even inexistent echo, the slight hum in the air from the machines plugged to the current. She then settled to inspect the men surrounding her, the honesty in their demeanor towards her, the promise in their words. She turned to Killian, unable to hide a smile when she did. "No wonder you stay here all the time. If they give you these pep-talks and organize random shows for you to brighten you up, I would never leave this place."

They all laughed good-naturedly, and the earlier tension seemed to slowly seep out from the room, as if somehow pixie dust had poured from above and left them feeling lighter than they had been in ages. "That's why you're welcome," Philip told her with a wink.

Victor slung his bass from his shoulder and, as he propped it against his chair and set on his feet again, he called over to her with a whistle. "You still owe us a video, blondie!"

She had nearly forgotten about that. _Dammit_. Who was she kidding, Killian wouldn't let her get away with it no matter what - he even liked to tease her about having her contract in that stupid napkin. She recalled something he had mentioned about it, and clang to it desperately. "I thought until the album wasn't ready there was no video?"

Victor and Killian shared a look and chortled once again. Ugh, those two, she just knew they had gossiped like old ladies about her fright over all this video drama thing. "Just making sure you hadn't forgotten, that's all!"

"How could I, this idiot keeps reminding me all the time!" she whimpered, pointing at Killian with her thumb. She shrieked loudly when he tried to bite it with a growl. God, he was like a freaking child. She followed them to the other room, where she had been enjoying her 'private concert' of sorts, and a question she'd come up with while she was watching them earlier came to mind, making her frown and ask in a wondering tone. "How did you even find out about my playlist?"

They all halted and looked back at her. "Really, Emma? Really?," August finally questioned, raising an eyebrow as the rest of them looked too smug for their own good.

It was Victor's shoulders shaking in silent giggling - God, how old was this guy, he was worse than Henry - that set that bulb inside her head, and she let out a loud groan at the ceiling. Of course. "Fucking Ruby."

"That's what Whale does, huh?"

"JONES," they all echoed like on autopilot, making Emma dissolve into a fit of giggles at the familiarity of the situation.

Killian, for his part, dropped on the couch, looking disgruntled and snapping his mouth shut in a frustrated huff before apparently thinking better of it and proceeded to heatedly argue with his friends. "Jesus Christ, I thought this was supposed to be a free country where I could express my opinion without being judged and berated, had I known this I'd have stayed back home..."

Emma exchanged a look with August as she set herself beside Killian on the armrest of the couch, her fingers playing with a strand of his hair distractedly while he kept fighting with his bandmates, and nestling against the back cushion, she let out a contended sigh. Looking around her and what all these people had managed to pull off just to make her feel better, it was easy to believe that everything was going to be okay.

Maybe it would.

* * *

Gripping Killian's hand tightly in hers, Emma stared ahead of her, her other hand going to shield her eyes from the glaring sun. "Do you really think this is a good idea?"

"I think it is a marvelous idea," he answered cheekily, his gaze fixed at the sight in front of them, a smile curling his lips.

"Really?" She really wished she could keep the anxiety out of her voice. Where had her super acting skills gone?

"Really."

"But..."

Ignoring whoever may be watching, - with the hordes of tourists, families, couples and whatnot, caps on heads, sunglasses and backpacks ready surrounding them as they ascended the bright-colored road leading towards the main entrance of the precinct, it was difficult for them to make out of there without being recognized, - he brought her to him, crushing her against his chest until they were face to face. He rubbed his nose against hers in the softest of brushes, making her smile in response against her will. He always did these days. "Emma. We're doing this," he finally declared, sea blue stare never wavering from hers.

Lips twitching, she heard her friends behind her matching everybody's enthusiasm, words blurred in the never ending cacophony of footsteps, ambient music coming from the speakers, children screeching excitedly and parents' concerned cries as to not lose any of their kids in the crowd. Arching an eyebrow as she inspected Mary Margaret opening her trademark map to show the rest of the group her idea of itinerary, she let out a loud sigh, already dreading the long day. "And did we really need to bring the whole band too along with my family?"

He looked horrified at the prospect, eyes widening in dread and pointing at them with a wave of his hand. "And deny them the chance to come here? Are you serious? I am not that cruel," he protested vehemently, and Emma had to fight the urge to tease him for talking about his friends as if he were the responsible one taking all of them out on a trip or something. He briefly scanned the group they'd assembled for the day, catching sight of the three infants who kept squealing, pointing to anything and everything in every direction around of them and unable to mask their enthusiasm at the day they had ahead of them. "And it's been forever since Gracie came, and now she's here with Henry and Bae." He turned his face towards her once more, leaning in so he could nip lightly on her earlobe playfully. "Come on. We're going to have so much fun." **_  
_**

She flashed a grin in the kids' direction, noticing that Bae and Henry seemed to have gotten along since they had been introduced an hour earlier when they had all met in the band's studio to hit the road and arrive at the same time to the park. It had been all Ruby and Mary Margaret's idea, - with Henry's help, of course, - who were proud members of the I-am-an-adult-who-spends-her-free-time-in-Disneyla nd-and-I-won't-apologize-for-it, and had pleaded with her to join them for a day in the resort. Emma knew they were doing it to keep her busy, and she was grateful for it, even if it was true that when they had mentioned it to Killian, David and the rest of the band, they had all jumped at the opportunity too quickly for her taste.

But well, who knew with these guys? They did act like they were five-year-olds on a sugar high, so she couldn't really know...

Fiddling nervously with the pendant hanging from her neck, she let the uncertainty show in her voice. The fact that she'd let him hear it was enough to make her marvel at how she had progressed since they had gotten together, but alas, in a moment like this where she needed him to understand she wasn't still 100% positive about this idea, she really didn't care about sounding nervous. "But... aren't we like a proper spectacle by itself, by being all of us in here? It's like we're waving a flag up on our heads with big letters saying _'LOOK AT US'_"

Though she could begrudgingly admit to herself that, no matter what they did, her best friend would always end up being the center of attention no matter what she did. Every time they had come to Disneyland together, most of the characters stopped to talk to her and got her in some kind of shenanigans, prompting curious visitors to take out their cameras and record whatever it was she was doing.

"And that's the whole purpose of this, isn't it?"

...was it? Was this why he had been so open to the idea in the first place? Had he been talking to David, of all people, because they had agreed it would be a great plan? Was she overanalyzing anything before he even told her?

"Is it?," she finally managed to ask.

Killian nodded, not a trace of doubt in his expression, adjusting his sunglasses over his eyes. "Of course. This will make whatever blog or paper you want - and I bet Neal will see them. By being out, with your friends, your family, your son, you're stating you're not afraid of him."

"And you," she weakly said, turning her eyes downcast at her sudden addition. She hadn't even planned to say it, yet something had propelled her to do it. She had no control over herself whatsoever when it came to him, or so it appeared.

If he whined about her making a sap out of him, she wasn't far behind.

_Ugh_. At least the sex was great.

Who was she kidding, everything was great.

Oh God, she was a sap too.

"Me what?," he asked, thankfully interrupting her more than troubling thoughts concerning their relationship and level of sappiness, his frown burrowed in question.

She exhaled heavily, looking up at him under her lashes and biting her lip, feeling like a teenager sharing her feelings with her first crush. "I'm here with you, too. Not just my friends or my son."

She ran a hand along his forehead to swipe a sweaty strand of hair, and as it passed in front of his face, he took it in his and quickly kissed her palm, his eyes closing for a moment. "Well, there you are. Now, how about that smile?"

She scrunched up her nose, rolling her eyes. He had been bugging her nonstop about her smiling instead of brooding 'like a spoiled child' - she knew he said that just to piss her off, but sometimes he'd get a real punch just for being such a pain in the ass to her. Hell hath no fury like an enraged woman. "It's going to hurt to fake-smile for so long."

"Who said you would be faking?," he said, taking her chin in his fingers and tapping his lips with them softly, proving that she was, indeed, smiling.

Oh, the possibilities of that line. "To let it slide or not...," she commented, smirking evilly at him. See? He wasn't the only one allowed to innuendo everything that came out of his mouth.

For now, they could say that stakes were something like this:

Emma - 1, Killian - 8374273528452426. Not bad.

He guffawed, looping an arm around her waist and pulling her close to him, whirling them around so they could join the group, who were still examining Margaret's map and apparently waiting for Ruby, who had mysteriously run to the bathroom as soon as they had entered the enclosed area of the park. "Look at you, you're being me! I am so proud."

They approached their friends, David shaking his head at Emma over his fiancés head in amusement at the glee in the petite girl's eyes and frantic words explaining every tiny detail and tip they should follow so they could get to see the most of the things the park had to offer in a day. Before she could ask her what was their game plan, Ruby showed up behind her, poking her side playfully with a bag she was carrying. When Emma jumped in surprise - and about to call her really ugly names in a hushed voice so the little ones wouldn't hear her for tickling her, - she noticed the Disney decor of the bag.

Oh, no.

"Ruby, NO."

"YES!" Ruby was already laughing and taking out Mickey and Minnie ears from the bag, passing them around and fixing them over everybody's heads. God, she would never let it go, would she?

"No way," August declared, eyes going wide when he was passed his pair, examining them carefully.

Jefferson wasn't looking better, picking the ears up like they were going to bite him. "Aren't we a bit grown-up for these?"

Ruby - or Minnie Ruby - seized her hips with her hands, pouting at them. Did she really think that would work?

...okay, maybe it would. Probably. Sure. At least for a while, but then it'd happen the same as it always did: they'd all take them off, one by one, and they'd ask whoever had brought purses or bags to put them away for them until they left. Easy as pie.

"Nope. You should have chosen another name for your band if you knew you couldn't keep up and face the consequences!"

This was becoming beyond ridiculous at this point.

Albeit she had to admit she was having trouble not laughing at everybody's reactions: from the purest delight from Henry, Bae and Grace (and Mary Margaret, who snatched hers from Ruby's hands with a near growl and putting it over her pixie cut like it was some kind of tiara), to horrified glances exchanged between the musicians. Her brother, on the other hand, didn't even bat an eyelash, completely used to Ruby's tradition whenever they visited the park. So was Emma for that matter. She just reluctantly picked hers up when Ruby offered them to her with a flourish, and placed in over her hair with a sigh.

Henry simply ran to her, ears perched on his hazel locks and toothy grin permanently stuck on his face. He had come back home after she had calmed down, talked to Archie and settled her things in order a couple of days later the 'incident', and hadn't pried at what was it that had made her send him away to Regina's for the weekend, probably sensing she'd either lie to him about it or maybe afraid that it'd trigger another slight panic attack or something. Either way, she had been so glad to have him over at home and by her side where she could make sure he was under her watchful eye, they had spent every moment they could together since then, along with her family and Killian.

Until they had proposed they spent the day at Disneyland, that was.

"Mom! Where are we going first?," he asked, coming to a halt in front of her, Bae hot on his heels. She had been quite curious about Belle and Mr. Gold's son, when Killian had told her he'd asked Belle to let the boy join them. She had all but accepted right then just to see if he looked anything like his parents. She should have expected such a well-mannered, passionate and overall sweet kid, quite like his mother, though apparently he threw quite the tantrums when he didn't get his way - much like his father, as the band had assured her. They both looked up at her expectantly.

...why were they asking her? Did she look like a tour guide or what?

Brushing her hands on her jeans impatiently, she kneeled in front of them just as Grace joined her side, putting a hand on her leg and smiling at her. "Well, where do you want to go?"

"To visit the castle!" Aurora proposed, bouncing on her feet.

Bae and Henry had other ideas. "The Haunted Mansion!"

"Pirates of the Caribbean!" Of course, the whole Lost Boys company wanted to go to the ride which felt closer to their namesake, even though she guessed it'd make more sense if they went to the Peter Pan one...? Or was it just because of the pirate thing?

Again, she blamed Johnny Depp.

She all but let out a groan to the sky in defeat. Done. She was 300% done. "I was asking the kids, you know," she chastised them, trying really hard not to laugh at their self-conscious expressions. She just opted for shaking her head at them, arms crossed across her chest like she was disappointed in their behavior, and grabbed Grace's hand in hers, leading her towards the castle so they could start their journey.

It was clear from the moment they hit Main Street that they should follow Mary Margaret's instructions, as she had suggested earlier: she was a freaking connoisseur of the whole park, she visited it every couple of months or something, it was _insane_. Though it was proving to be quite useful, as she knew exactly what itinerary they should follow concerning the rides they were about to go to, avoiding big lines, using the FastPass system and overall knowing every tip and detail of the complex, including places and times to meet the characters or see the parades.

At one moment, Emma had to physically restrain Victor when they overheard a conversation between Henry and Grace, him whining about how sad it was there was no Alice in Wonderland's garden in this park in particular - they had visited the one in Paris once when he was younger, and he had loved it, - knowing how much she liked the movie and claiming how they would be able to _'ditch all of these in the labyrinth'_. Emma had anticipated Victor's lewd comment and had to practically tackle him just so he'd let the two kids in peace. **_  
_**

"Young love in Disneyland, the perfect love story," as Aurora had dubbed it dreamily, sighing enamored with the idea.

They managed to not have to wait too much in most of the rides they went to, even though when they exited "It's A Small World" (after a huge row with the guys, who had complained loudly about how it was such a cheesy and stupid ride, but had gone in anyway and sang along the obnoxious song like the rest of them) they had realized Bae was missing, and Emma had had to go with Killian to check out the little office where the children who ended up lost in between the crowd from their parents or families were taken. Funnily enough, they called the central office "The Lost Boys' place" or something like that, and they found Bae sitting in a couch between two enormous stuffed Mickeys and watching The Lion King while he waited for them to pick them up.

She had been quite frazzled by the whole incident for a while, probably after the Neal thing trying to maybe take Henry from her just to get to her, so she had hugged Belle's son to her chest tightly, not daring to let go from his hand until they reunited with the rest of the group and the kid joined Henry and Grace, telling wonders about the little place in 'Neverland' he had gotten to visit under the impressed stares of his friends. Killian had had to grip her hand so she'd stop tugging on her necklace, and she hadn't let herself relax again until he had stared at her, completely puzzled, wondering aloud why in hell did he have glitter on his hands.

Her poor blue star suffered from her anxiety too much, and the glitter was starting to rub off on her fingers. He had it coming, just for giving it to her. It was not her fault. At all.

Of course they had to revisit Pirates of the Caribbean - and in fact, they decided they should have lunch in the restaurant too, just to keep the pirate-theme day or whatever crap the musicians and David fed them - and the Tea Cups that her friends and she adored since they had been there first years ago. She found out there before they rode it how some of the rides were completely off limits to some of them, when Mary Margaret, in all her expertise, had asked if there was some of them they wouldn't ride at all.

At that point, Grace, Killian, Victor, Philip and August had turned to Jefferson, with matching concerned and amused stares on their faces. The drummer had shuffled on his feet, feigning surprise. "Why are you all looking at me?"

"We heard you'd rather die than go on the Indiana Jones one?" Mary Margaret asked, patting his arm sympathetically. He sent a murderous glance towards his bandmates, all but grumbling threats under his breath at the snickering they all had going on at his expense.

"They shouldn't be laughing so much if we started talking about the incident in the Tea Cups, huh, Victor?"

"Don't you dare..."

Ruby had had to step in at the moment, the only one wearing her Minnie ears apart from Grace and Henry (even Bae had quit at that point; she was starting to like this kid, even if he had this habit of disappearing and nearly giving her a heart attack) to stop them from bickering further. "Alright, cowboys. We get it. Moving on."

Killian made sure to take her and Henry on a ride in the Peter Pan one at last, the flying vessel across the painted London sky marveling her and her son and sending a tingling warmth through her spine. They shared their seats with Henry between them, her son pointing at everything excitedly and exchanging details of the book with Killian, who was kind of an expert on Barrie's tale, of course, more than eager to correct him or share his enthusiasm with her, all but making her grin in the process just by looking at them interacting like they had known each other for ages rather than weeks.

Mary Margaret had expressed how difficult it was to try to meet most of the characters and hit every ride in one day (because, of course, she had tried; she was such a Disney groupie, for fuck's sake), but they were lucky enough to run into some of them while they waltzed around Princess Fantasy Faire and Pixie Hollow: Emma had had to have her picture taken when they met Rapunzel - and Ruby showed her her costume at their party, to her utmost embarrassment, - and Peter Pan made sure to try to teach all of them how to fly, despite grinning knowingly in the guys' direction stating how some of them surely knew the secret behind it because they were proper inhabitants of Neverland.

And of course, under Mary Margaret's orders, they all had to try Disneyland food's extraordinaire: the corn dog sold at the little red cart near the Plazza Inn. As they say on Yelp: The. Best. Corn. Dog. Ever.

Evening catching up on them, they decided to set off the day with the fireworks. They chose to stand between two light posts on Main Street, where they could see the castle projections and the hub pyrotechnics just fine. They all rolled up five minutes before show time and found a spot, instead of trying to get into the hub or in front of the castle, as it'd prove to be practically impossible - and probably not worth it, Mary Margaret's words.

They stood there, huddled together waiting and commenting on everything they had gone through the day, when a sudden flash illuminated the sky. Emma's back straightened, and startled, surprised, when a couple of arms embraced her from behind, letting her head lean over Killian's shoulder as the dazzling show commenced. Fountains, fireworks, projectors, lasers, fire and music blasting from the speakers, all combined for a spectacle she hadn't remembered she had enjoyed so much since the last time she had been there. Before it was over, though, Killian moved from her, awkwardly taking out his phone from his jacket's pocket and receding a bit to take it. She shrugged, going back to enjoy the last minutes of the fireworks, now leaving a smoky, shiny track in the sky, like a shooting star would do in its wake.

When it was done and they all were finished clapping enthusiastically, she saw Killian coming back, frowning. She came to stand before him, cupping his cheek in her hand. "Killian? Are you okay?"

"I-"

Henry interrupted them, coming to a halt in front of her, nearly breathless. "Mom. Uncle David's calling for you - it's Archie."

No way. No fucking way right now they'd have any news. Turning terrified eyes in Killian's direction, he had smoothed his features into a calm mask, nodding at her encouragingly and pushing her towards David, not letting go of her hand as they went to meet her brother.

Meeting her eyes, David let out a sigh of relief and held the phone to her, voice full of concern. "Here. He's been trying to contact you but you weren't picking up."

"My battery died, sorry," she quickly explained, snatching it from his hand and settling it against her ear in flash speed. "Hey, Archie."

"Emma. I've got news." Archie's voice sounded calm and collected, yet she couldn't be sure in this whole crowd of people surrounding her.

"What is it?"

"Your ex boyfriend - he contacted us. In fact, we managed to get a hold of him this morning, but he didn't look at all surprised about it, he wasn't trying to hide at all or anything. He even commented something about you being busy today - I'd bet he was tracking the web and found pictures of you guys on your trip out." Of course he would, just as Killian and the rest had predicted, she thought impressed. She focused on his voice once more, nails in her free hand leaving marks on her skin as she waited for him to continue, "Anyway, when one of my colleagues went to pay him a visit, he asked for a meeting with you to discuss his terms."

Emma felt herself take gulps of breath loudly, afraid of another panic attack in the horizon. "What terms? What do you mean?"

"He said he wanted to be a part of Henry's life as his father."

* * *

_**Hi y'all! Long time no see, huh?**_

_**Sorry for the long wait, but as I said last chapter, finals weeks + countless projects to turn in. No fun. **_

_**Anyway, here it is. Now - finally! - we know what was behind Emma's past with Henry's father and some of her issues when it came to him are now out. And creepy stuff going on. **_

_**Who doesn't love creepy packages, calls and overall people, huh? **_

_**As for Emma's playlist, I may have thought about making it more than I should. Sigh. I just love my baby so much. I'll give you a lin if it happens!**_

_**On a funny note, Bae getting lost = me when I was 8. In Disneyland Paris. Not so fun when everybody leaves you behind and go all "Home Alone" while getting on the Pirates of the Caribbean's boat... but hey, I got to stay in TLB's lair! :)**_

_**Until next one, hopefully back to the usual one weekly chapter! :) Love you all and thank you for all your kind reviews, messages, favorites, alerts, and keysmashing.**_

_**Special thank you for Cee for being my awesome beta (I heart you bb you and your cherries and Tudors feels) and Col and Hilary for being my spirit animals.**_

_**PS: This chapter belongs to Puddle of Mudd's "Radiate" and Bastille's "What Would You Do". That's it. That's the chapter. (they own meeee!)**_


	26. Chapter 26: Until It Hurts

**_Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or Once Upon A Time - the trolls Edward Kitsis and Adam Horowitz do. If I did, I'd make them canon faster than lighting._**

* * *

Shaking his head from left to right, Killian made sure it was safe to cross the street before carefully maneuvering his car to the parking lot of the dark building standing in front of him. He wasn't too familiar with the place itself - he had had to look for it beforehand, since he hadn't had any choice as to come here.

He had been summoned, or so it seemed.

Alas, his impending meeting could be quite the match to another eventful one he had been part of that same week. Apparently, his and Emma's lives had decided to become truly memorable as of late, with all the crazy they were experiencing lately - and it didn't look like it was going to stop anytime soon.

It sucked.

After that call from Pongo's owner - Archie, whatever, - Emma had been frazzled enough to want to come back home and attempt to drown some kind of chill pill to knock her out until she had to face the asshole that had left her so many years ago. He had known - how could he not? She was too easy to read for him, always had been, - and had offered her if she wanted to leave immediately, but she had refused, and they had somehow made it through the rest of the day along with their friends and family. She had kept on her brave face for Henry's sake, though Killian had been on edge the whole time just in case she had some kind of breakdown or something.

They needn't have bothered. It was Emma they were talking about, after all. The toughest lass he had ever met.

Though Killian had to admit that, for a little while, during that first encounter they had with her ex lover, he did see a side of Emma that he had never imagined he would.

They had agreed with Archie in meeting him and Neal in his office a couple of days later, getting ready for whatever the wanker might want to throw at her face. Emma had made sure to let Killian know she wanted him there, and he of course had been more that eager to accompany her - not only to support her, though it was the main reason. He was incredibly curious as to what this Neal guy was like, and how someone who had claimed to love and care for her would leave her in such a shameful way. Finally, they had to face the music, and he stood to the side when Emma and Neal first crossed looks in years.

He wasn't sure what he should have expected, but well, let's say he had been pretty surprised.

Albeit whatever it was that Emma had found compelling in the man back when she was a young girl, he had been far more thrown off when he noticed her and how she acted when they started the meeting. Neal Cassidy had been too cocky, too sure of himself for Killian's taste - even if he had seemed a tad apologetic when Emma spat venomously at him something about abandonment issues when he had started the topic while trying to impose his 'father figure' towards Henry. It hadn't been until their son was brought up that Emma had been squeamish, unsure, reverting to a completely different version of herself that he would have never pegged for someone like her. Killian knew enough about the story to realize now how the shock and hurt of being right in front of the man who had caused so much pain and betrayal in her life would trigger her into bringing out the young Emma who had been around the man back in the day, a younger, more naive and full of hope girl.

Who had been broken - by the same man who then sat in front of them, casually demanding to be a part of Henry's life.

Of course Emma had made clear she had no intention of letting him near her son, not now and not ever. A rather difficult to follow and complex word war regarding parenting, law and custodies had ensued, and that was when Killian - and surely Emma, of course - realized, as they had feared, that Neal was playing the betrayed father part who hadn't had the opportunity to raise or meet his son and wanted to be there for him and play a role in his life - just so he'd get the prize. Of course he'd casually drop the children care, which was the last draw for Emma who, before storming off Archie's office, let her ex know in the most threatening voice he'd ever heard her use _"you'd better lawsuit up - you're not getting anywhere near my son."_

Killian had followed her out and taken her to his place after that, bullying her into eating some chocolate so she'd stop frowning and muttering under her breath anything and everything she apparently had been too thrown off to say when she had been face to face with Neal - though now that he thought about it, he wasn't sure it would have been really professional, taking into account Archie would have been there too and all. They had sat together for a long time, both of them lost in thought, until Archie had called her phone to warn her that Neal had accepted and they would be seeing each other again, this time fighting for real: for Henry's custody. Of course Neal would never be able to get fully custody of the boy, but Emma wasn't willing to let him have anything to do with her son, not if it would be to gain something from her. If she truly saw that Neal was interested in being a parental figure at all, or even seemed like he remotely cared about Henry, then she would consider at least some kind of monthly visit or something, but she was completely opposed to the idea of leaving her son out of her sight with the man who had broken her - and who didn't look like had changed that much in all this time. Archie had assured her that everything pointed to her ending up victorious, as Neal's case was poor as they were; and to calm down and try to stay focused on her work and being there for Henry, and he would take care of everything until they organized the proper hearing and all the law stuff Killian was so confused by.

After her attorney's words, something seemed to snap inside Emma, and she finally let herself break down, the tension and panic she had festered inside of her for the last week overwhelming and nearly drowning her slowly pouring out of her body, leaving the shell of a broken, sad girl who had had to relive the worst time of her life and threatened by the man who took it from her in the first place. Killian held her against him until her sobs morphed to a quiet sniffing, and he made sure to make a light quip about her keeping his shirt after she had ruined it with her snot, earning him a punch in the arm - though it was far lighter that the ones she usually gave him.

And they had known that it would be okay.

At least from that front.

He hadn't wanted to tell Emma anything about where he was going right then, or the phone call he had received when they had been in Disneyland right before they were told Neal had contacted Archie. There had been too many things going on, and he hadn't wanted to worry her more than she already was. Alas, he had been instructed not to tell anybody where he was going or who he was meeting, for starters. He had been given an address and a time and place to be there, and even if Killian himself would have probably laughed it off or tell whoever it had been on the other side giving him such cryptic instructions to shove it already and leave him the fuck alone, his blood had run cold when he heard that he would do it '_if he wanted his dirty secret to be kept as it was'_.

Thus, him being in the creepy building today.

He got out of the car, cautiously studying his surroundings and still trying to figure out who the hell could it be behind all of this. He had been raking his brain for the last days whenever he was not worrying about Emma and the whole Neal situation trying to piece together what it would come down to now - who he'd meet, and what would it mean after they talked. Because he was pretty sure it wouldn't be easy, nor pleasant. At least for Killian.

He made his way to the front door and after looking for the nearly hidden buzzer by its side, he waited for someone to open up. He checked his phone nervously, wondering what his mates would be doing. He had made sure they didn't have any plans for that evening just in case, and so had been the case with Emma - he had casually dropped how she would have fun along with Red Lips and Belle in some pub near the studio where the band had played a couple of months ago, and after teasing her about how come she didn't enjoy her girls nights out anymore, she had caved, always making it look like it had been her idea in the first place. Which it hadn't, of course - he had all but incepted her, but hey, he wasn't complaining. It had been his idea all along, after all.

He was brought out of his musings when there was a buzz and he pushed the door open. Stepping inside the threshold, he scanned left and right to find no one waiting for him, and he furrowed his brow in confusion. What the bloody hell was this? After all the sneaky calls and creepy indications now they stood him up?

"Why, hello, Mr. Jones."

Nearly jumping out of his skin, Killian whirled around to find a man disturbingly familiar smiling at him. "You," he said, a faint memory of the delivery man who had been at the studio with a package for Belle suddenly coming to mind.

The - what the hell was he? Not a delivery man, that was for sure - whoever it was winked at him and motioned towards one of the halls that parted from where they stood. "Care to accompany me?"

Did he really have a choice?

He was led through a myriad of luxuriously carpeted and furnished hallways and lobbies, a maze masked in elegant décor that did nothing to qualm Killian's nerves. They stopped in front of an oak door, and after knocking, a faint acknowledgment from inside was heard, and his guide opened for him, shaking his head at Killian so he'd enter. Bracing himself, he breathed deeply before stepping inside the room - to come to a halt seconds after doing so at the sight of who was sitting behind the desk waiting for him.

"Why am I not surprised you have somehow orchestrated all of this?," he nearly growled, trying to appear controlled just so she wouldn't notice the inner turmoil that was festering inside of him at her sight and the implications of what she could want with him to call this meeting.

"Well, I was always one for crafting plans, as you know." She sent him a sweet smile that did nothing but make him warier than he had earlier been. That was one of the things he had found so intriguing about her once: how beautiful, charming and sweet as she could appear, it all came iced with a layer of poison and edge that would attack you if you dared to cross her. And he had, for all that was worth in her eyes. "Hello Killian."

He sat in front of her, on the other side of her meticulously tidy desk. "Milah. What is it you want?"

She lazily caressed some papers sitting in front of her, the scratching of her painted nails making him flinch while he studied her. "Oh, you know. I overheard a little word concerning you and your barbie at Coachella that got me thinking... so I did a little, ah, 'investigation'."

Oh. Fuck. No.

"What are you talking about?" he questioned her, half taunting, half genuinely curious - and afraid. What the hell had she done? And what could have she possibly heard in Coachella? They hadn't talked about anything concerning the deal in there, right? Unless they had followed maybe some of their friends? He knew Red Lips and Victor had been gossiping non stop about how they had known he and Emma would eventually give in to the sexual tension and 'get it on' already, and surely the rest of the band had commented on it too, so... was it so difficult to believe that, if she had been paying enough attention to them, she could have caught something about it?

Fuck it all to hell.

But that was it - maybe she had heard something, but she didn't have any proof about anything. She could be just swinging in the dark, looking for anything that might hurt him and Emma, but she wouldn't be able to pull it off. However, that investigation she claimed she had done wasn't sitting well with him.

She passed a hand through her curls, pushing them away from her face impatiently. "Oh, nothing, really. A couple of friends of mine here and there, who, look at that! Told me all about your precious deal with Miss Swan."

He furrowed his brow. The delivery man. He had been in the studio that day, but he wasn't sure what he had been doing when he run into him.

"I have no clue what you're talking about."

She arched an eyebrow, promptly bending to open up a drawer at her right to carefully place a recorder over the papers she had been reading. "Don't you?"

Killian gulped loudly, swearing to himself he hadn't been this scared for years. He had no idea what he was about to listen to, but spying Milah's satisfied expression he was positive it wasn't one of his songs.

And then, Gold's voice came from the recorder, and he swore under his breath, flinching lightly as bits from their conversation came to mind while it played in the eerily silent room.

_"Just a warning - in case something would happen between you and Miss Swan, any kind of problem which couldn't be solved at some point, then the whole contract would go down with it, as I'm sure you can guess, right?"_

_"Yeah, I guess it would be too devastating to pose as a couple if we were miserable after a breakup." _

_"Exactly."_

A loud click resounded when Milah pressed the stop button, a clear statement about the debate being open to discussion, he was sure; but he kept his head down, not daring to look at her and opting to studiously ignore her presence. He bit his lip, reflecting and trying to find a coherent way to run from this with the minimal collateral damage possible. For him and for Emma.

It didn't appear like Milah was about to let him deliberate too much about it without offering her oh-so-not-helpful-nor-needed input. "I gotta admit you were pretty convincing - but I knew the truth. I knew you wouldn't go into a serious commitment, not after us."

It was these words, thrown away so carelessly and dripping of smugness and confidence that got him to the edge of his seat, a fist slamming against the desk loudly managing to rattle her so carefully settled arrange of paperwork. "Who the fuck do you think you are? Do you think you can come back barging into my life and ruin it? _Again_, may I say?"

He could say he was surprised that she hadn't even flinched at his harsh words and sudden rage, but he wasn't. This was Milah, she survived by not letting anybody get to her and facing the sharks of the big industries who attempted to knock off her husband's empire every day. He was no match for those.

Although she may not had counted with an enraged musician before.

A sudden memory of Emma teasing him about writing a mean song about her the night of the Gala popped into his head without warning, and he had the mad urge to start giggling maniacally or something equally nuts. How could he be thinking about her when he was in this mess?

Easy - she was pretty much _always_ on his mind lately. Always there, in a corner, waiting when he wasn't aware of it, unless he took her out to play while memories and images of her would tease him.

Milah's voice broke his reverie, and it felt like a mirror breaking in front of him, his and Emma's reflection gone and in pieces at his feet. "I'm not ruining anything. _You_ are."

The fact that she dared to blame him - why did everybody blame him for that matter? - enraged him, and he felt himself curling his hands into fists, trembling lightly at his sides. Was it so easy to pass the baggage to his shoulders? Had he a freaking sign over his forehead or what?

"What do you want?," he all but growled.

She didn't go around the bushes or talked in riddles. That had never been Milah's style. She was quite direct in everything she did and wanted, always had been - she just laid everything out, straightforward. Bandaid ripped off. There. "I want you to be honest with her."

He should have known the bandaid would hurt like a motherfucker.

"I _am_ being honest with her," he declared adamantly. _How could I not, I am in love with her, for fuck's sake,_ he thought to himself, tapping the pads of his finger against the wood of the table in a show to appear nonchalant when he all but felt like throwing himself out of a window.

_You really have the best times to realize what the hell you feel, Jones_.

"Oh, I bet you are," she sarcastically acknowledged, before tapping her fingers against the wooden desk, earning his attention once again. "You've two choices here, Killian: either you leave her... or everybody will find out about your little contract," she told him, very matter-of-factly as she counted with her fingers dramatically, like it was all a game to her. Like she wasn't ruining him, what he had. What he had found, what had practically _saved_ him. The outrage and panic consuming and overwhelming him at the unfairness of it all felt like a fire blooming in his chest, flames licking every inch of his skin, and he could almost feel sweat already forming on his brow and slipping down his face. He was having trouble breathing, and he could all but glare at the woman who had meant more to him in a time of his life he had ever felt himself capable of. "I don't care about the deal anymore. Don't you see? I care about her, and she cares about me. It is real."

"Does she? Then I'm sorry you'll have to break things up with her. Because if you _do_ care for her, you will," she said, and there was that sliver of pride that'd always wedged into her voice, startling him even more because she was not only threatening his band and Emma's reputation - but breaking someone's heart.

Not only his - but Emma's. She was way more important than him in all of this.

He tried to play his pokerface, lacing his fingers together on his lap so she wouldn't notice the slight trembling in them. "Why are you so sure?"

She barked out a laugh - a cruel, cold sound, not at all like the ones she had once shared with him whenever he tickled her or they had spent time together laughing and joking. "How do you think people will react to finding out you two cheated and lied to everybody just to get you on better ground with the public? What will people think of precious Emma Swan, golden girl, who has charmed the whole planet when they learn she has been playing a part for her sake? Do you think it'll do her any good? And don't get me started on your band. Would you be able to look at them in the eye after this goes all to hell - again, because of you?"

He couldn't hide his shock when she said it. It echoed in his head, over and over again, not believing she would be such a bitch. He couldn't believe this was happening.

"They wouldn't. They knew what we were getting into when we signed that deal."

She sniffed at him, seemingly unfazed by his statement. "A deal crafted to try to save what you had broken."

"Because of you," he said, his voice dangerously low.

"Oh, you. Always coming back to me. See? This is why you should have never left me." she taunted, and he glared right back at her.

At this point he was sure anyone would be able to see the smoke pouring off his every pore, he was _that_ pissed off. This was all she had to say for herself after she had been the one to break their relationship - whatever it had been for her? It was clear to him it hadn't meant the same for her than for him, or if he had ever doubted about it, now she was more than letting it out in the open for him to see. "I left you? _You_ were the one who decided not to be with me, to stay with your family and leave me out of your life."

"You gave me no choice," she replied with an unconvincing shrug.

His teeth clenched uncomfortably, almost making him wince. "There's always a choice," he stated sharply.

That made her pause for a moment, studying him intently, and he could swear he saw her eyes softening - but it was gone as soon as it showed. She shook her head, a hand coming up to pet her curls into place, and settled her unwavering gaze on him once more. Back to business. Back to blackmail. "Which leads us to yours. Now, what will it be: your silly crush on this girl, or her happiness and your band's?" she said sarcastically, and he stared at her in return.

"What do you get out of this?"

She startled at his question, almost as if she herself hadn't considered what she was gaining with all of this fucked up stunt she was pulling. Her brow burrowed and her expression turned conflicted, and for the span of a few seconds he could spy a shadow of the woman he had fallen for. "You know, as much as you may not believe me, I do love you. I was devastated after what happened - and you have to understand what it was like to have to make such a painful decision. Now you are too. I'm sure you have blamed me for all these months, telling yourself what a bitch I was, but you have to realize that not everything is black and white. And sometimes we have to choose between what we want and what needs to be done. And of course, I'm not going to lie - watching you with her has been painful enough, I'll admit knowing you're free again might help," the tone of her voice was reminiscent to her loving and caring cadence from his days together.

"You do realize I'll never forgive you for this, and I'd preferably cut my hand before coming back to you, right?" he snarled at her, and the spite in his words tasted good, though unfamiliar, on his tongue.

The earlier soft, reminiscing and almost remorseful side that she had let out earlier now completely gone, she cocked an eyebrow at him, a thin-lipped smile sent his way. "Oh, I know you'll be pissed alright. But give it time." She stood from her chair, tossing her curls over her shoulder in a tiredly manner and walking past him to the door. She stood by after opening it, cocking her head to the side, not-so-subtly inviting him to leave her office. He didn't need be told twice, he was more than eager to leave this goddamn place already. While he was walking by her, she touched his arm, and he yanked it from her grasp with a growl. Their eyes met, and he wondered once more what could have possibly happened to her that she would find the least amount of pleasure in ruining his relationship with Emma - or the urge to make him choose between her or her reputation and his band's. Tearing his gaze from hers, he stepped out from the room, his feet propping him to get the fuck away from there, pronto, a faraway corner of his brain wondering if he'd even be able to find his way in all those hallways he had navigated earlier with the fake delivery man's - Greg?. Milah's voice came from behind then, but he didn't even dare to stop, not now. He had heard enough, but she had always been one for dramatics, and she was not about to change, not now, and not for another one of her games.

"You've got two weeks. And your barbie can't know of _anything_ of this, of course."

* * *

Tick tock.

A day, two days, three days. A week. A week and a half. A week and five days. A week and six days.

The deadline kept nagging, pursuing him with cold and unrelenting fingers, a shadow that passed over his eyes whenever he was reminded about it, while he tried to cherish the moments he spent along with Emma, with Henry, with her family. With both of their families.

Watches, clocks on the wall, cuckoo birds chirping behind window panes, - the unmistakable ticking haunting and never letting him go, like a mantra going over and over in his head. Time was running out.

_You have a choice to make._

Why was it that whenever you wanted the clock to stop working, for time to go slower, stretch, and somehow make the inevitable to never come it always ended up mocking you, coming even earlier than expected? Time was playing with him.

Tick, tock.

The clock was getting louder, ready for him to decide.

* * *

He didn't know how long he waited inside his car, parked in front of Emma's place, counting in his head everything he could.

8 trees on each side of the street.

11 cars parked on the right, 14 on the left.

6 songs he had heard on the radio on his way there.

264 ticks of the clock since he had stopped the car and started counting.

16 hours since he had last kissed Emma.

He'd spent many hours, days in these two weeks, sitting on his bed, or at his desk, staring at nothing, just straight ahead, fighting the urge to throw everything around him against the wall, wondering if the crunching and breaking and knocking down would bring him any relief, any sort of comfort at his impossible situation.

How could he make it all away? He was completely tangled in a net he was not coming out of anytime soon, - his happiness, Emma's and his band's out of reach.

His clock read 20:39 when he finally got out of the car and marched to her front door, knocking and waiting for her to let him in. He had called earlier to tell her he'd be coming over, and she had been pleased about the offer, seeing as Henry was at David and Mary Margaret's that night, along with Nana. He felt a pang of sadness when he realized she most surely thought they'd spend the night watching a movie, eating popcorn and laughing at the clichés displayed on the chick flick she would have picked, and probably ignoring the end by getting to the bedroom or the shower instead. The fact that he knew for a fact that it wouldn't go that way almost sent him running back to his car and driving back home.

"Hey. What's up?"

No such luck, though.

Emma stood in front of him, opening the door for him to enter and follow her inside, making herself at home on the couch and patting her side so he'd take a seat. He did, carefully avoiding to touch her - which he was sure she would find completely out of character, as she was constantly whining about his never ending grabbing her complex. They had dubbed it his 'caveman complex', and she teased him endlessly, mimicking caveman lines whenever he snaked his arms around her or caressed her every time he passed by her side: _'me grab you', 'me and hand best friends', 'me cannot stop manhandling blondie'_.

The memory not managing to bring a smile to his lips was a pretty telling sign of the state in which he was, knowing what was about to happen - what was about to fallout between both of them.

The dreaded words anyone in a relationship has ever feared hearing escaped his lips, ad he was sure Emma noticed his mood as soon as he did.

"We need to talk."

He said it casually, or tried to, anyway, but he was sure that Emma had known him long enough to catch the ring of anxiousness among the other, sweeter and _Jones-ish_ chimes.

She sat straighter at his right, and cocked her head to the side, studying him intently. "You have been acting weird these past days." She stared at him with a look he couldn't quite read, which was strange, and sort of startled him. Finally, she sighed, and started talking quite in a rush, so fast he had a hard time grasping everything she was saying. "I have been trying to be patient and wait for you to tell me what it was, and I know I have been completely out of it with all of the Neal mess, and I can't thank you enough for being there for me, but now I'm scared that I may have been ignoring you somehow if you were in some kind of trouble..."

"Hey, stop. Stop," he ordered her, grasping her hands in one of his, the other one taking a hold of her chin so she'd look at him and stop babbling. Here he was, about to drop the fucking bombshell and she was already thinking it had been _her_ fault for his out-of-character behavior as of late. "It's not that. I was there helping you because I wanted to, okay? Never doubt that." He bit his lip, his hand dropping from her face and now scratching the hair at the nape of his neck nervously. "But it's true that there has been something off these last weeks." Exhaling heavily, he lifted his eyes back to meet her worried gaze, hating the fact that soon it'd be worse, that those eyes would be full of hurt and pain. Maybe full of tears. "Emma, this deal... now, we don't need it anymore, right?"

He had caught her by surprise, it was obvious. She stared at him, wide eyed, expression completely baffled. "...what?"

He growled in frustration. For all that he had rehearsed this conversation in his head, he feared it would go all to hell soon enough, he would bet anything on it. "I mean. You're rooting for the stars, you got this amazing project with Mulan, and probably will get whatever you want afterwards - and my band is back on the game. The purpose of the contract is fulfilled. Finito. Right? Should we keep on going with it then?"

It was the truth, though. That had been the purpose of the whole thing: give Emma notoriety among the big circles, and bring them good press after his stupid stunt back when Milah had left him. Everything had worked as a charm, exactly as Gold and Regina had predicted: media couldn't stop praising their tryst, the public adored them, and every time they stepped out into the limelight it was bound to create hysteria and probably have some fans fainting at their sight. They had it all, the world at their feet.

And, along the way, they had found something entirely different of what they had expected. Something they hadn't known they were looking for in the first place, but had needed either way, without them noticing.

But this was about the contract, right now. The thought of having to approach _them_ made Killian cringe already.

A frown marred Emma's forehead as she considered his earlier statement, and she leaned her head against the back of the couch, never tearing her gaze from his. "I guess if we don't want to we can just quit it, right?"

"Yeah," he lamely offered. Hell, a headache was coming. He massaged his temples without even acknowledging it.

She shrugged then, and a somewhat calmer demeanor took over her, like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. He realized then she thought this was all he wanted to talk about, and he felt like kicking himself _again_. Or kicking Milah for messing with his life and Emma's for just being unable to stand seeing him being happy for once.

"Okay, so we can call Regina and Mr. Gold tomorrow and tell them. No problem." She scooted closer to him, bumping his shoulder with hers softly, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Was that what had you so concerned? It's just a piece of paper. It has nothing to do with us."

That was what they had discussed not long ago. How, if they decided to stop or just plain break the contract, they could either way keep their private life, their relationship away from it.

But everything had changed, and she had no idea. Not yet, at least.

At his expression, he heard her whisper dubiously, "Has it?"

He squeezed his eyes shut, fists curled over his lap after having dropped her hands. He couldn't bear the thought of looking at her as he added, in the most controlled voice he could muster, "Well, it definitely brought us together."

He knew it'd be a matter of time until she'd put an end to the whole stalling shit he was pulling off. Sitting back up and staring right at him, she commanded airily, "Killian. Tell me please."

He winced as the pounding in his head began to escalate from a dull throb to feeling as if someone was trying to crack open his skull with a hammer. He knew where the source of such pain came - the dread and panic of having this conversation, for starters. Yet he couldn't do anything to stop it. He sighed, the trembling in his hands out of control while he played with the armrest of the couch he had occupied earlier after following Emma into the living room. "It isn't just the contract. It's... us," he finally said, trying to mask the wavering of his voice by clearing his throat.

It didn't make his next words sound anything other than mere whispers, either way.

"I think it'd be better if we stopped seeing each other."

He could swear he heard the halting of her heartbeat. He hadn't met her eyes when he said his piece, but he felt compelled to look at her now, despite knowing he'd probably hate the sight of her.

The shock, disbelief and confusion etched on her features was everything he had dreaded encountering since he had known he had to do this. She looked ahead of her, at a point over his shoulder, eyes unseeing, mouth slightly parted in surprise. "Wow."

"Yeah," Killian murmured, his stomach clenching with dread, fearing that shit was about to hit the fan. Knowing Emma, she would have her say in this, - and he loved her for that, but at the same time he would give anything to skip the whole thing. Not for the fight itself, but because he wasn't sure he'd be able to stand seeing her breaking down, or if he would be strong enough not to.

He _had_ to.

Emma, for her part, had steeled herself, sniffling a couple of times loudly and schooling her features into a cool mask of indifference. God, she was stubborn. As if he would buy that. "Well, I won't say I'm not surprised. That was quite out of the blue. But whatever, I'm just glad we let that out," she finally stated bitterly, giving him her fiercest glare. "See? It wasn't that difficult to fucking finally say what you wanted." She dropped her hands and backed away from him, looking angry and mildly disgusted, though it was obvious she was trying to be the bigger person and look something akin to calm.

He knew she wouldn't keep it up much longer. She felt too much, she _let_ herself feel too much - and even if she had been a pro at hiding and controlling her feelings at every situation, they both knew she was done for whenever he was concerned, since she had let him in.

She was already standing up from the couch, her feet taking her to the kitchen instinctively when he called out to her, almost without thinking about it. "Emma..."

He needn't had bothered: she was already backing away and coming back to face him, nostrils flaring and eyes blazing as she started yelling in his face. "You know what? No. I'm not backing down. Because I care about you. I fucking _love_ you. You made me fall for you, you bastard. And now what? You just woke up one day and decided I wasn't worth it?" she snapped impulsively, and he flinched. Then he stood as well, openly glaring at her, even though he knew she had every right to be mad at him. Hell, he was mad at himself too, but it wasn't like he knew what else to do at this point. But the fact that she would believe she didn't mean anything to him, or that his feelings for her had somewhat dimmed was utterly insulting.

_What the hell did you expect, you wanker. You just told her you wanted to break up with her._

He just _needed_ her to understand he didn't want to, it was the last damn thing he desired, for Christ's sake.

He wanted to take her in his arms and sooth her with whispers in her ear, but knew that would be the worst way to go about this right now. She would probably bit his hand off, and he wouldn't blame her. This was supposed to be a clean breakup, and it was going wonderfully wrong. As everything he ever planned, of course. Eyes glowering, he muttered darkly in barely a whisper, "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Then tell me," she hissed back, not backing down.

He wanted to tell her _so_ badly. It was there, hanging on for dear life on the tip of his tongue. The truth. But that was not what came out of his mouth.

"I can't."

His words reeked of dispair, and he prayed for all that was holy that she'd catch the meaning behind them.

_I don't want to do this. I have to but I don't want to. I am doing this because I love you. I love you. I don't ever want to live without you. You changed my life. _

"Please, Killian. Please." she repeated adamantly, squeezing her eyes closed to trap the tears that threatened to spill over.

It was the tears, the pain and the anguish lacing her tone that broke him, making him snap. His hands grabbed her shoulders forcefully, shaking her lightly so she'd lift her gaze towards him. "Emma, you know if I could, I would. Don't you understand? I'm doing this for you."

Emma's pale green eyes were flashing with fury, but it wasn't her anger that made him flinch. It was the mixture of pain and betrayal on her face. She backed slowly away from him, as if she couldn't tolerate his presence any longer, and the thought cut into him like a knife. She appeared to think better of it, or didn't even notice that she was in fact inching closer to him, her finger jabbing against his chest, and making him wince in pain. "If you want to do something for me, stay with me. _Fight_ for me."

"I have fought! I have tried, I have thought of _any_ way I could to make things right and I swear to you this is the only way," he screamed back at her, his own confusion and pain coming out in waves.

This was what they did. They fought. They yelled, cursed at each other, their verbal sparring inspiring too many emotions in him to face all at once, overwhelming him. He recalled how whenever they ended up like this, both of them panting and gasping for air; her eyes would be on him, and she would look up and grin at him, cheeks glowing red, hair tumbling from her ponytail around her face.

And the sight of her would always feel like a sharp blow to his gut, as he realized for the hundredth time that she was utterly, stupidly and unfairly beautiful.

This time he felt the same, and his heart hammered painfully against his chest when a traitorous part of him reminded him that he may not be witness of this side of her for a long time.

Before he could shake himself from his stupor she was already firing back, words nearly spat at him. "I don't believe that. If you had, you would have told me from the start and we could have tried to figure something out together."

Before he realized it they were both standing, facing each other, rounding the other like prey and predator, although he wasn't sure who was supposed to be whom; their voices rising in a rapid crescendo until it was only a matter of time that it all crashed down around them. "I don't want you in this mess. They can drag me down if they want, but not you. I won't let anything happen to you, even if it costs me my career."

Emma pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes, and he knew she was fighting the urge to burst into tears of exasperation - he had seen her do that too many times this last week when the threat of Neal taking away her son had been too much and she hadn't wanted to worry them with her crying. He was sure she didn't understand how, in a mere matter of minutes, her life had gone spectacularly to hell. "You are so fucking stupid. I don't want you to save me! I don't need a hero, I don't need a savior!"

"You were my savior! You _are_ my savior!"

"Then if I am, let me help you!"

"I told you already - you can't. I'd rather have you safe and happy than being screwed over because of me."

"I won't be happy if I'm not with you, you fucking moron." There was a moment of silence in which they simply stared at each other, her eyes hardened and his softened. Her head fell, and so did her voice as she spoke next. "You are ruining _everything_. I can't believe this is happening."

He opened his mouth but no words ventured out; she had scared them all away, back down his throat.

He remembered the last time they had been in such a fight together - here, in the same room, so long ago. The night they had first slept together. How they had screamed at the top of their lungs, how she had accused him of being wrong for her, how he had snarled back about her fear of letting anybody in. How he had stated he made her happy, how she had scoffed and told him to shove it. How they had kissed for real.

How she cad called him poison, for ruining everything he ever touched.

And he couldn't but agree with her.

"Maybe I am poison after all," he said quietly, hoping the wavering in his voice had gone unnoticed. He peeked at her under his lashes, and his heart fell when he saw yet another tear rolling down her cheek.

"Yet I'd drink you all, knowing the consequences. What does that say about me?," she told him, and the look on her face was something he had never seen before. He had seen it twisted in anger, gleaming with amusement, and shining with tears. But this was something new, something unfamiliar. Sad. Regretful.

His lips quirked into a sad smile then. "That you're stupid. And that I love you anyway."

Emma's shoulders sagged, and he immediately wished he could retract his words. But it was too late. For a few moments they stood facing each other, with their eyes blazing and their chests heaving with emotion. It was Emma who broke the silence. "Don't you dare. Don't you fucking dare to tell me you love me right before you're leaving me," she growled gruffly, her eyes never leaving his face.

He could hardly even breathe. Surprise and heartbreak had seized his limbs, taking them in a bone-crunching, inescapable grip. He closed his eyes. "I'm sorry."

She crossed her arms, bracing herself, and he fought the urge to go and embrace her himself, as he would have done if it had been another day, another time. Another life. "I don't know what is going on. I have no idea why you think you must do this, but for whatever reason it may be, I will be waiting. Mad as hell, because you decided to go against what I want, what I'm asking you to do, to not leave me, and instead you chose to follow some stupid fucking honor code or something to keep me safe. I told you - I don't need saving. I _need_ you." She took a few deep breaths in an obvious attempt to calm herself, but it was no use - he could see her trembling hands, the slight shaking of her limbs, and he would swear there was a tiny stutter in her speech, probably due to her fight against tears. "But I know you won't budge, because you're one stubborn son of a bitch."

If he had never minded about the silences he and Emma shared, considering them soothing, calming, and full of understanding from her part, this one was completely different from anything they had ever experienced. Tension, strain, unspoken words, angry threats, apologies, excuses. Anything and everything that had been left unsaid between them. Anything and everything that they had ever shared.

He knew he didn't have the right to ask. He knew it wasn't the moment, he knew it was wrong - God, it was all kinds of wrong, the time, the place, the situation. Yet he couldn't help himself. "And you love me anyways?"

17 seconds.

That was what it took her to answer him.

"Against all odds." The words drifted down from her mouth as if by parachute, and they hit the floor with soft, quiet feet.

Killian could find no words to express the emotions that he felt when she said this, and chose to bend to brush his lips against hers instead of having to think of anything to tell her. His kiss was as light as a whisper, and if it was true that every kiss had a meaning behind it, he thought that this one felt like a fond farewell.

Apparently, she refused to let that be the case.

Emma pressed her mouth insistently against his, burying her fingers in his hair to keep him from pulling away. The moment she tried deepening the kiss, he immediately responded in kind. In a heartbeat his hands were tangled in her curls, his lips moving against hers with an intensity that nearly left her breathless.

A soft moan escaped her lips as soon as his hands left her hair, her clothes being tugged away and dropped on the floor, her blouse being frantically unbuttoned. In his haste to remove the garment, a few of the buttons popped off and fell to the floor, but he couldn't bring himself to care. They were so consumed with desire that he almost forgot the need to breathe.

He finally pulled his lips away from hers long enough to murmur, "Just for tonight, pretend that we have all the time in the world."

She stared up at him for a long moment, eyes wide and open for him to read. Despair, lust, reluctance.

_Love_.

Before he would drown himself in the storm brewing inside the sea coloring her eyes, he ripped her blouse off her shoulders and bent down to fasten his mouth on her collarbone, sucking hard enough to leave a red mark. He moved further south to the tops of her breasts, covering them with fierce, open-mouthed kisses, trying to memorize the taste of her skin or brand her with the memory of his touch. Perhaps a combination of both.

She was his. He was hers. Damn it all to hell if he had to stay away from her for their sakes - for her sake - she'd better not forget who she wanted, and who wanted her as much in return.

The thought of someone capturing her heart as he had managed to do after such a long time made his heart clench and give a new rush to his movements, now frantic and uncoordinated.

There was a chaotic blur of pants, socks, and underwear being thrown to the floor as they were both divested of their clothing. Then she gasped when Killian suddenly scooped her into his arms and carried her across the room. As he lowered her onto the bed, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his body down to cover hers. The need to feel every inch of his skin pressed against hers was almost overwhelming.

Quickly, but somehow not quickly enough for either of them, he was inside of her. Neither of them said anything, but it seemed that for the moment, no words needed to be spoken. They spoke another language entirely - one that consisted of gasps and moans, of lips and fingers burning trails over each other's skin - as they rocked together with an urgency that bordered on desperation.

Emma clung to him, moving with him as he set a steady rhythm that brought both of them closer to the brink of oblivion. It was an experience unlike any of the other times that he had been with her. It was mournful and slow, tender and fierce, and as he pressed his lips to the throbbing pulse point in her neck, he belatedly realized that he was not simply sleeping with her.

He was making love to her.

He closed his eyes, feeling as if his heart was going to burst.

"Emma," he said, breathing heavily with the labor of his movements. He cupped her chin with his hand. "Emma, please look at me."

She opened her eyes to meet his, and the moment she did so, something spread throughout his body, every nerve in him tingling and sending sparks through him, something akin to magic taking hold of them. Again he gasped her name, this time in a voice that was both possessive and pleading, and at the sound of it, she shattered in his arms, curling her hips into his as she came with a keening cry. He followed soon after, gathering her body closer to his as, together, they rode out the intense wave of physical pleasure and emotional pain.

Breathing finally slowing, she gazed into his eyes, and as they both studied each other, he wondered how they had come to this, what had been fate's plan all along if it had to come up to this in the end. Them meeting, the contract, the getting to know each other, the tearing down each other's walls until they crumbled to dust, the love, the family, the sense of being part of something. Part of someone.

Why making their paths cross once, if they were meant to never meet again after that? Had it been designed like that since the beginning?

He refused to believe that, but as he held Emma against him and ghosted kisses against her shoulder lazily, he couldn't help but fear it _could_ be the case, making him desperately cherish her presence and the promise of her affection and her feelings that night.

He realized that he may never fully understand what had transpired between them. Maybe he never would. Emma had always been this puzzle to him, a blurry image that he could never properly see or couldn't figure out at times. But somehow, by his side - he had been able to. Because maybe the broken pieces of her just clicked with his, and who knew what picture both his and hers would form, but he would bet it was full of something magical. Something that only Emma, full of life and vibrant and hope Emma, unadulterated Emma, walls-down Emma could bring into it.

And now, he clang to the little things: the heat of her body, the way she held to him like he was her anchor as they made love into the night branding into his brain, promising to be things he'd hold onto the next months and who knew for how long, when he'd have to let her go.

* * *

He awoke hours later, pale morning light filling the bedroom as he shifted instinctively closer to Emma to draw from her body heat - they had probably left the window open again, he would have to remind her not to do that or they'd both catch a cold one of these days…

At this thought, Killian's eyes snapped open, and he drew himself away from the temptation of her warm, inviting body. It ached to think that something that could have been so _normal_ for them, so _mundane_, would have to be ripped off from his life so painfully. He pulled back the covers and forced himself to crawl out of the comfort of her bed, cringing when his bare feet struck the cold, hardwood floor.

His sudden movement caused Emma to roll over and stretch out her arms to where he had been lying before, and her face crinkled into a frown. It was as if she could sense his abandonment, even in her sleep. It made his heart ache all over again. The lost girl, the abandoned girl.

He never would have thought he'd be added to the list of people who would have to leave her, even though he had tried as hell to make sure she understood he intended to fight for them, that he didn't want to stay away from her at all.

Killian sighed. He kept waiting for him to feel remorse over the previous night, somehow feeling that it had been a mistake. He had wanted it to be a clean break – if such a thing was even possible at this point. But a part of him had known from the start that it would have been a futile attempt - who had he been kidding. There would be no clean breaks with Emma. That was not who they were, and they would never be. And a small, hopeful voice inside of him kept buggering him about how it wouldn't have to be the last time they were together because, somehow, who knew when or where, they would find each other again, problems, threats and deals aside.

As much as he hated believing in happy endings and promises of dreams coming true, he sure as hell would pray to Walt Disney himself or his blasted fairy godmother if it brought him back to Emma.

With another sigh, Killian retrieved his clothes from the floor and dressed himself. Then he closed the window to shut out the crisp morning air before he turned to exit the room. He hesitated on his way out the door, looking back at Emma's slumbering form. He didn't want to wake her – didn't want her to see him leave. He didn't know if he would be able to handle her expression when he did. But he couldn't resist returning to her side one last time to tuck the blankets more tightly around her and press a feather-light kiss to her forehead. She stirred again, her eyelids fluttering as she mumbled something incoherent under her breath, - making him smile against all odds, recalling her embarrassment when they teased her about her sleep talking; - but she did not awaken.

In that moment, Killian wondered if he was making a huge mistake leaving her and ending this…well, whatever _this_ was that had developed between them. But when he saw the peaceful look on her face as she slept, he knew he was making the right choice. She had had to fight so long and so hard – for herself when she was a kid, for her son, for her family, for her job. For once, didn't she deserve to have something she _didn't_ have to fight for?

Emma deserved to be happy – that much, Killian knew for sure.

With great effort, Killian turned to leave the room once more. This time, he forced himself not to look back.

* * *

"So. You two just have to sign these - here and here."

Everything felt like those flashbacks in movies, where the viewer can see the symmetry of the scene, the changes in the characters's clothes and features, - everything, really. They would think _'oh, wow, what a great parallel! I wonder what the significance behind it all means...'. _Killian had no idea what they would consider if this scene in particular and that one from months ago were faced against the other and closely examined.

Emma and Regina, sitting in one of the couches in front of the one he and Gold were sitting in, the glass low table separating them. If he remembered correctly, Emma had been wearing a skirt then, - he _had_ teased her about it, pushing her buttons as he had been doing since their first run-in. Today, she had opted for a black ensemble which contrasted infamously with his fair skin and blond tresses. Her hair had been in curls that day - today it fell straight to her chest. Back then, they hadn't stopped bickering back and forth and trying to get the upper hand, both of them not daring the other to get the last word.

Today, neither one of them seemed eager to speak at all.

All in all, even if the scene could look eerily familiar, it felt completely alien to him. Back to that day, it had meant a start, a beginning. Today, it reeked of goodbye.

Of course, it was she who broke the silence that had mostly domineered the incredibly awkward meeting they were having. "And that's all?"

Gold nodded, giving her a feeble smile. "Yeah. Nothing else." Before she could make any other response, his manager signaled towards a stack of papers over on his desk, and, after sharing a small look, both he and Emma stood up at the same time, as if they both were completely in sync, like they had always been. He could see the same ridiculously posh pens they had used to sign the contract in the first place, waiting for them to promise something else, something new altogether.

Something breaking.

For a fleeting moment, he mused if this was somehow what divorcing couples felt like when they were about to go their separate ways, along with their attorneys and to-be-former-partners in their last meeting as family of sorts.

He couldn't help himself as they stood there, holding those pens in their hands and nearly shaking in place in front of the damned papers. "You okay?"

She fell silent, and he knew exactly what she was thinking. It was one of the things he had always loved about her, how easy she was to read. Just like one of the scripts she learned by heart for her movies, the books she read for them, _everything_ she thought or felt was written on her face as clearly as words on a page. He knew she was thinking about the possible dual meaning behind his words; that she was wondering if he was referring to being okay with what they were doing, not the contract, but _them_.

She steeled herself, bending over the desk and scribbling on the small blank space over her name. "I'm fine. Let's get this over with."

He teared his gaze from hers, and followed her example, signing over the place he was supposed to and leaving the pen abandoned over the new contract/countering the old contract. He couldn't help but see how both of them were now laying on their own side of the desk, separated.

Just like the names that they had signed.

"So. It's done," he trailed off uncomfortably and Emma nodded, shifting her gaze to the floor.

"Yeah. I guess it is."

Gold nodded reluctantly, and they all rose to leave. In her wake, Emma wobbled somewhat as she stood, and Killian wrapped his arm around her waist to steady her. Reflexively, she pulled herself out of his grasp.

"I'm fine, Killian," she muttered. Before he could say anything in reply, she breezed out of the room and made her way towards the elevators to leave the building. He followed her out, leaving Gold and Regina discussing whatever details they wanted - or gossip, he wasn't sure what those two knew or would think about all of this, but either way, he wasn't complaining for not being invited to the rep party. He could hear Emma's footsteps ahead of him until he saw her. She had stopped in her tracks, and as soon as she did so, Killian paused as well. She turned to face him, trying to avoid direct eye contact as he stood there, watching her warily. She approached him slowly, step by step booming across the hallway like canons firing in the middle of some battle ship, and he couldn't help but think, _every man to himself_.

They were all drowning, after all. Both of them.

He already had, for sure.

Emma stopped mere inches from him, and held her hand out to him. He studied her small palm, the smooth skin that had caressed his so many times, the short nails that had pinched him and raked over his shoulders and back on so many occasions. He couldn't remember ever having shaken hands with her: their whole relationship had started with words and curses yelled at each other, pre organized kisses and bickered conversations that had never really ended when they had decided their deal was morphing into something else entirely. Never had they had to act in such a formal way.

Little had he known, then, that this would be what it would come to in the end. A simple handshake.

"Have a nice life, Jones," she said softly.

It was for the best, he knew, but that couldn't keep his heart from breaking a little more. He wanted to kiss her, shake her, wrap his arms around her and never let go. Instead, he took it in his, his thumb rubbing her palm on its own accord, and declared in a throaty voice, "Same, Swan."

As their hands touched, it was as if lightning danced between their fingertips, shooting up his arm and electrifying every inch of his body, and he knew then. He _knew_.

He would never get over her. He would have to do everything in his power to keep her safe, but there would be no one else for him apart from Emma Swan. And if he had to stay away for now - for as long as he had to - for that to be the case, then so be it.

Even if the thought of losing her killed him.

Emma dropped his hand quickly, and he knew she felt the same thing. But by the time he shook himself from his stupor, she was shaking her head, swirling around and blond tresses billowing behind her as she made to leave.

"Emma?"

She paused in mid stride, and turned to look back at him. Mustering all his courage, he stared right at her, and asked, like it was one of the countless times since they had acknowledged what they had was far more than their names signed in a piece of paper.

"Kiss?"

Their code. Their little routine. Their banter. Their ticks. They had started using it as a way to ask for permission, to ask for forgiveness, to ask for anything and everything. To request the other to pass something which was out of their reach. To say hi.

They both knew this one meant goodbye.

The paradox of the sea in her eyes glistening, wet and bright rendered him speechless as she stepped closer to him, her hands falling to his shoulders, and she leaned to press her lips against his, brushing them in the softest ghost of a kiss they had ever shared. "Kiss."

And before he could add anything else, he was staring at her back as she stepped inside of the elevator, the cheerful ding while the doors closed behind her mocking his crestfallen expression and beating heart. That was it. The greatest love of his life, out of his reach and flying from him, just like that swan he had spied in the clouds long ago, the eve of the day he met her.

83 seconds.

That was how long it took him to realize he'd been holding his breath since she had parted with their kiss, and when he inhaled again, the air tasted like cocoa and cinnamon.

And for once, the scent didn't bring its usual warmth with it - but loneliness, and a heavy heart.

* * *

_**...please don't hate me. Believe me, I haven't cried that much while typing something since... ever. Maybe with 'Heart's a Mess', but these are my babies, and I care too much about them, and their pain is *my* pain and I am highly emotional these days and yeah, I am sorry.**_

_**Sorry for the delay, but as I explained on Tumblr, I did have this idea for another AU and I am finally finished with it so that's why I was so late in updating! Hopefully next chapter won't take that long, but I can't assure anything - summer is proving to be quite busy. (whaaaat right? where is my mojito and my tan?)**_

_**feel free to cry and yell at me. I know I deserve it. here, have tissues, babies. *throws tissues at everybody***_

_**also, this is unbeta'ed, as Cee is out of the country, hiding from the police. Be safe, dear. (...i'm kidding. she's actually not escaping the authorities, just following her favorite band in a groupie spree) (that'd be cool right?!) (*sigh* oh i have such fun plans for you my dear)**_

_**you know you love me. xoxWHAT NO I AM NO DAN HUMPFREY. **_

_**love always, nini. **_

_**PS: "Until It Hurts", by Fransisca Hall, "Are You Happy Now", by Michelle Branch, "Losing My Way" by Justin Timberlake and "Runaway" by Maroon 5. Pretty much. Yeah. Enjoy the feels. **_


	27. Chapter 27: You'll Never Know

**_Disclaimer: None of this characters are mine. No Killian Jones, no Emma Swan, no Graham, no Ruby. Not even little Henry. Not even Grace. Nope. If they did, we'd all hang out and I'd probably spend my days staring at their prettiness and perfection. Sadly, they all are owned by Adam Horowitz and Edward Kitsis, along with OUAT. Bastards._**

* * *

She walked. She talked. She worked. She breathed. But she felt_ empty._

Days, weeks passed. They soared past her with lovely wings, but she was left behind. In the past. A better place than the present, if only because he was there with her.

Sometimes she had dreams. They were beautiful dreams, brimming with vibrant colors and sounds. She liked dreaming, because it was the only way he felt alive without remembering him.

These were some of the things she kept coming back to as she made her way into the cozy diner. She really had no idea why she had come to Granny's. She kept fighting the urge to slap herself for it, but at the same time she _knew_ why she was there. She just didn't know how to cope with the fact that it was happening.

She was seeing him today.

"Hey, beauty queen." Granny said with a shameless grin. Emma tried really hard not to scowl or groan at the older woman, opting to hide her face behind her palm.

"I have no idea how many times I have to ask you to call me Emma."

"It's too fun to tease you." Emma rolled her eyes, and decided to steer the conversation in another direction. She preferred not to think about other nicknames she had gotten over the last months.

Or about the person who had been behind each one of them to try to irk her. Or simply make her smile.

"Pancakes and cocoa?"

She nodded, sighing contentedly. These days it was chocolate the only thing making her keep it together - and giving her any physical pleasure, for that matter, she thought to herself with an empty laugh. She would never have thought she would miss sex as much. "Please."

"On it." Granny barked her order behind her, bustling around her side of the counter and coming to stand before her, a searching glint on her face while she studied her. "You know, I didn't expect to find you in here anymore."

Emma flinched visibly. God, she was losing her touch - weeks from now, she'd have maintained her poker face and no one would have been the wiser about her inner turmoil. Another reason to curse the bastard, for making her walls thinner, for helping her wear her emotions on her sleeve - something she had never done before. Ever. "Yeah, I didn't expect to come either. No offense to your pancakes, though," she finally said, her voice even. Calm.

"None taken," Granny smirked, as if the idea of someone shaming on her food was preposterous. Which it _was_. Her expression turned serious then, staring down at her, a hint of worry lacing her tone. "Have you seen him lately?"

And of course neither of them needed to explain who it was they were talking about. Emma could almost feel him there, like a ghost, sitting beside her and spinning in his stool like a freaking kid, pouting at her and drawing a mustache with the whipped cream of her drink before daring her to lick it off before he made a fool of himself going out looking like that.

The fact that every damn time a memory hit her felt like a punch to her gut wasn't sitting too well with her.

"No," she finally said, trying to keep her tone level as Granny left her order in front of her. "Have you?" She hated that her voice broke at the question, and Emma didn't meet the patron's eyes as she spoke, focused instead on the pancakes, the syrup drawing a smiley face on its spongy, bronzed surface only making her grimace.

Granny sighed tiredly, shaking her head. "A couple of times. Not in a chatty mood, that one, to be honest."

Emma didn't know what to make of that. She had been to Granny's more than once since the 'incident' - she had grown too attached to the place, to the happy moments she had spent there, to the sweet and blunt woman in charge who liked to keep up with their lives and asked them endlessly about their crazy schedules and meetings, all while keeping them under her wing, acting like a protective kind-of mother.

She didn't want to admit to herself she may have been coming to chance an encounter with the musician, awkwardness be damned.

She was _that_ of a masochist.

A resigned and somewhat amused voice brought her out of her confused musings, and she saw Ruby striding in her direction, some bags slung over her arms while her heels clicked loudly against the linoleum floor. "Well, that's going to change soon."

"Hey, Ruby, " she sighed defeatedly as her best friend took a seat on the stool at her right. She set her things down and snatched Emma's fork from her fingers without a word, stealing a bite from her breakfast and moaning in delight right after swallowing. Giving her back the fork, she dabbed her lips with a napkin Granny offered her.

"Here moping by yourself?" she asked Emma, and it came out more worried than she would have liked. She was getting _really_ tired about this.

Before she could snap at her for being such a bitch, Granny beat her to it, throwing her arms in the air. "Should I consider myself invisible?" the elder woman asked in disbelief.

Ruby waved her off, and Emma could tell by the way she said it that she was grinning. "Oh, you know what I mean. And you don't even give her proper advice, you just bark at her."

A gasp was heard from the other side of the counter. "I do _not_."

Emma stabbed her pancakes with sick pleasure and then pointed at each one of them. "You two sound like mother and daughter. Or something."

They really did. Since the first time Emma had brought Ruby to the diner, she and the owner had clicked instantly and enjoyed to get a rise from each other whenever they came around to grab a bite. Emma hadn't been too surprised, considering both women shared similar traits and kindred personalities, but she was sure that no amount of pouts would convince Granny to change her usual attire or half moon shaped glasses.

Both Ruby and Granny gave her identical scowls. "Shut up."

Emma couldn't suppress an eye roll. Ruby clicked her tongue, rearranging her locks in a messy ponytail with a hair band and taking Emma's spoon to check her reflection on it distractedly. "So, everything's ready for tonight."

Granny arched an eyebrow, interested. "What's going on tonight?"

_Ah._

Emma felt like it was the best moment she would ever find to pick at her nails. Nails were important. Nails were like top ten in priorities at that moment. Not that conversation. Not at all. Nails. Nail polish. Would it match the dress? Should she cut them? Would Ruby plan something for them? Of course she would. It was _Ruby_ they were talking about after all.

Yep, nails were super important and no one would convince her otherwise.

Albeit her intent focus on her polish, she could feel Ruby's wary eyes on her, and seconds later she heard her sigh, jerking her head towards the outdated television fixed on the opposite side of the diner. "Up there, Granny."

Nails. Nails, Emma. They're a huge deal. You know. Especially tonight. Nails. Tonight.

And her resolve kept wavering until she peeked towards the hazy screen, a loud ad about the upcoming awards and short footage of hosts, attendees and performers clashing together with the upbeat song playing in the background. She hated how her heart beat painfully against her chest when, seconds after her own image had been on it, _his_ showed up. She knew it by heart. She had watched the same stupid ad a million times. She would love to say it was because they announced it every freaking ten minutes - which they did, - but she wouldn't swear on a stack of Bibles she hadn't looked for the same ad on Youtube to play it a dozen of times more.

Or videos of them together at Coachella. At their concert. At their first official - and _very_ fake - date.

Or that she had spent the morning after their last time together playing a message he had left on her phone over and over again until Henry had come back home and she had had to put up her best smile to greet him - before telling him how Killian wouldn't be around anymore.

"Oh, dammit." When Emma arched one eyebrow, Granny rushed to cover up her slip, trying to sound cheerful. "That sounds fun."

Ruby barked out a laugh. "Loads.

The elder woman turned to Emma once more, and in a move that caught her by surprise, grasped her hand in hers. She stared at them, the wrinkled, rougher one enveloping her smaller, paler one in a firm grasp that should fool no one about this woman's strength. "Bit of advice? Chin up, broad smile. Don't let them see what they want to find - they'll look for anything to talk about, to mess with you two." She halted then, slipping her hand from hers and passing it through her silvery curls. "As for Jones..."

"I don't want to see him" she whispered, interrupting her, and she hated how it dripped down her chin, hopeless, no will to fight anymore. She felt tired. Done. Completely done with everything. And she despised herself for it - she was Emma fucking Swan. She never gave up. _Never_. And here she was, moping like Ruby had accused her of earlier, hiding and dreading to go out there and face the music.

She had already nursed a broken heart before, she repeated herself. Why was this any different?

_Him. You. You two were different._

She could see her two accompanies sharing a look, until Granny shrugged. "You don't have to talk to him."

Ruby nodded. "You can always act civil towards him. Or just plain ignore him. It's no big deal, no one's going to judge you just because you don't want to be around your ex after a breakup."

"That'd be the normal thing to do," Granny agreed, and Emma had to fight back a humorless smile at their attempts to soothe her. She was beyond grateful for them, for what they were trying to do, but the fact remained still.

She wasn't sure what she should expect at the sight of him.

Emma pushed her now empty plate out of her way and brought her eyes up towards the TV precariously balanced on the other shelf, where the ad was playing once more. She saw herself and Graham in the movie, swords clashing and roars of battle resounding in the distance. She waved a hand towards the screen mockingly. "Since when has my life been normal, ladies?"

Granny cocked her head to the side, studying her carefully behind her glasses and narrowing her eyes. She then shrugged her shoulders, trying to hide a bitter smirk and turning to look at Ruby. "I guess she has a point."

* * *

"Swan."

"Humbert."

He gave her an appreciative look from head to toe, and she nervously rearranged her black tight dress. Ruby had insisted in a minidress - it was June, after all, and she was grateful for the opportunity of being free of long, puffy ones, as beautiful as they may be. No luck concerning the shoes, though. Heels it was for her.

Sometimes she wondered if the fact that they were spelled as similarly as _hell_ was made on purpose. They were positively _killing_ her.

See? Graham didn't seem to find her predicament too troublesome. He just winked at her. _Winked_. "Looking good, as always."

She glared at him, settling her hands on her hips. Pissed off Swan pose, as they had dubbed it long ago. "Stop smothering me."

A single dark eyebrow scaled his forehead at her reaction. She huffed, desperate. They had _all_ being tiptoeing around her since the breakup, and she was so not in the mood for all of them babying her, treating her like some delicate china piece. She was wearing heels after all - she was in no mood for _anything_.

The sick feeling twisting in her stomach and threatening to make her pass out at the realization that this was it, tonight, maybe hours or minutes until she would run into him wasn't helping her thinning patience either.

Graham tried to appear offended. "I am not."

"You are. Just like everybody else," she said, trembling in her effort to rein her vehement anger. She saw him tense at her side, and she cursed inwardly - not at him, but at her own reaction. God, what was wrong with her?

"Well, excuse me for trying to be a gentleman."

"You don't need to," Emma replied, bristling in defense.

His whole expression softened then, and he inched closer to her. "Hey." He put his hands over her shoulders, his thumbs drawing patters on her naked shoulders, and she had to suppress the urge to shake herself from him. Not because she was disgusted or something - it was _Graham_ after all; sweet, caring, easy-going boy-next-door and stupidly hot Graham. But that was it: it was Graham touching her, trying to calm her, to comfort her. Not somebody else. Not the one she was yearning for, the one she kept missing. "We're just worried. We know it won't be easy for you. For both of you. We just want to make sure you're okay - and have fun, at least to a minimum."

She closed her eyes and sighed, knowing it was long overdue for her to give an explanation for her actions – most notably her bitchiness towards everybody. She couldn't dodge the issue any longer. The more she tried to bury the past, the more it threatened to eat away at her. "I know. Thank you, I appreciate it. Really. But I'm not sure I'm right in the mood. I'll try though," she promised between clenched teeth, not really sure she'd be able to keep it.

Seeing as everybody broke promises made to her, she saw some kind of karmic synergy, cosmic balance, divine justice - whatever it was in her being more than justified to break some of her own too.

Graham nodded, understanding clear on his expression as he examined her. "That's all we ever wanted." He dropped his hands from her after giving her an assuring squeeze, and made a motion with his hand for her to step out of the hallway they were standing in towards the car waiting for them both to take them to the red carpet. "Come on. They're waiting for us."

And indeed they were.

The roar of the crowd screaming out their names hit her so abruptly, she distractedly thought it would knock her and make her fall - or at least stumble on her shoes. She trudged behind Graham, glad for his presence at her side even if he was not conscious about it - though she suspected he _did_, but didn't want to make a big fuss about it, knowing how sensitive and bitchy she was lately. She spied Anton already talking to the paps ahead of them, and a small smile curved at her lips at his sight: he always managed to lift her spirits, no matter what. Regina followed them closely behind, monitoring her every move. She had been quite supportive since the whole deal had been broken - hadn't pushed for details, had encouraged her to distract herself or take time for her own, offering to take care of Henry whenever she guessed she needed time off. Ruby was attending too as her companion, but she would join her inside. She was coming there for both her and Victor, but Emma hadn't wanted to find out if she was riding with him - or rather _them_ - or what was exactly her plan; she just knew she'd be there to sit by her side when it all started.

She breathed heavily and, when they reached the long carpet leading them to the theater, she stood up straighter, squared her shoulders and nodded to her costar, who waited beside her with a knowing look on his face, like he was expecting her cue.

As if he needed it.

And side by side, the mayhem of flashes, questions and shouts for their attention started. She had been dreading the whole personal assault about the details of her current come back-to-single status, but to her utmost surprise, they never came - just some banners from overly excited girls standing behind the fences separating crowd and the people actually attending the awards along with the MTV crew. They waved them at her, their arms nearly spamming in their haste to make themselves seen, and Emma squinted her eyes to read _'Killian and Emma - Forever in our Hearts!'_. She didn't know if she was in those girls' hearts, but hers for sure clenched after reading their carefully scrawled and adorned letters. She sent them a smile, even though she was not completely convinced it had come out like a grimace. She felt like spinning, the air around her suffocating her, people coming and going in a never ending tide that pushed her and she had no will, no strength to try to stop them from taking her along The words spilling from her lips at whatever it was the journalists asked her became a mantra repeated over and over again that flashed behind her eyelids as if they were also banners from fangirls standing outside for her, and it all came down to her name and his, together, even if they were not...

A hand unexpectedly grabbed her arm, and she shot her head up to see Regina, who tilted her chin up with her fingers, a concerned expression stealing her features while she examined her carefully. "We're almost there. You can do this."

In. Out. Breathe in. Breathe out.

She could do this.

She nodded, a flush breaking on her skin when she belatedly realized that someone must be filming this and all kind of stories could be already making up every possible story under the sun about her sudden breakdown. She straightened up, trying to muster all of the courage she had left to go on. "Okay." She let go of her manager, whirling on her feet in a graceful move that took her by surprise considering her heels - and not stumbling in the process - and scanned the crowd in search of sandy curls. She finally spotted him after a whole minute of whirling around her spot and cracking her neck from side to side like a mangled toy. Graham stood a couple of feet away from her, and after regaining her bearings, she strode towards him. As if sensing her presence, he turned around, grinning when he saw her and motioning for her to join him in his interview.

"Hey there, Swan girl!"

She stood there, staring ahead of her at the same MTV guy who had not so long ago, the day of their movie premiere, interviewed her and Killian and making them join into one of his games of choice answers. She felt like passing out right there - was _everything_ going to go back to _him_? She wished she could shoo his presence away, like batting at an annoying fly. Alas, it wasn't that easy.

When was it, anyway?

The fact that the memory of that interview in particular brought a fond smile to her lips instead of a painful reminder of what they had left behind took her momentarily by surprise. Not one to lose opportunities, she chose to use her sudden contentment to her advantage, and she shook her head at the interviewer - Josh, was it? - pointing at him and mocking a horrified face. "You again! I can _never_ get rid of you!"

He laughed heartily at her, pointing an accusing finger in her direction. "You so missed me, don't even try to deny it!"

"You got me," she admitted, fluttering her eyelashes as Graham and he burst out laughing. She really liked this guy, bless him for making her laugh. They chit chatted for a bit, and Emma had to admit to herself at one point that, to her surprise, she _was_ quite enjoying herself, until Josh - yeah, she had secretly patted herself in the back for having remembered his name, where was her golden star?, - decided it was time to ask about the reason they were in the awards at all.

"You guys nervous about the nominations?"

Graham and Emma exchanged a look and turned to him at the same time. "I am!," her costar beamed, almost bouncing on his feet. Idiot.

She didn't show such an enthusiast response, she was afraid. "Excited more like it."

Josh nodded, his mic posed for them waving nervously as he fired his next question. "Did you prepare some awe-inspiring speeches?"

"Epic material. I can almost taste the Nobel," she added ruefully.

Graham chuckled - probably because he knew as well as her that she had indeed _not_ prepared any kind of speech, - and she sent him a glare in answer, while Josh just laughed even harder. "I'm rooting for you guys just so I can hear those." He paused for a moment, checking some of the cards he carried in his free hand, and his eyebrows flew to his hairline. Uh-oh. Emma was not really sure what to make of that reaction. What was he going to say now?

He looked at them then, a delighted expression on his face. "So - you two got nominated for Best Kiss. You have anything planned in case you win?" He laughed again at Emma's dumbfounded expression, but kept going. "You have great competition from past years - Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdam's impression from the one in The Notebook comes to mind. Or hey, Pattinson ran to the audience to kiss Lautner too! So if you are up to come down and choose somebody sitting there..."

Jesus.

She really hope he was _not_ going there.

"Are _you_ gonna be sitting there?," she asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Of course!"

"Then I'll tell Graham to go for it, sure!" she conceded cockily, and both Graham and he cracked up at her wit. She had to admit, the image of Graham running from the stage in case they won and running towards the poor interviewer to assault his lips with his would be one hell of a surprise. A funny one. And she would be the mastermind behind it all.

Hell yeah, she was Emma Swan. She was _so_ taking this.

Josh shook his head at her, sighing in defeat and slumping his shoulders. "Ah, you sneaky Swan. One day. I'll never lose hope, though!"

An unknown voice coming from behind him - a pap who had been eavesdropping on their interview and snapping pictures non stop - jumped in, chancing to sneak in his input. "Especially now that she's single! Graham! Is it true that she left Killian Jones for you?"

There was a pregnant pause in which Josh flushed, turning in his spot to shush the rather rude paparazzi away, Graham paled and Emma just glanced up, more startled than offended. Was that what they were saying? She hadn't even bothered to check out what they were writing or commenting after her breakup with Killian, but _that_, she hadn't expected. Even if it made sense, in a way: people would always look for a reason, an ugly one especially while they were at it, someone to blame.

Graham seemed to recover rather quickly, his face carefully blank as he stared hard at the pap. "Not your interview, buddy." He then sent Josh an apologetic smile, shrugging lightly. "Gotta keep moving. See you there!"

They both left then, stepping from their earlier spot and going to the other side of the carpet for a couple of minutes. Her words fell from her lips before she was even aware of it. "Thank you."

He looked at her from the corner of his eyes, putting his hands inside his pockets and rocking on the heels of his feet as he let out a long sigh. "Dodged that one quite nicely, huh?"

She scrunched up her nose, meeting his eyes. "My knight in shining armor," she told him mockingly. He smirked back at her, bowing pompously.

"I live to please m'lady."

Before she could stop herself, she hugged him. The warmth of his body pressed against hers brought back an onslaught of memories back, and the cracks that she had been so careful to keep hidden threatened to become visible once more - chinks in her emotional armor, her feelings for all to witness. She couldn't risk it, not there, not then. She clang to him a couple of seconds longer, noticing how he hadn't even stiffened or commented at her sudden PDA spectacle, and silently offering her the comfort she sought right then from him. She disentangled herself from his form, avoiding his eyes, even if she knew he understood what she was going through. He met her eyes once more, tilting her chin up with a small smile, until his manager dragged him away towards another paparazzi waiting for him to share whatever he asked of him. She tried not to laugh at her costar's scrunched-up nose and dismayed expression while he was led away from her side, and she hugged herself, already dreading what might be in store for her for the rest of the evening.

And then she heard it.

A laugh. A short, loud sound, so familiar, so close, so hers it made her gasp in shock, like all the air had left her lungs at once, the feeling painful and sharp, piercing at her heart, her very soul.

He laughed, and she couldn't resist smiling at the sound. She never could.

And it hurt.

She didn't understand why it hurt so much. She knew it was coming. Only a matter of time. _It shouldn't hurt this fucking badly._ But it did. It felt like her heart was being ripped out of her chest cavity, like her lungs were being pumped with water and then wrung out with unforgiving hands.

_It shouldn't hurt this fucking badly._

She closed her eyes, trying to muffle the sound, to ignore the presence that she knew was mere feet from her. But then her left one opened ever-so-slightly, outlining his silhouette on the other side of the carpet, his voice as he spoke with one of the journalists and bickered back and forth with his bandmates, - and she closed her eyes shut so quickly, she thought for a moment they were playing tricks on her.

And then, he turned around and spotted her. Like he knew she was there.

He once had told her she was a magnet. A human magnet, that she _drew_ people to her.

She wondered if that was what happened between the two of them, if they were cursed to be always drawn to each other - or to be apart instead.

She dreaded asking or getting any of the possible answers.

A silence hanged in which neither of them could draw the words. She didn't move, not even an inch, and neither did he. Everything around them seemed to blur in with the background, like a Van Gogh painting, shades of yellow, black and blue bright and alive and moving while they both froze and captured each other's gazes, unable to look away.

Not wanting to look away. Not daring to.

He stared at her for what must be fifteen seconds before he finally nodded mutely, stepping away and following his bandmates, who had now joined her and Graham's previous spot and were being interviewed by Josh. She let out a breath she hadn't known she had been holding, and pretended to be rearranging the bodice of her dress when she really was putting a hand over her racing heart, in an unsuccessful attempt to calm it.

It didn't help matters she could listen their interview. At all.

"Are you guys excited about any of the movies? We're getting trailers, sneak peeks and people from some of the most awaited ones of the year!"

They all rushed to answer him, but of course she only focused on his velvety voice, the one that had made thousands fall in love with his music. The one she had fallen asleep to. The one that had whispered tenderly against her temple more times she could count. She shook her head, straining her ears to hear him. "I don't know man, there are so many - but I can't freaking wait for the Superman one."

Emma chewed her lower lip, trying to hide her disappointment. She had been so sure that he was about to say something meaningful to her, but of course he wouldn't. It would only fuel the fire about their recent breakup, and she guessed he didn't want to mess up with that now.

"Victor can't wait to drool over the guy's abs. He can't help it," Jefferson teased, and they all agreed in a chorus of chuckles and catcalls.

Victor put his hands up in front of him. "Who can? Have you seen that guy?"

Josh appeared to be having the time of his life, bending in laughter and readjusting his glasses over his nose. "I just know you're all wearing Superman underwear right now. Don't deny it."

They guffawed in unison, and it was August's voice then interrupting their round of giggling. "Bet all the girls are buying those for the premiere and trying to make the poor guy sign them if they ever run into him."

She tensed so bad, she could almost hear her back crack into place. She could feel a real flush spreading from her cheeks to her chest, and she couldn't help her eyes from wandering towards Killian, who had dropped the mic that Josh had lent him earlier to answer his questions. Her knees buckled a bit at his off-guard expression.

"Killian, you okay?"

She swirled around, searching for Regina, Graham, Anton, _anyone_, just fucking anyone, to rescue her from hearing this, but Graham had been claimed by a leggy red head who flashed him smile after smile in between questions and flutters of fake eyelashes, and she couldn't find Regina anywhere. Killian's strangled voice rang in her ears when he answered the interviewer. "Just peachy. Sorry."

She was playing with her hair now, running her fingers through the ends like a nervous teenager, flashes of his delighted smile and endless jokes about her Superman panties from their very first time together bombarding her. God, this dress was stifling her, her breath appeared to be trapped insider her ribcage - or was it her heartache at the knowledge that it wouldn't be like that anytime soon? Maybe not ever?

Why had she agreed to wearing a fucking _leather_ dress, anyway? Everybody knew those were a clear no-no for prone-to-drama girls like her!

Philip's voice interrupted the shaking course her fingers kept tracing on her hair, halting them as she dropped her hands to her sides. "You just disclosed his darkest secret - he _is_ wearing his."

That seemed to bring Killian out of his shaken state, when they all smiled and laughed once more, teasing each other and shaking hands with Josh, promising to see him soon or at the after party - not without taking a selfie with his phone, all of them striking the most ridiculous poses.

Emma couldn't help but stare from afar. His smile, his eyes. His fingers gripping the mic. The way he licked his lips before he talked. How his forehead creased when he was thinking of an answer.

She wondered if she would ever stop herself from picking at the little things she loved about him.

Perhaps when you loved someone as much as they had once loved each other, loving them became a habit that you couldn't easily let go of; a source of comfort that you returned to in difficult times.

She kept lost in thought when a shadow fell over her and she looked up to find August studying her, a question in his eyes. They stood facing each other for a couple of seconds, just there, not really knowing what to do. Then he stepped towards her, his arms leaping out and enveloping her in a hug. She exhaled loudly against his chest, her hands buried between their bodies as she fought a hiccup, tears, something that kept clogging her throat and prevented her from swallowing.

She had missed August's bear hugs.

They pulled apart, and he smiled kindly at her. He scanned around them, looking for Graham she guessed, and finally shrugged seeing he was not nearby them at the moment. "Congratulations on the nom."

She had to try very hard to avoid rolling her eyes. That, she had not been missing so much - the teasing.

Ah, who was she kidding. She had missed that too. They were her boys after all.

Were they?

"Gee, thanks - that tree nearly breaking my back apparently was of use."

He chuckled, wrinkling his nose in a way that most women would have probably awed in adoration. "Is Henry around?"

She shook her head, scratching her arm distractedly. "No, no - he is at David's. Not really in the mood, you know," she explained, her voice dropping at the end. Henry... hadn't taken the news well. It hurt her knowing he was sad about Killian not being around anymore, but what could she really do? It wasn't like she had asked for it. She had been the one left.

Again.

Knowing that her son had been in the mix this time again - even if the last time he hadn't even been born, but they had both been abandoned by someone back then too, - made her want to beat herself. She deserved everything she had gotten herself into: she had been the one risking her job, her privacy, her _heart_ with that deal. Not Henry though.

"Yeah, we know the feeling." There was a pause, and at first, Emma didn't know what it was for. She stared at August, trying to read his nearly indecipherable look, until finally, she got it.

She got it.

"We miss you."

She gulped loudly, dropping her eyes to the ground, shiny heels glinting under the flashes still going off from the photographers behind the fence. "I miss you guys too."

"And he does. You should talk to him."

She let out a breath, shuddering, clammy palms gripping her arms in a tight grasp. "I don't think I'm ready for that. And let's not forget I was not the one who ended things."

August bit his lip, and she found herself fighting back a smile, knowing all too well how he used to do that when he was thinking hard about something. "We know that. But - I really think he's just afraid."

Facts. Dropped like shiny coins into a piggybank. Tiny lead balls. _Plunk. Plunk._

"Look, I - I can't do this now. I'm sorry," she said, and maybe she sounded a bit childish. Petulant. Like a little girl who just wanted her favorite toy back.

And boy, did she want her boy back. But could Killian be really considered her toy? Had he ever been hers in the first place?

Yes, yes he had, she berated herself. But that didn't change the fact that he wasn't hers _anymore_.

"Don't be. We know it's been difficult, but just hear me out: I have never in my life seen him so miserable," he continued, his expression becoming thoughtful. "Not even before the... you know."

She sighed, and she mused how he never would have noticed had it not been for the slight drop in her shoulders. She had mastered that move for years - her armor against people reading her, every trick in the book she had written in protecting herself against outsiders, against whomever might have tried to get to her. "I really don't know what you expect me to tell you. I made quite clear that I didn't want to break up, but he insisted. It's hard to try to hold on to someone who is willing to stay away from you. Makes you feel pretty unwanted."

He appeared taken aback by her statement. "You know it's exactly the opposite, right? Of course he wants you," he argued, a real incredulous expression on his face while he fixed her with his too-intense blue eyes.

"I wouldn't know. And I sure as hell am not going to ask him," she finally said, and her body, which had been tense with anger and vexation, deflated. "I don't mean to sound like a freaking child, but it was _his_ choice. And it hurt. Still hurts. But I can't do anything about it."

His mouths hanged open, floundering uselessly as he tried to form words to argue with her. Body deflating once more at being unable to find anything to fight back with, he dropped his gaze to the ground. "I know, and you have every right. Hell, we nearly beat him into a pulp when we found out - and he wouldn't tell us why the hell he did it."

_Tell me about it._

"He has always been prone to secrets. You know that," she conceded.

He nodded somberly, and the dark shadow that flashed across her eyes startled her momentarily. "We do. But it was you the only one who actually made him different, to try to let go of all those secrets. That's why I'd love for you to try to talk to him - he's reverting to his old self, and we are kind of worried." She was getting slightly concerned at the desperate tinge coloring his voice. Was it _that_ bad? She hadn't seen him looking too bad in that interview earlier. Or he was becoming a better actor she had given him credit for.

"I can't promise anything. If he is hurt, you must know what a mess _I_ am right now," she said, her voice weak and taut with pain.

There was a pregnant pause, and his hand came up to grip hers, squeezing her fingers tightly, reassuringly. "I'm so sorry Emma," he said, honesty pouring in every syllable. Emma knew he felt it may sound feeble, and probably useless, but she was grateful nevertheless.

She closed her eyes, feeling the warm night air drift in through the open window and caress her cheek. Things weren't supposed to have turned out this way between her and Killian. She wasn't supposed to still care. It was supposed to be a clean, simple break; sign on the dotted line, go there separate ways, and move on with their lives.

Yet here she was. Because a small part of her believed that it was not over, that something had pushed him to leave her, that there may be still hope for them.

How fucked up was that?

How fucked up it was that she still grasped the smallest hints at a happy ending - hers, specifically?

"I am too," she said soberly, and promptly sighed, staring tiredly at the rest of the carpet she had to walk, people she had to talk to, smile and greet. She turned to him for the last time. "See you later?"

"Sure," he agreed, nodding. Before she could step away from him, though, he stopped her, calling for her once more. "Hey."

"What?"

August smiled, small, sweet. "You look amazing."

Like nothing had ever happened. Like his best friend hadn't broken her heart. Like this was another occasion for all of them to enjoy their crazy lives together, supporting each other, an opportunity to tease the rest about their clothes and hairdos or squeal about which celebrity had brushed their arm or had sat at their side.

Like they were back to the start.

Was it childish, to hope to go back?

Never had she wished so bad to be in Neverland than then.

"Thank you. You don't look so bad yourself," she said, and it almost sounded like banter.

He halted her yet again before she stepped away from him. "And hear me out - you two will get past through this. I know it."

She looked at him sadly over her shoulder, shaking her head. She felt like an old lady about to crush a kid's dream. Santa is not real, and there are no fairy godmothers out there for anyone. And she sure as hell wasn't a princess, a queen. Nor a savior.

"Just because you wish upon a star, it doesn't mean it'll come true, Booth."

"Maybe if you wish hard enough," he answered, shrugging, and her eyes fluttered shut, the threat of tears imminent.

When she opened them again, he was gone, and Emma could had fooled herself into thinking he hadn't spoken to her at all, if not for the sudden memory of a blue, wax star, now hidden in her bedside drawer along with the swan necklace she had kept in there for years.

* * *

"Moment of truth."

"Repeat after me: Twilight kids" she muttered softly at him, and afraid that he hadn't caught it, she was about to repeat it in his ear, inching closer to him when he was responding her. "Twilight kids."

She nodded, pleased that he got it. "Twilight kids, yeah."

They were safe for that one. Those two _always_ won.

The presenters proceeded to announce the nominees, and the previously recorded footage of the nominated kisses of the year started rolling. Emma watched, cocking her head to the side and smiling broadly when her bet for the night came up. Yeah, Graham and she were _so_ in the clear for this nomination. Everybody wanted the Twilight kids up there, hoping for them to kiss at least once for the audience's sake. They had been putting it off every year, and she was sure their fans would make anything for them to give the fan base what they thought the poor couple owed them.

"Oh my _GOD,_ are they showing it? Jesus." Her smug smile fell rapidly when _their_ kiss was announced in the obnoxious taped voice from the video, and there they were. The crowd went completely crazy, catcalls and whooping overpowering the music playing in the background of the heated encounter in the woods that had brought her so many headaches while filming.

Graham snickered beside her, eyes glinting and not tearing them apart from their reflection in the screen. "You look so good."

"Give me a rest, will you?" she asked, shooting a glare in his direction to silence him.

He ignored her, but seconds later, when the cheering and clapping went down and the presenters started opening the envelope, he patted her arm warmly, and she turned to see him mouthing at her 'Twilight kids'.

She choked back a laugh.

"And the Best Kiss Award goes to... real life fairy tale characters Graham Humbert and Emma Swan!"

...hold on.

Those were _not_ the names of the Twilight kids.

Emma wondered if it would be frowned upon for her to retire at the ripe old age of twenty-eight. She sighed and rubbed wearily at her temples as she turned to look at Graham, trying to shoo the panic away.

In vain.

"Please tell me this is a joke."

He appeared as floored as her, shaking himself and blinking rapidly, like he was caught up dreaming or something. She was oddly tempted to punch him just to prove a point - _'you are awake Graham, get over it, dammit'._ "Maybe if we repeat Twilight kids enough it will be them winning," he finally uttered, recovering from his shock and getting up. She stayed on her seat though, still completely at odds about what to do with her life at that moment. What the hell had she been thinking attending this thing? Like, seriously? What had she expected she'd achieve at all? "Emma. _Get up_."

He hauled her none-too-gently from her seat, and they trekked to the stage taking their own sweet time. If she weren't in such a dire position at the moment, she would have cracked up at their situation - here they were, both scared shitless of going up there to take their award, walking as slowly as they could to prolong the inevitable moment they'd have to deliver some kind of speech or kiss or whatever they were expected to do. "What are we supposed to say?," she whispered in his ear while the theme song of their movie blasted from the speakers arranged through the whole theater, scenes from the kiss replaying again on every stupidly ginormous screen covering every inch of free surface on the stage and its surroundings. Graham gripped her waist tightly, and she nearly winced at the way his fingers clawed at her.

"I _knew_ you hadn't prepared anything! Just follow my lead," Graham answered, his eyes widening in disbelief. "And try to refrain yourself from biting my head off," he added as an afterthought in a low whisper, words so rushed past his lips she nearly didn't catch them, but she did, and she was really tempted to ask him what he meant by that - but afraid of what the answer might be, so she just kept walking, letting him guide her up the stage.

Helping her up the few steps that led to the main stage, they finally joined the presenters, hugging and congratulating them excitedly in a hurried manner before giving them their cue to address the audience. Emma tucked the award under her arm - God, was it heavy, and hold on, was it golden _popcorn_?!, - and put some strands of hair behind her ear with a shaking hand. She licked her lips, clearing her throat in a vain attempt not to sound like a screeching mess when she finally dared to talk.

Now or never, Swan. Let's do it.

Foregoing her costar, she approached the mic on the stand sitting in front of them, a childish urge begging for her to tap it with her finger and try some lame soundproof line to the audience. She resisted it, though - it was definitely not the time for those. "Wow. We really were not expecting this, I mean - have you seen those other couples?," she rushed in between heavy breaths, a shaking finger pointing behind her to one of the screens behind them still showing the infamous kiss, now winner of the award.

Fuck her life.

Graham stepped closer to her, bumping his hip with hers playfully and leaning closer to the mic, shoving her lightly to the side to give his piece. "What I love most about Emma is how appreciated she makes me feel when she dismisses my kiss in front of the whole planet," he joked, and a loud uproar of guffaws could be heard from below them.

"Shut up, I didn't mean it like that," Emma huffed insistently, shooting a glare in Graham's direction.

He stood up straighter, giving her a mocking pout than soon morphed into a wolfish grin. "Make me."

Oh.

So they were playing _that_ game.

And she was not the only one who had caught on it, as the entire theater had prompted into ear-deafening screams and urging catcalls. Ignoring him, she whirled around to mock gather the audience's reaction, putting up her arms in a powerless manner. _'What can a girl do, when this guy is asking her to kiss him, huh? I have it so bad, you guys'_

She jerked her chin in his direction, eyes still trained in the mass of blurred faces intently watching her every move. "He's asking for it."

Not one to stand on ceremony, she walked in her costar's direction, who waited for her with a smirk plastered on his face. Fisting her hand in his shirt, she brought his face to her level, her lips claiming his just like they had when they were shooting for their movie. They moved together for a couple of seconds, and Emma couldn't help but shudder. She had missed been kissed. Thoroughly kissed, like coming home in the other's mouth, finding what you have been looking for in their lips. Like knowing that every answer could be trapped behind them, only your own the key to set them free.

And she _felt_ it.

Emma had always hated that feeling. Like when you are waiting for the water in the shower to turn warm, and you keep putting your hand under it, and after a while it feels like it is warm - because it has grown accustomed to the temperature. And when you jump in, it is not warm, not by a long shot. It is cold, colder as ever, and you curse at yourself for believing otherwise, for trusting your silly hand, which had been fooled into believing it wasn't.

She knew what was going on right at that moment, even when her eyes were shut closed and she had no way to see the screens surrounding them, Killian's face on each one of them. She should have guessed that they would pull something like this just to add drama to the whole thing. Of fucking course. Like it was not enough to try to get over a breakup - hey, let's treat everybody to our misery and wave it around like a fucking white flag, right? Sounds like fun!

She and Graham pulled back from each other at the same time, and taking their fake popcorn-shaped award in his hand, he waved and added hurriedly before putting a warm hand on her lower back and pushing her towards the backstage, "Thank you guys, we really appreciate it."

She focused on her steps, deadly afraid of falling and spraining her ankle - and how embarrassing would that be, now that she had almost made it all through the evening? until they got to the chaotic, people-filled hallways from the backstage area. She flushed and smiled awkwardly when some other attendees patted them on the back and congratulated them on their win, making small talk with some of them and forgetting about what had just come down.

She had kissed Graham out there. Not only that, they had shown Killian's reaction to said kiss, in a Justin-Timberlake-not-amused-face-while-Britney-ki ssed-Madonna classic stunt. That had been low, even for MTV.

Jesus, she could almost see her headache knocking at her door. She slumped against a bare wall, clenching her eyes shut and trying to forget about everything that had happened that day. And it wasn't even over yet.

"You okay?"

She opened her eyes, and saw Graham staring her down worriedly. She debated between giving him the reassuring answer or the honest one. "Yeah." Emma hung her head and nodded, but she didn't want to waste any more time being comforted, - it looked like it was all he kept doing that day, for fuck's sake.

Graham did not appear convinced, and he seemed to decide to not let it go for the time being. He turned to focus his attention on her. "You don't have to lie to me, you know."

"What do you think?," she asked in a weak voice, not sure she wanted to know the answer.

"That was a douche move."

"We should have expected it nevertheless."

"Emma..."

She clenched her eyes shut once more, her tone growing hysterical when she started rushing words and letting herself just explode after everything that had been festering inside of her for the last weeks and the raging emotions that had reached their peak that very day. "This - this is too much. I just want to let everything go, I want it to stop hurting." She could spy Graham's expression morphing to one of surprise at her admission, but he schooled it hurriedly once more and wisely remained silent, urging her to go on with a motion of his head. "Does it make me a bad person if all I want to do right now is run away? Go to Europe, bury myself under work, even away from you guys, from Henry? I can't stand seeing him sad. And worried about me. He's ten! And now not only do I have to fight for keeping my son, but I have to deal with... with..."

"A heartbreak," Graham finished for her in a whisper, studying her from under his lashes. She almost cackled at the understanding in his face. Considering he had no clue about what had really gone down between her and his friend, it made the situation the more hilarious to her.

"If you only knew," she answered coolly, rubbing her hands agains her forearms in rough tugs. He frowned, and she could see the inner struggle he appeared to be battling. After a couple of seconds, he stepped closer to her, his head tilted to the side and examining her quietly.

"I would if you told me."

She felt trapped by his stare. Should she tell him? At this point, she really wanted to. There was no contract to pay respect to anymore, right? And she trusted Graham. She could use another friend who would understand what had happened. She would have loved to tell Graham everything from the very start - the fucked up journey between her and Killian from unlikely friends to lovers.

Funny how Henry had once told her that she and the musician were not only girlfriend and boyfriend. He had claimed they were_ soul mates_. She had just waved him off, fluffing his hair in amusement and fighting the urge not to laugh as to not piss him off, and making a mental note to tell Killian later when they talked on the phone, knowing he'd find her son's statement equally hilarious.

Maybe not soul mates.

Maybe he was just... his lobster.

"Um, excuse me guys?" They whirled around to find one of the crew members from the awards barely managing to handle the camera he was holding along with a clipboard and the headphones over his hair slightly askew. He turned panicked eyes from her costar to her, gulping loudly. "You have to go back to your seats now, follow this guy and he'll show you to them. You may have to go back once more for the last award you're all nominated."

Emma and Graham shared a look and nodded gratefully to the poor guy, who looked about to suffer from cardiac arrest. "Sorry. On it."

They followed another crew member back to the seating area, where Ruby was already waiting for them, a proud smirk already curling her mouth that Emma wanted nothing more than swipe off those pretty red lips of hers. Just as she took her place beside the brunette, the lights dimmed, and she waited with baited breath for the host or that annoying voice announcing the next category's presenters to show up. But it was when the spotlight illuminated another stage when she realized what was going on.

She _knew_ what was coming.

She shared a significant look with Ruby, and an ominous chill wended its way down her spine when the host's voice came from a side stage where an all-too-familiar music set was already arranged, the band's logo proudly adorning Jefferson's drums - the same logo on the hoodie hanging inside her wardrobe. "And now, one of the most awaited moments of the night. It was really difficult to get a hold of these guys, let me tell you - with all the flying around and all. The fact that they are not from this land comes to mind too. And of course: they are freaking _children_ who never want to grow up, so making appointments with them is kind of hard. But we love them anyway, and now, here they are! The Lost Boys!"

When Emma gulped audibly at the sight of the band entering and taking their usual places, Ruby went to lay a comforting hand on her arm, but Emma stopped her with a low hiss. "Don't. They'll be filming my reaction the whole time, don't even try."

"...I was only going to say that your nipple is about to show," Ruby says, who appeared to be on the verge of chuckling.

What?!

Her attention momentarily blinded by such an outrageous piece of information, she dropped her gaze towards her chest, fingers already clasping the edge of her dress just in case... to find it perfectly in place, only showing the exact amount of cleavage it was supposed to. She let out a shuddering breath of relief. She _so_ not needed to be added to the nip slip category on some trashy magazine. "Oh God."

Ruby giggled like a five year old at her side, shoulders shaking in mirth and covering her mouth with her hand. "I was kidding."

"I hate you."

"And I made you smile."

Emma forgot about the music about to start playing, about the voice she was about to listen, about his music, about _him_ showing up in every screen in that damned theater - her eyes sought her friend's, and she felt her lips stretching, just for her. She clasped her hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze, and smiled brighter at Ruby's soft reflecting one. "Thank you."

And, before she knew it, the music broke, and they were lost into the rhythm and the beat, the familiar melody and lyrics strangely soothing her, welcoming her home.

She hadn't played any of their songs since they had broken up. She hadn't even realized she had actually missed it, their music. She internally sang and hummed to herself every line, her eyes following Killian's moves on the stage, the way he plucked the strings on his guitar and asked for the crowd to join in the chorus, almost bringing the whole theater down with the way they were responding to their performance.

And then, when she thought the last bit of the song would bring them to the end of their show, the music took an unexpected turn, changing keys and speed and morphing into another song completely.

Emma frowned, confused. What were they doing? She hadn't known they were planning to mash up two of their songs. Well, she thought with a flinch, she guessed she was not privy of that kind of information anymore, now, was she?

But it was the fact that it was not a song she had ever heard of them that made her wary. She sat in her place, fingers clenched on the armrests and hoping to God the cameras would not choose right then to get a peek of her expression, because she had no idea what she was looking like at the moment.

Until she heard the words _lost girl_.

Shock. It took its heavy, hard fist and pitched it into the side of her head. For a second she couldn't even remember where she was. All she could think about was her nickname, flitting from between his lips, and settling on her skin like a breeze.

"Oh my God," she murmured in an strangled whisper, and hoped that only Ruby had heard her, but her friend looked equally shocked at the sudden revelation of the song from the new album - because what else could it be?

A melody, gently pushing aside the introduction with a courteous bow, and harmonies flitting in and out and alongside said melody like butterflies in a flower garden.

And, just like with any other of his songs, she felt herself fly to another place, another time, scenes, colors, smells blurring together and enveloping her in a gentle hug.

She saw walls, fights, angry remarks. Fear of letting someone in. The possibility, the flame of hope igniting inside of a wary, broken heart.

She visualized lazy grins. A dare. A promise to count smiles.

Frantic kisses. Broken selves and comforting against a wall. Exchanged stories.

Flying to a song. Falling.

Conversations from each corner of the world.

The promise of finding each other, no matter how lost she felt.

A final run of chords.

An end.

_And a beginning._

She abruptly found herself stumbling back against her seat, and she couldn't for the life of her dare to hide the shock on her face, cameras be damned. He had written a song about her. About them.

_For her._

Why the hell had he done that? And why sing it _there_? Why, after breaking up with her?

She knew there was something he hadn't told her - she knew there was something fishy about the whole thing. Of course she had known, but until he shared it with her, she was in the dark, as always, being left for 'her best chance' or whatever. But here he was, promising he would find a way back to her.

She had no idea what to make of this whole thing. Not a fucking clue.

Cheers and excited clapping filled the auditorium, everybody in the crowd getting up to jump and express their delight after such a performance, impromptu song from their new album included. Before they left the stage, while the guys stepped away from their instruments and huddled together with their frontman, the host came back, whooping along with the audience over her mic. "That was _amazing_! Where did you come from?"

Killian bit his lip, cocking his head to the side like he were giving his answer quite the time of his day to think it through. "Neverland, love," he replied after a couple of seconds, and with a small smile, he added, "where we are all timeless."

Emma couldn't help but think that his voice was… not quite right. His words seemed to float and drift around them, and it lacked his usual bravado, cockiness and teasing tilt. It was very un-Killian-like, and it made her uneasy.

And then the camera focused on his face, and she could swear he was staring back at her, finding her in the sea of people on their feet cheering for him, his music and his talent. He drank her with his eyes, wet with longing. Regret. Sadness.

And she couldn't help but think that hers were a exact replica of his.

* * *

"Why aren't you carrying around your awards?"

"Because I'm not a bitch who enjoys flaunting around," she told her, and cringed at how slurred her words were. How much had she drunk? How long had she been in this stupid party? She hadn't wanted to come, but per Regina's advice and Ruby and Graham's pleas she had caved in, warily warning them that she would definitely not go on good terms and that she'd probably act like a bitch the whole time.

At least she was honest. She liked to claim she was forthcoming about anything she did, after all.

Ruby arched an eyebrow at her. "Woah, look at that. The snappy comments and sarcasm are back. Who would have thought it'd take just a couple of mojitos to get you to act relatively normal again."

Emma reached over to take a sip of her drink and mentally crossed her fingers for her best friend to leave her the fuck alone. She was _so_ not in the mood. "Do you want me to stab you with my heel?"

Dammit. Why couldn't she say anything nicely?

She turned around to scan the crowd just in case Anton or Ab were around there - at least with them she would have to try to restrain her not-happy-camper demeanor. She would never treat Anton to her bitchy side, the guy was too nice for that - shame on whoever who dared to be an ass to him. Being anything but nice to Anton should be punchable by the law.

A lilting voice paused her, and there was Graham, holding a glass on his hand and looking at her incredulously. "Is Emma PMSing again?"

"You are awfully close to make me punch you in the face again, Humbert," she said, unable to cage her scorn. It lashed out like an angry beast, furious with its capture. He put his hands in front of him in an attempt to look innocent, pouting his lip at her.

"I was just trying to lighten the mood."

"Talking about a girl's period? Really smooth," Emma replied curtly, glaring at him over the rim of her glass.

Ruby simply scoffed at her, though, snatching her mojito from her and taking it in her hands, blatantly ignoring her yell of protest. "Lay down the rum, girl."

Emma crossed her arms across her chest, a faraway corner of her mind reminding her that the motion would probably only help to attract unabashed ogling of her boobs, but she was beyond the point of caring as it seemed. She was about to call out Ruby on her hypocritical behavior, seeing as the brunette was now sipping both from Emma's and her own drink after calling her a drunkie happy partier, when her friend grumbled under her breath while her eyes focused intently on something on the other side of the club, beside the bar.

"Guess who's also drowning himself in rum..."

Emma didn't need to know who she was talking about. She had seen him earlier there along with his friends - thus, she kept to her side of the room, and she guessed he had silently agreed on staying on his. She felt utterly ridiculous, if she were completely honest. They were adults, for fuck's sake, and there they were: acting like children who would get into a fight and draw a line with chalk on the ground, banning the other from stepping on it. _'You are not welcome here', 'We are no longer friends', 'I don't like you anymore'._

If only their misunderstanding would resolve just like those fights when they were young. A hug, a sudden desire to find a playmate, a discovery of something and the urge to show it to them.

But the man sitting on the opposite side of the club and her were not children. Not anymore.

"You did _not_ go there," Emma finally let out in a growl, when her friend hesitated to speak. Ruby sighed, resigning herself to explain.

"I'm sorry but Victor told me to keep an eye on him while he was mingling around looking for possible connections and stuff. It'd normally be He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's job, with all that charisma and all, but guess he's not up to it tonight."

She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could get the words out, she was interrupted by Graham, who had been silent during their exchange and peeked out over their heads to Killian right by the bar with a cocked eyebrow. "He's not drunk, I just spoke to him and he was fine."

He _what_?

"You _talked_ to him?" she croaked. When he did not respond, she cleared her throat and asked it again in a stronger voice. "Did you?"

"What? Can't I or what?"

"I - I just..." but she cut herself off. A quick slice, and the sentence was decapitated, the already-said bit falling with a _thud_ to the floor. She was going to tell him that she couldn't believe he had talked to him, that he had no idea what he had done to her, that it _hurt_ to know that he had been able to go and exchange words with him while she stayed there, unable to be around him. But the words got clogged in her throat. A traffic jam, stuck among everything else she wanted to say. None of them could get out.

If he heard the beginnings of her sentence, he didn't show it. And for once, Emma felt a bit ashamed of herself, because Graham looked rightly pissed off. Like, _really_ pissed off. "Is this some kind of Team Emma vs Team Killian thing? Because let me tell you, that's rubbish and I am so not playing that. He is my friend, and I'm sorry you two broke up, but I'm sure there's a side to his story too, and he's obviously having a rough time."

There was a pause, and she could see from the corner of her eye how Ruby's gaze went from him to her nervously, dreading a fight between the two costars. "I wasn't going to tell you to stop talking to him," she muttered as she finally managed to tear her eyes away from him.

"Yeah, you looked about to murder me on the spot instead."

Emma gasped, offended. "I was not. I was just surprised," she stammered, her mind spinning.

"You want to talk to him too."

Reason number 4815162342 to hate the bastard: apparently, now, everybody could fucking read her like an open book. And she _hated_ it.

She was tipsy, she was lonely, and she _ached_ to talk to him.

She paused, not entirely sure she wanted to tell him the truth. Finally, she gave in with a sigh and agreed, "I miss him."

She missed fighting with him, even if she had always whined about their rows. She missed him challenging her, getting a rise out of her, but most of all, she just liked being the centre of his attention, as brat-ish and selfish as it may sound. One would think she would have forgotten about what their little spats were about. How she wouldn't remember their twenty-minute argument sparked by a remark about Ruby's supposed reputation during college or their shouting match starting with a chocolate stained shirt he had blamed on her on May 25th.

Yet she did.

She would give anything for one of their shouting showdowns, as crazy as it may have sounded.

"You can go over there and talk to him, you know. It won't be the end of the world." Graham told her, returning his gaze to her, holding his drink out of her reach like he were afraid she'd snatch it from him to take a gulp. He stared her down with a dead serious expression. "But only if you are positive you'll be able to not make a scene. That's why you should definitely lay down the rum."

Breathe in, breathe out.

You can do this.

"I am okay." It was more of a statement than a question.

After a reassuring nod from both Ruby and Graham, she swirled around, gritting her teeth in annoyance at the perceptibly falter in her step while she made her way between the sea of bodies gathered in the party. Blood pumping in her ears, she would swear she had no idea where she was really supposed to be going, but her feet carried her on its own accord, like they were indeed magnets, like she was some kind of compass pointing in his direction. Through the press of bodies she saw a row of booths against the bar she had thought she had seen him earlier, none of his bandmates now around for her to run into. Huh. She headed in that direction nevertheless. Between bare shoulders, backs and the most expensive dresses you'd find in your life together in a room, Emma caught a glimpse of tousled dark hair. Her chest constricted painfully, hands already sweating at the prospect of talking to him. She pushed between a couple who seemed too intent in dry humping in the middle of the dance floor to anyone's taste and finally caught a sight of Killian.

But he was not alone.

In fact, he was _anything_ but that.

He sat in one of the booths, with a dark skinned girl sprawled over his chest playing with his hair as she leaned and whispered something in his ear. He smiled contentedly, his eyes closed. Emma stood frozen in place, unable to breathe, to think, to do _anything_, not even able to tear her gaze from that other woman fisting his hair on her hand.

_Enough._

_That's enough._

She had to get out of there. She even stumbled back a few steps and into a girl, who snarled a curse at her before striding in the other direction.

Her eyes fell closed, and she could taste bile in the back of her throat. She rubbed her eyelids furiously, to the point that it hurt, a faraway corner of her mind chastising her for possibly ruining her makeup and already dreading Ruby's reaction - and how ridiculous she was that she kept going back to such trivial things when the image burnt behind her eyelids kept making her want to throw up?

Right as she was about to spin around and go back to Ruby and plead with her to leave that fucking party pronto, someone's head leaned forward over her shoulder, like a toddler about to share a secret. "Funny, huh?"

She didn't need to turn to know who it was. That voice, she remembered. And of course a couple of long, dark curls that were unpleasantly tickling her neck gave her away.

She fought to maintain her composure, years of masking her true feelings coming in handy as she spoke with a voice void of any emotion. "What is?"

Milah chuckled - an empty, hollow sound. "Seeing him jumping to someone else's arms right after he was with you?" She rounded to stand in front of her, like a predator examining her prey before the attack. She inched closer, a smug smile curling her lips. "Guess you now know how it feels."

Could she be so bitter about it? What the fuck was wrong with this woman? She could not believe she was being so spiteful towards her. As far as she knew, Emma had done nothing to her. She had had nothing to do with her until Killian entered the picture, and she guessed she could understand the resentment towards an ex finding another one filling your place, but this was just plain cruel.

Bitch Behavior 201, anyone? This gal could teach it.

She remained impassive, even trying to appear bored - even though she suspected she was not being all that successful. Damn those mojitos. "You should know _all_ about it."

"Don't fret, princess. Soon he'll be a hazy memory, a half remembered dream you'll cling to during lonely nights," Milah commented with a shake of her head. "While he spends them with another. Don't beat yourself up. It's who he is," she added, and the words left her lips as easily as water. Emma's hands were trembling down where they hanged at her sides.

_It's who he is_, she had said.

She remembered how he would open the door for her whenever they went somewhere. The concert he had organized along with the boys when she had been down about the whole thing with Neal. How he would try not to wake her when he couldn't sleep and would go to the window seat in her room to read a book or smoke a cigarette. Sometimes she would sit with him there, and they would sit opposite each other with her feet in his lap, hitting him square in the chest when he tickled her mercilessly. Then she would wriggle out and move to sit nestled in between his legs, her back cradled against his chest. And they would sit, talk, banter, or just sit in silence, both of them wrapped up in their own thoughts, but still connected to each other.

_It's just who he is._

Was it really that long ago that they had been happy?

"You know nothing about him, then," Emma bit back angrily, eyes flashing as she glared at the other woman who had managed to capture Killian's heart once upon a time.

Milah just huffed petulantly in response. "Oh, acting all high and mighty, are we? Well, guess what: no matter how well you think you know him, he still dumped you and is now sucking that girl's face off."

And, for the second time in not such a long time, Emma snapped.

And, you know, she threw a drink in someone else's face.

In fact, she threw that someone else's drink to her face.

Her arm had leapt out on its own accord, snatching Milah's glass from her grasp and throwing the rosy liquid - what the hell had she been drinking, Jesus, - to her face. She looked, impassive, as the other woman swiped angrily at the rest of her drink from her cheeks and forehead, her eyes attempting to appear threatening while she dabbed at them with her hands. "You'll pay for that," she growled.

Oh. Chills.

Emma could feel her blood nearly boil in her rage. Her hand came up on its own accord, a finger - not shaking for once, not even in anger, - dangerously close to the other woman's nose. "You'd better get the hell away from me, sister, or I'll tell everybody what you did. We wouldn't want your husband hearing about it, now, would we?," she hissed, her anger uncontrollable. She knew maybe she shouldn't be taking it out on her, of all people, but she couldn't bottle it up. And hell, had the woman irked her with all that crap. She was angry at her for being a controlling and smug bitch, and she was angry at herself because she had been so stupid, so blind, so slow. She was furious, and it leaked out of her like poison.

Milah glared at her, spitting words at her in between clenched teeth. "You wouldn't. Not if it means compromising Killian."

Emma rose a challenging eyebrow in response. "What do I owe him? As you said, he dumped me. Me and my son. Me and my family. I have nothing left to lose," she choked on the last word, because she realized that was exactly what that was. That was it. She was done. Her last straw on the matter. "And don't push me: you may think you know who I am, but I can be the nastiest bitch you'll ever run into in your life."

She half expected Milah to stay and yell at her some more - or even hit her. Hell, that'd be quite the plot twist. But she left, and Emma didn't try to stop her.

Out of nowhere, she could feel herself being bodily hauled away from her place and towards a more secluded spot in the club. She tried to throw off Graham's grip, but her thoughts were too scattered - not to mention the effects from her earlier mojitos , - for her struggles to be very effective.

Emma finally gave up and allowed herself to be dragged down the dance floor and against one of the walls, her head banging against it with a soft _thump_. Gazing up, she encountered stormy hazel eyes staring daggers at her.

Uh oh.

"Emma, what was that? _Who_ was that?" Under any other circumstances, Emma would have found the stern look on Graham's face amusing. Instead, she simply nodded at him, like he had just asked her about the weather.

"Oh, no one. Apparently she needed some cooling off. I helped her."

He stepped back, looking at her like he didn't recognize her. She wouldn't fight him against that - she barely felt like herself at the moment either. "Are you fucking serious? What the hell is wrong with you? I told you not to make a scene. Do you know what they'll say tomorrow?"

"I don't care."

"Don't lie," he bit back.

Emma decided to steer the conversation back to the matter at hand. "I really don't. I am sick and tired of pretending and of doing everything I am supposed to and wondering what everybody will think of me. I am done." Her voice broke, and she could feel uncharacteristic tears pricking her eyes, but at that moment, she didn't care that she was practically crying in front of Graham in the middle of the stupid after party of the stupid MTV Movie Awards.

Graham didn't look about to back down. Of course. Because why would anyone be accommodating at this point, huh? "But Emma..."

"Shut up," she asked him in a pleading sort of voice.

"Emma, please, I'm just trying to..."

She edged closer to him, until their noses were nearly brushing, and her voice came out even and controlled, carefully enunciating every syllable, her earlier near break down being shoved violently in a corner of her chest, not to be left out until she was safe and sound, alone. "I told you to. Shut. Up."

Like she gave a flying fuck about whatever he wanted to tell her.

And before he could stop her, she had slipped her hands around the back of his head and tugged his lips down to meet hers. It was a rather short, intense peck, a clash of feelings meeting halfway between their lips. She could feel Graham's shock, and her own at her brazing actions brought her to a halt.

Yeah, that was the second time she kissed Graham Humbert that day.

But, for once, she didn't feel bad about it. Even if an unpleasant feeling had crept upon her when she had stood on the tip of her toes to reach his mouth, knowing that the man whose lips were about to touch hers was not the one.

Extricating herself from their kiss, she ignored pointed glances and murmurs surrounding them. They stood there, unmoving, not even touching each other, just basking in the silence and relatively quiet after their encounter, until she finally met his eyes, a sudden determination sparking inside of her.

Here came 300% done with everything Emma Swan. A classic, folks. An Emma Swan who gave a shit what they said if she kissed her very attractive costar after witnessing her very attractive ex swapping spit with some random bimbo. She no longer cared.

Right now? She would focus on her son. That was it. No more letting herself being swept off her feet by men who would later break her heart, intentionally or not. She would have loved for Killian's song and message to be true - and who knew, really, maybe he had intended to make an statement about it. Or maybe he had just written it when they had still been together and had seen its potential and had had to sing it. She really was having a hard time to believe anything now, to dare to hope anything concerning their relationship after the scene she had been privy of minutes earlier.

She turned to Graham once more, who looked at her like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Now. There," she stated, extending her hand out like she could show him the kiss they had just shared. Which she couldn't, because there were no holograms invented yet, but whatever. _Focus, Emma._ Gathering her bearings, she sighed. "See? That was a kiss. A freaking _peck_. The tiniest bit of contact between our lips. I know _you_ know what it means. It means I was looking for a way to shut you up. _I_ know that too. But hell if it won't fuel what everybody already thinks that happened. And I did it anyway," she explained, and continued before he could put in another word. "I really don't care anymore, just because_ I_ know what I want." she added, and her voice was no longer tired. No longer cracked or creaky, no longer wary of what may come from whatever it was that had happened. "What I still want, even if it's not mine. Even if I shouldn't."

And how ironic was that.

But, as the words passed her lips, she realized that for some things in life, there never had to be a reason. Some things just _were_, and although things might have been easier if they _weren't_, she would hate to have never heard him sing, to smell his scent or feel his skin against hers.

Some things were just meant to be, one way or another.

* * *

_**hiiiiya there!**_

_**so, we got to see what was Emma's take on the whole stand down from last chapter. (By the way - I have never been yelled at that much in my life. Woah. You intense bunch). We got Granny being her awesome geriatric self, we got another Josh interview (I HAD WRITTEN HIS PART BEFORE COMIC CON I SWEAR) (I LOVE THAT GUY), we got MTV being her MTV self... and shit hits the fan AGAIN. **_

_**I expect the yelling. **_

_**We'll see.**_

_**Now, some things: I'm leaving on Sunday because I'm taking a course in a city in the other side of the country, so I'm not sure when I'll be able to update. I'll let you guys know via Tumblr.**_

_**Also, a response to a reviewer: as a guest, I have NO means to answer you on here. I haven't deleted any reviews, but apparently has a one-two days policy before publishing guest reviews, so that's why yours didn't show. If you want me to answer, please go to Tumblr where I at least can answer to anon messages in case you don't own an account. **_

_**Have a good one, folks, and see you next chapter! I love ALL of you, you precious beings/beans, you! *fluffs readers' auras***_

_**PS: "You'll Never Know" by The Maine, "Strange and Beautiful" by Aqualung, "Riverside" by Agnes Obel and "The No No Song" by The Sounds (aka the song of any fangirl. Because NONONO every time we stare at Colin) helped to give birth to this chapter. It was painful. Ended in tears. True story. **_


	28. Chapter 28: Everybody Lies

_**Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or Once Upon A Time - the trolls Edward Kitsis and Adam Horowitz do. If I did, I'd make them canon faster than lighting.**_

* * *

Killian was trying _really_ hard not to grimace, opting to take generous gulps of his rum instead of pondering and examining every word he had jus exchanged with Humbert. His mate had come over to him while he had been trying to get the bartender's attention in order to get his drink, and Killian had to admit begrudgingly that it hadn't been such a warm welcome as he was used to share with his fellow, the memory of him kissing Emma during their acceptance speech still making him want to whirl on his heel and leave, curl up in a ball, sleep and forget that it had happened right in front of his eyes. Graham had apologized, and repeated over and over again how of course it had been all a show for the awards, and that both him and Emma agreed that it didn't mean anything at all.

Of course.

Even if his words were meant to be comforting, Killian had never been too keen on these kind of speeches, and he just knew he would need time to come to terms with the bitterness that clogged his insides and stopped him from gracefully accepting his apology - an apology completely unnecessary, now that they were at it. Emma could kiss whoever she wanted, she didn't owe him anything.

Thus, the rum.

Suddenly, a girl sidled up to his right, too close for Killian's comfort, who spied her from the corner of his eye distractedly. When she made no attempt to move at all, he barked, "You lost, love?"

She grinned, pearly white teeth flashing against the dark skin of her face. "Not at all - that'd be you, right, Lost Boy?"

He gave her a tight-lipped smile. Like he hadn't heard _that_ before. "Funny." In a swift movement, the girl's hand had picked up his drink from where it had been sitting over the counter. She took a generous sip, not tearing her gaze from his as she did. If she was trying to be flirtatious or cocky, he would have to tell her she was not succeeding at all. He was not amused by her stealing his beloved rum: he was definitely in _no_ mood for this. "I don't remember giving you permission for that."

She faked-gasped, arching an eyebrow at him. "Oh. What? Is your ex going to be mad at you?"

"Well, look who's up to speed," he replied, fighting the urge to snap at her. He had to keep some kind of composure in here. They were in public, after all. It'd be of no use to start a row in the stupid after party.

She tapped her painted nails against the cool glass of his drink, fixing him with a challenging smile. "I'm a quick learner."

"Then you'd know I'm definitely not interested."

She stepped closer to him then, her chest nearly brushing his, and his body instantly jerked away from hers, like it had burned him. It felt all kinds of wrong, her trying to feel him up, the unabashed flirting... everything. "Maybe not right now... give it a little time."

She didn't back down, did she?

Oh, well. She hadn't known the jerk he could _really_ be...

Closing his hand over hers, as if he were about to caress her fingers, he stared down at her, trapping her gaze with his for a couple of seconds until she was completely transfixed. "Darling, read my lips: not. interested," he uttered firmly, and with a final tug he snatched his glass back from her grip.

To his surprise, she didn't look too dejected by his rejection. In fact, he would say she even appeared interested, her expression carefully guarded before shrugging lightly, calling over her shoulder as she spun on her heel and left his side. "I'll check up on you later - just to make sure you haven't changed your mind."

He turned back to the bartender to ask for a refill after chugging the remains she had left, already forgetting the exchange and shaking his head, a sarcastic retort making its way past his lips without him even noticing. "I can't wait."

* * *

He had no idea where he was. What was he doing? What was that sound - that beat? Was that music? Where was he sitting? It was comfy. It was nice. It was soft to touch. He let his hand run over the material, marveling at its texture. His head leaned over the side, eyes unblinking, a million lights dancing in front of him.

Woah.

There was a girl sitting there with him. Oh God, her skin glowed, sweat mixing with her dark color, giving it a glistening complexion that he itched to caress.

Yet he couldn't for the life of him explain what he was thinking at the moment, his brain a confused and jumbled mess where every idea ran and flew around, making it impossible for him to follow from one to another.

And he ended up spouting things just like this.

"Your skin looks like coffee. Does it taste like coffee too?"

_Emma hated coffee._

He thought he heard the girl muttering something angrily under her breath, but he had no way to find out - nor was he too interested to be completely fair, rapidly deciding it was a _way_ better idea to lay on the booth instead. Before he could change positions, though, he was jerked upright violently and a livid voice cleared minimally the haze in his mind. "Killian, what the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"He's with me." A feminine voice. Coffee girl voice?

"Get the hell away from him. Now." Oh, male voice.

Wait. He _knew_ that voice.

Jeff? Was that Jeff? Why was he yelling? Was he mad at him? Killian hated when Jeff got mad at him - he had quite the temper, and so did he, and they both usually had rows about the pettiest things from now and then, but they usually forgot about them in no time. He hoped whatever had sent him off this time would pass too. He would have to write him a little poem to ask for his forgiveness if he stayed mad for too long.

Wait, why was he mad?

Why was Jeff there anyway?

Where _were_ they?

"But..." The girl who was sitting beside him - _on_ him - _what was even going on?_ - tried to protest against his friend's attempts at prying him away from her and the booth he had claimed as his bed. It was too comfortable in there.

"I said get your greasy paws away from him. Got it?"

Killian wanted to tell him that coffee girl's hands were all but greasy paws - though that glow he had noticed on her skin earlier could lead to confusion as to greasy. Maybe sweaty? Who knew really? But they were definitely not paws. That was just rude. Jeff was so rude.

But no words came out, even if he tried to smack his friend on the arm, only managing a half-arsed and pathetic pat.

Coffee girl talked once more before getting up and leaving. "Fine. Tell him we had the _best_ time, and that we can have a second go whenever he wants."

"Sure thing."

Bored with the whole exchange - or, to better phrase it, completely confused, as he had been since he could remember with everything surrounding him, - Killian tried to talk then, his feet failing him as he tried to put one right after the other. "Jeff... I..."

His friend didn't seem so intent in letting him speak, though, setting Killian's arm over his own shoulders and wrapping an arm around his waist to keep him upright, half-dragging him along the throngs of people around them. "Shut up, we need to go. Through the back; I bet it'll be swimming with paps and whatnot everywhere but we need to try. August is waiting for us there."

Killian could feel wetness on his face, and he was panicked to realize he had no idea if it was due to sweat or tears at his inability to fucking do _anything_ at all - he could barely think straight. Fear was starting to paralyze him and he couldn't stop it from clogging his throat. "I... I can't... move..."

He noticed they stopped. He felt hands, cool hands grabbing his face and tilting it towards a face, hazel eyes meeting his. "Hey, it's okay. We got you."

And after that, darkness welcomed him like an old friend.

* * *

There were voices.

Voices calling for him.

Was he dead? Was this Heaven?

"Killian?" A beat. Two. Three. Then, the voice resumed calling for him, and he decided this was definitely not Heaven, or the voice would belong to someone else. "Killian please, say something."

It was August's.

Passing his tongue over cracked and dry lips leisurely, he managed to mutter under his breath a word just to let them know he was indeed awake. And alive. And his brain, apparently, worked. Or so he thought at least. "Groan."

He heard them let out a nervous and somewhat shaky laugh. He opened bleary eyes, blinking profusely against the light streaming down the window and focusing on the silhouettes surrounding him. His four fucking guardian angels, each one of them standing at the sides of his bed.

"That's funny. At least your mojo seems to be intact." Jefferson whirled around and picked up a cup, holding it out to him. Killian propped himself against the pillow, a slightly trembling hand taking it from him and managing to take a couple of gulps. "How are you feeling?"

He cleared his throat, and winced visibly when he heard the raspy edge of his voice when he answered. "Like a truck ran me down. Several times." He paused for a moment, looking at himself and wondering why in hell he felt so awful and yet appeared to be clear of bruises or whatever scar that may give him any clue as to why he felt such discomfort and haziness. "What happened?"

The fact that neither of them seemed to be willing to offer him any kind of answer wasn't sitting too well with him. Considering they were more than open and vocal to tell him off whenever he had gone a little too wild, this was not going according to plan.

Killian's insides froze. Reluctantly, he rose from his chair and turned to face the four of them. They shuffled on their feet, picked at the edge of their sleeves and overall were clearly avoiding to acknowledge him. "What happened? What did I do?," he repeated, panic lacing his tone now and the shaking of his limbs reaching higher levels in seconds.

It was Victor who finally got up from his bedside and, fishing a cigarette and a lighter from his pocket, lit it while fixing him with a piercing look. "What's the last thing you remember?"

That would be a nice place to start, now that he thought of it.

He bit his lip, hanging his head and willing himself to focus. The after party. The bar. Asking for rum with all the intention of getting incredibly pissed in order to try to forget about Emma and Graham kissing up there. Or her expression when they sang their new song.

"I talked to Graham in the after party. Saw Swan with Red Lips. A girl tried to talk me up," he recalled the girl, amusement clear in her eyes as she smiled wickedly at his his not-so-inviting attitude. He frowned, his headache choosing to come back full force at that very moment, and he pressed his hands against his temples warily. "...everything's hazy or gone after that. Just flashes... Jeff yelling... a... girl undoing my shirt?" he paused, the memory somehow flashing in his mind but not willing to give him anything more, no clue of what had followed, not even the features of the girl clear in his mind. Which wasn't good news at all. He let his head fall over his knees, completely helpless. "Oh, God, I screwed up, didn't I?"

He heard a sigh, and he didn't even try to guess who it had been from - for all he knew, they all wanted to strangle him. "You did screw up, but for once, it wasn't your fault."

He looked at them in surprise. That, he hadn't expected. "What?"

Victor stared at him dubiously for several seconds before responding. "Here's the thing, Jones. We're going to make a nice deal. We'll tell you what happened last night if you tell us what the hell is going on, because God this is getting out of hand."

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?" He felt his heart stop for several moments as he waited for his answer, not sure if he was really ready to hear it.

Even if another part of him wanted nothing more than to find out what he meant, the need to know if he was somehow not guilty this time of messing everything up once more and ease his troubled mind almost killing him.

"You promise to tell or not?", August pressed him.

"I..."

"Sharesies, Jones!"

Something inside of him seemed to snap, his fist banging against the surface of the bedside table and knocking over the lamp that had been precariously hanging over the edge. He didn't mind at all, ignoring the pieces now cluttering the floor and staring daggers at his bandmates. "Look, I can't! okay? I really can't!"

No one talked for a while. The tension filling the air could have been perfectly cut with a knife. Killian was too upset, too mad at himself, at the world, at everything to try to explain himself or even come up with some lame excuse for his behavior.

He hated lying to his friends.

As if on cue, August sighed, and Killian braced himself. It was always him doing these inspiring speeches whenever they had 'talks' - maybe because he had this way with words. Who knew, really.

The fact that he usually managed to soothe him didn't have anything to do with him being the one conducting these 'interventions' of theirs. Not at all.

"Killian, we have let you do your thing for far too long. When Emma came along... we stopped worrying. You had changed, and everything was different. You were like when we first started." He flinched at this. God, this was a fucking nightmare. It felt like a neverending cycle: first, he broke down after being blissfully happy with Milah. Then he was even higher, in cloud nine when he met Emma, and now he had fallen, down, down, down. He had touched the sun, fingers already grasping it, but of course it had been too bright for him.

He had never felt more for Icarus than he did then.

"We know you didn't break up with her willingly. There must have been something there you were not telling us - if by how miserable you two were was any indication. But we didn't pry, knowing that there must have been a reason behind all of it. But this? This is spinning out of control." August bumped his shoulder with his twice, until Killian met his eyes and stared back at him. "We are your brothers. You can tell us anything. We want to help you."

Killian took in the hard set of his friend's jaw along with his blazing blue eyes and thought, not for the first time, that August Booth, for all that he looked like the good kid of the group, was a force to be reckoned with. He stared hard at him for a minute, and then set his gaze over Philip, Jefferson and Victor, their expressions identical as the keyboardist.

Worried.

He let out a shuddering breath, fingers tugging at his disheveled hair - not helping to its current state but oh hell, who cared. It wasn't like he was being photographed right then. "I couldn't even tell Emma, and she probably hates me for it; not can I tell you guys either. Those were the terms. I'm doing this to protect us all." His voice dropped then, recalling the past few weeks, how he had spent night after night by himself researching, reading, looking for anything and everything he could find about Milah and his husband, the least bit of information that could give him some leverage over her to help him get some level ground. A futile attempt as for now. "I can't fight back until I have something to bargain with. Then, I'd go to you. And not until I was 100% sure she'd be safe of all this mess, I'd go to her."

His friends appeared to be at a loss of words, but to his surprise, they didn't question his cryptic words. Instead, they shared a look and, by some silent accord, Jefferson took something from behind his place on the seat he was occupying and offered it to him, a sarcastic smile sent his way as he looked at him take the magazine, inspecting the pictures with hooded eyes. "Well, considering someone went to the lengths of drugging you - probably so there'd be pictures like these and to drive Emma to do this and this - I bet we have something to bargain with?"

His heart was beating so fast that he thought it would soon explode out of his chest. Apparently there was a whole fucking special about the after party of the awards, or so it claimed the cover of the paper. There were two small pictures that stood out from the rest, and he didn't have to read the tiny letters in vibrant white to know who it was, the blond tresses giving her away. In one of them, she appeared to have an empty glass in her hand, in all her flushed glory, as if she had been yelling at the woman who stood in front of her. The second one made him him sick to his stomach: there she was, in a corner of the club, standing inches away from Graham's face, for all purposes looking like they were about to kiss - or already had.

Before he could start formulating possible scenarios as to how to beg for Emma's forgiveness, or find out plausible excuses for the situations in the pictures, he recalled his friend's words. Drugged?

He had been _drugged_?

"What the fuck happened while I was out?," he managed in an strangled voice, his hand gripping the magazine mightily, wrinkling the paper in the process, photographs morphing to a parody of their true selves.

His mates shared a silent conversation as they stared at each other for several seconds. Killian had always wondered how some friends managed to get to that point where they could probably have mental exchanges between them. _They_ could, at least for the important stuff. Finally, Philip shook his head and addressed the rest, as if ignoring Killian's presence. "Let's hope he'll spill after we tell him."

Jefferson got up and snatched the magazine from his hand, a rustling sound startling him and making him fear he had teared the pages. The drummer ignored it, though, passing them with ease with his fingers until he got to the one he appeared to be looking for. He shoved it at his face, and Killian had to pull back to focus on the photograph displayed on it. "Do you remember this chick?"

His mouth dropped open. What...? When...? There he was, sitting on a booth - well, more like slouching on it, his head propped against the leather and his arms sprawled over the seat's edges, eyes nearly closed and a hazy expression on his face, looking for all that was worth like he was about to go to sleep.

Or have a fucking orgasm too.

And the fact that there was a girl sitting all over him nuzzling his neck may have helped to choose the second option instead of the more innocent one, of course. He pressed the heel of his hands over his eyes, despair slowly creeping up on him at the implications of this new course of the developments. "Wait - I just talked to her! When did this even happen?"

Jefferson studied him carefully and nodded before answering him. "I was keeping an eye on you and noticed her being too interested in what you were doing. It looked like she was monitoring your every move. I believe she slipped something in your drink, but I couldn't be sure. It wasn't until later when I saw her practically sitting on your lap that I guessed that had been the case." He paused, and Killian by this point was sure all blood has left his face. Something in his drink? What the bloody fuck?

"Do you remember anything weird?" August insisted, eagerly sitting on the edge of his chair, and he noticed how all of them were holding their breath for him to explain.

God.

He raked his brain, trying hard to recall that moment he had spent with the dark skinned girl in the bar. He remembered her jesting about his name and his band, and trying a little bit too hard to get his attention, promising him that she'd look for him later when she gave him back his glass...

His glass...

He gasped, shaking his head, astonished. "Wait - she _did_ take my drink and held it for a while."

Sneaky bitch.

"Do you have any idea why she'd want to mess with you?"

Suddenly his eyes caught the other photographs that his mates had shown him earlier, and he picked the other magazine up, staring carefully at that picture of Emma and the drenched woman she had spilled her drink on. He had a suspicion of who that brunette might be.

And of course, one more precise and close look, and it was all he needed to know.

He should have seen it coming.

Recalling his friends were still waiting for an answer, he exhaled loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose before answering. "I had never seen her before... but I think I know who she works for." There was another long pause as he seemed to process this. Silence enveloped the five of them for a while, and he belatedly realized how his finger had been tracing Emma's outline in the photograph, softly, delicately, almost like a ghost caress over her skin. A tremor ran down his spine at the thought. "What happened to her?"

He was terrified to ask, but he needed to know. He didn't lift his gaze, choosing to ignore another silent conversation between them, and kept outlining her picture, the golden tresses, the flowing lines of her dress. It was Victor who spoke up next. "...she saw you. I'm not sure what went down there - not even Ruby would tell me, - but we guess she-brunette baited her or something. And we all know Emma's finest move is throwing drinks at people's faces."

His mouth twitched for a second, memories of that first Gala and his first exchange with her replaying in his mind. Her wet dress, the fire in her eyes when she lashed back at him. Those first paparazzi pictures surprising them while they argued.

His eyes went to the other set of photographs, and he couldn't help his stomach from lurching at the sight. He hadn't been ready for that. Seeing her with someone else - it had been hard enough with that kiss in the Awards, even if he knew it had been all an act and that most winners always shared a kiss when they went up to pick it up, but this was another story altogether.

Yet knowing that she had seen him with that girl, it was no surprise she had chosen to go to anybody to forget.

Forget about him.

"And... with Graham?," he asked tentatively, not really sure he was ready to find out.

Another pause. He should keep count on all of the telepathic exchanges there had been since he had woken up. "We really don't know buddy. No one has gotten a hold of either of them. Sorry," August said feebly, pity clear in his voice.

He tried to appear collected, a stoic mask taking place over his face even if he could feel his hands shaking, his pulse racing at the thought of Emma never forgiving him after this.

His heart breaking.

He squared his shoulders and raised bleary eyes towards his mate. "It's okay. She doesn't owe me anything, she can do whatever she wants."

There was a loud groan and he lifted his head in time to see Victor huffing and pointing at him with his thumb while he spat at the rest of the band, "If he starts with the drama queen martyr act, I'm killing him."

He shook his head adamantly. Suddenly, his eyes widened as a new idea struck him. He turned to address Jefferson. "Not at all. I know now who is behind all of this. But either way, have we got any proof about me being drugged at all?"

He found his emotions in turmoil. The idea of having something to hold over Milah's head, to counteract her threat made his head spin and nearly dizzy with relief.

Jefferson tilted his head to the side and nodded, a curious expression stealing his features. "Lucky for you we were there. Even if we suspected what had happened - you couldn't even move or talk, it was quite ugly, - we didn't want to take you to the hospital. Everybody would find out about it in no time. Your glass had mysteriously disappeared so I could not take it to use it as proof. So we called Blue - you remember her?"

Blue...? That was a _name_?

Oh wait - he thought he remembered a petite woman, with soft features, almond-shaped eyes and thick, dark lashes whom they had teased mercilessly when the band all came to the hospital to visit him after he had broken his ribs.

"The nurse?," he asked, a disbelieving frown marring his forehead at the thought.

They all nodded. "Yeah, her. We asked her to please come to check up on you, and she did. She took some samples - that was the girl taking off your shirt by the way - and ran some tests on them, and - voilà. There was something in there to render you practically numb for a couple of hours. A tiny dose really, that wouldn't have shown in any kind of test in maybe 8 hours from what she told us when we got the results, but it was enough for you to doze off in that way."

Victor agreed, letting out a puff of smoke. "You were a muppet for all purposes, dude."

He bet he had been. Whenever he had been drunk, he at least had some idea of what had happened; but from the previous night there was absolutely nothing. Not leaving the club, not the pictures, not the girl. Nothing. Nada.

He had been just a fucking puppet. Something to play with.

God.

"She drugged me." He said to no one in particular.

"That, she did, buddy."

"She fucking _drugged_ me. Just to make sure Emma and I stayed apart, in case I had told her and she'd have no way but to dump me." His fingers itched to smack someone, break something, and he could feel a scream perched under his chin waiting to be let out. "That fucking bitch. I can't believe this."

Philip got up from his ottoman and walked over to him, sitting by his side on the bed. The rest of them mimicked him and huddled closer to him, sitting either on the edges of his bed or on the floor in front of him. "...okay. Now we need to know." He paused, and Killian could make out the worry lacing each of his words, the need for him - for all of them - to share what was plaguing him. "Please, Killian. We want to help."

Killian glanced around the room, taking in the sight of his exhausted and disheartened friends, and there must have been something in his eyes, that very fear he had been shoving down inside him for all of their sakes after his encounter with Milah that made August, still on his other side, put an arm over his shoulder, patting him warmly.

"You don't have to do it all alone," he said, voice barely a whisper.

Killian looked him directly in the eyes, and a rare moment of understanding passed between them. He then cracked his neck to stare at Jefferson, Philip and Victor, who gave him encouraging nods, and the sudden threat of tears crept up on him.

That stupid whatever it was Milah's sidekick had slipped him must have this idiotic secondary effect, because Killian Jones didn't cry.

He caved, finally, and with a final nod, he muttered, "Okay."

* * *

He didn't know how long they stayed discussing and explaining what have happened, but all he knew was that the deafening silence that washed over them was positively driving him nuts.

But it was his mates' reaction what really took him by surprise.

"We're taking that bitch down," Victor had growled under his breath, and they had all agreed, all mutters and knuckles cracking, unbelieving glances exchanged and comforting pats to his back. He couldn't believe the anger etched to their faces, teeth gritting and clenching uncomfortably and burning glares whenever he had mentioned Milah during his retelling of the story.

But now, after they had all calmed down to an extent, they were actually _chipper_.

How, he'd never know.

Maybe they were all bipolar. Who fucking knew at this point.

"That'd make one hell of a bonus track for the album," Jefferson pointed out, and they all managed a chuckle, eyes glinting.

Philip snorted. "She could be the Wicked Witch of the West."

And, like they had somehow orchestrated it, rehearsed it and memorized it, they did it.

_"Ding! Dong! The witch is dead_!"

As always.

Philip turned to look at him, and with a reassuring grin, he told him, "Everything will be fine. You'll see."

And at that, the grin that pulled at Killian's lips didn't feel so forced anymore.

* * *

"Mr Jones! What are you doing here? We weren't expecting you..."

Killian didn't even bother to stop, his feet carrying him along the extremely posh-looking halls in the building he had first met Milah all those weeks ago, his brain managing to obscurely remember the way to the bureau she had met him in. "Get the hell away from me. You won't like me if you come any closer, Mendel," he all but growled at the guy that, now that he knew, had been the one responsible of recording his conversation with Gold and bringing it back like a dutiful dog to his mistress, giving her the means to fuck his life royally.

Yeah, he was not happy at all to see the bloody pounce.

"But..."

Ignoring him once more and not caring to even knock, he opened the door and made his presence known to the woman sitting behind the mahogany desk with a mock bow and a wave of both of his hands, like a magician that had just showed up on stage.

Show was about to start indeed.

"Why, hello there, lass. Missed me?"

Milah blinked at him in confusion. "Killian? What the hell?"

"Oh, don't act so surprised. After all, we _do_ have mutual friends as of late, huh?" Killian acknowledged, as his smirk widened. He had caught her by surprise, and it pleased him to no end.

She tensed on her seat, palms gripping the edge of the desk in a tight grasp. "I have no clue what you're talking about," she said, but Killian merely shrugged, unfazed by her challenge.

He sat on the chair sitting opposite to hers just like he had done the las time he had been in there. With a sigh, he took the folder he had brought and dropped it carelessly in front of him, papers peeking from the corner. He spied Milah furrowing her brows as she stared down at them, and he had to fight the urge to cackle. "Really? 'Cause apparently, this lovely Tamara, even if her record says she's a genetic engineer and researcher, actually works for your company. For _you_." He tilted his head, his lips curling in a smirk as he delivered his next piece of information. He _had_ done his homework alright. "Oh, and she is romantically involved with your guy out there. Greg Mendel, was it? If you didn't nickname him Beanie you're losing your touch, I'm afraid."

Seriously. The guy was called Greg freaking Mendel.

_Seriously_.

"You're delusional," said Milah with a dismissive wave.

"Am I?" Killian asked, arching an eyebrow challengingly. Oh, how the tables had turned. The last time he had seen her, he had been absolutely desperate, cornered, wishing for the ground to swallow him or someone to wake him up from that nightmare he seemed to be drowning in. Now, here he was.

Holding the power had never felt so sweet. He nodded his head grimly towards the stack of papers he had brought under his arm and propped them towards her with his hand, invitingly, mockingly. "You're not the only one with friends who can hack computers and make little creepy investigations, my dear."

He could see the blazing in her eyes, the sudden rage simmering inside of them as she stared him down, a sneer sent his way as she growled, "Do you think this changes anything? What will you do? Tell everybody someone sent a girl to hit on you?"

Killian's jaw muscles twitched with suppressed anger, but he managed to keep his temper in check. "Not just someone. _You_."

He felt the need to point at her as he said that, too. He was _all_ for dramatics that day.

Milah let out a cold laugh, shaking her head at him, fixing him with an almost patronizing smile that did nothing but piss him off even more. She _was_ looking for it, alright. "If you haven't told about us yet, you never will."

He picked at his nails, appearing for all that was worth the picture of ease. "In fact, I wouldn't mind at this point. There has been so much crap written about me already, this would only be the cherry on top." He stared at her, hard. "But actually, that wasn't my plan. See, I have a deal to make."

She glared right back at him, a clear incredulous and, dare he say it, insulted expression stealing her features. "What makes you think I'd agree to anything you tell me?"

He bared his upper teeth at her in a feral manner, leaning forward in his seat. "It sucks, huh? Been there, done that. Not so fun being controlled and manipulated now, is it?"

"You haven't even explained yourself."

"Oh, that," he began, and he let himself slump against his seat, tilting his head against the leather covering the chair and staring at her with hooded eyes. Bring on the big guns. "Have you ever heard of GHB?" he said maliciously.

If he hadn't been inspecting her as closely as he had been when he said that, he may had missed the barely visible flinch of her shoulders or the pinching of her brows, and the slight intake of breath that resonated in the silence after his statement. _Gotcha_. "Lovely experience. You should try it someday, or ask someone to slip it in your drink and leave you completely powerless, numb and with no way to fight someone's advances, or make sure no one sees you or takes pictures of you in such a state." His stomach gave a familiar lurch when he recalled the events from the few weeks before. He had stood by and done nothing while Emma had been mocked and taunted by the woman sitting in front of him, then gone to Graham to surely seek comfort after seeing him completely out of it with a girl who all but dry humped him while he was passed out over a dark corner of the club. He couldn't help the bite in his voice as he taunted her. "It's loads of fun, sweetheart."

He wanted to give himself a fucking golden star for that performance. Hell, if Victor had been there, he surely would have hooted and slapped his thigh in admiration, it had been _that_ good, if he said so himself.

"You're out of your mind." Milah was on the edge of her seat, her fists clenched in self-righteous fury.

Killian was enjoying too much seeing her squirm, one of his usual smirks gracing his lips, and he just knew that her hand was positively twitching with the urge to smack it right off of his face, the thought making him nearly giggle right there.

Alas, it was not the moment.

He opened the folder, fishing one of the sheets and in an almost bored manner letting it fall right before her so she could read its contents. "That's not what my medical record from last week says," he tsked. At the grimace that adorned her face he couldn't suppress a dark chuckle at last. "The look on your face. See, you said I had nothing on you, but now? Now you're going _down_."

There was a pause in which she tapped her finger against the desk, her wedding ring clinking against the polished wood the only sound interrupting the silence that surrounded them, covering them like a warm blanket. "What do you want?"

"I should really be thanking you for this fucked up, crazy stunt of yours - it gave me something to fight you with." He shook his finger at her, as if she were a wayward child, even if he could feel his temper rising. His hand moved on its own accord, creeping along the surface of the desk until it stood right before her own, and he curled it into a fist, banging it soundly once before stating his conditions. The sudden sound made her jump once, startled, and he took a sick pleasure of her sudden fear. "I want you to stay the hell away from my life, my band, my family, _Emma_. Everybody I care about. And I want you to sign on it and to swear never to try to harm them or me again. Not so difficult, on my opinion. Most people can accomplish it."

He had to give it to her, she had carefully cleared her face of all expression or feeling, a mask of indifference and control in place. "Do I have to do it now?"

He shrugged. "You can take a week if you want. Leave your affairs in order. I don't think you'll have much trouble with it - not after going to the lengths you did to make sure I was miserable," he snapped, scowling at her. Immediately she bristled, her eyes flashing at him.

"I had to! How could I trust you hadn't told her about it otherwise?"

He got up from his seat in a heartbeat, face heating and temper raising, completely unrestrained. The nerve of this woman - how the hell had she become such a psycho? How could it be that this was the same woman he had once fallen for, being so devoted to that he had almost let it all go to hell for her? How could she even begin to excuse herself? And how did she think that he would ever put Emma at any risk at all? "Because I love her! I'm in love with her! I would never jeopardize her well being in any way!"

His breath was leaving him in rapid gasps, and he could see his hands trembling yet again. He willed himself to calm down, and all energy seeped out of him, like it had been drained from his body all at once, sucked right in one go. His shoulders dropped and he pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand, the other making a motion to the papers sitting between them. "Just sign the fucking thing and disappear from my life already."

She pulled back like she had been smacked in the face. She appeared completely horrified, and then just bloody _furious_.

"She won't go back to you, you know. Not after all of this. She told me you left her and you chose the consequences of that decision," she claimed with a defiant jut of her chin.

Killian could find nothing to say in response to this. He knew, grudgingly, that everything she had said was true. By leaving Emma without talking to her about his decision, he had demeaned her intelligence, and her ability to think for herself. The only thing he didn't know was where to go from there.

It was surprising, and almost frightening, how their relationship had evolved from passionate and loving, to broken and silent. Memories and emotions kept plaguing his every waking moment - and his dreams. Some of them pleasant, good times shared during their time together. But of course not all of them were touchy, happy nor pleasant ones.

He recalled with a wince the morning after he left, when he had lain in his own bed after returning home and refused to get out of it, because then it would make it real. The pain crushing him as he imagined her, alone, surely hiding in her place after he was gone. The worried glances exchanged between his friends when they questioned him what had happened and he could only come up with noncommittal answers and excuses.

Unconsciously, his hand had gone to rub the tattoo on his forearm.

The last one he had gotten.

He let out a loud sigh before addressing her accusation, a wary hand mussing his hair tiredly. "If that's what she wants, then I'll stick to it. Because if you do love someone, that's what you do. You respect their wishes. You want them to be happy." He paused, and the accusing, painful tone of his voice was difficult to mask as he added, "Exactly the opposite of what you did, even after you claimed you still loved me." With a final sigh, he signaled over the stack of papers lying between them. "You can keep those, I have loads of copies just in case."

He let the threat hang between them. No funny business - he was definitely in no mood for any more games. He was done. So very done with this. Leaving the seat in a graceful move, he reached the door leading to the hallway and out of that damn bureau in a couple of strides, Milah's perfume overwhelming the space and fogging his brain. Before he left, though, he stopped, a hand gripping the handle and looking over his shoulder, meeting her conflicted gaze for a couple of seconds before leaving for good. "A week."

How was that for theatrics, anyway.

* * *

He didn't even wait for Ruby to greet him before he was asking, his eagerness to know how _she_ was getting the best of him. His hold on the phone was so tight while he waited he was faintly afraid of crushing it with his bare hands, Hulk-style. "How is she?"

Ruby's sigh carried over the line. "You know. Not really well. Bitchy. Short-tempered. Sad. Angry. Like she were on a constant period." She paused, and he could picture her biting her lip. Probably staining her teeth with that damn red lipstick she couldn't live without. "She's worried though, and that's what has me on edge."

He internally flinched, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edge of the counter he was leaning against, trying not to picture how Emma would be feeling right now.

He had been fixing himself some breakfast in the kitchen, foregoing the need to go out to Granny's and choosing to do something himself for once - a faraway corner of his mind chastising him in a very Swanish manner about how he should learn how to look out for himself or he'd probably starve if the diner decided one day to close its doors. Thoughts of the new album, his run in with Milah, the ache to see Emma and Henry again had been keeping him way too distracted, for he nearly missed the words coming from the TV he had left on in the other room, where some lame celebrities and gossip special show had started right after the news he had been absent-mindedly checking out earlier. It was the name Cassidy that made him drop the spoon he had been using and run to stand in front of the TV, pictures of Emma and Henry - hell, even those of the three of them walking down Nana were being shown again, - in the background while the presenter prattled on and on about how Neal Cassidy, Emma's past lover, was fighting the actress for the custody of their child, Henry Swan.

That fucking wanker.

Killian knew manipulation when he saw it: of course Cassidy, seeing his case against Emma was poor as it could be, would sell his story to some lame paper to try to get the attention needed for him to gain something from the situation - if not the profits he'd enjoy from the childcare he'd get if he indeed ended up achieving some kind of custody over Henry, then showing up in whatever sensationalist show or magazine to earn whatever he could from trashing Emma.

He could only hope karma would bite him in the ass soon enough.

Murdering scenarios still burning behind his eyelids, he gritted his teeth in an attempt to focus back towards the conversation he was trying to maintain. "She shouldn't be. Remind her of what Archie said: no matter what Cassidy tells some shitty magazine, she will win this thing."

Ruby huffed in response. "I know that. We all do. But too many things can go wrong, and we can't deny it..."

Yeah, he definitely knew that. Especially for the last few months - life hadn't been too kind to Killian Jones, why lie about it.

He fiddled with the spoon he had previously let go of, nervously tickling the linoleum in an uncoordinated rhythm. "Where is she now?"

"At Regina's. She needed fresh air and Daniel offered to let her unwind riding his horses. She and Graham used to ride during the shooting of their movie, so she accepted."

The mental picture of Emma riding a horse momentarily brought a smile to his lips. That'd be one sight to behold, for sure. If they were still on speaking terms, he would tease her about her more that probable approaching funeral, maybe suggesting for her to order some plaque including 'cause of death - trampled by a horse' due to her clumsiness. Though at the same time he couldn't help but believe she would be amazing with the animals. Surely Daniel had trained her well enough for her to do her stunts in the movie, and from what he had seen, she had been magnificent in those.

The sudden thought that they could have gone horse riding at least once saddened him. For all that was worth, they could have done way more many things together, enjoyed each moment they had spent together, making plans, creating new memories - and they had. But of course, it never felt like it was enough. He craved more, everything from her, and it wasn't being easy at all figuring his life out without her.

Who would have thought, that he'd admit he needed her - a woman he had barely known, that he had spent just months with, not much more - and here he was, pinning for her like a schoolboy with a crush.

Oh, how the mighty had fallen.

He really didn't want to ask, he knew he had no right, and wasn't even sure he wanted to know the answer, but he heard himself asking anyway. "Did Graham go with her?"

And of course he should have expected the brunette's reaction.

"I'm _not_ telling you about Emma and Graham." She had sounded a little outraged even, like the possibility of her sharing whatever was going on between those two was completely appalling - girl code, they never spilled the beans to boys, or some crap like that, he guessed, - but as she continued, her tone softened considerably. "You'll have to wait and see. You hurt her, so bad I thought she wouldn't snap out of it. Graham is helping her, but that's all I'm telling you about it." There was a pause in which neither of them seemed to know what to say, until she spoke again, uncertainly, curiously. "Are you ever going to try to go back to her?"

That was the question, right?

He debated momentarily if he should feel offended by the doubt she was clearly displaying. Had he not shown how much he cared for Emma?

Though he knew he was being unfair, after all that had happened between them in the last weeks.

"I intend to, but not until everything is 100% clear."

She appeared to be measuring what he had told her, and after releasing a big sigh, she addressed him once more. "I have no idea what the hell happened, but Victor told me you had a good reason for what you did and that you were trying to fix it, so I'll give you a chance. Can't speak for Emma, though."

The fact that Victor hadn't even shared all that had gone down the past week nearly did him right there. God, he was going soft - he kept fighting the urge to break down, to pray and thank whatever deity, whatever angel sent to loom over him for giving him such people to look out for him.

Knowing that he would have to fight tooth and nail for Emma to hear him out, though, only made him gulp loudly and bite his lip in anxiety, even if he had known it would come down to this in the end.

"Thank you, Ruby," he finally exhaled, and tried to muster all his gratitude and respect into his words. As vivacious, spontaneous and fun as she could be, it was at times like these when she was not crazy-as-hell Ruby that he considered how she indeed was someone worth having your back.

He heard her stifling a laugh. "You didn't call me Red Lips."

Huh. He guessed he hadn't. "I know." He cocked his head to the side, grinning wickedly even if she couldn't see him at the moment. "Are we acting... adult?"

When had _that_ happened?

"Yuck."

They both laughed, and Killian let himself relax for a moment, embracing the small moment of peace, the light banter that always came when dealing with Emma's best friend. No wonder they were inseparable. He was fiercely glad of the fact that Emma had her, keeping her in track whenever she needed along with the rest of her family.

Before he could spout some more randomness as was their routine, the doorbell rang, and he frowned, disconcerted. He wasn't expecting anybody.

That he remembered of, of course. He couldn't be sure now - his mind had been wandering too much lately, and dates, appointments and what not slipped from his thoughts too often.

"Hey, Ruby, someone's at the door. I'll talk to you soon, okay?"

"Fine. Be a good boy," she taunted, amusement clear in her voice. He didn't disappoint in keeping the laughter out of his own tone.

"Always am."

"Uh-huh."

He hung up, throwing the phone over to the cushions and trudging up to the door, where the bell had kept ringing insistently after he had not answered the first time. God, who _was_ it? If it were the guys who had come to pay him another visit he'd have to kick their asses - they had been showing up at his place at the most random moments to keep him company, six packs under their arms and guitars slung over shoulders with the seemingly innocent purpose of 'hanging out'.

Yeah, right. Biggest euphemism ever to _'we're just making sure you're alright and trying to keep your mind off things'._

But he appreciated it nevertheless.

And the free beer, of course.

He shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips and a witty greeting ready when he opened the door, all previous good spirits sniffing out in a moment. "What are you doing here?"

Milah rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest indignantly. "Oh, sure, I would love to come in, thank you."

He wished he could slap the sarcasm out of her voice. After all that she had put him through, her acting like a condescending bitch was the last thing he was willing to put up with at the moment. But as he studied her closely, he noticed the way she was carrying herself: shuffling on her feet, eyes wandering from him to her sides or the ground, lips thinned out.

She looked completely shaken.

Which could mean only one thing: she was caving in.

He opened the door wider and invited her in with a wave of his hand. Even if she had been indeed the wicked witch of the west for all purposes, he was not about to let his gentleman manners fly out of the window - not even dealing with women like her. She followed him to the kitchen where he had been talking on the phone earlier before she interrupted him, and he settled on one side of it, her staying on the other. Not one to wait around, she brought her purse in front of her and fished out a folder. He immediately recognized it as the one he had left for her to read and agree to the last time they had seen each other.

"Here."

"I hope you don't mind if I read it thoroughly." He smiled at her, and by the way she looked at him he knew it was probably downright scary.

Good.

She flinched slightly, but shook her head at him. "You don't have to worry about it, there's no trap."

_Ha_. "Says the woman who drugged me. Right." Killian snapped, running a hand through his hair.

"I wasn't thinking straight."

No shit, Sherlock. "That's an understatement," he growled, glaring at her, ignoring the embarrassed flush that had crept over her cheeks.

"I didn't mean for you to get hurt." She sucked in a long breath, and looking absolutely resigned, admitted under her breath, "I'm sorry Killian."

He shook his head, giving her that look he had so often given her throughout the time they had spent together - that _'I can't believe you're telling me this now_' look. "It's a little too late, Milah."

"I know, and I cannot apologize enough. I just... I was so furious. That you had moved on from me. That you didn't need me anymore." She actually sounded wistful, which was also not something one witnessed very regularly. Killian knew her well enough to know that the words she had said for once were true. He pinched his brow, feeling like going to bed and ignore everything going on around him. He was so bloody tired of everything, God.

"I was willing to do everything for you. I _loved_ you. But you weren't about to go the same lengths I would have for us. We both know it'd have been a mistake one way or another in the end."

It had been maybe a year, a year and a half since their breakup. That deep void he had felt after he had realized they were done, their relationship merely whispers, secrets that no one would ever found out and he would mourn by himself was now merely a hazy memory, long forgotten.

How everything had changed in the course of one year. Especially in the last months.

She nodded solemnly. "I do. Now." She reached up with one of her small, delicate hands to tuck a stray curl out of his eyes, gazing up affectionately at him, and he had to fight the urge to jerk away from her - though he knew she had noticed how still he had gone at the motion of her even daring to touch him. "You were - still are - very special to me, you know. And at least I see you will be with someone who deserves you."

When she pulled back her hand from him, he studied her carefully with hooded eyes. Something didn't click. "Why this sudden change of heart? It doesn't make sense," Killian said, adding a measure of steel back into the velvet voice. Even if she looked like she was being sincere and she had indeed signed the papers, agreeing to leaving them - him, Emma, - in peace, he was not so easily convinced of her innocent charade. He had been burned too many times already. He was not about to fall for another play of hers again.

Milah chewed at her lower lip for a few seconds. Then she stared up at him, a look in her face he had trouble identifying. "To be completely honest, it wasn't until I read that that I signed those."

He followed her line of sight to one of the papers that littered his kitchen counter. On top of them sat the article that they had been discussing on that show - after he had heard about it, he had run to the store to see if there had actually been crap written about it already. Indeed, Cassidy had spewed his lame story to one of those shitty magazines that no one usually gave the time of the day, but alas, his plan seemed to be working for now.

He furrowed his brow. What did anything of that have to do with Milah...?

He hesitated and sat down on the edge of the counter. "I'm not following."

There was no hesitation or artifice in her response, which was almost as unsettling to him as the reply itself. "I'm a mother too. I knew she had a son - I saw those pictures of you with them, perfect little family poster card material. That was another thing that made me see red, to be honest: realizing that, if I had wanted, you could have had that with me. But you found it with her." With a sigh, she turned her attention back to the colorful pictures displayed on the magazine, Emma and Henry's smiling faces almost taunting the conversation. "I cannot imagine how afraid and impotent she must feel right now. I didn't know she was coping with her ex trying to take her son from her. If I had..." She stopped herself, chewing her bottom lip in distress. Long ago, a lifetime earlier, he would have slapped her hand away, maybe kissed her knuckles and tried to joke about him being the only one allowed to bite it.

Now, he just waited for her to keep going.

"You knew about it, right?," she finally asked, her tone conflicted, eyes haunted as they searched for his. He didn't know what he looked like right then, but he would bet that his expression was pained, recalling the moment Emma found out about Neal, her breakdown, their first meeting with the father of her child, her tears after they were back home.

"I was with her for the whole thing until you made me stay away from her," he answered testily at last, gaze lost, mind far away from there. Closer to her.

Milah, however, didn't look intent on letting his mind wander towards Emma, though. She looked pained, hands wringing together over the counter as she stood in the other side of it, eyes pleading at him. "I am so sorry. I truly am." She turned and he frowned when he saw her examining intently an object sitting on the corner. He followed her gaze until he realized what it was: a crinkled photograph of him and Emma. In the picture, chocolate stains covered her face, her hands and even her chest, and she had him in a headlock while she laughingly tried to feed him a spoon full of ice cream. Killian grinned at the memory. Emma and he had had several photographs taken since the very first day they had met, either from the premieres or those fake dates - both from paparazzis and journalists in arranged events, with the two of them standing in elegant poses in scenic locations or caught wherever they had been spending time together around the city. But he had always thought that those other photos weren't an accurate portrayal of their relationship. The way they were portrayed in the one he was staring at - this was them as they had truly been, bickering and teasing each other relentlessly, but caring for each other the entire time.

Milah seemed to agree with him. "Now I see I have to let you go."

Killian abruptly shook himself out of his reverie, only to find that he had ground the spoon he had failed to let go of since he had been talking to Ruby into the surface of the counter, scraping it and bending the metal in the process. "Thank you," he acknowledged in the end with a curt nod.

He expected their brief tête-à-tête to come to an end, and he waited for Milah's inevitable cue to leave but, to his surprise, it never came. In fact, she appeared to be focused on his forearm, which was bare for her to inspect as she pleased.

The tattoo.

Her head had risen slightly, and she seemed to struggle with whatever it was she was about to say next. Killian was immediately intrigued. She was rarely unsure, even when she knew she had been obviously wrong. It was part of what made her such a potent personality. Her hand moved towards him and before it made contact with his skin, she had the good measure of asking first. "Can I?"

Well, he guessed there was no danger in that. At his tiny nod, she took his wrist, bringing the design closer to her eyes, studying the added bird now adorning his skin carefully. "Pretty."

The corner of his mouth rose slightly. "Thank you. It was a gift."

Milah stared at his arm with an odd expression on her face – he thought it was a mixture of annoyance, amusement, and perhaps a small measure of respect.

"She's something else, isn't she?," she added, cocking her head to the side as she studied him under her lashes.

Oh, she had no idea.

"Aye, that she is."

And the memories of a smaller, softer and paler hand holding his in a tight grasp as he got done the second tattoo swam through his head, bringing a sad smile to his lips.

* * *

He was in front of her door. He was there. He was doing it. And boy, was he terrified, his heart fluttering so fast, too fast, fast like a bird's inside his chest. He even was afraid he'd suffer from cardiac arrest right there, at her fucking doorstep.

He willed himself to stop being a drama queen - or at least wait to die after he finally saw her. It would be utterly embarrassing if he made all the way down there to kick it right before he could stare at her one last time, now, wouldn't it?

_Well_, he thought, _as far as last sights go, I could probably do worse_.

He heard her footsteps, and not long enough for him to prepare himself - hell, would he _ever_ be ready, for all that mattered? - she was opening the door.

She was there, at arm's length. He could touch her if he wanted. And he did want. He _really_ did.

Killian waited, hands thrust in his pockets, his chin raised unflinchingly as she stood right in front of him. He had to admit he had not expected her reaction at all: he had wondered since he had come to terms with him coming here to her probably readying herself to slap him as soon as they met. Or yell at him. Or shoot him a glare and close the door in his face. He would have gladly stood there and accepted it, whatever it was she was planning to deal out to him.

Instead, she looked completely startled, a slightly panicked expression in her face as she looked over to the window seat she used to spend hours in relaxing. He wondered why she would be freaked out by him finding out she had been there. It wouldn't be anything he hadn't known before - hell, he had spent more time he'd admit on that same place with her too. He considered it something akin to _their_ place.

Maybe the fact that he had showed up when she was in 'their' place was what got her so flustered...?

"Hi" said Killian, finally breaking the silence.

The dazzled look on her eyes lifted, and she shook her head lightly. "Hey"

He shot a look towards the window seat and the direction of the living room dubiously, just in case there was someone with her and it had turned out it was not the best moment for him to show up there. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

Her eyes snapped back up to his face. "No, no, just - I was not expecting you."

"Right," he muttered, his hand curling into a fist unexpectedly. Of course she wouldn't be expecting him to turn up at her door after what he had done to her. He shuffled on his feet awkwardly, suddenly afraid to look at her in the eye. "May I come in?"

That seemed to catch her by surprise - even more, dare he say. "What for?"

"I want to talk to you." He paused, and met her eyes once again, attempting to halt his beating heart at the sight of them, so open, so vulnerable, so _afraid_. "I _need_ to talk to you."

There was a silence for a while in which they just stood there, motionless, a drawn line on the ground separating both of them, him waiting for her to speak, to move, to sigh, to do _anything_. To let him in. Not only into her home, but _in_. Again. Though he knew it wouldn't be an easy feat - not by a long chance.

The silence was broken unexpectedly, a gunshot against the quiet. "I don't think that's such a good idea," Emma said quietly, staring down at her hands.

He frowned, and raked his brain for a plausible reason for her to not let him inside. "Is Henry at home?"

"No, but..."

His hand was itching to act on its own accord and grab her wrist, touch her skin, run his knuckles over her cheek - to _touch_ her, - but he stayed put, not knowing how well she'd take him actually grabbing her. Or having any kind of skin contact, for that matter. "Please, Emma. You said you'd listen. That you'd wait. Itching to slap me as soon as I'm done but first you have to hear me out."

The way he said it - adamant, needy, desperate, - must had caught her off-guard, because she just let out a small sigh and, averting her eyes from him, stepped away and motioned silently for him to come in.

"Thank you." As soon as he entered the room and waited for her to invite him into the living room, Nana showed up, almost knocking him off his feet in her eagerness to greet him. He kneeled in from of her, and for the first time since he had left his place to get here, he laughed, pleased - a real, hearty and clear laugh. "Hey girl. I missed you. Did you miss me? Did you? Dad definitely missed you, you fluffy ball. I'm sure you behaved this whole time, or mom would not be happy with you, now, would she?"

As soon as he said it, he wished he could retract his words. He spied Emma's expression falling, her face paling almost comically as he petted awkwardly Nana's furry head, a tight-lipped grimace marring her mouth.

He was such an _idiot_. He was too used to talk to the dog as if she were their daughter and them her parents, and he hadn't even stopped to wonder how him using their former pet names would sit with her.

He really should start thinking before speaking, anyway.

_Idiot_.

Getting back to his feet and dusting his hands on his jeans, he followed her to the kitchen, and stood awkwardly by one of the stools - _his_ stool, the one he usually sat in whenever he had been at her place, - and shuffled on his feet, raking his brain for something to say. "Where's Henry?"

"At Ruby's. They're going shopping tomorrow and Nana can't go around there, so..."

"Girls night, huh?" he smiled tentatively up at her, cocking a teasing eyebrow.

She snorted at that, but he noticed that she couldn't quite bring herself to meet his eyes. "Yeah, pretty much." She turned her head towards the window so that she was facing away from him once more. "Do you want anything? Beer, wine?"

"Sure, why not."

He couldn't help but chuckling when, as she turned and opened the fridge, Emma first picked up two cans of beer and halted herself before taking out a bottle of wine as well. Apparently she needed copious amounts of alcohol to have this conversation with him. He could have sworn that the corners of her lips twitched as well: she looked slightly less pale than she had when he had first rang her door, and there was a hint of pink in her cheeks again. They sat in silence for a few minutes. Killian certainly wouldn't call it companionable silence, but it also was not as awkward as he had expected it to be - which was strange considering that she was sitting at her kitchen table, where they had spent so many meals, had bantered, had fought, hell, she even had slapped him once in there. They had kissed there, they had made love over that same table.

It should have been the very definition of awkward. But it wasn't.

His eyes swept the length of her person, from her bare feet and her painted nails to the slightly mussed look of her hair.

The things this woman could do to him without her even noticing still caught him by surprise.

"Look, Emma..." At his words, she flinched and looked away, possibly pained by the memory of their last conversation. Killian ran one hand through his hair, wondering if he could find the strength to voice the things he wanted to say.

He wanted to tell her that he had been stupid. That maybe he had gotten Milah off their backs now, but knowing that it had been by getting their hearts broken in the process was killing him. That the idea of her not taking him back kept him awake at night. That maybe it should have been better telling her first thing, but a part of him also was glad he hadn't, seen how far Milah had gone to make sure she had him under her thumb.

But somehow, he could not bring himself to say any of these things, and so, without meeting her eyes, he instead uttered the only words he could force out of his mouth: "I'm so sorry. You have no idea how. This... whole thing. I did what I thought was best - for you, for the band. But I will never forgive myself for making you hurt."

He waited on baited breath as she stared back at him, her expression unfathomable. "Why are you here exactly?"

Killian was so frustrated at that point, he had to practically sit on his hands to keep himself from grabbing her by the shoulders and ask her to see how desperate he was for her to take him back, to forgive him, to learn that it hadn't been his intention to hurt her, that he had done what he thought was best to keep them safe. "...Apart than from begging for your forgiveness and trying to explain all this mess that got in between us?"

"I know you. You'd have something up your sleeve in case I didn't want to talk to you. So what is it?" Emma folded her arms across her chest, green eyes flashing at him.

Ouch. "Smart lass, as always." Killian pointed out.

She was too observant for her own good. Or she knew him too well for her own good.

Which may have been why they clicked.

Sighing heavily, his hand snaked behind him to fish the piece of paper neatly folded inside his back pocket. Staring down at her, he extended his arm for her to take it and, slowly, she reached out to pick it up. The moment she wrapped her fingers around it, she inhaled sharply. "Oh."

"You still have a job to do, Lost Girl." There was an awkward silence as his words reminded both of them of the night, several months ago, when they had had their bet in that club. As if looking for some sort of distraction, Killian stared down at the napkin he had just given her, studying how she fiddled with it. Finally, he spoke up once more, redirecting the topic to the present. "And I'm sure you know there's no one better for the role than you."

She sent him a curious look. "The song from the awards?"

"Yeah," he paused, wondering if he'd have the courage to inquire what he had asked himself from the moment he had had the idea for the song, all that time ago. He had kept it under wraps just to surprise her. He wholeheartedly expected her to be surprised alright, getting to listen to it during the freaking MTV Movie Awards along with the rest of the planet.

"Did you - did you like it?"

His breath was let out in a loud woosh when he heard her admittance. "I loved it. But it confused me."

Killian's gaze instantly shifted from the napkin to her face, a frown marring his forehead. What did she mean? "Why? You knew it was about you. It was _your _song."

"I did. We all did. But see, two hours later, you were smooching some random girl in the after party just when I was about to talk to you."

Killian found himself sucking in a quick breath of air as that last accusation drove home, making him feel as if a punch had rammed him in the stomach.

"Emma, listen to me. Do you really think I'd go kissing someone else after singing that to you?"

With a small shake of her head, she wheeled around and began walking away from him, heading in the direction of the sink, her fingers gripping the edge so tightly, he could see her knuckles whitening from his seat. "I have no idea. I believed not long ago you'd never leave me, and here we are. I'm not sure who you are anymore."

All of the breath left his lungs in one whooshing gasp, almost as if someone had kicked him in the chest.

"It was not what it looked like. It was all part from the same plan that made me stay away from you in the first place. I..." Killian replied, and an expression of shame and guilt fell over his features.

But she didn't let him end. "Please don't."

Killian stared at her, aghast.

"...what?"

"I don't want to know." she said softly, still intent in avoiding his gaze. He got up in a beat, rounding the counter and joining her side, and, still wary of touching her in case she slapped his hand away or something equally Swanish, he inclined his head to stare intently at her.

Her eyes were so full of pain and fear that it pierced his heart. She looked so lost, and it was a look that seemed entirely out of place on the face of Emma Swan, making him feel ten times worse about the unavoidable feeling that he had been the cause behind it.

"Not now," she finally added to her previous statement. Needless to say, Killian was utterly lost at that moment.

"But I thought you said..."

She interrupted him before he could go on with his confused musings. "I know. God knows all I want is to hear what you have to say and believe you and kick your ass and go back to how we were. But you hurt me. You _left_ me. And I - I need time, Killian. I can't do this now, I'll be expecting you to run again for whatever reason and I can't cope with that anymore," Emma argued, her cheeks flushing somewhat. "I can't be with you like this. I'm a mess right now."

"I'm so sorry." He was having trouble forming the words to say, to ask, to beg. He wished just a look would share what he was feeling, and even if they both could read each other like no one else, he knew she'd appreciate him speaking them out loud, whatever it was that he wanted her to know. "Can't we just - forgive and forget?"

There was a moment of silence, during which Killian couldn't bring himself to meet her eyes. For the first time since he was a very young child, he felt himself experiencing an unpleasant emotion - _shame_. He had admitted long ago how Emma had managed to make him experience things he hadn't in years - or possibly ever. Damn her. Damn that woman. How did she do that, he would love to know.

Finally, he made himself look up at her, prepared to face the anger, the disappointment that he expected to see in her eyes. Instead, she was looking back at him with nothing but understanding, longing, _pity_. And if that surprised him, her next action was more shocking yet.

With the hesitance of one approaching a potentially dangerous animal, Emma reached out and cupped his cheek with one of her slender hands. Her touch was soft and surprisingly cool. Killian found himself instinctually leaning into it, seeking some sort of comfort from the contact, dozens of ghost touches, whispered memories seeping from her skin to his with that single touch.

"I guess you know The Corrs, right, Irishpants?" she said softly. Then she pulled her hand away, leaving him feeling bereft. "They said _'Forgiven, not forgotten'_. That's me right now. I can forgive you - and I do. But I can't just forget the fact that you chose to leave me in the dark about all of this crap that happened."

"Do you think you'll be able to trust me again one day?", he asked what felt like eons later, fearing to meet her eyes, afraid of what he'd see if he did.

_Coward. You're being a bloody coward, Jones._

He fought his own traitorous thoughts, and he finally caved in, catching her gaze at the same time that she sought his, her expression carefully guarded, insecure. "I don't know. Maybe."

His heart fell.

Though why he was so surprised and crushed, a sudden sickness wrapping around him and making him gasp quietly, he wasn't too sure. He should have expected her not giving him a chance to explain, a chance for the two of them once more to work it out.

He had screwed up, and now it was too late. Like always.

At his crestfallen face, she tugged his hand in hers, lacing their fingers together, and offered him a shaky smile. "Hey. I said maybe."

He couldn't help himself.

Never had.

_"You're gonna be the one that saves me."_

As if time had never passed between them. A song exchanged, traveling from one corner of the world to the other, making her feel less alone, making him feel closer to her. Her hand over his shooting sparks through his skin, he couldn't help his finger from moving and caress hers. At the motion, though, she let go of his hand, and he suppressed the need to slap himself. _Idiot_. "Anyway, I'll be gone for a while filming. Clearing my head. Thinking, you know."

Finally, Killian turned to face her again, and the look in her eyes made his heart throb painfully. He closed his own for a second, agreeing with her in a hushed tone. "Yeah."

"And August told me you guys would be busy recording the new album," she added, trying to muster some kind of cheer into her voice. She was really trying wasn't she?

And here he was, moping like a kicked puppy.

_Killian, put yourself together, for fuck's sake._

He gulped loudly and nodded, attempting to sober himself up and follow her example by acting something akin to normal - if that was possible at this stage of the game. Which he wasn't too certain about, but oh well. "It's almost ready. We'll be pretty much living in the studio for the next weeks."

"That's good," Emma said quietly, avoiding his gaze. "This is what we need. Time."

He chuckled, but the sound was dry and devoid of amusement. "Silly Swan. What I need is you." He took a staggering breath and promptly stepped away from her, afraid that, if he stayed at such close proximity to her, he'd do something utterly stupid. He ran a hand over his hair, surely disheveling it even more so, and shook his head, trying to appear nonchalant. "One way or another, you can't escape this. A bet is a bet after all." He jerked his chin towards the counter where the forgotten napkin laid over the smooth surface, the scrawled eyeliner-written letters shining brightly against the wrinkled white background.

She followed his gaze and nodded somberly as soon as she caught sight of their oh-so-formal contract. "I know. I'll do it."

"Don't worry, it'll be after you come back. And after you kick Cassidy's ass in court," he said, dubiously studying her from the corner of his eyes. He knew she needed the reminder that she had this thing, that he had her back, no matter what. She would always have him, body and soul At his words, Emma let out a defeated sigh, and he could have sworn she saw tears in his eyes, but he didn't allow himself to look that closely. "Thank you."

He inclined his head in her direction, about to wave a hand dismissively - as if he deserved her gratitude. Ha. She just needed to believe in herself and stop worrying. He picked at a stain that marred the smooth surface of the table, sighing heavily at the prospect of leaving - he didn't want to be a nuisance, and wasn't sure if Emma would want to keep him around too long after all had been said and done. He was searching for some excuse to leave, suddenly self-conscious of bugging her when she probably would want to be alone - or at least not ready to spend quality time with him, not now for sure - when her sudden request caught him completely by surprise.

"Hey. Could you please take care of Nana while I'm away and Henry is visiting me?" She paused, and sent him a somewhat tender and affectionate, tiny smile. "She misses you."

He was completely unable to fight the grin that crept over his lips. He had missed that fur of ball, he would gladly stay with her for how long it took. "Of course."

"Her owner misses you too."

"Send the lad my love. I miss him terribly. He can come around the studio whenever he wants, you know it."

They _had_ missed Henry. Grace especially of course, but Killian had grown so used to him being around, cheering him up with his stories, rather insightful ideas and random facts that he so enjoyed sharing with him that it had been quite difficult for him not to talk or see the boy on a nearly daily basis. He would never had thought he'd grow so affectionate and protective of some kid before - the only exception being Grace and Bae, of course, - as he would have never pegged himself as the paternal figure; but being around Henry and experiencing for the first time how it could be, caring for someone and protecting him so fiercely as Emma had proven to do since day one, had planted the idea in his mind.

He was violently brought to the present when he heard her voice, now lowered into something distant and heartbroken. "Her other owner misses you, too."

He lifted his head without even noticing, his eyes seeking hers. Scenes of them together swan behind his lids; her scent enveloping him, silk golden tresses caressing his skin and tickling his neck, the echo of her laughter whenever he managed to grab her or say something that she actually found funny.

Killian fought the urge to bury his face in his hands. Why did he torture himself with these thoughts? It was one thing to have Emma haunting his dreams, which he had no control over, but he should at least be able to control his mind's wanderings when he was awake...shouldn't he?

Knowing she was expecting some kind of answer, he finally admitted, "And I can't bear being away from the Swan clan for too long." The silence that crept over them was full of uncertainty, doubt and unexpressed feelings. He could see Emma fidgeting on her seat, and he decided it was time to put her out of her misery. He patted his jeans weakly, getting her attention, and he got up in one smooth movement. He threw a smirk her way while he checked his pockets and left the stool in its place - recalling distractedly how she used to mock him for being so OCD, being completely unable to leave things in other places where they didn't belong. "I guess it's time for me to leave. Thank you for the drink. And your conversation. And personality. And good looks."

The faintest ghost of a smile played across her lips, and for a moment, green eyes met blue without a trace of malice, suspicion, or anger. Killian felt his pulse speeding up slightly in his veins, and she hoped Emma didn't notice that his hands had become sweaty and they were positively shaking inside of his pockets. Just because she had smiled at one of his stupid jokes.

He was _so_ screwed. He always had been when it came to her.

"Are we going back to the start?" she asked, cocking her head to the side, no malice, no anger, no confusion behind her question. Just an honest curiosity that made Killian's heart clench. To the start? What did that even mean?

"You'd rather not have me - not even as a friend? Would you prefer us to, you know, not interact at all?" Killian didn't see the need to soften his words. "I'll do whatever you want me to, Emma. But I admit I'd rather have you as a friend, if I can't have all of you. You're not the only one who has craved your company."

...okay, maybe he had been too intense. But God, he wanted her to understand that he did need her. He would take whatever he could from her, even if he could only throw random and silly lines at her to make her laugh.

She gave him the tiniest of grins, and Killian couldn't help but smile back at her. "Get out, loser."

After a few moments of weighted silence, he rose to his feet and headed towards the door, but paused with his hand on the handle. "Bye, Swan," he said, smiling lightly. He remembered when they had been together how sometimes, when she was berating or teasing him, she still referred to him by his last name. It was her way of trying to put him in his place, and he found it oddly endearing. Sometimes he, too, would catch himself calling her 'Swan', especially when he was baiting her. Old habits did die hard.

Now though, at moments like this, he couldn't think of her as 'Swan'. Here, with the light streaming in the window, illuminating the gold in her hair, and making her eyes shine like some kind of precious gem, she was 'Emma' to him. Once she had become Emma to him, it was hard to change back to how they had first been, what they had meant for each other.

Emma's conflicted expression softened, and her eyes carried an emotion oddly resembling longing. Such was the intensity in her eyes, Killian had to shake himself hard not to launch himself against her, never letting her go. But he had to respect her wishes. And for now, it didn't include that kind of gestures. "See you soon, Jones. Behave yourself."

"I'll try my best." His expression sobered, and he stared back at her hard for a couple of seconds before shaking his head and walking out of her place. "Take care."

He walked back to his car, gaze carefully intent on his feet in order not to falter on his step and focusing on anything, everything from looking back at her.

So he counted.

28 breaths exhaled. 47 bricks stepped on the sidewalk. 4 red cars, 5 black cars, 3 white cars, 2 blue cars parked in her street. 3 wooden doors he had passed in his way. Two white mailboxes...

And, behind his unstoppable lists, a mantra that kept repeating over and over and over, never failing to make him flinch and wish he could go back there and speak those very words to her.

_I don't want to be your friend. I want to be so much more._

If he had indeed looked back over his shoulder, he might had caught Emma curled up in her window seat, sitting against the pane that looked out to the street, hugging something against her chest fiercely while Nana tried to console her tear-stained owner by leaning her head over her knee warmly.

His hoodie.

* * *

_**Haiiiiii you beautiful people!**_

_**How are you? Hope you're all having a fantastic summer! Here I come bringing cheer and goodies... **_

_**...or not? **_

_**How was it? did it make you laugh? cry? shout? want to punch me in the face? (in the feeeeeels?) **_

_**one way or another, that's the way it is, dearies! WE GOT SO MUCH THO. **_

_**anyway, before you yell at me for not having them together already (i love how you all ask me when they're getting back together - HA. As if I'd told you! THAT'S THE BEAUTY OF IT, KIDS!) remember there's still way to go...! **_

_**love you always, dears. Cheers and see you next chapter!**_

_**PS: load of heartbreaking songs lately tbh... "Speaking A Dead Language" by Joy Williams, "Winter" by Joshua Radin and "Everybody Lies" by Jason Walker were the winners, though. Hugely recommend them.**_


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Once Upon a Time, Humor, Romance