"You realize this invitation was grammatically incorrect."

Emma glanced in the mirror, smile tugging on the sides of her mouth when she heard Killian hum in confusion and it wasn't the first time she'd pointed out that the invitation they'd received was, in fact, grammatically incorrect.

The door to the bathroom was still closed – because she was fairly certain she was going to rip her hair out eventually if it didn't decide to stay in this updo thing that she'd been trying to accomplish for the better part of the last forty-five minutes and she'd really rather not have Killian witness that – but she could hear him pacing and she wasn't entirely sure how he was still standing.

It had been a month, in a bolded and italicized sort of way, a string of games that included more overtime than any team should play in one season, let alone a few weeks, and they'd only just wrapped up a six-game-in-nine-days-streak that was equal parts exhausting and exciting.

They won five of six games.

They won the night before.

In a shootout.

On the road.

And the Prudential Center wasn't really far away – 36 minutes on I-95, or so Google maps told her the night before, but that was a lie because I-95 was some kind of parking lot masquerading as a highway no matter what time it was and it took nearly an hour and a half to get back uptown and they'd gotten, approximately, four hours of sleep.

Add in a Christmas Eve and Christmas Day extravaganza at the brownstone the week before – painfully adorable kids, and an air hockey title to defend and a bread pudding that, this year, wasn't quite as bad as the first time around – and it was some sort of medical marvel that any of them could even form coherent sentences.

They'd gotten, maybe, twenty hours of sleep in the last week.

Emma could barely lift her arms up anymore. This updo was way more work than it was worth. And she probably should have asked Mary Margaret for help.

"Scarlet isn't going to shut up about his goal," Killian grumbled, brushing right past Emma's issues with the grammar of the invitation that was sitting somewhere in their apartment. "If I punch him at some point, do you think that'll go against the rules we've been given?"

Emma laughed, closing her eyes lightly and that was a dangerous game because she wasn't sure she was beyond just falling asleep on her feet.

It would be an actual miracle if any of them made it to midnight.

And it didn't really matter anyway – the invitation told them they needed to be out of...wherever they were going at one o'clock.

She was kind of grateful for that rule. She didn't need half-asleep hockey players on the ice for her New Year's Day event in Central Park. If any of them got hurt before the Olympics, the entire league was probably just going to rain down literal hellfire on the entire island of Manhattan.

"Swan," Killian called, knocking lightly on the bathroom door and her eyes snapped open. "I'm almost being entirely serious about punching Scarlet in the face. Your lack of response is concerning."

"Yeah, well, you're ignoring my grammar concerns, so quid pro quo or whatever."

He made a noise, something that sounded like a mix between a laugh and a yawn and it might have been the most endearing thing she'd ever heard. They were exhausted and there were a questionable number of games, but they kept winning and there was a metaphor in there that made Emma's pulse pick up.

"I've listened to all of your grammar concerns, love," Killian promised, the bed creaking slightly when he, presumably, dropped onto the edge.

She hoped he'd tied his own tie. She wasn't sure she had the mental faculties to tie it without inadvertently choking him.

"And," Emma prompted. She pursed her lips, staring into the mirror like that was going to change something, but her lips still looked incredibly red and, well, maybe she looked pretty good.

All things considered.

God, she was tired. And she needed Merida to answer her text messages about the event in Central Park on New Year's Day.

Planning an event in Central Park on New Year's Day was, suddenly, looking like the worst idea in the history of the entire world.

Emma just wanted to sleep.

"And," Killian echoed, grunting softly when it sounded like he was trying to force his heel through his shoes. "I still don't think you should mention that to Gina. Or Robin. Or anyone with a Locksley-Mills in their last name."

"Is that the right order?"

Killian made another noise, probably shrugging and this whole conversation likely would have been easier if the door was open. Or if Emma wasn't trying to avoid stabbing herself in the eye with her own mascara wand.

"Depends on who you ask, I suppose," he laughed. "Isn't that what the invitation said?"

Emma shrugged, well aware he couldn't actually see her and the cut of her dress left her ring hanging over fabric, twisting just out of her eyeline and it felt a little bit like a flashing, neon sign. She wasn't sure what for, but it was there. "I was way more concerned with the grammar of the invitation to care about the order of last names," she admitted. "You can't have a first annual anything. That doesn't make sense. Also it's a very long name. Way too wordy."

"To be fair, I'd put some fairly good money on the assumption that either Henry or Rol came up with the name of the event."

Emma's eyes flashed, like she was trying to look through the back of her head and out the door and the words were out of her mouth before she even realized what she was saying. "You want to put an actual bet on that?" she asked.

"You want to bet about a New Year's Eve party?"

"It was your idea! And I'm telling you first annual cannot be a thing! It doesn't make any sense. You've got to have something happen at least once before it can be annual. This should be the first-ever Mills-Locksley fancy dress competition."

"Or the other way around, depending on who you ask," Killian added and she rolled her eyes towards the ceiling because the whole thing was so absurd and sothis team in some kind of ridiculous way that she was surprised this was the first time anyone had suggested something like it.

"Have you memorized the invitation?"

Killian clicked his tongue, but that was an answer and it was difficult to fine-tune wingtip eyeliner when she was so busy swooning in her own bathroom.

The invitation landed on Emma's desk just before the stretch of games, a small stack of cardstock that probably cost a questionable amount of money and was actually tied with a gold ribbon. Scarlet laughed about it for what felt like several hours in the restaurant after the win against the Stars and Emma was actually concerned Regina was trying to turn him to stone with the force of her glare.

He stopped laughing when Robin smacked the side of his shoulder and demanded he read the rules because they're all for you anyway.

That, however, was a lie.

The First Annual Mills-Locksley Fancy Dress Competition and New Year's Eve Party. Or the other way around depending on who you ask was slated to be held at a very fancy loft that, probably, cost more than the invitations and required several different rules for everyone on the Rangers roster:

You must arrive downtown no later than 7:30. This rule is for you Cap, don't be late. You must be wearing an outfit that would be acceptable at the NHL Awards or Casino Night. No t-shirts. No team-branded. There will be awards for things, but don't make this weird Scarlet. You are encouraged to bring your own alcohol. You are required to bring your own alcohol. You are not allowed to talk point totals, standings, Cup defense, or, at any point during the night, start teaching Henry and Rol how to check. Seriously, Scarlet, no. We will all pretend like any of us have interests outside the aforementioned non-discussable points. You will leave by one in the morning because you have to be on the ice in Central Park on New Year's Day.

"I'm honestly surprised there are only eight rules," Killian said. "That seems a little low for Gina standards, doesn't it?"

Emma twisted her hair over her shoulder, pressing up on her toes in a misplaced attempt to try and get used to the idea of whatever heels she was going to have to wear all night. It didn't work. It just hurt her calves.

"Yeah, you want to tell her that?" she asked and she really needed to open the door. They were totally going to be late.

"Of course not."

She smiled, body falling forward slightly with the force of her laugh and she was glad there was a sink there because her hands fell on whatever the sink was made of, glancing at her reflection and hoping that the lighting in whatever fancy downtown loft they were going to would help hide the bags under her eyes.

There was a sound on the other side of the door – something that sounded suspiciously like a shoulder colliding with wood – and she had to jump back when she twisted the handle, Killian nearly falling forward when there wasn't anything to brace his body against anymore.

"God," Emma groaned, but she was still smiling and maybe her exclamation wasn't so much about the professional hockey player falling towards her and more because the professional hockey player she was living with looked so goddamn good in his suit. "What were you doing?"

He hadn't actually tied his tie.

And the suit was blue or navy or whatever, with a white shirt underneath and it did something stupid to the color of his eyes, made them sharper or more obvious, and it all looked incredible and wasn't quite the same as the one he'd worn to the season opener last year and he must have ordered something too.

They were never going to leave their apartment.

"Waiting to hear the terms of your bet," Killian said, but his eyes didn't meet hers and Emma bit her lips when she realized his gaze was trailing across her dress and the ring hanging from her neck.

The ends of his lips quirked up when he glanced back up at her and she'd never been to prom, but this kind of felt like that.

"Swan," he breathed, taking a step towards her until he was in her space, a hand landing on her hip. The dress was black and vaguely festive and maybe Emma was a not-so-secret, enormous sap because she hoped it called up memories and feelings and something about new starts with new contracts and a new apartment and a new win streak, but she wasn't ever going to say any of those things out loud.

It absolutely did not matter.

He totally knew.

"Something wrong, Cap?" Emma asked, tilting her head slightly and his eyes got bluer or more intense or something else that definitely was not possible, but it was difficult to think about any of those things when his hand tightened.

Killian shook his head slowly, lips pressed together and maybe if Emma just spent most of the night blushing, that would help mask the distinct look of exhaustion she was fairly positive was just sitting on her shoulders at this point.

"Absolutely nothing," he said softly. "The opposite in fact. Swan, you look…."

"I know."

Emma smiled, a rush of something that felt distinctly like confidence shooting down her spine and maybe they could leave whatever downtown loft they were already supposed to be on their way to early – so she could spend most of the night kissing her boyfriend. And getting her boyfriend out of the suit that fit incredibly well.

She tugged on the front of his jacket and he hadn't managed to actually finish getting dressed, but there were lapels and he moved when she pulled like there were magnets involved somehow.

Killian ducked his head, dragging his lips against the side of her neck that wasn't covered with her hair and maybe she should have worked more on the whole updo thing if that was something that was going to happen. She wasn't sure when she'd pushed up on her toes again, only aware of height differences when she dropped back on her heels, and Emma laughed when he made some kind of absurd noise in the back of her throat as soon as she moved.

"This is going to be incredibly distracting," Killian mumbled, mouth moving down to her collarbone instead and they were all a very violent group because she was going to punch him if he left a mark.

"Which part?" Emma asked. She hadn't let go of his jacket yet, one hand still twisted up with fabric and the other arm slung around his neck and she suddenly realized she was bent back slightly, precariously close to the sink and they couldn't just start making out in the bathroom.

Again.

They'd been in the apartment for nearly five months and half a season and while there were almost always games and events and things to plan for, there were also moments that seemed to make everything else worth it – a space that was theirs in some sort of way that nothing had ever really been and Emma was, clearly, losing her grip on her own sentimentality.

His laugh was warm on her skin, leaving goosebumps in his wake and that only led to more laughter and a circle of flirting that probably wouldn't ever end because Emma was so goddamn happy it still made her head spin just a bit.

"Any of it," Killian admitted. "When did you even get this?"

Emma shrugged, or at least tried to shrug and it only left her nearly elbowing him in the chest. He nipped behind her ear in retaliation. "Jeez, you are a menace," she said, doing her best to sound as frustrated as she absolutely was not.

She felt like...she was on fire or something and that didn't make any sense at all because they lived together, for God's sake.

She grumbled about his penchant for trying to organize her boots by the front door and he couldn't really stand that she refused to put her toothbrush in the toothbrush container, but he'd also been the first one to promise the Central Park idea was fantastic and Emma was fairly certain her heart actually stopped when he went through concussion protocol in November.

And they'd already made out in their own bathroom. More than once. That felt like a sign.

For something...permanent.

She wasn't thinking that. At all. No.

Emma was happy as they were with their boots and their toothbrushes and two bedrooms and so what if Ruth asked about the ring around her neck at Thanksgiving and then proceeded to question the potential for other rings and other plans and Emma's stomach had jumped into her throat and Mary Margaret stared at her like some kind of ticking time bomb waiting to go off in the middle of the restaurant.

She hadn't – until Killian got hit up against the boards by some asshole in Arizona and missed the whole third period and Emma nearly dislocated her thumb slamming her phone screen in an attempt to figure out what was going on.

It was fine.

They were fine. She was just tired.

Killian was still moving his mouth against her jaw, fingers doing something decidedly unfair on the fabric of her dress and they'd moved without her realizing it, Emma stumbling over her own feet when he walked them out of the bathroom.

"Were you really being serious about the Scarlet thing?" Emma asked, mind not entirely in her control anymore and that might have been for the best considering what she'd been thinking about. "Because that's going to make tomorrow weird if you're punching him tonight."

Killian hummed and she could feel the hint of a smile on his mouth when he dropped back to the curve of her shoulder. "I honestly can't remember anything before seeing you in this dress," he muttered and it was, easily, the worst line she'd ever heard.

It absolutely worked.

"Almost heavy-handed, don't you think?" Emma asked, hoping the vaguely sarcastic laugh in her voice would mask whatever it was several different internal organs did at the way his hand kept moving like he was trying to trace her for posterity.

"And," she added. "There's this new fangled thing called the internet, which makes it almost too easy to buy things on car rides from the Garden back home."

Emma pulled back slightly, twisting her eyebrows in a feeble attempt to imitate Killian and she wasn't entirely prepared for the lock on his face – like he was stunned or awed or a mixture of both and neither one of them was helping her mind stay in the present.

God.

She needed to go over the party rules again.

They needed to get out of their apartment.

"What?" Emma asked cautiously, her back protesting at the arch she was in. Killian's hand moved, wrapping around her waist and tugging her back up and one of them made some kind of absurd noise when they practically crashed into each other, but she was far too busy kissing him back to be too worried about anything else.

Her eyes fluttered shut when she felt him tilt his head and it would surprise her if they were even allowed into the loft. They probably looked like they'd spent the last five minutes making out in several different rooms.

Emma's fingers scraped over the back of his neck, drawing a sound out of him that was some sort of ridiculous ego boost and she ignored the stretch in her calves, pushing back up on her toes to reach him better, a mess of lips and tongue and hands everywhere.

If he had a tie, she would have tugged it.

"We need to work on your media training," Emma mumbled, mostly against his mouth because she couldn't quite bring herself to pull away again. "That wasn't even close to an appropriate answer. That was a non-answer."

He grinned at her – or at least she thought he did, was fairly certain his lips moved against hers, but that might have just been an attempt at more kissing. "I'm not sure that's an actual term, Swan," Killian said. It was definitely a smile.

"We could bet on that too if you want."

He laughed, burrowing his head into the crook of her shoulder and she wasn't even really touching the ground anymore, supported by his arm and several different emotions that were determined to get her to think about things in big, future type ways.

"That's cheating," he countered. "You'll ask Lucas and she'll side with you by default. Also, I already know that I'm going to win whatever the terms of the first bet were so I don't want to threaten that victory."

"You're win obsessed."

"When they're guaranteed."

Emma rolled her eyes, but the emotions were still there and, possibly, growing or mutating or something. "Seems awfully confident," she muttered. "And you can't just attack makeout once we get downtown."

"We could just...not go downtown."

"We can't do that."

"Sure we can. We're already going to be late. That was rule number one. There's almost no point in going now. Plus, we're both lacking on sleep. We stay here. We discuss this dress some more and then...we sleep after we don't sleep. And then we're all prepared for tomorrow."

"I think you're trying to use my own event against me."

"I wouldn't do that, love," he grinned and she wasn't sure if he licked his lips to try and prove his point or because of some unconscious thing, but she'd probably think about it for far longer than she should.

"Literally two seconds ago you were talking about terms of a bet that would require you to go downtown," Emma argued, not entirely sure what she was arguing since most of her wanted to stay in the apartment as well, but she was also kind of competitive and she wanted to win the bet and maybe show off the dress.

If there were awards, she kind of wanted to win.

Maybe the rules should have called her out too.

"Ah, semantics," Killian said, waving his free hand through the air. "Don't you kind of want to blow off the prom, Swan?"

She felt her eyebrows fly up her forehead and he knew – she had no idea how he knew, but he did and the quirk of his mouth when he realized she knew that he knew or whatever was, easily, the most attractive thing she'd ever seen in her life.

So, naturally, Emma swatted at his shoulder.

"What?" Killian asked knowingly and she just widened her eyes until the smirk turned into something a bit more genuine. "It feels a little bit like prom, doesn't it?"

"I don't know. I was kind of busy being a ward of the state and avoiding most of the high school to go to prom."

Most of Midtown was closed because of the day and balls dropping and people who had, likely, been standing outside for hours already, but Emma kind of felt like she was standing in the middle of Times Square anyway – the force of Killian's smile equal to several different lit-up billboards and Broadway marquees.

"Exactly," he said and they were walking again, his fingers finding hers to tug her back towards the front of the apartment and the kitchen and he left his tie on the bed.

She nearly fell four more times down the hallway and they really did have a questionable amount of square footage for two people. "You're going to pull my arm out of the socket," Emma muttered, voice just a bit more breathless than she was hoping for when she skidded to a stop just on the edge of the kitchen floor.

And she absolutely did not expect him to open the refrigerator.

"What are you doing?" she asked and she was going to have to redo her lipstick. She'd have to do it in the car. It was already after seven.

Killian glanced over his shoulder, eyebrows twisted and amusement practically rolling off him and he had something in his hand. Emma took a step forward, careful not to trip over her dress or run into the Conn Smythe sitting on the counter and he beamed at her when he held the plastic container out in front of him.

"For you," he said, twisting his wrist slightly and she hadn't really been holding her breath, but she exhaled loudly anyway, a mess of romance and feeling and wannabe prom on New Year's Eve.

It was a goddamn corsage.

Of course it was.

"When did you even have time?" Emma asked, whispering out the words and reaching her hand forward to trail her fingers over the plastic like it was actually gold or filled with jewels instead of a few roses that seemed to match her outfit perfectly.

"You're the one who was telling me about the internet, love. Although I would like to add in the ability of the internet to contact other people in order to deliver things, making it all a bit easier for those of us who had to be on the ice at ten o'clock this morning."

"You were just mad you couldn't check Scarlet in practice."

Killian made a dismissive noise, an agreement without actually agreeing to the words, and Emma glanced up, doing her best not to fall into the deep end of emotions and sentiment and she hoped there was a lot of champagne that night.

"He's going to talk about that juke he made all night," Killian grumbled, flipping up one of the plastic tabs and for someone who was clearly frustrated by the schedule and the team and the rules, he managed to be almost delicate when picking up the corsage.

It did something absurd to Emma's heart.

"That's because it was a good move," Emma said and she hoped her hand didn't shake when he slipped the flowers over her wrist. That would have been embarrassing. "I mean...not the move you made, but a good move. And, technically, the game-winner."

Killian's shoulders shifted when he laughed, eyes darting up towards Emma before falling back on her wrist and her left hand and it was all just a little heavy-handed, but she hadn't been able to get Ruth's questions out of her mind entirely in the last few weeks.

"Nice save," he murmured, tugging her hand up to brush his lips over her knuckles and that felt like eighty-two jukes in front of the net and several different shootout victories and a direct line to winning the President's Trophy. "We're really going to be late though."

"Worth it. Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"Can't inflate that ego too much."

He flashed her another smile, lacing his fingers through his and her heels were by the front door. He absolutely was not going to wear a tie. Or, apparently, stop surprising her. "You know," Killian continued, doing his best to shrug into a jacket without actually letting go of her hand. "I never went to prom either."

"What?" Emma asked and he shrugged slightly, tugging her own jacket off the peg next to the door and she tried not to flatten the flowers on her wrist. "How is that even possible?"

"Was that a compliment, Swan?"

"Have you seen yourself?"

He barked out a laugh, head thrown back and body shaking slightly and Emma wasn't entirely sure she'd actually grabbed her phone. They were a New Year's Eve disaster. "Oh shit," Emma mumbled and Killian's eyebrows were going to sustain permanent damage if he kept moving them that much. "We didn't get any alcohol."

Killian was still laughing when he kissed her, easy and certain and he'd bought her roses, God and all she could do was shout obscenities and question why there wasn't a line to the brownstone door with teenage girls wanting to ask him to the prom.

A New Year's Eve disaster.

"This whole thing is absurd," he said, like that was that and it kind of was and Scarlet was totally going to make the awards thing weird. "C'mon, love, the sooner we get downtown, the sooner we can leave."

It took them a small eternity to get downtown and Killian grumbled about that for most of the ride, several pointed opinions as to Regina's event planning skills and ability to make this as difficult as possible for everyone involved and he wasn't impressed when Emma pointed out that the Mills-Locksley family, or the other way around depending on who you asked, lived four blocks away from the event space just off Union Square.

"It's the principle of the thing, Swan," Killian said, not for the first time, when the car came to a stop in front of a brick building with fairy lights in the plants outside and she rolled her eyes when he held out his hand expectantly for her.

"Yeah, so you've mentioned. How late are we, exactly?"

"It's after eight."

"Jeez."

It didn't really surprise her that they were immediately met with voices and shouts, but she jumped slightly anyway, Killian kissing the top of her head when they walked towards the questionably large doors of the building.

Liam was leaning against the wall just inside the lobby, a burgundy tie that looked suspiciously similar to Minnesota colors and his feet crossed at the ankles and he just lifted his eyebrows when they walked inside, a silent judgement about their arrival that was louder than anything else he could have actually said.

"This is just ostentatious," Killian muttered, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and nodding in Liam's direction. "Are you...waiting for us out here?"

Liam rolled his eyes hard enough that Emma was momentarily worried they were going to freeze that way and the Vankald-Jones stayed in New York longer than last year, invited to the prom or the party or whatever it was – and there was some college tournament happening at the Garden when three of the Rangers six road games happened.

And the Vankalds were incredibly doting grandparents who, when presented with a brand-new grandchild and a first Christmas, seemed to rise to an occasion only previously reached in fairytales and made-for-TV movies.

"Drew the short straw," Liam muttered, crossing his arms and it was definitely a Minnesota tie. "How come you're not dressed up? You look nice, Emma."

Killian lifted his free hand, waving across his body like that was an answer and it was freezing in that lobby. "Thanks," she laughed. "Nice tie."

"Where did you even find that?" Killian asked, leaning them both forward to try and tug on the fabric, but Liam just swatted his hand away.

"Get out of here. This is a perfectly acceptable tie. Which you aren't wearing. You just out to break every single rule tonight or…"

"Shut up. I feel like there should be a gopher on this tie or something. Oh, no, it'd be better with gold stripes. What color is El's dress? Is she wearing gold up there?"

Liam narrowed his eyes, an unamused look on his face. "You are wearing Rangers blue. You weren't supposed to wear team-branded. Every, single rule Killian."

He froze, eyes darting towards Emma and she groaned loudly, her whole body sagging slightly when she realized Liam was right – they were all red and blue, some kind of abstract version of a home uniform that would probably draw several minutes worth of laughter out of Scarlet when they, finally, got out of that lobby.

"Why'd they send you down here?" Killian asked, but there was an edge to his voice that probably didn't belong in the question. Emma widened her eyes. Liam didn't blink.

"We were fairly certain you were just going to blow it off," he shrugged. "I had some confidence that you weren't a total ass, so I didn't argue my aforementioned short straw too much. Plus, Gina making us all schlep down here on New Year's Eve is just cruel and unusual."

Emma groaned again, but Killian let out some kind of sound that was a mix between a whoop and just general victory and she was shaking her head when he mumbled I told you, Swan in her ear.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," she said, pulling on Killian's jacket and ignoring whatever it was Liam was doing with his face. As if he knew something. Some reason that they would blow off a New Year's Eve party with the entire team and fancy dresses. Killian kept staring at him. "So," Emma continued slowly, dragging out the word and both Jones brothers nearly dislocated something in their determination to listen to her. "We going to go upstairs or nah?"

"Sure," Killian said brusquely and Liam's face did something else, gaze flitting down towards Emma's arm at her side.

She tried not to ask more questions.

The room was, as expected, filled with most of the New York Rangers roster and front office, all of them spinning on the spot when Liam shouted he'd found them, finally and Emma was fairly sure she hadn't imagined Killian's arm tightening.

"What the hell, Cap?" Robin yelled, marching across the room with what actually appeared to be a top hat on. "Where's your tie?"

Killian rolled his whole head in response. "Somewhere at home. Probably next to Swan's phone."

"Em," Ruby called, but the name came out a bit like a growl when she dodged between actual uniform-wearing waiters touting appetizers and pre-dinner spritzers. She had to use Robin to stop, slamming into his back with an over exaggerated oof and she was was wearing a tuxedo, dressed in head to toe black that probably matched Dor's outfit. With a bow tie. "Did you really not bring your phone? Is that why you weren't answering?"

"We were running late," Emma explained. "We didn't want to break all the rules."

And it was clearly a mistake because she could hear Scarlet cackling from the other side of the room, Roland barely visible when he sprinted towards Killian launching himself up with a not-so-quiet Hook that drew the attention of the entire wait staff.

Killian groaned when a dress shoe collided with his thigh, but he barely even moved when Roland worked his way over his shoulder and Robin mumbled something under his breath about playing favorites. Will was still laughing at them by the time he worked his way across the room.

He had two drinks in one hand.

"What the hell, Scarlet?" Killian asked, rolling one shoulder to try and even out Roland's weight.

"Where you been, Cap?" Will grinned and he was already making the awards thing weird because his suit wasn't so much a suit as it was a tuxedo with tails and a tie that was closer to metallic than any other adjective Emma could think of. "Where's your tie?"

"What is everyone's obsession with ties? I am not wearing a tie if it is not a league-mandated requirement or league-sponsored event."

"Jeez, bah humbug. You need a drink, Cap?"

"Where did you even get a tuxedo like that?" Killian continued, nodding towards the jacket and Will looked like he was ready to actually spin on the spot. "Why is any of this happening?"

Roland was still hanging upside down and it was only a matter of time before Regina realized that, but Will had his phone out and was tapping his thumb on the screen. "For the likes, obviously, Cap," he said and Robin rolled his eyes. "Give the people what they want. You know how many followers I've got now? A shit ton. Sorry, Rol."

"You are the least mature person to ever play professional hockey, you know that?"

"I think you're jealous of my social media following and my ability to promo this team. I mean, Lucas totally is."

"You're insane. And that tux is ridiculous."

Emma did her best to swallow back her laugh. "Just as an aside," she added. "If you guys check each other in front of the crowd at Central Park tomorrow. I'm going to kill both of you."

"That makes two of us," another voice yelled, someone that dimly sounded like Arthur, but also sounded a little bit drunk and Emma gaped at Killian. He shook his head.

"I'm not going to check Scarlet tomorrow," he promised. "I just want to know where he got that outfit and why we decided to have some kind of fake prom on New Year's when we could have just stayed at home."

Ruby snickered, shaking her hair off her shoulders and nodding when a waiter offered something on a cracker. "You're kind a homebody now, aren't you Jones?"

Killian glared at her, but the words did something to Emma's ability to stay on her own feet and they were drawing a crowd.

Elsa wasn't wearing a gold dress – it was silver and kind of blue'ish and obviously gorgeous and it, somehow, still managed to match Liam's tie. "Hey," she said brightly, tugging Emma towards her as if they hadn't seen each other two days before at the Garden. "Look who finally managed to show up. Where's your tie, KJ?"

"Oh my God," Killian sighed. Emma took a step back, letting her back brush against his chest and she grinned when his arm found its way back around her waist, some kind of human anchor in the absurdity that was the Rangers not-quite prom on New Year's Eve.

"Was I right?"

"I have no idea what you're asking me, El. Where are your kids?"

"With Mom and Dad, obviously. Stop avoiding my questions, KJ."

Emma let out a sound that was more understanding than an actual gasp, but the realization hit her suddenly and they probably should have just stayed home because Killian was going to mumble under his breath all night about the distinct lack of morality on this team.

"Traffic or which direction we came?" Emma asked and Elsa's eyes practically lit up. Will took more pictures.

"You've got to be honest too," Liam said. "Because there's an entire plane ride's worth of sleep riding on this."

"Wow, big stakes."

"Is this why you were actually downstairs?" Killian demanded. Liam shrugged. "Oh my God."

Emma let her head fall on Killian's shoulder, some kind of unspoken support that was a bit more of a challenge when there was still a kid hanging off him. "We took Henry Hudson because we couldn't go any other way and, yeah, I mean it's New Year's Eve. We hit a ton of traffic."

Elsa actually punched the air in celebration, getting a few inches on her jump and Killian stared at her as if he'd never seen her before. "I knew it," she shouted, twisting her head between either Jones brother and her smile was infectious. Even Killian looked entertained. Kind of. "I told you they wouldn't be able to get down on the West Side."

"Well, that's dumb," Liam mumbled, scowling at Will's camera when he pushed the phone in his face. "Do not document this, Scarlet. I want this forgotten and that Uber driver...arrested or something."

"'Tis the season," Ruby chuckled, directing a waiter with around the group and demanding more alcohol in these spritzers "Can we still say that?"

"I think it still counts because we're still in the week that includes time off from school," Robin reasoned. He made a noise in the back of his throat, when Will turned his phone on him, grabbing the thing and stuffing in his back pocket in a move that was so dad it made Emma wonder if all of them were going to get grounded by the end of the night.

"What the hell, Locksley?" Will snapped and both Elsa and Ruby clicked their tongues, nodding almost in tandem to Roland.

Roland, however, seemed far more interested in trying to talk about standings and point totals and Emma was sure, somewhere, Regina was glaring at something.

"Yeah, you've got to give him that back, Locksley," Killian muttered. "How else is going to calm the masses clamoring for all of our pictures on the internet?"

Emma made a face and he shouldn't have been able to tell, but he knew she'd been thinking about this like prom and probably just had some kind of Swan sixth-sense at this point, so she wasn't remotely surprised when she could feel Killian's questioning stare on the side of his head.

"Scarlet and I kind of have a deal," Emma explained, chancing a glance up and he was smiling. Idiot. Maybe she was the one who was going to attack-kiss him at this party. Waiting until midnight seemed kind of pointless.

"And it's really important, right Em?" Will asked. Ruby rolled her eyes.

"It's...helpful."

"And includes Scarlet's, apparently, very strong social media presence?" Killian suggested. "Lucas, your face is going to get stuck like that if you keep doing that thing with your eyes."

"You're not a doctor, Cap," Ruby hissed, leaning around Will to pull his phone out of Robin's pocket. "Where's A? I bet she can prove my point."

"That word."

"Scarlet was right, you really do need some alcohol. Where's Arthur? I think he's honestly hoarding it."

"Anyway," Emma said sharply and Killian kissed her hair again. "At the risk of somehow making Scarlet think he's even more important than he already is…"

Will scoffed. "That's rude, Emma. I won us that game yesterday."

"You made one move and caught a garbage goalie off guard. Can I explain what we're doing now?" He nodded, slinging an arm around Robin in a not-so-subtle attempt to get his phone back. "Anyway," Emma repeated. "Scarlet is actually kind of funny on Instagram and people follow him because he posts all kinds of stuff about the team and things that Mulan obviously won't get when we're all following the rules, so tomorrow he's in charge of the social media stuff before practice. Live stuff when we take the train uptown and then more photos and probably some ops with fans because we really did give out a shit ton of tickets. Sorry, Rol."

Roland didn't seem all that upset about the less-than-responsible adults around him and Will grinned at Killian like he was getting ready to challenge him to some kind of Instagram duel. "Plus, Cap," he added, ignoring Emma's sigh when he wouldn't shut up, "You're popular subject matter. Like four of my top six photos this year have you in them."

Killian quirked an eyebrow – the only sign he heard Liam and Robin's uproarious laughter the slight twitch of his mouth and he tugged Emma even closer to his side. Roland almost kicked her in the waist.

"Your feet mate," Killian mumbled and Emma was dimly aware of Ariel's screech a few feet away. "God, Red, you're going to break everyone's ear drums."

"And you're going to break both of you shoulders," Ariel argued. She reached up to try and tug on the back of Roland's jacket, but that just seemed to get him to dig his heels in – literally and metaphorically, working another hiss out of Killian when he, presumably, made contact with the slightly purple bruise on the side of his hip.

"Is that even possible?" Emma asked. The conversation had, officially, fallen off the rails and she grabbed one of the glasses in Will's hands before he could even begin to object. "I need this more than you do."

Will lowered his eyebrows. "I won us that game yesterday," he argued again and Killian didn't even try to disguise his sigh. "I should be able to drink whatever I want."

"I'm not questioning either of those things. I am, however, telling you that I'm fairly certain I've got tendonitis in my wrist from signing forms for tomorrow and I want to drink as much champagne as possible. Also, Robin, we didn't bring any alcohol."

Emma wasn't sure who looked more impressed – Robin or Will or, possibly, Killian, but she couldn't see him when he ducked his head to press a kiss against her temple, a particularly impressive feat with an almost eight-year-old draped over most of his body.

"Yeah, I figured that when you guys showed up empty-handed," Robin grinned, barely even flinching when Henry collided with his side. "It's fine. I won twenty bucks."

Killian's eyes flashed, rolling his shoulders and Roland laughed when he nearly fell back on the floor. Ariel clicked her tongue in reproach, muttering about holding your form if you're just going to start squatting kids now, but Emma was far too focused trying to make sure Killian didn't actually punch two linemates in the span of one conversation.

Liam was laughing. Ruby looked a little smug.

"What could you have possibly bet on?" Killian growled, gaze darting towards Liam who just held up his hands and something was going on.

"Well, we all knew you weren't ever going to show up on time," Robin said. "But Scarlet figured you'd at least remember the alcohol rule if only to try and make sure Arthur's eyes bug out of his head a little bit later on tonight when he realizes we're breaking those rules as well."

"You're a rebel, Cap," Will added, mumbling something unintelligible when another waiter walked by with drinks on a tray. He handed one to Emma without asking. She finished it in three swigs.

Robin waved his hand through the air. "Anyway," he continued. "I disagreed with Scarlet, knew you totally forgot about the alcohol rule when you asked if you actually had to wear a jacket last night and figured I'd get something out of it."

"That's insane, you know that," Killian said, but his eyes widened when Emma started to laugh and the alcohol had worked its way through her much quicker than she expected. "What?"

"You wanted to bet about the name of the party," she shouted and half a dozen pairs of scandalized eyes fell on Killian.

He might have blushed.

The tips of his ears went red.

And Emma wasn't aware she could get buzzed from two drinks, but it was New Year's Eve and that probably required fresh starts and brand-new tolerances for alcohol.

"I'm sorry, what?" Robin asked, a challenge in his voice and if they all checked each other on Central Park ice the next day because they were upset over team traditions, then Emma was going to be the one punching people.

Roland kicked Killian again. Henry was barely staying upright.

Ruby looked positively overjoyed.

"Traitor," Killian mumbled, glancing at Emma, but there was still a ghost of a smile on his face. "And we didn't even settle terms, Swan. That should nullify it all."

Emma shrugged, appreciating whatever sort of metaphorical fire had settled in the pit of her stomach and she wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or the flowers or the way he looked at her – like she was everything New Year's Eve should be in some kind of absurd, emotional way.

She was definitely buzzed.

"I think you're trying to back out of a bet that was your idea because you're trying to stay on some kind of betting high horse," Emma challenged. Roland, finally, dropped back on the ground, staring up expectantly at her, and she rested both hands on his shoulders when she turned back towards him.

"Rol," she said seriously and he nodded once. Will did his best to turn his laugh into a cough. "I need you to tell me something and it's super important, ok?"

"Ok," he answered, nodding again with wide eyes and someone was taking pictures. It was probably Ruby. Or possibly Mary Margaret. Oh, shit, they should find David and Mary Margaret.

"Did you and Henry come up with the name for this party?"

Roland lowered his eyebrows in confusion and Emma wasn't quite as steady on her heels when she crouched down to his level, Killian's hand on her shoulder sending a shock of something very particular down her spine.

The fire in her stomach was an inferno and she couldn't stop thinking about prom and after prom and spiked punch.

She wished it was closer to midnight.

"That's what you were betting on?" Elsa asked, a hint of something on the edge of her voice that Emma didn't entirely understand and the Vankalds knew something. Something big.

She was kind of glad Anna was on some mountain somewhere. She wasn't sure if she could handle a concentrated attack.

"God, Cap, you really need to get off that high horse," Robin muttered. "And obviously. First annual isn't a thing. You think Gina would allow grammatically incorrect names if our kids didn't come up with it?"

Emma yelped, nearly crashing onto the floor and there was another camera shutter when Killian tugged her back up. "I told you," she muttered, talking mostly into his jacket while she tried to wrap her arm around his waist.

"I think it's a wash, Swan," Killian said, hooking his chin over the top of her head. "You knew the grammar and I knew it was Henry and Rol's idea. Plus we never did really get around to setting terms. Can't win anything if there's nothing to win."

Will growled – or possibly gagged – and Ruby started shouting bring the alcohol over here, Arthur and no one was breaking more rules than the head coach of the New York Rangers, eyes just a bit glazed over when he stumbled towards them.

"Where's your tie, Jones?" Arthur asked as soon as he stopped in front of them, holding out a bottle of what appeared to be very expensive champagne towards Ruby. "Lucas, you've got to take this if you're going to demand it."

She saluted in response, taking a not-so-small sip straight out of the bottle. "Gina, didn't see that, did she?"

"I think she's talking to that Garden of Dreams person."

"Arthur, do you not know Aurora's name?" Emma asked, wiggling her fingers when Ruby didn't immediately start sharing the champagne. It was very expensive champagne.

He shrugged in response, all three first-liners and Liam both snickering under their breath. "Three sheets to the wind," Killian whispered, barely even loud enough for Emma to hear. "Give me some of that, love."

She mumbled a few curses under her breath and her eyes widened when Killian's drink was closer to a gulp, a shiver working through him when the alcohol landed. "We won last night, Arthur," he continued. "How come you don't remember Aurora's name? She's been engaged to Phillip forever."

Emma stiffened slightly at that and Killian's sixth-sense must have gone into overdrive or something because he glanced at her, eyes narrowed in confusion or, possibly, intoxication and the champagne had already been passed on – Robin taking what looked like a double straight out of the bottle.

"We're all going to get the flu," Ruby grumbled, but the bottle was in Liam's hand and, well, 'tis the season for caring or sharing or drinking very expensive champagne at some kind of world-record pace.

"If we all get the flu, you can't put that on Instagram, ok, Scarlet?" Emma asked. Her shoulders still felt tight. She was never going to forgive Ruth Nolan.

"Yeah, I know how it works, Em."

She opened her mouth to make an almost well-thought-out response, but there were heels coming towards her and Regina looked somewhere in the realm of murderous, Mary Margaret and David half a step behind her with drinks in their hand.

"Reese's?" Emma chanced, but she didn't respond before Regina yanked the bottle away from Elsa and...promptly drank the rest of it. Will and Robin both tried to make sure she didn't drown herself in champagne, but she just held up one finger, somehow managing to keep drinking while shaking her head and Mary Margaret looked a little shellshocked.

Regina exhaled when she, finally, finished the champagne and very-drunk Arthur was hysterical, whistling when the empty bottle was handed off to a waiter who also looked a little impressed.

"Did she try and show you her Pinterest board?" Arthur asked knowingly and Regina practically snarled. He nodded in understanding.

Emma had no idea what was going on.

"She's not going coming with us to the Games right?" Regina demanded. The whole group shrugged.

"You're going to have to be more specific, Gina," Killian muttered after a few more moments of confused silence. "Are we actually talking about Aurora?"

Regina nodded again and Mary Margaret actually mumbled words under her breath that weren't complimentary. "Jeez, Reese's," Emma breathed.

Mary Margaret just widened her eyes. "And you thought my appetizer count was extravagant. Just wait until Aurora corners you." She paused, furrowing her eyebrows when she realized most of the roster was standing in front of her. "Did you buy that tux, Scarlet?"

"It's good, right?" he grinned. "I'm totally going to win all the awards."

"We said not to make it weird, Scarlet," Robin sighed, wrapping an arm around Regina and she seemed to almost visibly deflate. Or at least start to breathe again.

"Ah, well, Cap broke all the rules anyway. Plus, I won that game yesterday, so the rules don't apply."

"Oh my God."

"Can we get drunk now, please?" Ruby asked, jumping when another waiter appeared next to her with more spritzers as quickly as if he'd teleported there. Emma groaned. "You know, a responsible amount of drunk. Not enough to screw up the event tomorrow. Sorry, Rol."

Roland wasn't even standing there any more. He and Henry were tucked into a corner, a phone held in between them and they were definitely watching a game.

"You are all terrible at following rules," Regina muttered, but she took a glass anyway. "Should we toast now or closer to midnight? Detective?"

David nearly snapped to attention when he was addressed, eyes wide and Emma wasn't sure who looked more proud – her or Mary Margaret. "Oh, right, yeah," David stammered. "I mean, no shame in doubling up on luck, right?"

There was a general murmur of agreement and David toasted twice – once in that circle of team and family and feeling and then again, at midnight, with Times Square just barely visible through the window of the loft and Killian's arm around Emma's shoulder, lips pressed against her temple. He kissed her at midnight.

Will and Ruby won awards for their outfits, pictures posted on Instagram and several hundred likes and Killian didn't even grumble much when he agreed that the top six photos of the year weren't all that bad.

And they definitely got drunk, stumbling out of the cab they definitely overpaid for because it was after midnight and traffic was the worst and neither one of those things seemed to matter when their apartment door slammed shut, Emma's back pressed against it and her fingers already trying to tug off Killian's belt.

"I'm not going anywhere, Swan," he laughed softly, reaching up to brush her hair away from her face. "And I'd really rather this didn't happen against the door."

"I'm not entirely opposed to the door."

He grinned at her, tongue pressed into the corner of his lips and it did something absurd to her heart and her pulse and her ability to form coherent sentences and she'd settle for just getting his jacket off him at that point.

They left a trail of clothes in their wake that they'd both be equally frustrated and entertained by the next morning, but it didn't really matter in the moment, as long as she got to keep touching him and Emma gasped when she landed in the middle of the mattress, knocking off pillows and his tie and her phone sounded like a boulder when it landed on the ground.

"If my screen cracked, I'm going to be really annoyed," Emma mumbled, but the words seemed to get caught in her throat when he dragged his teeth over the strap of her dress. "That's cheating. Jeez, fuck, do that again."

Killian laughed and he did – trying to push her further up the bed in the process and her hair was everywhere when she tried to work her foot in between his legs to push his pants off.

It all felt vaguely familiar and brand-new and, maybe, just a bit hopeful too and they were still winning.

It was the most sentimental thing she'd ever thought.

Until she breathed I love you as soon as his fingers curled around her thigh and tugged up her dress and she could feel Killian's smile against her neck when he started kissing out nonsensical patterns on her skin.

"Where is the zipper on this?" he asked and Emma was pleased to find his voice nearly as wrecked as hers, the words scratching their way out and reigniting that fire in her stomach. He traced his hands over hips, trying to work his fingers under her back and laughing probably wasn't the most romantic thing she could do in bed on New Year's morning, but it made sense and he was so goddamn impatient.

The muscles in her face were going to get stuck in a permanent smile.

"Swan," Killian muttered, fingers moving again and tracing across the inside of her thighs. Her hips practically bucked up and she wasn't sure who made what noise, but she nearly forgot about all the reasons she'd been frustrated before and Killian's smirk seemed to move across his face in slow motion. "The dress, love. It's got to come off."

"I thought you were here all night or something."

"I'm not disputing that, but I'd very much like the dress out of the way."

Her eyes darted up, trying to take stock of his face or something equally absurd, but she was glad she did because he was staring at her like she was everything and then several other adjectives and she was so happy it felt like she might actually burst with it.

And she really wanted the dress out of the way too.

She smiled, letting her fingers trail across his arms and down his side, brushing over the distinct lack of clothing and several different bruises and it felt like she'd won when his eyes fluttered shut.

"Emma…"

"There's no zipper," she whispered and Killian's whole body froze. His eyes snapped open. "It just...kind of fits."

"Fucking hell," he mumbled, mouth crashing on hers while he tried to tug fabric away and make sure he didn't crush her or the flowers on her wrist.

"Hold on, hold on, hold on."

"Swan."

"You bought me a corsage, you can't ruin it while trying to undress me."

Killian laughed, head falling next to hers on the mattress, but Emma could still make out the hint of a smile on his face when he twisted to look at her. "I wanted to do it right," he said. "There was always...I was at a training facility in Colorado for the U-17 team when I maybe would have gone to prom. If we were going to do this, it only made sense to follow through on some 80's rom com."

"You totally would have gotten asked to prom."

"I would have asked you to prom."

"God, what a line."

He did something absurd with his eyebrows, fingers moving again and Emma's mouth dropped open slightly when his hands shifted back in between her legs. "I love you, Emma," Killian said, quiet and determined and she'd have to look up how to preserve flowers eventually.

Maybe after the event in Central Park.

And they'd been living together for months, she'd heard those words more times than she could count, but it didn't really matter because Emma was fairly certain her stomach would always do that swooping thing whenever Killian's voice did that genuine, earnest thing and she put the flowers on the nightstand before they started kissing again.

"I love you too," she said in between kisses and hands and more pillows falling on the floor. They didn't really get that much sleep.