Author's Note: this, I must ashamedly admit, is one of my favourite clichés. The idea of Emma and Mr Knightly being locked in a cupboard would be very amusing but since it would go against all propriety of the regency era I thought to do another modern spin.

"Franklin Weston Churchill, you will let us out right now or help me god I shall make Jack the Ripper look like an angel," Emma screeched at the locked door.

"Sorry Emmy, but it's for your own good," Frank said cheerfully from the other side of the door.

"How is locking me in a cupboard with him is for my own good?" Emma hissed.

"Standing right here," George said beside her.

"Don't be mad Emma, but-"

"-The two of you need to resolve your problems and stop arguing. You're driving the whole village mad with your bickering and the sooner you're friends again the sooner we can all get on with our lives," Jane piped up interrupting Harriet.

Emma and George shared a look of disbelieve. Jane Fairfax was generally very shy and quiet in comparison of the other teenagers in Highbury. Even Harriet Smith (who they can hear giggling on the other side, the traitor.) who was shy and timid was more outgoing than Jane Fairfax. Then again the relationship between Frank and Jane (that has only been revealed to the world) might have made her a lot more confident than they'd anticipated.

"We're not arguing," Emma said weakly.

"No you're not talking to each other which is worse because no one can have fun with you two creating tension in the room," Frank said in a rather serious tone that was nothing like Frank at all. "Nasty tension and sexual tension." And normal Frank is back again.

"There is absolutely no sexual tension between us," George said through gritted teeth. He despised Frank for strolling in with no care in the world and sweeping Emma off her feet only to dump her for Jane and have everyone forgiving him for all his crimes against Emma and Jane. And the little git has the nerve to announce to everyone that there was sexual tension between George and the girl he has been in love with since primary school but knows he'll never have a chance because she thinks of him as a brother. "You're making things up. Like you did about that hair cut."

"I did get a haircut!" Frank protested.

"You went all the way to London to get a haircut?" George said sceptically.

"George you went all the way to London to get your hair cut," Emma pointed out coldly.

"Well...our local hairdresser is Miss Bates," George mumbled. He felt like a hypocrite, the reason he and Emma aren't speaking right now (the tenth time this year) was because he told her off for bad mouthing Miss Bates. "You know what she's like..."

If it wasn't so dark he would see Emma raise an eyebrow at him and smirk that infuriating knowing smile. He wasn't as saintly as he pretended to be. He was not the holy head boy, he was just as bad as she was...he can practically hear her singing her thoughts.

"Hey, what's wrong with my aunt?" Jane demanded from the other side of the door.

"Nothing!" George and Emma said quickly in unison.

"Hmm..."

They sat there in the dark stuffy cramped cupboard in silence. If Frank, Jane, and Harriet were going to sit on the other side sniggering at them then they were definitely not going to get what they wanted. Emma would never give anyone what they wanted and George didn't want to give Frank any satisfaction. They could hear Frank grumble on the other side and Jane mutter something soothing while Harriet hummed happily. This was going to be a very long night, they were not going to let Emma and George out until they resolved their issues, and they weren't going to say a word until the others let them out. One of them was bound to give in and knowing how stubborn Emma is in comparison to Frank (they were equally impatient.) it was going to be Frank, Jane and Harriet that'll give in first.

Until then George was stuck in a dark stuffy cramped cupboard where he can feel Emma's shoulder, arm, and leg against his. It was radiating heat and George had never felt so hot before. Not even when he was in Malta for the summer holidays. Her musky perfume and fruity shampoo were clashing in his nose and making him a little dizzy. He could also practically feel as well hear every breath she took and it was both soothing and driving him insane.

He jumped when she suddenly leaned on him and whispered into his ear. "They're after a show," her breath was hot against his ear and he couldn't help but shudder. "I think we should give them one."

"What do you mean?" he murmured.

She pulled away and he swears he could see a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Mmm..." she moaned loudly. "Mm...Mmm...Mmm..." she made a strange smacking noise with her lips and gasped loudly. "Oh! Oh...yes...right there...oh...oh...oh George!" good God! His mouth fell open as he watched Emma groan and moan his name. Was she...?

If this was how she was like while just faking it then he could imagine vividly what she would be like in reality...too vividly. She was out to kill him. That was the only explanation.

"Play along," Emma hissed as she elbowed him.

"Neugh!" George groaned half in pain and half in...Well more pain. "Emma!"

"You like me doing that don't you?" Emma said huskily.

No. He hated that elbow, it was too pointy and sharp and she always used it when wrestling him for the remote or pushing him away from the last jammy dodger. But then yes...because he really liked the voice she was using...she's an evil minx. Evil.

"Mmm...Yes," George moaned playing along. "Oh Emma..."

The door was suddenly wrenched open by Frank who looked eager to see what they were doing. His face instantly fell in disappointment when he realised the pair of them were just sitting next to each other. Jane and Harriet were hovering behind him with horrified looks that immediately melted into looks of relief. The sight was so comical that George couldn't help but laugh right into Frank's face.

Emma was laughing hysterically beside him. She turned to muffle her laughter into his shoulder as her hands clung to his arm to keep herself sitting upright.

"The pair of you are terrible!" Frank grumbled before storming off.

"The two of you are far too devious for your own good," Jane said shaking her head disapprovingly before following her boyfriend out.

"Erm...ah...oh...well...I better go!" a blushing Harriet stammered before running out.

Eventually their laughter died down and they sat contently in the cupboard together. Emma was humming to herself quietly as she nestled her head into his shoulder. He could feel her smile against his shoulder, it was her biggest and brightest smile, he can tell. He knows all her smiles by heart.

"We should go," George said finally, "your father will be worried if you're not home soon."

"Yeah..."

He managed to pull away from Emma enough to stand up. He turned to her and held out a hand for her. "Are we friends again?" Emma asked as she took his hand.

He considered her question. They had never stopped being friends; they just weren't speaking to each other because of their prides. They would always be friends. He could be her friend for the rest of their lives. But was that what he really wanted? He could stand aside and her watch her eventually fall in love one day or he could step up and tell her how he felt and actually be that man. If he doesn't tell her now then he probably never tell her. he had to get it over and done with, if the worst – her never returning his feelings and refuses to be near him because it's too awkward – happens then he'll have plenty of time to fix it along with his broken heart.

"No, we're not friends," he said. His heart went out to her when her smile fell and she looked so heartbroken and lost. "We're more than friends. Oh, Emma, we could be so much more than friends."

She smiled a different smile, it was somehow bigger and brighter than her usual big and bright smile, it was somehow the most happiest smile she has ever smiled. He had never seen her smile like that before.

The smile was suddenly hidden from him as Emma flung her arms round him and her lips covered his.

Mr Woodhouse was left worrying for his daughter for a good four hours.