Summary: Emma hadn't meant anything by the statement, but now the images wouldn't leave her head. Of them. Together.

Characters: Emma, August

Genre: Romance/Drama

Pairing: Emma/August

Rating: T

Notes: Won't be able to watch Once tomorrow, so I couldn't help but write something sorta light and fluffy. Set post-'The Stranger', but pre-finale. Drabble.

Handy

DivineMist

October 7, 2012

The first few days after their little trek into the woods, were awkward to say the least.

Emma had avoided August at all cost, but in a town as small as Storybrooke it was inevitable that they were going to run into each other. Plus, he already knew her schedule and where she worked, so if a confrontation was in order August would have her cornered. But it seemed he had the same idea to try to avoid her also, though for some reason, the thought disappointed her.

Surprisingly enough, she was the one who broke their brief withdraw from each other. Commenting on his new line of work, while taking a seat next to him at Granny's.

"So. I hear you're helping Marco in his garage."

Emma watched with interest as he froze in his seat and waited eagerly for him to reply. August never was one to look a gift horse in the mouth and responded to her olive branch with an intense stare.

"Yeah." He shrugged, "I've always been good at fixing things."

She raised an eyebrow, a small smirk residing on her mouth as she rested her hands on the table, trying to avoid his supplicant eyes.

"For a writer you seem to be pretty...handy."

August's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline, a jarred look on his features. Emma frowned, trying to figure out his peculiar reaction towards her words. All she said was that he was pretty...Oh. Oh.

Realization dawned and Emma fought the flush that was creeping up her cheeks, trying not to betray how embarrassed she actually was. A warmth started to grow in the pit of her stomach as a wave of light-headedness hit and she clenched her hands together.

A moment of tension flew by as a whole new type of awkwardness settled upon the two.

Emma forced herself to stay sitting, her sense of flight going off like a siren as all the emotions and thoughts twisted together in her head. Of August and her. Her and August. Together.

No. No, no, no. He's a friend, nothing more.

But a current image of August pinning her against a wall wouldn't leave her mind.

She was pressed up against a wall, the coolness of it doing nothing to calm the warmth that came from his breath washing over her. Craning her head, she arched closer as his lips attached themselves to the tender skin, stubble tickling her neck as he kissed his way down to her collarbone. Fingers clutched into his back, she breathed in the leather and woods scent that radiated off him, while feeling the weight of a hand travel up her body until it cradled a cheek. The other wrapped tight around her back, anchoring her to him.

Hair tousled, face flushed and eyes closed, Emma felt as he slowly pulled away before his lips hovered over her own. Slight puffs of air cascading over her face.

"August," she whispered as he paused. He inched his way forward and she ached to just push forward and claim those lips as hers.

"Emma..."

"Emma?"

She flinched, startled at his voice right next to her ear. But it was the heavy hand that rested on her shoulder that brought her back from the vivid fantasy.

Swallowing, Emma shook her head and abruptly stood up. Not wanting to see the worry in August eyes. She didn't want him to see how badly the statement had affected her, how she was reacting to him now.

His hand slowly dropped, and she quickly threw him a glance. Clearing her throat, she spoke, though slightly breathless.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow?"

Emma could see him nod out of the corner of her eye.

"Sure, of course."

Silently thanking him, she watched as he gave her a tiny smile before walking away from the table and out the door into the cool air. Taking a deep breath, Emma walked, having to get away from August, put distance between them after previous events. Her mind was still a mess, the new emotions and thoughts creating an inner turmoil.

Dealing with wild theories and thoughts of fairytale characters were one thing, but this, this was something completely different altogether. Emma sighed, and stuffed her hands into her pockets. Who knew a simple comment could stir up so much trouble.