This was it. All of his years of hopes and dreams and secret fantasies all led up to this moment. He couldn't believe it was really happening. He, Killian Jones, would be sharing a bed with one Emma Swan. Love of his life and subject of all of his dreams.

Not that she knew any of that.

That he knew of.

But when your best mate plans a bachelor and bachelorette weekend in Vegas, and says going in for a suite would be the most cost effective way to stay, and when room pairings leave you and his sister, the light of your life, the only two singles, to share a room, are you going to complain?

Better yet, are you going to say one word when his fiancée comes to you and asks, "Killian, it's a suite with 4 queen rooms. You and Emma will have to share a bed. That's not going to be a problem, is it?"

No, it bloody well won't be a problem, thank you very much, Snow. I'll forever do anything you ever need if you're the one who orchestrated that little piece of luck.

So looking forward to the next three nights of sharing a room with his golden haired goddess he didn't even care that he was stuck between Dave and Jefferson on the flight, leaving him in the row behind Emma. He could wait.

He would have three days of her curled up by his side.

That would be enough.

But if there were more… If in her sleep she curled herself into him, resting her head on his chest? Letting him hold her?

Well he just might combust.

She'd wake up and wonder why there was no Killian. Just a pile of ashes in the shape of his body.

He tried to maintain his composure while they checked in, looking around and commenting on the over-blown ostentation of the lobby. Asking questions about the pool hours, and what the different restaurants served. He knew he'd catch Emma's ear with the question about the buffet.

She couldn't resist a buffet. He'd eat at Souplantation for the rest of his life just to make her happy. Because it made her happy.

Bag in hand, he offered to grab hers too, as she wanted to make a detour to the shop to grab a few items she'd already realized she'd forgotten.

"Let me get that for you, love. I'll make sure it gets to our room."

She smiled. Our room. I could say that for the rest of my life, too.

He headed toward the room Dave pointed him to. "That's your room, Killian. Yours and Emma's."

His head spun. I wonder which side of the bed she likes? She can have either for all I bloody well care. I'll learn to sleep on the other. Maybe she likes the middle, and I'll have no choice but to curl up around her as she tries to push me off the bed. I won't cede space to…

Bloody hell. That bastard.

He walked in the door expecting to see his heaven on Earth for the next three days, only to see two, very generously sized queen beds. It was a double queen room. There were two bloody beds.

And he could bet anything Dave had something to do with that.

She arrived at the room from the shops already laden with bags. So she'd found a few more stores than she originally intended, but she couldn't help but think if she were finally going to be spending three whole days with Killian Jones, would it really hurt to look extra cute? There went some of her disposable cash. New bikini. New dress. New shoes. New maybe shorter than short sleep shorts and tank top?

She'd had to hide that purchase from Snow's prying eyes, already knowing how much her soon-to-be sister-in-law was hinting at what could happen with her and Killian sharing a bed this weekend.

Oh yes, that had ALL been Snow's idea.

But when your soon-to-be sister-in-law thinks that you'd be just perfect with your brother's best friend, the one you've had a crush on since you met him so long ago, you don't protest too much against any of her plans. She can arrange for you to share a queen sized room with him and hint all she wants.

So when the man in question is scowling on the sofa of the living room, flipping through the TV channels as though the choices are particularly offensive, barely looks up to nod you in the right direction and simply says, "that one, love." You get a little nervous. Does he have a problem sharing a room? Was he okay with it until the reality sunk in?

Oh god, how many nights had she spent imagining this? Curling up into him, running her fingers through the hair of his chest (oh, because she was well familiar with the just right dusting of dark curls she'd seen peaking out of his unbuttoned shirts over the years.) Maybe he'd hold her closer. Maybe in their sleep their legs would become tangled. Maybe, just maybe, upon waking up with her in his arms, he'd realize that everything he needed was right there, and finally, he'd look down and kiss her. Would that be too much to ask of the universe?

Apparently it was.

Fucking Dave…

Two beds. Of course it was the first thing she saw. And she knew just who was responsible. For all that her future sister-in-law wanted her to be with Killian, she saw her brother's eyes narrow every time the pairing was mentioned. She could hear the muttering under his breath about "not good enough." She loved her overprotective brother, but really. This was Killian. The man liked to pretend he was sex on legs and flirt with every woman around, but they all knew, Dave best of all, it was bravado and swagger. Killian Jones was a one woman man.

And she wanted to be that woman.

But maybe it wasn't going to happen this weekend.

He barely made it through dinner and drinks. The club just about broke him. Watching other men ogle the woman he so desperately wanted to be his. At least now at the Blackjack table, their party filling in all of the seats while Snow, Ruby and Belle stood behind, he only had to deal with Dave sitting between them. He wanted nothing more than to lean over and tease her every time she lost, or better yet, congratulate her every time she won. She was a bloody marvel, and had wiped the table clean from the looks of the stack of chips in front of her.

But he'd hit his quota of Vegas for the night. He was ready to retire, even if it didn't mean curling up with Emma in his arms. He looked over at the rest of the group, all laughing and smiling, having the time of their lives. All but one. Even with the nice booty in front of her, she looked miserable. He figured. He'd known Emma since middle school. He knew her well. And he knew forced merriment and a city where people liked to forget that their actions wouldn't follow them, would not be her thing. He took a chance.

"Sorry to be the first to fall, but jet lag. I'm going to retire for the evening."

His roommate, his light, his angel, popped up from the table, shoving her chips in her purse.

"I'll go with you. That way I won't wake you up coming in later, and I can get up early to get a shady spot at the pool."

Finally, one stroke of luck. He saw Dave eyeing the pair of them, but what could he say without looking ridiculous. "Keep your hands off my sister?"

They said their goodnights, and made their way through the serpentine paths of the casino floor in search of the elevator banks. He played with the chips in his pocket, as Emma fiddled with the clasp of her purse. He could tell she was nervous. He could understand it if they were both facing climbing into bed together for the first time. But separate beds awaited them, and what did she have to be nervous about?

He went into the bathroom to change and found the trappings of Emma spread all over the counter. The curling iron, makeup, her perfume. She didn't need any of it. Not one bit. His swan was just as beautiful to him fresh faced, hair in a bun, right after a run as she was right now. He emerged, ready to find her still dressed to the nines (he'd really appreciated her tight dress and heels) to find her already in her sleep clothes, unpacking the rest of her bag. Was she trying to kill him? The silk shorts and tank left so little to the imagination that he wasn't sure how he'd explain himself unless he climbed directly under the covers immediately. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200.

He tried to smile as she shot past him into the restroom. The toilet flushed. The water ran. Jars were clinked on the stone counter. More water. More clinking. He was listening to her nightly routine. One he wouldn't mind being a part of his soundtrack forever. When the door opened and she exited, clean from the heavy makeup. He couldn't help himself. It's now or never, Jones.

Maybe a joke about how bitterly disappointed she must be to find she'd have a great big hotel bed all to herself? Yes, that would do the trick.

"I know you wanted to have a cuddle, Swan. Not my fault, you can blame your brother for this one I think."

"I blame Dave for everything."

Wait, what? She wasn't denying it. What should he say now?

"Just because there ARE two beds, doesn't mean we have to USE two beds." Swagger, Jones, use your swagger. His eyebrow raised. His lip curled. Yes, that's the tone of voice. Just right.

"I don't know, Jones, are you sure you could handle it?"

Oh, God. She's taking the bait. Be cool. Be cool.

"Perhaps you're the one who couldn't handle it, love."

Here she is, sliding into my bed. There's a perfectly good bed right there, but she's choosing to get into mine. This cannot be happening.

Snapping himself out of his thoughts, he lifted up the covers and patted the sheet right at his side. Internally he was a mess of emotion.

She was right, he couldn't handle it.

She didn't need to know that.

It really is now or never, Jones. She's come this far, you take it the rest of the way, mate.

"I'm not really tired, Killian."

"Neither am I, love."

"TV?"

"I have a better idea." He tucked his thumb under her chin and lifted her face to his, eyes searching for a sign she knew what was to come next. The slight nod of her head gave him the permission he needed, and he dropped his lips to hers, finally, finding out that reality could be so much better than anything he'd ever imagined.

They were both startled awake the next morning by Dave banging on the door. He laughed as he could hear her muttering "fucking Dave" under her breath as violently as he himself wanted to shout it at the man. But when they didn't make any effort to move, or even acknowledge his presence on the other side of the door, he barged into the room in full protective brother mode.

"I got you the fucking room with two beds so this wouldn't happen." he shouted upon finding them fully intertwined, sheets crumpled between them.

"I KNEW IT." They heard from the other room before they could even respond. It was Snow, who'd entered and grabbed her fiancé to drag him back into the living room. "I knew someone had tampered with the reservation."

"Fucking Dave." He finally said, as they both laughed. "Should we say something to him about staying out of our lives?"

The head curled into the crook of his shoulder moved gently back and forth as her lips explored his naked skin.

"No, I think Snow will take care of that for us. She really, really, REALLY doesn't like her plans being changed. Besides," she said as her lips moved up his neck, finally meeting his, "I have plans for you today, and they do not involve spending any time with my brother."

I can absolutely deal with that he thought, as he momentarily caught a glimpse of the bed that would never, ever, ever be used.