Author's Note: Don't mind me; I'm just here for the drinks. Enjoy this random little bit. I couldn't help myself.

a teaspoon of patience [never hurt nobody]

"Remind me again why you refuse to use the toilet?" she asked when he meandered into the kitchen, hair flopping deliciously over his forehead and socks covering his feet.

"I've told you ten bloody times now, Swan."

"Yeah, but I keep forgetting." In actuality, her mother was on the phone in complete disbelief that her daughter was telling the truth: that the menacing pirate of all the seven seas preferred to go outside – in the yard, for goodness' sake – to do his business.

"It's too bloody loud!" he cried incredulously at her as he rifled into the fridge, forgetting himself. "I'd sooner think it capable of summoning the Kraken from the depths of the ocean than believe it to be a valuable piece of plumbing."

She hid her laughter in her hand and heard her mother's loud chortling coming through the receiver.

"And now you're laughing at me," he said, petulant now, slamming the fridge shut. "And don't think I haven't realized your mum is on the other side of your blasted talking phone."

"Got me, Mr. 21st Century."

His face brightened slightly at what he must have thought a sincere compliment, but she just couldn't resist pulling the rug from that particular notion. Besides, her mother was still on the other line, and it was the perfect setting for a public shaming. "Keep smilin', buddy, but I was also there when you squirted toothpaste in your eye."

His expression from earlier quickly evaporated, the tips of his ears going red, and she vaguely wondered if she'd overstepped. Then realized she didn't care. She loved the man in all of his beguiling innocence of the world around him, but would take advantage of that lack of knowledge every chance she got and would rather be caught dead than admit how adorable he was in those precious seconds of confusion and bewilderment.

He, on the other hand, was doing a rather convincing job of acting miffed at her teasing.

"You know what, Swan? I think I'll be sleeping on the couch tonight." His voice was a near-growl, and the dim lighting of the room hooded his eyes so she wasn't exactly sure how serious he was.

"Good riddance. You snore anyway."

It wasn't true, but she couldn't just walk away from an opening like that. It wasn't often he left himself vulnerable to embarrassment, and she'd offer him no quarter – she even said the last word in her mind in his accent, and she barely kept that smile from licking across her face because God, that beautiful man is rubbing off on me in the most delectable of ways.

Unfortunately for her, the fearsome pirate from the stuff of nightmares stalking angrily up the stairs shook her mind from out of the gutter. A slam crashed through the house moments later, and she grinned despite herself at what she counted as a victory.

He wasn't actually hurt. Was he?

Nah.

"Looks like I'm in the dog house. Again," she sighed, sarcastically pathetic. "Mind if I come over and help cook as a preventative measure for when he poisons my hot chocolate stash in revenge?"

Her mother laughed lightly, seemingly recovered from her previous guffawing. "Oh, Emma, you know we'd love to have you, but you shouldn't tease him like that."

"I can't help it. Poor man was up half the night wondering at the sprinklers," she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Would've been nice to get several hours of uninterrupted sleep, but no. Stupid pirate had to wake me up and have me explain the physics behind 'such a bloody brilliant invention' at 3 in the morning. He deserves more than a little teasing, trust me."

Snow sighed, long and drawn out, before a shrieking wail flooded through the speaker, loud enough that Emma had to pull the phone away from her ear. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, Neal just woke up. I have to go, Emma."

"All right. I'll see you in a bit."

"Go make nice with the vengeful pirate first, then come over and babysit. I love you, but you're not coming anywhere near the lasagna."

It was Emma's turn to chuckle softly. "Mighty fine by me, Mom. Bye."

Then the line went dead, and she gathered a supple amount of courage – and a small glass of rum as a peace offering – to face the angry man holed up in the bedroom.

She wasn't all that sorry, and he knew it, and sent her away shamefaced and feeling more than a twinge of remorse before finally accepting his anger and spending the remainder of the afternoon with a 3-month-old to give him space to cool off.

When nighttime fell and she collapsed in their bed – alone – she genuinely felt bad, and knew what it would take to get him to quit feeling sorry for himself.

So she crept into the living room at midnight to find him awake and staring at the ceiling – the be-damned stubbornness of that man would be the death of her, she just knew it – and invited him in a most irresistible fashion back to their bed.

Needless to say, he had little choice in the matter – not when she wanted to show him with her lips just how apologetic she actually was.

He gave in – of bloody course he did – breathless and dizzy and very, very, very much in love with her.

She was right. As usual.