A/N: Okay, I have been writing this chapter for about a day and a half straight. My brain hurts. But you'll all be glad to know that it is…an interesting one, to say the least. It's a long one, too. So, sit back and enjoy!

No pants were seriously harmed in the making of this chapter.

"Care for a drink, dearie?"

Emma's serene concentration on Henry broke as Gold dared to set a mug of hot chocolate on the tabletop directly in front of her. It was overflowing with frothy white cream, a drop of it dribbling down the side of the cup and begging to be licked.

The kid had been explaining how the mechanic was really the mouse from Cinderella, Gus-Gus. Personally, she had always remembered Gus as the chubby mouse with the cute little cap that kept getting in trouble with the evil cat, Lucifer. Next Henry would be informing her that the doves were cursed too and were capable of conversing with Snow White.

And now there was an offering of hot cocoa from a magical man that seemed desperate to win her affection tonight.

She stared down through a hole in the cream to the foamy chocolate and wondered if she'd need to stick her head under the kitchen faucet. Or was it spiked with something else?

"No, thank you," she firmly declined, pushing the mug away with the tip of her finger. Henry shrugged and dipped his finger into the whipped cream and licked it off. She counted the seconds. Maybe it wasn't loaded with hot sauce, after all. "Still trying to impress me?"

Gold smoothed a hand down the length of his impeccable suit, guiding her attention with it.

"You looked rather impressed in the kitchen," he reminded her.

Heat scorched her neck and cheeks. Damn it, now her eyes were betraying her as they roved over all the places her fingers had touched his body. They lingered longest above his belt. And he let her look.

Henry, however, had forgotten the cocoa temporarily. There was that bright gleam in his eyes that always appeared whenever he was curious about something.

"What does he mean? You two were alone in the kitchen?" His eyebrows shot up toward his hair, which was quickly replaced with a grossed-out look when imagining his mom being romantically involved with someone, let alone the town's most powerful resident. At least we'll never be poor. Think positive, Emma.

Gold calmly drummed his fingers over his cane and seemed quite proud of himself.

"Ah, yes. Your mother is very fond of my—"

"Chocolate chip cookie recipe," Emma hurried to intercept Gold. It was the first thing that hopped into her mind. Whatever he'd been about to say, that obviously wasn't it. His mouth was left awkwardly hanging open while Henry studied her dubiously. "Mary Margaret and I wanted to bake cookies and Mr. Gold impressed me with his tip of….adding in twice the chocolate chips."

One thing Emma had learned about Gold: he was a man who knew how to play his cards.

"I'll be sure to make the next batch extra sweet for you, Emma. Perhaps I can offer you a demonstration." His body shifted smoothly, his mannerisms reeking of if-you-know-what-I-mean.

"I think I can use my imagination," she muttered, trying to avert her gaze from Gold. It didn't work out well-he demanded to be the center of attention without even raising his voice. A chill skittered across her skin as he visibly perked up and made an excited 'ooh', his lips rounding.

"Penny for your thoughts, Sheriff." No way. The last thing she wanted to do was spill her inner thoughts in front of Henry.

What she was thinking involved the way in which Gold proved unpredictable time and again. She was thinking how there was a good chance he was trying to seduce her and the kiss at midnight would be the match to the gasoline. She was thinking that he was the best-dressed person in this diner and that her wall may have thinned in the hour or so that she'd been here.

Not that she would tell him any of that.

"Is there anything you want?" Besides my lips, she added in her head.

Gold made a show of considering it, but Emma doubted his desires hadn't already been added to his little To-Do list. Gold had Plan A through Plan R, for crying out loud.

"I'll let you know," he silkily assured her. It sounded like a dark promise. Note to self: do not get caught in the kitchen with Gold.

He turned around to leave and nearly crashed into someone. It was Paige's—no, Grace's—false father. According to Henry, he was one of the Three Little Pigs who avoided Red like the plague. Apparently, he and his brothers also ran the butcher shop. As diabolical as Regina was, there was just something not right about that picture.

The guy recognized the person he almost took down and paled.

"Forgive me, please! I wasn't looking where I was going!" Gold dusted off his suit and sniveled down at the heavyset man. Great, Emma thought in exasperation. Now he'll probably hole up in his house and wait for Gold to come blow it down.

"Clearly," Gold retorted icily. Grace gave a shy smile to Gold as she poked her head out from behind her father. However, her eyes specifically sought out Henry. She waved, a light pink color rising to her cheeks.

"Hello, Henry," she called out to him sweetly. He returned the smile easily. "Do you want to play a game of hide-and-seek later? I've gotten some of the other kids to join."

"Sure," Henry agreed enthusiastically. His eyes switched over to Emma, who was watching him carefully. "I mean…if it's okay with my mom."

Beneath the table, his foot nudged her leg. She rolled her eyes. Kids would be kids.

"Why not? There's no harm in popping up in places where adults least expect it, I guess." So long as that place does not include the kitchen. Both Grace and Henry beamed at the idea of their planned game. Grace was always the best seeker.

"Hey, Grace," Henry called out as she and her false father began to hurry away. She turned back and noticed the cup of cocoa. Henry was holding it out in offering. "Here. You can have this. It even has little marshmallows."

Henry scooted to the end of his seat and stretched the cup toward her. Gold observed their cute moment with growing unease.

As Grace hurried over to accept the drink, his cane happened to lie in her path and she tripped, flying forward into Henry. The mug of cocoa seemed to explode in a burst of chocolate. It splattered over Grace's dress. It was a miracle that only a splash or two had fallen on Henry's coat and even more of a miracle that Grace hadn't been terribly burned by the hot drink.

Immediately, Red rushed over with a towel while her father knelt to check Grace over. He brushed a hand over the stains, but it was no use. Her dress was at a loss.

"Grace? Are you alright?" The little girl spread her arms apart from her sides and her face twisted unhappily at the sight of her ruined dress. Bravely, she forced a smile and nodded.

"I'm fine, really," she insisted. Her father continued trying to rub the chocolate out with the towel to no avail. He frowned. "It was just an accident."

She didn't dare meet Gold's eyes. Henry apologized to her, but Grace shook it off. An accident, she repeated with her lip trembling. Emma's suspicious gaze switched to Gold, who was inspecting the end of his cane. He met her eyes and shrugged.

"I must be unbalanced today. Perhaps I've had one drink too many," he said passively. He turned and departed into the crowd, ignoring Grace's father's murmurs of having to go home to change clothes.

Emma watched Gold's retreating back until it disappeared. That was no accident. With Gold, there's never any such thing as an accident.

…..

"She seems nice," Emma hinted to Henry a few minutes after Grace had left to change her dress. Henry was clearly disheartened by that catastrophe. All he did was sullenly lift one shoulder in response.

"She's in my class," he explained, as if that summed it up. Child-logic. "I hope she's not mad about the cocoa."

He chewed on the inside of his cheek, fretting. Emma leaned over the table and patted his hand.

"I'm sure she'll get over it. I think she likes you."

From her teasing tone, Henry realized she wasn't just talking about the standard like that qualified for friends. She meant like as in boyfriend/girlfriend. Hopefully not in the same way Regina liked Graham. Maybe it was more of the way Snow liked Charming.

Henry gave her a look of sheer incredulity.

"She's supposed to be like…" Henry paused as he thought about it, even using his fingers to keep count. Then he made a face that screamed eww. "Thirty-eight. That's old."

The repercussions of this twenty-eight year-long curse never failed to shock her. It wasn't every day you ended up being the same age as your parents. Emma sunk her head into her hand. It was amazing that Henry even stopped to consider these details.

"Besides," he continued. "All she did was ask me to play hide-and-seek. She didn't ask me to be her future husband." Emma held up a hand to stop him.

"First of all, 38 may seem old to you, but it isn't for me. At least, not really. Second of all, asking a boy to play hide-and-seek is pretty much the equivalent of asking him to be your Valentine. Trust me, I've been there."

Henry's lips parted in surprise.

"You mean, you've been there in asking a boy to play hide-and-seek? Or you asked him to be your Valentine?"

Emma reluctantly thought back to her childhood. Those kinds of activities stopped when she was about nine and she began to realize how the world worked.

"Both," she admitted. "I just hope you're past the MASH stage where you think you can predict the size of your house, spouse, and number of children on a piece of paper. When I did it, I was supposedly going to marry George Clooney, be a millionaire, live in a mansion, and have ten kids. I gave up hope of that at thirteen."

Henry nodded thoughtfully. With her luck, he'd introduce it to Grace.

"Does that mean you'll say no if I want to send an e-mail to Angelina Jolie and ask her to play hide-and-seek with me? She can bring her ten kids."

Emma sighed and shook her head wistfully. It is way too early in my motherhood lessons to be dealing with relationship drama.

…..

From the time Grace returned in a clean lavender dress, the girl practically stuck to Henry's side like glue. It was obvious that she had a bit of a crush on the boy…and Henry didn't seem too hesitant to return her smiles and laughs.

Was this what it all came down to? Losing this challenge to children? How embarrassing would that be? Red would likely laugh him out of the diner before crying into a towel herself.

But then again, they were just children. And children weren't usually interested in kissing, were they?

Even Bae had not shared any interest in women, though he had been fond of that mute maid. And there had always been that girl…what was her name? Ah, yes. Morraine. The little girl who raved on and on about the way he'd stopped the Ogre War. Squealing like a fan-girl, practically.

Come to think of it, Grace and Henry were looking at each other the same way Bae and Morraine had often looked at each other. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard the musical chime of wedding bells.

He was fond of children…but he would rather destroy his only good leg before swallowing his pride and losing this challenge to two childhood sweethearts.

But how to go about distracting them from each other's company? What did children like? Candy. Children liked candy, especially the confectioner's chocolate found around the holidays.

And children got stomachaches from candy. If Grace got a stomachache, then her father would have to bring her home. Again.

It was perfect. Or at least perfect enough for the occasion.

Of course, he needed to find some candy first. Mr. Clark's store was only a couple stores down from the diner. Surely, the allergenic dwarf wouldn't miss a few shelves of Apollo bars.

As he approached the diner's door, Red glanced up from serving refills and that awful smirk flashed like a neon sign.

"Leaving so soon?" Did she honestly believe he would give up so early? He knew she would be planning something to strike against him soon. He swiveled toward her and sent her a patronizing look.

"You might want to drag your tail from between your legs. I'll be back before you begin to miss me," he promised. Red didn't look happy to hear it. She tilted her head inquiringly.

"Where exactly are you going?" To freshen my breath for Emma, he thought about saying. Perhaps he should pick up some Tic-Tacs, just in case. And some new cologne.

"To find an unoccupied bathroom." Red froze in her spot, a mug hooked on her finger. Turning around, she spotted Snow sitting sullen and alone at the bar while the bathroom door remained closed. I told her Charming would be a while.

The diner's bell rang as he stepped through it. For a brief moment, he glanced over his shoulder and his eyes connected with Emma's green ones. He couldn't tell if she was relieved or disappointed as she watched him walk out. Don't worry, Emma-dear. I am far from done impressing you tonight.

And just as the door closed behind him, a high-pitched scream erupted through the diner. It belonged to Regina. The eensie-weensie spider crawled down Regina's shirt…

Hopefully, Red caught it on tape.

….

It was quite easy to get into Mr. Clark's store in the dead of the night. The idiot dwarf left a spare key under a fist-sized rock right next to the door. No wonder Hansel and Gretel never got caught stealing before Emma came to town.

By the time he returned to the diner, he had a plastic bag full of Apollo bars swinging on the crook of his arm. The party was in full-swing—an area of the diner had been solely devoted to dancing. Red was leaning by the bar and showing a video to Snow and Cinderella.

"No, wait! Keep watching! See, that's when Dopey dropped the spider down and…there she goes dancing! Look how much she wiggles! People thought she was mimicking MC Hammer when 'Can't Touch This' came on!"

The girls were red-faced, bursting into laughter. Hysterical tears streamed down Snow's cheeks as Red replayed it again. Abruptly, he laid the plastic bag down on a stool, catching their attention.

The smiles slipped away, replaced with obvious discontent. Cinderella mumbled something about her feet aching and wanting Prince Thomas to rub them even though he was holding their baby. Snow averted her gaze and slowly slid away from the bar, making a beeline for Emma.

"Funny how that always happens," he muttered. Red didn't bother to argue that point—no one could possibly clear a room faster than Rumpelstiltskin. She peered down into the bag and then gave him an incredulous look.

"You went out…to get candy bars?" Red blinked at the assortment of chocolates, as if expecting it to be a mirage. Either that or she was thinking he had a spectacular sweet tooth. And foolishly hoping he would share. He scooted the plastic bag closer to his side. "I thought you were going to the bathroom!"

"Perhaps I was," he retorted. "The difference between you and me is that I don't have to wait for a public bathroom. I can relieve myself wherever I like. In your language, I'm marking my territory."

Red scrunched her nose distastefully.

"Happens to me once a month, too," she blurted out. Then her face turned red. "And I said that aloud. That's the last thing I expected to have in common with you."

All he knew was that she'd better stay away from his house during a full moon. It was bad enough he had to listen to Pongo terrorizing Miss Ginger's yard next door.

"What is that?" Red was leaning over again and she had spotted something else in the bag. Oh, yes. His other investment.

Carefully, he pulled the object out so Red could examine it. It was a child's toy, but it fascinated him for some odd reason. It was a plastic robot claw and when you pulled the lever at the bottom, the claw snapped open. He'd been grabbing the chocolate bars off the shelf with it ever since.

But Red looked at him like he was off his rocker.

"You are more delusional than I thought," she said, snickering.

He snapped the claw open and closed. He tried to pick up a tortilla chip with it, but the chip broke into pieces. Okay, so maybe it needed a little improving.

"Are you always excited by such mundane things?"

He thought back to his time in their world and how gleeful he had been. Granted, most of it had been the madness setting in, but there were delicacies in that world that truly put a smile on his face and a spring in his step. Strawberry tarts, exploding fairies, bungee-jumping off the side of his castle when he was bored…He had been the one to create that sport. Blame it on the madness.

"You'd be surprised what sort of activities excite me, dearie." The look on Red's face suggested she didn't want to know. Good—because that list was rather long.

Just then, Sneezy and Dopey strolled by. Sneezy slowed as he eyed the plastic bag of candy bars and the robot claw in Gold's hand.

"Hey! Is that from my store?" Gold quit snapping the claw.

If he tried to come up with a lie or clever evasion, he sensed Red would throw him under the bus. So, he put on a fierce expression that made Sneezy gulp and take a step back, stumbling into Dopey.

"I'll make up the expenses," he cast off the insinuation.

"But—" He glared down at the sniffling dwarf to silence him. Was he honestly challenging his word? His face brightened as a delicious idea hit him.

"Hey, dwarf. How do you like…escargot?"

Now the two dwarfs were nearly trembling in their caps. Gold deliberately snapped the claw open in Sneezy's face. He did the same in Dopey's face, waving the toy like a wand. The dwarfs exchanged frightened looks and dashed off.

"You need to stop threatening every single person who questions you," Red said, not amused. He pointed the toy at her, but she angled it away from her face.

"I don't threaten you, do I?" The corners of Red's lips lifted a little. Truthfully, she was one of the few who did not seem terribly intimidated by him. If he didn't know any better, he would claim she was fond of his company.

It must be the champagne.

"You're getting better at holding your tongue," she admitted. She tapped a nail against the robot claw. "So, what exactly are you going to do with all those candy bars? Are you planning on making everyone jealous by eating them one by one?"

"As entertaining as that would be…no," he said. He ruffled the bag and scanned the crowd for Henry and Grace. A-ha! There they were, at the edge of the dancing crowd. Red followed his gaze and her expression grew wary as she noticed the children. "Children love candy."

Red widened her eyes in disbelief as he slid off the stool.

"You're paranoid that two innocent children are going to steal your kiss so you're bribing them with chocolate?" It sounded like she understood his dilemma well. He thrust the robot claw into her hands.

"Watch my toy."

"Henry." He looked up from Grace to see Mr. Gold—no, Rumpelstiltskin—approaching their table. He frowned thoughtfully. Here he had been getting along with Grace and really started liking her.

What would someone like Rumpelstiltskin want with them? Something to do with Emma? If his mom ever did with Rumpelstiltskin what Snow and Charming said they did alone in the apartment—making tacos—then he would never look at the dealmaker in the same way again. Emma didn't even like tacos.

Then he saw the plastic bag on his arm and he tried to keep his eyes from lighting up and betraying how curious he was. Grace shifted uncomfortably in her seat as Gold stopped at the edge of their table.

"Hi, Mr…uh, Rumpelstiltskin," Henry greeted politely. The infamous name only made Grace's eyes grow wider, but Henry had never been afraid of Mr. Gold. He had never done anything to harm him; he even seemed a little fond of him. Henry just didn't know whether to trust him. "What do you have in the bag?"

Mr. Gold must have been amused by the probing question because he grinned.

"You're more like your mother than you know, Henry. Always curious," he said. Henry took that as a compliment. "I had some extra Apollo bars in my shop. I'm afraid there's too many for an old man like me to eat on my own. Perhaps you two could make good use of them."

Upending the bag, he dumped the contents over the table. Out poured a mountain of chocolate bars, some falling onto their seats. Never had they seen so much candy.

And yet…neither of them reached forward to take one. The seconds ticked by, but all they did was stare at the pile. Why weren't they gobbling it up? Were they so mesmerized by all the candy that a nerve short-circuited inside their brains?

"Well, go on. Take some. They're all yours," he insisted, nudging the pile into the center of the table. Henry kept his hands safely in his lap. What was wrong with these children? "Surely, you two like chocolate?"

Henry's lips twitched. He looked tempted, but he turned his imploring eyes on Gold.

"What's your price?" Like mother like son, like grandmother like grandson.

Never had he made a threatening move in the child's direction. Never had he asked him for anything, but then it was rare if he made deals with children. He feigned hurt, pressing a hand to his chest.

"You honestly think I would ask for something in return?" Henry gave him a serious stare that made him appear far wiser than his ten years. He would take that as a yes. "All I want is for you to enjoy that candy. My stomach can only handle so much these days."

I'll bet if Granny dumped a whole bag of candy on their table, it'd be gone in a matter of minutes. What's the difference between me and her? She's not a sweet old lady by any means.

As if reading his mind, Grace shook her head kindly.

"No, thanks. Both my fathers warned me not to take candy from strangers," she said quietly. He scowled. I'm sure Jefferson meant Regina's candy apples. Drizzling caramel over it does not make it any less poisonous.

"Oh, I'm no stranger. I've been friends with your biological father for a long time. Practically his whole life. For all you know, I'm your godfather."

Grace cringed at that idea. He hoped she wasn't thinking of the Godfather. It must be the cane.

"That's not what he says," she replied. Now he was the curious one. The rumor mill never ceased to amaze him. This ought to be good, he thought with mild interest.

"And what does he say?" Hesitation radiated off Grace's young face and she bit down on her lip. The expectancy and pressure convinced her, for her lips were forming words. He cocked his head to listen to her soft voice.

"He said…you were a strange little man with a skin problem. That you lived alone in a dark castle, dress in leather pants…oh, and you once begged him to get you some ruby slippers."

Jefferson could be such a blabbermouth. After all he'd done for him and all the times he'd made him comfortable in his Dark Castle. And, whoa, skin problems?

"Could you ever picture me wearing…" He lowered his voice for fear of eavesdroppers. No need to have this spread through town. "…ruby slippers?"

Both children leaned over to glance down at his expensive, shined shoes. The laughter bubbled behind their lips. Oh, they thought that was funny, did they?

"Henry, it's about time that dreadful woman…I mean, Miss Swan left you alone," Regina's clipped voice disrupted them. She came over carrying a plate of her special lasagna. The dish was almost empty on the bar—these people wouldn't touch her apples, but they were suckers for her lasagna.

The Mayor stopped dead when she registered his presence and the pile of candy. He smiled calmly, but she gave him a threatening look before bending down to Henry's level. Great—now he was stuck staring at her rear end. What did he ever do to deserve this?

"Henry, what did I tell you about taking food from questionable people?" A rebellious gleam sparked in Henry's eyes. If she wasn't careful, the boy would take one of those bars just to spite her.

"Questionable as in you and your candy apples?" Gold couldn't resist pushing Regina's buttons. It was always a favorite hobby of his. Slowly, she straightened up and turned to face him, her body shielding Henry.

"Are you insinuating something…Gold?"

"I'm not sure. Are you insinuating something by calling me and my candy bars questionable, Your Majesty?" Regina narrowed her eyes in warning. She never liked being mocked.

He ducked his head around her shoulder and snatched up one of the chocolate bars. Peeling back the wrapper, he bit off a chunk of the chocolate. Monkey see, monkey do.

"You two enjoy the chocolate," he said to Henry and Grace. He reveled in Regina's outrage as the children exchanged awed glances and dove for the pile of candy. He was chuckling as he returned to the bar. Apparently, so was Red.

"Here's your claw back," she said as she handed it over. Good—it wasn't broken. And why was she looking at him so smugly? Did she superglue his seat? "So…ruby slippers, huh? Mind if I borrow them sometime?"

Damn that sensitive wolf hearing.

"Hush or I'll make you dance in iron shoes."

So much for holding his tongue. Suddenly, Archie swept over and applied a gentle kiss to Red's cheek. Those two looked as cheery as Snow and Charming. If Charming wasn't manning the bathroom, anyway.

"Oh, hello, Rumpelstiltskin," Archie greeted kindly, tipping his head. He noticed the robot claw and his eyes grew wide behind his glasses. "Hey, I remember those! I used to love those as a kid!"

Before Gold knew it, Archie had taken the robot claw from his hand and used the claw to pick up a flower from a vase and hand it to Red. She blushed as she took it while Gold fought to get his robot claw back.

Kids would be kids.

Ring…ring…ring…Oh, pick up the phone, you good-for-nothing hatter!

Gold mentally grumbled and cursed Jefferson's name as he stood outside the diner and held the phone to his ear. He rubbed his hands together for warmth as the dial tone continued buzzing.

"Welcome to My Estate Is Larger Than Yours, Maine. How may I help you?" Jefferson's arrogant voice filled his ear. Figures he would answer his call in such a rude manner. Hold on…

"Are you an oracle now?" A rough chuckle came over the line.

"See, this world is greatly advanced over ours. They have this thing called Caller ID. It lets me know exactly who's calling. Crazy, huh?" Irritated, he shrugged off Jefferson's spiel about the modern wonders of this world and zoomed into the reason for his call.

"You told your daughter I requested the ruby slippers?"

It was silent on the other end. Surely, Jefferson hadn't forgotten? No, his memory was almost as impressive as his own. Either he was dying with laughter or shaking with guilt. Or torn between the two.

"You were talking to my daughter?" Oh, no. The hatter didn't get to throw around the accusations. Not when he'd spread so many rumors. "What else were you going to do with them? There was only one way to work them and that was to slip them on and click the heels together. It's haunted my dreams for years."

"And I'm a strange little man, am I?" Now there was a hint of laughter again. If he could reach through this phone and wring his neck…

"I never said that," he openly denied. Gold opened his mouth to call him a liar since he all but named his daughter one, but the hatter beat him with words. "Grace misunderstood me. I didn't say you were a strange little man. I said you were a sad, strange little man." Gold's fingers curled around his phone. "Face it—you spent nearly 300 years alone, you giggle like a sheep on helium, and you're not exactly Jack and the Beanstalk material when it comes to height."

"And what is wrong with my leather pants?" He'd been the first to establish that trend, too. He had a handful of ladies swooning over him in the taverns.

"Nothing. You have great taste. Everyone wears leather in the Enchanted Forest for the most part, but no one usually wears it casually here. Except for old rock stars."

"And my skin problems?" Jefferson audibly scoffed into his ear.

"Have you even peered into a mirror during those 300 years?" Okay, maybe his skin was different, but did it have to be qualified as a problem? "There's a cure for that in this world. It's a magic substance called Neutrogena."

This was getting ridiculous. All these insults were driving him raving mad.

"Any more questions?" Jefferson clamored away. He sounded much too satisfied with this Q&A seminar.

"One. Why aren't you joining the festivities?" Every resident of Storybrooke seemed to be inside that diner except Jefferson. He assumed the hatter would be keen on spending time with Grace. Unless he was still afraid of that reunion.

"Because the only thing people concern themselves with at a New Year's party…is which lucky couple with earn the first kiss at midnight."

Jefferson's words struck a nerve in his brain. He knew. Tentatively, Gold glanced up at the house on the hill and imagined Jefferson spying through his telescope.

"Amazing how powerful my telescope can be. It impresses me sometimes. You can't see it right now, but I'm waving from my window. Aren't you going to wave back, old friend?" The last thing he intended to do was be caught waving at no one in particular.

Instead, he snapped his phone shut. A second later, it buzzed. There was a message on his phone. The backlight illuminated the words in the darkness.

How rude, it said with a tiny angry face sporting devil horns. How amusing. Then the phone buzzed a second time. By the way, they call this texting. And he was informative.

"Let me guess: your spinning wheel is summoning you home?"

The voice came from directly behind him, nearly startling him. So, that's how it felt to have someone sneak up on you. Thankfully, it was only Emma. And she was eating one of his chocolate bars.

"Henry had a suspicious amount of candy sitting on his table. Oh, and you paid him off to hand it all to Grace?"

She took out a wad of twenties that he had slipped to Henry. Stepping forward, she stuffed the wad in his suit pocket. There was a tiny spot of chocolate on the corner of her lips that directed his attention. What would she do if he bent his head and licked it away?

"Should I dance now? I promise I'll keep my hat on." Heat rose to Emma's face and she whirled away in astonishment. When she turned back around, the coloring had seeped into her neck. "He looked hungry. I thought I'd share."

Emma munched slowly on the candy, her mouth currently too full to answer. Maybe she was using the candy to distract her mind from the pleasant thoughts circling her mind.

"I thought you never shared anything that belonged to you," she retorted, though not too coldly. It was merely a way of stating a fact.

"The only thing I will never share is my ice cream," he declared. That, and his leather pants. And his closet. And his hairbrush. And his shampoo. Ooh, maybe Emma had a point. He could be a tiny bit possessive.

"Never?"

He stared at her in mild shock. Was that a challenge? Daringly, he inched closer to her, but she didn't draw away. She did stop chewing, though. He pointed to the bar in her hand, half-eaten.

"That was not meant for you, Emma. I have half a mind to ask for a price."

She inclined her blonde head, her hair glowing luminously in the moonlight. She eyed him inquisitively. Probably trying to decide which price he would settle on. Finally, she bit the hook.

"What price is that?"

As quite an observant man, he was aware of numerous details at once. He was aware of how close their bodies had drifted together, even if she didn't realize it. He was aware of how her nose twitched like Samantha on Bewitched when his breath grazed her skin. Above all, he was aware of that tempting chocolate spot which was becoming the bane of his existence.

"Trust me, Emma. If I staked my price, I doubt you could afford it. For you, I'll take it in increments. How about a walk in the moonlight?" Uncertainly, she glanced back at the diner and the party inside. "They'll survive five minutes without you. Your boy has enough candy to keep him satisfied and your mother is drowning her sorrows in her third cup of spiked punch."

Emma switched her focus back to Gold and scrutinized him carefully. Was she planning on frisking him again? Lightly, she nodded in agreement.

"Five minutes." She wiped her mouth on her leather sleeve, ridding it of that chocolate spot. His phone vibrated in his hand. Emma and Rumpel sitting in tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.

One of these days, he was going to pay a visit to that house on the hill and stuff Jefferson into his magical hat. And then burn it.

….

"What's your favorite fairy-tale?" It was a question that came out of the blue as they walked along the dimly-lit street. He offered Emma a sideways look. "Besides your own," she clarified.

In truth, he didn't much care for his own fairy-tale. Grimm had gotten so many details wrong. He'd seen people split in half before and it wasn't pretty. He'd certainly never been that angry. And dancing around a fire singing about his name? Usually those things only happened when he was seriously drunk.

"I'd have to say…Snow White," he revealed. Emma stuffed her hands into her pockets, the wrapper crinkling inside.

"You're just saying that," she accused. He gave her an appalled look.

"No, it's true. Everyone praises the beauty and power of true love's kiss. In the original tale, there was never any such kiss," he said. Emma reacted like this was news to her, so he continued. "As a matter of fact, her life was saved all thanks to a moment of clumsiness. The glass casket was dropped, you see, and the apple, the poisoned bit of apple that had wedged itself in her throat came back up. And Snow White was allowed to live once more. No magical kiss, no…and they lived happily ever after."

Emma was quiet beside him, peering down at her boots. He wondered if he had disturbed her by shattering the beloved Disney illusion to pieces. Needless to say, no one had ever dropped a rock on the Queen.

When she lifted her head, she actually looked…impressed.

"I never knew that," she said honestly. It was sad to think that she had been kept in the dark about her destiny her entire life. "What happened to your true love? Assuming you have one."

His pace slowed on the sidewalk. He wondered when this topic would come up, if ever. That old ache burned inside his heart. Did he dare tell her the truth? Dredge up those old memories and pain?

"Everyone has a true love. She died…a long time ago," he whispered. And now Emma would ask how, wouldn't she? That thirst for answers would not go unquenched. He anticipated it, but it never came.

"I'm sorry," she said instead. She sounded like she meant it. When he met her eyes, he could see they were wide with sympathy. It had been years since someone looked at him like that. It dazed him, just as the light had dazed him when Belle ripped the curtains down.

Suddenly, she shivered. For a moment, he wondered if her common sense was kicking in late about his character, but she was just cold. Taking out her hands, she cupped them to her mouth and blew into them.

"Would you like my gloves?" Emma gazed down pointedly at his bare hands. Her brow furrowed with skepticism.

"But, you don't have—" With a flourish of his wrist, a pair of black leather gloves appeared in his hands. Emma frowned at his use of magic, but accepted the gloves anyway. They fit her nicely. "Impressive."

"Thank you," he gladly reeled in the compliment, even if it wasn't meant to be one. He simply couldn't resist pushing it to the limit. With another wave, a bouquet of flowers materialized.

"Are you practicing to be a magician now? Next you'll be asking me to pick a card, any card," she quipped. Another message came through his phone from the world's biggest Peeping Tom. Jefferson was likely sitting at his window eating popcorn. Stop showing off. Leave that to me. Arrogant madman. "You already gave me a flower, remember?"

His thoughts were pulled away from his phone and he redirected his attention to Emma. Oh, yes. The abandoned rose. This woman could be so difficult to please. Or was she making it hard on purpose?

Taking the flowers back, he wracked his brain for a replacement. A pony? No, Emma didn't seem the dainty horse type. A dress? No, that might be a little creepy. Ooh, he had just the gift.

"Yes, I did. However, I did not give you…" The flowers vanished in exchange for a book. The Brothers' Grimm book of fairy-tales to be exact. "…this." Emma reached out and caressed the golden spirals across the cover. Slowly, she claimed it. "This way, you know I'm telling the truth about Snow White's tale. I should warn you, though. It's rather easy to lose yourself in fairy-tales."

Emma sighed and gestured to the street they were standing on.

"No kidding. Just look at me now. I'm taking a walk in the moonlight with Rumpelstiltskin."

Still, she fingered the cover of the book gently. Cracking it open, she flipped through the golden-trimmed pages. It would give her a chance to recount on some of the childhood experiences she'd lost. Maybe she could even give it to her son.

"You know what my favorite fairy-tale was?" Silently, he waited, not wanting to disrupt this insight she was offering him. "Rapunzel. When I was a little girl, I always wished my hair could grow that long."

Purposely, he took a step behind her to examine the waves of her blonde hair, falling to the middle of her back. He always did fancy a woman that had a wild mane of hair that he could thread his fingers through.

"I'd say you're a quarter of the way there," he said, returning to her side. She eyed him suspiciously.

"Like I'm supposed to believe you were really checking out my hair?" Ooh, she was filled with all sorts of feisty ideas tonight. He liked it. If only he could bring her home.

Clearing his throat, he pointed to the direction from which they came.

"We should head back. The cold does my leg no good," he murmured, rubbing a hand across his thigh. It would be stiff tomorrow. The pain he endured for Emma.

As they turned around, he allowed his eyes to drop along her backside. Truthfully, he had been studying her hair before. This time, he was simply admiring the view.

…..

The Snow White fairy-tale clung to his mind after he and his late night walking partner returned to the diner. He didn't know why it was bothering him so much…until he laid eyes on Archie. Not that he wanted to wake that man up from a sleeping curse.

"Excuse me," he murmured to Emma before making a beeline in the cricket's direction. He was sitting in a booth with Red, telling her some cheerful story about his time as a cricket.

"And it's the most beautiful sound in the world! All those crickets coming together and chirping….and the feeling I used to get when rubbing my legs together to make that noise. I mean, I couldn't do it now because I would look ridiculous. But I would have liked to play a song just for you."

Red gushed at Archie's sweetness, up until the point when Gold slapped his cane down on the table between them. It made her jump and she gave him a seething look. Oh, stop, Red. I'll start crying a river.

"Sorry to disturb your lovely moment…but I have a serious matter to discuss with our dear cricket doctor," he announced.

Red crossed her arms and refused to move. Archie began to frown and appeared a little worried, but Red held up her hand to Gold.

"Take a ticket, then. We're in the middle of a conversation. Really, it's the first moment I've had alone with Jim-Jim all night," she moaned, motioning to Archie with her eyes. Jim-Jim? The nickname stage, was it? Archie reached over and clasped her hands.

"And I wouldn't want to spend this moment with anyone else, Hoodsie Cup," he replied. Gold was inches from gagging. This was worse than the Charmings blocking traffic and proclaiming I will find you!

But these matters were too serious to ignore.

"In that case….I'll just wait," he said.

There was an extra chair near one of the booths and he dragged it over so he could perch at the end of their table. He bobbed his cane between his knees patiently, but they merely stared at him. Red's contorted face demanded for him to go away.

"Oh, don't mind me. Continue with whatever matters were more important than mine. Pretend I'm invisible."

That advice didn't seem to ease them any.

Red pouted her lips as she played with the salt and pepper shakers, clinking them together. Archie coughed into his hand and tried to put some effort into ignoring Gold's searing gaze.

"So…Red….what is it really like being a werewolf here in Storybrooke?" Red actually relaxed her muscles a bit and opened her mouth to answer with a smile.

"Oh, it's—"

"Careful, Hopper," Gold advised. "She likes to mark her territory during that time of the month. Your car, your house, your bed…nothing's sacred."

Archie's face turned a scarlet shade of red—it seemed he was embarrassed for Red's sake. And Red…Red was bristling with anger. Archie carefully settled a hand on her arm to calm her down.

"As I was saying," she growled through her teeth, darting a furious look at Gold. He was happy playing innocent. "The wolf thing isn't so bad now that I can control it. And I love to run for miles—"

"Perhaps you can buy her a chew-toy for your first anniversary. And a fluffy bed for the pups. Six at a time, no doubt," Gold interrupted again. Red slammed her fist on the table. She whipped around in her seat to glare at him.

"Do you mind?" He tapped his cane lightly on the floor and leaned casually back in his seat.

"Nope, I'm quite comfortable right here," he said.

Flustered, Red hastily slid out of the booth, much to Archie's dismay. Gold couldn't help but grin victoriously, even though he knew she'd get her revenge tonight. Hell hath no fury like a werewolf scorned.

"You two enjoy your date," she snapped. Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she stomped away in a whirlwind.

Archie watched her leave with longing, his heart in his eyes. Gold wondered if he had a chance of being his best man at their wedding. Fixing his glasses, he shifted in Gold's direction. Nothing but business.

"Uh…what did you…want to talk about?"

Oh, no. He was using that tone. The tone that was unnecessarily open and encouraging, the one that triggered people to empty their souls onto the table with a fistful of Kleenex. The cricket assumed he was here for advice.

"I'm not here for therapy…Jim-Jim," he mocked. Archie lowered his eyes to the tabletop. "I need to ask you a favor. You're a therapist, skilled with hypnosis. I want you to hypnotize Henry and Grace. Put them to sleep, so to speak."

Archie studied him, obviously speculating about his intentions. The wheels certainly turned in his head, trying to piece the puzzle together. His mouth opened and closed like a fish, no sound coming out.

"Why?"

Did the cricket have to ask so many questions? Couldn't he just…do it? Oh, yes, he was the conscience of the town. Good people could be so annoyingly…good.

"I'm concerned about their sleeping habits. Just look at the circles under their eyes. They are clearly exhausted and deprived of a good night's sleep. Now, do them a favor, yes?"

He found Henry and Grace in the crowd—they were dancing on their seats with candy wrappers at their feet.

"They appear pretty hyper to me," Archie noted. "Does this have anything to do with the bet you're having with Red?" Gold's head whipped around. Red told Archie about their challenge? Or did she not fill him in on the details?

"How much do you know?" Archie weaved his hands together nervously.

"That you and Red have a bet going on. She said I would get the inside scoop at midnight. That's it." Gold sighed in relief. It was just like Red to work Archie in her favor. Well, no, manipulation was his staple, but if he was capable of it then so was she.

"I'll make you a deal. Nothing harmful. You put those two to sleep and I will buy you ten new sweater vests," he bargained. Archie wiped his forehead with his sleeve. He looked torn between shaking on it and rejecting the offer.

"Mr. Gold, I—"

"Twenty," he negotiated. Archie shook his curly head.

"I have enough sweater vests, Mr. Gold. I don't think it'd be right to—" Stubborn cricket. He had to have a price. He leaned forward in his chair, ready to bring out the big guns.

"Tough customer. If you do this for me, I shall…"

Suddenly, he remembered there were people in this diner with extraordinary hearing. Grabbing a napkin, he took a fountain pen from his suit and scribbled a note. He slid it over to Archie. The cricket nearly stopped breathing as he read it silently.

"But…but…Mr. Gold, you must be joking!" He had a feeling this man was close to jumping him and hugging him. He edged his seat away.

"I mean every word," he said carefully. He extended his hand. "Do we have a deal?" All Archie needed to do was glance over at Red in order to strike up enough will to shake Gold's hand.

"Deal," he agreed happily. Quickly, he stood up and started in the direction of Henry and Grace.

Once he was gone, Gold reached over and swept up the napkin. He ripped it to shreds, erasing the finely printed note. If you and Red ever plan to marry, I shall take it upon myself to handle the wedding arrangements.

That was assuming Archie had the courage to pop the question at all. He knew the two had been steady recently, even if they liked to believe their relationship was on the down-low. Granny was definitely proud of him. But marriage? It was more likely that a meteor would fall out of the sky.

Heels clicked behind him and suddenly Red's streaked hair flowed over his shoulder.

"By the way, I hope you enjoyed your walk with Emma. Because there's superglue on that seat you're occupying."

Gripping the handles of the chair, he urged his body to lift from the seat, but it refused to move. The chair screeched across the floor as he fought with it, his pants glued. Red was hoping he would tear them. She doubled over in laughter.

I wouldn't laugh too soon if I were you, Hoodsie Cup. There was only one possible solution. He snapped his fingers. Red froze as she waited for him to be levitated from the seat or the chair to explode, releasing him.

"Looks like your magic failed you this time," she boasted.

Ignoring her, he popped open his buckle and wrenched down his zipper. Red stared open-mouthed, horrified as he began to wiggle and work his way out of the pants. He climbed over the arm of the chair and landed gracefully on his feet. He turned full-circle, admiring the suit pants that had apparently been directly underneath his other pair.

Who was laughing now?

"It's the Everlasting Pants spell. How do you think I always changed so quickly at parties in our world when someone decided to show up in the same leather pants as me?"

He glanced deliberately at Regina across the room. Red regained her composure and whipped out the list of rules. Under the last rule, in big letters, she wrote No Magic!

He should have known that would come up sooner or later in their game. It was good while it lasted. He still pouted, though.

…..

Hypnotism had always been an interest of Archie's. At first, he had secretly wanted to be a stage-magician. He even knew how to saw people in half. But being a therapist was much more logical, or so his false memories told him.

And he would like to marry Red. She was the one, he knew it.

"Henry, Grace," he greeted warmly as he approached their table-turned-dance floor. They smiled up at him expectantly. "Listen, how would you two like to be…hypnotized?" What kid didn't want to be hypnotized?

He took out his pocket watch and dangled it in front of them like a pendulum. This would only work if he had their permission. Grace's eyes lit up like twinkling stars in the night sky.

"Cool," she breathed in awe, reaching out to touch the pocket watch. Henry didn't look so sure.

"Is it safe?" Archie had never used hypnotism on Henry during their sessions; mostly, they just talked. Kneeling down to his level, Archie swung the watch back and forth. He patted Henry's shoulder reassuringly.

"Of course it is. I thought it would be a neat trick. I wanted to be a magician, you know," he said. He meant every word. He wouldn't attempt this if he didn't think Henry or Grace would be safe. Or if he didn't want Red to be happy in the future.

Henry considered it and then nodded.

"Okay. Let's try it," he exclaimed, his excitement rocketing up. Archie took slow breaths and instructed them to watch the watch. He made sure to speak in an even, soothing voice.

"Now, all I need you two to do is keep your minds open and take slow, deep breaths. Just relax." It was simple, really. All he did was encourage them to fall asleep. Their breathing deepened and their eyes crossed until their heads lolled on their chests.

A hand suddenly gripped his shoulder. He yelped and leaped to his feet, clutching at his chest. It was only Emma, holding a book closely to her body. She peered over his shoulder at the sleeping children.

"Guess their energy burned out, huh?" She frowned in disappointment. "And I was betting on Grace to win at hide-and-seek."

….

"So, my kid's crashed out in a booth," Emma announced as she plunked herself down in the chair next to him. She laid her fairy-tale book on the counter and drummed her fingers on it.

"Is that your way of telling me the children are asleep and that it's time for adult swim?"

Gold leered down at the Sheriff hungrily, arching an eyebrow. Emma scoffed and rolled her eyes to the ceiling. A fiery passion burned in her green eyes, the kind that requested answers.

"What are you really up to, Gold?" He feigned an innocent look, but she didn't buy it. "You're giving me drinks, flowers, and charming me with fairy-tales. You enticed me into frisking you. You're telling me a kiss is all you want?"

His lips widened to reveal his teeth. He leaned forward until she was a mere breath away, but she didn't blink. Lifting a hand, his fingertips brushed against her cheek.

"A kiss is all I want, Emma. Unless you offer more," he murmured softly. Oh, he would love to know what was going on in that pretty head of hers. Was she imagining herself giving in to his charms? Did she picture herself kissing him, writhing in his arms?

For her sake, he returned to his previous distance.

"It's your choice," he informed her. Delicately, her lips parted and he glimpsed her tongue running across her teeth.

A loud stampede prevented whatever Emma had been about to say.

It was Granny in her glowing green neon glasses, marching through the crowd furiously. And in her fist was a pair of pants. He mentally groaned. Oh, no. All at once, he regretted leaving his pants behind. He assumed Red would dispose of them properly. Burn them in the parking lot.

"Which person owns these?"

Granny was using her take-no-prisoners voice. The one she used when wielding her crossbow. The diner's mayhem hushed to a dull roar except for the music. There was no way he was raising his hand, not with Emma beside him.

As it turned out, he didn't have to. The patrons of this diner would have figured it out eventually—they were expensive suit pants, after all. But Red strode up behind his seat and pointed a finger right over his head.

"That would be him," she declared.

She might as well attach a neon arrow above his head for all the attention he earned. Even Emma was gazing at him with a mixture of disbelief and distaste. Granny thrust the pair of pants under his nose.

"I don't care how intoxicated you are or how rich you are. There is no stripping in my diner! Just for that, I'm charging twice as much for your pickles."

She left him with the rumpled pair of pants and undue attention. Red seemed proud of herself. And Emma was still gawking.

"I have a very complicated relationship with that woman."

….

I'm glad you guys are enjoying this little holiday series I've got going on. So, just out of curiosity, what do you think Gold's stage-name would be? (-;

Anyone want a piece of Gold's suit? Here's to 666Neme666, DaesGatling, sbcarri, Huntress4455, spankingfemfatale, nuckythompson, DragonRose4, helikesitheymikey (the green dress=third Sleeping Beauty fairy. I think her name is Fauna, isn't it?), thedoctorsgirl42, and SwanQueen4055. Thanks, everyone!