A/N: Me again! Thank you so much to everyone who has read and/or reviewed so far…every time I get a new review or see that the view count has gone up I get a smile on my face. Now for this chapter, I just want to make a disclaimer…I personally love music from the 80's! I was born at the tail end of the decade but I have a soft spot for power ballads and hair metal bands, as you would easily be able to discern if you could see my iPod playlist ;)

As always, feedback is much appreciated.

Disclaimer: OUAT and all of its characters belong to ABC…all I own is a sense of impatience waiting for the Once-inspired iPad cover I just ordered to arrive.

Chapter 3: Into The Groove

Music had always played a part in Emma's life. For someone who was frequently moved from place to place with little warning, sometimes the only constant she could rely on was tuning a stereo and knowing that her favourite radio station would burst to life amongst the static. Sometimes, she didn't even care if she liked the song…it was just comforting to know that some things did not change even when her location did.

In her teens, one of her most prized possessions had been a CD Walkman. A hand-me-down from one of her foster families, it was beat-up and scratched but Emma didn't care. Whenever things got out of hand at her current home, she'd escape to the nearest park and sit under a tree with her headphones glued to her ears. She'd only owned a couple of CDs but they were enough to temporarily shut out the outside world when she blasted them loud enough.

Her tastes had changed over the years, a childhood love of preppy pop morphing to a teenage addiction of alternative rock to an adult liking for more classic rock but even she could appreciate a good song of any genre…except for one.

No, not really a genre, a decade.

The Eighties, to be specific.

She may have spent her childhood listening to the music of that time but in hindsight, she found the electronic sound, simple drumbeats and numerous power ballads which defined the era far too cheesy and cringe-inducing.

Unfortunately, it was becoming readily apparent that her mother did not share her disdain…

"Are you sure this is the music you want to play at the party tonight?"

Emma flipped through the stack of CDs, feeling a little nostalgic at the sound of the plastic cases banging together. Storybrooke hadn't quite caught up with the iPod age yet…hell, the one music store in town still had a large selection of vinyl records which would have fetched a pretty penny at the retro music store down the street from her New York apartment.

Snow looked across from where she was preparing food in the kitchen.

"Of course…why, is there something wrong with it?"

Emma winced slightly as she picked up yet another CD with a group of long-haired men with make-up staring longingly out from the cover.

"No, there's nothing wrong per say, just…don't you have anything a little…"

"More modern?" Snow finished, grinning slightly at her daughter's expression.

"Actually, I was going to say a little less cheesy but modern works," Emma shrugged, continuing to search. If she had looked up, she would have seen an almost silent affronted gasp escape her mother's lips.

"My music is not cheesy," Snow protested, placing down her knife and rounding the counter, "My music is classic."

"Mom, rock from the sixties is classic…ballads from the eighties are just…" Emma trailed off as Snow snatched the CD she'd just picked up from her fingers and waved it in front of her face.

"Amazing, they are amazing. They're powerful, upbeat, moving…"

"And only loved for being the pick of drunk karaoke singers the world over," Emma drawled, crossing her arms against her chest.

Snow shook her head, rifling through the pile below her until she plucked one out with a triumphant grin. Crossing to the CD player, she placed it inside and hit play. A moment of silence passed before a tinkling of piano keys started to echo around the apartment.

"Seriously?" Emma asked incredulously, "This is one of the worst of the lot!"

"No, it isn't," Snow insisted, side-eyeing her daughter as the introductory notes continued, "It's a perfect example of a powerful yet melancholy ode to losing love."

Emma opened her mouth to argue back when the front door opened, David slipping inside with Neal snuggled safely against his chest in the fabric sling Ashley had given them.

"Hey," he greeted, pressing a quick kiss to Emma's head before moving to Snow to place a more lingering kiss against the corner of her mouth, "What's with the music? Are we starting the party early?"

"Emma has issues with my musical tastes," Snow answered as she gently removed a sleeping Neal from his sling and cradled him in her arms.

"Why?" David asked puzzled, tilting his head so he could identify the music playing, "I like this song."

"Of course you do," Emma rolled her eyes, "No wonder you were able to share a heart, you already loved the same things."

"Not all the same things," Snow corrected.

"Yeah, she has a soft spot for Wham!…I prefer Duran Duran," David finished with a wink, "And what's wrong with liking this song?"

"Everything," Emma responded with exasperation as the song in the background built towards its chorus, "It is as cheesy as that Pina Colada song but in a different way…"

"Oh!" Snow exclaimed, "I forgot about that one…I wonder if we own that."

She passed Neal back to David and turned to search through the pile once again, ignoring Emma's slight groan.

"I don't think your big sister is very impressed with us right now," David whispered to his son dryly as Neal started to stir.

"What gave you that impression?" she responded with equal dryness.

"Yes!"

Snow's exclamation broke in, her hand clutching her prize.

"I found it," she continued, proceeding to change the CDs over mid-song. As the familiar notes started to play, David held Neal out to Emma with a questioning brow. She took him with sigh, cradling him close as her father turned to her mother and extended a courtly bow.

"May I have this dance, Your Highness?"

Snow giggled lightly.

"You may good sir."

He immediately swept her up into his arms, leading her into a facsimile of a lively waltz with far more laughing and slightly off-key singing than was probably publicly appropriate.

Despite her best efforts, Emma couldn't help her smile. Looking down at her baby brother, she let him curl his tiny hand around one of her fingers.

"Lesson number one about our parents kid…they are dorky at times. Adorable, loving and kind…but dorky all the same."