Their attempts are both sad and infrequent. The weeks after Emma and Killian's visit are hectic for everyone involved. The college students have final projects and exams. The high schoolers have AP exams and graduation activities to attend to. They've barely got time for a five minute phone call between siblings these days.

"Maybe next year," David says one night, akimbo on his mattress after his business exam.

"Yeah, maybe next year," Liam agrees. They both know it won't happen, but what sort of life is worth living without a spark of hope?

But graduations come and go – Emma all done up, hair curled, and Killian dressed to the nines, smile wide, 150 miles away – and college senior years come and go a year later. Killian takes special leave from basic training to see Liam walk across his stage. Emma finds enough time between her nose in a bio book and her hands in soapy dishwater at Granny's Diner to take pictures with David and his fake diploma. Jobs start and memories happen and life is moving on without a second thought to Emma and Killian getting together.

At this rate, the stars previously aligned in their favor will never be so again.

Until…

0000

The phone ringing isn't unexpected. Emma's train should be getting in soon, she'll either be lost or so sick of people that he'll need to fight traffic and pick her up. But it's Thanksgiving and he hasn't seen his little sister since…July, maybe?

It's been far too long.

"Honey, will you please pick that up?" Mary Margaret yells from the kitchen. "If I have to hear that stupid ringtone of yours one more time, I'm going to throw stuffing at you and then shove it down your pants."

"Why torture both of us, darling?" David responds, picking up the phone anyway. It's meant to be a joke, but even the thought of soggy breadcrumbs and vegetables around his parts is uncomfortable. An old friend's name is on his caller ID and now, even four years later, the man's an integral part of his life.

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid you've called the wrong number," David says in greeting. "We don't take solicitors."

"Ahoy-hoy, mate," Liam replies. "Have you heard the good news of our pasta monster overlord?"

Laughter echoes through the mostly-empty apartment. "You'll have to tell me all about it tomorrow when I see that sorry mug of yours." David makes his way into the bedroom, shutting the door on his way.

"I look forward to sharing the word with another believer." The chuckles die down on both sides of the conversation. Then Liam talks. "Speaking of tomorrow, what's your plan?"

"Well." A knot ties up his throat, as it has every time David's tried to articulate it. Ever since Liam moved to New York a couple months ago and rekindled their friendship, weekly bar nights are commonplace. It's like their college years all over again – just instead of class, David comes from the police department and Liam comes from port.

Fiddling with the tassels on their bed quilt, he takes a seat before saying, "I had half a mind to propose to Mary Margaret tomorrow."

Silence follows his statement and it's beginning to unnerve him.

"Then I'm really going to see if I can inconvenience you any more than I already am."

Groaning, David flops on the bed. His original plan is apparently already shot to shit. What more can his old roommate do to this weekend?

"How so?"

Liam sighs. "You remember my kid brother right?"

Nodding, David puts his agreement into words. "How is Killian?" he asks nonchalantly. "Has he found a nice girl or is he still hung up on Emma?"

The pause on the other side of the line is a bit disheartening. He's about to take his words back when Liam says, "I honestly have no idea. But you can ask him yourself."

David's confused. "What do you mean? I don't have his number."

Again, Liam sighs. "Killian's just managed to take some leave for the holiday. He's in the bathroom right now. And I was hoping that, if it wasn't too much of an issue for you and Mary Margaret…"

"Don't worry about it. Christmas is probably more of a Mary Margaret romantic moment." Another, better plan is forming in David's mind, the wheels and cogs turning at a speed faster than they have in a while, causing him to sit up. "I'm fine with another person at the table," he says with a smirk. "Especially since Emma's on the train up here right now."

"No way."

"She should be calling me any minute," David responds. "Prepared to intervene?"

"I was born ready." Some noise crashes through Liam's end of the line. Grumbled unintelligible words barely make it into David's ear – something about pots and pans and knock it the fuck off, little Killy. "Congratulations, mate, by the way," he says when he comes back. "Are you sure there isn't something else I can bring for dinner tomorrow? I feel bad for ruining your big proposal plans."

"Just you and -" His phone beeps. David pulls it from his ear and sees another call is waiting – Emma's number. "Hey, Liam, I've got to go. Emma's on the other line, probably complaining about Union Station." Laughter floods through the connection and it warms David's heart because it feels like old time. "Go ahead and bring Killian over. Dinner's around five and don't be afraid to bring copious amounts of alcohol. God knows someone's going to need it."

"I was planning on driving into the city," Liam begins, but David shakes his head and interrupts.

"No, you guys can crash here. We'll figure it all out tomorrow." Emma's bound to be a firecracker now that he's made her wait this long on the phone. Mary Margaret might even tear him a new one, something along the lines of your sister doesn't know this city, you're leaving her alone in the middle of it?! "You just provide your half of the plan and I'll provide mine."

Liam chuckles. "It's a deal."

0000

"Have you done it yet?" No greeting. Just curious, nosy Emma trying to figure out if she can finally call Mary Margaret his fiancée yet.

Sighing, David flicks on his turn signal and edges back into traffic. "No, not yet. I was going to do it tomorrow, but I don't think I will."

Even with his eyes on the road, he can tell his sister is flabbergasted. Her tone of voice – shrill and contemptible – when she screeches "WHAT?!" only proves it.

"David, you and Mary Margaret have been together for five billion years! You live together. Mom has a caterer, a florist, and a dressmaker on her speed dial." She sighs in frustration. "You were telling me last time we talked to each other you couldn't wait to make it official. What happened?"

He shrugs. Emma can't know the reason behind his proposal postponement. She'd never agree to him and Liam putting all their efforts on hold to get Killian and her together.

"Liam's coming over for dinner," David says. "I wanted it to be more of a family affair. No offense to him."

"Oh." Settling down into the passenger seat, his sister throws her feet on the dashboard. "I guess that makes sense."

"I thought it did." He reaches over the center console and slaps her knee. "But we can discuss that later when I actually decide to pop the question."

Emma scoffs, "You mean grow the balls. Nut up or shut up, buddy."

David knows she won't see it when he rolls his eyes because he's focused on the asshole who cut him off, but he hears her chuckle. The same blood might not run through their veins, but he knows his little sister more than he knows anyone else.