Wow, this fic has taken on a life of its own. I originally thought it wouldn't go past 7 parts, but I'm obviously far from that (thinking 10 now). Just a warning, there are some M-ish shenanigans towards the end of this one. I personally don't think it's that graphic, but if shower masturbation makes you clutch your pearls, just skip the part that comes after Emma & Neal's short convo, and go right to the small last segment.

Emma woke with a start when she felt a sharp pinch on her thigh. Ruby was crouched down next to her head, a suspicious gleam in her eyes. The sneak, must've found the spare key under the mat.

"What the hell did you get up to last night?"

Emma tried to push Ruby over with a hand on her face, but the other girl dodged her groggy swipe easily. "What're you talking about?"

"You were just making out with your pillow."

Her eyes shot open fully. "I was not!"

"You most certainly were. Either you're a closet objectophile, or you were having an amazingly filthy dream." She got up, started prancing around the room with affected casualness. "But about who, I wonder?"

"Neal," Emma replied, too quickly.

A sharp peal of laughter escaped Ruby. "Uh-huh. Neal. Riiiight."

Emma let out a heavy sigh. "Okay, I'm still pissed at you for that crap you pulled yesterday, but I'm going to explode if I don't tell someone. I…I did something I really shouldn't have. Like, really shouldn't have. I know you've, uh, been in the same boat before, so—"

"Oh, wow, I never thought this day would come. I mean, after you went all the way through college without…well, without experimenting, I didn't think you ever would. Honestly, I always thought you kept pretty square for going to an art school, but—

Emma clipped her on the side of the head with the pillow. "Oh my god. I didn't screw a girl last night, you dope! I—I kissed Killian."

She expected some kind of theatric scream, but Ruby was only stunned into silence for about two seconds, before she fixed Emma with a studious look, resting her chin on her steepled fingers.

"Okay, okay. Not shocking in the least, but I still need specifics. Who started it? Was it on the forehead? The cheek? The mouth?"

"The mouth—"

"The mouth! Okay, good. Tongue? Biting? Incoherent noises?"

"Jesus, I can't take you seriously like this. But yeah, there was…tongue. And I started it."

"You slut! No, kidding, I like this so far. So what happens now?"

Emma fell back onto the bed. "Now? Nothing much. I should probably call Killian to apologize for trying to eat his face." She burrowed her head into the sheets. "God, I'm so embarrassed."

"Seriously? That's all you have to say?"

Emma turned, brow creased. "What else is there to say?"

Ruby blew out an exasperated puff of air. "Really, Emma. You're so out of practice. Was it good?"

Those full, soft lips that contrasting with the rough scrape of stubble, moving against her smooth face, the way both their mouths just fit—

"It was, uh…it was all right."

"Sure. Now how about the truth?"

"I only told you because…well, you've been between guys before. Did you ever tell one about the other?"

"No. I just always went with the better kisser. So…who is it?"

"None of your business! And it doesn't matter—this doesn't change anything. I'm not telling Neal, though."

Ruby rolled her lips around for a moment, like she was fighting against saying the wrong thing, then: "So what did Killian say?"

"Uh…nothing. I pushed him away, told him it was a mistake, then jumped in the car and left."

"Geez, Emma. You really know how to sweep a guy off his feet."

Now she did explode. "There's only one guy I should be sweeping off his feet, and it sure as hell isn't Killian fucking Jones!"

Ruby waved her hands. "Alright, alright, calm down. Why don't you invite him out to the dinner with everyone tonight? No hard feelings, everything's cool, yada yada yada…know what I mean?"

"Vaguely." She rubbed at her temples. What a mess she'd made.

"A peace offering, Emma. If he comes, he realizes you made a mistake too, and he's not mad at you. Don't you still like him as a…as a friend?"

"Of course."

"Well then?"

"If I do, will you go away?"

"Only if you really ask him. And I'll know if you didn't!"

Once Ruby finally relented and left Emma in peace, she stewed awhile longer. She knew before she'd kissed him that Killian had been about to say she didn't owe him anything. But through no pressure on his part, she was starting to think that wasn't altogether true. Because for the first time in years, Emma was feeling a flame of hope flickering inside her, rising out of the ashes.

It took hours of pacing around her apartment, cleaning things that didn't merit it, and staring at the TV before she worked up the courage to call Killian. He answered on the first ring.

"Oh, Swan. This is unexpected. The way you acted last night, I thought you'd have gone into Witness Protection by now."

"I'm sorry, Killian. I just…overreacted. Got caught up in the moment, I was feeling good—"

"Were you, then?"

"But, you know, it was a…a mistake. It's not like—it's not like it can happen again. I'm sorry to have…put you in that awkward situation."

Killian concentrated on making his tone casual. "S'alright, Swan. Why, if I had a pound for every woman whose wanted a few smooches with the dark and dashing stripper before their wedding…well, I guess I'd be poor." He paused for a second, then when there was only silence: "You know…since you can't use pounds here."

That finally elicited a small laugh. "Really, Killian, I am sorry. In fact, I wanted to see if you'd like to come out to dinner with us tonight. Me, Ruby, Elsa, Victor…"

"And Neal?"

He could hear the deep intake of breath on her side. "Yes, him too. Is that a problem?"

Before he could answer, there was a beeping coming from Emma's side of the conversation. "Hold just a sec, Killian." She switched over to the 'call waiting'. "Hello?"

A strange male voice asked, "Excuse me, have I reached Emma Nolan?"

Oh no, Emma thought, he's had an accident and landed in the hospital, or something. Kissed another man before our wedding and cursed him.

"Yes?"

"I believe we have your boyfriend here…Neal? He's…well, he's gotten obnoxiously drunk, and the manager is making us kick him out. He's got some friends here, but one isn't any better off, and the other came on a bike, and this Neal guy doesn't remember where his car is, and—"

Wonderful. Drunk by 7pm on a weekday. She guessed that was the beauty of having zero responsibilities. There went the dinner plans. "Thanks," Emma said to the poor bartender after she got the name of the place, recognizing it as a strictly college coed hellhole in Hermosa Beach. "I'll be right over."

She switched back over to Killian. Maybe she shouldn't invite him now, however the plans ended up. It was bad enough when the people she'd known forever were subjected to Neal's idiotic drunk ramblings. After her embarrassing breakdown the other evening, she wanted to keep a strong front on with Killian, even though she knew he was the type who wouldn't think any less of her for having to deal with her trashed fiancé. Somehow letting everything out that had bothered her for so long—and to someone she'd only known a couple weeks, no less—was more humiliating than the kiss. Not even her own parents seemed to get how unproductive she'd been feeling the past few years, which was more active omission on her part than cluelessness on theirs. Even to them, she hated showing weakness. She was their strong, capable, only child and that was how things were going to stay.

"Killian? I'm sorry, but I just got a call…Neal's…incapacitated, and I have to go get him. Maybe another time?"

Another time be damned. Killian knew it wasn't his responsibility—hell, he didn't have the right—but the thought of Emma having to deal with whatever that punk had gotten into, all on her own….

"Trouble? Perhaps I could help."

There was a pause. "I don't want you to see him like this. It's…well, he's going to be all my responsibility soon enough. Might as well get used to it."

He kept his sigh in check. "How about you accept some assistance for as long as you can, then?"

"No," she insisted stubbornly, "I'll get him myself. Original dinner plans are a bust now, though. But, um, I'm picking him up just one town over from my parents' place. Maybe I can move the festivities there instead. Still interested?"

Was he ever. But after that force-of-nature kiss the other night, maybe he needed a buffer. The way he was feeling, Swan's whole armada of friends and even her git of a fiancé might not be able to pry his lips from hers if he saw her again without some kind of chaperone.

"Would it be inconvenient if I…if I invited someone along? Don't wish to be rude, though, so if it is—"

"No! It's—that's great! I'll just text you the info after I pick up Neal."

She threw her phone against the couch cushions a bit too forcefully after she'd hung up and sent Killian her parents' address and a general start time. What if Killian brought a woman with him? A hot wave of dizziness swept over her at the thought, and she told herself that was ridiculous. He'd asked to bring someone, and she'd agreed. Plus why shouldn't he bring a woman—he was a hot, available man, and they were just friends. Friends who revealed more than they should to each other, and participated in face-meltingly amazing kisses that should never have occurred.

Her phone beeped with his return text. I've invited my mate from the yard, Will. A loudmouthed sort, but he's sure to entertain if there's a lull in the evening.

A stupidly wide grin snuck over Emma's face, then she hugged her knees as she felt a flush creep up it as well.

Neal was propped up, one arm around August, a friend of his from the USC frat house days that Emma loathed for trying to keep each of their breakups permanent via taking Neal out to plenty of parties, bar singles' nights, and strip clubs during the "breaks". She didn't make any secret about it, either.

"Hey, Emma," he said with a fake smile. "You're looking good. Have you lost weight?"

"Yeah, but I heard they found it on your mom's ass," she shot back automatically, knowing how immature it was, but then again that seemed to be the only language Neal and his friends spoke most of the time.

She turned to the man that had Neal's other arm, not recognizing him. He certainly didn't look like the other frat brother groomsman she'd met briefly. This one had very old clothes on, though he was pulled together neatly, and looked tidy. Which was more than she could say about Neal at the moment, whose hair was sticking up every which way, had ripped pants, and a large stain of something (beer? barbecue sauce?) running down the front of his light-colored shirt.

"I'm sorry, I don't think we've met before."

The guy actually gave her a little bow, completely sincere. "Robin Locksley. And you must be Emma."

"The ol' ball and chain," Neal perked up enough to burp out.

"Shut up, Neal, or I'll leave you here. I don't think the cops will be as forgiving as me." She stood up a little straighter. Wow, where had that come from?

Neal look confused. "What—what did you just—"

She cut him off. "Boys, I'm right at the top of that hill. Let's go."

Soon after they arrived at the townhouse and deposited Neal on the couch, Elsa and Ruby showed up, too. That got August to swallow his pride and start to hoof it down to the Green Line metro stop, not being able to deal with the death glares coming from three women at once. Thankfully, David and Mary Margaret weren't there to witness the mess that was Neal; Thursdays were usually her parents' date night, and with any luck, Regina would already be in a vodka-induced slumber or too engrossed in one of her bodice-rippers to bother them.

Right as the pizza guy was handing Victor the order Emma had called in, a short, bug-eyed man burst in behind him, a bottle of Scotch swinging from his fingers, yelling: "Right, so I heard this was the joint to be to have a rollicking, naked good time?"

Emma pushed Victor aside. "Excuse me, who—". And then she saw Killian next to him. The other guy had to be his loudmouth coworker.

"Hi."

"Hello." She twisted at the hem of her dress.

"Bloody hell, are we staying on the porch all night? I've got an appetite!" Will barreled between them, making for the living room. "Hello, Emma dear."

"Er, hi—"

"And that," Killian said with his hand in a presenter's pose, "is the infamous Will Scarlet."

Emma kept her voice to a whisper. "How'd—how do you guys know each other? Did you come from England together?"

Killian let out a laughing bark. "Oddly enough, not every Brit knows each other, Swan. No, we met at work, and bonded over our mutual fish-out-of-water experiences in a new land."

"I'm sure your mutual cocky attitudes didn't hurt, either."

"You wound me, Swan."

"Where're the tumblers at, eh?" Will started rummaging around the glassware cabinet in the adjoining dining room. Killian strode after him.

"Take it down a notch, will you? Remember, I only invited you because—"

"Don't worry, mate, like I said, I'm here to keep you honest and—hello, who's that?" he broke off, staring at Elsa, sitting regally on one of the easy chairs, hands clasped around a glass of club soda, back ramrod straight. Not waiting for an answer, he clapped Killian on the back. "Sorry, boyo, but you can't compete with that. Off I go."

Killian almost jumped out of his skin at the tickle of warm breath in his ear. "She's going to eviscerate him, you know. Verbally."

He turned halfway to answer Emma. "Oh, don't worry about Scarlet. Skull's too thick to know when he's getting the kiss-off routine. She'll be amused, and he'll think she's into him. Keeps 'im out of my hair, at least."

She laughed, visibly relaxing. "I'm really glad you came."

He darted a quick glance towards the couch, making sure Neal was preoccupied, and tapped the end of her nose. "Me too, Swan."

The sound of a pair of feet coming down the stairs broke through their moment, and Emma groaned when she heard the voice.

"What the hell is all the racket going on down here? Can't someone take a bubble bath in their own home in pea—" Regina's complaining stopped when she got to the bottom of the stairs and took in the group, while it seemed to Emma that her discomfort was just starting. Regina had on a silk crimson robe (with obviously nothing underneath), matching marabou feather heels, and a martini balanced in her hand. She ignored the stares, pointed at Emma. "And don't think I didn't hear and see that homeless man you let vomit in the driveway on your way in. I for one am not cleaning that up."

"Regina," Emma said, trying to keep a level tone, "that was just Neal. He, uh, was feeling sick."

Regina's eyes slid over to the couch, lip curling back at his disheveled appearance. "Oh, never mind…I see the resemblance from earlier now."

"Hi, Gran-Gran!" Neal said, waving wildly, which she pretended not to see. She zeroed in on Will and Robin. "Who're you two?"

Will swaggered forward, jerking a thumb at Killian. "Name's Will, I'm with 'im, Ms.—?"

"Mills." She turned to Killian. "Hello again, Pretty Eyes."

"Hey, Gran-Gran, how 'bout a nickname for me, hmm?" Neal entreated.

"'Cookie Tosser' would seem to be apt, given recent events. Take it or leave it, Nelson."

"It's Neal."

"Of course, of course. And you?" She held out her hand to Robin, who raised it to his lips chivalrously.

"Robin, Madam Mills."

Regina turned a questioning look on Emma. "Why's there a British Invasion here tonight?"

"Robin's my new groomsman! Woohoo!" Neal hooted loudly, pumping a fist in the air.

Regina pressed a fingertip delicately to her ear. "Well, now that the neighborhood cats have been woken up—"

"Why'd you need a new groomsman?" Emma asked. This was news to her.

"Ralph took off to clown college."

Well, that sounded along the line of great life choices his usual friends were prone to making. Regina scrutinized Robin, voicing Emma's confusion. "You don't exactly seem like the type to be Nigel's groomsman, young man."

"Gran-Gran, my name's Ne—"

She glared back over at Neal. "Oh…you're still here. And talking." Neal settled back again, a pouty expression on his face.

Robin looked down, fiddled with a corner of his puffy, olive-green fisherman's vest. "Truthfully, I was a bit surprised myself to be asked," he began in a low voice. "I've changed a lot since my hedonistic, frat-boy days with Neal and August at USC." He looked up, getting a faraway look in his eyes. "One day…well, you could say I had a moment of clarity, and realized I was going through life in a meaningless fashion. So I started roaming the world to find myself. Building mud huts in Papua New Guinea, farming durians in Thailand. I just got back from the Mongolian desert—I've been living amongst the cattle herders there in a yurt for the past six months."

Regina was eyeing Robin with a laughable mix of revulsion and intrigue on her face. "How very…rugged." She leaned closer to him, letting the robe's slick material gape open at the neckline even further, revealing most of her bosom. "Do go on, mountain man."

"I…," Robin was staring at her, slackjawed.

"Hey, my eyes are up here, Sweetness. I can't blame you, though, the doctor says I'm in remarkable shape for my age. Do with that information what you will."

Ugh, that was enough of that, Emma decided. If there was a sure way to get Regina to quit harping on Neal and avoid her trying to 'Mrs. Robinson' a surprisingly nice friend of his, it would be this. "Say, Gran-Gran," Emma started, "I'll get Neal home, but only if I can take him in your car."

The car in question was Regina's pride and joy, a pale pink Cadillac bestowed upon her many years ago after convincing (bullying was more like it) a multitude of women into buying an insane number of Mary Kay cosmetics. She drove it as little as possible, took it to be washed and waxed twice a month, and never let anyone else close to it, much less in it. Even though the house had a closed garage, she still turned the car alarm on whenever she wasn't nearby. And right then, the thought of Neal in her precious convertible was making her face contort like a cat who'd just had a bucket of water dumped on it.

"Why, you…him…no." She stood up suddenly, finishing her martini in one fast swig. "You stay away from it, you understand? Away!" She scuttled to the keyhook by the front door, and stuck her car keys down her cleavage. Far from her usual deliberate glide, she stomped angrily up the stairs, and slammed her bedroom door.

"I'm sorry about that…"

Robin grinned sheepishly. "It's fine, really. She's quite—quite a character."

There was a lull for a bit as everyone mixed drinks and ate pizza. Once that wound down, it wasn't Will who broke the silence, but Victor.

"I'm not sure if it's supposed to be a secret or something, but I know about the, er…the stripping," he said to Killian.

"It's…it's alright," Killian answered. It was bound to come out sooner or later, with Emma, Ruby, and Elsa knowing. Ruby didn't seem like the type to keep secrets.

"A stripper?" Neal's eyes glittered beadily. "You strip for—for women?"

"That's right, mate. Birthdays, bachelorette parties, girls' night out—things of that ilk."

"So, uh, I bet you get plenty of tail with that side job," Victor commented; Ruby laughed and gave him a smack in the chest.

"Er, well, not as much as you might think," Killian began, then, seeing Emma's eyes on him, elaborated. "It's definitely fun for a little while, when you're first in that scene. But I've already been through the whole crazy life period, and so women throwing themselves at you…let's just say it got terribly old, terribly fast."

Neal looked absolutely gobsmacked. "You mean to—I mean, you're saying…you turn down free, horny chicks. Regularly." He leaned back against the couch, gave Killian a skeptical stare. "Have you ever kissed another guy, man?"

"Neal!" Emma hissed.

Killian let a slow breath in, then out through his nose. Best to not rise to the bait, make it plain who the idiot was in this situation. "I'm saying there's such a thing as too easy, for me, and I'm not about that type of thing anymore." His gaze met Emma's for only a splitsecond before continuing. "I'm more about the chase these days."

Neal leaned back, arms folded behind his head. "Emma was ripe for the taking—just twenty when we met, all into her weirdo art classes—"

"I was young and impressionable," she mumbled, rolling her Scotch glass between her hands.

He gave her an irritated look. "Well, I guess I made quite an impression. Eight years later, still together—yeah, she tried to break up a few times, but she always realized her mistake. I guess you really never get over the one that popped your ch—"

Emma snatched one of the throw pillows on the loveseat and threw it across the room, right into Neal's face. "Shut the hell up right now, Neal, I fucking mean it!"

He just caught it, and settled back comfortably. "You're mouthy tonight. Maybe you shouldn't drink so much."

"Maybe I—are you kidding me? Who's the one who redecorated my parents' driveway?!"

"Just stop talking, you douchebag," Elsa piped up from her corner where Will was shadowing her. Emma and Ruby both looked surprised; Elsa rarely went toe-to-toe with Neal. She hated confrontation, but it looked like she'd reached her limit.

"Don't be jealous when you hear about other people getting it on, Elsa. I'll bet you're still as frigid as the day you were born."

If looks could kill, the icy daggers shooting from Elsa's eyes would have impaled Neal on the spot.

"Emma doesn't like having your private moments out there for all to know, mate," Killian said, voice raspy with anger. "And that's understandable."

"And just a warning, old bean," Will said, "you insult this lovely lady here again, and you'll be answering to me." He ended that with a sarcastic wink.

Elsa turned, annoyed. "I don't need you standing up for—"

Neal snorted loudly. "I'm not going to get myself dirty fighting a—a fucking blue collar worker."

Will laughed. "That I may be, mate, but hard work does wonders for the abdominals," he said, patting his stomach. "I'd show you, but I suspect that would make you even more mad. Give ye a feeling of failure as well, true, but mostly mad."

Neal stood up, fists clenched. "You little shit—"

"Hey!" Ruby held up a hand at Neal. "Knock off the tough guy act, Mike Tyson; you aren't going to rumble in the Nolans' living room."

"When I want advice from you, dyke, I'll ask—"

"What did I tell you at the pier, man? You insult her one more time, one more time, and I'll—"

"Stuff it up your ass, Whale—"

Emma put her fingers into the sides of her mouth and blew an ear-piercing whistle. "Everybody shut the fuck up, alright?" She sighed. "Party's over. Everyone just…let's clear out."

"Sorry about…everything tonight, guys," Emma said as she walked Killian and Will outside to send them off.

"Wasn't your fault, love," Killian murmured.

"Right, but maybe next time a muzzle would—" Will started, before Killian punched him in the side.

She turned to Killian, a tremulous smile on her face. "I—I'll see—we'll get together sometime again this week?"

"Sounds good."

She grinned. "Bye, Will. It was nice to—oh!" Will had completely ignored her outstretched hand and lifted her right up off the ground. "Until we meet again, lovely."

"I told you she was brilliant," Killian said as they walked to Will's car.

"Quite right: that lovely braid, the tight little pants, the way she called out that giant bugger—"

"I'm talking about Emma, and you know it. And don't even think of going for her friends."

"Emma….Oh yeah, fantastic, wonderful, the epitome of class…" Will trailed off, then without warning gave Killian a hard smack across the back of his head.

"Bloody hell!" Killian was sure he was seeing stars. "What the everloving fuck was that for?!"

"Don't think I don't know what you're up to, you sneaky wanker. Going for the taken ones again, thought you'd gotten that outta yer system. But this one, she's a nice girl, even if she's all about that insufferable sod—back away, Jones. And stop torturin' yourself; it's bloody pathetic to witness."

"We're friends, you daft, bloody—"

"I'd bet a million pounds you've never had a friend of the fairer sex in your whole damn adult life."

"There's a first time for everything."

Will just eyed him distrustfully. "You're settin' up yerself for a great disappointment. Just walk away, mate."

Much as Emma would've liked to leave Neal passed out on a couch far from her, she didn't want her parents' inevitable questions that would come with it. She managed to cart Neal up to her place, and deposited him on her own sofa.

He looked up at her, holding out his arms, motioning her to stoop down for a kiss. "C'mon baby, lemme stay with you."

"No," she said firmly. "You made a huge scene tonight. Besides, I don't want you throwing up in my bed."

He rolled over, pushing his face into the sofa back. "Well, when you get over it, you know where to find me for some sexual healing." In two minutes flat, a loud snore reverberated up from his prone body. Emma rolled her eyes and went to her bedroom, then on second thought, turned the lock. She didn't want to be startled awake at 3am to Neal dry humping her leg, or something.

Sleep wouldn't come, though. She paced, read a little, but the restlessness remained, and she couldn't figure out why. Emma belly flopped on her bed, punching her pillow. Tonight could have been so nice with everyone together, but fucking Neal just had to ruin it, and now his snores were sounding throughout the whole apartment. She sat up with a start when she realized what was keeping her up: she couldn't even remember the last time they'd slept together, nor when she'd even wanted to. Not unusual on her part, but definitely on his; he seemed to paw at her constantly. Except, she thought, when he was cheating on you before. And those times she'd suspected him of it, too. But tonight he hadn't even sat near her, and given up far too easily for him when he was relegated to the sofa. Well, it was a likely scenario at this point, but she wanted to be sure. She padded out to the living room.

"Hey baby," she purred in his ear, pushing her breasts up against his shoulder. "Wake up."

He mumbled some nonsense, and turned over. Emma reached out and grabbed his junk through his pants, squeezing harder than necessary. "I said, wake up!"

"Ow!" Neal bolted upright. "What's your problem?"

She thrust out her bottom lip. "I'm lonely. Come warm me up." She ran her hands down his legs.

"Heh," he laughed weakly. "I thought…I thought you were tired."

"I was, but, you know…the thought of you gets me…fired up." She might be a horrible liar, but Neal was always too dense to tell.

He disentangled himself. "No, babe, you were right. I've been a jerk." He laid down and turned his back on her. "Sleeping out here, away from you, can be my punishment."

Her eyes narrowed knowingly. Boom, nail in the coffin. The motherfucker had done it again.

A nice, hot shower usually calmed Emma down and let her regain a cool head about tough situations. What the fuck was she going to do? The damn wedding was in a week, and there was no way she was going to marry someone who had cheated on her for what she surmised was the fourth fucking time. She leaned her head back against the tiles, breathing slowly and letting the water hit her face. At least Gold had paid for more of the wedding than her parents; it wouldn't be an insurmountable financial loss to them. And, of course, she'd offer to help them with the house and business to make up for it, though she knew they wouldn't be mad. Her father would probably dance a jig, come to think of it. Regina wouldn't be as open with her feelings, but she'd probably shoot Emma her catlike smile and tip whatever she was drinking at the moment towards her, which was practically jumping up and down in her mind. Her friends would be ecstatic. And Killian…

Emma's eyes flew open. He'd turned into such a great person to talk to. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to bounce all this off him first. Yeah, who're you kidding? A great listener, a friend, an incredible kisser…maybe she did just want to see how he'd take it. And where they could go from there.

Emma closed her eyes again, thinking about that wild black hair she'd run her fingers through, those clear blue eyes, his soft smile when she felt like she'd revealed too much. Her hand drifted down, over her breasts, across her stomach, and down her abdomen to that center of pleasure, rubbing tentatively. She squeezed her thighs together as the first little synapses of sensation started to spark. Her other hand braced against the shower door, and she tilted her head back, thinking back on that first night, when he'd lifted her up against that muscular chest, how the soft, dark hair had felt under her exploring hands, his tight ass rubbing into her lap, right over her clit….

She came suddenly, a spasm rocketing through her, all the way down her limbs. Emma thudded heavily against the shower door, gripping the top of it with both hands now, breathing heavily.

Her head jerked up at the knock on the door. "Alright in there, babe? You didn't slip, did you? Cause I can't drive your car to the hospital, you know, cause of the insurance. My rates would go through the roof."

"Tool," she muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing—go back to sleep. I'm fine."

Emma left Killian a voicemail the next morning after Neal left, and he called her back on his lunch break. She hadn't given Neal the big kiss-off yet, mostly because she thought any immediate broaching of the subject would end with her hands around his throat. Best to give it a day or two.

"What's the plan, Swan? Feeling like another night out? We could have a re-do of yesterday."

She giggled nervously. "I appreciate that, Killian, but actually…I have a favor to ask you."

"Oh, a favor. This sounds interesting. Out with it, love."

"I want you—"

"This sounds promising already—"

"Will you let me finish, you dork? I want—I want you to pose for me."

"As in…?"

"As in, for a painting. It's completely for practice, of course, so don't get your hopes up. And I can't pay you, but you can have it when I'm done."

"Why, Swan," he said, and Emma could hear the smile in his voice. "Does this mean after our little talk the other day that your muse has returned?"

"Not exactly. But I'm trying to be proactive, y'know? Give it a little push."

"Well, nothing wrong with that. And who am I to stand in the way of artistic genius? Will this posing involve nudity?"

"Absolutely not."

"I'm just saying, if your creativity calls for nudity, I'll bite the bullet, and—"

She laughed. "You're an absolute dope sometimes. Could you come over Sunday morning?"

A/N: So, I think we've all known someone like Robin at some point-usually they're completely pretentious, but I made him more well-intentioned about his travels. Thanks for reading! Feedback always appreciated!