Down to the wire here but it's definitely up on Thanksgiving. Well, in my time zone at least. Please to enjoy.

Killian rolled over in bed and was shocked but not entirely surprised to find that the body he'd draped his arm over was much hairier than he'd expected. Roger rewarded the late night affection with a lick to his face. Grimacing and wide awake he rolled to his other side and saw that it was a little after two in the morning. With a groan he heaved himself out of bed and headed to the dining room where he knew Emma would be either pouring over cookbooks or watching cooking videos on YouTube.

As predicted Emma was hunched over her laptop, her back to him. He shook his head at her sudden propensity for over planning but couldn't help the smile that crept up. Yawning he walked over and placed a kiss to the top of her head. He was rewarded with an elbow to his stomach.

"Oh, shit, Killian!" Emma yelped as she ripped her headphones from her ears. "I'm so sorry!"

"S'alright, Swan," he moaned, bending over to clutch at his middle.

Roger, who had followed him from the bedroom, resumed licking his face as she probably mistook his attempts to catch his breath for playfulness. For the next several minutes it was a confusing wrestling match as both Emma and Killian tried to push Roger away. She danced around them, her tail whapping him intermittently in the face while Emma apologized profusely. All the while Killian couldn't catch his breath from laughing too hard.

Finally Emma pulled Roger away as he collapsed on the floor in a breathless heap.

"God, Killian, I'm sorry. Are you alright?" Emma asked frantically as she dropped down beside him, hand wrapped firmly around Roger's collar.

"I'll be fine, love," he wheezed, patting her knee in reassurance. "So what flavorful concoction has you up tonight? You'll need to decide on a final menu soon, we are going shopping for ingredients tomorrow."

He wasn't particularly looking forward to battling the crowds. This was the first time he would be celebrating Thanksgiving with more than just Will for company and eating something other than Chinese food. Emma had told him her traditions had been similar until she'd met Mary Margaret and David. He'd expected to be invited to their table, at the very least, perhaps asked to provide a side dish or bottle of wine at most. Therefore he had been taken completely by surprise when Emma had insisted that they play host and that they invite nearly everyone they knew.

She had brought it up to him in passing a week or so after Halloween. He had still been riding the high of the success of the mayor's party at the time and had been open to the suggestion. Then he had slowly come to realize Emma had been serious. Cookbooks, recipe cards, boxes of matching plates, napkins, and silverware had all arrived from Amazon over the weeks leading up to Thanksgiving. Plus he had several texts from Mary Margaret asking how many people they were expecting and even some from David offering to bring extra chairs. Killian felt very much like he missed a conversation or two with Emma where he had agreed to the madness.

Despite all that and his trepidation at all that was involved he didn't want to disappoint Emma. He could tell she was excited and that was what mattered most.

"I'm not really- I mean, I was just looking," Emma said avoiding his gaze as she buried her face in Roger's fur.

Bemused Killian lifted his head to look at her computer. She hadn't paused the video when she accidentally attacked him and he could see a pair of hands delicately twisting strips of pie crust into intricate designs atop what looked to be like an apple pie. He snorted in amusement and then grunted as Emma poked him in the side.

"Easy there, Swan. A man can only take so many jabs to his person before he begins to wonder if he's turned into a punching bag," he said as he sat up. Pushing Roger gently out of the way he peered at Emma closely, "Now, is there a reason you're watching videos about pies? I believe Mary Margaret is making no less than four of them to bring over, even an apple one per Regina's request."

"I know," she huffed, picking at a hole in the knee of her sleep pants. "I was just thinking that it wouldn't hurt to have one or two more? There's so many people coming."

Killian sighed. It had been her excuse every night for the past week when he'd sought her out after waking alone in their bed. She hadn't taken on a new case at work and he knew it was so she could spend all her time planning and preparing for the day. The final guest tally was at eight, ten including them, and while everyone invited had all been at their apartment for a meal before this would be the first time they would all be there at once. He was beginning to wonder if perhaps he should be more concerned about what their hosting duties should entail.

"If you feel that we need to make some pies then I won't argue with you but Mary Margaret knows how many people are attending and she's an old hand at feeding a crowd. Regina said she'd bring the wine, Ruby and Mulan are providing the green bean casserole-" he shuddered in exaggerated distaste and was happy to see Emma begin to relax, "- and Will promised to keep his mouth shut for at least ten minutes. That alone should make for a wonderful gathering."

Emma laughed and Killian grinned. She shook her head at him as she heaved herself off the floor and walked over to the table. He watched quietly as she went about closing all the programs she had open on her computer and shut it down. When it was done she turned around and offered his her hand which he took eagerly.

"Fine, no pies," she grunted as she helped him off the floor. "I still want to try that dinner roll recipe I found."

"Alright, love," he said squeezing her hand. "As long as you'll still allow me to buy some premade ones as backup."

"Sure, we can always use them to shut Will up if we need to," she said with a sly smile.

"Always thinking ahead," he said shaking his head. He pulled her close and ducked his head to murmur in her ear, "Shall we go to bed?"

"Yeah, we need to get up early to beat the crowds," she whispered back.

Killian groaned and dropped his head to her shoulder, "Not quite what I had in mind, love."

"I know," she said softly. Then she reached down and squeezed his ass, "Which means you need to work fast."

"I'll take that as a challenge, Swan," he growled, nipping at her neck.

Without warning he dipped down and heaved her over his shoulder. As he made his way to the bedroom, Emma giggling madly and Roger bouncing at his heels, all thoughts of Thanksgiving dinner vacated his mind.

Killian hated crowds, almost as much as he hated grocery shopping. Despite Emma's urging the night before they'd had a late start, not leaving the apartment until almost noon. As a result they were stuck navigating the aisles of the market with what felt like half the population of Boston along with a quarter of the crying babies in the city as well. He knew most of the irritation he was feeling was due to the fact that he hadn't eaten anything since his bagel at breakfast but he still couldn't help gripping the handle of the shopping cart with extra force when it was once again jostled by an inattentive housewife.

"-here and I'll get the herbs," Emma said, pulling his thoughts away from 'accidentally' ramming his cart into the one that had just cut him off.

"What?"

Emma rolled her eyes at him, "Just wait here."

With that she slipped neatly through the crowd, unencumbered by a cart as he was. Unfortunately he had come to a stop right in front of a display of ingredients for stuffing. After the fifth person leaned over his cart to grab several boxes of cornbread mix he'd had enough. He couldn't see Emma but figured the store wasn't that big and slowly made his way to an aisle that looked relatively clear. Apparently soaps and lotions weren't all that in demand for the holiday.

He wasn't the only one with the same idea as he exchanged weary looks of commiseration with the few other shoppers loitering down the aisle. Figuring he could at least get some work done he pulled out his phone and started going through emails. Christmas and New Year's Eve were still over a month away but the hosts of the parties that had been booked were already sending him their requests. With Jamie on vacation for the week he had to sift through the nonsensical demands to get to the feasible ones on his own. Reading through them didn't help settle his irritation.

"There you are!"

Killian looked up from a particularly vexing email to see Emma staggering towards him. Her arms were full of various items from their list and more. She dumped them into the cart with a sigh of relief and glared at him.

"You have a phone, Swan, you could have texted me to discern my whereabouts," he said, rolling his eyes as he went back to the email.

"Maybe if I had a third arm," she said, clearly annoyed with him. "I told you to wait there."

He glanced up at her frowning, "And I would have if I hadn't been standing in the way of every Tom, Dick and Harriet that wanted some damn cornbread. Did you get everything we need?"

"No, I still need to get the vegetables and we need to pick a turkey," Emma snapped.

"I'd personally prefer one that's been killed and plucked for me but I don't want to be too particular where the bird is concerned," he said sardonically.

"Seriously?" Emma hissed, anger sparking in her eyes. "You know what? I don't have time for this, Killian, just go wait in the car."

"What?" He asked, startled.

"You're obviously in a shitty mood and don't want to be here. I can get the rest of the stuff on my own since you don't care either way."

"Wait, Emma, I didn't mean-"

"And I don't care right now," she said resignedly as she pushed the cart out from under his unresisting hands. "I'll see you in a half hour or so."

Killian called after her but she ignored him as she turned the corner at the end of the aisle. Ignoring the curious stares of the people who had witnessed their little spat he spun on his heel and stalked out of the store. He barely made it twenty feet from the door before he realized he'd been a bit of an idiot and a jerk to boot. Taking a fortifying breath he turned right back around and waded back through the crowd, making a slight detour before heading towards the produce department.

He found Emma standing in front of the potatoes, her hand curled protectively around the edge of the cart as she used the other to pick through the tubers. Without a word he came up to her side and handed her half of the sandwich he had bought at the deli counter. She looked up at him with her eyes narrowed before taking a bite.

"I'm sorry for being a prat, Swan," he said, infusing as much sincerity into the words as he could before taking a rather large bite from his half of the sandwich. He was exceedingly hungry after all.

"I'm sorry too," she sighed, wiping at the corner of his mouth with her thumb. She licked at the dab of mustard she'd wiped off, "I didn't think it'd be this bad and we left way later than I wanted to."

"How were we supposed to know? This being our first attempt at Thanksgiving and all. Although why Mary Margaret didn't see fit to warn us is beyond me," Killian mused as he took another bite and glanced exaggeratedly at the sea of people around them.

"She did," Emma said sheepishly, sounding almost like she was asking a question. "I just didn't believe her."

"Oh, really Swan? How dare you lure me here unknowing of what trials awaited me," he teased with a wink.

"Please, this isn't nearly as bad as that Sox game you made me go to when the Yankees were in town," she shuddered dramatically. "I didn't think I'd live to see the seventh inning stretch."

"You were the one who chose to wear the colors of the enemy in the midst of a sea of red, love. I did warn you where our seats were and who had gifted them to us," Killian reminded her.

She stuck out her tongue at him and he retaliated with a gentle hip bump. They finished their impromptu lunch quietly as people shuffled around and often times in between them but Killian knew all had been forgiven. When Emma grabbed several potatoes without thoroughly inspecting them he realized she also wanted to be out of there as much as he did.

"Shall we divide up the rest of the list, love? I'll tackle the vegetables while you choose the bird?" He held his hand out for the paper she'd been consulting down every aisle and watched bemused as she crumpled it in her fist.

"We just need to get the turkey," she said sheepishly. "I may have gone all Supermarket Sweep after I left you."

"Supermarket Sweep?" He asked confused.

"It's a show where people run through- you know what? Nevermind, I'll explain later. We really need to get that turkey and get out of here," Emma stepped behind the cart, squaring her shoulders as though she was about to wade into battle.

"Right, what exactly are we looking for?" Killian asked as he followed closely on the path she was making.

"Well, everything I read said to have at least one and half to two pounds for every person attending. So we'll need at least a twenty-two pound bird," Emma said over her shoulder.

"Then we should merely look for a twenty pound one, Swan," he said, almost stopping in his tracks but quickly thought better of it.

"We, uh, should get a bigger one for leftovers."

He thought he heard her hesitate, as though she were choosing her words carefully but couldn't for the life of him figure out why she would need to do that. Shrugging his shoulders despite the fact that she couldn't see him he followed along and hoped that they would quickly find what they were looking for so they could spend an eternity in line before finally escaping.

Over the next twenty-four hours he realized despite everything he'd seen from Emma so far it had been nothing compared to the figure of stress she devolved into once they arrived home from the market. She had him cleaning areas of the apartment he was sure their guests would never set eyes on while she prepped what dishes she could ahead of time. He did it with mild complaint seeing that even if he wasn't entirely hopeless in the kitchen Emma clearly wanted to keep everything under her control until his help was absolutely needed. Even poor Roger became caught up in the madness when Emma informed him that she'd made a grooming appointment for her. Killian was somewhat relieved to take Roger to it, as it gave him a much needed respite from the maelstrom that was Emma Swan in preparation mode.

The next morning dawned clear and bright and from the moment Killian returned from his run with Roger he was once again recruited to assist Emma. He peeled potatoes, crushed herbs, measured an unending amount of ingredients, stirred dozens of concoctions, and occasionally had to remind Emma to breath. It was only when they had less than an hour before their guests were to arrive that she seemed to notice he was still in his running clothes. Without ceremony she shoved him out of the kitchen and warned him to dress nice, ignoring him when he joked that his birthday suit would do nicely. Chuckling to himself he called Roger to follow him, he saw no need for the poor girl to be scolded should she get underfoot in his absence.

Emerging from the bedroom showered and fully dressed despite his teasing he found Roger lying with her head on her paws at the unseen border between the hallway and the rest of the apartment. He knelt down to ruffle the fur at the top of her head and saw exactly why she hadn't ventured further.

All the chairs from the kitchen table were lined up against the back of the couch along with the ones that belonged to Emma they had pulled out of storage earlier in the week. Emma herself was standing at one end of the table, her hands planted on the surface, as she scowled down the length of it. Then without warning she pushed away from it and disappeared into the kitchen muttering to herself.

"Swan?" He called out, still crouched low beside Roger.

"Oh, Killian, good," she popped her head out of the kitchen and looked around confused before catching sight of him. "What are you doing down there? I need you to do that thing with the table or else we won't fit everyone."

"Consider it done, love, but I have a request of my own," he said as he stood and before she could disappear into the kitchen again.

"What?" She huffed impatiently, blowing a strand of hair out of her face.

He smiled gently, "Our guests will be here in just a few minutes, if they're on time at all. All I ask is that you take a seat, relax a bit before they get here. Possibly take those rolly things out of your hair."

Emma's hand floated to her head where there were giant rollers doing their magic to her neatly pinned up locks. She looked at him in horror before rushing past him to their bedroom.

"Forget the table just make sure nothing burns!" She yelled at him, causing him to shake his head at Roger.

When she emerged ten minutes later he had not only expanded the table but arranged the chairs and kept everything from becoming even remotely scorched. She thanked him profusely, pressing a kiss to his cheek that was sure to leave a mark from her freshly applied lipstick. He found he didn't mind as a knock sounded at the door and she turned to him with wide, nervous eyes.

"Showtime, Swan."

With that they were off. Mary Margaret and David arrived first carrying pies and chairs respectively. Soon after Will and his girlfriend Belle were at their doorstep, followed closely by Regina and Robin. Ruby and Mulan came last, apologizing profusely and shoving a casserole dish into his arms as they entered the apartment to greet everyone else.

Without fanfare they fell into the same pattern that occurred whenever they got together as a group. The women stayed close to the kitchen, helping Emma with the cooking and glaring at any of the men that wandered in and interrupted their conversation. David and Robin quickly took over his television arguing over whether to watch the American football game or a replay of a Premier League match that Robin had noticed as David had been scanning through the channels.

Killian stayed out of it as he struck up a conversation with Will and Belle. It was the first time Will had been invited to a gathering with all of Emma's friends at once and the first time he'd brought Belle along to any kind of gathering at all. While he'd met her before Killian hadn't had the chance to have a full conversation with her. She was a foreigner, from Australia rather than England like Will, Robin, and himself, but she'd lived in the States for far longer than any of them. That along with her job at the Boston Public Library meant she was a wellspring of information about the holiday and easily ruffled by his and Will's teasing her with feigned ignorance.

Twenty minutes before the food was ready Killian decided to take Roger for a short walk. Once the food was served and the alcohol really started flowing he was certain that she'd be unintentionally neglected. As he pulled on his coat Mary Margaret appeared at his side.

"Killian, I just wanted to say how nice it is that you've been so understanding," she said with a smile.

"Understanding?" He asked confused. "It was Emma's idea to play host. I've just tried to help out where I could and stepped out of the way when I couldn't."

"Oh, I didn't mean-" Mary Margaret suddenly looked uncomfortable. "She didn't tell you did she?"

"Tell me what?" He tried to give her an encouraging smile but he suddenly felt nauseous.

"That she invited Neal, um, that Neal-" Mary Margaret winced, "I shouldn't have said anything."

"No, no, I'm glad you did," Killian said through numb lips. He grabbed Roger's leash and she immediately bounded over, "If you'll excuse me, love, I need to take Roger out to do some business."

Mary Margaret let him go but he suspected she'd immediately tell Emma what she'd done. He found he didn't mind, he wasn't even truly mad. Stepping into the weak November sunlight he realized he was more upset that Emma felt that she hadn't needed to tell him at all. Not to warn him or ask how he would feel about it or even mention that she had run into the man at all, nothing.

He and Roger had only walked half a block before he heard the sound of someone running after him. With a bolstering breath he stopped and turned to watch Emma approach. Despite his feelings on the matter at hand he couldn't help but be concerned about how she'd come after him without grabbing a coat first.

"Killian, I'm sorry," she said as soon as she reached him. "I meant to tell you."

"That you were talking to the man that you said ruined your life or that you invited him to our home without mentioning it to me at any point," Killian said resigned.

"It's not like that," Emma reached for him but he stepped back. "You don't need to be jealous."

"I'm not jealous, Emma," he ground out, the accusation angering him more than her deception. "I'm- I'm upset. Disappointed that you felt you had to hide whatever is going on. I trust you Emma, I do, but it feels like you're the one that doesn't trust me and I don't- I don't know."

He trailed off, truly not knowing what else to say. There was no doubt in his mind that no matter what was going on with Emma and Neal that she hadn't cheated or wronged him in any way. She hadn't lied but she hadn't seen fit to tell him anything either. He wondered if she had been planning to tell him anything at all or if he would have opened their door to find a stranger who had more of a past with his love than he did.

Emma hadn't told him everything that had happened between her and Neal at first. She would make offhanded comments about good for nothing exes or jaded quips about being left behind. As weeks and months passed and they grew closer together he'd found out more of the story in bits and pieces: the running, the hiding, her self proclaimed naive but utter devotion to the first man she'd ever loved. It was only after she'd moved in with him, late one night, that she'd told him the rest. She hadn't cried but it had been a near thing as she whispered to him how Neal had set her up over stolen watches and she'd spent a year in jail for his crime. Killian had lain awake holding her long after she had fallen asleep, promising himself that he'd never hurt her so deeply.

That, he realized, was why he didn't know what to say or how to feel. He didn't understand how she could forgive and forget so easily.

"Nothing is going on," Emma said emphatically. She reached for him again and he let her grasp his arm in a vice like grip, "I haven't been talking to him, not really. I ran into him when I went to New York for that case."

"The one after Halloween?"

"Yeah, I was still kinda dealing with the whole meeting Milah thing and I went to get a drink at a bar I used to go to when I lived there. I literally ran into him, almost spilled my drink over him-" Emma squeezed his arm a fraction more, "-and his wife. They were there celebrating their anniversary but they live here, in Boston."

She let him absorb that information before continuing, "I wanted to punch him in the face and I really, really wanted you to be there with me. They invited me to their table and I just couldn't say no. I was curious, how he'd been since I'd last seen him, if he felt bad at all about what he did to me, everything I guess. He was just so goddamn happy, grinning and flaunting his oh so great life and I just invited them to come over for Thanksgiving. I don't know why I did it or what the hell I was thinking."

"That's why you wanted us to play host, why you've been so focused on this," Killian breathed in understanding. He looked up at the grey sky before looking back at her, "You wanted to prove to him that you had moved on too."

"I want him to see that he didn't break me," she said in a small voice, tears gathering in her eyes.

"Oh, Emma."

Killian gathered her in his arms. She was shaking but he wasn't sure if it was more from her silent crying or the fact that it was only fifty degrees out and she was wearing a filmy cream top and a knee length skirt that could hardly be keeping her warm. Letting her go for only a moment he unzipped his jacket and guided her arms around his waist underneath it, holding it closed around them both.

"I'm sorry," Emma whispered into his collarbone.

"I just wish you had told me sooner," he sighed into her hair. She smelled like a mixture of her shampoo and the herbs they'd used to season the turkey, "How did you expect me to act like the perfect boyfriend without advanced warning?"

"You don't need to act like one-" she said as she looked up at him, her nose nudging his chin, "-you're pretty perfect already."

"Don't try to flatter me into agreeing to go along with your ludicrous plan to try and one up your ex," he said sternly only to grin as she pouted up at him. "I would have done it because you did it for me with Milah and because I love you."

"I love you too and I really am sorry I didn't talk to you about it. I'm also sorry I went a little crazy with the whole hosting Thanksgiving thing."

"You're forgiven, love, and while I'm sure Mary Margaret is conducting things admirably in our absence we should probably head back seeing as we are the hosts. I believe Roger's had enough of being out here in the cold as much as we are."

Killian gave Emma a smile that she easily reciprocated. He stepped back from her and quickly shed his jacket, draping it over her shoulders. She hummed in appreciation and held her hand out to him. Gladly taking it he let her lead them back to the apartment where their friends, and their food, were waiting.

The meal was a complete success. Everyone praised their efforts and he could see a pleased flush warming Emma's cheeks. Killian waved off the compliments, insisting that it was all Emma's doing and stating that he had severely underestimated Mary Margaret's prowess as a consummate hostess time and again. Both women smiled widely at him, Emma giving him a kiss on the cheek as she stood to grab another bottle of wine.

By the time the dirty plates and serving platters had been cleared Killian had almost convinced himself that Neal wouldn't appear at all. He was elbow deep in dishwater when he heard a knock at their door. Emma had frozen upon hearing it, nearly dropping the glass Will had handed her after he'd dried it. She looked at him with wide apologetic eyes.

"Go on and get it, love. They're here just in time for pie," he said giving her an encouraging nod.

"From the look on your face I'm bettin' it's not bloody carolers at the door," Will said once Emma left the kitchen.

"Not exactly," Killian said begrudgingly as he focused back on washing dishes pretending that he wasn't straining to hear every word coming from the entrance hall.

"Well, who is it then?"

Killian looked quickly to the doorway, making sure they were alone before abandoning the dishes altogether. Will had been there when he'd been nearly destroyed by Milah, both emotionally and financially, and there was no one he trusted more to have his back. Even when it meant Will's tendency to speak before he thought better of his words had lead to more fistfights than understandings.

"Emma's ex and his wife," Killian said in a low tone. "She saw them in New York and invited them over. It's the whole bloody reason she said we'd host apparently."

"Is she mental? Are you?" Will burst out.

"Quiet you idiot," Killian hissed, earning himself a glare. "We've talked about it and I understand why she did it."

"But you're not happy about it," Will said through narrowed eyes.

"Of course I'm not but Emma helped me more than she knows when we saw Milah. The least I could do is return the favor."

"I admire your altruistic tendency here but, bloody hell mate, this can't go over well! Did anyone else know he'd be here?"

"Mary Margaret-" Killian quickly grabbed a towel to dry his hands, suddenly needing to be by Emma's side. "I'm sure David knows as well, his wife can't keep a secret. As for the others if they didn't know he'd be here they do know his name, I can guarantee you that."

"Bloody hell," Will repeated.

Killian tossed the towel back at Will and walked as calmly as he could out to where he could hear a quiet murmur of voices. Everyone was gathered by the table again, Mary Margaret's pies lined up down the center, but their focus was on the couple that had entered their midst. He hadn't known what to expect but he was caught by surprise to see a somewhat unremarkable man smiling nervously as he was introduced to Emma's friends.

Neal was older, and shorter, than Killian had been picturing. His brown hair was liberally speckled with grey as was the goatee he was sporting. Underneath his nerves Neal had the look of someone who had lived a hard life and had only recently found redemption. Killian suspected it had a lot to do with the smiling woman at his side.

"Killian!" Emma called to him, her voice slightly higher pitched in what he recognized as close to panicking. "I'd like you to meet Neal and his wife Tamara."

He strode over, reminding himself that it wasn't a pissing contest. Emma was with him, Neal was married, but just like Emma staking her claim when she had met Milah he found himself squeezing the other man's hand more force than necessary as they shook. Neal, for his part, didn't wince or try to crush Killian's hand in return and Killian begrudgingly admired him for that.

With a touch more good will he greeted Tamara. She smiled at him warmly and complimented him on his home and thanked him for inviting them. Her dark cheeks were flushed from the cold and he realized they were still wearing their coats.

"Where are my manners? I'll take your coats, we were just about to have some of Mary Margaret's delicious pies," he smiled at Neal and Tamara and then at Emma who smiled tremulously back. "That is, if you'd like to stay."

"That would be wonderful," Tamara said as she unwrapped the scarf around her throat. "It's our first Thanksgiving since we got married and we've just been hopping around between different friend's parties. I will say that these pies look way better than any of the others we've seen today."

"Oh, thank you," Mary Margaret said with surprise. She had been staring at Neal who had been removing his own coat, "I, uh, hope you don't have any allergies, Killian's one for walnuts has changed the way all of us cook."

"Hey," he said with mock offense, "I'll have you know that I've rarely touched an apple since I've met you and your husband. At least my aversion is for a legitimate medical reason."

"No allergies here," Tamara assured them handing Killian her and Neal's coats.

"Excellent-" he nodded to the table, "-have a seat everyone. I'll be back in a mo'."

Gentle chatter broke out behind him as he walked to the bedroom to stow the coats. He liked Tamara well enough but he was still unsure about Neal. The man hadn't said more than two words once Killian had left the kitchen.

"Please tell me it's not as awkward as I think it is."

Killian jumped slightly at hearing Emma's voice behind him. He turned to look at her and saw her fiddling nervously with the hem of her blouse.

"You've invited the man who sent you to jail and broke your heart to meet all your friends who know at least some part of the story, if not all, and the man you're currently shacked up with. If it wasn't awkward in some regard I'd be suspicious," he said lightly as he tossed the coats onto the bed.

"God, this was a mistake," Emma sighed.

"Perhaps-" he shrugged, "-but I think it's also something you felt you needed to do. Either way I'm by your side, love."

To prove his point he approached her and bent to give her a light kiss. Deepening it she hummed appreciatively as he tangled their hands together.

"Good," she said a bit breathlessly when they broke apart.

"We need to get back out there. Will might not be able to hold his tongue for very long."

"Yeah, well I put my money on Regina saying something first."

"Care to wager on that?" He asked, lifting his brow in challenge.

"Absolutely," Emma grinned. "Loser does the rest of the dishes, no help."

"You're on, Swan," he agreed, sealing their bet with a kiss. "Shall we?"

When they rejoined everyone the tension in the room was tangible. David, Regina and Will were glaring openly at Neal. Everyone else was obviously trying very hard to keep a civil conversation going. A collective sigh of relief went through everyone when he and Emma sat at the table.

"So, Neal, what's your line of work?" Killian said genially, earning a smile of approval from Emma.

"I, er, work at my father's antiques store," Neal shot a look at Emma, "He's getting ready to retire and I'll be taking over for him."

"You made up?" Emma blurted out and then flushed bright red.

"Uh, yeah, about two years ago I came back to Boston. I met Tamara-" Neal squeezed his wife's hand, "-and she eventually convinced me to talk to him. It was a lot of fighting at first but we've come around."

"That's great, Neal," Emma said sincerely. She looked at Tamara, "You're a better influence on him than I was."

"A much better one than he was for you, Emma," David growled.

Killian choked on the piece of pumpkin pie he had just attempted to swallow. He wasn't the only one caught off guard by David's remark: Ruby snorted indelicately into her wine, Mary Margaret's fork scraped noisily against the plate, and Regina broke into a coughing fit that had Robin thumping her soundly on the back. Emma's face was pale but not as pale as Neal's.

"Look, man, I was young and stupid. I never meant to hurt her," Neal said sincerely, keeping his gaze steadily on David.

Killian was watching Emma closely. She closed her eyes briefly and when she opened them she immediately looked at him. He gave her a bolstering smile and nod, as he couldn't take her hand in support from the other side of the long table.

"But you did," David said bluntly.

"David!" Mary Margaret exclaimed.

"That's enough, David, it's in the past," Emma said tightly at the same time. She looked at Killian as she continued, "We both made mistakes but we've moved on, we're better people now."

David had the decency to look contrite as an uneasy silence fell over the table.

"Now that that's out of the way can you bloody Americans please tell me why Belle is insisting we get up at the bloody crack of dawn for a tv tomorrow?"

Will's question broke through the tension like a hammer through a sheet of ice as the table erupted in laughter. Killian shot him a look of gratitude which was received with a knowing nod.

After that the conversation flowed somewhat easily. Yet it was clear that while Tamara was enjoying herself neither Neal nor Emma had truly relaxed and it was with great relief when the married couple left after their pieces of pie were finished. Not long after the rest of guests departed, reluctant to leave them with the cleanup but full and assuring them they'd had an enjoyable time. Then it was just him, Emma and Roger left and he sighed in relief that it was over.

"So who's doing the dishes? David was an unexpected dark horse," Emma said wryly as she wrapped her arms around him from behind.

"Looks as if we're both losers in this one, love," Killian said patting her hands where they were linked at his waist. "I'll wash, you dry?"

"Deal."

Cleanup went smoothly and quietly. He knew he was reflecting on all that had happened and figured Emma was too. They moved seamlessly through their kitchen, putting away the dried dishes, placing leftovers in various containers and then packing them into their over stuffed fridge. At the end of it they collapsed exhausted on their couch, Roger curled up on the floor below.

"If we do this next year, Swan, we'll need to buy a bigger fridge," he said tiredly.

"I'm hoping we'll be in a bigger place by then too," she responded.

"Adding a large dining room to the list then, love?" He asked as he squeezed her shoulder.

"That and a big ass kitchen. I don't want to be elbowing you every five seconds while trying to chop vegetables."

"Neal's visit went better than expected," he said casually.

"No one killed him if that's what you mean," she responded dryly. "But, yeah, it went okay."

"Are you alright?" Killian twisted himself to look at her and found that she seemed tired but untroubled.

"I'm okay. It wasn't as horrible as I'd built it up to be in my head. Awkward for sure but not terrible," she looked up at him and smiled. "Thank you for not being mad and for not breaking his nose."

"I'll admit that I've wanted to do exactly that since I realized that someone had hurt you deeply. But I'm glad you seemed to have gotten the same closure I did with Milah."

"I think I did," Emma said wonderingly. She gave him a brilliant smile, "Come on, let's go to bed. I feel like I could sleep for a week."

"I'll be right by your side for it, love," he said as he stood and pulled her up with him. "Although, we might have to get up to beat Will to that television."

"Ugh, don't even joke about that," she said, hitting him lightly on the chest. "Come on, time to sleep and then more sleep."

"Surely we can pencil in something a bit more exciting in the middle there," he said waggling his eyebrows.

"As soon as I don't feel like I'm going to throw up or roll off the bed you bet your ass we can," she said with a wide smile. As they passed the table with it's multitude of chairs she paused, "Ugh, we'll need to find time to take those back to storage."

"I can do it this weekend with Will," he assured her, steering her towards their bedroom. "You deserve a few days off from any responsibility after today."

"I won't argue with that."

Killian smiled to himself as she broke away from him to enter their bathroom. There was something he needed to get from the storage unit and it wouldn't do to have Emma there while he searched for it. His mother's ring was well buried but he knew it was finally time to pull it out from its dusty confines.

A.N.: I hope that satisfied your appetite after waking up from a food coma. This chapter was really fun to write, mostly because I work in a grocery store and I see little fights like theirs all the time. Plus I'm always up for writing protective Dave even if it's just a little nibble.

Next: Christmas