A/N: Alright, so I know I said that this might be the last chapter. Fortunately for you, it is not! I'm planning an epilogue right now that will tie up all loose ends. For now, the clock is ticking down on midnight. Who will win?

It was a half hour until midnight. And Gold could not find his cane.

It wasn't like he misplaced it—his mind wasn't a feeble, absent one like Charming's. Never had he succumbed to forgetfulness. He had placed it on the bar as he usually did. His only mistake was that he placed all his focus on Emma. She had been asking him dozens of questions about their world in comparison to how the brothers Grimm wrote it.

"So, where the hell did the Fairy Godmother come from? In this story, Cinderella got her dress from a tree," Emma pointed out. She grimaced as she reached the end of the story. Ironically, the tale of Cinderella was one of the more gruesome ones.

"In our world, Cinderella's fairy godmother experienced some….digestive issues that night. Her stomach exploded," he explained with a small smile. Along with the rest of her, he thought. He nearly fell out of a tree with laughter after the good fairy burst into little golden sparkles. "Believe it or not, I took her place."

Emma leaned back in her seat to examine his full figure. She looked slightly perturbed.

"You were Cinderella's fairy godmother?" A tiny string of euphoria threatened to slip from her lips.

He frowned and wondered if she was imagining him chanting something idiotic like Bibbity Bobbity Boo. Who in their right mind would go around spouting nonsense like that? How ever could you be taken seriously? People got tossed into wells for much less.

"I'll have you know that I did a fabulous job in filling in as Cinderella's godmother. That whole glass slipper detail was my doing in the first place. And I suppose you'll berate me for waving a wand, too. Well, this suspicious character Harry Potter waves a wand about and no one mocks him, do they?"

Emma stifled her humor as she flipped the page. Even though the joke was in his expense, he did like the way she smiled when she genuinely laughed. She should do it more often.

"Next you'll tell me that you're Ursula the evil sea-witch," she chuckled.

Just because he ventured down into the sea to fetch that special ink did not make him any similar to an evil octopus. Come to think of it, he had nearly drowned the first time because he couldn't breathe properly and had to give himself a pair of gills. According to Jefferson, his limbs could have been useful for propellers with the way they had flopped in the water. He even offered him swimming lessons in a "kiddie pool."

The arrogant madman.

When he turned back around, the cane was gone. Vanished into thin air. His hand even touched the bare place it had been as though it may be invisible.

"Emma…have you seen my cane?" She glanced up at him from her stool, her brow furrowing.

"Yes, Gold. You've tried to introduce me to your cane multiple times since we've met. How many times do I have to tell you: I'm not going to stand outside your shop and be a spokesperson for your cane?" She thought he was flirting again. Oh, he wished he was only flirting. This time it was a serious matter.

"No, I meant…have you seen my cane? It's not here." He insistently palmed the surface of the bar. He scanned the floor, though he knew it wouldn't have rolled off without his notice. It just wasn't here.

"Maybe it got tired of your company and rolled away to find an attractive broomstick to mingle with," she quipped. This was hardly a joke; he could barely walk fifty feet without his leg locking up. He checked under his stool, on the floor again, over the bar.

What, did someone just walk off with it?

"Did you leave it at the station? You were kind of preoccupied, remember?" He didn't need a reminder of their heated moment in her office. He had replayed it countless times in his head since then. Emma was clearly trying to help, but her pointless questions were getting him nowhere fast.

Leaping from his stool, he began to turn in circles as he searched the crowded floor for a stray cane.

"No, I had it here with me. In the car, I used it to drum along with that catchy old fellow, what's-his-name," he protested. Emma sighed. In truth, he had never really learned the name of that singer and he was curious to know, what with his taste for names. Maybe he could buy one of those CD's and play some of it in his shop.

"Phil Collins?" Gold snapped his fingers, proving her guess correct. She knew one thing for certain: Gold wouldn't make it as a drummer anytime soon. "Why don't I just go around and ask people if they've seen your cane?"

She slid off her stool and humored his loss by doing just that. The first ones she started with were the dwarves. For all he knew, they could be playing Monkey in the Middle with it. In which case, there would be several wild monkeys running about town tonight that deserved a cage in the animal shelter.

"Don't make it sound intimate," he called out to her back. The last thing he wanted was for it to seem as though he were trying to round up adoring fans for his cane. Only a few people were allowed to touch it.

It had to be here somewhere. No one would be foolish enough to take it unless they wished to require surgery to remove it later on. No one would dare. Oh, my precious, where are you? That is my special cane—I even had my initials engraved on it.

For the hundredth time, he searched along the length of the bar. And he inevitably spotted Red leaning her hip against one of the stools nearby. She casually admired her colorful nails, not paying the least bit of attention to him. Just minding her own business, was she? He sincerely doubted it.

With the flick of a switch in his mind, he knew.

"You," he hissed through furiously clenched teeth. Of course he had done incredible things tonight to ensure his chances for winning this little game. But taking his cane—and effectively limiting his resources and mobility—was crossing the line. Red looked up and innocently pointed a finger at her chest. Who, me? "Don't insult my intelligence. Where is it?"

Red's face was perfectly blank. He wondered how long she had practiced such a thing in the mirror.

"Where is what? Your conscience? Sorry, Jiminy's off duty," she taunted recklessly. He simply knew she was enjoying this. His fingers curled into his palms to show his displeasure. As he drew nearer, Red took a careful step backward until her bottom nudged the next stool.

"Where is what?" He placed his fingers under his chin and mimicked her in a sickly sweet imitation. It seemed to unnerve her a bit, which only made him more confident. "My cane," he growled.

Red craned her neck away from his face, but he merely reached out to grasp her chin. He forced her to look at him straight-on. There was no way she was getting out of this one.

"Oh, your cane," she played along, sounding out the word with extra emphasis. His fingers tightened over her chin. From the flash of alarm in her eyes, he could tell she was growing wary about what he might do. As well she should. "Haven't seen it. Who's the last person you impaled on it?"

His leer was deathly cold, showing no mercy as it roved her face. Her resolute mask was cracking into shards. He knew she had taken it; the only question was where she hid it. It couldn't be too far away, with the minimal time it must have been gone. He was sure his hand had touched it while talking to Emma about Cinderella's godmother.

"You have a lot of nerve to take my cane, dearie," he muttered. She scrunched her nose and made a show of waving her hand in front of her face. Now she was poking fun at his breath? Her boyfriend's had been considerably worse, hence the terrible use of huffing and puffing. She whipped her head from his hand and stumbled away.

"What's the matter? You can dish it, but you can't take it? You play these pranks on people all night and when I have the gall to do it, you get angry? Or is it because you're afraid you won't be able to follow Emma around like a puppy dog?" She was lucky to have thought about putting the rule of no magic on the list. "I think Granny might know where your cane is."

Before he could open his mouth to interrogate her on that subject, there came a monstrous growl that was far beyond any he had made before. It was the ferocious roar of the Man-Eating Granny. Hardly anyone had ever slayed it before.

"Rumpelstiltskin!" He was almost afraid to turn around, especially when Red glanced at something over his shoulder. Pounding footsteps erupted toward him as Granny burst through the crowd. Perhaps they should have left her in the net. "Does this belong to you?"

In her hand was the missing cane. She could poke an eye out with that thing if she didn't quit waving it over her head. He would have preferred to pass the blame over to someone else, but he was the only one who owned a cane in this town. Licking his lips uncertainly, he extended his hand for it. Granny thrust it painfully into his chest.

"It was tied to a string. The string was taped to my back! I had your miserable cane skating behind me for five minutes before Emma alerted me to it. If this is your way of inferring the pleasures of your cane, this old woman is not interested," she barked. Any minute now he expected her gray hair to curl like Medusa's snakes. "And just for that stunt, I think I'll charge you extra on the hot fudge sundaes, too."

Oh, no. Not the sundaes. Those were his guilty pleasure. The tacky ice cream parlor across from his shop just didn't make it like Granny did. For one thing, they didn't know the value of extra chocolate sauce. He clutched at his cane in dismay.

"If I were to charm you with the pleasures of my cane, woman, I wouldn't have been content with tying it to a string. I assure you….you would be weak at the knees for days," he dared to retort.

Everyone in the crowd made soft gasps at his bravado, but Granny wasn't impressed. Wringing her hand back, she landed a sharp slap across his jaw. The impact made him stumble back like he'd been hit with a cannonball and he toppled into Red's arms. He wished it had been Emma's. But then she was also giving him a dark look.

Was it a bad thing that he was seeing stars spinning in front of his eyes?

"You're lucky it's New Year's Eve. Otherwise, I would be more than happy to ban you from this diner," Granny screeched before whirling on her heel. Slowly, the crowd returned to their previous activities, if only to avoid being threatened to be turned into snails by a raging magician. Gold unsteadily regained his composure and rubbed his aching jaw.

Red bit down on her lip to hide the quirk of her victorious grin.

"Cheer up. Granny only slaps men she really likes," Red teased.

First she took his cane. Then she caused him to have a bitter confrontation with Granny, which earned him a brutal slap and a reduction of hot fudge sundaes in his future. He narrowed his eyes at the sultry waitress as she sought out Archie.

She may have won this battle…but she would lose the war.

….

It was fortune in itself that Archie's office was located almost directly across the street from the diner. Even more fascinating, it was ridiculously easy to gain access inside the office. This town could use improved security considering the fact that all he used was a credit card. He kept his plan firmly in mind as the door swung inward.

This was strictly business now—the time for playing games was over. If Red wanted to play dirty, then so be it. He was rather skilled in that field himself.

The office was dim, with only the moonlight washing over the floorboards from the window. The peaceful chirping of crickets rose from the open tank on the ledge, the room smelled suspiciously of Febreeze, and the trash was obnoxiously overflowing with tissues. Pongo lifted his head from his bed in the corner and cocked an ear.

"Come here, boy," Gold knelt on one knee and called out to the Dalmatian using his "friendly" voice.

In a shot, the dog bounded forward and eagerly accepted the doggie treat that he pulled out of his suit pocket. He always carried one in case he passed Archie walking Pongo on the street. It was purely for insurance; someday he might need to use Pongo for his benefit.

That day was today. If it wasn't for the pleasure of vanilla wafers, Gold might think Pongo actually liked him. He obviously didn't consider Gold an immediate threat if he was content with lapping up that cookie instead.

Rising to his feet, he checked around and found Pongo's leash on Archie's desk. Out of curiosity, his eyes scanned the rest of the desk for anything of interest. It would be so much fun to sift through the patient files and read about all the reasons for people attending therapy—most of them probably attending due to stress over rent-but there was no time.

Clipping Pongo's leash to his collar, he waited until the dog was finished licking up the stray crumbs on his bed before urging the dog to the door. It was impossible to move him otherwise—dogs could be so stubborn when it was most inconvenient. Pongo sniffed Gold's pocket, silently begging for another. He would get one at the diner, if he was good.

"We're going for a little stroll."

…

It took him no more than ten minutes to get ahold of Pongo and lead him to the diner. It would have been less than that if Pongo hadn't kept sticking his black nose into Gold's pocket every five seconds. The dog did it slowly each time—he was starting to think Pongo was working on sneaking it out of his pocket.

"Oh, have it, then," Gold relented fitfully. The dog seemed rather pleased with himself. Honestly, what was Archie teaching this thing?

Outside the diner, Gold carefully edged the door open with his cane. Thankfully, the too-loud karaoke music overrode the chime of the bell and no one noticed. At the edge of the crowd stood Miss Ginger, her mouth arranged in a sour pout as the dwarves tried to get a round of the Macarena going.

She never did like Pongo much.

The dog in question must have caught her scent since he instantly set his sights on her. He tried to move forward, but Gold held his leash fast. This was going to be fun. This would certainly take Archie's attention away from Red indefinitely. And with merely fifteen minutes or so until midnight, she might miss out on that kiss.

"Go get her, boy," Gold murmured softly to the dog.

In one swift motion, he unclipped the dog's leash, freeing him. Pongo was off, bounding into the diner like a rocket and charging straight for his old friend, Miss Ginger. It took a moment for everyone to realize there was a dog loose in the diner and even longer for Miss Ginger to spot Pongo racing toward her.

A blood-curdling scream erupted through the diner as Pongo crashed through the crowd, aiming for the old bat. She scrambled up onto a stool in an attempt to get away from him, but the dog simply lunged up with her. Pongo landed squarely on Miss Ginger's stomach and held her down as he bombarded her face with his hot breath.

Gold figured she had a secret admirer.

"Someone help me! Do I look like a Scooby Snack?" Pongo offered Miss Ginger a generous lick to the face, as though testing out that theory.

Grumpy stepped forward with his arms outstretched. Gold readily anticipated himself for Act Two of this little play. If only he had some popcorn in his pocket.

"I've got him, sister," Grumpy announced and rushed at Pongo.

He tried to grab him, but Pongo ducked around the dwarf. He jumped up on the bar and proceeded to dash across it, knocking glasses and bowls to the floor. Gold didn't know which was funnier—the dog using the bar as a runway, or Grumpy chasing right behind him and breaking all the goods that Pongo miraculously missed.

"Someone control that dog," Granny shouted over the laughing crowd as Pongo remained free of Grumpy's grasp. Which one?

The crowd split apart to reveal a frantic Archie. Whatever he and Red were doing together must have been incredibly rough as his clothing was a bit disheveled.

"Pongo, down!"

Immediately, Pongo caught the sound of Archie's command and leaped off the bar. For added measure, he sat himself obediently in the center of the diner. Miss Ginger scurried as far away from him as she could. Archie hurried to Pongo and latched onto his collar.

"How did you get out of my office?"

Gold dumped Pongo's leash into the trash and quietly slipped among the crowd, becoming invisible to Archie's speculation. He was tempted to whistle innocently, but feared that might not be quite so subtle.

Archie shook his head in exasperation and guided Pongo to the door, apologizing sincerely to both Miss Ginger and Granny as he passed.

"Archie, wait. Please, don't go. It's almost midnight," Red hastily followed behind him and caught his hand. Her eyes pleaded insistently with him. Remorse clouded behind Archie's glasses and he loosened his hand from Red's.

"Red, I'm sorry. I have to bring Pongo back to my office and make sure the door is locked this time. He can't stay here," he explained. Red's shoulders slumped with disappointment. As a last minute thought, Archie brought his hand to Red's shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly. "I'll try to be back before midnight," he promised. Gold easily read the doubt spiraling across Red's face.

Then Archie was gone, the tiny bell dismissing him from the diner with Pongo in tow. The party gradually kicked back into rhythm after the unexpected sideshow, but Red stared forlornly at the diner's door as she struggled to understand what just happened. That was the look of one with a broken heart, indeed.

As she turned away, she noticed Gold watching her. Never had he earned such a scalding glare from anyone in Storybrooke, including the Queen. That black expression declared retaliation; it vowed that Red would get her revenge for such a petty trick. He audibly scoffed and showed her his back.

You have no cards left in your deck, dearie. Revenge? I'd love to see you try.

His confidence restored, he ventured off to the kitchen to freshen up for Emma.

…..

For possibly the thousandth time, Red glanced up at the diner door. Each time, she was sorely disappointed to see that it was still and held no sign of Archie. She strained her ears just in case there might be the soft ringing of the bell.

She had crashed from the highest point of certain victory to the lows of defeat. How could she win if Archie wasn't here to kiss her at midnight? Cinderella had more chance than she did.

Fuming, she slipped out the list of rules for the game and read them over. Stupid rules. Stupid game.

Competitive as her wolf-form was, Red had never been good at losing. Something inside her was tempted to rip this list to shreds if only to take out her anger. But a tiny thought in the back of her mind stopped her fingers before curling around the paper.

Once more, she read the list to confirm her newfound realization. The thirst for revenge against Gold for taking Archie away fueled stronger than ever through her veins. A cunning smile curved her lips and the beginnings of a plan unfurled in her mind. This would give him a little taste of his medicine.

Red stuffed the list away and spotted Emma further along the bar. The Sheriff had her blonde head bent low over that volume of fairy tales Gold had given her, though Gold himself was not currently flocking around her like a bothersome fly. The allure of fairy tales must have been working their charm now that she had become a believer.

Gold probably assumed she had no cards to play anymore, what with Archie leaving the diner. But Red had a secret ace inside her sleeve.

"Hey, Emma," she called out as she swept to the Sheriff's side.

Emma tentatively glanced up from her book and Red saw how disconcerted she was. She was most likely torn over everything that had happened tonight between her and Gold. It almost stopped Red in her tracks…but she couldn't feel bad for Emma now. Revenge was a temptation too great to resist.

"I don't need any more drinks, Red," Emma instantly blurted. Red rested her elbows on the bar and forced a concerned expression. It immediately put Emma on her guard.

"Oh, I'm not here for drinks. There's something I think you should know…about Gold."

…..

11:45…11:50…11:55…

Red checked the luminous clock above the bar every five minutes, it seemed. The hands ticked by, slimming the minutes to midnight quicker than she could grasp. Time was about as easy to manipulate as black smoke.

It felt like the tiled floor would be pulled up from under her feet any second; where she previously mourned for losing this game to Gold, she now lamented about not spending that wonderful New Year's moment with Archie.

Who else would she spend it with? Granny? Snow, who had to escort Charming home for his stomach troubles?

It left her lonely and depressed. How miserable was it to spend New Year's alone? She solemnly buried her head in her hand and absently traced a crack in the bar with her fingernail. From the corner of her eye, she noticed the diner's door swing open, but she had no mind to care. Chances were: it wasn't Archie.

"Phew…just made it," someone gasped with relief from a foot or so away.

Red'a head snapped up in disbelief. There stood Archie, grinning warmly down at her with his cheeks chafed from the cold. Only the bar separated the two of them. As Red gaped at him—he was here!—Archie kindly reached over and clasped her hand. It was ice cold, but she didn't care. The only thing that mattered was that it belonged to Archie.

"I told you I'd be back before midnight."

Red could barely contain the excitement raging inside her chest. A silly smile floundered over her face and she was practically bouncing on her toes. It exploded in one extreme gulf of ecstatic relief.

"Jim-Jim!"

Before he could make a move, Red crawled up and over the bar, tackling him to the ground. Their bodies landed in a heap, but she was too preoccupied with securing a gigantic kiss on his lips. She straddled him as it broke apart and he gazed up at her through his crookedly placed glasses.

"You really know what you're doing," he commented, breathing heavily from the pressure of her kiss. Red giggled and helped him to his feet. She had no idea where that came from. Just for emphasis, she wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him tightly. "You really missed me, huh?"

Red beamed up at him, her chin bobbing on his chest.

"You have no idea."

Over his shoulder, she caught Gold's infuriated look as they embraced. This time, the childish instinct was too much of an opportunity to bypass and she stuck her tongue out at him. He sneered and pretended to be distracted by something else. You won't get rid of me so easily, old man.

Suddenly, the karaoke music stopped and Grumpy directed everyone's attention from the head of the crowd. He was playing with the volume dial on the television. Red's eyes switched to the clock on the wall.

It was 11:59.

…

The countdown was starting.

On the hazy television screen, the ball was dropping in Times Square. Anticipation buzzed about the crowd in the diner to the point where Gold could barely hear the thoughts in his head. Ten seconds left until another year descended on their town, ten seconds that he could not afford to waste.

Ten…

He spun toward Emma and latched onto her wrist. Before she could react, he pulled her against his body. She stared up at him with wild green eyes as he focused on her lips. They were parted ever so slightly.

Nine…

"Gold, what are you doing?"

She placed a hand on his arm and tried to break away. He wrapped his arms tighter around her waist, but….No. The kiss had to be willing between both parties—it was one of the rules. He was many things, but he was not one who disregarded the rules of a contract….anymore.

Regrettably, he loosened his hold and offered her some room, though not enough to let her disappear from his grasp. Even so, her muscles visibly relaxed. In some part of his mind, he reasoned that she was simply startled by his abrupt invasion of her personal space, but he still could not help but feel paranoid that his chances were slimming.

Eight….

Under her wary gaze, he lifted her chin with a finger. She could have easily shifted her head away from his touch, but she kept looking straight on into his brown eyes.

"Why, I'm collecting on that kiss, Emma," he made it sound as if it were the most obvious truth in the world. He knew she was so close to wanting it. And perhaps she secretly did, deep down. Midnight would tell.

Seven…

"I only promised you that kiss if you behaved, remember? If you earned it." She squirmed in his arms.

"Compared to everything I'm capable of, dearie, I'm behaving myself. Now, how about that kiss?"

He inclined his head forward and it felt like Emma's wasn't even breathing while she rested against him. But she wasn't pulling away, either. It would have filled him with hope…if Archie weren't getting down on one knee in front of Red.

Six…

In his hands was a small velvet black box. Only Charming would be clueless as to what was inside.

The crowd formed a circle around the couple, most open-mouthed in awe. The sight of it sent Gold's blood boiling in his veins. The reason he made that deal with Archie about handling their wedding plans was because it would be a deal he wouldn't have to stress about—the idea of those two marrying was ridiculous!

But that sneaky little cricket was planning to propose?

And Red was gaping with excitement, gushing as she eyed that little black box. This could not be happening.

Five…

"Red, I know we've only been together for a short while, but…I've never been happier in my life than I am with you. Will you marry me?"

A murmur of aww's rose from the crowd as Archie flipped open the lid to review a sparkling diamond. The cricket had to have saved up every cent in his pocket for that! And judging from the immense happiness flowering on Red's face, her answer was obvious.

Four…

"Yes. Yes, of course I'll marry you," she exclaimed in joy. Gold's insides caved as a round of applause broke out. "But Archie, just wait a few seconds—"

Oh, hell no. There was no way Red was winning this game, engaged or not. He wanted that kiss from Emma and he was going to get it. Red and Archie could kiss all they wanted on their wedding night.

So Gold did the only logical thing he could think of. He lifted his cane in the air and it connected with Archie's hand, which had just successfully pulled the ring out of the black box. Archie gave a cry of pain as his hand made a sickening cracking noise. The ring flew through the air…and landed in a bowl of guacamole.

Emma and Red whirled on him with intense, raging eyes.

"Gold!"

Three…

"My cane slipped," he calmly excused himself. Not one of them looked like they believed him. Archie dove for the guacamole bowl and scrabbled inside for the ring. He ignored his oddly positioned hand, his wrist likely broken.

It was like trying to find a needle in a haystack. A really thick, goopy, green haystack.

Emma gripped his arms, forcing him to look at her.

"This is behaving?" He gazed down at her intently, wondering if he had just lost any chance of getting that kiss. Red was shooting daggers at him with her eyes. And Archie….Archie was scanning the guacamole bowl as if prepared to do a cannonball into it.

Two…

Archie took in a deep breath and rubbed his palms together.

"I'm going in," he announced.

Before anyone could object, he stuck his head in the guacamole. Red screeched in protest. Gold no longer cared. All he could think about was the last few seconds of this old year and how he desperately wanted to kiss Emma.

But how could he when she was studying him with so much misunderstanding?

"Emma, please….You have no idea how much I want this. Don't you?" He caressed her cheek and breathed a sigh of relief when her head fell into his palm. She still wanted it. He guided her gently into his embrace and she tilted her head back to expose her throat. "You're lying if you tell me you don't feel it. I know you do. So, please…let me…"

He brought his lips down…

One…

And caught her cheek. She had shifted her head away at the last second. He peered through her blonde hair at the way she sternly refused his kiss. He grasped her chin and turned her face in his direction, silently demanding answers. Why would you do this to me now?

"You said…" He started to accuse her, but she shook her head.

"I said I would kiss you at midnight. I didn't specifically say it was going to be this night," she stated firmly. Cold realization spiraled down his back. A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. Dipping her head forward, her mouth came to rest near his ear. "You're not the only one who can play games, Gold."

Archie's head shot up from the guacamole bowl, his whole face covered in thick sludge. His hand shot up from his side and clutched in it was the ring.

"I found it!"

But it was too late. It was too late for any of them—him, Emma, Red, Archie…the game was over. None of them had earned their kiss.

The cheers from the background slowly came to life as the people of Storybrooke welcomed in a new year. Horns went off, bottles of champagne were popped, Granny howled from the middle of the crowd.

"Looks like someone got their kiss," Emma commented, glancing over his shoulder.

Every nerve in his body froze as he spun around and feasted his eyes on one couple close-by that were happily devoting themselves to a grand New Year's kiss. Grumpy and Nova. Damn it—he had forgotten about the dwarf and the fairy.

Luck was not on his side tonight. And he didn't even have the pleasure of being drunk.

…

Gold downed his third alcoholic drink in a row when Red sought him out. She couldn't stop swooning over the ring on her finger. If only they could place her on a street corner—he had a feeling she would unknowingly make an interesting traffic director with the way she kept posing her hand this way and that.

"Guess the game's over," she remarked, though she did not sound as sullen as she should be. All she cared about was that bloody ring. Its glister mocked him. "But look at the bright side—I'll be marrying Archie and have a fabulous wedding and you'll be Grumpy's servant for an evening. "

He failed to detect the good news in that statement, especially since the fairy would be accompanying Grumpy. Nothing was worse than having to serve a fairy. Perhaps he would poison her soup. Gods, he needed painkillers for this migraine.

"I don't know why you're so smug, Little Red," he taunted. Her elation dimmed slightly. "Both of us lost. According to that list of rules, anyone who has lost will have to play servant. Correct?"

Red dug out the list of rules from her blouse and pored over her own handwriting within the last few lines. It was a spectacular gift of his, being able to unfurl the loopholes in a contract. Her cheeks flushed pink as she realized she had fallen into her own makeshift trap. With this alcohol bubbling in his system, he was inches from giggling.

"But…but….I…." Words obviously eluded her. He devoured her instability with a wide grin. It did not rid him of the burden that came with losing this game, but it was nice to know he wouldn't be the only one suffering. "When I wrote that up, I never meant—"

He held up a hand to silence her complaints.

"Intent is meaningless. You had it in your pretty little mind that you would win and so did not account for the possibility that someone else might steal your golden moment. You and I both lost this game. Now you and I must obey the circumstances. My only consolation is that you will likely be more miserable than I will."

Red pouted her lips and flung the set of rules on the counter. He quickly snatched it up and stuffed it neatly into his suit; for insurance, should Red decide to try and get out of her agreement. As her eyes roamed the emptying diner, a bright strobe of realization dawned over her face.

Why did she look so pleased again? She was supposed to be rocking side to side in her own pool of tears by now.

"Actually, Grumpy will have three servants," she proclaimed.

He watched curiously as she strode to the laundry room's door and wrenched it open. An avalanche of black suit pants spilled out, with Regina buried among them. Dizzily, the Queen stood only to wobble on her ankles. She was stumbling around worse than any drunk.

Ah, he knew that look well: she would be traumatized and would have to resort to intense therapy.

During all the years he'd known her, he had never seen her look so….panicky. Her arms flailed as though she were still swimming through a room of pants. Her nose twitched with the invasive scent of cologne.

"I will….never….wear pants again," she gasped. Perhaps he would suggest to Granny to ship those pants straight to Madame Mayor's doorstep.

…

Dun, dun, dun! I've actually been planning for those two to win for a while now. Only because it would lead to so much more amusement. I'm kind of selfish that way.

And so many of you have voted for a Valentine's Day Golden Swan fic so you shall have one! I'm currently storming up ideas for it. Anything you would wish to see? I'm not sure it will be strictly based around Valentine's Day, but it will have loads of Golden Swan goodness nonetheless. I'm glad everyone approves.

A wonderful thank-you must go out to all those readers that have reviewed this story recently: DaesGatling, Huntress4455, Johnathon Greye, discotimelord, SakuraBlossom58, isara-love, Deathbringer88, DragonRose4, BundyShoes, Emperor's Sister, The Auburn Girl, Musicalfan2012, EchoMs, la-stella-immortale, and SwanQueen4055.