A/N: First off, I am sorry this update took longer than I expected. Two words: Arkham City. If those words don't mean anything to you, then just ignore that detail.

But I also bring good news! Thanks to greenholstein's review, I have focused this chapter specifically on Emma/Gold. Which means I already have the next chapter finished and written up for you! *dances with joy*

So, hope you all enjoy this lovely chapter.

When Emma returned from her trip to the diner, she was soaked head to toe and shivering. Her blonde waves clung to her skin like intricate spider-web and water dripped onto the floor.

Gold appeared from behind the curtain. As his brown eyes surveyed her, his lips twitched with unmistakable amusement at her wet, disheveled appearance. He leaned heavily on his cane as he slowly glanced down at the growing puddle on the floor.

"Don't. Say. A word," Emma warned him through chattering teeth.

Lightning illuminated the shop and she drew away from the door. Gold's expression was one of mock innocence—a mask he pulled off rather well when he wanted to.

"Yes, dear," he drawled. Emma narrowed her eyes at him. Gold shrugged. "That was two." Sighing, she unzipped her leather jacket and revealed a take-out bag from the diner. Gold's hand fluttered to his heart. "Oh, thank heavens. Here I thought our baby was growing faster than intended."

Emma shot him an annoyed look and thrust the bag his way. Gripping a handful of her hair, she wrung it out. A stream of water poured onto the floor.

"Woman, you are ruining my floors," he complained, motioning to the river in Emma's wake. As if water's the worst thing that's been on his floor.

"The Stranger was in the diner," Emma changed the subject. Gold's calm smile slipped away instantly into a distasteful frown. Not so smug now, are you? Point for me.

"That man better have kept his lips to himself," Gold growled. His hand was clutching the head of his cane so fiercely, Emma thought it might actually snap off. Okay, maybe it wasn't such a brilliant idea to mention Stranger. The only advantage he has is the rain slowing down Gold.

"Trust me, nothing happened," she assured him, wringing out the other patch of her hair. Gold scowled and dropped a gray, tattered rag over the puddle, nudging it with his foot.

"Oh, I trust you, my dear. I do not trust him." Gold's voice was low and smooth as always, but she knew him too well now.

Gold had the typical insecurity—much as he tried to shield it—of others taking what rightfully belonged to him. It didn't surprise Emma that she was more or less one of those possessions, even if it irked her to consider herself as his possession. It sounded like she was up for sale. What am I? A lava lamp?

"He's a writer," she offered, as if that somehow made Stranger less of a threat. Gold bent forward to retrieve the rag and deposited it in a heap on a shelf. Slowly, he turned on his heel to her.

"And what exactly did he ask of you in return for this information?"

A thick lump formed in Emma's throat and another chill skated down her neck, though it had little to do with her damp hair. He won't be pleased with this. And I'm sure as hell not going to be responsible for Stranger's hospital bill.

"You know, not everyone in this town is a creepy, manipulative, shady dealmaker like you," she retorted, but her voice broke on the last syllable. Gold arched an eyebrow and waited. "Oh, for God's sake, he asked to buy me a drink sometime. There, happy? It's not like he asked me to go home with him. He doesn't even have a home!"

Gold's expression was stony and cold. She was surprised the windows didn't shatter from it.

"The key word being 'sometime.' What's that colorful phrase? Oh, yes. Over my dead body." Emma crossed her arms and matched his unwavering gaze.

"I thought agreements were always honored with you," she challenged him. Her stomach grumbled like a roll of thunder and she was half-aware their food was growing cold.

"My agreements are always honored. It doesn't mean I favor you honoring his agreement. He's a big boy—he'll get over it." Before she knew it, Gold was standing directly before her. His fingers were caressing her waist. "Have you forgotten your…fragile state, Emma?"

Emma didn't flinch as she batted Gold's hand away.

"I wasn't agreeing to alcohol, Gold. I was agreeing to a 'drink'. He could buy me bottled water and it would technically suffice. Intent is meaningless, right?"

For a long, tense moment, Gold's brown eyes scanned her face. Then his smile returned, satisfied like never before.

"I've taught you well. You're on your way to graduating," he said softly with a hint of pride. Two of his fingers caught a strand of her wiry, damp hair and twirled it. After a second, he released her hair and increased the space between them. "Our food will be getting cold and we can't have that. It'll only take a moment to heat it up."

Gold started for the back of his shop.

"You have a microwave back there?" What next? A fridge? A bed? Then again, why does he need a bed when he has a desk?

"I have the makings of a home all in the comfort of my back room. Don't worry, Emma. Mi casa es su casa." Gold prepared to sweep aside the curtain, but paused. "Just so you know, that means—"

"I know what it means, Gold," she cut him off. He was referring to Louisiana, with those Spanish women and her mistake of calling Gold her 'wife.' "I suppose you also have a walk-in closet with something for me to change into?"

Gold glanced back at her with a wide smile, the kind of leer she'd once found unnerving.

"I'm sure I have something lying around," he replied before slipping behind the curtain. I don't like the way he said that. Why do I have the feeling I'm going to regret asking that?

It only took a minute or so for Gold to reappear. A bundle of red clothing was draped over his arm, the ruby shade of a fresh rose. Emma hesitantly reached out for it and her green eyes boggled as she unfolded it.

It was a red dress.

A sexy red dress.

"What, did you plan this storm, too?" Gold scrutinized her every move as she held the dress up to her body. What Emma did not know was that the dress belonged to Ruby, who only parted with it on the condition that she could arrange the dinner.

"It was an opportunity I could not pass up. It's not as bad as the gold dress," he pointed out to cheer her up.

Emma eyed it from all angles. Gold did have a small point there. This dress wasn't as short as the gold dress. It was a simple strapped dress with a flowing, pleated design past the waist.

"I take it from your silence that you agree. Good." Emma shook her head pitifully and tossed her leather jacket away from her body.

"I guess it's either this or…my…birthday suit. I'll take the dress." Gold nodded to her approvingly.

"That's the spirit. Though, being your devoted husband, I'll support you with or without the dress." Emma gave an emotionless laugh.

"Of course you would. I'll just—" She made to step into the back room to change, but Gold blocked her path. Emma tried again, only to have Gold follow her movements and side-step her.

"Are you taking dance lessons from Stranger? Don't make me kick that cane out from under you. I'll do it."

Gold lifted his cane closer to his body and spread his arms on either side of the doorframe. It definitely reminded her of Stranger and the Christmas party. How do I attract these people?

"I'm afraid you can't go back there, dearie," he told her. Emma stared at him suspiciously.

"And why not?"

"Ant infestation. Nasty critters," he explained without hesitation. Emma still had a hard time believing it—there was something else going on here. It seemed Gold was always playing his cards.

"Gold, we were just back there and there were no ants—"

"Emma, I'm only thinking in your best interest. Those ants will no doubt be attracted to your lovely skin and leave red marks all over. Then you'll have to explain to everyone why you have red marks on your skin and I'm not sure Archie can take much more from you. Given our relationship, who will honestly believe it was ants?"

Emma was struck speechless by this rant of Gold's. Oh, yes. He was up to something. What the hell is going on? Grudgingly, she let it go. For now.

"Then, do you mind giving me a little privacy?" She made a shooing gesture with her hand. Gold ignored it, even as her hand brushed his suit. He gave her a critical once-over.

"It's not like I haven't seen you naked, Emma." Emma dumped the dress on the counter and leaned against it, still as stone. It was clear she wasn't undressing until he was gone. "Very well. I'll just…check on those ants."

Gold grabbed the bag of food and left her alone in the front of the shop. Emma took her time getting into the red dress. It was a little tight around the waist, but not bad.

The whooshing sound of the curtain made her turn. Gold stood there, devouring every inch of her with his brown eyes.

"Beautiful. Now, if you'll follow me. Dinner is served."

…..

"Think of it as a token of my appreciation," Gold hinted as Emma followed him into the back room. "Besides, you never gave me that other special Christmas present, darling."

He stepped aside so Emma could get a full view of the room. She studied it quietly. He liked to think she was in awe.

"I thought you said there was an ant infestation. Looks pretty clean to me. Or, as clean as your back room ever gets." Or not. Hard to please, this one.

While she was gone, Gold had taken it upon himself to clear the tea set off the desk and had covered it with a fine red tablecloth. The room was lit only by a single candle on the desk. Their food was waiting on a generous plate in the middle: spaghetti, courtesy of Ruby.

"The ants must have decided it would be better to swarm David Nolan instead."

Gold watched Emma's green eyes gleam like emeralds in the soft golden light. Ah, there we are. She was pleased, he could tell. Only the best for my Emma, he thought as he placed a gentle hand on the small of her back.

There was a time not too long ago where such a gesture or touch would cause Emma to tense up and push him away. Tonight, her body was relaxed and she seemed to draw closer to him. An inch or two, but it was enough. He was sure Emma didn't fully grasp how much she'd leaned toward him since the night they were wed. Or did she?

"Wow. If I had known you were planning this, I would have expected McDonalds," she taunted him lightly. And now that she mentioned it, he could go for some of those fries…No. What was he thinking? This world's food is much too addicting.

"And yet McDonalds does not scream 'romantic,'" he replied as he guided her to their 'table.' Emma gave him a dubious look over her shoulder.

"And food from Granny's Diner at your desk in the back room of your shop does?"

Emma chose her seat—which was really a plain wooden chair—while Gold remained close behind her. His hands came to rest on the table, on either side of her body. His breath warmed her neck.

"Would you rather we do this in public?" With everyone in town staring at us like a cow just dropped from the sky? Emma eyed the table which was really a desk and the plate of spaghetti.

"Mmm…spaghetti," she exclaimed with a sudden urge of enthusiasm. Gold chuckled near her ear.

"That's what I thought." Gold straightened and grabbed a bottle that Ruby had also packed into the bag. Sparkling apple juice.

As he poured some into Emma's glass, she read the label sideways. Her head tilted back to gaze up at him knowingly.

"Let me guess: Ruby was in on this, too?" Gold's small smile and lack of verbal response must have confirmed it for her. "How much did you pay her?"

Gold circled the table and poured himself some of the apple juice.

"I didn't pay Ruby a dime," he answered honestly, taking his seat across from Emma. The wheels in her head were spinning—he could see the raw determination in her eyes.

"So, how did you—" It hit her. Slowly, she glanced down at the red dress hugging her body. It certainly looked better on Emma than it ever did on Ruby. "That's where the red dress came from."

Gold smirked as he stuck his fork into the spaghetti and wrapped a spool of it around the fork.

"What, do you think I have America's Next Top Model stuffed in my closet?" Emma genuinely laughed and allowed her fork to join his in the spaghetti.

"I wouldn't be surprised. Your closet is a walk-in built for a Kardashian." Emma brought the spaghetti to her mouth. She pointed her fork at the plate as she swallowed. "And her choice of food was spaghetti?"

Luckily, Gold more or less knew Ruby well. A predictable young woman, much like any other hazy-brained creature in this town.

"Ruby must have intended for us to re-enact Lady and the Tramp," he said. Emma raised an eyebrow as she took a sip of apple juice.

"Sounds like something Mary Margaret and David would do." And that mental image was all too clear in his mind. Lovebirds. At least I don't need the help of spaghetti to kiss Emma.

The two of them chewed in silence for a while, their forks occasionally clashing in the pit of spaghetti. All the while, Gold observed Emma across from him—the easiness of her smile, the rosy shade of her cheeks, the brightness of her eyes.

He knew this night would mean a great deal to her in the long run. She needed to know that she wasn't falling into the same trap and being used. She needed to know it was about more than just the sex.

"Thank you," she finally whispered. And he knew he had been right. This did mean a lot to her. To take advantage of her comfort now would shatter it. But she did look so good in that dress…

He needed to think about something else. Anything else.

"Are you going to tell Henry?" Emma lifted her head in surprise and laid her fork down. There was a struggle waging inside her. To tell Henry was to admit to keeping their baby, to fight for it.

And she would. He could see it dawning on her.

"Yeah, I think so. I'll tell Henry," she agreed. What he heard beyond that was I'll fight for the baby. His knuckle brushed her hand to tell her he understood. "Will he…will Henry accept it?"

Gold withdrew his hand to dab his lips with a napkin, the spaghetti temporarily forgotten. He leaned his elbows on the table and chose his words carefully.

"Emma, I've watched your boy grow up here," he started. Emma stared down at the spaghetti, moving it around listlessly with her fork.

"Lucky you," she sarcastically retorted. Alright, perhaps not the best way to start. David's disease of idiocy might be spreading. That man should be quarantined.

"What that boy wants more than anything is a family. Much like you did when you were bouncing around foster homes as a child," he explained.

Emma froze in her seat at the mention of her troubled past. He knew she didn't want the same troubles for Henry. Gold lightly laid his hand over hers.

"Henry will be happy. You'll see." Once you believe in this curse, fight a dragon, obtain true love, and get your boy away from the Queen, that is. No pressure, Emma.

They dipped back into the spaghetti and into silence. Gold's eyes roamed the mess in his back room as he lifted a forkful to his lips. The thin noodles were so long that they were still hidden in the pile.

I suppose I could have tried to organize the merchandise a little. Stuff it somewhere, maybe in the alley. It's not like anyone would think to steal from me. Except Ashley…

Emma kept her eyes on the wall, lost in thought as she chewed. How am I ever going to break it to Henry? Okay…'Henry, I have something to tell you. I'm sort of…kind of…' No. 'Henry, guess what? I'm having…me and Gold…' Maybe I should just send him a card. 'Congratulations! You're a big brother now!' That'll work.

Emma and Gold simultaneously inched forward trying to gather up the rest of their spaghetti. The rest of the noodles rose from the pile and their lips met at the end of it.

Both of them were stunned even as they kissed. Gently, they drifted apart and Emma's eyes widened.

"Huh. Guess that really does work," she commented, touching a finger to her lips. "You planned that." Gold licked his lips, savoring the taste of spaghetti and Emma.

"For once, my dear, that was pure luck." As far as you know.

…

I felt in the mood to write a nice little scene for these two. (-;

As always, my reviewers are full of awesomeness! Cookies to everyone! Thank you DaesGatling, olverabonk, Twyla Mercedes, greenholstein, Notsureyet18, discotimelord, MonkeesDoctorWho1987, SBM-AnGiE, Immortalis Charitas, belladu57, BlooperLover, russianeyes718ouat7ncis, thedoctorsgirl42, DragonRose4, megumisakura, ParanormalMoonlight, Musicalfan2012, iwannabegoldnrumpeled, and The-Writer2012.