"I kind of feel like we're lurking here."

Killian glanced at Emma, not turning his head away from the archway across the street and they were kind of lurking there. "This was your idea, Swan."

"Yeah, but then I just got radio silence out of Regina about it and you've been all super cool uncle for the last couple of weeks and when I show up at fancy private schools I'm usually there to help M's and spend most of my time in her classroom..

"You showing up to a lot of fancy private schools then?"

She stuck out her tongue and that would have been decidedly distracting no matter where they were standing, but they were sitting on a stone wall across from Henry and Roland's school and he couldn't really just start making out with her when they were supposed to be picking up kids and doing something vaguely guardian-like.

"I don't think Mary Margaret would appreciate it if I just showed up in her classroom," Killian reasoned.

Emma shrugged. "I don't know about that. She's a big fan of yours."

"That so?"

He widened his eyes, twisting his eyebrows slightly and Emma made a face, letting her head loll onto his shoulder and he wrapped his arm tightly around her waist. Like he was trying to prove what a big fan of hers he was.

Or something.

He hadn't written anything in nearly three weeks and the only reason he hadn't actually been kicked out of his apartment was a mixture of kismet and a vaguely ridiculous amount of savings and the United States Navy, who sent him a check once a month because his brother was dead.

That was kind of a depressing way of thinking about it.

And he'd been decidedly not depressed for the last few weeks.

Even if he was counting the days since he'd quit and, sometimes, his mind would wander and he'd remember Cora's threat – the consequences of that – and his breath would catch and Emma would look at him with enough concern that he'd forget why he was even worried in the first place.

Nothing was going to happen.

It was going to be fine.

Killian had told himself that, at least, six million times in the days since he'd walked out of The Daily Caller offices and nothing had happened and Hans was still in jail and the DA was building a case and...it was going to be fine.

Justice would prevail.

Or something less lame.

And he couldn't worry about an open investigation and lingering threats when he and Emma had to find something to do to entertain two kids for the next four hours.

"See, you're trying to flirt and distract with that eyebrow thing you do," Emma said, tapping her finger on his forehead to prove her point. "But Mary Margaret honestly thinks you're fantastic, so you're only teasing yourself in this weird, roundabout way."

He forgot every worry he'd ever had.

"And why exactly would Mary Margaret think I'm so fantastic, Swan?" Killian asked, ducking his head until he was half a breath away from her and she pulled her lips behind her teeth. That felt like a victory. "Are you talking about me, love?"

"Fishing for compliments."

"For facts. There's a difference."

She rolled her eyes, but there was a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth and her hand moved back to the front of his jacket, tugging lightly on fabric. "See, you think this banter is endearing, but it's just frustrating."

"You're smiling though," Killian argued, leaning back only long enough that he could tilt his head and, well, damn the sidewalk or the wall they were sitting on. He kissed her anyway.

It wasn't exactly easy – balanced as they were on an actual wall and he had a coffee cup in one hand and Emma couldn't quite twist enough, bent awkwardly around herself and him and they were probably drawing curious looks from the tourists.

"Not smiling," Emma mumbled, and this felt like flirting, which made everything feel a bit more normal and nothing was going to happen.

There was no reason to...simply assume the worst. He stopped doing that as soon as she started leaving shower gel in his apartment – their apartment – but they hadn't really gotten around to discussing that and maybe they should because he couldn't remember the last time he hadn't fallen asleep without Emma tucked up against him.

Until later on that night.

That was a weird train of thought, a twisted vision of the future and a bed that would, presumably, feel far too big without her hair everywhere and her feet tangled in between his legs, but there was a plan and a video game final the next day and it was going to be fine.

Nothing was going to happen.

He believed.

Or something decidedly un-Killian Jones. Or, maybe, very Killian Jones in the last nine months.

Huh.

"You're thinking very loudly," Emma said, sitting up a bit straighter and there was definitely a smile when she took a sip of her own coffee. "And do you think we can actually be arrested for loitering on this wall?"

"No."

"Was that a no to both questions or just the loitering thing?"

"Both questions," he grinned. "But mostly the second one because this is a park and a public place and we could sit here for the rest of the day if we wanted to."

"It'd probably get cold."

"I think we've proved we're more than capable of contending with the cold, Swan. And it's April."

"I'm not sure that makes a difference," Emma pointed out, toying with the zipper of his coat now and flirting was as good a distraction as any.

It was going to be fine.

He couldn't even really lie to himself anymore and he was so worried he was fairly certain his hand was just going to start shaking at some point.

That probably would have made the flirting more difficult.

"The loudest thinker in all five boroughs," Emma muttered, and her empty coffee cup seemed to echo in between his ears when she set it down next to her.

"You can't include Staten Island in that, Swan. That doesn't even count."

"I think everyone on Staten Island would disagree with that. Have you ever even been to Staten Island?"

"Not once in my life," he admitted. "There never seemed to be a point. Why, have you ever been to Staten Island?"

Emma nodded. "Once when I came to visit David and M's and Ruby was dating someone who lived out there and there was a birthday party...or New Year's? Maybe it was New Year's? It was freezing on the boat though."

"The boat," Killian repeated skeptically and Emma shrugged again. "You know, I think the entire not-quite borough of Staten Island would take offense to you calling the ferry a boat, love. And boat is just...generically offensive."

"To who? Exactly? Also, you just insulted Staten Island again."

"And you can't remember if it was a birthday party or New Year's," he argued, falling back into flirting and banter and what happened nextbecause somewhere in between the worry and the internal pep-talks and trying to figure out if Scarlet could actually teach him how to take photos, Killian had started considering next in some kind of grand, sweeping way.

And he wanted her to keep shower gel in his apartment on some kind of indefinite scale.

And maybe they could pay rent together.

Or something more romantic than that.

"It was definitely New Year's," Emma promised, picking her coffee cup up again like she suddenly expected it to be filled and hot enough to burn her tongue. "Ah, shit," she grumbled when she realized there were just dregs in the bottom and Killian couldn't quite help the laugh that bubbled out of him.

They'd buy, at least, fifty bottles of that vanilla scented shower gel and everything would probably smell a bit like it and he'd probably never stop smiling.

"I think it was snowing," she added. "Why didn't we get more coffee?"

Killian shook his head – not sure if it was an answer or just that general sense of wonder he always seemed to find himself wading through when it came to Emma. "Because even you wouldn't be able to drink your coffee quickly enough that the second cup would still be scalding hot by the time you got it."

"That was a very convoluted sentence."

"And yet I'm fairly certain you kept up with it."

"That's because I am, occasionally, smart and quick on the uptake."

"All the time."

She scoffed, tongue doing decidedly distracting things again – pressing into the corner of her mouth and slipping in between her lips and he didn't expect the next question to just fall out out of him, but he hadn't written anything in awhile and he was curious.

He wanted to know every single about her.

"Have you thought about that anymore?" Killian asked, and Emma hummed in confusion, tugging one leg up to rest her chin on her knee.

"About what?"

"School. And going back to school."

Emma's eyebrows shot up her forehead and Killian resisted the urge to groan, well aware that he'd just yanked them out of flirting and into serious so quickly they'd probably both sustained cuts and bruises in several different places.

"Oh," she mumbled, still holding an empty coffee cup. They should have kept talking about Staten Island. Or New Year's.

He should have asked her to move into his goddamn apartment.

"You don't have to actually answer that," Killian said quickly, staring at the crowd of recently-dismissed kids and they should probably get off the wall so Henry and Roland knew they were there.

"Yes," Emma said.

She looked straight at him when she said it, pulling her other leg up and twisting on the spot and that couldn't have been comfortable because they were sitting on granite or concrete or something, but it might have actually been the most adorable thing he'd ever seen and she clicked her tongue when she smiled at him again.

"Yeah?" he asked, leaning forward out of instinct to brush his fingers over the side of her face. She closed her eyes.

"I mean, kind of. Not in anything more than just the abstract and I definitely haven't talked to M's about it or even looked up when they offer GED tests. Is that even how it works? I honestly have no idea."

"I think there are classes. We could look."

Emma snapped her head up and, eventually, she wouldn't be so surprised by that. She wouldn't be surprised by him or this or them in some kind of grand, sweepingly romantic way.

He was looking forward to that.

Maybe buying more shower gel would help. Or coffee.

"You'd do that?" she asked softly and Killian nodded before she'd even finished the question.

"Anything, Swan."

"Jeez, you can't just do that."

"Do what, exactly?"

"It feels like cheating," Emma accused, mumbling the words distractedly and the kids were getting louder and sprinting in several different directions towards several different blocks and they were totally going to get ice cream.

That would probably ruin everyone's appetite for whatever pre-final thing they had to go to at Granny's later that night, but Killian was far too busy trying to convince his girlfriend he'd go to the end of the goddamn world for her to be concerned with caloric intake.

"I'm afraid I'm not keeping up with this conversation, Swan," he smiled, and he'd totally done it for the reaction, the twist of her mouth and the way her eyes rolled skyward and her hair smelled like vanilla when he tucked his head to kiss along her jaw.

"Well, when you're so busy insulting an entire borough, it's difficult to remember the high points, I suppose."

"Staten Island should not be a borough. We've been over this, love."

"I'm going to ask Ruby her thoughts later."

"You can poll the entire restaurant if you want. I'm still going to win. And if Ruby was dating someone on Staten Island and it was serious enough to warrant either a birthday party or New Year's Eve invitation and she is no longer dating that person, then I'm going to go ahead and assume that she doesn't have very fond memories of Staten Island."

Emma huffed – the sound bordering on a growl and that was vaguely adorable too. "See, you're doing it again," she accused, and she was going to do permanent damage to his zipper. "Frustratingly attractive. It's cheating."

"I don't think those words are supposed to go together in that order."

"Well, too bad, you brought this on yourself when you just started offering up research services like that was a normal thing people do."

"Isn't it?" Killian asked. It felt like a much bigger question. It felt like the question and he really didn't want her to have some kind of team-bonding thing that night that required her to sleep anywhere except next to him.

He was a selfish asshole.

Who loved her enough for anything.

What happens next.

"Yeah, I think it might be," Emma admitted softly, head falling against his shoulder and he kissed her hair quickly and immediately and instinctively and if he only ever smelled vanilla for the rest of his life then things would be as fine as he kept promising himself they would be.

"You think Henry would let me write research papers about him when he becomes a professional video game player?" she continued, and Killian laughed, wrapping both arms around her waist and that wasn't very comfortable either. He didn't care. "You could double check my homework or something. Make sure I do it every night."

It would probably be weird if he just started shouting future-type plans and questions into her hair, but it was fairly difficult not to and Killian settled on kissing her forehead again.

"I'd love that," he said honestly.

She didn't look quite as surprised when she pulled back, just smiled softly at him and he breathed a bit easier when her fingers ghosted over the back of his beck and the bottom of his hair.

"I just figured…" Emma muttered. "If this all ends in flames or something less dramatic tomorrow, then I should have some kind of backup plan and I just figured…"

"What?" Killian asked when she didn't actually finish her thought. "Figured what?"

"I know you're going stir crazy without writing and I know that you…" She took another deep breath, chewing thoughtfully on her lip when her eyes went slightly glossy. "You walked away and this is all my fault, but you're going to get something else and you're going to win eight-hundred awards and I'd just like to...compare or something."

They were never going to get off that wall.

He was never going to breathe again.

"Swan," Killian started, breathing out her name like it was the most important thing he'd ever said. It absolutely was.

"None of this is your fault," he continued, squeezing her shoulder like that would prove his point. "This a convergence of coincidences and absurd connections and, I mean, think about it, Elsa and Anna's parents know Wesselton and worked with Wesselton for most of their professional lives and that whole time he's been shipping for Gold too? And some guy you knew when you were seventeen winds up working for a crime boss I can't actually pin any crimes on? I wasn't lying before, Emma. You are the only thing about any of this that has made any sense and I'd do it all over again. Without a second thought."

She blinked, her lip still stuck in between her teeth and her fingers stilled somewhere in the middle of that speech.

He tried to remember to breathe.

"Cheater, cheater, pumpkin eater," Emma mumbled, and that was, honestly, the last thing he expected to hear.

Killian barked out a laugh, head falling forward and nearly crashing against Emma's and she stopped biting her lip long enough to find his. He wasn't sure what noise he made when she kissed him, but it was probably classifiable as public indecency and maybe they should have been more worried about that than the loitering.

"Hey, can I ask a question?" she muttered, fingers still entrenched in his hair and he must have nodded because he could feel her lips turn up into a smile. "What was the angle? I...you never actually said."

It was like being thrown into ice water or off the side of the Staten Island Ferry on New Year's Eve and neither one of those were very appealing options, but Killian felt his blood go cold and his face fell as soon as his brain processed her question.

"Was that not the right follow-up?" Emma asked, smile fading just a bit and he couldn't actually think of a single word before he heard someone screaming his name from the other side of the block.

"Hook! Hook! Hook!" Henry shouted, tugging Roland along with him like he was a stray puppy he'd picked up instead of a younger brother who needed to keep his arm in his socket.

Killian shook his head, jumping off the wall and holding his hand out towards Emma. She took it. "They're going to get run over by a cab and then Gina will murder me, bring me back to life and then kill me for the rest of time."

"That's an oddly specific plan," Emma muttered. They jogged across the street, not much traffic on a street that wasn't actually a number and Henry beamed at them when they stopped in front of them.

Roland launched himself at Killian.

"And I'm not sure that Regina is the member of this family you need to worry about when it comes to injuring you," she added, the smile back on her face and her hand on Roland's back when he wrapped his arms around Killian's neck.

"Eventually he's got to learn how to control his limbs," Killian mumbled.

Henry was still bobbing on the balls of his feet – nearly toppling to the side under the weight of his backpack – and Emma rested her other hand on the kid's shoulders, tugging him against her side and he didn't even argue.

That seemed important too.

"Rol, you can't actually choke K before we move away from school, ok," Emma laughed. Killian wasn't sure whose eyes went wider at the use of multiple nicknames in one sentence – his or Roland's and Henry just looked particularly pleased with himself.

Roland made some kind of strangled sound, far more understanding than a seven-year-old should be and they were barely treading water in some kind of riptide of future-type wants and plans.

That didn't even make any sense.

Liam would be disappointed in Killian's inability to make appropriate water-based puns.

"Can we get ice cream?" Roland asked, directing the question at Emma. She glanced towards Killian and he couldn't shrug with a child draped across him, but they'd gotten fairly good at just understanding each other.

"Rocky road?" Emma countered, and Roland didn't approve of that at all.

"Cookie dough," he shouted, twisting and kicking Killian in the thigh and Emma's laugh would probably linger in his memory for, like, the rest of his life or something.

"Ah, of course. Silly of me to think otherwise. Well, I'll tell you what, Rol. What if we got some kind of sampler platter of ice cream?"

Roland made another noise – a question without actually asking the words – and Henry was never going to stop moving. Killian would probably just stand there for the rest of time. They did, eventually, have to go back uptown.

Regina would kill them if they just kind of kidnapped her kids with ice cream and domesticity.

"You mean, we could get, like, more than one flavor," Henry said excitedly, voice rushing over the words and Emma nodded. "Hook never lets us do that!"

Killian groaned, rolling his head back and drawing several curious looks from several different nannies and au pairs and those were probably the same thing. "Kid," he sighed. "I have provided you with far more ice cream over the course of your life than you should have ever gotten. Do not try and suggest that I'm limiting your ice cream choices."

Henry sneered slightly and Emma kept laughing like they hadn't been, maybe, talking about the angle a few seconds before. "You tell us we can't mix ice cream choices because it ruins the flavor of the ice cream," Henry argued.

"That's the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard," Emma said, bracing herself when Roland turned towards her and tried to shimmy down Killian's side. "Hands down. Do you even allow sprinkles on these ice cream adventures?"

"Yes," Killian scowled. "Sprinkle are, in fact, encouraged. But, let's all be honest with ourselves and agree that rainbow sprinkles are far and away better than chocolate sprinkles."

Emma and Henry made matching sounds of indignation and Roland was mumbling about chocolate dip and waffle cones. "That's not even remotely true," Emma muttered, one arm on either side of the kids next to her and Killian wasn't sure when he started coming in second in that particular popularity contest.

He really didn't mind.

"It's too much chocolate," Killian argued. "You can't get rocky road ice cream and chocolate sprinkles, Swan. That just sound awful. And how would you even get it in a cone? The logistics of sprinkles sticking to hard ice cream are just scientifically impossible."

"So, you're a scientist now, huh?"

"Ah, well, if we're all going to try something new, maybe I'll head that direction."

It was supposed to be a joke – and it almost felt like it actually landed, but Emma's shoulders sagged half an inch and Henry's gaze flickered between the two of them like he had some kind of sixth sense for tension.

"You get the ice cream in a cup, you put chocolate sprinkles and hot fudge on top with, at least, four cherries and then you ask for the cone on the side so there are crunchy pieces when you smash them on top," Emma said, forcing the conversation back on its dessert-themed track.

Killian hummed, taking a step towards her and he ignored both kids when he kissed her quickly, lips brushing across hers and fingers grazing over her cheek and it was all going to be fine. "That's a very detailed plan," he murmured.

"Yeah, well, that seems to be the trend. And if we're going to taste test a small fleet of ice cream flavors, then we need to have a good approach."

"Naturally. Alright, ice cream and irresponsibility and we're all going to tell Gina that this was a collective plan, right?"

"Eh," Emma muttered as Roland laced his fingers with hers and Henry laughed loudly. "I make no promises. You were insulting the sprinkles."

"Jimmies."

"Oh, that's just blasphemy."

He grinned at her – worry forgotten in another plan and more flirting and Roland didn't let go of her hand while they walked up Third Avenue.

None of them ate any food when they got to Granny's.

And Regina absolutely knew.

That might have been because Roland was quick to detail their ice cream adventure to anyone who would listen and he told Regina, at least, six different times in the first twenty minutes they were there.

"I told you," Killian muttered, slinging an arm over Emma's shoulders and leaning against the wall in the room upstairs. "Look at her, she's plotting my murder right now."

Emma scoffed. "She's smiling."

"Ah, but it's a devious smile. I know it. She's pissed about the amount of dairy we gave Roland."

"We? You were the one who was so quick to give into the ice cream plan, counselor. I refuse to accept any responsibility for any of that. Plus, you had more fun than both Roland and Henry put together."

That might have been true.

And they'd gotten more coffee and walked all the way back uptown and he'd stolen cinnamon from a coffee place that actually wasn't Starbucks.

It was in his jacket pocket.

Emma hummed, a knowing look on her face when she twisted back in front of him and he couldn't think when she rested both her hands flat on his chest.

"Agh, is this more flirting?" Will yelled, walking towards them with a camera hanging against his side. "Because I don't know if can cope with the flirting all night."

"It absolutely is," Killian promised. "Go away."

"That's rude, Hook. Hey, how come you guys never ask me to go get ice cream with your little after school family?"

"Because you are a grown adult and, presumably, have a job to do at some point during the day."

"Yeah, but, you know, ice cream."

"It was really good ice cream," Emma muttered, and Killian couldn't actually roll his eyes, far too busy being charmed and absolutely flirting back. "Tell you what, Scarlet, next time you're not trying to be a jerk about us being better adults than you, then you can come get ice cream with us too, deal?"

Will laughed loudly, head thrown back with the force of it and he nodded quickly. "Yeah, Em, that sounds good to me. I look forward to usurping you both as Henry and Roland's favorites. And tomorrow's going to kind of fun right, too?"

"What?"

"Did Gina not tell you? Or David? This was kind of his idea."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Ah, well, shit," Will sighed, hitching his camera up and hitting himself in the hip in the process. "That's pretty lame. I'm definitely not the one who's supposed to tell you. I'm just there to document."

"Speak actual sentences, Scarlet," Killian muttered, a hint of a threat to his voice that didn't belong in a day that also included ice cream taste tests.

God, he really wanted Emma to come home.

"This was not part of the plan," Will reasoned. He rocked back on his heels, glancing around the room and everyone was far too busy doing something else.

Henry and Ruby were going to argue about MarioKart rules all night – the protocol of using shells and bananas – and David kept laughing under his breath, clearly just happy to be playing the game while Mary Margaret toyed with the back of his shirt, perched on the edge of another chair nearby.

Anna kept updating Instagram, holding her phone in front of her and Elsa and Belle as they made faces for the camera and Roland was talking about ice cream again, tugging Regina and Robin towards an amused looking Tink and Ariel.

Killian didn't want to know the plan.

He just wanted it to be two days from now and certain nothing was going to happen in the middle of the Playstation Theatre.

He wanted to go with them to the Playstation Theatre even if his credential wasn't really much of a credential anymore.

He didn't actually have a byline.

And Emma still didn't know why.

"What exactly was the plan?" Emma asked, kicking at Will's shin when he didn't answer immediately.

Will made a noise, a disagreement or a refusal and Emma kicked him again. "Ow, jeez, are you taking martial arts lessons in your spare time?"

"What spare time would that be? Exactly?"

"In between the flirting and the ice cream and moving into Hook's apartment."

"Oh my God, Scarlet, shut up," Killian growled, but Emma didn't actually argue any of that, a fact his mind was quick to point out.

And maybe latch on to for the rest of time.

"This is not my job. I only know because A knew and she can't keep a secret to save her life."

"Rude," Ariel shouted, not taking her eyes away from the phone in front of her, but she did manage to throw a less-than-appropriate finger gesture Will's direction. "And I only know because David told me and I had to get him some kind of knockoff VIP pass thing."

Emma's whole body went tense against Killian, head darting towards the TV screen and David looked like he'd actually frozen on his chair.

"Detective," she said softly, barely audible over fucking Yoshi in his fucking car. David heard. His shoulders moved. "What exactly have you been plotting?"

The whole room paused and Mary Margaret couldn't seem to decide who to stare at, eyes darting between Emma and David and then back again like she was watching a particularly interesting tennis match where neither of the participants were actually moving.

"I'm not plotting anything," David promised, but Emma didn't actually move, just kept staring at him and waiting for the rest of the admission. He sighed. "It's not plotting if I'm just doing my job, right?"

"That sounds like you're asking me what your job description is."

"I'm not. Because I know what my job is. And that's to finish this goddamn investigation."

Emma narrowed her eyes and Killian's own gaze flitted towards Mary Margaret – the worry clear on her face, but he wasn't sure who it was directed at exactly. "How exactly does this investigation end, then?" Emma whispered.

"I can't tell you that."

"Bullshit."

"Emma," David sighed again, and she rolled her shoulders against Killian's side, standing up to her full height. He held her hand.

She squeezed back.

"You're going to be there tomorrow?" she asked, and he nodded. "I thought you were stuck on desk duty for the foreseeable future."

"There were, uh…special circumstances."

Emma tilted her head, the frustration practically wafting off her and Killian traced his thumb across a vein on the back of her hand. It was going to be fine. There was nothing to be worried about. He was going to be there.

He still had a credential.

And he'd gotten past plenty of security in his life.

"Ariel," Emma snapped. David's eyes widened in surprise when she shifted conversational gears, head twisting and he winced when he moved the wrong way.

"Pan mentioned something on his stream a couple of days ago," Ariel admitted softly, ignoring David's groans. Ruby hissed in a breath of air, wrapping her arm around Henry's shoulders like she needed to remember there were good things in that room too and her other hand found Mary Margaret's.

Emma was going to cut off the circulation to Killian's right hand.

He didn't even try to move.

"What did he say?" Emma pressed, and Ariel wavered, grimacing when she glanced at Robin.

He shrugged. "We already told David, A. We might as well tell the rest of them."

"Excuse me?" Ruby shouted, nearly yanking Mary Margaret out of the chair when she jumped up. "What don't we know?"

Ariel's face flushed as red as her hair and it was the first time since he'd met her in the lobby that Killian could remember her not quite willing to say what was going on. "It's not great," she warned. "Like, the opposite of great. Killian, what is the worst possible word you can think of?"

"There are kids here, A," Killian muttered, and she let out a slightly manic laugh.

"And if it involves Second Star or whatever that Neal jerk is doing, don't you think we should know?" Elsa asked. "We did agree to play spy."

"And Emma slapped Neal, so your ability to work undercover might not be so great," David mumbled, but he stopped talking as soon as he felt several glares shot his direction.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, ok," Ariel stammered. "I mean, we all bring up very good points, but the point of this was so everything would stay normal. Or normal'ish."

Ariel waved her hands through the air, trying to pull Emma's attention back from David, but she didn't actually move until Killian muttered Swan, we're fine, love in her ear and then he couldn't really think straight – green eyes staring back at him with the same kind of hope she'd had talking about school and ice cream taste tests and the entire goddamn borough of Staten Island.

"Keep going A," Killian said, and she bristled slightly at the order. "Oh my God," he sighed. "A, c'mon. Pan and the stream and the opposite of all things good."

She sighed dramatically, crossing her arms over her chest and maybe he should have been worried about her plotting his murder by the end of the night. "Fine, but only because I like Emma more than you," she chided.

"I like Emma more than me."

David made a strangled noise – trying, and failing, to swallow it when Emma's eyes flashed towards him and Mary Margaret held her hands up in very clear warning. Will mumbled something about painful flirting to Regina, but she just pulled Roland closer to her and Killian couldn't actually understand the look on her face.

"Ok, so we have pretty solid proof that Pan is not only Neal, but that Neal is working pretty closely with all things in this Lost Boys, Second Star operation," Ariel began. "Because he mentioned something on the stream the other day that didn't make sense."

Killian shook his head in confusion. "You're still not explaining this very well."

"Stop cutting me off then."

He grumbled something in the back of his throat, knees nearly giving out when Emma pushed up on her toes to kiss his cheek. "We're fine, counselor," she muttered, and maybe they were.

"You going to shut up?" Ariel asked, Will snickering from the other side of the room. "That includes you too, Scarlet. You need to pay attention because you're going to be there tomorrow and you've got to document."

Will saluted and the entire room collectively rolled its eyes. "Anyway," Ariel continued. "We've been so focused on congratulating ourselves for bringing in Hans the sleazy lawyer that we've all gotten kind of lackadaisical about the rest of it. We thought that once we got Hans, the whole operation would just fall apart, but, and this is only my opinion, I think Hans was just a means to an end. He was the legal-based muscle so to speak."

"In other words, we think that someone else is still helping Gold," David added. "And we think Hans did enough damage while he was out on the streets that the dive back into the drug trade is, like, a perfect ten."

"That was a very complicated analogy," Emma muttered. He smiled at her. And she finally started breathing again.

"Yeah, but you got it."

Ariel growled and David ducked his eyes, a not-quite audible sorry on his lips.

"It's taken forever," she said. "And I think that's why we all just figured pulling out one of the cogs of the operation would be enough. The problem, though, is that Gold is, well, at the risk of complimenting him, he's smart. There's...a fail safe, I guess. And Hans was never the second. Neal-Pan mentioned it on the stream a couple of days ago. If you just heard it, you'd have no idea, but, you know, I'm kind of smart to so…"

"Focus, Ariel," Killian muttered, and she stuck her tongue out at him.

"He mentioned faith and trust and that it would be, and I'm quoting here, available en mass sometime this week."

The room went silent.

Or as silent as a room could go when MarioKart music was still playing in the background.

"What the hell does that mean?" Ruby demanded, glancing around like she was ready to challenge anyone who didn't immediately provide her an answer.

"Oh, shit," Emma whispered. Her head snapped up towards Killian when she realized and he squeezed his eyes closed tightly.

God fucking damn.

They hadn't actually done anything.

If anything, they'd just made them all even more desperate than they'd been before and Emma had slapped Neal.

"Could someone explain to me what is going on?" Anna asked. "Is that something important?"

Emma nodded slowly, lips tugged back behind her teeth. "Faith, trust and…"

"Pixie dust," Robin finished, the words practically falling into the middle of the room and then, possibly, melting the floor.

Killian felt like he was free-falling.

"Which means what, exactly?" Elsa pressed.

Emma inhaled loudly, seemingly burrowing her way against Killian's side and one of her arms found its way around his neck, other hand back on his shirt and he couldn't come up with anything to do except kiss the top of her head.

Several times.

"It means they're going to start dealing," David said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Tomorrow. At the final."

"What?" Elsa shouted, and she wasn't the only one. Ruby gaped at David, head darting around the room and shoulders heaving, and Tink slid down the wall, legs stretched out in front of her and that might have been the first and only time Belle had ever cursed in her entire life.

Emma didn't say anything, just held onto the front of Killian's shirt like some kind of cotton-based life vest. He kissed her again.

"How do you even know that?" Ruby asked, voice cracking on the question that didn't seem actually directed at anyone.

"I mean, that's a pretty common phrase, Rubes," David reasoned. She made a fist. "Ariel, look it up. I bet under the Peter Pan references, it'd all be there."

"Do not test me, Detective Nolan."

"It is! Someone back me up on this."

"That's what they sold in New Orleans," Killian muttered, stomach clenching at the memory and the phrase and this was insane. His head hurt. That might have been the ridiculous amount of ice cream he'd eaten that afternoon.

Emma pulled her head up slowly, eyes wide and maybe just a bit desperate and he knew his smile didn't even come close to genuine. "They were the Lost Boys," he continued. "That was their whole schtick. Something about flying away and forgetting responsibilities and it's as stupid as it sounds when you say it out loud, but that's what they built an entire empire on."

"See," David challenged, and Ruby lifted her hand. He slumped in his chair. "Lucas, I am still technically injured."

"David you can't play that card now," Mary Margaret said softly, and Emma snapped her head around, twisting against Killian.

"That's why Ariel had to get you a VIP thing," she yelled. "Are you raiding the Theatre in the middle of the final tomorrow?"

David shook his head. "No, no, we are...observing. On the off chance that these idiots are actually going to try and deal in the middle of a video game tournament."

"Don't we know that already? I thought Neal made that rather blatantly obvious. And, you know, if Wesselton was back in New Orleans with Hans then it only makes sense that they'd try to move product, right? That's how this works."

"Goddamn brilliant, Swan," Killian mumbled, and she actually smiled when she turned back towards him.

Will groaned. "Jeez, they're flirting again. We're all going to get shot tomorrow and they're flirting with each other."

"You really just hate yourself, don't you?" Regina asked. He grinned.

"No one is getting shot tomorrow because no one is going to be doing anything differently than normal tomorrow," David said, voice taking on a serious edge that didn't belong in Granny's upstairs party room. "That was why we weren't going to say anything," he added, nodding in Emma's direction.

She lifted her eyebrows.

"I'm going to be there," David sighed. "Lance will be there. Half a dozen uniforms will be there. We really don't think there's going to be any trouble, but…"

"There's a but then?" Emma interrupted, and for half a moment Killian got a glimpse into that house in Storybrooke and just how protective they were of each other. Mary Margaret kept pressing her hands into her cheeks and blinking quickly, Ruby's hand rubbing out circles on her back while she muttered encouragements in her ear.

"But," David said sharply. "If something does happen and Neal-Pan or whatever name he wants to use decides that he's going to try and get a few brownie points from the boss by selling pixie dust in the middle of midtown Manhattan tomorrow, then we'll be ready for it."

"He's totally going to do it," Ariel said. "This latest Pan stream was coming from a different IP than the other ones I've been able to search."

Emma sighed. "Let me guess. It's a building Robert Gold owns?"

"Ding, ding, ding."

"And what exactly was Scarlet talking about before? Why did he know the plan and we didn't?"

"We just went over this, Em," David said. "We need you guys to be normal tomorrow. We need this to go as smoothly as possible if we're going to get all of them. We know that Jeff has experience dealing before. He'll probably run point on it if anything does actually happen."

"Won't he be kind of busy playing a video game tournament?" Killian asked, curiosity getting the better of him again and Robin tried to turn his laugh into a believable cough.

It didn't work.

And they probably shouldn't be having this conversation in front of Henry and Roland.

They were playing MarioKart again.

"You tell me," David said. "What was his game in New Orleans?"

Killian blinked at the question – not entirely prepared for a not-real police raid less than twenty-four hours before the final of this stupid video game tournament and he really just wanted to get slightly buzzed and then try and figure out how he was supposed to sleep through the night.

It was going to be fine.

"You didn't want to ask this before?" Killian questioned, and David might have absently reached for his gun. Mary Margaret mumbled oh my Godunder her breath. "You know, before the plotting or a little earlier than the night before? Or maybe while I was still working for a very prominent website? I don't even know that they'll let me in tomorrow."

"I could probably arrest you," David warned. "But, as previously discussed, you like my sister."

"Quite a bit."

"David, for real?" Emma gaped. "We're going to do this absurd overprotective thing now? Like, right now?"

He shrugged. "It's been stewing around for awhile, but I was trying to wait until I wasn't actually still walking wounded to challenge him to a duel or something."

Emma sighed, but the tension in the room seemed to dissipate just a bit when Ruby actually started to cackle. Will wrapped his arm around his waist, not quite able to hold himself upright and Anna hooked her chin over her shoulder when she started to laugh as well.

And for as frozen as the room had been before, it was the opposite in that moment – light and almost airy and neither of those things made sense because it was nine o'clock at night and the party room didn't actually have any windows.

But David almost looked serious about challenging Killian to a duel and that almost felt normal and for a few hours they all seemed to breathe just a bit easier.

The alcohol helped too.

And he'd almost gotten good at MarioKart. And Emma kept kissing his cheek.

They stayed far longer than they probably should have when there was a video game final to play the next day and a not-quite raid to stage and, maybe, arrests to be made and both Henry and Roland had fallen asleep by the time Regina announced they were leaving.

The rest of them didn't look too far behind – Anna's eyes drooping when she leaned against Will's shoulder and Ruby had her head on Belle's lap, feet draped over Elsa's thigh.

Emma's legs were twisted around Killian, one arm wrapped around his waist while he toyed with the ends of her hair.

"I have to move," Emma mumbled, and she only managed to press her head into his side.

He chuckled softly, swinging his legs up onto an empty chair in front of him. "You're doing an admirable job of it, love."

"Oh, shut up."

"Is this flirting too?"

"You're obnoxious."

"Endearing."

Emma pulled her head up, using the heel of her hand for leverage and he couldn't quite stop the hiss that fell out of him when she pushed into, at least, four different organs. "I really have to go back to M's and David's. Mary Margaret baked. I think there are actually little fondant video game controllers on the top of the cupcakes."

"When does she even find the time?"

"Ah, well, she's not worried about anyone getting shot tomorrow."

"No one is going to get shot," Killian said, but he couldn't actually promise that and that was some kind of relationship hurdle he'd never really expected.

And he'd never really expected the relationship.

"You say that with such conviction," Emma laughed, and she looked half asleep too, a mix of alcohol and far too many onion rings and chocolate sprinkles. "You're really going to be there tomorrow?"

Killian nodded. "Of course. Where else am I going to be?"

"You said that you didn't know if your credential was going to work."

"Semantics. And a very large maybe. It still says my name and, as far as I know, I'm still me. Plus, those security guards have seen us making out plenty of times, they're bound to recognize me at this point."

"We've circled right back to obnoxious."

He grinned and kissing her was a distinct type of challenge when they were trying to balance on one seat and his legs, but he'd finally gotten that buzz he was a bit desperate for and he hadn't been lying to Ariel before, so, he was willing to twist around if it meant he could feel her smile when his lips caught hers.

"I love you," she whispered, fingers working through his hair and he could feel every inch of her against every inch of him like she was a fire or flames or the center of the universe. "And I'm...if all of this was just, you know, whatever it is, then I'm glad it ended here."

He was on fire.

He was going to burn and enjoy it and then maybe evolve into the sun and then he'd orbit her or however this metaphor was going and none of it made sense because he was fairly positive that's not how the sun worked.

He took one science class his freshman year.

Maybe they could look that up when Emma went back to school.

After all of this. When it was normal again.

"It doesn't end here, Swan," Killian said, and that wasn't really what he'd planned on. "What happens next, right?"

"No more stories though."

"Maybe eventually."

"Definitely," she said, a certainty in her voice that did something to the metaphorical flames and the structure of whatever solar system he'd just come up with.

"There's cinnamon in my pocket you know."

She laughed – simple and loud and someone else mumbled to be quiet, we're sleeping – and Killian felt it in the very center of his goddamn soul, like he could feel that or had a soul and maybe he'd found both of those things when he came home.

Liam was probably laughing somewhere.

"We're never going to run out of cinnamon," Emma mumbled, pressing her lips against his neck.

"That's kind of the plan."

She didn't move her head, but he could feel her trying to tug her lips back behind her teeth and this had to work. He needed this to work. He wasn't sure what he would do if this didn't work.

"Good plan," Emma said, and Killian hummed in the back of his throat, giving up on sentiment to just try and hold her as tightly as he possibly could.

"Jones," David called from the other side of the room and both Killian and Emma twisted at the sound. They nearly fell off the chair. "A word?"

Killian glanced at Emma and she shrugged slightly, not quite as steady once their vaguely precarious balance had been altered. "I'll be right back, love," he promised, kissing here again quickly before he disentangled their limbs.

"Can I help you, Detective?" Killian asked, David leaning against the wall with his hands stuffed in his pockets. "Because I'd like to find a cab if possible."

"It's Times Square."

"Not an answer."

David rolled his eyes, but Mary Margaret had moved into Killian's vacated seat and was already braiding Emma's hair like that was just something that should happen at whatever time it actually was. "You're really going to be there tomorrow?" David asked.

"Yeah," Killian nodded. "Or, at least, breaking and entering."

"Don't tell me that."

"Helm was low level with the Lost Boys," he said, answering a question David hadn't actually asked yet. "But he knew everyone. Anyone and anything who was willing to shell over money for Pixie Dust, Helm knew about it. That's why the DA was so adamant about getting him to give up names. He's the one who would have them all."

"But Hans got Helm out early."

"Yeah, I still can't figure that part out."

"That's kind of why I wanted to talk to you," David muttered, doing his best to back up against a wall that couldn't actually move. "I think Neal helped get him out. Or told Hans to get him out."

"What?"

David clicked his tongue. "I have no proof of that except a decades worth of hating Neal Cassidy for what he did to Emma, but it almost makes sense, right? If he was there ten years ago and just disappeared off the map after he got arrested, then he must have known Helm was there too and they go way back. They screwed Emma over together."

"You think Helm was in on the betting stuff too?" Killian asked. "Do you think he's doing that here too? He seems far too low-level for that much responsibility."

"Ah, but Gold is getting desperate. We got Hans the sleazy lawyer and we, at least, can confirm the connection to Wesselton and that leads us to the shipping idea once we can get Wesselton out of New Orleans. He'll talk. I know it."

"And that, what? Leads directly to Gold?"

"It could," David said. "Something else too. I don't think anyone in the Lost Boys realize we know that Pan is Neal."

Killian snapped his head up – tracing back through a conversation with Cora and accusations and he'd never actually said it. No one expected them to know that Pan was advertising drugs on his goddamn live stream.

"Holy shit," Killian breathed, and David hummed in victory, smile inching over his face like he'd just been promoted to sergeant.

"Right? Ace up our sleeve or something that makes me sound less lame."

"Ah, that didn't sound too lame."

"I'm still more than willing arrest you."

Killian chuckled, running a hand through his hair and glancing back towards Emma – draped over several chairs now and Mary Margaret still playing with her hair and he barely had to look to know that she'd fallen asleep.

None of them were ever going to eat those cupcakes. It'd be a miracle if they ever got out of Granny's.

"Yeah, I'd imagine you are," Killian muttered. "What happens tomorrow when they do start to move stuff? Honestly."

"We arrest them. Honestly."

"Do you think Gold will be there?"

"Do you?"

"No," Killian admitted, frustration shooting down his spine and he still had so many questions it felt like there was a weight hanging off the tip of his tongue. "I don't think the asshole would risk it."

"Me either," David sighed. "You know if Cassidy even glances Emma's direction, I might actually pull my gun on him."

"She'll probably slap him again."

David hummed again, resting his head back on the wall and pulling his hands out of his pockets just to cross them over his chest. "I won't actually go through the entire speech I had prepared since I think you've kind of proved yourself, but, uh, insert something about also killing you if you don't show tomorrow or do anything that isn't exactly what you've been doing already."

"That was kind of tough to follow."

"I think you picked up on most of it."

"Aye, aye, Detective," Killian grinned. "It's going to be fine. And I've told myself that enough already that I really do almost believe it."

"Yeah, you and me both."

Emma had absolutely fallen asleep, hair draped over Mary Margaret's leg and Mary Margaret was half asleep as well by the time Killian crossed the room, crouching in front of both of them with his heart hammering against his chest.

"Swan," he said softly, brushing his fingers over the curve of her shoulder and she mumbled under her breath. "Just wake up for a few seconds, love."

She grumbled again, cracking open one eye and he felt the smile on his face as soon as she looked at him. "Are you leaving?"

"Yeah. Are you guys actually going to go home or are you just going to camp out here?"

"I really don't care."

He laughed at the answer that was more of a complaint than an answer. "I'll see you tomorrow, Swan. With coffee. Don't buy your own coffee."

"I'm going to drink coffee before I get to the Theatre."

"Naturally," he grinned. "I'll bring more."

"With cinnamon."

Killian pressed a kiss against her temple, careful not to actually run his body into Mary Margaret's knee in the process. "I understand the rules, love," he muttered, fingers still moving and tracing across the chain around her neck and she'd never actually taken it off. That made it difficult to breathe again.

"For good luck," she said softly, and he was fairly sure she was still half asleep, but his mind didn't seem to care. His pulse certainly didn't, hammering in his veins and his ears and Emma closed her eyes again.

"Exactly that."

It didn't take long to hail a cab – it was, as David pointed out, Times Square and a Friday night and it only took a few minutes to get uptown. He mumbled something that might have been thank you when he got out of the car, slamming the door closed behind him and trying to remember how he'd been able to sleep by himself for most of his life. He didn't take another step towards the building.

He didn't have a chance.

He stumbled back when a fist collided with his jaw, nearly falling off the sidewalk and he was dimly aware of his keys clattering to the ground.

"Compliments of Mr. Barrie," a low voice said, and Killian couldn't open his mouth before another punch landed and everything went black.