Neal was sitting on his bed, flipping through a magazine, when he heard the sounds of feet half-shuffling, half-stumbling down the hall. "Goddamn it, Hook!" he heard Emma's voice say, and he frowned suspiciously. Why was Emma…why was Hook…?

"Oh, no, no, no, no, no," he muttered angrily, throwing down the magazine and swinging out of of bed. "No, no, no, no, no. No. No. Not happening. Not. Happening."

Neal opened the door, and leaned against the doorframe, folding his arms. "AHEM."

Emma looked up, struggling under the weight of a clearly drunk Hook. "Neal!" she said in relief. "Help me, would you? I can't…" she gave him an impatient tug as his head lolled back. "Please?" she said desperately.

Neal reluctantly went over, draping Hook's other arm around his shoulder, exhaling impatiently as the pointy metal hook swung annoying close to his face. "Holy shit," he cursed, staggering under his weight. "How is this even possible?"

"I think it's his coat," Emma said, peeking over at him with raised eyebrows. "Do you think we should—?"

"Yeah, put him down," Neal said, and they unceremoniously let him drop to the floor. Hook frowned in discomfort as they bent his arms back, trying to tug the ridiculous coat off him.

"Stop…" he whined softly.

"Emma, hurry up!" Neal hissed.

"I'm trying!" she snapped back. "His rings keep getting caught!"

"Just…here, switch with me." They dropped Hook again and switched sides. Neal gave up trying to maneuver the bejeweled hand out of the sleeve, and yanked off the rings, which made it considerably easier to tug the coat off Hook's right side. Emma was struggling with the left.

"It's the hook! I don't know how to detach it!" she said defensively at Neal's exasperated groan.

"Emma…"

"I''m sorry!" she said in a loud whisper as he bent down to help her with the left sleeve.

"Just pull it."

"I'm pulling."

"Well, you're not pulling hard enough—"

"Neal, I am doing the best I—"

"—pull harder—

"—it's caught on the—"

"—just—"

"—don't—"

"TEAR IT!" they shouted together, and with a loud rip!, the hook sliced clean through the coat, leaving the sleeve in tatters. Emma's hands clamped over her mouth as she stared down at it, her eyes wide in horror.

"He's going to kill us!" she squeaked.

"He's not going to—"

"Neal, he's going to kill us," she said scoffingly, dropping her hands as she glared at him.

"Yeah, well…" Neal tried to quell the nervous feeling in his stomach, but he knew that tomorrow morning, when Hook woke up and saw the remains of his beloved coat, things would get ugly. Hell hath no fury like a Hook scorned. "Let's just get him into his room, we'll worry about that tomorrow."

Emma bit her lip worryingly, but helped Neal drag the now completely unconscious pirate into his room. She looked over at the bed, but Neal shook his head. "There is no way in hell I am cradling Hook in my arms—"

"All right!" she said irritably. "At least give him a pillow."

Neal took the pillow off the bed and tossed it so it landed on Hook's face. He grinned at Emma sarcastically. "Mission accomplished."

"Neal—" Emma gritted her teeth and sat back on her heels to prop the pillow under his head. Neal watched with folded arms and clenched jaw. Emma glanced up at him. "Don't give me that look."

"I'm not giving a look."

"You're giving a look."

"Fine," he shrugged. "I'm giving a look."

"Well, go easy on him," Emma said, pushing herself into a standing position with a sigh. She looked down at their drunken sailor sadly. "He's had a rough day."

Good. "Why, what happened?" Neal asked, trying to sound nonchalant. Emma side-eyed him warily. He raised his hands defensively. "Hey, I'm just trying to be supportive here." Because that's me, being awesome.

"I shouldn't—" she began, shaking her head, but Neal interrupted her with a laugh.

"Emma, it's me." (Work that grin, Cassidy, work it! he ordered himself). "Come on, we'll just go grab a coffee, take a walk… and you can just vent till you've got everything off your chest." (Take her hand—softly, SOFTLY…there you go.) "Come on."

Emma smiled tiredly, and allowed Neal to lead her downstairs. A furious Ruby, who had just been about to shut everything down, slammed two coffee cups on the counter, and practically ran them out the door.

"She is not in a good mood," Neal remarked, looking over his shoulder. Emma shrugged, sipping her coffee.

"She's upset. There's this guy she likes—"

"Jason. And he's going out with the drugstore-whore," Neal nodded wearily, having heard the story from Ruby four times already. Emma raised her eyebrows.

"Ah, but did you know that Billy totally asked her out to a concert, and now she's got a chance to see if Jason, like, like-likes her?"

"Yeah, but that skank is going to be, like, breathing down their necks. I mean, F. Her. L."

They broke off into laughter. Sure, it was a cheap shot, but making fun of Ruby was just so much fun.

"So, uh…"Neal looked at her sideways. "What happened with Pirate Pete today?"

Emma looked back, unimpressed. "'Pirate Pete'? That's what you're going with?"

"I'm running out of derogatory nicknames," he shrugged.

Emma rolled her eyes, but good-naturedly. "Well," she said, tapping her fingers on the cup. "You know how Hook is…" She took a sip. "Over-eager."

Neal choked. "I'm not sure I want to hear the rest of this story."

"Neal," Emma whined. "Why do you always have to make it weirder than it is?"

"Well, if you say—" he put on a mockingly sultry voice—"over-eager—"

"Oh, my GOD, would you stop?" she complained, hitting him as he started laughing. "Neal, come on, don't!"

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

Emma narrowed her eyes. "No, you're not."

"No, I'm not," he agreed.

She ruefully smiled at him, but continued. "So we're at the diner. Talking about…I don't know, cereal—"

"Cereal…"

"Neal."

"I'll stop."

Emma took a breath. "We're talking about cereal… Everything's fine, everything's nice, normal. Just not….weird."

"Okay…" Neal nodded slowly. "Go on."

"And then out of nowhere, he says, 'So, Emma, when do you want me to move in?'"

Neal spit out his coffee.

"I mean, what do you say to that?" Emma said, throwing her hands up. "Anyone else, and I'd have…" She trailed off and tilted her head back, groaning. "I feel bad, 'cause….you know, he's still adjusting…and he doesn't really have many friends here…or in general. But still, he's got to learn sometime, doesn't he?"

"Hey, I'm with you. I mean, if he's going to live in this world, he's got to learn how it works." Neal was thankful for the darkness, so Emma couldn't see him fight the triumphant smile on his face. "So…what'd you say?"

Emma gave him a look. "What do you think I said?" she said witheringly as he snorted into his coffee. "I tried to let him down as easy as possible, but you know how he is… I said, 'Actually, I think it might be better if we just hold off on that for a while, okay?' And now he thinks I hate him."

"Meh…" Neal shrugged dismissively. "He'll get over it."

"Will he?" Emma said worriedly as they sat down on a bench. She curled her knees to her chest, nervously twirling the leather cord around her wrist. Neal frowned at it. The hell is that thing? He didn't remember giving Emma anything like that. Was it from Hook? Somehow, he doubted it. It just…wasn't his style.

"…really do like him, though," Emma was saying wistfully. "He can be a real sweetheart, you know?"

"Uh… yeah." Neal blinked a few times, then smiled through clenched teeth. "Yeah, he's a sweetie." Now say something bad about him.

"And really romantic…"

"Oh, so romantic." He's an idiot. He's a pompous moron.

"And, oh. My. God, is he hot."

Neal scratched the back of his neck. "Well, that—that's one way to put it." He's a manwhore.

"No. Neal. You don't understand. I mean, he is hot."

"Total dreamboat." Probably has more STDs than Game of Thrones.

"Like, personally-responsible-for-global-warming-hot—"

"Okay, I got it!" he said loudly.

"But…." Emma sighed with her whole body. "He's just so….emotional."

"There it is," Neal said under his breath.

"He just—" Emma waved her hands, searching for words—"FEELS."

"I know."

"He just feels!" she repeated, dropping her hands. "He feels SO much. All the time! H-h-he never stops feeling, not for a minute!"

"I know."

"I mean, I care about him," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "He's still a good guy. He's still my friend."

"But?"

Emma looked at him wearily. "He's smothering," she moaned. "He comes after me with these speeches a-a-and these gestures and these—these vows and oaths and—" she covered her eyes exasperatedly—"and these declarations of undying love…"

Neal coughed. "Wow. That's,uh… that's pretty intense." He raised his eyebrows, fighting the laughter in his throat. "Undying love."

"But I mean, day after day after day!" she complained. "It's always 'Emma, I'm going to fight for you', and 'Emma, I'm going to win your heart'….'Emma, I will never stop thinking of you'. And I'm just like…'Hook. I know. You told me fifteen times.'"

"He's very…" Neal had to bite down on his knuckle to stifle the laughter. "He's very determined, isn't he?" he finished in a strained voice.

"It's not funny."Emma carefully avoided looking at him, her mouth twitching as she fought to keep a straight face.

"Mmm," he managed, pressing his hand hard against his mouth. Uncontrollable laughter threatened to spill out, forcing him to turn his head and fixate on something in the distance.

"I should go," Emma said finally, clearly swallowing her own laughter.

"Yeah, take care," he squeaked, tears leaking from his eyes. Neal waited until the sound of Emma's boots had disappeared before collapsing into laughter.