"Hook—" Robin impatiently slapped away the pirate's hand as he reached for another French fry. "Stop stealing my food."

"Guys, we have to come here more often," Hook said, looking between Neal and Robin. "This is so much better than Granny's."

They were at the White Rabbit, taking advantage of the Monday special. Normally, if the three of them were going to hang out, they grabbed a bite at Granny's and then came back here for a drink. But Neal had gotten a coupon last week, so here they were, enjoying the considerably better food and service of Jefferson Hatter's restaurant.

"Dude your phone's going off," Neal said, nodding at Hook's buzzing phone. Hook looked around wildly, snatching his phone up to read the text. His eyes skimmed it once, twice, three times before handing it to Robin and leaning over his shoulder to watch him type. Neal watched with raised eyebrows. When did Robin become Hook's personal assistant?

"What's this?" he asked, gesturing between the two of them.

"Robin's helping me with Ruby," Hook said distractedly, frowning at the screen. "No, don't write that, you'll make me sound like a complete git."

"I know what I'm doing, mate," Robin said, shrugging him away.

"What do you mean, he's helping you with Ruby?" Neal said, crinkling his forehead. "I thought you guys were doing okay now."

Hook glanced up wearily, as though Neal's ignorance was a major inconvenience. "Neal," he sighed. "It's a very delicate situation. I need help handling it."

"Well, why didn't you ask me? You know I'd've helped."

"No, you would have told me to get over it, and just talk to her like a normal human," Hook said impatiently. "Now, be quiet—Robin needs to focus."

Robin rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "How to approach this…" he murmured. "We can go 'sweet', we can go 'sarcastic', we can go 'sexy'." He looked up at Hook, raising an eyebrow. "Your call."

"No, no, no, it's your call," Hook said, shaking his head. "That's what you're here for."

"Well, it still needs to sound like you," Robin argued, gesturing at the phone. "Just read this, and tell me how you would respond."

"Probably slutty," Neal remarked, twisting a fry. Hook gave him an irritated look.

"You haven't even read it."

"I don't need to read it to know you'd come up with something slutty."

"Well, hang on," Robin frowned, holding up a hand. "We can go 'sexy', but we can't go 'slutty', it'll ruin the whole effect."

"Is there a difference?" Neal scoffed.

"Yes," Hook and Robin said, both looking at him as though he were incredibly stupid. Neal raised his eyebrows, holding up his hands in surrender.

"'S'cuse me," he said. "Didn't realize there was a finesse to sexting."

"It's not sexting," Robin said witheringly. "It's texting flirtatiously."

"Again, is there a difference?"

"Yes," they said exasperatedly.

"Sorry. Jesus."

"Oh, that reminds me—" Hook snapped his fingers at Neal. "I'm supposed to talk to you for Tink, so…just pretend I said something sexually harassing on her behalf, okay?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Neal, obviously I'm talking about the fact that I made a deal with Tink to talk to Ruby for me in exchange for talking to you for Tink, so if you could just cooperate with me here!" Hook inhaled sharply, and turned his face away as if he could no longer bear to look upon Neal's oblivion.

"Okay…I think I'm just about finished…" Robin held up the phone for Hook's approval; Hook squinted at it, nodding thoughtfully.

"Yes, good…good," he muttered. "But I don't care for that winky-face."

Robin looked at it. "It's charming."

"I don't use winky-faces, though."

"You should start. They're cute."

"It's a semicolon and a parentheses, Robin. Get past it."

"I'll bet Ruby thinks they're cute."

"Yes, but she thinks I'm cuter."

"You don't know that."

"Semicolon and parentheses, mate."

"Yes, but sometimes it shows up as an actual little smiley-face. See?"

"I don't care. I don't use winky-faces. Neal, tell him I don't use winky-faces."

"He doesn't use winky-faces."

"There, you see? No winky-face."

Robin sighed heavily, shaking his head as he deleted the winky-face, while Hook looked on triumphantly. Neal exhaled slowly, watching him mutter a few more instructions to Robin, pointing at the text. "Hey, can I make a request?"

"Mmm?" Hook tore his eyes away from the screen, raising his eyebrows.

"When you two get back together," Neal said, pointing between Hook and the phone, "could you not do that thing where you slam against the wall? My dresser's right up against the other side, and you guys always knock everything over."

"I thought you were staying at your dad's place?" Hook frowned.

"He didn't move to New York, he'll be back next week. Which means, I'll be back at Granny's next week, which means I'll be back next door to you next week, which means please don't slam against the wall."

"I promise nothing, Neal," Hook told him solemnly. "Wherever the moment takes us."

"Then could the moment take you to her room?" Neal said irritably.

"Oh, please," Hook said, rolling his eyes. "You're telling me you and Emma don't indulge in a little wall-slamming?"

"Okay, one—that is the most socially awkward euphemism I've ever heard in my life; two—you are the most socially awkward person I've ever met in my life; and three—boundaries, dude. Respect them."

"Does it hurt?" Robin asked, looking up from the phone. "Like, when you literally slam into the wall, does it hurt?"

Hook shrugged. "Sometimes. Depends on whether or not there's a picture frame behind me."

Robin winced. "That sounds painful."

"It can be," Hook agreed, absently rubbing the back of his head. "It can be quite painful."

Neal and Robin frowned, eyeing him suspiciously as he rubbed the back of his head. Hook dropped his hand, looking between the two of them defensively.

"What?"

"Picture frame?" Neal asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Library shelf. I was bent over to shelve some books, and I stood up and hit my head on the shelf above me. I did," he insisted as they exchanged a skeptical look.

"All right…" Robin muttered.

"Whatever you say…" Neal sighed.

"And just so you know, once you're back at Granny's, I would appreciate it if you and Emma would keep any attempts at a Henry, Part Two quiet," Hook said, raising his voice as Robin and Neal groaned at his awkwardness.

"Do you ever stop talking?" Robin said.

"It's like he's asking me to punch him," Neal said in wonder. "Like, he actually wants me to punch him."

"Yeah, I know," Robin scoffed. "Besides, I mean, there's no way you two are anywhere close to that stage of the relationship."

Neal frowned. "What do you know about it?"

"I don't know anything," he shrugged, going back to the phone. "I'm just saying, you two can't possibly be anywhere near that part."

"We already were," Neal said pointedly. "Have you met Henry? Our son?"

"Yes, you were, but that was fifteen years ago," Robin said, unfazed. "You started over, the whole relationship's back to square one. And you're barely at square one. You're more like at the part where you're still taking the little game pieces out of the box."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means, you guys are crawling," Robin said absently, his fingers moving across the keyboard rapidly.

"We just got back together—"

"It's been over a week, and you two are still just 'hanging out', like buddies."

"That's not true."

"Really? Have you guys even had an official date yet?" Robin asked, still typing away. "Or are you still in the pizza-at-home-stage?"

"What are you talking about?" Neal frowned. "That is a date."

Hook snorted. "No, it's not."

"Yes, it is," Neal insisted.

"No, it's not," Hook said matter-of-factly. "A date is when you dress up, you go out to a nice restaurant, you make eyes at each other over the bread basket, and you spend the night whispering sweet nothings in each other's ear."

Neal made a face. "Okay, I'm not doing any of that."

"You have to," Hook shrugged. "Or you're not going to be doing any of Emma, either."

"See, this is why I have to help him," Robin said to Neal, grimacing. Hook nodded in agreement. "But he's right, you really should take her somewhere nice for an actual date."

Neal looked between the two of them, scoffing. "Emma's not even into the whole fancy-restaurant-thing, anyway. Trust me, I know her better than you do."

"Perhaps," Hook said, lifting an eyebrow. "But you're the boyfriend. There are certain things she's not going to tell you that she might instead choose to confide in….oh, I don't know, the best friend?"

Neal stared at him dryly. "Is it you?"

"She wants a for-reals date, Neal," Hook said flatly. "You better do it."

"She told you this."

"Yes."

"When?"

"Yesterday."

"Really."

"Yes, really. She came by the library to use the printer because the station's printer is a piece of shit, and then I made her stay and talk to me, and she got me back for that by spending the whole time complaining about things in general. And one of them was that you guys don't do enough couple-y stuff. So concerned was I—" Hook put a hand to his heart and sighed deeply, as if in awe by his own heroism—"I didn't even make a joke about doing couple-y stuff. So, you see, Neal, you really should take my advice or you are going to have one unhappy lady love on your hands."

"We do couple-y stuff—ha, ha, it's hilarious, Hook. Jesus Christ, grow up already—we do the couple-y stuff, okay? We get coffee every morning, that's a couple thing. We sit on the same side of the booth sometimes. We hang out all the time at my dad's place, just us—"

"Just as well," Hook piped up. "Watching television and eating cereal out of the box really is a private couple matter, don't you think?"

Neal gave him an annoyed look. "Don't you have a text from Ruby to squeal over?"

"No, I'm still waiting for her to text me back. Then I'll squeal." Hook stole another of Robin's fries and, ignoring Robin's protests, pointed it at Neal. "Take that woman out to a nice restaurant, give her a little romance. Trust me, I know what I'm talking about."

Neal raised his eyebrows. "Says the only one of us without a girlfriend."

"Those circumstances are going to be changing quite soon, I assure you," Hook said, snatching up his phone. "We are in a very delicate transition phase."

"That's not a transition phase," Neal said, nodding at the phone. "That's how middle-schoolers act when they like like someone."

Hook waved his hand vaguely at Neal, his eyes firmly fixed on his phone. "Whatever you say mate. Now, if you could just keep it down, I have to think…."

"Thinking isn't going to make her text back any faster."

"It might."

"It won't."

"You're distracting me. Shut up."

Neal rolled his eyes. "Okay, well, when you're done thinking, you guys want to grab a drink? I could go for a little something."

"You have to drive me back home," Hook frowned, not looking up. "No drinking for you."

"I said, a drink. Not, let's get wasted." Neal turned to Robin. "What do you say? You up for it?"

"No, I should be getting back soon," Robin sighed, checking his watch. "Regina's still sick, I don't want to leave her alone for too long."

"She's still sick?" Neal said, raising his eyebrows. "What's wrong with her? That's going on a couple weeks now, isn't it?"

"I don't know what it is," Robin said, rubbing his eyes. "She's got headaches, backaches, stomachaches…throwing up every other day, completely exhausted, lost her appetite…I'm starting to get worried."

"Maybe she's got one of those baby-things in her," Hook said distractedly, frowning at his phone screen. Neal's eyebrows shot up; Robin's head snapped to the side, looking at Hook with wide eyes.

"Excuse me?"

"Baby," Hook repeated, setting his phone down with a sigh. "Still hasn't texted back, if that's what you're—"

"What do you mean, 'a baby-thing inside her'?" Robin asked in a panicked voice, starting to hyperventilate. "You think she's pregnant?"

"Not listening, not listening!" Neal said loudly, putting his hands over his ears. If there was one thing he didn't need to hear about, it was his sister being pregnant by one of his friends. Now that was disgusting, definitely something he didn't need to hear about—especially over dinner.

"I don't bloody know, do I?" Hook said irritably. "Do I look like a doctor?"

"No, you look more like a slutty version of the Fonz, but that's beside the point. You honestly think Regina could be pregnant?"

"Robin, please!" Neal begged, squeezing his hands even more tightly over his ears.

"I don't know, mate!" Hook said exasperatedly. "Now stop bothering me! I've got to figure out a way to transition from text-flirting to talk-flirting, so I can just ask Ruby out and get my girlfriend back! And I can't do that with you talking my bloody ear off about Regina's cravings! Now, shut up!"

He shook his head at Neal, mouthing Unbelievable! and went back to his phone. Robin exchanged an incredulous look with Neal, and slowly turned back to Hook, staring at him in disbelief.

"How can you possibly be so self-absorbed?"

"Years of practice."

"It's extraordinary," Robin said in wonder. "Every time I think you've reached the highest level of selfishness a person can achieve, you find another rung on the ladder."

"Thanks."

"It's not a compliment, mate."

"I know. I'm choosing to take it as a compliment."

Robin closed his eyes. "Okay," he said, getting up from his seat. "I have to go. Before I punch him."

"Bye," Neal said, propping his feet up on Robin's now-vacant chair.

"Bye."

"Hey, Robin…" Hook called out distractedly.

Robin turned, pausing in his walk out. "What?"

"Nothing, really, just…if you need ideas—" Hook looked up from his phone, grinning—"Chloe's a pretty name for a girl."

How much do you love this BroT3? I always thought they'd be great friends together.