"And you wanna fold in the egg whites. Don't mix them, or you'll lose all that air in there, and the whole thing will melt. So just fold…"

"Did she say anything about a rubber spatula being better than a plastic one?" David asked, scribbling down Giada's instructions furiously. "Henry!"

Henry let out a startled breath, jerking awake. "What? What?"

"Did she say anything about a rubber or plastic spatula?"

"What? I don't know."

David rolled his eyes impatiently, and elbowed Hook. "Did you hear her say anything about a spatula?"

Hook shrugged, playing a game of Candy Crush on his phone.

David blew out a frustrated breath, and resumed taking notes on Giada's Christmas mousse. He didn't have time to deal with Hook's and Henry's ignorance: there was mousse in the making.

In all honesty, he didn't care so much about mousse (he already had a fantastic soufflé recipe that had taught him the basic art of egg white folding): what he really needed was something to distract himself from what was going on upstairs. Emma. Getting ready for a date. With Neal.

He liked Neal. Neal was a nice guy. Neal was a fun guy. Neal was a good guy.

But Neal was a guy.

He couldn't help feeling protective: Emma was his little girl. It was normal for him to feel the need to censor his thoughts firmly away from the two of them together. Fathers were always suspicious of their daughters' boyfriends, and he didn't care how nice or fun or good Neal was, he was still"The Boyfriend". And that made him the enemy.

David had missed twenty-eight years of Emma's life, and it still felt like he had just got her back. And now Neal wanted to take her away.

"She's a grown woman, David," Snow would remind him patiently. "She's not a kid. You have to let go."

"I know," David would sigh. And he did know: he wished he didn't, but he did. There was nothing he could really do, except sit here and try to distract himself with Giada's mousse recipe.

"Okay," Emma's voice called as she came clunking down the stairs. "What about this one?"

The three of them twisted in their seats to look at the third dress Emma had tried on: it was a pink V-necked, swirly-skirted dress that left her arms mostly bare. Emma gave a little twirl, raising her eyebrows.

"Well?"

David exchanged a look with Hook, was frowning critically at it. "No good?"

"No good," he agreed. "Emma, darling, don't take this the wrong way, but you've got to—"

"Cover up—"

"—slut it up."

David whirled around wildly, staring at Hook with wide eyes. "Slut it up?"

"The skirt's too long!" Hook said defensively.

"Okay, but other than the skirt," Emma cut in, raising her voice over David's sputters. "Seriously—how do I look?"

"Stunning," Hook said promptly. "You look absolutely stunning."

Emma smiled. "Really?"

"Yes, of course, love. That dress is so ugly, I am utterly stunned by how ugly it is."

The smile slid off her face. "You're an asshole," she said, stomping back up the stairs to Snow and Ruby. "Apparently, it's stunningly ugly," they heard her say witheringly.

"And don't wear your hair in the high ponytail!" Hook yelled up the stair, his voice blaring in David's ear. "You look like an extra on Grease!"

"So do you!"

"Yeah, but I pull it off," Hook muttered, settling back in his seat. He nudged David. "I'm right, aren't I? That dress was ugly."

David grimaced at him, still hearing the words "slut it up" echo repeatedly in his head. Hook raised his eyebrows.

"What? Am I the only one who thought it was ugly?"

David closed his eyes exasperatedly, picking up his notepad again. "Let's just go back to Giada, okay? I have to research. Regina's Christmas party is in two weeks, and I still don't know what I'm making."

"Just bring a bottle of wine like everyone else," Hook scoffed.

"You're supposed to bring food," David frowned. "It's a social custom. You bring food to a Christmas party; you just do. Besides—" he straightened himself in his seat, feeling important—"I'm not just bringing food as a guest. Regina asked me to help her with all the cooking and baking—"

"Sounds like lots of fun," Hook said, losing interest in David as Penelope Cruz twirled onscreen, explaining why Revlon was mankind's greatest creation. David frowned disapprovingly.

"Hook—"

"Shh," Hook said, not taking his eyes off the screen. "Penelope's speaking."

"You have a girlfriend."

"Who shushes me every time Chris Hemsworth takes his shirt off. Now, shh."

David turned to exchange an exasperated look with Henry, but he had long since lost interest in the conversation and was now typing rapidly on his phone. David leaned back, trying to read the screen.

"Who's—" he squinted—"Violet?"

"No one you know," Henry said absently, shifting away from David's eyes.

"I know she's no one I know. That's why I asked who she was."

Henry made an impatient noise and got up from the couch, shunting off to his room. David watched him go with raised eyebrows. Why was it, that no matter what he did, he always seemed to exasperate Henry? The only reaction he ever got from him anymore was an eyeroll or a smart-ass response.

"What is it with that kid?" David asked, shaking his head as he sat back in his seat. "He used to be so much—"

"Shorter?"

"Nicer."

"Oh." Hook looked away from the screen as Penelope twirled herself out, and lightly hit David in the shoulder. "Hey, I got a question for you."

"Hmm?"

Hook shifted his eyes around, lowering his voice. "I don't know what to get Ruby for Christmas," he said. "Approximately, how much thought should I put into it for having dated a combined…fourish, maybe five weeks?"

David crinkled his brow. "Are you asking me to calculate how much thought you should put into a gift?"

"Yes," Hook said, nonplussed.

"Hook—"

"Neal says, that there is such a thing as too much thought," Hook explained quickly. "See, if you put too much thought into a premature relationship, you're potentially overstepping your boundaries and making presumptions. And if you don't put enough thought in, then that comes off as not being interested in making a long-term commitment and just looking for a good time. And if you don't put in just the right balance of thought, it looks like you're not educated about the relationship status, and you haven't been paying attention, and you're not invested in it as much as the other person, so yes, David. I am asking you to calculate how much thought I should put into this gift."

"Maybe you should ask Neal," David said, turning away from Hook as Giada returned to start her demonstration on sweet potatoes. "He seems to be an expert."

"Yes, but you know Ruby so much better," Hook insisted.

"Get her a wolf-thingy," David said distractedly as Giada explained the many virtues of sweet potatoes. "She likes wolves."

"But what kind of wolf-thingy?"

"Can we do this later? I'm—"

"Researching, right." Hook rolled his eyes, muttering something about how stupid it was to take notes on something people weren't even going to eat (which David chose to ignore).

"Okay!" Emma called out, balancing carefully on her heels as she came down the stairs. "How about this one?"

David and Hook twisted around yet again, giving her an appraising look. Dress Number Four was a simple, short black one: too form-fitting for David's comfort, but Hook was nodding emphatically.

"You see? That is the appropriate mixture of slutty and classy."

"Thanks," Emma grinned, apparently taking it as a compliment. "Dad? What do you think?"

David shifted uncomfortably. "It's a little tight, isn't it?"

"Tight?" Emma looked down at herself, then back up. "No, I don't think so."

"You sure?" David scratched the back of his head, looking for a polite way to say, You look like a hooker. He was saved the trouble as Ruby and Snow came clattering down the steps, beaming.

"Doesn't she look great?" Ruby squealed, as Snow snapped a few pictures with her camera. "I did her make-up."

"You don't think you're going to get a little cold?" David said desperately. "It's really short, Emma…"

"Well, I've got a coat," Emma shrugged. "Besides, it's not like we're going to be outside. We're going to a restaurant. You know, that little Italian place."

"Oh." Ruby raised her eyebrows, impressed. "That's a nice place."

"Yeah, it is." Emma looked around as Snow snapped a few more pictures. "Mom, give it a rest, huh?"

"Oh, let her have her fun," Ruby said, motioning for David to scoot over so she could sit next to Hook. "She never got to see you off to one of her lame balls."

"Hey!" Snow said, stung. "They weren't lame! Right, David?"

David leaned his head back to look at her upside down. "They were a little lame," he smiled. Snow rolled her eyes, flicking his head.

"You're just saying that because—"

She broke off as someone knocked on the door; everyone whipped around.

"Em?" Neal called, his voice slightly muffled. "You ready?"

"Wait, don't let him in yet!" Emma said wildly as David got up. "I have to go upstairs, so I can make a grand entrance!"

"No, come on, Em, don't do the grand entrance thing!" Neal complained from outside. "Can't we just—?"

"Grand entrance!" Emma insisted, scrambling as fast up the stairs as her heels allowed. "Not yet, Dad, not yet!"

David closed his eyes exasperatedly, keeping his hand on the handle. "Can I let him in yet?"

"Not yet!"

He could hear Neal hitting his head against the door.

"Can I let him in yet?"

"Yeah, let him in!"

David opened the door. Neal was standing there with his hands in his pockets, raising his eyebrows dryly.

"Oh, am I allowed in now?" he asked, stepping past David into the loft. David slowly closed the door behind him, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Neal." Ruby looked up from watching Hook play Candy Crush to give Neal a once-over, nodding in approval. "You look nice."

Hook frowned, slumping his head on Ruby's shoulder and making a soft whining sound. Neal rolled his eyes while Ruby laughed, pushing his head back up.

"Emma, come on!"

"I'm coming!"

David folded his arms, frowning as Neal drifted to the foot of the steps to watch Emma come down.

She didn't clunk down like she had before; she walked down gracefully, her fingers lightly resting on the railing, an almost shy kind of smile on her face as she stopped on the step just above Neal.

"Nice entrance," he grinned.

"Right?" She looked him up and down, absently adjusting his jacket collar. "This is a nice suit."

"Yeah, my dad made me go to his tailor," Neal said, stretching out his arms and examining the sleeves. "Not gonna lie, it was probably the most boring afternoon of my entire life."

"What does a tailor even do?" Emma asked, motioning for Neal to follow her to the coat rack. "I know they have tape measures, but that's about it."

"I don't know," Neal said as he lifted her coat off the hook, holding it out for her to poke her arms through the sleeves. "Custom-fit your clothes, I think."

"Why not just buy clothes that fit to begin with?"

"Because overcomplicating things is very fashionable right now."

Emma fluffed her hair out of her coat as she walked to the door, Neal following closely behind. She raised her eyebrows at David, who was still hovering by the door.

"Bye, Dad," she said, giving him a meaningful look.

David looked past her, frowning at Neal. "What time you guys going to be home?" he asked. "Not too late, I hope?"

"We'll see," Emma said icily, staring daggers at him. Don't you dare humiliate me, her eyes said. David pretended not to notice, leaning against the doorframe to block their path.

"So, Neal," he said. "I think it's time we discuss your intentions with my daughter."

Neal's eyebrows shot up. "I'm sorry?"

"Your intentions with my daughter," David enunciated. "What are they?"

"Oh, I think we all know Neal's intentions," Hook grinned from the sofa. "You've met Henry, haven't you?"

Emma gave him a withering look, laughing sarcastically. "Funny."

"I try," Hook shrugged, going back to his game. David spared him a disgusted look before turning back to Emma and Neal.

"Have her back by—"

"Oh, my God," Emma said loudly. "Mom, get him out of here!"

"David—" Snow walked over, snapping another picture before she gripped his arm and tugged him away from the door. "Come on, let them go."

Emma huffed, swinging the door open. "Thank you," she said to Snow, giving David one last disparaging look over her shoulder; Neal smiled awkwardly at David, putting his hand up in a parting wave before following Emma out the door.

"They are so cute together," Snow grinned, going through her pictures. "Aww…look how happy they are!"

David frowned, leaning over her shoulder to look. "How can you tell? That's just a picture of their shoes."

"Oh, yeah—I dropped the camera, and the button clicked. No, no, no, I meant this one." Snow triumphantly held up the camera, showing him the picture she'd taken of them at the stairs. "See?"

They looked happy. Not just in-a-good-mood-happy or doing-something-fun-tonight-happy, but happy. David looked at the picture, feeling his heart swell and break at the same time: Emma, his little girl, his little princess…all he wanted was for her to be happy. And if Neal was what it took to make her happy, fine. He could reconcile himself to that. He didn't particularly like it, but he could reconcile himself to that.

Hopefully.