In Storybrooke, the week before Christmas was remarkably similar to The Hunger Games: people were frantically rummaging through stores, scavenging for food and last-minute presents, struggling against their rivals for dominance and victory; an ugly, bloodthirsty, murderous side they didn't know they had came out, tearing friends and family apart; people were like vicious, wild animals, doing whatever was necessary to survive. It was a spectacle that was so horrifying, it was fascinating; a source of entertainment for the nonparticipating onlookers, a fight to the death for everyone else.

The holiday stress acted like salt in an already irritated, infected wound: adding fuel to fires that already burned high; turning what had been disagreements into wars. Parent turned on child; friend on friend; man on wife's-friend-who-said-apalling-things-about-his-son.

Ah, Christmas…

Belle looked over her shoulder to make sure Rumple was out of the kitchen before she dumped out the still-full coffee pot. There were only a few days left before Christmas, no way was she going to survive the chaos on Rumple's coffee.

"Thank you," Tink drawled, kicking her feet up on Belle's vacant chair. "Do me a favor—tell him not to make coffee anymore; it offends me as a coffee drinker."

"Maybe if you stopped making offensive comments about his son, he wouldn't keep making offensive coffee," Belle returned, scooping out more coffee. "Oh, that reminds me—Rumple's got Neal coming over pretty soon, so keep your mouth shut, okay? No one needs to hear about your latest fantasy."

"Why's Gorgeous McSexy coming over here?" Tink said with a wry smile.

Belle closed her eyes. "Tink…"

"Okay, fine. Why's Mr. Cassidy coming over?"

"Rumple needs help organizing his finances or something, he's got all these different accounts to keep track of—"

"YAWN," Tink said obnoxiously. "Is that coffee done yet?"

"Give me a minute." Belle snapped the lid over the top, and set the percolator to brew. She heard the front door open, and Rumple's voice call out delightedly, "Bae! Merry Christmas!"

"'Bae'?" Neal repeated, his voice getting louder as their footsteps walked to the kitchen. "You haven't called me that in a while."

"It's Christmas," Rumple said, pushing open the door. "I always get a little more nostalgic around Christmastime…remembering the old days…"

Belle turned around worriedly, hearing the dangerous quiver to Rumple's voice. Neal exchanged a look with her over his head. Say something, Belle mouthed.

Neal hesitantly put a hand on his father's shoulder. "Okay," he said, clearly uncomfortable. "Let's not get all…sentimental here."

Tink whirled around in her seat without warning. "Well, hello, Mr. McSexy," she purred. "You're looking damn fine today."

Neal raised his eyes to the ceiling. "God, I miss the days when you couldn't talk in front of me."

"So do I," Rumple said, looking green. "Goddamn it, now I'm nostalgic for those days, too."

"I read a self-help book," Tink shrugged. "Plus, I've learned that maintaining a slight drunkenness at all times really kicks up the self-confidence."

"Get sober," Neal said flatly.

"Get out," Rumple added.

"So, Neal, let me ask you something—do you wake up with a plan in mind to look so irresistible, or does it just happen?"

"Tink—" Belle said quickly.

"By the way, how do you feel about chocolate syrup? Personally, I think it's extremely arousing."

"I think it's the stuff my kid uses to make chocolate milk," Neal said dryly. "And now I'm going to go. Dad, I'm going to grab your files and get out of here, okay?"

"Run fast, Bae," Rumple said, glaring at Tink.

"Will do." Neal nodded at Belle, patted Rumple's shoulder again, and left the room, muttering something about how alcohol brought out the worst in people.

"Hey, leave some room under that mistletoe for me!" Tink called after him as the door swung shut. "Sexy little—"

"AAAGH!" Rumple shouted, little sparks erupting from his fingers.

"Rumple!" Belle gasped, her hands flying to her face. Tink's eyebrows shot up, but she seemed otherwise unfazed.

"Well," she said. "Someone's relapsing."

"How many times do I have to say it?" Rumple demanded furiously. "Don't talk about him like that!"

"It's not my fault he's S.A.H."

"Sah?" Belle frowned.

"'Sexy as hell'."

"Oh."

"No wonder his name is 'Baelfire', because he is so hot—"

"STOP!" Rumple shouted.

"No can do, little man," Tink shrugged. "Maybe I just need to get Neal out of my system.. Well, more like into—"

"Tink, DON'T!" Belle said instantly, seeing the sparks around Rumple's fingers again. "Rumple, please—try to control yourself, you've been doing so well—"

"GET HER OUT!"

"Okay," Belle said; she hooked her arm around Tink's elbow, ignoring her protests, and started to pull her out the door. "Let's go."

"Come on," Tink grumbled. "I didn't even get my coffee."

"Get it at Granny's," Belle muttered back. "Seriously, you have to leave now. I think you've got Rumple at the point where he prefers Hook's company to yours."

"That's a little harsh, don't you think?" Tink snapped as Belle pulled her across the family room.

"Hook never makes him lose control over magic," Belle said, casting a worried glance over her shoulder. "Honestly, Tink, I don't know if you should keep coming over here if you're going to upset him like this."

"But what about Margarita Monday?" Tink whined, even as Belle swung open the front door and pushed her out. "Dude—"

She slammed the door in Tink's face, and braced her hands flat against it as Tink immediately tried to twist the handle. "Go away, Tink!" she called through the door. "Have a merry Christmas, and get the fuck off my porch!"

"Hey!" Tink hammered indignantly on the door. "Let me in, I didn't get my coffee!"

"No!" Belle shouted back, her heels digging determinedly into the floor as Tink tried to shove her shoulder against the door. "Go away!"

"Coffee!"

"No!"

"Coffee!"

"No!"

"Coffee!"

"Rumple, bring me a cup of coffee!"

"Why?"

"Now!"

Rumple clattered around in the kitchen for a minute, then burst into the room, balancing a cup of coffee in his hands. "Here. Why do you—?"

Belle snatched it out of his hands, opened the door a crack, and shoved it at Tink. "Here's your coffee, now go away!"

"All right, thanks," Tink said as the door closed. "Merry Christmas, assholes."

Neal pushed open the door, lifting the strap of his shoulder bag over his head. With a sigh, he tossed it on the couch (which Rumple had insisted on buying for him and Emma, since Neal had agreed to help him organize his finances); and then dropped exhaustedly next to it.

Between the panic of last-minute shopping, the frustration of tracking down Rumple's old receipts and financial records, and most recently, Tink's newfound confidence, it hadn't been an easy week. It had been mentally and physically exhausting. There was too much to do, too much to think about…all he wanted to do was take two minutes to sleep, forget his troubles, pretend he didn't have anything to worry about—

He frowned, feeling something sharp dig into his back. "What the…?" Neal twisted around, patting his hand between the sofa cushions to find the culprit: handcuffs.

But they weren't like Emma's standard-issued station handcuffs: actually, they were kind of skanky-looking. Neal lifted them higher, squinting incredulously at the black leather, the red fur lining—

A girl's laughter rang out from upstairs: Ruby. Neal's eyes widened furiously; he dropped the cuffs, abruptly standing up.

"HOOK!"

There was the sound of stifled laughter, a little scuffling around with several whispered, "Shh!" 's through choked laughter. Neal clenched his teeth, glaring mutinously up the stairs. If he honestly thought he was going to get away with this…

"HOOK!" he shouted again.

A pause. Then: "…Wha-at?" Hook's voice called out innocently.

"Get. Down. Here," Neal growled, struggling to breathe through his rage.

"…Why?"

"I need to talk to you."

"About what?"

"If you're not down here in five seconds, I'm evicting you."

"Coming!" Hook said hurriedly.

Neal glowered as he waited, hearing a few more scuffling sounds and frantic footsteps (alternating between shoe and bare foot); a couple more whispers, and then an extremely audible, "Just pretend you're not here!"

"I'm waiting!" Neal called up the stairs.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming!"

Hook half-skated, half-tripped down the steps, landing unevenly on one booted and one bare foot in front of Neal. "Hey, mate," he said, trying to discreetly smooth his incriminatingly disheveled appearance. "How are you? Merry Christmas, by the way, I love you."

Neal took a steadying breath, forcing himself to unfold his fists. "Hook—"

"You look absolutely adorable today, in case no one's told you yet. That sweater really brings out your eyes."

"Hook—"

"So, I'm fine, actually. I've got a lot of Christmas stuff to take care of yet, so I've been hiding out here, trying to get some stuff done—"

"No, I know what stuff you've been getting done!" Neal snapped. Hook shifted his eyes around guiltily, scratching the side of his face.

"I, uh—ahem—I don't know what you're talking about."

"Your shirt's on backwards, dumbass."

"Shit—" Hook looked down at himself, cursing under his breath. "Shit, shit, shit…"

"And you're missing a shoe."

"I am? Oh. I am." Hook blew out a frustrated breath, and trailed his eyes back to up to Neal. "Well, this is awkward."

"And what the hell is this?" Neal said, kicking the cuffs toward him. "What is this?"

"Those would be handcuffs—"

"I KNOW THEY'RE HANDCUFFS!" he shouted over him. "Why are they in here?"

"Um—" Hook coughed into his fist. "I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"No, I don't."

"Really."

"Really, really."

Neal narrowed his eyes witheringly. "Tell Ruby to come down here."

"Ruby?" Hook frowned. "Ruby? Ruby who?"

"Lucas, you idiot, Ruby Lucas! You know—tall, skinny, turns into a wolf?"

"Oh, that Ruby."

"Yes, that Ruby."

"Well, she, uh—" Hook tugged nervously at his collar. "She's actually not here right now, can I take a message?"

"RUBY!" Neal yelled, not taking his eyes off Hook.

"…Yeah?"

Neal smiled sarcastically as Hook gritted his teeth and swore under his breath. "Could you come down here?"

"…Yeah."

Neal folded his arms, staring straight at Hook, who was doing his very best to avoid Neal's gaze. Ruby thumped down the steps, tottering in her obnoxiously bright red heels. She guiltily tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she went to stand next to Hook, looking equally disheveled.

"Hi, Neal," she said quietly. "Hook's right—you look adorbs today."

"I told you, guys," Neal said, ignoring her. "I don't want you…doing stuff in my apartment. That means—" he started to count off on his fingers—"no wall-slamming, no Dr. Jones, no…whatever the handcuffs are used for, I'm too afraid to try to imagine what you guys came up with—"

Hook snorted; Ruby looked as though she were trying not to smile, elbowing Hook and muttering, "Shh." Neal's eyes widened.

"Wow," he said, looking between the two of them disgustedly. "Judging you."

"Oh, come on, Neal—

"Judging you!" he repeated loudly. "You don't even know, man. You don't even know."

"Neal, we're all adults here," Hook said calmly. "Let's not pretend that certain things don't go on—"

"Okay, let's just get one thing straight here," Neal said over him. "I don't care what you do with your girlfriend, I just don't want you to do it here. This is my home. My sanctuary. This is a sacred place, do you understand? I don't need—" he grimaced, glancing at the offensive cuffs—"evidence of whatever weird shit you two get into."

Hook frowned. "I pay half the rent; it's my apartment, too."

"But you don't!" Neal said exasperatedly. "You haven't even been here a week! What rent did you pay? As it stands right now, I put down the first month's lease, and out of the goodness of my heart, I'm letting you stay here! All I ask—all I ask—is that you follow the rules! There's not a lot! It isn't complicated! It's very simple!"

"Neal—"

"If you're so desperate to be with Ruby, why are you even here? Why don't you just stay with her?"

"Neal!" Hook said loudly. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Without waiting for a response, he seized Neal's arm and pulled him off to the side, ignoring Neal's indignant sputters.

"Get off—" He tried to tug his arm away, but Hook held on, hissing frantically in his ear.

"I understand you're upset, but you can't say shit like that, okay? We're at a very delicate point of the relationship, you can't start introducing questions about moving in—"

"You left furry handcuffs in my apartment! Who knows what else is hiding in here!" Neal whispered back furiously. "Do you understand, I have a fifteen-year-old kid who comes over here? I don't want him finding any of that shit! His mothers would kill me! Actually kill me!"

"Okay, I'll clean it up—"

"Clean it up?" Neal gasped, staring at him in horror. "You mean, there's more?"

"I—"

"Oh, my God!"

"Neal, would you shut up?" Hook hissed through clenched teeth. "You're killing the mood!"

"Killing the mood? The mood is killed! Murdered! Finished! Beheaded, and sitting on a bloodied shelf in a cardboard box!"

Hook made a face. "That's a bit graphic, don't you think?"

Neal seized him threateningly by the collar to growl in his face. "You get all your kinky shit out of this apartment now. And then I want you to call professional carpet cleaners and a team of cleaning ladies to come here and scrub this whole place down. And then I want a priest to perform a fucking exorcism. Meanwhile, I'm going to go down to Archie's office, and ask how high the risk of me snapping and murdering you in a fit of rage is."

He shoved him back and stalked to the couch to gather up his shoulder bag. "Time for you to go, Ruby," he said, not looking up as he fixed the strap. "You don't need to say goodbye to Hook, I'm not going to kill him just yet. Go."

"Okay," Ruby said meekly. Hook started to follow her.

"I'll walk you out—"

"No, you won't," Neal said, holding him back by the collar of his jacket. "There's the phone, there's the phonebook. Get to work."

Hook glowered at him. "You're ruining my life!" he shouted, and turned on his heel. Neal closed his eyes exasperatedly for a moment. Honestly, Hook was worse than Henry. Three hundred some years old, and he couldn't summon the maturity of a fifteen-year-old.

"Ruby's right, you are a child," he muttered, slinging his shoulder bag around his neck. "A loud, messy, morally repugnant child—"

"Morally repugnant?"

"It means, 'bad'."

"I know what it means!" Hook snapped. "I'm just questioning your use of the term!"

Neal turned around, narrowing his eyes. "Do you see this?" he said, pointing to his face. "This is me judging you."

"I'm familiar with that look, thank you," Hook said darkly.

"This is me wondering what kind of head injury you suffered to make you think that you're not morally repugnant. This is me wondering how someone so delusional and impossibly moronic managed to beat natural selection and survive for three hundred years. This is me asking the universe to strike you down, because I can't stomach the amount of Stupid infecting my apartment right now."

"Then leave!" Hook shot back. "'Cause you're the stupidest one here!"

Neal raised his eyebrows, smiling dryly. "Good one," he said, putting his hands together in mock applause. "Make sure you put a star next to that one in your repertoire: You're the stupidest one here. Oh, very good."

"Shut up, Neal."

"That's another one to write down. Shut up, Neal. You inspire me."

"I hate you!"

"You're a child."

"You're a child!"

"No, no, no, embrace it. See, because you're such a child, I can't punch you in the face like I so desperately want to, because that would be child abuse. So, it's actually saving your ass right now."

Hook scoffed. "Like you could even beat me. I'm a pirate, mate. If there's one thing I know how to do, it's fight."

"You want to give it a shot?"

Hook lifted his chin. "You think I won't?" he said challengingly. "You think I'm afraid of you?"

"I think you're afraid of your own bunny slippers."

"I don't own bunny slippers."

"I know."

"They're weird."

"Yeah."

"Little heads…on your feet. That's fucked up."

"Seriously, though."

Hook stepped deliberately toward him, slitting his eyes in what he probably thought was a very intimidating manner. "So you want to fight me, eh?" he said, stopping in front of Neal. "That's what this has come to: a good, old-fashioned fight to the death."

"That's…exaggerating."

"Fight to the tears."

"Fairly confident I don't have functioning tear ducts."

"I have yet to see you cry. I barely see you feel."

"I don't like P.D.E.'s."

"How's that?"

"Public Display of Emotion."

Hook smiled ruefully. "How very Neal of you. P.D.E.'s. You're a robot."

"Not exactly."

"I'm going to punch you now, robot."

"I'd like to see that."

To Neal's surprise, Hook actually pulled his fist back and aimed it toward Neal; without thinking, he shot his own fist out, catching Hook in the jaw.

"SHIT!" Hook shouted, clamping his hand over his jaw. He looked at Neal in a mixture of pain and disbelief. "I can't believe you actually punched me!"

"It was instinct!" Neal said wildly. "And you were going to punch me first!"

"You told me to!"

"No, I didn't! I didn't think you were actually going to do it!"

"Goddamn it!" Hook rubbed his jaw, shaking his head in self-pity. "I can't believe you did that!"

"It was instinct!" Neal repeated. "I grew up on the streets! Homeless guys try to mug you every day, you just learn to hit first!"

"I'm not a homeless guy!" Hook snapped.

"Well…that's only 'cause I'm letting you live here."

"That's no reason to punch me!"

"You were going to punch me first!"

"So what?"

"So, what did you expect me to do?"

"I expected you to be the better man, and let me!"

Neal stared at him incredulously. "You honestly thought I was just going to let you punch me?"

"I don't need you to let me punch you," Hook said heatedly. "I'm only saying, you should have the decency to let me."

"What are you even saying?"

"I don't know! You punched me! Probably damaged some part of my brain!"

"I hit you in the jaw, it wasn't anywhere near your brain! Maybe you're just a dumbass!"

"Maybe you're a dumbass!"

"Okay, that's it. I'm leaving. I can't take your idiocy anymore." Neal dropped his hands and walked to the door, still shaking his head. "Fucking moron."

"I heard that!"

"You were meant to hear that!" he snapped back. "Moron!"

He slammed the door behind him, cutting off Hook's retort. He shoved his hands in his pockets, still glowering at the floor as the memory of the whole shitty day replayed itself in his head. Everything was so crazy and out of control, even more than usual. His temper had been flaring more and more dangerously—if he had magic, he was certain it would be exploding out of him. Maybe once the holidays were over and all the excitement died down, things would be better.

"Trouble in paradise?"

Neal stopped, looking up to see David smugly leaning against his door, his arms folded across his chest. "I'm sorry?"

"Trouble in paradise?" David repeated. "Seems that apartment's brought you nothing but trouble. Maybe you should give it up, go back to Granny's."

Neal forced himself to not roll his eyes. "Look, David—if you're still upset about me and Emma—"

"I am."

"—then get over it." Neal repositioned the strap around his neck, giving David a sour look. "Could be worse, you know. She could be dating Hook."

David snorted. "Like that was going to happen."

"Well, the way he tells it…"

"What?" David frowned, straightening up. "What does he say?"

"What? Nothing."

"Does that slutty pirate talk about my daughter?" David growled, taking a threatening step toward him.

"No."

"Do you talk about my daughter?"

Neal blinked. "I talk to your daughter."

"And what does that mean?"

"It means, we have conversations?"

"Mmm-hmm, and what else does it mean?"

"Jesus Christ, David, what do you want from me?" Neal asked wildly.

David held up two fingers close to his face; he pointed at his eyes, then Neal's. "Watching you," he hissed, stepping backward through his door. "Always watching…"

Neal stared back at him until the door shut, then slowly turned his gaze forward and continued down the hall.

It was a good thing Regina was going to provide alcohol at her party. Because there was no way he'd survive Christmas Eve with his fucked-up family without it.