Emma knocked on the door, then swung it open without waiting for permission. "Evening, boys!" she called out cheerily as she strode in. "Who wants to see how sexy I look?" She pointed to Hook, who was sitting on the couch, flipping through a magazine. "Bro, come on—I look pretty damn sexy, don't I?"

"Mmm-hmm, very nice," he said absently, not looking up from Vogue.

"You didn't even look."

He laid down his magazine with a sigh. "All right," he said wearily. "Twirl for me."

Emma turned in a circle, letting her red skirt swirl out in a fan. "Nice, huh?"

"Yeah, it's fine."

"Fine?" she scoffed. "Bitch, please—I'm a goddess."

"Fine. You're a goddess. Now, if you'll excuse me—" Hook snapped out his magazine, holding it closer to his face—"Jennifer Lopez has a four-page article in here that I need to read."

Emma snorted. "You can't read."

"Why does everyone assume that?" he frowned.

"Just the vibe you give off. Anyway—" she clapped her hands together, casting her gaze around the room—"where's Neal?"

"Upstairs…" Hook murmured, engrossed in Jennifer Lopez. Emma swirled past him to the stairs, climbing on the tips of her shoes to protect the fragile heels. Sure enough, the bathroom light bled into the narrow hallway, and she caught half of Neal's reflection in the mirror as he wrapped a tie around his neck.

"Hey, Emma," he called, apparently catching sight of her in the background.

"Hey," she said cheerfully as she invited herself in. She drummed her hands on his shoulders, smiling back at him in the mirror. "Ooh, I love it when you wear suits."

"I know," he said, lifting his chin as he knotted the tie.

"Okay, but seriously—you look hot."

Neal smiled faintly. "I know."

"And…" Emma sighed and gestured modestly to herself. "So do I."

"That's a fair assessment."

"In fact—" she turned him around to fix his tie—"I believe we're what you'd call a power couple." She unraveled the knot and started retying it. "Do you know what that means?"

"It kinda makes us sound like superheroes."

"You're not too far off. It means, as a couple, we are the snappiest, sexiest, most badass motherfuckers in town. Basically demigods. And everyone looks on jealously." Emma smiled up at him. "So, yeah—superheroes."

"Cool."

Emma stepped back, putting her hands on her hips as she looked him up and down. "Damn, Cassidy," she said, shaking her head. "You are wearing that suit."

"Hang on, let me get the jacket—"

"Buh-buh-buh—stay." Emma put a firm hand on his shoulder, guiding him away from the door. She tilted her head and gave him a long, considering look. "Do you think, you could do that thing where your tie's all loose around your neck, and your shirt's hanging out with the sleeves all rolled up, like a sexy cubicle worker?"

"Like a sexy cubicle worker?" Neal raised an eyebrow. "You have strange fantasies."

"And then your hair's all ruffled up, like you're frustrated and you keep running your hands through it? Actually, here—" Emma reached up, scrubbing her hands through his curly head. "And then, the tie—"

"Okay—wait—Em—"

"—sleeves up like that—

"We have to go in, like, ten minutes—"

"—lose a button there—meh, what the hell, that one, too—"

"—you're undoing all my work—"

"—and there." Emma beamed, looking at her handiwork: a disheveled, unamused Neal with his hair thoroughly ruffled, his shirt loose, and his tie undone. "I've said it before, and I'll say it again: Damn, Cassidy."

"Thank you," he said, rolling his eyes. "Although, you could have waited until after the party."

"I think you should just go like this," Emma shrugged.

"Looking like a guy who just got fired and spent his night at the bar?"

"Which is super hot."

"Well, who doesn't love financial woes and alcoholism? By the way, Emma—" he leaned forward, whispering in a mock-sultry voice—"the bank says they're going to repossess my house."

Emma laughed just as there was a knock against the door and Hook poked his head in.

"Hey, Neal, I need a—whoa." He raised his eyebrows at Neal's rumpled appearance, and looked between the two of them. "Did I interrupt something?"

"Not exactly," Emma said, the smile fading off her face. "What do you want?"

Hook frowned at her tone. "No need to be rude."

"What do you want?" Neal asked before Emma could reply that there was plenty of need to be rude. "And if it's, 'Do you know where my Revlon pencil is?', the answer is no."

"No, it's Ruby, actually," Hook said, pulling his phone out of his pocket to show them the text. "She wants to know if we can give her a ride because if she moves her car, she's going to lose that space, and she's got to park all the way at the other end of the street—"

"Yeah, fine, we'll give her a ride," Neal said, turning back to the mirror to fix his shirt.

"Brilliant." Hook's smiled turned colder as he slid his eyes to Emma. "Hope that's all right with Milady."

Emma narrowed her eyes witheringly at him. "Don't you have a Beyonce magazine to squeal over?"

"Jennifer Lopez," Hook said, looking scandalized that she would make such an error. He shook his head, still tsking as he left the room. Emma rolled her eyes and exchanged a look with Neal in the mirror.

"Does he hear himself when he talks?" she said. "Idiot…I can feel my brain cells committing suicide when he walks in the room, just so they don't have to process his idiocy."

"That's not even the worst part," Neal said darkly. "Did you know he gets night terrors?"

Emma frowned. "Night terrors, what's that?"

"Wakes up in the middle of the night and starts screaming. And then he falls right back asleep, it's unbelievable." Neal grimaced, shaking his head. "I started taking sleeping pills, so I'd sleep through the whole night, but he still wakes me up."

"Can you two stop fawning over each other and hurry up?" Hook yelled from downstairs. "Ruby's waiting!"

Neal closed his eyes, putting the tips of his fingers to the bridge of his nose. "Emma," he said quietly. "I'm going to kill him."

"Oh, no. Please don't," she said in a flat voice. "Somebody help." She pushed herself up, lazily swiping Neal's hand to pull him after her. "Do you have a bottle of wine? I feel like it's rude if we don't bring something."

"Kind of insensitive to bring a bottle of wine, when Regina can't drink," Neal pointed out as they went down the stairs. "She might think we're gloating."

"You're right. Forget the wine."

Hook glanced up from his magazine as he heard their footsteps behind him. "Ready to go?" he asked, getting up from the couch.

"Yeah, get your coat," Neal said, crossing the room to grab his keys. Hook obediently tugged on a coat while Emma dawdled near the door, waiting for Neal.

"Move," Hook said, nudging Emma out of the way so he could open the door. Emma frowned, and hit him in the shoulder on his way out.

"You're a jerk."

"I know," he called back, extremely unconcerned. "Neal, hurry up!"

"I'm coming," Neal said as he pulled on his coat. He hung a scarf around his neck, twirled the keys around his finger, and nodded at Emma. "Let's go."

Regina bent toward the mirror, carefully applying dark red lipstick to her lips. In the reflection, she could see Robin bustling around the bedroom, looking through the drawers.

"Regina, have you seen my black socks?" he asked, kneeling down to rummage through the lower drawers.

"Top left," she said, now stroking mascara along her lashes.

"Top left…" Robin muttered as he leaned across to pull out the drawer. "I'm not seeing them in here."

"They're in there."

"No, darling, they're not." Robin shut the drawer with an exasperated sigh. "I knew I shouldn't have unpacked all the boxes at once, everything's all mixed up."

Regina capped her mascara and turned her head from side to side, checking to make sure the elegant curls had remained elegant. "They're in there, Robin," she said absently.

"Are you sure? I can't—oh."

"I told you." She turned sideways, studying herself critically in the mirror. She was showing some, but not enough that it was extremely obvious. Regina frowned, putting her hands on her hips as she swiveled in front of the mirror: motherhood was great and everything, but one thing she was definitely not looking forward to were maternity clothes. Soon, she wouldn't be able to fit into those sensible pantsuits and she'd be wearing…elastic.

Oh, God.

"What's wrong?" Robin asked, coming into the bathroom as he knotted his tie. "You've got this look on your face, like you're going to be sick. Wait—" his eyes widened, suddenly panicked—"is it the baby?"

"Baby's fine," Regina sighed as she dropped her hands. "I'm just dreading the rest of this pregnancy-thing. It's a bitch, growing another person, you know that? A real bitch."

"I imagine," Robin said, looking deeply uncomfortable. "I…I feel I should apologize."

"Save it for later," she grimaced. "I've heard bad things about the delivery process. Very bad things." Emma's and Mary Margaret's horrifying descriptions of the pain, blood, and screams echoed in her head, and she shuddered. "Let's talk about something else."

"All right," Robin said, sounding rather relieved. "Let's see…Oh! I know!" He turned with a wide smile and gleaming eyes—a look that clearly indicated some kind of gossip or other. "I'm going set Mulan up with Merida."

Who? Regina gave her head a little shake. "Uh—backstory, please?"

"You know, Merida. The one with the—" Robin waved his hand around his head—"you know, the big, curly hair?"

Regina frowned. "Mmm…nope. Nope, don't know her."

"Oh, come on," Robin said, looking frustrated. "Merida. She joined the Merry Men after Mulan ditched us a few years ago?"

"Uh…"

"Thick accent? Says things like 'lassie' and stuff?"

"No…"

"Looks kinda like one of those Troll dolls, but pretty?"

"I don't…no, I don't know her."

"You've met her," Robin said exasperatedly. "Remember, the day you helped me pack up all my things, when you came to the camp? She had the tent in the corner, she was eating a roasted rat off a stick?"

"Oh, my God, really?" Regina gagged. "Wait—she know how to use forks and shit, right? She's not going to be…I don't know, like, spearing sandwiches or anything, is she?"

"Yes, she knows how to use forks," Robin droned, rolling his eyes. "Honestly, Regina…"

"Sorry, the mental image I got made me wonder."

"Yes, well…" Robin seemed to lose his enthusiasm as he turned back to the mirror. "Anyway, I thought I'd set her up with Mulan, since all that drama with Aurora went down."

Regina raised an eyebrow. "You mean, the whole soap-opera-Phillip's-baby-lesbian-tryst thing?"?

Robin paused in his hair-gelling sequence. "Haven't you heard the new development?" he asked, crinkling his brow. "Aurora's decided to stay with Phillip. She told Mulan it was over because she didn't want to raise the baby without a father."

"Oh…" Regina nodded slowly, struggling to care. Honestly, she couldn't give a flying fuck about Mulan and Aurora. Love triangles were…no, she couldn't care enough to even complete the thought.

"…thought they would be good together ," Robin was saying when she returned to the moment. He turned his head in the mirror, touching a little more gel to his hair. "So I'm going to introduce them, see if I can't get her mind off Aurora—at least during the holidays. I don't want her to be alone."

"Mmm-hmm," Regina said, not really listening.

"Poor thing."

"It's a shame."

"It really is, though."

"Huh." Regina clapped a hand on his shoulder and offered him a brief smile. "Well, good luck with…whatever you were talking about. I'm going to go find Henry."

"Why?" Robin frowned, half-turning as she started out of the room. "What's he done now?"

"Nothing. I just want to make sure he knows the rules."

"What rules?" he persisted, following her through the door. "If this is about Violet…"

Regina clenched her teeth, but didn't answer. She walked purposefully down the hall, her heels stabbing into the floor. Downstairs, she could hear Mary Margaret and David clattering around in the kitchen, stirring pots and moving dishes around, but there were only two sets of footsteps. "Henry!" she called. "Henry, where are you?"

"Watching T.V.!" he yelled back over the noise of the movie. "And I didn't do anything, so don't yell at me."

"Come on," Regina said, grabbing Robin's wrist to pull him after her. "I need back-up."

"For what?"

"He's going to sass me, I can feel it," she hissed. "I need someone close by to scold him and tell him to respect his mother."

"Wait, what are we yelling at him about? What did he do?"

"Nothing—yet. These are preventative measures."

Henry was lounging on the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table. Some horrible Christmas movie was playing, with a conventionally attractive woman giggling in the snow as a conventionally attractive man beamed at her. Regina spared it a disparaging glance before she picked up the remote and muted it.

"I didn't do anything," Henry said instantly when she turned to him. "Don't yell."

"Don't give me a reason to yell, and I won't," she countered. "I want to talk to you about Violet."

"Oh, Christ," Robin and Henry groaned at the same time.

"Now, now, now," she said defensively, holding up her hands. "I've given it some thought, and Emma and I talked it over…"

Henry chanced a glance up at her, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah…?"

Regina inhaled deeply, looking down at him. She hadn't actually spoken to Emma about anything; nor had she really given it any thought. What she'd been planning to say was, "Stay away from that teenage whore because you don't know where she's been, and you've got the genes for Teen Daddy Syndrome, and I don't think I can deal with that."

But Henry was looking at her with…that look: the wary one, the one that waited for her to preemptively blame him for something he didn't do; the one he wore as he nodded obediently, though he was secretly thinking, I hate you. It had been the look he'd given her for most of his childhood. She hated that look.

"I've decided, I'm not going to interfere with you two, but keep it G-rated at the party."

Henry blinked. "I-I'm sorry, what?"

"You're fifteen. You're going to rebel against me, sooner or later, and I'd rather it be over something like, not cleaning your room or eating junk food. And you're a good kid, more or less, so…" Regina grimaced, folding her hands. "I''m going to trust you."

"You are?"

"Don't make me regret it," she warned him.

Henry stared at her in disbelief, then nodded slowly. "Okay."

They looked at each other for a long time without saying anything, as though they were waiting for the other to pull a "GOTCHA!" But neither of them did; neither of them said a single goddamn word, because it was all levels of awkward. Robin cleared his throat a few times, prepared to say something—then lapsed back into silence. David and Mary Margaret still clattered in the kitchen, passing indistinguishable instructions back and forth. After several painful minutes, the doorbell rang.

"Oh, thank God," Regina exhaled, turning away to answer the door. She'd never felt so relieved to invite random strangers into her home.

She swung open the door, revealing a grinning Tink leaning against the doorframe. "Hey, bitches!" she called. "Merry fucking Christmas!"

Regina smiled blandly. "Merry fucking Christmas, Tink. Kick the snow off your shoes, then come in and add to the awkward. Make everyone more uncomfortable than they've ever felt in their life."

Tink smiled widely. "Don't mind if I do."

"All right," Hook said as Neal stalled the car on the street across from the library. "I'll run in and get Ruby. You two wait here…try to behave yourselves."

"Get out of my car," Neal said loudly.

Hook snickered and climbed out. A rush of icy air flooded the car before he slammed the door shut behind him. They watched him hurry over to the library door and fiddle with the lock, before he swung the door open and darted inside. On the second floor, they could see the apartment window filled with light and a tall, thin shadow moving across the room.

"Ten bucks says, they don't come down for at least ten minutes," Emma said as another shadow entered.

"Because they're doing it, or because they're comparing their eye make-up?" Neal said, pulling back his sleeve to check his watch. "Shit…We're late. "

"Meh," Emma shrugged. "Regina will just blame it on Hook, so we don't have to worry."

"That's true." Neal looked up from his watch with a bored sigh and started drumming his fingers impatiently against the steering wheel. Emma watched him for a minute, tilting her head to the side.

Damn, she thought, looking him up and down. "I know I already said this, but you are wearing the hell out of that suit." She rested her chin in her hand, smiling and shaking her head. "Mmm-mmm-mmm."

Neal raised his eyebrows. "Thanks," he said, an uncertain smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "You look good, too."

"I know, but…" Emma flopped her hand at him, giving a helpless sigh. "You know?"

Neal nodded slowly. "You said that."

"Do you think…" She scratched her face, trying to sound as casual as possible. "Do you think you could do that sexy-cubicle-worker thing again?"

"I'm sorry?"

"With the —" she waved vaguely at her beck—"with the loose tie? And the hair all…" She blew out a slow breath. "You know, all… ruffly."

"Uh…" Neal blinked, as if he wasn't quite sure what to make of her. "You mean…now?"

Emma frowned. "You don't sound very enthusiastic."

"Well, I don't want to walk into the party looking all sexed up with your dad in there," Neal said exasperatedly. "He did this to me—" he pointed two threatening fingers at his eyes, then at hers. "And then he was like, 'Watching you…' . It was a little scary."

"He threatened you?"

"Not in so many words, but yeah, pretty much."

"Unbelievable," she scoffed. "I'm going to kill him."

"That's an overreaction."

"Is it?"

"Little bit." Neal glanced at the window at the sound of distant laughter, and squinted at the two shadowy figures in dim streetlight. "Sluts incoming," he muttered.

Emma made a face as Hook and Ruby walked toward the car, swinging their hands together and laughing against each other. "God," she said, gagging exaggeratedly. "If they were any cuter, little woodland creatures would be following them around."

"That's significantly less cute," Neal said, nodding his head as they stopped (in the middle of the road, thanks) and started making out like it was the End of Days and they'd never see each other again. "Good God…"

"Roll down the window."

"How's that?"

"I said, roll down the window."

Neal obeyed, pressing the button on his car door to open the driver's window; Emma unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned across him to yell out. "Hey, if you two could extract your tongues from each other's throats long enough to get in the car, that would be great!"

"Oh, shut up, Emma!" Hook shouted back. "I have to watch you fangirl over Neal every time you walk in the bloody room!"

"That's because it's supposed to be my bloody room!" Emma hollered. "Maybe you should just find your own place , you homeless bastard!"

Neal winced as Emma's voice blared in his ear. "Guys…" he sighed. "Can we do this later?"

"You can't still be mad about that!" Hook snapped. "Get over it!"

"Says the man who was on a revenge quest that lasted two fucking centuries!"

"Guys—"

"That's not a grudge, that's dedication!"

"That's not an argument, that's bullshit!"

"Guys!" Neal said loudly. "Just shut up, and get in the goddamn car! And you—" he put his hands on Emma's shoulders, pushing her back into her seat—"sit."

Emma raised a roguish eyebrow. "You're very authoritative," she said huskily. "I like that."

Neal frowned. "What?"

"Seriously, you have to do the sexy cubicle worker thing again. Actually, hang on, I got it—"

"Emma!" Neal pushed her hands away as she reached for his shirt. "The hell are you doing?"

"Hair, ruffle the hair—"

"Don't—"

"Buttons, let me just—"

"Jesus Christ, would you stop that?" Neal said, catching her hands. Emma raised her eyebrows innocently.

"Stop what?"

"You know what."

She shrugged, twirling a strand of her hair. Neal watched her for a second, then narrowed his eyes.

"I know what you're trying to do," he told her.

"Really? 'Cause it seems like it's going right over your head." Emma smiled, biting down on her bottom lip—a move that she knew drove guys crazy, though she wasn't entirely sure why.

Neal stared at her in wonder. "Okay, what is going on with you today?" he asked.

"I just think you look mighty fine in that suit," she said simply, dancing her fingers up his arm. "Why are you being so uptight?"

"Because I'm cold; I'm cramped; I don't want to go to this party; and Hook and Ruby are staring at us through your window right now."

Emma crinkled her brow. "What?"

"Look, they're right—"

"Aagh!" she yelped, seeing Hook's and Ruby's faces pressed against the glass.

"I told you."

"Goddamn it," she said, breathing hard; she put a hand to her heart, closing her eyes as she tried to catch her breath. She heard the lock click as the door opened, and then Hook's tsking.

"Jesus, Emma, 'no' means 'no'," he said, settling into the seat behind Neal. "You practically violated him."

Emma turned around incredulously. "Bitch, are you serious right now?"

"Bitch, I'm dead serious."

"Don't call each other 'bitch'," Neal said wearily as he started the car. "You guys are so immature."

"You're right, we are." Hook cleared his throat. "Remind me what your high score on Zombiepocalypse is again?"

Neal's jaw tensed. "Higher than yours," he muttered.

"Oh, yeah?" Hook leaned forward, growling into his ear. "That sounds like a challenge, old friend."

"I will destroy you," Neal said steadily.

Hook let out a quiet, meaning laugh. "I'd like to see you try," he hissed; then abruptly, sat back in his seat. "We duel at midnight."

Emma raised an eyebrow, looking between the two of them. "That got intense, fast."

"It was my fault," Hook said solemnly. "Zombiepocalypse is a sacred pastime. I should never have tried to use to win some mundane argument."

"Wait," Ruby said as Emma shrugged in agreement. "Is…is that a joke? Or are you serious?"

Hook exchanged a wide-eyed look with Neal in the mirror. "Ruby, I have never been more serious about anything in my life," he said, scandalized.

"Over a video game."

"It's not just a game," Emma said, twisting in her seat. "You don't understand, Ruby. This thing has been in our lives since it was released two years ago. It's a big fucking deal."

Ruby blinked at her. "Wait, are you serious?"

"You don't want to get into this, Ruby," Neal advised, glancing at her in the mirror. "Once you get into Zombiepocalypse, there's no escaping."

"If our lives ever end up like The Walking Dead, it'll be so worth it," Emma said reverently. "We'll annihilate every zombie-bitch in our path. And if anyone tries to steal our camp or starts firing on us, we already have a battle plan in place."

"Level Seventy-Two," Hook said, fist-bumping her.

"What's Level Seventy-Two?"

"It's a multiplayer level, where you have to defend your camp from assholes," Neal explained. "We worked out a strategy to beat the level, and then they decided that 'Press X! Press X!' was a viable strategy for a real-life zombie attack."

"'Least I have a plan," Hook scoffed. "What's yours, fall asleep until it's over?"

"Actually, yeah."

"How very Neal of you."

"What about me?" Ruby said, tugging at Hook's sleeve. "If the zombie wars or whatever start up, would you protect me?"

"No," Hook said simply. "You're a werewolf. You have to protect me." He nudged her. "You will, won't you?"

Emma rolled her eyes as Ruby let out a giggle. "Of course I will!" she simpered, cozying up to him.

"You sure you're up for it? I tend to get myself into dangerous situations."

"That's because you're an idiot," Emma said before Ruby could answer. Hook let out a tense breath.

"I wasn't talking to you, Emma."

"Yeah, but I can still hear you."

"Yeah, but I wasn't talking you."

"Yeah, but I can still hear you."

"Yeah, but I wasn't talk—"

"For the love of God, would you shut up?" Neal exclaimed. "I'm serious, the next person who talks can walk the rest of the way!"

No one really wanted to test Neal, because it was really fucking cold. The rest of the drive was silent.

Yeah, I was kind of Neal fan-girling, but...I mean, come on. Neal.