The party seemed to be in full swing by the time Belle and Rumple pulled up. Cars were strewn all the way down the street, light flooded from the window and exposed several moving shadows, and Christmas music poured from the house.

"Looks busy," Rumple remarked. "Crowded."

"Well, having half the town crammed into one house will have that effect," Belle grimaced. "Come on."

They walked up to the house hand-in-hand, going a little slower to accommodate Belle's heels on the ice. Regina had stationed herself by the doors so she could greet guests with a deadpan, "Shoes," before they came in. Rumple seemed a little disgruntled that she didn't even offer a "Hello" or "Merry Christmas", but Belle pulled him away before he had time to complain. It was Christmas Eve—hardly the time for one of Rumple's bitch-fests.

"All right," she said, pulling off her coat and tossing it to Henry so he could stash it away in the guest room. "You want to get something to eat, Rumple? I heard David catered."

"He did," Henry said as he added Rumple's coat to the pile in his arms. "He's been here all day, bitching about his fresh ginger."

"Don't say 'bitch', Henry," Rumple said absently. "Do I smell lasagna?"

"Yeah, it's in the kitchen," Henry said, nodding toward the door. "Mom made it."

Rumple looked at him warily. "Which 'Mom'?"

"Regina."

"Okay, good," Rumple said in relief. "I'm going to go get a piece, then. Belle, do you want any?"

"Yeah, get me a corner piece."

Rumple nodded, and started pushing his way through the crowd, whacking a few people in the shins with his cane. Belle shifted her eyes aways, so as to avoid the indignant looks shot in her direction, and turned to Henry.

"So," she said, awkwardly swinging her hands together. "How's it been going? I know we got here kinda late—sorry about that."

"Please, I envy you," Henry said, rolling his eyes. "Regina's been making me stand here and take coats. At least 'til Violet shows up…which she hasn't because—" he sighed, holding up his phone—"her parents are still in the middle of their weekly threatening-to-divorce, explosive argument, so who knows when she'll get here?"

"That sucks," Belle said sympathetically.

"Yeah, it does," Henry agreed, shoving his phone back in his pocket. "All right, I gotta go put these away."

"See you," Belle said with a little wave as he started weaving through the crowd. She let out a little sigh, and raised herself on her tiptoes to see if Rumple was on his way back yet. It was impossible to tell, from this vantage point, though: all she could really see were shoulders and torsos. Belle huffed frustratedly, not for the first time resenting her mother for having been so petite: for God's sale, Leroy was taller than her.

I'll just go myself, she thought irritably, sending up a silent prayer that she wouldn't get trampled on her way to the kitchen. It was a risk she and Rumple ran during every party: they were easily Storybook's tiniest couple, so people didn't always see them. More than once, some oaf had tripped over her and sent them both tumbling to the ground.

The door had only already been propped halfway open, so all she had to do was slip inside the steam-filled kitchen, where a symphony of smells came together to create a beautiful Christmas atmosphere: turkey, stuffing, the homey scents of apple pie; there were fancier things, like quiche and the weird French pudding David had a fondness for making; and less-fancy things, like biscuits and cranberry sauce. And of course, lasagna.

Rumple was sitting at the counter, moving his hands energetically as he spoke to David, who was busy whisking something. Snow was hovering behind David as she watched the stove, turning her head every so often to stay in the conversation.

"…now he's moving in with her?" Rumple was saying as Belle walked over. "It seems a little fast, doesn't it?"

"What does?" Belle asked, leaning her elbows on the counter.

"Emma and Neal," Snow scoffed. "Which is ridiculous because, for the last time, Rumple, sixteen years is not fast."

"It hasn't been sixteen years!" Rumple said exasperatedly. "They've only been going out for a month, that's not nearly enough time!"

"Rumple," Belle groaned. "Aren't you tired of bitching about this?"

"No! I'm not, actually!" Rumple jutted his chin at David. "David understands, don't you, David?"

"No, no," Belle and Snow said at once, shaking their heads. David frowned.

"Excuse me," he said defensively, "but I believe Rumple was talking to me."

"No, I refuse to allow you two to encourage each other," Snow said firmly; then added for Belle's benefit, "David's going to get all 'no one touches my baby girl' and Rumple's going to get all 'leave my boy alone', and—"

"And Snow's going to get all, 'Squee! I was right, I was right! I told her to pick Neal all along!'" Rumple mimicked.

"Well, I was," Snow said smugly. "God, can you imagine if Hook and—?"

"No," David said immediately. "Don't even talk about it, Snow. I can't."

"Just imagine how Granny feels," Rumple said grimly. "You two really dodged a bullet."

Belle snorted, pulling the mint-filled candy dish toward her. "I wouldn't say dodged. That implies it was a remote possibility." She picked up a mint, examining it as the wrapper crinkled between her fingers. "Emma and Hook were never going to happen."

"I remember, he made a lot of declarations of undying love for 'never going to happen'," David remarked.

"Hook will say he loves you if you pass him the salt at dinner," Belle scoffed. "He misinterprets emotions a lot. I think he was damaged in childhood. Or maybe, he's just not very bright."

"Or both," Rumple shrugged.

"Or both," they all agreed, mirroring his shrug.

"You know what we should do?" Rumple said, pointing a thoughtful finger. "Take him out to the woods, then get a shovel—"

"Hey, David, got anything to drink in here?"

Everyone's heads whipped around as Hook walked in. He raised an eyebrow, looking around at their stares.

"What?"

"Nothing," David said, shaking his head. "Sorry, what did you want?"

"Drinks," Hook said, walking over to stand next to Belle at the counter. "Ruby's worried she's going to bump into her gran, she needs a little something to take the edge off."

"And you?" Belle asked as David looked around for something alcoholic. "What's your excuse?"

Hook shrugged. "No excuse. I just like the buzzy feeling."

"You're an alcoholic," Rumple frowned at him.

"No, I'm not. I mean, I am, but I'm not being an alcoholic right now." Hook superfluously straightened his tie. "I'm being a social drinker."

Rumple looked at him for a long time; then pointed at him, a wry smile slowly spreading on his face. "You're funny," he said.

Hook raised his eyebrows and was opening his mouth to say something when the door burst open and everyone's heads swiveled around for the second time.

"Hey," Ruby called out.

There was a general murmuring of "Hey, Ruby" from the four of them, while Hook looked at her impatiently.

"What are you doing here?" he asked as she settled herself at the counter next to him. "I told you, I'd bring it over."

"I know, but I felt too awkward waiting out there with Emma and Neal," Ruby sighed. "She keeps fangirling over him because he looks crazy hot in his suit…" She trailed off as Hook made a disgruntled noise, and narrowed her eyes. "What?"

"Nothing…"

"Don't get scowly, just because I said Neal is crazy hot," Ruby frowned.

"I'm not."

"Because seriously—" Ruby leaned over the counter to look past Hook at Belle. "I don't usually notice, because he's normally all hoodied-up and drinking coffee, but Neal is, like, insanely sexy in a suit. I almost forgive Tink."

"Hmm," Belle smiled uncomfortably.

"Really, though. I bumped into a few of the girls from the diner, and they were all talking about it. He is slaying in that suit."

"That's…that's nice." Belle shifted her eyes to exchange a look with Rumple, but was surprised to see him nodding thoughtfully.

"I told him," he said, shaking a finger. "A classy suit and a good tailor can make all the difference."

"I know, right?" Ruby said in a hushed tone. "I mean…I'm almost jealous of Emma right now."

Hook gave her an injured look. "Right in front of me? Really?"

"You hit on Regina in front of me all the time," she frowned. "I always forgive you."

"That's because I always make it up to you…"

"Oh, God," everyone else groaned, amidst mumblings of "not near the food, you slut". David actually put his hand over his whisking bowl, as if to protect it from Hook and Ruby, neither of whom seemed to notice the group's general disgust. Ruby smiled, despite herself, and stood on her tiptoes to whisper something in his ear. Hook's eyebrows shot up and and he let out a surprised laugh.

"Oh, really?" he said. "Well, in that case…"

Belle made a face as Ruby took his hand and tugged him out the door, giggling. "I think I just threw up in my brain," she said sourly, turning back to the group.

"Seriously, though," Rumple grimaced. "Nobody tell Regina, she'll set off an explosion that'll make Hiroshima look like a firecracker."

"I wish I could surgically remove the piece of my brain that contains that memory—and destroy it," David said.

"Sluts," was Snow's contribution.

Belle pushed herself away from the counter and wandered over to Rumple, who was now watching David spoon homemade whipped cream onto cherry tarts. She wrapped her arms around him from behind, resting her chin on his shoulder.

"Your hair is very soft," she murmured.

"Yes, it is."

"Like, puppy-soft." Belle unwrapped one arm to comb her fingers through his hair. "Fluffy."

"It's my new conditioner. It moisturizes."

"It smells good, too. What is it?"

"Shea and butter."

"Hmm." Belle straightened up, and pressed a kiss to the side of is head. "I'm gonna go say 'hi' to some people, okay?"

"What about lasagna?" Rumple asked, leaning his head back to look up at her. "I thought you wanted your corner piece."

"I'll take it with me," she shrugged. "David, can I take a plate?"

David nodded his permission, and twisted around to get her a plate. "Don't fill up on this, okay?" he said as he handed it to her. "I want you to save room for my stuff, too."

"Yeah, yeah, I won't fill up. Hand me a fork?" Belle smiled as he held one out to her, and plucked it from his fingers. "Thank you."

As she walked out of the kitchen, she held the plate up to her nose, inhaling appreciatively. Mmm, she thought, smiling in satisfaction as she forked a little piece of the rustic, spicy lasagna. Regina may have been a raging bitch, but damn, could she cook.

"Merry Christmas, bitch!" a joyful voice called out, and an arm clapped around her shoulder.

"Hey, Tink," Belle said, chewing past her lasagna. "What's up?"

"Nothing much, nothing much. Hey, are you eating this?" Tink said suddenly, pointing to her plate.

"Actually—"

"Awesome."

Belle sighed as Tink snatched the plate and fork from her hands and started eating her lasagna. "Can't you just get your own?"

"I only want a little," Tink shrugged. "I don't want to eat too much. It interferes with getting drunk."

"How drunk are you right now?" Belle asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Not drunk enough." Tink passed the plate off to the nearest guy (Archie), exchanging it for his drink. He looked up in surprise, opening his mouth to protest—but when he caught sight of who it was, just gave a defeated little sigh and walked away.

"You are so obnoxious," Belle said, shaking her head. "I'm embarrassed to be seen with you, sometimes."

"I think you mean, it's difficult to live in my shadow," Tink said without a trace of irony. "And I honestly don't blame you, because…"

Belle looked over as Tink stopped in her tracks. "What?" What is it?" she frowned, noticing Tink's suddenly wide eyes.

"Neal," she breathed.

Belle's heart sank. Oh, no.

"Neal…Suit…" Tink's voice quivered and she started fanning herself. "Oh…me gusta. Me gusta very much."

"Well, don't gusta," Belle said irritably. "I don't need to hear this."

Tink threw back her head and gulped down the rest of her drink; then, with a loud exhale, she passed the empty glass to Belle and wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. Belle looked at her worriedly, watching her adjust her dress.

"What are you doing?"

"What do you think I'm doing?" Tink snapped the straps of her dress decisively, letting out a deep breath. "I'm gonna go talk to that sexy bastard."

"Tink—"

But she'd already strode off in the unsuspecting Neal's direction. Belle made an exasperated noise and shoved the glass into a pair of hands so she could clatter after Tink. Emma was nowhere in sight, which meant he was vulnerable. Undefended. Prey.

The poor man.

"Mmm—mmm—mmm!" Tink said as she stopped in front of Neal. "It's amazing, how much seeing you in that suit makes me wanna rip it right off ya."

"Oh, wow," Neal said, raising his eyebrows. "That's—that's deeply disturbing, coming from you."

"Neal—" Belle bent down, bracing her hands on her knees as she caught her breath. "I am so…sorry…She ran…off…Couldn't…stop her."

"Yeah…" Neal eyed Tink with disgust. "All right, well, I'm gonna go, so… Good luck with all—" he waved his hand vaguely at her—"that."

"What's your rush, Gorgeous?" Tink grinned. "Can't handle the undeniable heat between us?"

"Tink," Belle warned.

"What? Look at this guy, he's such a tease," Tink said, looking him up and down with relish. "He's all…ruffly."

"Ruffly?" Belle frowned at Neal, only just realizing…yeah, he was "ruffly": his suit was out of sorts, his hair sticking up weird. "What happened, you get mugged?"

"What? Oh." Neal rolled his eyes, brushing a hand over his hair to try to fix it. "Emma's keeps messing me up because she thinks it looks sexy."

"She's right," Tink said slyly. "I mean, you were always hot, but right now, you're sizzling."

Neal raised his eyebrows. "You're creepy," he told her. "So—I'm going to go stand over there."

"You can walk away, but that's not going to make me stop thinking about you!" Tink called after him as he shunted through the crowd. "That sexy motherfucker," she said under her breath, shaking her head. "What is he doing to me, coming in here, looking like that?"

"Can we talk about something else?" Belle asked through gritted teeth.

"Yeah, sure…" Tink said, already walking away from her. Belle widened her eyes,

"Tink!" she said wildly. "What are you doing?"

Tink turned around, giving her an incredulous look. "You know, I don't know why everyone thinks you're so smart, if you can't figure this out," she said. "Let me break this down for you: 'sexy Neal' plus 'sexy suit' equals 'What do you think I'm doing'?"

With that, she flounced away, sweeping her arms to push people out of the way. Belle stared after her helplessly, mentally wrestling with the dilemma of going after her or giving up. There was no stopping Tink, either way. But Neal was technically her stepson—didn't that mean she had a moral obligation to help him, to look out for him? But then again…Neal was a resourceful guy, he could take care of himself. And Belle really didn't want to be witness to Tink's sexual harassment anymore. Besides, she had other people to wish a Merry Christmas to, she couldn't spend all her time baby-sitting Tink.

"Sorry, Neal," she muttered, going off in search of Archie so she could take back her lasagna. "You're on your own."

Emma put her hands on her hips, narrowing her gaze around the room to look for Neal. She'd told him not to move, but of course, he did. "I'm only going to be a minute," she'd promised— which, apparently, he'd interpreted as "I'm going to be a while—roam free!"

Found you, she thought triumphantly as her eyes landed on him. He was standing in the corner by the Christmas tree, talking to Robin as he tried to smooth out his rumpled tie. Emma twitched a smile, rather enjoying the sight of a mildly embarrassed Neal. With a determined exhale, she fluffed out her hair and strutted toward him, a wry smile curling on her face. She didn't know if it was the suit, or the holiday giddiness, or what, but god-fucking-damn it, he looked fine tonight.

"Emma, hey," a woman's voice said, just as a hand touched her shoulder. Emma stopped mid-strut, and turned to see Lily, decked out in a slim black dress, smiling at her.

"Oh…h-hey, Lily," Emma said, internally groaning. Son of a bitch. "How's, uh…how's life?"

"Life's all right," Lily shrugged. "How about you? You look great, by the way."

"Mmm-hmm," Emma said distractedly, trying to see past her to look at Neal. Still talking to Robin, good…still looking deliciously disheveled, very good…a small blonde head, bobbing toward him in the crowd, not so good. She frowned. What the hell did that slutty little fairy think she was doing?

"…want a drink?" Lily was saying. Emma blinked, giving her head a little shake to clear it.

"Sorry, what?" she said. "I got distracted."

"I said, do you want to get a drink—"

"Not really, no. Excuse me." Emma brushed past her, stalking toward Neal and Robin just as Tink was sidling up to them. They were both looking at her in faint disgust, and Robin had stepped almost protectively in front of Neal during the exchange. As she got closer, Emma could hear why.

"…literally have no morals, I'm game for pretty much anything you're into."

"Really," Neal grimaced.

"Really, really."

"That's disgusting," Robin told her.

"I prefer to think of it as, 'accommodating—-"

"Tink!" Emma said in a falsely cheery tone, making her jump. "How are you?"

Tink blinked rapidly, looking at her with wide eyes. "Uh—h-hey, Emma, how are you?" she said nervously.

"Fine, fine…" Emma trailed her eyes up to Neal's, which were full of gratitude. "I was just coming over here to talk to this guy—s'cuse me, Tink—"

Tink glowered at her as she moved past her to stand by Neal and put a very deliberate hand on his shoulder. Robin looked quickly between the two of them, at Emma's poisonous smile and Tink's glare, and cleared his throat.

"Tink, I don't think you've had the pleasure of meeting my friend, Will. How about I introduce you?"

"Hook already offered, I'm not interested," Tink said, not taking her eyes off Emma.

"Get interested," Emma said, narrowing her eyes. "Robin, why don't you go find Will? I'm sure he and Tink will hit it off."

"I've met Will, he's nothing special," Tink said dismissively.

"Did you talk to Will?"

"Talk?"

"Yeah, did you talk? Or did you just push him against the wall and violate him?"

"There was consent," Tink muttered, shifting her eyes.

"I feel so uncomfortable right now," Neal told the ceiling.

"As do I," Robin said, looking rather green. "Come on, Tink—we'll have a chat with Will."

"But—sexy—" Tink reached longingly toward Neal, who immediately shrank behind Emma, before Robin pulled her away.

"He's such a matchmaker today," Neal said, stepping out once Tink had disappeared into the crowd. "First it was Mulan and Merida, now Tink and Will…God, he's worse than your mom."

"Why would he set Will up with Tink?" Emma frowned. "I thought they were friends."

"I don't know," Neal sighed. "But I'm not going to fight him on this. So long as it keep Tink away from me, I'm good."

"She's been bothering you?"

"Of course she has," Neal said, rolling his eyes. "Keeps coming up to me, telling me how sexy I am…It's actually a really uncomfortable experience."

"Well, I must say that's a popular opinion today. That you look sexy, I mean," she clarified. "I overheard quite a few conversations…Lot of girls appreciating the suit tonight."

Neal looked surprised. "Really?"

"Mmm-hmm," Emma smiled, nodding.

"That's…interesting." He furrowed his brow, scratching the back of his head. "I don't really know how to respond to that."

"You know, I'd be jealous, except I can't really blame them." Emma drew her gaze up and down, giving a contented little sigh. "I know I already said this, but: God. Damn."

Neal raised his eyebrows. "You did say that," he said. "A lot."

"Yeah…" She eyed his somewhat smoothed-out appearance. "Hey, you know what would be fun right now?"

He glanced at her warily. "What?"

"'Sexy cubicle worker'."

"Here? Isn't that better saved for—" Neal leaned forward, lowering his voice—"you know, a more private venue?"

"Aww…" she grinned, twirling her finger around the end of his tie. "Neal, are you shy?"

"Actually, it's more because Henry is floating around here somewhere, and I don't want to traumatize him," Neal muttered, shifting his eyes around the room.

"Then maybe we should get out of here, if you know what I mean," Emma said in a low voice.

Neal lifted his eyebrows. "Yeah, I know what you mean," he said carefully. "But maybe this isn't the time—"

"Oh, it's very much the time," Emma said, and started unraveling the tie-knot. "Because right now, I—" she ripped a few buttons right off the shirt—"need you to be 'Cassidy from Accounting', who's frustrated because his boss is really demanding and really sexy, and—"

"Wait, I'm confused. A-are you—? Would you be the boss in this scenario, or—?" Neal moved his head as she reached to mess up his hair. "Em, come on, stop."

"Oh…" Emma smiled slyly. "You are shy." She stood on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear, "That's hot."

Neal pulled back, raising a quizzical eyebrow. "Not that I'm complaining, but are you feeling okay?" he asked.

"I'm feeling more than okay," Emma winked. "Now, take off that jacket."

"Em—"

"Do it slow," she advised, arching her eyebrow. "Take it off very slowly. And then roll up your sleeves and look frustrated."

Neal stared at her for a minute. "Do you realize we're in a crowded room full of people right now? Family members, I might add?"

Emma opened her mouth to tell him that was exactly why they should be getting out of here right now, but she was interrupted by a door opening to their left: Ruby stumbled out, looking suspiciously rumpled. She glanced at them; paused to give Neal a considering look; then with an appreciative, "Hmph,", walked away.

Emma frowned, swiveling her head to follow Ruby with narrowed eyes. "Is it me, or was she totally checking you out?"

"Is it me, or did she totally look like she just—?"

The door opened again, and this time, an extremely-disheveled Hook slipped out, glancing from side to side. His gaze fell on Neal's loose tie and ruffled hair, and he looked at him with wide eyes.

"Neal," he said softly. "You slut."

"Are you—?" Neal widened his eyes incredulously. "Are you serious right now?"

"Look at your hair!" Hook laughed, pointing at it. "You little skanks, getting all sexy at the Christmas party! I'm so proud of you!"

"There was no 'getting sexy'," Emma grumbled, folding her arms. "I was just starting to get things off the ground, and then you had to show up and spook him. "

"There wasn't going to be any 'getting sexy'!" Neal said exasperatedly. "Christ, am I the only one who realizes there are children and family members at this party?"

"No, you're just the only one who cares," Hook shrugged. "Anyways, either of you know where Ruby went? I, uh—" a grin split his face—"I need to tell her something."

"Whatever it is, would you also mind telling her to keep her eyes in her head around Neal?" Emma said, stepping possessively in front of him. "Because when she walked out of that door, she definitely lingered and hmphed."

"She lingered and hmphed?" Hook frowned. "Are you sure?"

"Neal, didn't she linger and hmph?"

"Maybe a little," Neal said, casting his eyes down.

Hook exhaled exasperatedly. "Seriously?" he said. "I mean…what about me? She's got me, why is she lingering and hmphing at Neal?"

"She probably says the same thing when you hit on Regina," Neal said reasonably.

"Yeah, but…" Hook flopped his hand toward the front door, where Regina was still surveying her living room with beady eyes, alert for any sign of spilling. "You know?"

"Don't say anything else," Emma warned, seeing Neal's tense expression. "You've already made things uncomfortable, you don't have to start making them offensive, too."

"Actually, maybe it's a better idea if you just leave," Neal said stonily. "Might want to keep an eye on Ruby. You know how she gets at parties. 'Specially when she's drinking."

Hook blinked. "What?"

"Drinking," Neal repeated loudly, enunciating. "You know, alcohol? That stuff that lowers your inhibitions?"

"Inhibitions…?" Hook frowned, shaking his head slightly.

"Inhibitions. The things that keep you on your best behavior; that let you use good judgment; that keep you from doing stupid shit. Things you don't have?"

"Oh…" Hook started to nod; then stopped, and shook his head. "Sorry, what?"

"Ruby plus drink equals indiscriminate sluttiness," Emma translated.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Oh." Hook scratched the side of his head and cleared his throat. "Well, I'm not worried," he said, though there was an undercurrent of very much worried in his voice. "We're solid. We have a completely solid relationship. Ish."

"I don't know," Neal said, discreetly elbowing Emma. Follow my lead.

"Neal's right," Emma said, more than happy to oblige: the sooner Hook disappeared, the sooner she had Neal to herself. "I mean, she lingered and hmphed at Neal not even a minute after you two finished doing disturbing things in Regina's linen closet—"

"Do you mean the same disturbing things you were planning on doing to Neal?" Hook demanded.

"—which is different because you two are inherently creepy," Emma said, raising her voice over his. "But that's beside the point."

"And what is your point?"

"My point is, if she's window-shopping thirty seconds after you do her, there's a problem," she said flatly.

"Lingering and hmphing doesn't constitute 'window-shopping'—"

"It is the essence of window-shopping!" Emma said with a derisive laugh. "And I'll you something, bro—if your girlfriend is batting her lashes at my boyfriend ten seconds after you, you should be keeping a very close eye on her."

"Yeah, if she's brave enough to piss off Emma…" Neal shrugged, letting the sentence dangle in the air. Hook looked between them, his eyes widening.

"Seriously?" he said in a hushed tone. "You—you really think I should be worried?"

"I think you should go and make sure," Emma said, nodding profusely.

"Definitely," Neal assured him.

"In fact, I saw Graham wandering around earlier, and let me tell you…he was looking pretty sexy."

It was the final nail in the coffin. She knew exactly how Hook felt about Graham, particularly in regards to Ruby, and was hardly surprised when he looked up darkly and started clenching his hand into a fist.

"Is that so?" he growled.

"Oh, it's so," Emma said firmly. "It's very 'so'. It's so 'so', that if I were you, I'd be sending up a few prayers to your pirate gods right now."

"I don't have pirate gods!" were Hook's parting words before he turned on his heel and stalked away. Emma watched him go, smiling in satisfaction as he disappeared into the crowd.

"So," she said, turning back to Neal and trailing her hands down the front of his jacket. "Where were we?"

Neal caught her hands. "We were going to go get some black coffee," he said.

"Black coffee?" she frowned. "I'm not drunk, I don't need black coffee."

"I need black coffee," he clarified. "All of a sudden, I'm just really in a coffee mood."

"It's really early to be drinking coffee."

"It's never too early to drink coffee," Neal declared. "Coffee is the single most beautiful thing in the world. It's rich, it's bold, it's full of caffeine, and I feel like it would really cleanse my soul after Hook and Ruby."

Emma raised an eyebrow. "Cleanse your soul?"

"Cleanse my soul," Neal nodded.

Emma exhaled exasperatedly. "All right, fine. Let's go drink coffee."

There's a lot more to the Christmas party, because I'm having way too much fun writing this. But the site only lets me upload files that are so big, so this is going to come in chunks.