A/N: Thanks for your reviews! I am having a lot of fun writing this story, and I can assure you there are plenty of Swanthief feels on the way... I believe that even before Emma and Neal became a couple, they were really close to each other, and seeing the walls around their hearts crumble down is a very interesting journey, in my opinion. I hope you enjoy it as well!
Chapter Two: Extra Mayo
When Emma Swan woke up the next morning, there was no one by her side.
"Neal?"
She sat up, waiting for a response, but after calling out for him a second time, she simply let out a sigh. Whatever it was he was planning to do, it apparently included not spending much time near her: the night before, he had spent hours sitting by the desk, scribbling things he would not let her see, and had only joined her in bed after she had fallen asleep, something she only noticed when, in the middle of the night, she was the accidental target of one of his hypnic jerks.
Although they had hardly ever slept in a bed together during their days in Portland, if there was one thing that she could remember, was that the man could deliver some powerful blows during sleep. Eleven years later, it seemed he still could. She smiled, wondering if she did the same while she was asleep. If she did, he had never told her - and she was sure he would have complained, just like he used to groan about her snoring.
Her former roommate, her mother, Mary Margaret, could vouch for that. Emma Swan was, indeed, a very loud snorer.
As she stood up and stretched, she thought that Henry would have a problematic marital life if he happened to pick up both traits from his parents: snoring and kicking would certainly make any potential wife unhappy. On the other hand, the boy seemed to have inherited his father's charms and a lot of his mother's attitude: a combination that would make any sleep condition sound immaterial to any love interest.
Boy was bound to be a heart-breaker from the head start.
Her smile faltered for a moment when she thought that they had been so close to being a family, the three of them. That she and Neal could have raised Henry together, seen his first steps, heard his first words, if only... She shook her head, trying to force back the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. There was no point thinking about what could have been, she knew that.
She only wished it didn't hurt so much.
Trying to see the bright side of it - her son had found her, led her back to her parents, and now Neal was back as well, albeit under rather convoluted circumstances - she approached the desk, and saw a large cup of Starbucks hot chocolate next to a note.
'Good morning, sheriff. You in the mood for some treasure hunting?'
She peeked out of the window to check the weather, and raised an eyebrow at the heavy drizzle outside.
"Oh, yeah... You have no idea," she muttered, before reading on.
'Yeah, I knew you would be. First stop: Café Armand. See map below.
PS: Hope the hot chocolate is still hot, by the way. It's not as good as Granny's, but still...'
She folded the note and looked at the map he had drawn. Cafe Armand was at the end of an alley, and laughter rattled inside her chest when she saw a little yellow dot at the middle of the narrow street, an arrow and then the words:
'This is where I had parked my stolen car. Never again!'
The place was as not as run-down as she remembered it. A decade later, the alley where the two of them had met, where it all had begun, was no longer covered by graffiti and commerce had thrived. Cafe Armand itself was a quaint little coffee shop with small flower pots on each table, jazz music playing quietly over the counter as friendly-looking people sipped their coffees and read their newspapers.
"Ms. Swan?"
She had barely taken a seat when one of the waiters approached her.
"Yes?"
"Here you go."
The man gave her an envelope, and then excused himself before she could actually ask what that was all about. She didn't really need to, however: as soon as she pulled out the piece of paper from inside the envelope, she recognized Neal's handwriting.
'Okay. Now that you are officially in it, it's time for your first clue. No, actually, a word of explanation: my younger self mapped this out more than a decade ago, but as soon as I got to Portland, I realized a lot of things had changed, and some of the places we used to know no longer exist. Including that Shelly's Donut Parlor you used to love: sorry, baby. Guess that clue is lost forever…'
She stopped reading for a moment, and let her eyes wander back to the beginning of the note. His writing had gotten much better, at least from what she could remember. Neal had always been a fan of books, but also very unsure of his reading and writing skills. Now that she knew the details of his past, she finally understood why he kept asking her to read some stories aloud, and why he felt so self-conscious every time she asked him to write down the instructions for their hits.
She was happy that in those eleven years, he had apparently gotten some formal training. She knew how much it must have meant to him.
'I tried my best to keep the original route intact, but in case you come to a dead end at any time of the day, gimme a call and your knight in the shiny armor will come to your rescue. And if the knight fails, call the thief – he always delivers. Unless you fool around too much, this will take a couple of hours max, and some walking around the vicinity. That said, here goes:
"You want fries to go with that, sis?"
Don't let me down. Clue number two will be waiting for you there.
PS: I hope you have brought your umbrella; if you haven't, the clerk has one for you.'
She folded the note and put it back into the envelope, grinning widely. Yes, she knew exactly what he was talking about, but unless she was mistaken, the place she was supposed to head to was at least ten blocks away.
"Better get that umbrella..." she whispered, before heading to the counter under the gaze of a very curious clerk.
"Emma! Let's go"
She was still walking in the rain when Neal called out for her, sheltering himself from the rain under a bus stop on the sidewalk.
Her initial idea was to spend the night in a bed, have a hot meal for a change, get some dry clothes... But now she felt empty and sad, and the idea of going to a shelter only made her feel worse. It only made her remember that she had no one to look after her, that a shelter was the closest thing to a home she would ever get, and that it would never feel like a home at all: it was merely a place where she would be surrounded by strangers, by equally gloomy people who barely remembered who they were, who meant nothing to other people, who would never be missed if they died on their sleep.
No one would miss her if she was gone.
She felt tears stream down her face when she thought of the last home she had been sent to, how her other siblings were happy with each other, how they had bonded and how she, despite all efforts not to, had felt like an outcast.
She wished she could belong somewhere, with someone.
The rain kept pouring over her head, and she was grateful for the raindrops that were mixing with her tears: this way, she wouldn't have to explain anything to the man who was now running towards her, covering his head with his jacket.
"Emma! Get out of the rain!" she heard him say, stretching the jacket over her head as well. "I've parked the bug, I'll go to the shelter with you."
"I've changed my mind."
"What?"
"I don't wanna go anymore."
She lifted her gaze to his, and saw him frown. The rain might have washed away the tears on her face, but her eyes were surely swollen and reddish, and her blocked nose changed her voice far too much for it to go unnoticed.
"Are you cr-"
"Can you lend me some clothes while I dry mine?"
For a moment, she thought he would insist, bombard her with questions until she finally told him what was going on. But instead, he simply raised his eyebrows, and urged her out of the rain.
"Sure..." he replied, as the two of them walked to the spot where the bug was parked. Every now and then, she could feel he would turn his head to look at her, but whatever he was thinking of saying never made it to his mouth. "I have to warn you, though," he said, as soon as they got to a parking space in front of a liquor store, "I'm not sure my clothes qualify as vintage. I get the feeling they are more like "dress-as-a-beggar" instead."
"That's fine," she whispered.
"I'm only saying," he replied, as he gave her a flannel shirt and a pair of jeans after careful consideration, as if choosing the items that looked the least shabby. Not that he had much to choose from: apart from them, there were only other two or three pieces of clothing on the trunk. "Because your clothes are quite... fancy, if you know what I mean."
She let out a sad chuckle when he studied her figure with a raised eyebrow, his face full of unasked questions that one day she would gladly answer.
"Thanks," she replied, grabbing the clothes and looking over his shoulder into the trunk. "Where do you keep your underwear?"
"What? What do you want my underwear for?"
"What do you think?"
She giggled when he blushed a little, scratching his head before reaching for a plastic bag hidden under the other clothes.
"Boxers or briefs?" he asked.
"A thong would be nice."
It was his turn to chuckle.
"Sorry. I left the Chippendales a while ago."
She tried not to, but before she knew it, she was laughing heartily at his words as she picked the white briefs he was handing her.
"Those are clean, right?"
He frowned at her question, looking deeply offended.
"Just asking. Turn around."
She knew enough of the world to know that undressing next to a man was not a very wise thing to do, but Neal Cassidy seemed to be so tremendously uninterested in her that she felt safe enough to trust him to protect her from sight as she got rid of her soaked clothes.
"You will end up catching a cold," he muttered, his back still turned to her.
"Nah. Colds are for sissies."
And then, just as she finished buttoning up her shirt, she sneezed, and whipped her head around to look at him, who was still not looking.
"Told ya."
"Oh, shut up," she replied, rubbing her nose and sniffing. "Do you have a belt?
"Yes."
"Can I borrow it?"
"I'm wearing it."
She remained silent, and waited until he turned his head to look at her.
"What?" he asked, and then his eyes finally caught her hand holding the front of the jeans she was wearing. Of course, they were far too big for her. "Okay, fine," he said at last, as he unbuckled his belt and gave it to her, complaining quietly under his breath.
"Thanks."
"Dressed to kill, ain't you?"
She chuckled again, unable to stop herself. She shouldn't be having so much fun with a random guy she barely knew, but at the same time...
"You hungry?"
His voice brought her back to reality.
"Kind of."
"Good," he replied, patting her on the shoulder before opening the car door. "Then hop in. There's something I want to teach you."
Not much later, the two of them were at the entrance of a fast-food drive thru.
"Next time you decide to go for a walk in the rain, Sherlock," he said, as she rubbed her arms and tried to warm herself, "make sure you take off your boots, at least."
She rolled her eyes, unwilling to concede part of the reason she was shaking so much was because she did not have a spare pair of shoes, and her feet were now freezing even after Neal had lent her his only spare pair of socks while they waited for her boots to dry.
"S-So," she replied, trying to steady her voice despite her chattering teeth, "what is the plan?"
"Okay, check this out," he turned to look at her as he licked his lips, and his eyes were full of excitement as he spoke. "I am going to order something, and you will interrupt me all the time with something different so that whoever is taking our order gets really confused, okay? Now, the thing is. The last part, the part when we pay... Or don't pay, right?" he paused to smirk, and she couldn't help but notice he looked awfully proud of himself. "This is crucial. Always keep eye contact. Keep the person's eyes glued to yours. If they are not paying total attention to what you are saying, they will notice what you're doing, and that's exactly what we don't want, ok?"
He was so enthusiastic about his own idea that she didn't have it in her to find flaw in his plan, so she simply nodded in agreement.
"So my part will be to confound the person taking the order?"
"Yup," he replied, biting his tongue as he pulled into the drive thru.
It didn't take long for her to fully understand what his trump card really was: the man was a natural flirter. She spent a long minute studying his face as he smiled and winked at the girl taking the order, wetting his lips every now and then. No wonder she had though he was hitting on her the day they met... he was good at that game, pretending he was interested when he actually wasn't.
When he turned his head to stare at her with wide eyes, she realized she was falling behind with her duty, and rushed into action.
"Sorry, can you add extra mayo to that?" she said, leaning over his lap to talk to the girl at the booth.
"N-No mayo," he whispered, and when she turned her head to look at him, she realized his eyes had fallen upon the hand she had placed on his thigh. "No mayo!"
"And can I have caramelized onions?"
"No, no onions, pickles. Lots of it."
"No pickles! Onions!
"And chipotle sauce, double cheese, bacon..."
"Double bacon and no cheese for me!"
"You want fries to go with that, sis?"
"Of course!
"Two large fries, then. And two small chocolate milk-shakes..."
"Strawberry."
"Okay, two strawberry milkshakes. And make them large, will you, sweetheart?"
The girl seemed to blush when he winked at her again, smiling one of his most charming smiles.
"Sorry about all the mess," he purred. "My sister here is a little indecisive."
And then, he turned his head to look at Emma, with the same smile splattered on his face, and she had the sudden urge to punch him between the eyes.
"No problem..." the girl offered, returning his smile with a wink of her own. "Will that be all?"
"Yes."
"That will be ten dollars ninety-five."
"Tell me something, sweetie..." he said, his eyes never leaving the girl's as he reached for his pocket and pulled a crumpled one-dollar bill out of it. "Do you happen to have a phone number?"
Emma rolled her eyes. Phone number, really? Was that his best pick-up line?
"I'm afraid I can't give it to you..." the girl replied, blushing violently.
"Why, you have a boyfriend?"
"No, it's not that... It's just... you know," she whispered, looking around. "Company's policy."
"Oh, too bad..." and then, he gave the girl the one-dollar bill, licking his lips as he stared at her. "I'd love to have a drink with you."
Emma's eyebrows went up, and she had to bite her tongue not to blurt out how terribly unoriginal he was.
"Yeah... Maybe some other time?"
"I can't wait."
"Right..." the girl responded, finally looking away to check the bill on her hand before she placed it on the cash register with a frown. "Hang on, how much did you give me?"
"Eleven dollars, sweetheart."
"You... you sure?" she asked, with a frown.
"Absolutely."
Emma watched as the two of them exchanged another glance, waiting for the resolution of that little charade, torn between her hunger and the desire to see Neal fall flat on his face with his silly seducing schemes.
"Sure," the girl finally replied, smiling again. "Here is your order."
"Thanks, honey."
He gave her a final wink after picking up the brown paper bags, and slowly pulled out back onto the street.
"Wow..." Emma said, rummaging through the packages and stuffing her mouth with french fries. "From girlfriend to sister, talk about a change in a relationship."
He let out a chuckle, before parking the bug in an alley and placing one of the bags on his lap.
"What are you talking about? As far as I'm concerned, you're still wearing my underwear."
"Yeah, I guess that bonds us… in a very unique way."
"It does. It's almost like… a pact."
Her eyes caught up with his, and she had the slight impression that his smile had never been that genuine before. But then again, she had to remind herself that lying to people was apparently what he did for a living, and even if it wasn't, it was not as if she could expect Neal Cassidy to be anything more than a business associate... The man didn't seem to take that kind of interest in her, and maybe it was better that way.
"Well, if it is a pact, then you have to wear my underwear as well."
"My oh my, you're full of fetishes, aren't you?" he giggled. "What have I gotten myself into…"
"I wonder if your girlfriend got our orders right?"
"Someone here is jealous..."
"Why would I be, I'm just your sister, remember?"
"Yeah right..." he kept smirking at her as he unwrapped his sandwich, and then his smile disappeared from his face. "Oh no!"
"What?"
When he leaned over to look at her sandwich and confirm his suspicions, his shoulders drooped in defeat.
"They actually put extra mayo... in the two sandwiches."
Not for the first time that day, Emma Swan laughed for very long minutes, feeling bits of anger and misery that had long ago been imprinted on her dissolve as she looked at his pouting face.
"Don't blame the poor thing. I'm sure she was too busy swooning over your charms to even notice."
"Well..." he muttered, after letting out a sigh and exchanging his sandwich for her fries. "There is no such thing as perfection, is there?"
And then, he was looking at her again, and she felt her heart skip a beat.
"No," she answered, clearing her throat as she shifted on her seat. "There isn't."
