A/N: In response to some reviews, I'd just like to clarify that I'm not that huge of a Carl fan either. But I think that his presence would only make Emma realize how deeply she loves Will. I see him as this guy who seems to be like the perfect match for her- except that he isn't exactly one Will Schuester. He'll be a catalyst to their feelings, so to speak. And above all, it'll be fun to see jealous!Will. Don't you agree?

For those who still want some wemma though, don't fret! I have some stuff planned out for the later chapters. In fact, the end of this chapter is a prelude to one of them.

Special thanks to 4cherryblossoms btw for the help. I owe you one! :)

It didn't take long before the hour hand pointed to seven. Emma looked at herself in the mirror one last time, gleaming with pride over her improved sense of control. She still couldn't believe that she was able to resist putting on a new set of clothes for the evening. She didn't bother to, since they would only be going out for dinner anyway. There was no point in putting on her best outfit for something so mundane.

Howell could be arriving any second. She settled down on her couch as she waited in anticipation. A minute passed, then two. When six had gone by, she started to get worried. She knew that it was silly, but she couldn't help thinking that she got stood up. One thing her therapy hasn't helped her with so far was her fixation for timeliness.

Ironically, patience was also one of her virtues, so she waited a little longer. When she thought she couldn't take it anymore, she decided to call him up. She was about to reach for the phone when a knock from the door stopped her. Breathing a sigh of relief, she walked over and greeted the dentist. Unlike her, he was all dressed up for the occasion. It was actually her first time to see him without his trademark lab coat. "Hey Emma. You ready?"

"Let me just grab my purse." She took the object lying on the sofa, which Howell noticed was still covered with plastic. Curious, he proceeded inside, noting with amusement the many variants of Lysol products set on the table and the literal spotlessness of the place. It would've sparkled, if it were possible. "I thought you weren't going to come."

"One thing you need to know about me? I'm always fashionably late," he informed her, leaning forward with a toothy grin.

As he led her out her apartment, he decided to take a risk by casually placing his hand on her back. She froze upon contact- she wasn't used to anyone touching her like this. He must have felt her uneasiness, as he quickly pulled away.

Howell drove a black sedan which Emma recognized as one of the more expensive models. It was the car that was usually parked beside the garden outside his office. She couldn't resist making a comment about how he could manage to maintain it despite apparently having a tight budget. "Keeping this in good condition must set you back a lot," she remarked as he guided her inside the vehicle, surprised at her bluntness.

He knew exactly where she was going. "I used to gamble a lot," he admitted just as bluntly. He saw no point in beating around the bush. She stared at him, as though prompting him to continue. "Used to, okay? It was one of those darker times in my life. But I'm proud to tell you that I've completely recovered," he then clarified after realizing the implications of what he had said.

"Good for you, then," Emma responded, opting not to pry any further.

The car ride was marked with some lighthearted conversations about nothing in particular. All was well until Emma's gaze shifted outside. "This isn't the way downtown," she told him with slight panic in her tone. She was too absorbed in their exchange to notice that she wasn't in familiar ground anymore.

"I know," he simply said, not taking his eyes off the road.

His answer only aggravated her anxiety. Although she was scared, she found it best to just trust him. There might be a bistro somewhere outside town that she didn't know about or something. The rest of the trip was spent in silence as she tried to comfort herself with other similar thoughts.

"We're here," Howell finally broke the stillness as he put the car in reverse. They were in a residential area, outside an apartment building to be specific. Suddenly, it all became clear to her. Instead of taking her to a restaurant as she expected, he was going to cook them dinner instead! She could only laugh at her earlier assumptions.

It was only a matter of time before they finally reached his apartment. As the room bathe in light when he flicked on the switch, the first thing that caught her eye was the grand piano at the far end. He told her to sit down and relax while he prepared their meal, motioning towards his sofa set. She insisted that she could help him out in the kitchen, but he pressed otherwise. In the end, though, she managed to convince him to at least allow her to set the table.

"Would you like some cheese on yours?" he asked her as he held a block of cheese and a grater above her plate of spaghetti.

"No, don't put cheese!" she quickly exclaimed, grabbing his wrists and placing them on his side of the table. Howell was clearly surprised by her reaction. He blinked twice, obviously waiting for an explanation. She had to think fast. "I'm, uh, lactose intolerant."

She wasn't ready to tell him about the dairy farm incident just yet. He appeared to have bought her explanation, as he merely nodded, mumbled something that she didn't quite understand and got back to eating. For the next few minutes, the clattering of their silverware against the plates replaced the usual discussion over dinner.

"So, um, you play the piano?" she asked as she twirled another mouthful of spaghetti on her fork. She wanted to break the awkward air and it seemed like the perfect ice breaker.

He smiled as his vision sauntered over the instrument. "If that's what you call my fingers banging against the keys then yes, I do play," he answered, letting out a soft chuckle afterwards.

"Can I see?"

"Of course." He gestured towards her plate, which was still half-full. "But you have to finish your food first."

Emma laughed. "All right, mom," she joked as she picked up her spoon and fork and continued eating.

When the last strand of spaghetti was cleared, she excused herself before walking towards her bag which was resting on the couch. She was about to fish out her toothbrush when Howell, as though he had been reading her every thought, told her where the bathroom was. "Toothpaste is inside the medicine cabinet," he later added as she made her way through the hall.

His bathroom, like all other rooms in his apartment, was very well-kept. She could even smell the distinct scent of Ajax as she stepped inside. She opened the cabinet and as he said, a tube of toothpaste was there. It was placed in a bright orange mug with a cartoon drawing of a dentist and his patient. The caption at the bottom, which read "Sorry I need to spit again but looking at you makes me salivate," amused her in particular.

She squeezed out a pea-sized amount before closing the cabinet door. She heard his footsteps approaching as she brushed her teeth. He joined her soon enough, cleaning his pearly whites with a precision formed from years of practicing dental care.

As she listened to the sound of their toothbrushes against their teeth, she noticed that they were doing so at the exact same time. A glace at the mirror confirmed this. It felt weird, but she simply dismissed it as a mere coincidence. He must also be using the brushing technique as her, she figured.

After rinsing, Emma placed her toothbrush back inside her purse before walking over to the piano. Howell followed not long afterwards, taking a seat beside her in the stool in front of the instrument. Before she knew it, a familiar tune began to fill her ears. It was one of her favorites, this song that she listened to for countless nights when love seemed to avoid her.

It's her hair and her eyes today
That just simply take me away

She watched his fingers dance flawlessly between the ivory keys, creating a melody that was simply beautiful. She let herself get drawn into the music, taking in each word and note. She even sang along with him in certain parts. But when they got to the chorus, things took a different turn.

'Cause I love her with all that I am
And my voice shakes along with my hands

Emma's pulse quickened. He no doubt sang with a new level of conviction. She could feel the passion, the intensity in his voice. She shifted in her seat as she began to wonder if there was more to his song choice than what she thought.

'Cause she's all that I see and she's all that I need
And I'm out of my league once again

Howell was looking straight at her when the last two lines escaped from his lips, as though he were saying them directly to her.

"I told you I suck," he then remarked with a chuckle, unaware of how shaken she was by his performance.

Emma couldn't disagree more. "Wow, Carl. You're really good!"

"And you have an amazing voice," he complimented her back, recalling her sweet soprano that complimented his baritone pitch.

"You're not so bad a singer yourself," she told him.

"I beg to differ," he promptly disagreed.

"What do you mean, your voice was good," Emma insisted.

Carl shook head slowly, his eyes set on the ivory keys. "But not good enough."

Emma was going to ask him to explain further when her cell phone began to ring. She excused herself as she stood up and took the call.

"Hello?"

"God do I miss hearing your voice."

Her eyes widened. She'd know that voice anywhere. "This isn't really, uhm, a good time Will."

"It's a terrible time, I know. But I can't help it, baby. I need you with me right now."

"Did you just call me- never mind. Is everything okay? You sound a little, uh, raspy."

He ignored her question. "I screwed up big time. I'm sorry."

"I know you are, Will," she replied after a slight pause, her voice dropping to a near whisper. Every second of their exchange was breaking her. She couldn't take it anymore. "I'll call you back later," she abruptly bade him goodbye, pushing on the end call button a little too hardly.

She was too caught up in their talk to notice that Howell was already standing right behind her. "Was that Will?" he asked, overhearing a bit of their conversation.

"Yeah," she muttered weakly.

He stared at her, concern written on his features. "You seem a little tense. Is something wrong?"

"Oh, no, no. Everything's perfectly fine," she denied, shaking her head furiously. Howell simply shrugged it off.

She stayed in his place around an hour longer before calling it a night. He joined her as she made her way out of the building. "You sure you don't want me to drive you home?" he offered her again, his keys still in hand.

"No, it's ok. You've done too much for me already. I'll just get a cab."

Although he was still reluctant, he had no choice but to agree. "Let me know when you get home all right?"

"Will do," she promised him. He kept her company until she finally boarded one.

Save for the slight discomfort she felt for being inside that microbe haven, the ride home was pretty much uneventful- that is, until her gaze shifted outside. There, parked on the side of the road with the blinkers on, was Will's car. Beside it was the owner himself, who appeared to be reasoning with a police officer. The man in uniform didn't look too happy.

"Um, excuse me. You can drop me off over there," she quickly told the driver, pointing in their direction.

Emma sighed as she stepped off the vehicle. It was going to be a long, long night.

Oh no! What could Will have done to get in trouble with the law? Stay tuned for the next chapter to find out! :D
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