A/N: I had way too much fun writing this chapter, especially a certain scene. I ask all of your forgiveness now. XD

Emma doesn't waste time when she gets back to her cabin, stripping and going directly to her shower, turning the knobs to cold, and stepping underneath as soon as she can. It's a mistake, even though it feels like heaven, because the sound she makes when her breath hitches, the way the air backs up right into her lungs again, makes her think of the way Killian had looked at her while she was cleaning the mirror. His eyes had darkened in a way she can only think was arousal, and he had sighed something like want and regret at the same time and she imagines she pictured the same possibilities he did at that exact moment.

After only a brief second, she adjusts the temperature until it's tepid. She diligently showers off the sweat and exertion, only staying in long enough to wash herself so her mind doesn't stray to things less innocent and definitely not clean.

Slicking back her hair, she wrings out the extra water before wrapping it in a towel, drying herself with another one before slipping on her robe. Thankfully, her cabin's AC is just fine and she's surprised she hasn't done something dumb like suggesting they practice in her cabin, in her bed… horizontally.

With another noise of irritation at herself, she storms out of the bathroom, and is immediately proud of herself for not screaming when Ruby greets her from the same bed she was just imagining defiling.

"What are you doing here?"

"Came to see my dance buddy. I was finally cleared for moving as long as I don't overdo it," Ruby responds brightly, pointing at the air cast around her ankle. "Now, what the hell are you up to?" It's not just an inquiry; there's accusation in the words, like she knows what Emma was thinking before she walked back into the room.

"What do you mean?" Emma's voice is all nonchalant innocence, and she ducks into her closet to change into shorts and a tank top since her idea of lounging around in her robe is now out of the question. "I'm teaching – twice as many lessons and classes, I'd like to add – and trying to get ready for this performance." She pokes her head out to give her friend a pointed look at this.

Ruby hums in response, shifting to lean back on Emma's bed. "And how's that going? You came to see me once right after I hurt my ankle to ask which dance was better and you've been shut up in the studio ever since."

"I'm not a shut in," she says, disappearing back into her closet.

"You haven't gone to staff dances for the last two weekends."

"So? I haven't been in the mood."

"Which is totally like you, and I would buy it, if it weren't for Mulan saying the studio was lit up like the Fourth of July last Friday night with music. What are you hiding, Emma Swan?"

She takes her time coming back out, waffling between telling the truth and trying to lie through her teeth. This way, Ruby doesn't see the war going across Emma's face while she wrings her hands. Taking one last deep breath, she walks out and tries her best to not fidget as she starts to explain.

"Okay, so I did find a partner for the Mills Regency trial run thing."

"Really? But that's great news! Why wouldn't that be…" She trails off, her head cocking to one side as she considers Emma again. "Who is it?"

"It's a man named Killian."

"And where did you meet Killian? Because I know for sure he's not in any of our shared social circles." When Emma still refuses to spit out the fact that he's a guest at the camp, Ruby finally must surmise it on her own. "Emma Middle Name Swan!" Emma snorts, because she doesn't have a middle name so this is how Ruby has always taken to yelling at her, but then she remembers that Ruby is yelling at her and she cringes as her friend continues. "Tell me he's not a guest. Please, I am begging you, tell me this partner is not paying to be here."

Emma groans by way of answer, dropping onto the bed dramatically, face down, continuing to groan as she does. "That's not the worst of it," she says, though it's muffled by the mattress and blankets beneath her. She's already gone this far; she might as well tell Ruby everything at this point. With a deep breath in as soon as she lifts her head, she continues. "I kissed him."

Ruby's screeching answer is totally deserved, and Emma listens to approximately thirty seconds of her friend berating her before she shifts again to sit up on the bed. "Okay, okay. I deserve all of that. But Red, wait 'til you see him. You'll understand everything after that, I'm pretty sure."

"Oh, now I'm gonna see him? After you've made bad decisions?"

"You have to. I've just decided that you need to sit in on our practices and help me coach him. It's not like you're doing anything else."

"I've taken up pottery, thank you very much. But I'll agree that you need a chaperone to be alone with this man if you're going to jeopardize everything with dumb actions like kissing him." Ruby emphasizes the last two words by smacking Emma's arm with each syllable. "So you're going with Mambo?"

"We're going with Mambo," Emma responds. With a noise, she pulls out her phone and opens her pictures. Internet and cell connections out at camp are spotty at best, but she made sure to save a bunch of pictures of her ideas for what Killian should wear for the performance. "You need to help me get some costumes for him."

Ruby makes grabby hands at Emma's phone, flicking through the choices with glee. "Do you have shoes for him yet?"

"I had Graham overnight a pair after we first started. He's been breaking them in for about two days now."

"When is the next time you're practicing?"

"Tonight. He's coming back after dinner and we're gonna run through what he's learned. You up for a visit later?"

The smile Ruby gives is one Emma knows well, full of power and teeth, and that special Ruby glint in her eyes. "I can't wait."

If Killian is bothered by Ruby being in the studio with them, he doesn't show it. In fact, Emma might even say he looks a little calmer. Maybe the fact that they're not alone is a good thing for his mind, too. Whatever the case, the two of them start working on getting Killian into better shape. With her friend's directions, Killian is improving faster, which is also beneficial since they don't have to run the same steps over and over again.

Ruby's not always able to come to the practices, but she tries to be there as much as possible. When she starts some light physical therapy on her ankle to strengthen it, she mostly schedules her appointments for right before or after Emma's lessons with Killian so she can stop on her way to and from the small medical building.

Killian adjusts quickly to the two of them instructing him. Ruby calls out tips and reminders as they move through the different sections of the routine, which builds his muscle memory stronger than it was developing before.

She stops them at one point, readjusting in her chair next to the stereo to fix them both with her gaze. "Okay, it's good. But it needs to be better. Regina will expect this to set the room on fire. I want the audience to look at either one of you and be jealous of the other. So, while I know Emma is fine with turning up the heat, let's focus on you, Killian."

His eyebrows climb up his forehead at Ruby's words and Emma has to stop herself from chuckling. She remembers this method, and Ruby is probably enjoying herself way too much. But she also wants to see how Killian handles this.

"What do you mean, lass?"

"To really sell a dance, I need to want to be up there dancing with you. So make me want you. Make me jealous that it's Emma there in your arms instead of me. Sell it." She emphasizes the last two words, turning them from a simple direction to a challenge, and Killian is the kind of guy that enjoys a challenge, if Emma were to guess.

His whole visage is blank, but he seems to be considering the words and how to go about following directions. When the music starts again, Killian's hold feels different. It feels… incredible, and somewhere between tender and possessive. It's somewhere in the second section of steps that Emma sees that uptick of his lips, the flirty little smile that sends a pang into her stomach and beyond that makes her want to stop the dance altogether and kiss him until she's breathless.

She's unable to stop the soft noise escaping her lips when they finish, their foreheads pressed tightly together and his lips so close it would take barely a movement to touch. Killian's eyes widen a bit, his own breath sucking into his lungs as his hand tightens on her waist.

They're both pulled from the moment by Ruby clapping her hands and a sound of glee calling to them. "Excellent! Yes! That is the kind of spirit you want to take with you."

When her eyes meet Ruby's again, there's a knowing glint in them – the look says everything she's feeling isn't as hidden as she hoped it would be. She's going to kill her roommate, of that she is certain. With an indulgent sigh, she walks over to Ruby and snatches the remote out of her hand. Instead of the comment Emma is expecting, though, Ruby tugs her close.

"You were right about all this. He's damn good."

Emma smiles then, a quiet "I know" her only response before she reaches for her towel and blots along her neck. "One more time," she says to the room at large, catching the barest hint of a smug expression on Killian's face that lets her know he heard the compliment. Good. Maybe he's finally letting go of the insecurity they've been working to eradicate this whole time, then.

As far as the practices where they're alone, the time is much better utilized and it's all business. Because of that, she's spending less time with him, even if the way he holds her is starting to feel more intimate than a lover's tocuh, more so than the way they kissed each other, and so it's definitely a case of one step forward, two steps back… pun not intended.

Whatever the case, Killian is the very image of professional when they're together. He does his best to keep eye contact (which he's passed with flying colors since their first trust exercise) and not look at his feet. It's all vast improvement, but they're still not quite to the level of quality that Emma wants to present at the Mills Regency.

The date of the performance is starting to loom in the near-distant future, and Emma realizes, quite startlingly, that she's more nervous about this performance than she thought she would be.

A week before their performance date, she gets a text from Granny that a large parcel is waiting for her at the diner, and Emma immediately leaves to go pick it up. She knows the studio is empty the rest of the afternoon due to Tink moving her yoga class to the main lawn thanks to a break in the weather, so Emma takes time to hang all the costumes that Graham sent to her. Killian can run the whole number with minimal problems now, so she doesn't mind taking an afternoon to play dress-up instead. It'll certainly be an interesting change from their normal schedule.

-x-

When Killian shows up, Emma is all alone. This isn't uncommon, as her friend Ruby isn't always in attendance (and wasn't that a surprise the first time she was there, sitting in a chair with her ankle propped up on the stereo casing with a slow, nearly-feral grin spreading across her lips as she beckoned him over to introduce herself), but then, Emma also seems to be nervously fussing with the partition screen that's usually in the corner hiding all the yoga gear.

Today, it's dragged to the opposite corner that doesn't have any windows behind it, and Emma is just finishing hooking a hanger onto the top of it on the side facing the corner.

"So, Ruby has physical therapy and can't be here, but since we've just about gotten the dance down, next comes making you look like a dancer in appearance. I'm very lucky to have a friend in the city willing to overnight male costumes to Granny's, so we just need to find which one works best for you." She turns as she finishes speaking, a smile on her face that looks half-predatory – much like a smile he'd expect on Ruby's face instead of Emma's.

"Excellent," is all he can really respond, because Emma's still giving him that look and he doesn't know what else to say.

He doesn't notice anything out of the ordinary with the costumes, except that they look a little tighter than what he'd normally choose to wear. That is, however, until he slides on a pair of the trousers. He's admiring the elastic waist and the satin band at the top of it when he turns to grab the shirt and stops in his tracks.

"Emma?"

"Yes?" She draws out the word, like she's been waiting for his question since he walked behind the partition. He grabs the hanger with his prosthetic and moves around the screen.

"You seem to have forgotten to explain the order in which my clothing should go on."

"Yeah, about that." She reaches out and grabs the sides of the fabric, bringing the bottom portion of the costume into better view. "All of the shirts have these attached so your shirt doesn't come untucked as you're dancing. It's really stretchy. You won't even notice it!"

Skepticism is an understatement for how he feels. He still tries them on over his boxer-briefs, unsure of etiquette procedures when trying on things that will be intimately touching him if he's not even going to be wearing some of them. And it's just as well, since it takes until the third one for Emma to nod approvingly at the option. The first two, as she claimed, just didn't match her vision.

While she likes the third one, she still urges him back to try on the last one so they're sure. Before he's even finished putting it on, he likes it better than the others. There's a zipper down the front of it that ends at his sternum, and he has to be exceedingly careful while pulling it into place so as not to catch any of his chest hair in it.

He doesn't feel exposed until Emma is walking around him in a circle, looking at the fit and humming in thought. The arms are made of solid material, but the fabric along his sides and down his back is blocked in a way that thin strips of his bare skin are visible from every angle through the nearly-mesh material. The big positive he can pull from this choice is the fact that the sleeves come down far enough on his wrists that it covers the hardware for his prosthetic. It definitely makes him feel slightly more confident than he was the day Emma kissed him.

"We have a problem," Emma says suddenly, and Killian looks at her in alarm.

"Don't tell me I have to lose the trousers or something because I've got to draw the line somewhere."

"No, no. Nothing like that. It's just that," she starts, pausing to move forward and touch the very hair he was afraid of getting caught in the zipper. "We've got a bit of a hairy situation going on here."

He looks down at his chest, and back to Emma, and back down to where her index finger is still resting on his breastbone. "You don't mean…"

The grim line her lips make answers the question for him.

"I have to…shave it?"

"It might be easier to go to the spa and have them wax it."

"Pardon?" If his face was the picture of alarm before, he's not sure what level his expression and his voice pitch would indicate now.

"There's a great salon in Storybrooke. We can pop out around lunch time in a couple days when no one will notice and have them do it. For now, we practice!" She pushes the screen against the wall again, leaving everything else as is and handing him his shoes. "It'll help to know how you feel wearing this, so we'll just do one quick run-through with the costume."

Emma is wearing the same leggings she normally does, but there's a sheer skirt swishing around over top of them, and the shoes she's wearing are in much better condition than the ones she's been wearing as they've been training. He wonders if her nicer shoes are because he's getting better.

"New shoes?" he asks as he ties his own.

"Nah, performance shoes. I figured now that you're not stepping on my toes that we can put these ones into rotation."

"And the skirt?"

"So you can get used to the way my dress will move the day we perform. Ready?"

She doesn't really wait for his answer, instead grabbing the remote and moving into position as soon as she's done talking. He's not the only one that came to the studio extra caffeinated today, it seems.

He wanders around the campgrounds while Emma teaches classes during the late morning a few days later, waving to Liam without even hiding his bemusement as his brother follows a group, all of them carrying kayaks by the ones and twos as they go. They disappear down the beach while Killian wonders if there are any activities that Liam hasn't tried since they got here, but it certainly seems like the summer away is more beneficial than Killian initially gave it credit for. That goes for both of them.

Checking his watch, he starts to make his way up towards the dance studio so he can meet up with Emma. She's just coming around the side of the building, her keys in one hand as she slips on a pair of sunglasses.

The yellow car he leads her to gives him pause, however.

"Couldn't drive anything less obvious?"

"It's so common to see me around town during the summer that it would be more suspicious if I was driving anything else."

"And this thing will get us there?"

"Are you insulting my car?" she asked, a raise of her eyebrow and a smile on her lips.

"I wouldn't dare. This is quite the vessel you captain, Swan."

"That's what I thought," she responded, her tone matter-of-fact as she released the emergency brake and shifted the car into reverse.

And it is quite the car, filled with quirks he'd expect from an old model Volkswagen, but it's more the way Emma drives it, like she was born to drive nothing else. With the route in her capable hands, Killian leans back and enjoys the scenery, content to watch it pass by like he did on his initial drive in.

After so long of being at the camp, Killian had sort of forgotten that there was a world outside the wooded grounds. Sure, he'd found a new second home in the studio and discovered that there was life outside his rum and cabin, and he'd had the ultimate experience of going with Emma to the staff's lodge after hours, but things like streetlights, on streets, and storefronts are damn near alien to him at this point. It's been almost two months since they drove through Storybrooke on their way in, and already his life feels totally different than when they ate lunch at Granny's.

Since he lost his hand, this is the biggest shift he's had in his life, and he's loathe to find any problems with it. As an apprentice in building boats, he dedicated his whole being to crafting the perfect vessel for the customer.

Similarly, learning to dance is just learning a new form of art. He's aware of every bead of sweat that gathers along his forehead. He's in tune with every guiding gesture Emma gives him, and the way her breathing always seems to stay even while they're dancing. He reflects on all of this, trying to acclimate this idea of "new" to his mind and body before they actually arrive.

Currently, he notices the way his heartbeat races just a little bit faster when Emma parks her car along the main stretch of the small town that felt so comfortable and homey to him. She beams at him, instructing him out of the car as she swings open her door.

"I grew up here after David's mom adopted me," Emma offers up as she looks up and down the street. "If anyone asks, you're new staff at the camp."

He doesn't mention that he's already been here, but it hardly seems relevant as she's leading him down a walkway in the opposite direction of the diner. Her arm loops easily through his, and Killian feels his heart turn over painfully in his chest with the realization of what he's feeling. It's attraction. He's attracted to her. And it's beyond the idea of physical gratification. The kiss was eye-opening, but this easy affection and compatibility is the real thing.

The kiss can be explained away as a heat-of-the-moment event where the humidity overwhelmed them, the long hours tricked them into an impulsive moment of passion. But as they've spent time together and he's become so harmonious with her movements, he's also noticed the itch to hold her in his arms. There was no thought behind the kiss, but he's done plenty of thinking about doing it again.

Even with all the agitation his early foibles caused during her lessons, she would regroup and find patience, and in no time at all he had her laughing at his jokes and smiling at his own special blend of self-deprecation. She'd shake her head and roll her eyes and get them back on track. He also understands that it's not because she agrees with whatever he claims about himself, but because she can see past whatever he sees in the mirror when he looks at himself. Plus, there's no pity, even though she now knows much more of his sad backstory than he meant to let on.

She's never treated him with kid-gloves.

The jingling of a bell over the door Emma opens brings him back to the present, and he relaxes when he discovers they're just in an ice cream parlor.

"Hi Ingrid," Emma greets, a wide smile crinkling her eyes as she greets the woman behind the counter. "One rocky road and one rum raisin, please."

As the older woman scoops the requested flavors, they catch up in a series of quick back-and-forth statements, clearly a ritual honed with time and experience, with Killian's introduction thrown in there somewhere. Ingrid spends plenty of time shifting her focus between the two of them, but if she has anything to comment about the way Emma is standing close to him, she doesn't say so.

With cones in hand, Emma motions him back outside and calls out a farewell on her way.

"Let's call this a preemptive apology for what's about to happen. But no dancer, no professional one – which is what we're trying to pass you off as – would have this much chest hair."

"So this is bribery ice cream," he clarifies as they stand outside of an innocent looking spa.

"Sure."

"How'd you know I'd like rum raisin?"

"I had a hunch and hoped for the best," she admits, smiling between bites of her cone.

With a warm breeze ruffling her hair and her sunglasses perched on her nose, Killian takes a moment to pretend that this isn't what it is, that it's something closer to a first date, where they'd take a walk to the docks he can just see in the distance and their fingers would link together. The swooping of his stomach lets him know exactly how he'd feel about such an event, so he releases it from his thoughts to dance away on the summer air. It's just as well, as he takes the last few bites of his cone and accepts the napkin she hands him. Once they determine there's no ice cream on either of their faces, she pulls open the door and gestures for him to enter.

"Emma! It's been too long!" the blonde behind the counter greets Emma much like Ingrid did – with familiarity and years of encounters such as these. The girl, only introduced as Goldie, shakes his hand when they walk up to the counter. "Hot date?" she asks, wiggling her eyebrows at both of them in turn.

Emma laughs, accepting the form and pen that Goldie gives her and starts filling it out. "Yeah, because all good first dates include an appointment at a salon to have chest hair waxed off."

"Sounds better than some dates I've been on," he comments, raising his eyebrows and looking away again as he looks over the spa options. "Admit it Swan, it's just further reason to have me shirtless in front of you."

She squints hard at him, trying to suss out something from what he's said. "You flirt harder when you're nervous. You know that?"

He has no response to that, especially when Goldie comes back to the counter and directs them back to a room with a padded table. There's a chair set up next to it, and a counter displaying a wide variety of products he has no knowledge of.

"Emma, why don't we wait out in the hallway while Killian undresses?" Emma smirks and nods, heading back out the door while Goldie explains that he needs to get fully naked. "There's a sheet over there. Just drape that over your waist and I'll be back in a moment."

Following directions, he folds his clothes and places them on the chair, hopping up onto the table and spreading the sheet over his waist and legs. He's comfortable in the knowledge that at least there will be no wax below the belt. Lifting the sheet briefly, he purses his lips. No, no wax. But it could stand to see a set of trimmers. Just as he settles it back down, there's a soft knock before Goldie edges the door open.

"All set in here?"

"Aye, as I'll ever be."

She starts to laugh, but when she enters and gets a look at him it abruptly cuts off. "You were not joking," she says to Emma as the other woman enters.

"Told you so." Emma moves his clothes to her lap as she takes a seat, scooting as close to the side of the table as she can. "I'm here for emotional support as long as you need me to be. I'm going to prop my elbow right here, so if you need to hold my hand, it's there for you. Remember to relax as much as you can, and keep breathing."

"You're not helping, love."

"Yeah," she says, flashing him a wide grin. "I know. But it's fun to watch you squirm."

Goldie surprises him by taking a stick and swiping on a long stripe of what she explains is a hard wax. "We have to let this set up so I'm going to do a couple spaced out swatches and we'll go from there. How are you at handling pain?"

Lifting his left arm, he raises an eyebrow at her. "I've lost a hand, lass. I think I'll be fine."

For the record, he's not fine. It hurts. And even after the wax is ripped from his skin, the pain has him reaching out without realizing it and grabbing Emma's hand. She's trying so hard not to laugh that she's almost turning as blue as the wax Goldie is applying to his skin again.

"So glad one of us is enjoying this," he whimpers out, gritting his teeth as another section of wax is deemed dry enough and Goldie unsticks an edge to get a grip on it.

"You're doing great," Emma says, ruffling her free hand through his hair.

He doesn't notice the next three strips come off because he and Emma have both realized exactly how close they are, how little distance there is between their faces. Her hand pauses in his hair and her other hand relaxes at the same time his does, moving from a gesture of support to one of… is this affection?

The moment is broken when Goldie announces she needs to grab a bottle of lotion from the front room and leaves them alone. He's so tempted to pull her closer, to taste her lips once more. But he can tell by the rigidity her stance takes on that she's not on the same page right now. And even if she is, she's too scared or holding back or hiding from it.

"This alone should be repayment for throwing up on you the day we met," he says to break the tension. When Emma laughs, he sort of melts on the table. He grins in response, turning to look down at his chest and he makes a noise of disbelief. It's all gone. "Bloody hell."

"Wow. Shit you're pale. Oh god we're gonna have to tan your chest. Why didn't I think of that?" She stands, placing his clothes back on the chair to take her place. "I need to make another stop in town. You okay to finish up here? They'll do clean-up services on your facial hair, too, if you'd like. Just tell Goldie what you want and she'll take care of it."

With barely another glance back at him, Emma nearly sprints from the room. He can hear her say something to Goldie and then her voice disappears from range and the door is pushed back open as Goldie enters. "Emma said she'd be back in about a half hour. Want anything else taken care of while you're here?"

Thinking for a minute, Killian scrunches his nose. It's not ideal. He'd rather be at home in the privacy of his own bathroom for such things, but he still nods. "I can think of a few things." Reaching for his shorts, he grabs his wallet and hands over his credit card. "Put the total on there," he says, grabbing the services sheet from Goldie when she hands it over and tallying up what he'd like.

It's a while before he slides into his own clothes again, but even when he does he ends up in another chair to get his hair trimmed and his beard clipped. He didn't realize quite how much all his hair had grown since they got to camp. By the time he's all done, everything feels clean and crisp, and he's just starting to get used to the way his shirt feels without the barrier of hair that usually comes between his skin and the fabric.

"Now, apply this lotion again later on. No sweating or swimming for the next twenty-four hours, and come back again in three to six weeks. Okay?"

As far as the "three to six weeks" portion goes, Killian scoffs. His skin is burning in so many places he can't keep track anymore, but he feels neat and well-kempt and about a stone lighter than when he walked in. He keeps all of the swear words that want to escape to himself though, and just signs the charge slip that Goldie prints and hands to him.

He knocks his sunglasses back onto his nose as he exits the spa, calling out a farewell as he goes, only to nearly collide with Emma.

"Oh! All done?"

"Yep, all taken care of," he tells her. If his voice is a little tighter than it was when they got to the spa, he's sure she won't take it personally. He did just rip off all his chest hair for her.

"I grabbed some food at Granny's for the ride home. Goldie said you wouldn't be able to run through the number again today, and I figured you deserve something more than camp food for once."

"We had food from her on our way in. Best lunch I've had in ages."

"I'm not surprised. Granny's is basically a rite of passage on the way to camp, even if you've never heard of it. Probably has something to do with the fact that she's the only casual dining place for miles."

He takes the food from her, setting it on the floor by his feet for the drive back. When he goes to take the small shopping bag from her, however, she quickly throws it into the back seat.

"I'll give you what you need from that when we get back," is all she tells him.

They amble their way back through the grounds once they return, with Emma finishing the last of her onion rings and Killian still working through his French fries. She has two plastic bags looped over her wrist, and he waits patiently while she separates the items and hands him one after she's finished her food.

"Will you need help with the self-tanner?"

"No, I should be able to manage all right," he says, instilling himself with false-confidence over this matter. It's not like he's ever used tanning lotion before. But he's just as stubborn as she is in many ways, so he decides he'll figure it out on his own.

"Well, you can take the rest of the day off," Emma says once they get to a point where she'll go left for the studio and he'll go right. She hesitates for a moment, shuffling her feet for just a second before she speaks up again. "My… my cabin is right behind the studio. It's a little hidden by the trees but if you walk to the back and follow the stone path, you'll find it. If you need anything and I'm not at the studio, that's where I'll usually be. Okay?"

"Aye. Thanks, love." They stand there in silence for a minute more, not moving closer, not moving away, until voices on the path send them both turning and scurrying away.

The next day, there's an undercurrent of stress running through both of them. He spends much less time trying to look at the mirror than he thought he would at this point, and looking at his feet is the furthest thought in his mind. He knows from muscle memory when he's not doing something correctly, but now he doesn't derail the whole number just because he did one small thing wrong. Instead, he makes a mental note to fix it on the next run-through.

"Stop looking like someone is going to beat you up if you don't dance the right way," Emma murmurs as they work through the steps.

"You mean you won't?"

She snorts, fighting to keep moving with him after that comment if her suddenly jerky turn is anything to go by, but she saves it and they move into the next turn smoothly. "But seriously, just play off my facial expressions so you look like you're enjoying yourself. Think of what Ruby said."

The next time they run through, he does his best to smile when she does. He listens when she tells him to relax and have fun, to pretend they aren't getting ready for a possibly life-altering dance, and he flirts with her through the number, through their movements. It earns him more than one delighted smile and laughter.

When the choreography ends this time, they're both breathless and smiling.

"Good. You're good. You got it. I'm not pushing any more today. But I need to ask, how's the tanning going?"

Killian grimaces. He's supposed to be putting the lotion on his chest, hand, wrist, neck, and face. Mostly everything is already tanned, so it doesn't need much. His chest, on the other hand, where all the hair came off is so close to his horrifying winter white.

"It's… It's going poorly," he admits. He purposely left his shirt on for the whole practice for this very reason.

"What? Why?"

He mumbles his response, turning away and probably making it harder for her to hear, but that's kind of the problem. He doesn't want her to hear how much he's struggled with the self-tanning lotion.

"Killian?"

"I can't apply it alone," he finally spits out, staring hard at his prosthetic as his fingers pick at the flesh-colored attachment.

"Oh," she responds, clearly putting the pieces together and then, "oh. Okay. Well, um. Bring it with you. Ruby will be here later on and she and I can help. Nothing we haven't done before, you know."

And it's fine when it's Ruby, even if she's leering the whole time she's buffing the lotion across his chest. He rolls his eyes, avoiding eye contact with her the whole time while Emma calls out commentary reminding her to get some of the other parts to even out the color.

When he'd shown up with the bottle of lotion, they had a whole area prepped for the tanning experience, including buffers and gloves, sponges and a sheet to spread on the ground just in case. It was more than he was expecting, and he's not quite sure how Emma trusted when he said he would do it on his own if it took all of this for them to do it for him.

The next day, when it's Emma applying the lotion, neither of them speak the whole time, nor make eye contact. She fixates on the work she's doing while Killian stares at the ceiling, pretending that it's Liam doing the work to stop his body from reacting.

He's never been as relieved as when Emma declares on the third day that he's as even as he's going to get, and that if he wants to add a little more to his chest on his own, it should be much easier.

"Just apply it before you go to bed tonight, and you should be good," she tells him, handing over a bag with the mitt and lotion inside. "Remember to blend it upwards into your neck, like we've been doing."

"Aye, I think I've got it." He raises an eyebrow and tries to reassure her the best he can with just that look because as the week has gone on, she's gotten more and more outwardly nervous. He can relate. It's a big deal, and it's unlike anything he's ever done before, but all he wants is to put her mind at ease that they've covered everything they possibly can.

"I can always even it out with makeup tomorrow when we get there," she tells him, apparently still running through worst case scenarios.

"Emma, love, it'll be fine. The least of our worries is my sad tan," he says, smiling and flipping her ponytail back over her shoulder to lighten the mood.

"Yeah, yeah. I get it. Okay. I'll see you in the morning for another run-through."

Before he can understand that time has moved so quickly, it's the day of the performance. Emma meets him after lunch to check that everything with his costume fits well and to do a final run through. She's still in her practice skirt, and she tells him she's waiting until they get to the Mills Regency to change into her dress so it doesn't wrinkle on the drive over.

"You can wear this when we leave or you can change when we get there. Your choice."

"I'll leave the outfit in your capable hands and change there."

He rolls his shoulders, marveling at how different the costume feels without his chest hair. The fabric is silky smooth, as everything has been recently, and he zips and unzips the shirt a few times without fear of injury, grinning as he does so.

"Oh, for the love of… You're acting like you've never used a zipper until today."

"Swan, I've not seen this much of my chest since puberty. Let a man have his fun."

She mutters something, wandering over to the stereo to grab her remote before coming back to stand in front of him. "Okay, your fun has been had. Let's run it once."

It's odd to run the dance in the costume as he's meant to be wearing for it. Last time he still had on his boxers. Now, the fabric sticks close to his body, not moving like his t-shirts or button-downs do, not moving like his shorts do. There's something sleek about it, making him feel like this is a real thing. When he looks in the mirror, he doesn't see Killian Jones: lost and broken man with baggage dragging behind him as he moves. He sees a version of himself he thought he had lost. This is Killian Jones: determined and ready to pass as a professional dancer.

He's almost loathe to take it off, but there's still time until they even perform and he can't exactly wear it around camp. He changes back into his clothes and helps Emma hang the dance outfit, slipping the garment bag over the whole thing with his shoes in the bottom so it's all ready to go.

"I'll see you back here right after dinner?" she asks.

"Aye. I'm sure Liam is so caught up in whatever he's doing that he won't even notice I'm gone."

She nods, cleaning the space in what he now recognizes as a nervous gesture. "I'm sure it'll be fine. Ruby's going to oversee a couple that's been learning together. She's not allowed to dance, but she can coach them from the sidelines just this once. They've taken enough classes by now."

"Good, then I'll see you later," he says, giving her a reassuring smile and moving towards the door before he can do something affectionate again, like hug her to expel all her nerves and fears. He has no idea how he'll handle his emotions when it's all over, but he's already dreading the end of this adventure.