Liam awoke to a dark, unfamiliar room and an empty bed. It took his sleep addled brain a few seconds to remember exactly what he was doing in a strange bed and why it was odd that he was alone in it. He grunted, shaking his head to clear the cobwebs and it finally hit him. Emma. Killian. The plan.

A deep yawn cracked his jaw as he glanced over at Emma's night stand to check the alarm clock. Just after 6:00 a.m. Technically morning, though the sun hadn't risen yet. Far too early for Emma to actually be awake, particularly on a Saturday, so she must've gone to sleep on the couch. Poor lass. His snoring likely kept her awake last night, and rather than throw a boot at him for it (as Killian would've and hadpreviously done), she'd given up the comfort of her own bed to try to get some rest in the living room. He really should get one of those mouth-guard things that Emma points out to him every time the commercial comes on the telly.

He hated to wake her if she hadn't slept well, as much out of courtesy to her as his own fear of her cantankerous morning disposition. Hell, he didn't much fancy being awake himself today, despite his customary tendencies toward early rising. He hadn't slept for shite either, his dreams dark and troubled.

He hated lying to Killian. Hated it more because, at the root of it, the entire reason he was lying was because he was too much of a coward to speak openly with his brother about his broken heart and his desire to let it heal on its own without trying to force the issue. He hadn't wanted to appear ungrateful to Killian for all his (albeit misguided) help, but wasn't this charade he was pulling with Emma a far greater ingratitude? Especially since -

Liam sighed. Perhaps he'd been seeing things, but it had seemed like after Killian and Emma's initial altercation (possibly even before that), there had been some kind of connection between the two. The three of them had sat about the living room for hours, just chatting away, and Killian had been more animated, his smiles more genuine, than Liam had seen in years. He had seemed like himself again. Had his old spark back. And he'd been sober as a priest on Sunday. Killian was easily the life of a party when he was in his cups - at least until he over imbibed and fell into sullenness - but last night he hadn't had a drop after the single glass of rum at the beginning of their meal. That would've most likely worn off before they'd even left the restaurant.

Emma, too, had been lighter, less guarded, more inclined to smile and laugh. A particularly rare thing when she was in the presence of a relative stranger. Liam loved Killian and Emma both dearly, and it did his heart good to see them that way. He knew it had nothing to do with him, though. He was the constant in the equation, each of them the other's variable. And so he wondered. Was it possible? Could his brother and his roommate have finally found in each other the potential for the happiness they each so greatly deserved?

It would be wonderful. And also completely bloody awful. Because now, due to Liam's own cowardice, Killian believed that Emma belonged to Liam. Oh, gods, I'm a stupid sod.

But perhaps he was getting ahead of himself. How much could one really tell from a single evening after all? He knew he should speak with Emma about it, and as delicately as possible. Emma tended to be skittish about her feelings, and if he called her out on them too boldly, she'd metaphorically (possibly even literally) run away. So, no then. Not speak with her, but observe . They would keep up the boyfriend/girlfriend act for now, and Liam would keep a watchful eye on both Emma and Killian to either confirm or disprove his suspicions. That should do.

However, if Killian awoke to find Emma sleeping on the couch, the ruse would be destroyed. Liam resolved to go wake her at least long enough to get her back in her own bed. He'd have to act quickly and quietly, as Killian tended to be an early riser as well as a light sleeper. He stole across the room to the door, silently twisting the knob and easing it open. He gave himself a mental pat on the back for having sprayed some WD-40 on Emma's squeaky hinge earlier in the week.

Liam stepped around the door into the living room and stopped dead in his tracks, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. 'Spose that answers that. There were Emma and Killian, sound asleep on the couch, thoroughly cozied up to each other. Emma's head rested on Killian's chest, her arm wrapped around his waist hugging him rather like a child would her teddy bear. For his part, Killian had his arm draped around Emma's shoulder, his head tilted down to rest atop hers at an angle that'd pain him in the morning, but he looked as content and at peace as Liam had ever seen him. In fact, when Liam huffed out a small laugh in spite of himself, Killian roused just enough to pull Emma more tightly to him, nuzzling his cheek against her unruly blond hair like a kitten asking to be petted.

It was all rather adorable, if quite a bit saccharine, and Liam's heart swelled at the sight of them, then promptly plummeted right down to his feet. Bollocks! What the bloody hell was he supposed to do now? Under normal circumstances he'd have taken great joy in waking the two of them up as obnoxiously as possible (after snapping a pic on his iphone for posterity's sake), and then proceeding to take the absolute piss out of his little brother for being a sap until Killian threw something at him and told him to sod off. But these were anything but normal circumstances.

Liam ducked quickly back into Emma's room and shut the door. Obviously, he needed to come clean to Killian, sooner rather than later. Emma would need a proper heads-up in advance, but he could call her from work to do that. Then perhaps they could all sit down like the adults they pretended to be, Liam could tell Killian the truth, and then Killian and Emma would be free to do as they pleased. It was the mature and responsible thing to do, but not… Not this morning.

God only knew how the two of them were going to react to waking up wrapped around each other. He knew them both well enough to know they hadn't fallen asleep that way. It would be worse if they knew he'd seen them. Killian would feel guilty, Emma would panic, and the whole opera would go to shite. For now, he would have to hide in this room until he could hear that they were both awake, and then feign ignorance for the rest of the morning.

Besides, he still wasn't completely sure they fancied each other, though the evidence he'd just seen was rather compelling. Killian liked to brag about how perceptive he is, but Liam had his moments as well. Now that he knew what to look for, he was sure he could suss out the truth of it.

Bollocks. This is going to take all bloody day! Liam thought, continuing on with a string of internal swearing. He'd not talked to Emma yet, but he'd warned Killian he would be later than expected thus prolonging the inevitable. A tiny part of him was glad for the reprieve of a few more hours before what would likely be a painful conversation in which he would have to beg his brother's forgiveness, but honestly at this point all he truly wanted was to get it over with. Since that obviously wasn't to be, well… a man had to eat, didn't he?

Liam clambered grumpily into his pickup and drove back into town. As he pulled into a parking space in Granny's lot, he decided that after lunch he'd make a quick stop over at the hardware store before heading back down to the harbour. He felt a deep and important need for some home improvement therapy right about now. Perhaps a bookshelf for all of Emma's ruthlessly dog-eared paperbacks?

As he entered the diner, he was met with a very welcome sight. Tink stood at the counter placing an order. She looked lovely as always, her riot of blonde curls swept up into a knot on top of her head, and he could just make out the rosy curve of her cheek in profile as she smiled at Granny, proprietress and namesake of this establishment. Granny returned Tink's smile before shuffling off to take the order back to the kitchen and Liam seized the moment.

He called her name and she turned, her smile widening the moment her eyes met his. "Fancy meeting you here, lass," he said as his fingernails found that spot on the back of his neck that always seemed to need attention when Tink was around. "I was hoping I'd see you today. I wanted to thank you." She cocked her head to the side quizzically. "I mean for getting us all that reservation last night. I do appreciate the trouble you went to for Emma's sake, and dinner was lovely."

Tink nodded thoughtfully. "For Emma's sake. Right." She narrowed her emerald eyes at him. "Actually speaking of Emma, she called me earlier today. She told me something rather interesting. Would you want to snag that booth over there, and chat for a bit?"

Liam agreed, cringing internally and mentally preparing himself for the dressing down he was sure to be about to receive. He followed Tink over to the booth she'd indicated and sat.

Before she was even fully seated across from him, he began his explanation. "Now, I don't know what all you overheard last night, but-"

"As I'm sure you've guessed," Tink interrupted, "Emma told me about your little scheme. I understand - really I do. I've an overbearing aunt of my own who's constantly asking when I'll settle down with some nice man. But you see…" she hesitated, suddenly seeming less confident. "Well, you can imagine my surprise when I heard Emma introduce herself as your girlfriend last night because I rather thought," she paused again, looking up at him shyly through her lashes. "To be honest, I'd thought that you and I had been dating for the past few weeks."

Liam started upright, blinking rapidly. "You - you did?"

"You meet me here nearly every day for lunch. I'm all for believing in serendipity, Liam, but by this point you must have my work schedule memorized." She shook her head bemusedly. "I just assumed we had sort of a standing lunch date."

"And then this -" he gestured between them, unable to believe what he was hearing. "This is something you're okay with? Dating me, I mean?"

Tink laughed lightly, her face breaking into an indulgent smile. "Yes, you silly man. Our lunches are always the highlight of my day. I thought you knew?" She slid her hands toward him across the table, ducking her head to look up at him with a coy little crinkle of her nose. "I've a bit of a crush on you."

Liam couldn't have stopped the smile splitting his face if he'd tried. All thoughts and worries about his brother and Emma fell away as he looked into the sprightly eyes of the woman in front of him. It had never occurred to him, he'd never dared to hope, but here right in front of him was a beautiful, beguiling lass not only saying that she fancied him, but that she thought they were already seeing each other. Suddenly, 'moving on' seemed like the best bloody idea anyone had ever had.

He reached out and took her hand, savoring the delicacy of her fair fingers amidst his calloused ones. Taking a page from his little brother's playbook, he raised her hand to his lips and felt her shiver as he breathed her name reverently against her knuckles. "I would be honored to escort you on a proper date anytime you wish, love," he replied, lowering her hand, but not releasing it.

Before she could answer, Granny's voice rang out letting them know that Tink's order was ready to pick up. They stood, never taking their eyes off one another. Each reaching for the other's hand as soon as they were clear of the booth.

"I'll hold you to that," Tink said with a mischievous grin, then placed her free hand on his chest right above his hammering heart, and raised up on her tiptoes to press a gentle, leisurely and absolutely earth-shattering kiss to his lips. Leaving him standing there stupidly staring after her, Tink turned and moved to the counter to pick up her food then finally exited the diner with a greasy paper sack in hand and a twinkling smile at Liam.

Punch drunk, Liam staggered back into his seat at the booth, swiping his thumb across his lower lip where he could still feel the brand of Tink's kiss. He suddenly didn't feel hungry at all anymore, at least not for food. The hell with lunch, and the hell with the hardware store. He needed to go straight back to the harbour to get the mess there well sorted, so he could get home and speak to Killian as soon as possible.

Killian stormed back to the apartment and began tossing his belongings back into his suitcase. He considered simply leaving without saying goodbye. Liam's dalliance was none of his affair (he huffed a sardonic laugh at the word choice), but he would not stand by and condone it either. He couldn't believe his brother would be so shameless as to kiss another woman right in the middle of a public dining establishment in front of God and everyone. If Killian was able to simply happen by and see the two of them through the front window of Granny's then anyone could have. Emma could have .

Killian didn't want to even look at Liam right now. How on earth could he face Emma? He couldn't lie to her, didn't want to, not even for his brother. Especially not for him.

Killian absolutely could not understand it. As much as he didn't want to hear Liam's excuses, he needed his brother to explain himself. This was the man who had taken care of him when they'd lost their mother. Who had gone out and provided for the family when their father turned to drink and gambling, eventually disappearing entirely. Who had taught Killian right from wrong, constantly reminding him that he wasn'tcursed to be like their father when Killian strayed from the straight and narrow path time and again.

Liam had always been his hero. A paragon of self-discipline and good form, in stark contrast to Killian's own more tempestuous nature. Cheating? Lying? Those things were so at odds with Liam's character that if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he never would have believed it. For that alone, Killian felt he owed Liam the opportunity to tell his side of things. Perhaps there was some sort of mitigating circumstance? Something to make it make sense.

So, he waited, mindlessly flipping channels and getting angrier by the minute. Only that morning he'd been jealous of his brother, his thoughts consumed with Emma's smile, her laugh, the fire in her eyes. The way she'd curled herself around him, their bodies fitting together as though they'd been built for it. Only a few hours ago, he'd been dreading a long future of watching their happiness, of having her so close and yet just out of reach. Because surely she was the one for Liam. How could his brother - how could anyone - let a woman like that get away. Now, here he sat knowing that Liam had already cocked it up, cast her aside for another. It was unfathomable, and Killian's blood boiled at the very idea.

He heard a key in the door and stood, bracing himself to have it out with his git of a brother. Before the door had even opened properly, he launched into a tirade.

"Have you gone completely mental-"

Killian froze in horror, as the door opened fully to reveal not Liam, but Emma. She halted in the doorway, blinking in wide-eyed surprise before her expression twisted into a bemused scowl.

"Not that I'm aware of. What the hell ?"

The blood drained from Killian's face. He wasn't prepared for this. He cleared his throat, glancing down to admire the carpeting as his hand rubbed at the back of his neck.

"Ah, apologies, Swan. I thought you were -" He shifted his gaze to his luggage where it lay on the floor near his feet. "Nevermind. Actually, I really must be going." He grabbed the handle of his bag and took a step toward the door. "If you'll kindly just…" he gestured with his prosthetic to indicate that he wished her to move aside.

Emma narrowed her eyes, leaning a shoulder against the door jamb to block his escape route. "Really? You actually think I'm just going to let you skulk outta here no questions asked?"

Killian dropped his bag to the floor again and exhaled sharply attempting to cover his roiling emotions with a facade of simple annoyance. "I expect not."

He resumed his seat on the sofa, and - once satisfied that he wasn't about to beat a hasty retreat - Emma closed the door behind herself and joined him. She turned her body fully toward him, draping one arm along the back of the couch, one foot tucked beneath her.

"You wanna tell me what that was about?" she asked, brows raised.

Gods, he didn't want to lie to her, but perhaps he could simply be vague? "Not particularly, no." She opened her mouth to object, but Killian continued. "I suppose one could say, it's a bit of a misunderstanding between Liam and I about something that happened this morning."

Emma blanched, lowering her arm to clasp her hands in her lap. "This morning," she repeated.

Her reaction surprised him and he furrowed his brow, perplexed. "Aye," he replied warily.

Emma sighed, dropping her lovely face into her hand as though embarrassed, which confused him even more until she said, "Oh, god. I know what you're talking about. It's-"

"You do?" He asked in shock, but she looked so fragile in that moment he couldn't stop himself from reaching out to her, taking her hand in his. "Gods, I'm so sorry, Emma."

She looked up at him then, her emerald green eyes searching his. "Killian, no. You have nothing to apologize for. You didn't do anything wrong. This is all my fault."

"You can't possibly blame yourself for this, lass. Liam is responsible for his own actions, incomprehensible as they may be." He ran his thumb tenderly across her knuckles, and her eyes fell to their joined hands as if she'd only just noticed, a curious expression crossing her face.

"Liam is…?" she trailed off, then suddenly her eyes flicked up to meet his, her expression as guarded as he'd ever seen. "Wait, what are you talking about?"

Killian hesitated. If she doesn't know about Liam and Tink then… "What are you talking about?"

Emma sat back, releasing his hand and wrapping her arms around herself protectively. "I…" she paused, rolling her eyes as a lovely flush crept up her neck. "I assumed we were talking about how I practically molested you on the couch last night. I thought maybe you and Liam had gotten into it about that. That maybe some... " she seemed to be searching for the right words, "conclusions were drawn."

So she WAS aware of sleeping in his arms, then. More than that, she seemed to think it a source of guilt for herself. But that's odd, innit? Why would she feel guilty about that unless… Despite himself a slow smile began to spread across his face, which he tried to school into an expression of reassurance.

"Nothing of the sort, love." The familiar epithet came to his lips unbidden, as did the teasing smirk that followed. "And I'd hardly call it molestation."

"Killian. I was wrapped around you like a koala bear on a tree trunk." Her expression conveyed disbelief, but her posture had relaxed slightly.

He chuckled at her turn of phrase. "Aye, that you were. But to molest, implies that something is bothersome." He poked his tongue to the corner of his mouth in thought, and lowered his voice. "So, tell me, Swan: were you bothered by our sleeping arrangement?"

Bloody hell, he was flirting with her again, the emphasis he put on the word 'bothered' practically indecent. Gods, what the devil was wrong with him? This was hardly the time or circumstances, and even under the best of conditions, she wouldn't -

And then her sweet pink tongue darted out to wet her lips, the green of her eyes darkening by a shade. Killian's pulse began to pound in his ears.

"How about you answer my question," she challenged. "If you weren't talking about our 'sleeping arrangements' as you called them, what were you talking about? What did Liam do?"

He dipped his head in consternation, his speeding heart coming to a screeching halt before dropping into his gut.

"You didn't think you could distract me into forgetting, did you?" she asked with a smirk.

Is that what she thinks I was doing? Distracting her? "Emma, I'm not sure if it's my place."

"I want to know. Please."

Killian sighed. Not much use in dancing around it at this point. "I saw Liam this morning at the diner. With Tink."

"Oh?"

"They were…" he gestured vaguely with his hand. "Romantically entangled, one might say."

"Oh. Ohhhhh. " Her breathing became shallow, eyes darting everywhere except to look at him.

He couldn't bear to see her look so panic stricken. He had to say something, anything to comfort her. "Emma, I've looked up to Liam my whole life. I love him more than anything, but if he's too blind to see what an absolute treasure you are, then he's a bloody fool."

Her head snapped up to fix him with a questioning stare. "You think I'm a treasure?"

Gods, this was getting worse by the second. The absolute last thing he intended to do (ever, really) was to bare his heart to her, but her eyes, her voice… She seemed utterly unaware of her worth. Truly, had no one ever told her? "Don't you know how bloody brilliant you are? I can't believe it to be possible for a man to want another lass if he had you."

He meant it. Gods above had he meant it, but as Emma grew deadly still, her face drawn and serious, he wished for nothing more than to be able to snatch the words back from the air. Or, failing that, that the ground would open and swallow him whole.

But then she shifted toward him, reaching up to brush the fringe off his forehead then soothing her palm over his jaw. She was so close he could feel the warmth of her body soaking into him, and he closed his eyes, helpless to do anything but lean into her touch.

"Emma ," he breathed, but the word was stolen by the soft press of her mouth against his. Slow and tentative, but searing straight into his soul until his mind shut down and his body took over.

His fingers wove their way into the soft golden strands at the nape of her neck, gently pulling her closer, tilting her head to deepen the kiss even as her lips parted for him. HIs senses were flooded with her sweet honeyed scent, the sharp tang of coffee on her tongue, the fevered caress of her hand as it glided down his neck to his collarbone, the tingling scratch of her nails as her deft fingers worked their way inside his shirt to rest over his pounding heart.

It was everything - she was everything. Everything he wanted and everything he didn't deserve.

The realization doused him back into his senses, and he pulled away. Her lips chased his, and as much as he wished to be caught, he couldn't allow it.

"That was…" she whispered, eyes opening slowly.

"Something I never should have done," he finished, his voice low and pained. Killian lightly gripped her shoulder and eased her back away from him, before slipping off the couch and gathering his things. He couldn't look at her, not until he was a safe distance away. Far enough that her proximity could no longer intoxicate him into giving into his desires and kissing her until they could neither of them remember their names.

He was nearly to the front door, when her voice stopped him. "Killian, wait! There's something you need -"

"I need to leave," he replied, turning to face her. "I've caused nothing but strife since I arrived here. The fact that Liam betrayed you doesn't excuse me from betraying him. But worst of all, I've taken advantage of you. You were upset and vulnerable and I never should have…" he closed his eyes, shaking his head sadly. "I'm so deeply sorry, Emma." His eyes bored into hers, and he hoped she could see the sincerity of his apology.

Emma opened her mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. Killian didn't blame her. What was there to say? He turned away again, murmuring a "Goodbye, Swan," over his shoulder as he opened the door and exited the apartment.

Holy shit. Holy Shit. HOLY SHIT!

Emma sat there on the couch dumbstruck, unmoving except for the way her fingers kept tracing her lips over and over again. WHAT THE HELL DID I JUST DO?

This was bad. This was really, really, really bad. Not the kiss itself. That was inarguably the best kiss of her life. Which was exactly why THIS WAS BAD.

Oh, God. She should've run after him. Should've told him the truth and let him be angry with her for the right reasons, not at himself for all the wrong ones. Was it too late for that? How long had she been sitting there like an idiot?

Emma ran to the window just in time to see a slick black vintage mustang pull away from the curb. She would've known the car was Killian's even if she hadn't seen his face through the windshield. It was the vehicular embodiment of his black leather jacket. Not the point. The point was that she had made a catastrophic error and needed to fix it immediately. She walked mindlessly over to the couch and sank back down. Okay, so what now?

She needed to think. But how was she supposed to do that when she could still feel the phantom brush of his lips? How did this happen?

She had been so sure he'd figured it out. He was leaving. He was upset with Liam about something from that morning. She was so sure that she'd made such a fool of herself all hugged up with him on this very couch that he'd either a) realized that her 'relationship' with Liam was all a hoax or b) had told Liam about it forcing Liam to pretend to be angry to keep up the act.

But then he'd started apologizing which got her all confused, and then NOPE. No, Liam had made a move on Tink (which, you know - fucking finally! ), but at the worst possible time. And then she'd started panicking because how the hell was she supposed to play THAT out?

And then - THEN Killian was looking at her like she hung the stars and telling her she was a treasure and brilliant and… And no one had ever talked to her like that before. To her, about her, whatever. No one. Not even the evil ex of whom she never speaks, who had taken her love, her innocence, and (if not for a very kindhearted juvie court judge) very nearly her freedom.

And the thing is… Killian had meant it. What he said. She knew without a doubt that he meant every word. So, she'd kissed him. And it was perfect. Exactly everything she never knew she always wanted a kiss to be.

Until it wasn't. Until he stopped. Until she froze like a statue and let him walk away thinking that he'd done something wrong.

Which led her right back to where she'd started: she needed to fix this, but she didn't think she could do that on her own. She dug in her purse and pulled out her cell phone, tapping on Liam's number in her contact list. A couple of rings and he picked up.

"Swan! Good. I need to-"

"We fucked up," Emma interrupted.

"Straight to the chase then. Alright. How did we fuck up?"

"Killian saw you with Tink," she answered, "Which, by the way, it's about damn time, but still. A problem."

She heard Liam's sharp exhale over the line. " Bollocks. Okay, so that's how I fucked up. You said we. What did you do then?"

Emma answered as matter-of-factly as she could. "I kissed Killian."

"I KNEW IT!"

"Liam."

"I knew you fancied my little brother!"

"Liam, this is not helping."

"It's mutual, too, by the way. I saw how you were looking at each other."

Emma grimaced (not that he could see it) and tightened her grip on the phone until her knuckles turned white. "Liam, could you please stop being a teenage girl for five minutes. What are we gonna do about this? He thinks that you cheated on me, and that I cheated on you with him , and that he took advantage of me when I was upset about your cheating and then he just LEFT!"

Liam sighed. "And he's probably in some kind of self-loathing, brooding snit right about now. You're right, Emma. We have thoroughly and utterly fucked up."

Emma relaxed her grip on the phone and set her shoulders with grim determination. "So what are we gonna do about it?"

"We owe him a good groveling. A phone call just won't cut it. Swan, we need to get our sorry arses to Boston."