The week had passed at what had seemed like a snail's pace. Liam and the band spent most of it in rehearsals with the older Jones brother taking time to write instead of sleep. Elsa and Anna were rerecording a few of the tracks, trying to capture just the right sound for their debut. While it was a little out of her normal line of scouting, Emma had taken both groups under her wing and was trying her best to package them just right. When she arrived at Granny's just after the lunch rush on Thursday, she was rubbing her neck again from having spent the night on her couch.

Killian had taken Henry's hint that he would be out to dinner with his dad on Wednesday to heart, showing up a few minutes after Henry had left. Grinning wickedly, as Emma described that way he would look like he wanted her to seduce him and praise him all at the same time, he had arrived with a DVD of George Carlin greatest comedy hits, a bottle of wine, and a menu for Chinese delivery. She had planned a quiet evening listening to the sisters' latest tracks, but instead curled up with him and laughed until she could barely breathe. More than once they lost track of the jokes as they found themselves kissing and exploring more than they had before. She would say it made her feel like a teenager, but that wasn't really accurate in her case. She was going to have to search for a cleaning solution that would get soy sauce out of her rug, but otherwise the night had been great. So great that she was comfortably asleep next to him when Henry got home. At least she assumed he had gotten home because when she woke up the next morning, Henry was already up and getting ready for school.

The lunch crowd of miners from the local site and a few shop owners had dissipated, but still Emma chose a seat at the counter. It was her usual thing, as it took away the obviousness of dining alone and did not encourage visitors. The time also meant that she wouldn't have to listen to advice on dating from Granny.

Granny might come off as a foreboding woman with a heart of gold, but she was also an avid fan of her daily soap operas. A person coming in on a weekday for a late lunch often had to compete for her attention with the latest woes on her favorite daytime drama couples. When Ruby mentioned that people had noticed her lack of detailed attention at such moments, the widow told her granddaughter that those people on television were her family too. She had mourned their losses, celebrated all their triumphs, and sat on the edge of her seat since long before she had gray hair.

So Emma didn't take it personally when she had to remind the server twice to put more cinnamon in her hot cocoa, as Granny was not paying attention to get it right. When Emma was first starting out in Storybrooke, she had hidden out with the older woman and watched the shows herself instead of facing the dread of fitting into a new town.

"I thought the Mills sisters must pay you better than eating at this dump," David said when he took the stool beside her. He gave his order quickly, not deviating from the standard lasagna plate and a glass of half fruit punch and half soda that was his signature. Giving the server a wink that he said ensured a lack of spitting in his food, he turned his attention back to Emma and grabbed an onion ring off her plate. "Must be hiding out to come here."

She grinned wryly at the idea. "You can't hide in the one place in town where everyone and their brother ends up at some point in the day. A decent cop would know that."

"I was thinking about that phrase hiding in plain sight."

Drawing in a long sip of the chocolate, she waited patiently. When he had not spoken by the time her hands lowered the mug to the table, she rolled her eyes. "So you going to tell me why you parked yourself here? I know your schedule. You eat lunch at 12:15. Hot case or are you avoiding someone?"

"I was planning to skip lunch today," he admitted, wiggling out of the worn leather jacket he wore over his soft plaid shirt and gun holster. "But I saw your car out front."

"Should I feel honored by that or are you here over my unpaid parking tickets?" She had known and been friends with David since around the same time as Mary Margaret. She'd watched the two of them fight their attraction for years before settling into what she and Ruby often called a state of boring non-marital doldrums that most didn't hit until their seventh anniversary. But he was more than just her friend's significant other. He was there for her when she had made tough decisions regarding Neal, even driving her home after a drunken bender threatened her sanity and her self-imposed boundaries from her ex. When she needed a male influence for Henry, David was the man she called despite Neal.

"I need some advice," he said, closing his eyes at the idea that he was actually asking that question. "And I know that she comes to you for it all the time lately so I thought…"

When he reached for another of the onion rings, she pushed her plate away from him. "You two asking for dating advice from me is pretty desperate. What is it you called me? The queen of the one night stands?"

Balling his right hand into a fist, he laughed behind it. "Rumor was that you were faster at putting on your clothes than taking them off."

Her maneuver to keep him out of her onion rings did not appear to be working, making her make a near karate chop to stop his swiping motion. "And yet you want my advice about Mary Margaret?"

"I hear you have taken over a new leaf."

"One dinner with you guys and a successful date and I'm ready to give advice. I'm not sure that I'm qualified. In fact it's kind of sad that I'm your best bet for that at the moment."

"I asked for advice not commentary." He pounded the edge of his fist on his forehead. "I screwed up."

Sighing, Emma stirred the rest of the whipped cream into the drink, letting it melt into the darkness. "You're going to have to be more specific. I can think of a lot of things that might be you screwing up." She tried to get him to smile, digging her elbow into his side. He merely flinched. "What did you do?"

"She wants me to propose, doesn't she?"

Emma felt that twinge inside as she realized he was asking her to betray a friend's confidence. Mary Margaret wanted to be married, wanted David and the life they could have together. But she wanted it on their terms. She had cried to Emma the other night that she didn't want him to feel pressured into proposing. And maybe she wasn't sure that would ever fully understand her friend's point of view, it was her decision and hope. Mary Margaret wanted fairy tales and love that songs were written about, not practical decisions about living together because a lease was up at one of their places. But was it Emma's place to tell David that? He was her friend too. "She wants you to be the one," she said as solidly as she could. "She wants you to be her Prince Charming."

"Tall order," he said with a laugh, "and vague."

"I think the question is do you want to propose." She didn't miss his long breath in or the way he sucked his bottom lip inside his mouth. "Because as much as Mary Margaret wants her happily ever after to include you, you do matter in all this."

"I want to spend the rest of my life with her," he said, hoping that clarified things a bit. "I…she…She's always been that for me. She's always waited for me to get settled. For me to get out from my father's rules. She even put up with me for that brief time I dated Katheryn. She deserves…She deserves so much more than I have done. And I want this to be perfect. I want her to have exactly what she wants. She wants a fairy tale."

"That can be a tall order, but I think you're putting too much pressure on yourself. She wants you. She wants to know that you love her like she loves you."

He sighed, raking a hand through his short hair. "I should just ask her. Is that what you're saying?"

"You did come to me for advice and I warned you that I'm not an authority on this. I haven't ever had a relationship that didn't end in restraining orders, bad feelings, or me in jail." She laughed wryly at herself. "See why I've always stuck with one night stands?"

"I don't get the feeling that Killian is a one night stand," David said. "And you're probably going to throw that plate at me for saying it, but happiness looks good on you, Emma. If he's the reason for it, I say good for you both."

***AAA***

"You're coming in a bit early in that part there, Avery," Killian told the trombone player. "You have a full four counts before you play your first note."

Henry gave his friend a sympathetic smile as the young boy reddened at being called out. It was not as bad as it could have been, as Killian rarely made too much of a scene with the students. He merely gave instructions and gentle reminders before moving on to the next issue. When Emma had asked him how he had the patience to teach students, listen to the same seven notes for months on end, and try to be heard over the drama in their preteen lives, he had told her he took things a step at a time. One might see or hear 100 mistakes in a simple piece of music being played by a child, but his job was to break it down into manageable bits. He would point out one or two and work on those until perfected, moving on to the next one the next day.

It seemed that he had done things that way since the accident, broken things down so as not to be overwhelmed. Looking back, he realized it was a nurse who had suggested such a technique that now seemed to be the cornerstone of his philosophy. Maybe that was why he was feeling such an emotional rush when it came to Emma. He told himself time and again to take things slowly, not scare her or himself in the process, but it hadn't worked. Each time he saw her he felt every nerve ending telling him that he had to hold her, to show her just how much she was wanted and cherished. And despite the voice in his head that told him it was too soon, he was sure that he was falling in love with her each time she smiled at him or any time her slight hand touched him.

"Mr. Jones?" one of the flute students called to him, breaking through his latest thoughts. "When are we going to move on to the next song?"

"Do you think you and your classmates are ready?" he asked. "It's a more challenging piece. You'll have to jump right in and give it your all."

The class struggled through the first eighth of the music, producing barely recognizable notes as Killian tried to guide and shape their efforts. It was going to be a challenge, he thought to himself, but they still had a few weeks before the end of the year recital would begin. He dismissed them just as the bell sounded and went ahead with the ensemble practice, which went even worse. He wasn't sure whose time they were keeping but each of the students seemed to have his or her own beat.

By the time Henry arrived, he was raking his hand over his face and staring up toward the ceiling. Silently Henry placed his mouth piece in his trumpet and took the seat next to Killian. "We don't have to do this," he said. "It looks like you've had a rough day."

"Just a long one, a lad," Killian said, practicing breathing as a way to wash out the feeling that this career was not at all worth fighting for in the scheme of things. "Let's get to work on this audition piece."

Henry didn't immediately reach for his notebook, watching his teacher carefully. "You know it's okay, right? I didn't tell my dad that you spent the night or anything. I know he's been kind of funny about you and my mom spending time together."

Killian truly thought he might choke on the air he was breathing in at that moment and sputtered like a man drowning. "I fell asleep, Henry. I didn't intend to spend the night…"

"No, it's okay. I get it. And believe me, my dad has done worse. One time, he had his girlfriend sneak in through the bathroom window. She fell in the bathtub and he told me it was dog upstairs. He is a terrible liar. I just meant if you're stressed about it, don't worry. I can keep a secret."

The boy's earnest brown eyes gazed upward at his teacher, showing flecks of hope and helpfulness with his downward sweep of his thick dark lashes. Killian sighed, knowing that Emma wanted her son to be unscathed by any relationship that blossomed for her. He could not ask the boy to lie for him. "I won't ask you to lie for me, Henry. I'm sure that your father is simply concerned that your mother and I are not behaving appropriately in front of you."

The young boy's aghast expression made him look very much like his mother. "It was a nap. You didn't do anything like kiss." He whispered the last word.

"Henry, I truly did not mean to be there when you returned. I suppose it was a long day for all involved and we simply fell asleep." The simplicity of the moment was not lost on him, as he had felt a combination of serenity at the quiet time and honor that she trusted him enough to fall into slumber in his arms there on the couch. "I appreciate that you aren't scarred by our being interested in one another, but don't feel that you should have to lie to your father or even take sides in this matter. Your mother and I will deal with such things."

Looking disappointed, Henry lifted the trumpet again and changed the topic of conversation. "Do you really think I have a chance?"

"Aye," Killian said with a sincere smile. "I would imagine you have not had many chances to audition before. It can be a bit nerve wracking."

"What if I forget my music or how to play all the notes?" Henry asked, looking a bit panicked at the thought. "What if the judge asks me my name and I forget it?"

Frown lines marred Killian's brow as he considered this worry from his student. Holding his hand up to request Henry's patience, Killian walked to the door and peered into the almost deserted hallway. The teacher just down from him was in front of her bulletin board and hanging up the latest decorations and posters for the spring musical that some of the older students put on each year. He beckoned to her and explained his idea rather quickly.

"Henry please go sit in my office for a moment," he instructed, pulling the blinds over the window from his office into the classroom. "Your audition will begin here in a moment."

Without question, Henry scooted into the office with his belongings and sat in the one chair that wasn't at the desk. He had spent only a little time in the office itself, as Killian was usually more at ease in the classroom. There was a sturdy desk and computer there along with a bookshelf and file cabinet. Unlike many of his teachers, there were few accessories or coffee mugs proclaiming allegiance to one school or another. A framed photograph of him with his brother both in uniform sat next to some books on musical theory and another of what looked to be the two of them at a younger age with a woman with similar eyes and a smile.

He could hear Killian speaking to someone with a much softer voice and wondered who it was on the other side of the door. His palms felt sweaty and he wiped them on the cotton pants that were part of his uniform. The fear that he felt over this endeavor seemed to bit and claw at his insecurity. Through the nerves, he looked for the familiar in the small space of the office and found himself staring at the printed pages on Killian's desk. There was a review for some restaurant in Boston and a few handwritten post-its with the names of different clubs and places to go. He seemed to have punctuated each with a question mark.

"Henry," Killian said, slipping into the room by opening the door in the smallest way. "You can enter now. Your pre-audition is all set."

He knew that was what was being set up, but still he felt his stomach churn with the information. "Mr. Jones…I…"

"You'll do quite well," Killian said, sitting in his faux leather chair. "I'll be here to hear all about it when you finish. Remember to breathe in during those specific rest spots we discussed. Here is your accompanying music."

"What!?" Henry asked with terror coursing through his veins. "I have to go in there?"

Killian bit she inside of his mouth to keep from laughing. "Aye, it will make it easier to audition if you do so in the room. I don't think the judge will be able to fit inside here along with the piano." One of the older students from Mrs. Ursula's class was going to act as the accompanist, having done it in past years. "You're on, Henry."

Two red spots dotted his cheeks as he grabbed both the sheet music and trumpet in the same hand, crumpling the paper slightly. He readjusted them so that they were in opposite hands and then switched them again before he trudged through the door and stared into the chocolate brown eyes of the other music teacher. The woman was a solid looking woman with russet colored skin and a mane of hair that seemed to fall in perfectly symmetrical waves. Henry had never had classes with her, as she taught in the upper school, but everyone knew she had a voice like an angel and sang at many of the assemblies and such.

She gave him a tight smile, sighing as she looked down at what appeared to be a blank clipboard. "Could you please state your name for me and tell me which selection you'll be playing today?" she asked almost robotically. He froze for a moment, then gave her that information before heading over to where a music stand was set up near the piano.

From the office and with the door just pushed to instead of closed, Killian could hear him. He could detect the shakiness in his voice and knew that his grip was probably so tight on the instrument that he might leave marks on his palm. But when Henry began to play, Killian could not have been more proud. The boy's musicality and timing was perfect. There were two notable mistakes, but overall it did not mar his performance in the least. It wasn't until after the last note had faded that Killian could not resist any longer and peeked through the window where the blind didn't meet the edge. Henry was still shaking like a leaf, but the tilt of his chin indicated he was reveling in the praise that Ms. Ursula dished out for him, knowing that it was rare for her to do so.

When Emma arrived about 25 minutes later, he was pleased that Henry still wore the glow of success. Her pride in her son was evident as he whirled himself around toward her and told her in detail of the experiment. She placed both her hands on either side of Henry's face and kissed his forehead, not having to stoop as far as she used to have to do. "I couldn't be happier for you," she said, squeezing his cheeks in playfully until he pulled away. "You've worked really hard. Whatever happens in the real audition, I know you are the best already, kid."

***AAA***

Elsa was plopped awkwardly on the couch as Liam dragged her legs over his thighs and laid in the opposite direction. One of her feet hung in midair and moved with the incessant beat of the music his phone was playing. "Well?" she asked, her tone tight for a person who looked as relaxed as she did right then. "What do you think?"

"Honestly?" he asked, quirking up an eyebrow at the absurdity of the question. "I'm afraid I don't hear the difference."

She frowned deeply, one arm reaching out to swipe the phone from him. "You really don't know the difference?"

"Darling, I'm sure there is some little nuance that I'm not privy to or picking up on at the moment. But for the life of me I don't know what it is." The week had been filled with the two sisters rerecording several of the songs they wanted to release and auditioning bands to back them up on the live dates they had scheduled. So far he had not heard much of a difference in these groups, which apparently was the wrong answer for the blonde there beside him.

Robin was sitting at a small sized keyboard that had caused Liam to tease him ceaselessly that it was something out of a teen girl's room from the 1980s. He played a few notes and frowned. "This is quite interesting, but shouldn't we be working on our own stuff. I know picking a band is a big deal, but so is getting on stage and performing after years of just fooling around."

Elsa looked embarrassed as she scrambled up. "I'm sorry," she said, pulling her phone back. "I didn't think of it that way."

"Elsa, my mate here was just showing some nerves. Don't take it personally. I rather like listening to your work." Liam winked at her before sitting up straight himself. "And I don't know what kind of work he's planning when half the group isn't here yet."

"Still, it is pretty selfish of me to ignore that you have work to do too." She was reaching for her bag when Robin cleared his throat.

"There was no harm meant in what I said. I was only worried that perhaps Liam wasn't remembering we are not nearly as prepared as we should be at this point. You and your sister will surely be brilliant, but we're probably about to crash and burn up there on that stage."

Smiling affectionately at Elsa, he cupped her cheek. "You're always brilliant."

"You guys will be too," she said, blushing deeper over the compliment. "I can't wait to hear what you perform."

"I can't wait for us to figure that out," Robin groused. "I think every suggestion that Liam makes is met with a resounding no, as are mine."

The three of them were tossing out names of songs and trying to discern the familiarity of each when Killian arrived. Liam had to jump up and practically dislodge Elsa from the seat next to him as his brother struggled a bit to open the door what with his one hand and opposite arm full of a stack of empty boxes.

"Planning on moving?" Robin asked when he took in the sight.

"You might covet this little house, mate, but I'm not ready to give it up yet. No, I came to a realization today." He dropped the boxes just to the side of the office door. "I think it is time I changed over that office to a proper bedroom."

Liam looked at the boxes curiously and back at the partially closed door to the room that his brother used as a retreat. "Planning on a roommate are you, brother? Or perhaps you're moving Emma and her lad in here? Might get a bit crowded what with me on the couch."

While she knew Emma would never move that fast, Elsa played along to tease Liam about his insecurity over sleeping on the couch for so long. "Maybe you and Henry could get bunk beds and share the room."

"That's a fine idea," Robin chimed in. "Roland wants a set himself, though he's not got any siblings. I might have an ad around someplace with a set on sale."

Killian kicked one of the boxes with the toe of his boot. "I was going to clear the room out for you, brother. I can move a few of the items into my room and we can rearrange a few out here. I just thought it might be high time to get your hairy arse off my couch and behind closed doors. It would do wonders for me not to have to see you snoring and drooling every morning."

Liam smiled widely, elbowing Robin right in the ribs. "I'm touched, Killian. You want us to be roommates now?"

Killian looked to be chewing that information over in his mouth as he looked upward. "I wouldn't read too much into it. You haven't made much of an effort to find another place to live so I thought we might as well make this a bit more homey. First step is to pack up some stuff and rearrange or store it. I've got a plan for a bed already. So what do you say, roomie?"

***AAA***

Emma folded the sweater twice before placing it in her overnight bag, ignoring the prattling on of Ruby in her ear from the phone that she had set to its hands-free speaker. It was a work trip. That was all, she told herself as she tried to remember if she had in fact shaved and waxed everything she had wanted to do that week. Deciding that she had, she dove for the phone when Ruby began a familiar yet embarrassing discussion about condom brands.

"I know how they work," Emma hissed into the phone after taking it off speaker. "And you were on speaker. Henry could have heard you."

"Henry is exactly why we are having a conversation about them. If you knew how they worked, you wouldn't have Henry. I'm just making sure…"

Ruby was partially right. Emma had known what condoms were and how they worked, but she hadn't insisted when she and Neal were younger. She could handle that conversation now. "It's under control."

The raven haired beauty's smirk was audible through the phone. "You're nervous."

"No, I'm not," Emma protested loudly. "I'm fine."

"How long has it been? Walsh? Ewww…I don't want to think about him. August?"

"I didn't sleep with Walsh or August. August is just a friend. A date for industry events that shows up every few months with the idea for a best seller. We haven't ever really…"

Laughing, Ruby practically snorted. "Okay, okay. So you're not friends with benefits." She seemed to be going through some checklist. "And you did wax, right? I don't want to hear any excuses when you get back. But if it's been that long maybe I should ask if you dusted or swept out the cobwebs."

"Ruby Lucas, I'm about to hang up this phone. I have had sex. Plenty of sex." She realized she probably said that too vehemently and too loud since her son was due home any moment, but she tried to keep her calm. "It's not like I don't know what I'm doing."

"Really? So what are you doing with Killian? Because I can't quite figure it out."

"Neither can I," Emma admitted when she stared at her lingerie drawer. Normally this was easy, as she slept in oversized shirts or flannels when it got too cold. It hadn't even been decided who was sleeping with whom in their small army of people attending. Will and Anastasia had already called dibs on a room together, as had Anna and Kristoff. Robin apparently talked in his sleep and snored, meaning nobody wanted to room with him. The new guitarist, Philip, had said he planned to bring along his wife. If they were in middle school the rooming arrangements would be easy, as Emma and Elsa would share as would the two Jones brothers. However, that seemed to be the question hanging in the air. "I admit it. I have no idea what I'm doing."

"Just go slow," Ruby cautioned. "And enjoy yourself. There's this website I should send you. Talks about…"

"No, Ruby," Emma insisted. "I'm not researching this."

Taking the hint, the waitress/designer changed the subject to their mutual friend, Mary Margaret. "You have to swear to keep this a secret," Ruby said in a stage whisper that was probably overheard by anyone within 20 feet of her if not more. "David asked me to design her a dress."

Emma stared distractedly at the matching bra and panties she had pulled from her dresser that sat alongside an oversized t-shirt celebrating miners' day in Storybrooke. It was faded and the logo of a giant pick axe was starting to peel, but she loved it for those late nights under six blankets and a good book. "A dress?" she asked, throwing both sets into her overnight bag before she changed her mind on either. "For what?"

"He said he wanted something that will make her feel like a fairy tale princess." Ruby's voice was a little higher pitched as she nearly squealed. "I'm going to love making this."