I'm going to apologize for the sporadic updates. Between a computer failure and having to buy a new one, job searching, and possibly moving across the country, I haven't been very faithful in my writing. However, here is a new chapter. There is some angst coming, but for now just a happy date chapter.

Thanks again to all the readers for their patience and understanding.

She was going to blame the wine, definitely the wine that had been sweeter and tangier than any she had before. That was the reason that she was in the middle of the dance floor of a tourist trap of a cruise ship being twirled around under fake electric stars and giggling as though she 14 and talking to a boy for the first time in her life. The wine, red and delicious was the reason that she had left her shoes under the table they shared and reason that he had lip gloss staining his shirt collar from their earlier slow dance. It was also the reason that her cheeks were a merry shade of pink.

Emma Swan was not going to take responsibility for her behavior, she decided as he spun her out and back to him again. Their chests crashed against each other and she breathlessly stared up at him. "You must be pretty proud of yourself."

"For what reason?" he asked, curiosity unhidden as he gasped for breath too. "My dancing? I've been told I'm rather a fine dancer."

"Making me act like a fool," she corrected, one hand gripping his and the other on his shoulder so that her fingers mingled with the hair ending at the nape of his neck. "I don't usually do this."

He wasn't sarcastic as he lowered his head to rest it against hers. "I know. And I'm not sure why it is that you allow it with me, but I am honored and grateful."

The music was still bright and loud, a melding of jazz and latin that neither of them could particularly name. Couples were doing their best salsa and samba moves around them, but in that moment they were swaying. Their feet were planted in place, rooted to the smooth wood flooring as they moved. "I think you say that stuff so I'll like you."

"Is it working?"

Humming a bit, she let her hand that was entwined with his be dragged around to the small of her back. She thought he was about to start up the acrobatics again, but he kept their hands there in a sort of embrace and ignored the more pulsing beat. "I'm still here, aren't I?"

"Aye, you are, but it might be a bit difficult for you to escape on a ship out in the harbor. That may have been part of my plan to keep you from running away."

Her eyes fluttered shut as he continued to hold her, his breath just as warm on her skin as the heat of the lights above them. She knew that she could pull back and see him looking at her with his eyes darkened and a more open expression on his face than she could even fathom. But for that moment she wanted to pretend that things weren't moving at a speed way too fast or that it could all go sideways and leave her more broken than she had ever been in her life. "I'm not running," she told him in a small voice. Lifting one bare foot and running it along his calf, she gave him sort of a half chortle and sigh. "I wouldn't get very far."

"Good," he responded, his voice muffled by her long hair. "I was just thinking how difficult it would be for me to chase after you after that meal. I'm surprised we're still dancing."

Looking up at him through her thick long lashes, she felt the room spin a bit. She decided to blame that on the wine too. "I don't know that I'd call this dancing. It's more like swaying. Kind of like what I did when I was in school and there were dances in the gym or the lunch room."

He managed not to laugh too loudly, picturing her at that age conjuring up rather fun images in his mind. She had told him that money was not something she really had in her teen years, still moving from foster home to foster home. Before she had left for good and ended up meeting Neal, she had been to a few school functions if only to check of that spot on the forms that spoke of her social life. "I would have enjoyed dancing with you then too," he said, noting the surprised look on her face.

"I was more about sneaking off to smoke and not inhale things. I wasn't much for dancing."

Running his tongue over his lips, he considered this. "Then I would have enjoyed finding a dark corner with you. Shall we try that now?"

"You want to find a dark corner?" she asked incredulously. When his gaze didn't drop she squeezed his hand still behind her. "Why would we do that when we have a hotel room?" She wrinkled her nose and took a fraction of a step back from him. "Did I just say that?"

"I believe you did," he teased gently. "Should I pretend I didn't hear it? I wouldn't want you to combust from embarrassment."

That earned him an eye roll. "One of us had to mention it. We're sharing a room. There's one bed."

"Valid points," he commented, nodding thoughtfully. "We have no excuse really. If there is just one bed, we obviously have to use it." He said it so logically and practically that she couldn't help but laugh at his earnest assessment. "There might even be a law or something about it. We wouldn't want to get in trouble."

"Dork," she seethed under her breath. "So are you telling me that you aren't sort of thinking about this too?"

"I won't lie and say that the thought hasn't crossed my mind, but a thought is not an expectation, love." He looked at her a bit more tenderly than the way the conversation demanded, softly taking in the slope of her nose and the way that she expelled a bit of breath through her mouth before tightening her lips and attempting to smile. He liked the way she was not able to completely mask what she felt, giving him insight into her thoughts and fears.

The music slowed a bit, rolling through the air much like the waves under them. They took a cue from it and moved together closer, deliberately elongating their movements. "I should warn you…"

"Love, few sentences end happily after starting like that. But I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that nothing you say will scare me away at this point. I've met your son. I've met your ex. I've seen you at your most competitive and know your horrible tastes in music and movies. So unless you have a deep dark secret that needs revealing…"

She laughed, her hand coming up to the side of his face. "Not exactly a confession. It's just that I thought I should warn you that my instinct toward running is usually higher after…you know…"

Chuckling, he lowered his lips to the tip of her nose and then forehead. "That's quite a vote of confidence there, Swan. Perhaps if you are inclined to run away then we aren't quite on the same page after all."

Her head leaned backward, neck craning uncomfortably. "I've ruined things? I knew I shouldn't bring it up. It's just that Ruby made me think and…"

"Nothing is ruined."

***AAA***

Liam's uninhibited laugh was quickly becoming Elsa's favorite sound, especially when she can feel it bubbling up in his chest as she curled up against him in the tight theater seats. They had discussed which type of movie might be best, his own tastes quite different than hers. However, the low brow comedy they chose seemed just the thing. It required little concentration and thinking, which suited her as she let her focus turn to him.

She should not be afraid of him, she had told herself on more than one occasion. He was hardly a scary man, though she had no doubt that he was quite tough when it came down to it. He was charming and sweet, a combination that went well with his natural good looks. There was something always stirring in his mind, another fact that she loved. And he looked at her with a gentle interest that was hard to find anything but flattering.

However, she still struggled to actually let herself believe that he might be interested in her as more than just someone to waste time with before the right one came along. It was hard to struggle between guilt and fear when you felt yourself falling for someone, but that was clearly where Elsa was at. She felt it each time he complimented her or said something so sweet that she wanted to melt. Like instinct, she would brush off his statements with jokes or sarcastic ones of her own. It wasn't that she wanted to do it.

As the woman on screen made a face that Lucille Ball would have appreciated, Elsa turned a bit in her seat. "This is really nice," she said, hoping that he wouldn't be startled by her admission. It wasn't much on the surface, but she could see that he understood the deeper side to it when his grin grew wider.

"It is," he echoed. "I think, perhaps, when we get back to Storybrooke, we should make an effort to go out more places. While I like spending a cozy evening with you, this is a fantastic treat."

It would have been easy to have said something about him probably wanting to keep her hidden, but she bit the inside of her mouth and remained silent. He seemed to appreciate that and wrapped his arm around her tighter and again laughed at the antics on screen. He spent most of the rest of the movie in that position, only taking his eyes from the screen to look at her in a quiet moment before kissing her soundly.

After the movie was over, they found themselves sharing overpriced and heavily whipped coffee drinks in a café that seemed to be a combination of bookstore and someone's living room. There are no booths or tables, leaving them to sip companionably on a love seat that might have spent the previous 10 years in a garage before finding its way to the café. It was an orange sort of crushed velvet that had long since become worn and no longer a soft as it should have been. His arm was over the back of the love seat and his right hand held the mug that did not match Elsa's in the slightest. A plate of biscotti, cookies, and other treats rested on his knee with perfect balance. She was holding her mug with both hands, blowing over the steaming contents.

"I like this song," she said, gesturing her chin toward the lone guitar player on what constituted a stage in the small room. "I've heard better covers of it, but it's still a good song."

"Aye. Do you ever imagine a day when there will be some talentless bloke covering one of your songs in a coffee house?" The guitarist struggled with the song a bit, going off tune for a few measures before pulling himself back into the music. Liam tried not to cringe outwardly.

"I think I'm too focused on people hearing me sing my songs. The idea that anyone would want to emulate me is pretty foreign. What about you? I don't think I've ever heard you mention the plans for your band. Are you hoping to do more than a few weekend gigs and gather a few groupies?"

Placing the mug next to him, Liam readjusted the plate and offered her one of the cashew and caramel bites that the barista had insisted were the best. "I'm afraid I'm a bit too old to be thinking of legions of fans and touring the world being one party after another. I would rather concentrate on the music and hope that people will hear it and like what they hear. Maybe then I'll get bored of it and find another day job."

It was a standard answer of many musicians and artists that Elsa could easily recognize. Few who truly loved their given medium were drawn in by the allure of fame and fortune. It seemed enough and even too much at times to consider making a living at something that was so much a love and passion for them. "It is hard to imagine though," she said almost as if talking to herself. "I don't know that I'll ever feel secure enough in music that I won't worry about the instability of it as a career."

"Someone as talented as you are shouldn't be worried about anything about when their big break is going to happen," Liam said, again holding his mug and taking a long sip from it. "I'm going to eat my hat if you don't make it big and forget about all of us in Storybrooke. We'll be watching those bloody entertainment shows and seeing you rush past the paparazzi with giant sunglasses and a few beefy security guards flanking you."

While he appreciated Elsa's honesty and determination, he had to admit it was hard to tell when she was joking or being sarcastic. So when she slapped his chest and looked a bit pouty, he had to dissect her words carefully. "First," she said as though she was teaching a lesson, "you aren't wearing a hat. And second, I'll always have time for people I care about."

One side of his mouth rose and then the other, his head tilting toward hers. "Dare I hope that means I make that list? People you care about."

For a moment she looked embarrassed to have said it, making her feel as though she had just put some invisible pressure on him to say something similar. It was something that all the magazines and articles warned about, a trap in the making. "Maybe," she said, scrunching her nose at how coy that sounded coming out of her mouth. "Or maybe I'm just trying to make sure I'm first in line when you and the guys make it big. I'll buy the t-shirts and the keychains. Maybe I'll even get one of those travel coffee containers so that you're always right there beside me in my car."

"And that's all you want from me?" he asked, his teasing voice barely hiding the probing of the question. "To be a groupie."

"Number one groupie," she corrected. "After all, I'll be making it big too. We can negotiate something like taking turns being each other's opening acts." Her lips pursed into an almost smile as she settled into the worn seat cushions with a pleased expression. "I'm thinking world tour."

"Sounds like a great plan," Liam noted, kissing her temple before he joined her in the relaxed state. "So all we have to do is make it big?"

"Easy, right?"

***AAA***

"I heard a rumor that you were here," Ruby said when she entered through the back door of the kitchen at the apartment she and Granny shared. Her overly tall stilettos were dangling from her fingers and her jacket was clearly not hers, as its oversized nature indicated the she had pilfered it from a man. The makeup that she had carefully painted on earlier was fading a bit and she looked tired when she dropped keys, purse, and shoes onto a chair that sat underneath an old-fashioned landline phone on the wall. "You raiding the bar or the snacks?"

Henry looked up from his spot there at the kitchen's peninsula where he had been nursing a mug of hot chocolate with his chin resting in his hand. "Hot chocolate." His voice was barely a whisper.

The dark haired woman nodded and pulled a bottle of water out of the refrigerator before joining him in the other stool. Ignoring his pout, she began her nightly routine of removing earrings and necklaces before taking exactly two sips of water and looking back at him. "You don't have to be quiet. Granny sleeps with earphones and one of those sound machines. She won't hear you. It's a deal we made when I was a little older than you. If she doesn't hear it, see it, or smell it, then it's not happening."

"I couldn't sleep."

Ruby had already received a call from her grandmother about Neal and the fact that Henry would be joining them for the evening. It wasn't the first time that Neal had foisted the child of on someone else, but Ruby knew from experience that a diagnosis of kidney stones was not one she would wish on anyone. "You're your mother's son. Chocolate helps."

"Mom doesn't know I'm here." The silver spoon was engraved with an L for Lucas and sat next to the red and orange mug. He lifted it and spooned up some of the whipped cream that was doused liberally with cinnamon. "I asked Granny to not tell her yet."

Gulping a bit more of the water, Ruby nodded again. "But you have to call in the morning, right?"

"Yeah."

She knew the short version of what Henry was dealing with, having talked to Granny. However, there was clearly something else bothering him as he sat there regarding the chocolate drink for answers. Reaching up both hands, she ran her fingers through the tangled mass of curls and drew the thick long strands of hair into a sort of knot, using one hand to hold it and the other to blindly search for a clip. Finding one and securing it, she gave in and asked him what was troubling his young mind.

"My mom called earlier. She was getting on a boat for a dinner date and she wanted to check on me."

That sounded like something Emma would do, Ruby reasoned, not taking time to celebrate that her friend was clearly being romanced by Killian. She always thought of her son first, even taking time out of girls nights out to call or send him a message. When she and Mary Margaret had gone on a long weekend trip into the mountains, she had plucked up souvenirs from each quaint little shop and took pictures of things that Henry would enjoy. "That was nice of her?" Ruby asked, wondering if Henry might be feeling a bit too old for his mother's ardent attention.

"It was, but I…I lied. I didn't tell her about Dad or Tamara. I didn't tell her that I'm here. I don't want her to cut her time in Boston short because of me, but I had to lie."

Lips turned down and his eyes almost shining with unshed tears, she could see that the idea of being dishonest with his mother was a big deal to Henry. It wasn't that he was a saint or abnormal child. She could remember the day that he had lied about some homework assignment, an insignificant little matter that could have easily been swept aside. However, Emma had not reacted that way. She had not yelled or threatened punishment. Instead she had sat him down in their living room and reminded him that it was (at that time) just the two of them. They had to trust each other, she had implored, which meant that they could never lie to each other. It seemed that Henry had taken that lesson to heart.

"I think she will understand," Ruby offered helpfully. "She would just be worried that you weren't safe or that you weren't happy. I know we don't have the big flat screen like Neal does and we don't offer you expensive dinners at places other than Granny's, but I don't think it is so bad here. We'll call her in the morning and explain."

"We'll come clean?"

"Your mom is going to understand. And she might even be secretly a little glad because I think she's been looking forward to this date with Killian."

The boy drank again from the mug that wasn't quite as hot any more. "I think she's excited about it. He's her type, right?"

The water bottle was part way up to her lips when she heard that, causing her to sway back as if slapped. "You are spending way too much time talking to Granny about dating. She'll warp your mind, kid. Let's make a deal. If you have questions about love and dating and stuff, come to me or your mom. Not Granny."

***AAA***

The heat coming from the vents in the cab they were sharing back to the hotel was not exactly reaching the backseat. Unlike the wine excuse, which Killian pointed out didn't work because she had only had two glasses, the lack of heat meant that it was acceptable to snuggle into his side as the lights of Boston blurred outside the vehicle. She was not really looking at the scenery, as she had seen it more than a few times recently. Besides it was more than a little comfortable close her eyes and rest her forehead just where his neck met his shoulders.

"Tired?" he asked, the one word echoing in his chest and vibrating against her ear.

"Comfy," she corrected, trying not to think of that one bed waiting back in the room. Ruby was not incorrect that it had been a while since she had spent the night with any man. But David was right too that she had learned to compartmentalize her life to the point that she acted with men without regard to emotion or reason. However, Killian was different. And she still wasn't sure if she was ready for different.

His left arm pulled her in tighter as he buried his face in her soft blonde hair and mumbled something she wasn't quite sure she understood. He was holding his phone in his hand and made note that Elsa and Liam had begged off going out to find a nightclub with the others, claiming that Elsa was tired and ready for some quiet.

"Would you be disappointed if I said I was too?" she asked, her lips near the collar of his shirt. "I think we did enough dancing on the boat."

"I was thinking the same." He used his thumb to acknowledge the message and then tucked the device into his coat pocket. "Emma, I think that perhaps we should talk about tonight."

Her head rolled forward, allowing her to bury her face in the soft material of his shirt, inhaling the scent that was a combination of his laundry detergent, cologne, and the sweat of the evening's dancing. "I don't want to," she said honestly and sullenly. "I don't want to talk about it."

There was amusement in his chuckle as he again lowered his face to her hair, kissing the back of her head. "I just don't wish for you to think I have any expectations. I know that the obvious conclusion of two adults sharing a bed and room is…"

"Sex?" she asked, raising her head to note the driver was not in fact watching them through the mirror more than the traffic.

"Aye. But I have no intention of rushing us along any path that makes you want to run away from me. If you want to curl up and watch your blasted HGTV and try to guess which house these blokes will choose, then I'm more than willing. I hope that it does not come as any surprise to you that I enjoy your company and would rather spend a quiet evening hearing you pontificate about the differences in detached houses and row houses than spend it alone."

She hardly wanted to have this conversation in the back of a cab, but the idea that he was making it her choice was just another check in his column of good qualities. "Maybe," she said, moving up so that she was closer to his ear. "We go back to the room and stop planning things. We just see what happens."

"Do you mean we should plan to be spontaneous?" he asked, mocking her with a look of shock, jaw slack and eyes wide.

"I mean we should do what feels right." She shifted, her legs finding a comfortable position over his thighs. "And I'm enjoying myself. Maybe we should do less talking and thinking."

***AAA***

Elsa and Liam had taken a similar route, the two of them curled up under one of the blankets. He was flat on his back with his head propped on a pillow and she laid next to him, using him as her own version of a pillow. The one difference between them and Killian and Emma was that they had taken to watching a cooking competition.

"I wouldn't even know what to do with tripe," Elsa said, wrinkling her nose in disgust. "Isn't that…"

"Stomach lining of a cow," Liam answered with an equal disdain. "A delicacy I'm sure, but one I'd rather not attempt to cook or eat."

"There are so many perfectly lovely foods out there. Rich and decadent foods, spicy and succulent. Why would anyone want to go with that?" She shuddered as the man on camera nearly cut himself in the hurried attempt to make his dish in the time limit. She was very squeamish when it came to blood.

She hummed as his hand massaged through her hair, fingers tangling with the length as they continued their not exactly expert analysis of the culinary competition. There was a soothing and soft nature to his ministrations that made her feel warm and gooey from the attention.

"You're trying to distract me," she complained when he asked what she would make from the next set of mystery ingredients that included flank steak, cotton candy, boiled peanuts, and kimchi. Just as she opened her mouth to answer, he had maneuvered his arm under rolling them until he was facing her.

"Is that what you call it?" he asked, his look in his eyes lustful not scary.

Lifting her head off the mattress just a fraction, she met his mouth with her own in a sound kiss, before letting it fall backwards and bringing him with her. They forgot the show for a bit, letting the remote fall off the bed as their lips and mouths explored, hands groping but not unintentional in their movements. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask what had prompted such a reaction from him, but that inner voice told her to stop questioning and just enjoy the moment with him.

Liam pulled her close to him and wrapped his arms around her, running his hands along her sides, bunching the fabric of her shirt in his grip. Her tilted back, he placed his lips on hers. The kiss slowly intensified, and became stronger than the kisses they had shared before. He finally broke it off so he could look at her, and drink in all of her beauty. He couldn't believe how much time he had wasted already, and he had no plans to let any more time with this perfect girl in front of him pass him by.

She ran her teeth along her bottom lip, trying not to read too much into his pause. "Liam?"

"Just wondering if you're real," he said, laughing at himself. "I am not sure I fully believe it."

"I am," she assured, smiling at him again and nuzzling her head against his chest. "I wonder about you though." Liam stroked her hair softly and smiled. He felt like he could stay like this forever until he heard his Will's voice through the door asking for the passcode for the locked minibar in his room.

***AAA***

"What are you doing?" she asked as Killian bypassed the main elevator and led her toward the parking garage. "Why are we…"

"I thought you wanted more action and less conversation." He was gripping her hand solidly, their fingers entwined and his footsteps quick. "Or however that song goes."

"You're going to start singing Elvis now?" she teased. However he didn't answer her as he situated them in his jeep. "Where are you taking me, Killian?"

He kept his eyes on the road and remained mysterious, telling her to close her eyes or he would blindfold her. "You'll see in a few minutes, just keep your eyes closed. And, if you open them, I will catch you."

Emma nodded and tried her best to keep her promise. She tried to lift her lids only slightly, but all she saw was darkness and streetlights. She sighed and shut her eyes again, determined to enjoy whatever surprise he might have in store for her. Minutes later, she heard the car pull off the main road and she could tell it was driving over twigs and grass. She felt the car pull to a stop, and Killian shut the engine off.

"Don't move, love. Don't open your eyes."

She groaned in frustration. "Alright..." She could hear Killian get out of his seat and shut the door behind him. She heard a soft rustling outside, and then a draft of cold air as her passenger door opened beside her. Killian placed his hand gently on her arm and kissed her cheek.

"Come on, follow me... eyes closed..."

She undid her seatbelt and carefully stepped out of the car, trying not to fall over in her state of current blindness. Killian held on to her arm and led her just a few steps away. He stopped and then moved behind her to wrap his arms around her.

Leaning forward, he softly whispered into her ear. "Open your eyes..."

She slowly opened her eyes and looked out at the city in front of her. From this spot she could see all of Boston. "It's beautiful here," she breathed, leaning back into his embrace. "But is this like a make out spot? Aren't we a little old for this."

"I didn't come up here for that," he said, squeezing a bit tighter as the wind blew. "I just thought that we might enjoy a moment without expectations or choices. A moment where we are just Killian and Emma."

She stared out at the lights, seeing them for the businesses and residences that made up the town. "I almost made this home," she said quietly, looking out on it with new eyes. "I lived here for a while. Kind of liked it. It's different than Storybrooke. Easier to get lost in and to hide who you really are."

"I'm rather happy you have made Storybrooke your home." His voice sounded thick and melodic. "I would not have met you otherwise."

Her head was resting on his shoulder as she pointed out a few of the places they had not seen on the boat. She noted where her apartment had been and the things she had loved about living there. There were the coffee places and a bookstore she frequented. There was the corner grocery where she could get all her favorite things. So many details that she had not thought of in years assaulted her senses. Yet even as she reminisced, she realized she did not truly miss them. "It looks smaller now," she noted. "Like it isn't as big and scary as I thought before."

"Perhaps you are different now," he said softly. "Perhaps you are braver."

Emma turned and looked up at him, the reflection of city's lights were shining in his blue eyes. He smiled back at her and gently moved his hand through her hair, leaving it to rest at the nape of her neck. "Maybe I'm realizing that home isn't a place. It's the people. I can live anywhere, but if I'm not with the people I love and care about it doesn't matter."

Killian leaned forward and kissed her passionately, until they both seemed to be out of air. He smiled and clasped her hand, motioning towards the jeep with a tilt of his head. Leading her over, he helped her onto the hood of the jeep. He leaned back against the window to get a view of the stars, and she laid next to him to take in the same view.

"Sometimes I worry too much," she said, breaking the silence again. "I think that the world is going to come to an end or something bad will happen if I'm happy. Like there is this giant scale out there and it has to be in balance so I have to pay for the happy moments. And no matter how much I tell myself to stop, I keep thinking that I'm too happy when I'm with you. Maybe I'm going to wake up and be back in my apartment, and it will just be some long, weird dream."

He wrapped his hand around hers and held on tightly. "I know what you mean... But, this is real. Of course, there's part of my brain that is always worried about the next catastrophe, when it's going to happen and what it's going to do to all of us. It just seems like things are always going wrong for the people I care about."

"I guess we have that in common. This worrying thing. We spend more time worrying about things than we do actually enjoying life. So let's make a deal. No more worrying. Not tonight. We can sit here and enjoy this beautiful view and not think that an asteroid is going to come and strike us down. Okay?"

Killian nodded again and smiled. "Okay... No more worrying."

She smiled in return and laid back down, snuggling closer to him. She had spent far too long mired in her painful past, and she had decided not to let it get her down anymore. She didn't want to think too hard about the future either, she wanted to take each moment step by step and enjoy them. She and Killian laid there on the hood of his jeep for a little while longer, chatting quietly about less-complicated thoughts underneath the twinkling starlight. And she loved every second of it.

When they returned to their room, there was no question for either of them about next steps or complicated entanglements. Instead they appreciated the quietness of the moment and showed each other physically what they weren't ready to say with words.