Henry wrinkled his nose and threw back his head in preparation for the sneeze that was coming from the saw dust that seemed to float through the air like a thick fog at Killian's seaside cottage. After a short debate over the subject, it was decided that Emma and Henry would move there and that Killian would bring in a few workmen to convert the partially complete attic space into two additional rooms and a bathroom. With the goal of being settled by the start of the school year, the three of them had been in a state of flux for more than a week.

Killian's former home office turned Liam's bedroom was emptied out for Henry. The navy walls were lightened to a cool tan and the 12 year old's familiar bedroom furniture was now placed against the walls. It wasn't done yet, but he'd spent two nights there already and had begun to consider it his own. However, Killian could tell that the boy was lacking total comfort in the situation. Two of his friends were vying for invites to hang out, but he'd yet to actually invite them despite Killian and Emma assuring him that it was fine.

"Maybe over the bed a little more that way," Henry said, pointing his finger to the left.

Emma had left on a short trip with Anna and Elsa to Vermont for a show, leaving the two guys alone in the house for the first time. She had spoken at length to both of them about the arrangement, offering to get Granny or Neal to watch Henry instead. However, they had both insisted they would do well and have a few extra things unpacked by the time she returned. Skeptical, she had already checked in three times in the first 12 hours of her business trip.

That morning's agenda had included unpacking Henry's collection of comics and accessories that now sat organized on the shelves from the room's office days. When Killian came across a few lithographs and prints of some of the boy's favorite super heroes, he had headed straight to the art store to buy frames. They were attempting to hang the newly framed pictures on the freshly painted walls, which had Killian balancing on Henry's mattress with a nail between his teeth, a hammer under his arm, and his hand stretching to hold the frame in position for approval.

He shifted the frame a bit and asked for a check around the precariously positioned nail.

"I think that's good," the boy said, relieving Killian of the frame before hopping up onto the mattress himself to hold the nail. His movements bounced the bed and Killian nearly fell from the momentum. "Sorry."

The two worked well together as they hung those couple of prints and then turned their attention to the photographs that Henry had taken on their vacation. Smaller versions were placed on the shelves along with books and action figures on stands. Two others had been framed and hung in the living room in the place of more generic landscapes that Killian said were far from being as special. Henry had been a little shocked by the gesture, but it was Emma who had hugged them both and declared the photos perfect. Mixed in with those were pictures of Henry with his friends and a few of him and Emma. On his night stand was a faded photo of his parents. Emma looked much younger, as did Neal, both curled together, noses touching and eyes crinkling in a shared laugh.

Henry caught Killian looking at it twice while they hung up clothes to go in the closet. "I could move that someplace else. It probably makes you sad to see that."

Killian shook his head, reaching into the cardboard box for another shirt. "They are your parents, Henry. I think it is quite special to have a photo of them looking happy together."

Thoughtfully, Henry pulled the hanger through the neck of the shirt and stared at Killian's hardened expression. "Do you have photos of your parents?"

"Not together," Killian admitted. He actually had no photo of his father, though he knew that Liam kept one in a drawer. A portrait of their mother, young and still full of life sat in a simple silver frame. Her reddish hair sat curly and piled up on top of her head, her dress soft and billowing. She was looking over her shoulder as if startled out of some thought. Her bow shaped lips were parted and a number of freckles were scattered across the bridge of her nose. After she had died, he had found himself speaking to the photo sometimes, as it looked like she might talk back.

"I'm pretty good at Photoshop," Henry offered, standing on his toes to hang another of the shirts. "Violet taught me. I could put one together for you. It would look real."

Unsure how to explain his lack of a photo of his own father, Killian instead focused on another part of Henry's monologue. "Violet? You mean the young lass who…"

"We're just friends," the 12 year old told him defensively. "It's just a friend thing."

Killian's first thought was that Henry seemed an awful lot like his mother in the way that he denied things that had not even been mentioned. Considering quoting Shakespeare, Killian shook his head and then threw another shirt to his student. "I wasn't aware that the two of you were such good friends."

Much like his mother did, the boy's cheeks turned a distinct shade of pink as she dug down for another hanger. "She's nice and we talk sometimes. I have texted her and she's texted me." He wrinkled his nose. "My mom doesn't know though, okay?"

"Your mother would object to your having a friend?" Killian prodded, biting back a smirk. The boy was clearly infatuated with her and unable to properly express it without embarrassment. "I see no issue with Violet being a bad influence on you or anything."

Henry huffed a bit at the mere idea of his mother objecting to Violet as a person. "My mom thinks I'm too young for a girlfriend." He spun around, his sneakers making a loud protest on the wood floor. "She said that I shouldn't be worried about that stuff yet."

"Aye, mothers do tend to think that way, but there is nothing wrong with being friends with the lass. In the future though…"

"Don't tell me to wait until we're both older. You know that isn't what will happen. She'll meet someone who doesn't have a mother who thinks he should be 35 before he goes on a date. I'm not wanting to marry her. I just want to go to a movie or hang out at Granny's."

Killian knew that look as one that would send him back to Emma with a request that he was not all that comfortable making. He wanted to tell Henry that Emma had her reasons. He wanted to speak of patience and respect for his mother's wishes. He knew that the right answer was that if it was meant to be then they would be able to wait with no issues at all. He couldn't though. He had nothing to offer Henry but a sad smile and a promise that he would see what he could do.

***AAA***

"It feels weird," Emma admitted, doubling the second pillow behind her head in the hotel room and leaving the television on mute as it replayed cooking competition shows over and over. She had checked in with Henry earlier, learning that the guys had nixed the idea of fishing for their supper in favor of Chinese take out and some movie marathon that she wasn't supposed to know about. When she called back to talk to Killian, she learned that her son was in bed and that the house was quiet for the first time that day without workmen banging and sawing. "I know I get to come home to you, but it's still just not feeling like it's real."

"I can assure you that it is quite real, love," Killian said softly. She didn't have to think to hard to realize that he was entering his, make that their, bedroom and was keeping his voice low until he was in there. "And I can assure you that I miss you quite a bit, as does Henry."

"You're really okay with this?" she asked, her voice muffled momentarily as she took off her shirt. "I didn't mean for us to invade your house and put your on babysitting duty."

"Love, it's perfectly fine. Henry and I are getting along well and we already have plans for tomorrow night with Robin and Roland. I believe my lout of a brother may be joining us as well."

"Men's night with booze and broads?" she teased. "Just remember that my son may act like he's all grown up and say that he is, but he's still a kid. You stick him in front of a stripper and he might freak out. That's on you."

There was a silence that seemed a beat too long before Killian spoke again. "So about that, Emma," he said, pulling out her name rather than some term of endearment.

"You didn't," she moaned. "Was it a movie or a website? Why am I even asking? He found some website and you stepped in to have that birds and bees talk that I keep avoiding because I don't know what to say other than please don't."

"Nothing like that," Killian said, amusement peeking through his nervous titter. "I'm afraid the boy has been suffering for a young lass he fancies. He's quite afraid of your reaction and asked for my assistance."

The long puff of air sounded a bit like static on the phone. "Violet, right? I mean it could be Grace, but I've sort of noticed that he spends a little more time at his day camp stuff with Violet. So I'm guessing it is Violet."

"Aye," Killian confirmed. "He seems to fancy her quite a bit. And I was thinking that perhaps you would be agreeable to some outing with the two of them."

Coughing, Emma struggled to respond. "You want to go on a double date with my 12 year old son and his crush? Are you serious?"

"I'm hardly speaking about a romantic weekend in a mountain cabin, love. I just thought that perhaps we could take them to a movie or the arcade. Every young lad should have the opportunity to woo a young lass that he fancies."

He knew that she running a hand through her hair and scrunching up her eyes and nose in preparation for a battle. The image of her in such a state was as clear to him as if she was next to him in the all too empty bed he was reclined on top of at that moment. "And what are we supposed to do while he's doing all this wooing? You think I can handle this? I want my baby boy back."

"Love, I will do my best to distract you from the trauma of your son's first courting experience."

"Oh no you don't," she said with mock seriousness. "If you're going to put me through this then we're going to spy and make sure everything goes according to plan. I'm talking conversation starters, daylight rules, and certainly no kissing."

"Emma, it's 2016 not 1816." He was chuckling at the overprotective vibe he was getting from her and enjoying the distress in her voice a bit too much.

"I'll think about it," she muttered. "And if this goes badly, I'm blaming you."

***AAA***

"I'm afraid I'm not quite what you're probably looking for," Liam said, not sounding at all confident as the woman across from him scrutinized him carefully.

"And what is it that you think I'm seeking, Mr. Jones," Zelena queried, her hands folded under her chin and his resume face up in front of her. "Because Emma seemed quite certain you were the perfect choice."

"I would assume you want someone with experience and management training," he answered honestly. He had risen through the ranks of the British Navy, but managing civilians at a bar was hardly the same thing. He'd never had to remove a rowdy customer from a submarine, nor made purchasing decisions based on event schedules that included ladies' night, special performances, and two for one drink specials during happy hour. He told her as much.

"But can you learn?" she asked, tilting her head to the side. "See, Mr. Jones, I am well aware that Rabbit Hole is in Storybrooke. This isn't New York or London. We're never going to have a line down the street or a movie made about us. It's a bar in a small town where the sidewalks are rolled up by seven. It'll be mostly the same customers every night, ordering the same things, and ignoring whatever live talent we bring inside. I'm not looking for a renowned restaurant manager because I won't find one willing to live in this town."

"So you're settling," he surmised. "I'm not sure that is all that complimentary toward me." It was strange to be in a bar at 9 a.m. when the scents of spilled beer and other spirits lingered over empty tables and dim lights. There hung an invisible cloud in the air that he was not all that convinced didn't hold laughter and voices of patrons. "But if you are willing to take the chance that I won't completely muck things up…"

"You want to sing though." She knew who he was and that he had already recorded several songs with his band already. However, she also knew that despite the dreams of the young, most in the music industry worked an assortment of jobs until they were able to support themselves on the craft alone. "I suppose I should be worried that you will make some big success of yourself and quit. However, you come with good recommendations and I think you can do it. Is that enough for you?"

"More than," he said, sticking out his hand. "When do I start?"

"Now if you like. I've got to get the tables and chairs cleared out of that area there for the contractors. I'd say it would be a good chance to delegate, but you don't have a staff yet. You should get on that too. Part of the old crew hopes to stick around, but if you don't want them then deal with it. There are files and stuff in the office. Good luck."

***AAA***

The stage at the amphitheater was larger than Elsa was used to working on, which could have made her nervous. However, it was hard to feel that way when her sister was offering a running commentary on her latest pregnancy cravings. It was like a hormonal infomercial on a cooking channel.

"I like fudge sauce the best," the younger sister was saying as she paced out the distance from where the stage manager indicated microphones would be placed to the edge of the sage. "But there is something so good about caramel and butter scotch. I know I could combine them into this super sauce thing, but I love chocolate. Is it wrong for me to like the others too? Is it like I'm cheating on chocolate?"

Emma was seated on the third row of the empty audience section, nodding as Elsa spoke into the microphone for the check. She seemed to know just when Elsa and Anna needed a moment apart. "Anna, why don't you go check and make sure the dressing room has been set up for you two. I don't want to have to unpack everything like in Connecticut."

"Oh my God, I don't want that either. I think we should invent something that automatically packs and unpacks for you. Or is disposable! I could totally see disposable clothes being a thing. What do you think? We could develop something. Then we could be on Shark Tank!" She grabbed her sister's arm and bounced for a moment until she remembered that she had a task to attend to at that moment. Still talking, she headed backstage, leaving a wake of crew shaking their heads.

"Thanks," Elsa said, blowing a few of the errant hairs that threatened to fall over her eyes. "I love her but…"

"Small doses," Emma said consolingly, pushing her hands on the end of the stage to pull herself up. "I know. I think she's gotten worse."

"It's the pregnancy. She has all these weird cravings that have her eating strange things and feeling the need to tell everyone and anyone about it. Last night she wanted tacos and hot dogs plus dessert of marshmallows, chocolate, and soda crackers. Kristoff tried to tell her that s'mores are made with graham crackers, but that's not what Olaf wanted."

"Olaf?" Emma asked, confused who this mystery person with the funny name was and why his cravings mattered.

"That's what they're calling the baby. Don't ask. Anyway, I'm sure Regina is going to freak when she sees the room service bill. Anna orders all this food, changes her mind, orders more, and then eats both orders because it's rude and wasteful not to do so."

"Remind me to hire her a personal trainer after Olaf is born," Emma said, disbelievingly. Anna's pregnancy was far from showing yet, but eating like that would certainly add to her waist line.

"She burns off the calories by talking." Elsa tapped on the second microphone to test it, finding no feedback. She frowned and did it again. "So what's going on? I know you didn't send my sister away to let me have a moment's peace. You're nice, but you're not that nice."

Emma lifted a stool and carried it onto the stage to place where Anna usually sat during some of the slower songs. Arranging it like she wanted, Emma perched on the edge of it. "It's Henry," she admitted, sighing deeply. "He has a crush. He hasn't even told me about it. He told Killian."

"Isn't that what you wanted?" Elsa asked taking a seat on the other stool. "I mean you were worried about how they would interact with the whole living together thing. I thought you were worrying over nothing, but you still worried."

"It's what I do best," Emma snapped. "It's just that Killian thinks we should let him ask this girl out for ice cream or something. We could go with them. I mean Killian is honestly suggesting a double date with my son and some girl."

Emma was rubbing a spot just above her left eyebrow as if the whole idea was causing a tension headache. Perhaps it was, she thought as the pain shot through her.

"I'm going to repeat something you told me after Liam went all baby daddy on me," Elsa said, looping her feet over the rungs of her stool. "That's kind of cute. Adorable even. I bet Killian's giving him some good advice how to flirt."

"Elsa, that's so not what I need to hear right now."

The white blonde braid of Elsa's hair flew over her shoulder as she threw it back from the peasant blouse she was wearing with an older pair of jeans. Even in this casual look, Elsa held herself in a regal stance that screamed of her coming from money and privilege. Regina and Emma had both been working with her on looking more comfortable, as it would be more relatable to the audience.

"Maybe not, but it's true. Emma, Henry's not a child any more. He's going to be 13 in a few weeks. And we both know that liking a girl is hardly the worst thing in the world for him. It won't be much longer that he'll even let you go out on a date with him. Instead he's going to be begging to borrow car keys and arguing about curfews. So enjoy it."

"You're saying that like you're a mother and have been through this," Emma said sourly. "I love you, Elsa, but seriously. That little boy is my son. I'm still not over the fact that he figured out about Santa Claus and that he's got his own cell phone that I know he uses for more than emergencies."

"And he's going to keep growing up like it or not." Elsa leaned in her seat to ram her shoulder against Emma. "Take pics and enjoy it."

"So I'm about to encourage my son to ask a girl out?" Emma asked weakly. "I don't know that I can do this."

Elsa giggled, hugging herself a little tighter. She hadn't been around Henry all that much, but she had seen him enough to know she liked him. He was smart and polite, clearly a good kid who loved his mother and wanted to make her proud. "Yup," she said, popping the p at the end of the word. "So what do you think you four should do? What did Killian say?"

"Movie or arcade," Emma said with a sigh. She knew she was being overprotective. When she had decided to keep her son rather than place him with the state or an agency, she had known it was for one main reason. She wanted him to have a better life than she had growing up in foster homes. At his age she had already run away twice. She didn't have first date memories or school dance crushes. Her scrapbook, had anyone cared enough to make one for her, would have included her first time stealing or the first night she slept in a public location. "I feel like that's kind of boring though."

Elsa nodded thoughtfully. "You know," she began, drawing out the word as she raised her eyebrows. "You could be the really cool mom here."

"Which entails what?"

"You work in music and can get tickets to any show. Maybe you could take them to a concert. I think at 12 I would have been really impressed by that. Get two seats for them. And two seats a row or two back for you and Killian. That way you don't embarrass him and he's not worried about you two holding hands or kissing in the dark. Plus if you're a couple of rows away, Killian has a better shot at holding back when Henry tries that yawn and stretch move on the girl."

Emma put her hand over her mouth like she was about to get sick. "I don't want to think about my son putting moves on girls."

"One more tip," Elsa said, hopping down from the stool as Anna's footsteps and voice came closer. "Don't watch them through the rearview mirror on the drive. You're likely to cause an accident."

***AAA***

"You're speaking with your gainfully employed boyfriend, darling," Liam announced when Elsa called a few hours before her show. "It's a glorious thing."

"Hmmm," Elsa said, her free hand playing with the belt that tied her robe together. "It makes it so confusing though. My other boyfriend has a job. Now you have a job. I'm going to have to come up with new nicknames for the two of you. Why is everything so hard?" She hoped that she sounded as pouty and despondent as she was trying to sound. From his brief laugh, she knew she had nailed it.

"Darling, one of these days I'm going to believe you on that. And then where will you be?" He chuckled. "And here I thought you might tell me how proud you are of me and how much you miss me."

Her voice dropped a bit lower as she complied. "I do miss you, Liam. And of course I'm proud of you, but you know I wasn't pressuring you to do anything else other than be happy." She was happy for him, hoping that this new career would offer him some purpose and satisfaction that waiting for a music career to take off never did. "So when the girls and come out to the club are we going to get free drinks?"

"But of course," he said. "Just how often do you and the ladies make it over though? I thought that such outings were meant to entice men. You are already spoken for."

"Options. I have to have options. Never mind that though. Congrats. Tell me about it. I want to know where you're going to be spending your time and more about Zelena. Is she really the witch everyone says she is? I know Emma finds her a bit scary."

Liam filled her in on his new duties and the way that Zelena had remained quite formal with his last name instead of his first. He was clearly enjoying the challenge, stating that she had already scheduled him time off for the upcoming recording of their song together. Emma had wanted to redo it, finding the first version a bit rough.

"Sounds perfect," she told him.

The conversation was light until she admitted her nerves over that night's performance. It wasn't so much stage fright as it was the realization that she was doing what she was meant to do.

"It feels like a big responsibility," she admitted to him, inwardly cursing the clock on the wall that told her it was nearing time to have her hair and makeup done. "Anna's depending on me. Emma's depending on me. Sometimes I wish that I could just sing and play my guitar and forget all of the pressure and the responsibility." She sighed. "I wish it was just about the music."

"I know, Elsa," he said, sounding reluctant to end the conversation. "I am not there, but perhaps you could sing for me. I do love to hear your voice."

"I love you, Liam."

***AAA***

Emma threw the bottle of water toward the stage hand and reminded him that Anna was to have a bottle after every second song. It was one of the strict rules of her pregnancy and concerns over performing. Dehydration was not something she wanted to be responsible for in terms of a pregnant woman. As flighty as the young singer could be, she was still a hard worker and determined to keep up the grueling travel schedule as long as possible.

She shot a wave to Kristoff, who was smuggling in mini turkey sliders that the venue's chef had refused to make and Anna insisted she needed. Like normal, his lumbering form looked slightly awkward around all the musicians who tended to be much smaller and dainty. However, he wore a happy smile as he tossed a few of the burgers to one of the security guys and clearly lit up when he spotted his fiancé looking beautiful in a lavender sleeveless dress and black ballet flats.

"Doing alright?" Emma asked when she made her way to the mirror where Elsa sat. Two different women were brushing through the white blonde tresses and remarking how soft and perfect her hair was for the style they were planning. Her nearly violet eyes were blank as she nodded slightly in acknowledgement and whispered a thank you. Hands around a cup of hot tea and honey, she caught Emma's eye in the mirror and slowly smiled.

"As well as I can for a performance night where I feel like crawling in bed and pretending this isn't happening." She frowned. "I'm horrible, right? A million girls would kill for this opportunity and all I can think is that it is too much."

Sliding between one of the stylists and the counter in front of the mirror, Emma sat on the ledge and crossed her ankles. "It's not too late to quit, but I think you'd miss it."

"I would," Elsa agreed. "Sounds like a great crowd."

"It is. And a certain someone in Storybrooke is wishing he was here. He's texted me four times already about making sure you're not freaking out."

She huffingly laughed at the idea of Emma adding Liam wrangler to her list of duties. "Distract me," she demanded. "That will make me feel better."

Leaning back against the cool mirror, Emma hummed a bit. "So I told Killian your idea about the concert. He loved it. He is planning to help Henry come up with a way to ask this Violet girl. I swear if he teaches my son pick up lines, I may have to have a chat with both of them. Liam's gotten in on it too. Killian said he's going to suggest a roleplay for practice with Liam being Violet. I told him to take pictures."

Elsa's laugh was lighter and easier. "I want to see that. Can we get him a wig and maybe a bow?"

"Oh I'm thinking all out drag costume with video to haunt him forever."

"He would hate you forever, but you might win a few points with Killian for that one."

Emma winked conspiratorially. "Oh and the wedding plans. Mary Margaret wanted to confirm that you will sing at the reception. I told her that we would have to get her a quote on that what with the extra security, equipment, appearance fees and all."

"You didn't," Elsa giggled. "You know I'm willing to do that for free. I just need to figure out the song."

"Let her squirm. She has me wearing a yellow dress as her maid of honor. Yellow…I am going to look like I'm wrapped in caution tape. Let her sweat out a few days of thinking she can't get what she wants."

"Did you talk to Killian about the song?" Elsa asked, cringing in anticipation of an answer.

"Yeah, no, I didn't. I know you and Mary Margaret liked the idea of something original and Liam's too busy what with the new job. But asking Killian to do that is a bit tricky."

"Anna and I can come up with something," Elsa promised, waving her hand as if brushing off the idea. "It's going to be fine."

Emma smiled gratefully and tried to think of something else to say and talk about with her friend. She'd dealt with her fair share of nervous performers before, but Elsa was a special case. The woman seemed to have no issue with the performance itself. It was the overthinking that did her in each time. She was not sure that she was equipped to deal with it. Parting her lips to start a conversation about a television show, she felt the vibration on her thigh from her phone. Lifting it, she shook her head at the goofy picture she had taken of Liam for his contact listing.

Swiping her finger across the screen, she read the message to herself.

Liam: Would you mind giving Elsa that little present I entrusted to you?

Emma responded yes and dug into her pocket to pull out a tissue paper package. "So Liam got this for you for tonight. He had hoped to give it to you himself, but I guess I'm standing in for him."

She held it out as the two women working on Elsa's hair and makeup tried to appear disinterested with their eyes still firmly on the small gift. One even said it looked like jewelry to them.

Reaching for it tentatively, Elsa smiled. "He really does care about me, doesn't he?"

"I'd say so," Emma said softly. "And he's not the only one, you know? Anna adores you. I'm a big fan myself. Ruby and Mary Margaret are talking about replacing me with you because you're less prickly. Killian thinks you're a saint for dealing with his brother. Regina is in awe of your talent. The guys in Liam's band have already asked me to replace him with you. You're getting quite the fan club, Elsa. And that isn't pressure. It's people loving you and wanting good things for you."