It was one-thirty in the morning when Ian arrived home from the bar.

He didn't normally indulge in nights at the bar out of an abundance of caution, but Emily could tell that he was getting cabin fever lately, so she urged him to go out to the local Irish pub for a beer or two. Apparently, though, that beer or two had turned into substantially more, if the scent of liquor wafting off him as he stumbled into the bedroom was any indication...

Groping about on the wall in search of the light switch, he flooded the bedroom with light, blasting Emily's retinas as she pushed herself to sit up in bed. "What the fuck, Ian?" she grumbled, "It's almost two AM!"

Kicking off his shoes, he fumbled with his belt buckle, and – rather loudly – declared, "I hope you're naked under there..."

Emily – decidedly unamused – crossed her arms over her chest and glowered at him. "I don't know what's gotten into you, but whatever it is you think is going to happen tonight, I can assure you most definitely is not."

"So, I got a little drunk.." he said, waving away her concerns with a pssh sound.

"A little drunk!?" she repeated incredulously. "You're completely wasted!"

He laughed, finally succeeding in getting his pants off and attempting what she assumed was supposed to be a seductive expression. "So, are we going to fuck or not?"

"Most definitely not," she said flatly. "In fact, we won't even be sleeping in the same bed."

"You...you're kicking me out?" he scoffed. She threw a pillow at him in answer. "Go to Hell, Emily," he muttered.

When she awoke an hour and a half later, Emily felt bad for being harsh with Ian. She didn't think she was wrong, per se, but she wanted to give him a chance to apologize. So, she swallowed down her pride and tiptoed into the guest bedroom to see if he was still awake.

"Ian?" she whispered into the darkness.

"Aye?" came the reply, followed by the bedside lamp flicking on.

"Still awake, huh?" she said, sitting on the edge of the bed and offering him a tight smile. He gave her a pointed look because duh. "I'm sorry," she said in reply, "I shouldn't have blown up like that. I should have given you a chance to explain yourself. To apologize."

He scoffed. "You want me to apologize for having fun?"

She positively glowered in reply, realizing she should have expected this kind of reaction from him – Ian Doyle wasn't a man who apologized. For anything. Ever. Regardless of whether he was right or wrong, whether he was at fault or not. "No, I want you to apologize for getting drunk while knowing full well that it's a trigger for me."

He groaned, making a dramatic show of rolling his eyes. "Not this again..." he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for her to hear.

"Yes, this again," she replied dourly. "You know how I feel about your drinking."

"I am not your father, Emily," he said dismissively.

With a pointed look, she said, "No, you're just remarkably like him when you get drunk." She'd only half meant it – she'd said it more out of a desire to hurt him than any actual similarity – but now that she'd said it, she refused to take it back.

He looked remarkably like he would have liked to lash out and hit her in that moment, but the one time he'd raised a hand to her, she'd responded in kind and broken his nose. Instead, he balled his hands into fists at his side, trembling with the white hot fury of his anger.

"You're thinking about hurting me, aren't you?" she challenged, if for no other reason than she had a habit of poking the bear. "You're just proving me right..."

"Damn it, Emily!" he snapped, "You always do this! You can never just let things go!" He tossed his hands up in huffy resignation. "You know, sometimes, I think this was all a big mistake..."

A brittle beat passed.

Then, a quiet, "You don't mean that..." Another beat. And, in a smaller voice, "Do you?"

He heaved a sigh. "I don't know, Emily." He mashed his lips together as if biting down on the words he truly wanted to say. "Maybe?"

"Then why are you still here?" she asked, devoid of emotion.

His reply was immediate and vehement, "Because I love you, Emily. In spite of everything – all the reasons why I shouldn't, why we shouldn't work, why we don't make sense – I love you with everything I am. And I'm going to keep loving you, even if it is a mistake."