Liam lets himself into the house with a wince at the creaking door, the usual lingering guilt chasing him inside. It's early, just after sunrise, but Killian's truck is in the driveway, and the house is quiet.

You need to stop doing this, mate, he tells himself sternly, reaching blearily for the coffee pot and setting about preparing the morning brew. Sneaking back home like you're a bloody teenager is downright shameful.

And for a moment, he savors that – that Liam Jones can be just a tiny bit reckless for once in his bloody life – but it's only a few seconds later that his perpetual guilt settles heavily on his shoulders once more. He shouldn't be spending the night with Elsa, holed up in her cozy house where the outside world has to wait until morning; he shouldn't be sneaking around behind his brothers' backs, either. But as much as he likes her, he doesn't have room in his life for distractions, and there's no sense in letting anyone get too attached.

Himself included.

The creak on the stair alerts him to Killian's presence moments before his brother's messy head of hair appears, the rest of him in little better shape shirtless and barefoot. "How are you not bloody freezing?" he mutters as Killian passes.

It isn't until his brother shrugs that Liam catches the relaxed set of his shoulders and the hint of a smile on his lips – Killian practically glows with happiness.

And it makes Liam suspicious – and angry. Because here he is, feeling guilty about spending the night with a woman he's been seeing for months – a good, stable woman with a career and a home and a life – and Killian has been dallying with lord knows who. His money is on Emma Swan, expert at running from life's problems, and he bitterly reflects on how suited they are to each other. How like Killian to shirk his responsibilities to enjoy himself, never mind that Liam already raised him and they're supposed to be raising their brother together; never mind that Killian hasn't even tried to hide his desires or curb his lust when it comes to Emma, to hell with what impact it has on their brother.

"You're up early," Killian comments as he shuffles past, and there's something about the once over he gives Liam that makes him wonder if Killian realizes he's just getting home. Usually little brother is still quite asleep when Liam arrives back from his evenings with Elsa.

But they don't talk about that, so Liam simply shrugs, leaning back against the counter. "I might say the same for you."

"Just came down for a glass of water." He says a glass of water, but Killian takes two glasses down from the cabinet. As though he feels Liam's glare, he turns around with an irritated sigh, fiddling with the glasses. "Emma is here," he says in a low voice, the water momentarily forgotten as he squares his shoulders and lifts his chin, a clean signal he's preparing for a fight. "It's not my tale to tell, but she had a rather rough night of it, and I would appreciate it if you would be civil to her."

Liam recognizes the stubborn set of his little brother's jaw, and he should just nod, let it go – they've gone around and around this particular topic, and nothing he says seems to sink in with Killian. But that's just it; Killian is doing what Killian has always done. Liam is the one who's had to be responsible, to make sure the mortgage is paid and the orders placed on time with the suppliers. Liam pays their taxes and makes sure the younger Liam has clothes for school.

And Killian fucks whatever women he pleases in their home while their kid brother is asleep across the hall.

"Tell me, little brother, how did a rough night of it turn into sharing your bed?"

"Piss off, Liam. It wasn't as though I brought her here intending to seduce her. She needed a place to stay for the night. It...happened." Killian shrugs, as though fucking one of their employees isn't a complete cock up, and his nonchalance pushes Liam's buttons like nothing else.

"And why did she need a place to stay? Taking off on her parents again, is she?"

Killian's eyes narrow, all pretense of calm vanishing. "I'd advise you against making assumptions when you don't know one bloody thing about what happened last night. Or Emma."

"How can you be so bloody irresponsible?" Liam snaps, his precarious grip on his temper failing. "What sort of example are you setting for Liam, sneaking all these women into your bedroom in the middle of the night?"

"Emma is not women," Killian growls back. "If you would stop being such a sanctimonious prick for a bloody—"

"I told you, Killian. I told you not to get involved with her. You have responsibilities to this family, and the last thing we need is someone else to take care of. After everything we've worked for, I refuse to watch some girl take advantage of you! I didn't want to hire her in the first place, but her mother insisted, and—"

"Watch yourself, mate. I've already said you haven't any idea what you're talking about." There's a dangerous glimmer in his eye, and they've had many arguments over the years, but Liam doesn't remember Killian ever taking such a vicious tone with him.

He doesn't care.

"It wouldn't be the first time a woman got the better of you," he taunts. "I'm simply looking out for your best interests, little brother." It's condescending, and Liam knows it, but he can't seem to make himself stop. Just once, he wants Killian to consider the consequences of his actions; just once, he wants him to stop being so bloody selfish.

"Leave her out of this." Killian slams his fist against the counter, the forgotten glasses rattling. "You bloody hypocrite! You think I don't know you've been sneaking around yourself? Just because you don't bring her here doesn't mean I don't know about Elsa."

Guilt floods through him all over again, but he tells himself it doesn't matter if Killian knows. Killian isn't the one he's trying to protect. "I don't bring her here," he snaps. "No one knows for this exact reason, you fool. Liam has had a hard enough time without rumors about his brothers. And what if he gets attached to one of them and it goes to hell? He already spends enough time with Emma."

"You're a bloody coward. If you think I have any intention of treating Emma like a dirty secret, you're out of your fucking mind." Killian pauses, hatred flashing in his eyes. "This conversation is over. I'm going back to bed. To Emma."

"We are not through," Liam starts, but Killian is already walking away, every muscle in his back rigid with anger. But he hasn't gotten far when Emma's quiet voice echoes around the empty staircase.

"I quit," she says, her eyes on Killian, her voice broken. It's then that she notices Liam, and he watches her lift her chin, the ice in her eyes so similar to the expression Killian leveled at him only moments ago. "Did you hear that?" she demands, her voice sharp and biting. "I quit. I'm not your problem anymore, because I quit." It's Killian's reach she shrugs off, but there's no mistaking Liam is her intended target, her eyes narrowed to vicious green slits.

"Emma, wait, I—"

"She wants to quit, let her quit," Liam cuts in, folding his arms and staring at Emma with scorn. Let her hate him; let Killian hate him. It's for their own good this ends now, before it gets worse. "I hear she's good at running away from her problems," he adds, because he's already being a bastard, so why not pour salt on the wound? He knows enough about Emma's past from her mother to know that the words will leave a mark, and he's not wrong.

Emma laughs, bitter and choked, but she returns Liam's scorn in kind. "We all have to be good at something, I guess," she says, the insult clear as she gives him one parting glare.

"Emma!" Killian lunges after her, but Liam is stronger, and he grabs his brother.

"Let her go," he says sternly, his fingers tight on Killian's arm. "She's not worth it."

The words haven't even left his mouth before Kilian's fist explodes into his jaw.

-x-

When he tries to cancel their lunch plans, Elsa turns up at his door.

"I know I'm not supposed to be here," she begins, but then her eyes land on his swollen jaw, a bruise already blooming on his chin. "But you sounded off on the phone, and I was right to worry, it seems. What the hell happened?"

"Killian," he says grimly, lifting the bag of frozen peas to his face once more, half to ease the pain in his jaw, and half to hide his relief at finding her on the other side of the door. The last thing he would have done is call her with a fresh bruise blooming on his jaw, especially considering the argument that led to it, but for one brief moment, he savors the peace her presence brings him.

"Your brother did that?" Elsa's shock pitches her voice high, but she shakes her head and sighs, leading him toward the couch. "I can't say I approve, but from everything I know of him…" She bites her lip, tentatively reaching for him and gently prodding the bruise. "Why?" There's an undertone in the question, a what did you do to deserve it that Elsa won't ask but Liam swears he sees lurking in her eyes.

"Emma spent the night," he begins, and he knows he's treading dangerous waters. Elsa and Emma are close, and though he's attempted to explain his feelings about Killian being with her, Elsa has never agreed with him. Liam thinks the two of them are a ticking time bomb; Elsa seems to have it in her head that Killian and Emma can somehow be each other's port in a storm. Even now, his initial statement brings a smile to her face.

"I knew it!" But her expression falls as she starts to put things together, and then she's shaking her head again, her shoulders slumping. "Liam, you didn't. Tell me you didn't."

"Afraid so." And then he tells her the whole sordid tale – well, nearly the whole tale. He leaves out the bit about Killian throwing their relationship back in his face; he leaves out the niggling voice telling him his brother has a point.

He firmly ignores the thought that for all his arguments against a relationship between Emma and Killian, there's no question of his younger brother's devotion to the girl; that for all the nights Liam and Elsa have spent together, he's never once displayed the sort of fierce loyalty toward Elsa Killian showed at the slightest hint of an insult toward Emma. He's been so worried about keeping a tight leash on himself, on keeping things from getting too serious, that every time he's found himself watching Elsa sleep or admiring her smile from across a room, he's shoved the feeling aside.

But when he's done explaining his morning, Elsa is silent. Somewhere in the middle of the story, she took his hand, and when he stops, she's staring at their twined fingers. "I…" She takes a deep breath, and then she brings her eyes to his, an odd combination of anger and sympathy residing in their depths. "I care about you. You know I do. But this…" She shrugs, gesturing vaguely, and Liam's throat tightens. "I've tried to give you space when it comes to your family. But if you have that much of a problem with Emma and Killian, I don't see how this...us…" Her smile is sad as she starts to pull away, her eyes glassy, and lord help him, he was never supposed to get attached to this woman but this hurts.

"You are not Emma," he responds instantly, but it's the wrong thing to say.

"No. And you aren't Killian." The way Elsa says it, it isn't a compliment. "Emma is like a sister to me, and you hurt her," she continues, and it's obvious by the hard line of her mouth she's struggling with her anger at him, at the situation – but she doesn't raise her voice. "The worst part is, I think you meant to hurt her this time. And maybe you didn't mean it, but you've hurt me too. All these months, I've tried so hard to see it from your side, to understand how your family has been through so much that you would want to be cautious, that we would take it slow when it came to them. But this just proves to me that's not at all what you meant – you never meant to make a place for me in your life." She doesn't yell, though Liam wishes she would; he would take her anger any day over the note of resigned despair that permeates her words and cuts him to the bone.

"That's not true. I–"

But she's already standing, and despite him jumping up to follow her, Elsa isn't having it. "I have to go, Liam." It's quietly said, but firm. "I don't know what exactly it is about Emma that you think isn't good for Killian, if it's her past or the bad decisions she's made along the way, but I know her. And even if she didn't let it show, quitting this job, walking away from Killian, that broke her. And now I need to go put her back together." She pauses, her hand already on the doorknob. "And you need to make it right with Killian."

She doesn't look back when he calls her name, and Liam, coward that he is, doesn't go after her.

-x-

The fact that Killian is avoiding him makes it easy to avoid little brother in turn, and for the first time in a long time, Liam doesn't think about his brothers – he thinks about himself. His disappointments. His pain. His life going down the pisser because of Killian's reckless choices.

And instead of playing on with the band, he crawls into a bottle of whiskey. And then another. And then another.

He's hunched over the kitchen table when Killian bursts through the door, but his brother doesn't so much as spare him a glance. And that rankles, because who the bloody hell does Killian think he is still being pissed that Liam hurt his precious feelings? Why doesn't Killian have to pull himself together and just get over it? That's what Liam's been doing his entire life.

Elsa walked away from him, and you don't see him going to pieces over it.

Liam stumbles up the stairs after Killian, nearly losing his grip on the railing and practically falling into Killian's bedroom. "Where are you going?" he slurs, seeing the bag open on the bed as his brother hastily throws a pair of jeans into it.

"There's a storm coming," Killian says without stopping, his tone murderous as he snatches two t-shirts and stuffs them into the bag along with the jeans. "There's a fucking storm coming, and Emma is two hours north of here in a bloody cabin without cell phone service because of you."

"And here you are, chasing after her just like I'm sure she planned."

"Fuck you, Liam." Killian spares his brother a vicious glare, yanking off his usual black t-shirt from the bar and hurriedly pulling on a clean shirt. "You don't know a thing about Emma. You haven't bothered to learn. Get out of my way."

"This is lunacy. What's to say you won't get stuck in the storm and–"

"Get out of my bloody way, brother. Worry about your own woman, aye? Perhaps after you pull yourself out of the bottle and have a shower," he adds nastily, picking up his bag. "Liam will be home from school soon. Wouldn't want to set a bad example for him, would you?" Killian spits out as his parting shot, shouldering past his brother.

Liam opens his mouth to argue, to tell Killian he can't leave, but the words won't come. Somewhere in the recesses of his drunken mind, Liam begins to realize that maybe Killian has a point – maybe when his brother called him a hypocrite that morning in the kitchen, he was right.

A cool shower and several cups of coffee help drag him out of the depths of inebriation, but the world is still hazy when the younger Liam comes through the door in a gust of cold air, the scent of snow following him. "You look like shit," he says without preamble, dropping his backpack into one chair and himself into another. "I went to the bar but it was closed. Where's Killian?"

When Liam can't summon up an adequate explanation, his youngest brother only shakes his head. "I've never met two more stubborn people in my life. I heard you guys fighting, you know. That morning Emma was here. And–"

"You knew she was here?"

To his surprise, the teenager laughs. "Even if I hadn't heard you fighting in the morning, I heard them come in late." He hasn't yet mastered Killian's innuendos, but it's clear from the face he makes that the youngest Jones heard more than the two of them walking up the stairs.

The eldest Jones sees red. "You shouldn't have to–"

"Know Emma makes Killian happy?" Liam looks so much like Killian in that moment, his eyes wide and clear and frighteningly honest. "You think he's setting a bad example bringing her here? I'd rather see my brother happy than trying to hide a relationship he thinks is going to mess me up somehow. C'mon, we have the same father. And I'm not a kid anymore."

Gaping at the lad half his age, Liam struggles with a response. The boy has a point, after all. When Liam was his age, he was listening to his parents alternate between loud fucking and louder fighting. If all their brother overheard was the better half of that equation, was that really such a bad thing? "When did you get so smart?" he asks wearily, dragging his palm over his face and realizing how badly he needs a shave.

"While you and Killian were busy fighting about Emma."

"This doesn't mean you can bring girls home," Liam warns, doing his best to adopt a stern tone while his head is already beginning to pound. "Killian is...an adult. You have plenty of time yet to grow up."

"Yeah, I know." The youngest Jones rolls his eyes, grabbing his backpack and heading for the stairs. "I've got homework. Will Killian be back for dinner?"

"He went to see Emma at her parents' cabin a couple hours north of here. He...didn't say when he'd be back, but he took a bag." Liam pauses, rubbing at his bleary and no doubt bloodshot eyes. "She makes him happy?"

The lad eyes him critically, but eventually nods. "If you weren't so against it, I think you'd see it too. Who are we to judge her for her past? We come from some pretty messed up circumstances." But when he reaches the foot of the stairs, one hand on the rail, he stops again, a tiny smirk so like Killian's on his lips. "And Elsa makes you happy. I don't know who you think you're fooling when she comes into the bar."

Liam stares at the empty staircase long after his brother has gone upstairs, dumbfounded.

-x-

"Just call her already." Liam looks up from his dark phone screen to meet his youngest brother's critical stare. "Elsa. Have you talked to her?"

"No."

"If Killian can drive into a blizzard after Emma, you can call Elsa."

He's right, of course. But Liam has to make dinner, and ensure littlest brother has finished his homework and has lunch packed for school in the morning. Besides, it's snowing, and while it isn't a blizzard, Elsa is likely tucked up in her house in front of the fire. He shouldn't interrupt her solitude. "It's supper time. Fancy anything in particular?"

Liam rolls his eyes like the teenager he is, pulling his phone out of his pocket and waving it at his older brother. "Killian isn't coming home. He texted me like an hour ago to say it's already snowing pretty badly and he's staying the night. You look like crap, but you should go see Elsa anyway. Maybe she'll feel bad for you if you grovel enough." He shrugs, like the matter is already decided, and flops back on the couch. "When I'm hungry, I'll make a sandwich."

"That's hardly–"

"Go!"

Eying his younger brother with a mix of concern and wonderment, it takes Liam a minute to realize the lad is right – and that the sting he feels at Killian not bothering to inform him of his whereabouts in a snowstorm is deserved. "I'll be back in a little while," he finally says, rising to his feet.

"See you in the morning."

Too tired to argue with the kid, Liam hauls himself upstairs for a clean shirt and a dose of aspirin, but still, he hesitates in the doorway, the younger Liam already intently focused on the TV. "Did Killian say anything else?" he finally asks, his fingers rising to nudge at the sore spot on his jaw, the bruise already yellowing.

"No. Quit stalling. You can talk to him yourself when he comes back."

When he comes back with Emma hovers unsaid between them, and Liam swallows hard at the dread the thought conjures, but if his brother is right about anything, it's that that is a problem for when they return.

It's snowing lightly when he steps outside, the brisk air biting his cheeks as he shoves his hands in his pockets and bends his head against the wind. It's a fifteen minute walk to Elsa's, and he probably should have just driven, but he wants the cold air on his face, wants the icy snowflakes to wipe the fog from his mind.

He's honestly surprised when Elsa answers the door, her hair in a long, messy braid with fuzzy, pale blue slippers on her feet. It's a side of her he rarely sees, but she holds the door wide after only the slightest hesitation. "Come in," she says softly, but she doesn't smile. "Leave your boots by the door so you don't track snow."

Liam nods, his confidence evaporating in the face of her cool reception. He knows full well that he can't leave half the contents of Storybrooke's sidewalks all over her house, but there's something about padding after her in his socks that makes him feel like a young boy about to be scolded.

The fact that she leads him into the kitchen to perch on one of the island stools rather than her couch doesn't help; she couldn't be more clear about how little she wants him to linger.

"I take it you know Killian went after Emma?" she says when he can't find the right words to begin. Anger simmers along in the question, anger and frustration and something else he can't quite place. "Ruby went to see him after she and I talked. I knew she would, you see. I would have gone myself, but given the circumstances…" Elsa shrugs, her eyes on the countertop as she fiddles with the end of her braid. "Anyway, why are you here?"

"Killian texted Liam to say he was spending the night."

"Good." She raises her eyes to his finally, but they burn with a savage dare to contradict her. "I hoped they'd get stuck up there together. They've been half in love with each other for awhile. They'll work it out."

"I suppose they will." Struggling not to fidget, Liam reaches out a hesitant hand, lightly touching Elsa's fingers. "And us?"

"What about us?"

"Do you think we can work it out?" He swallows hard, his throat inexplicably tight. "Can you...forgive me?"

Elsa sighs, but she lets him slip his fingers through hers, eying him thoughtfully as he brushes his thumb against the back of her hand. "Can you accept it's okay to have your own life?" she finally asks, her wide blue eyes focused entirely on him.

"I have a responsibility–"

"I'm not saying you don't," she cuts in before he can get any further, her frustration sharpening the words. "You and Killian own the bar together. Let him take on some of the responsibility of it. Let him help raise your brother. From the little bit I've seen, you take on too much, whether because you think you have to, or because you don't trust Killian for some reason you're going to need to explain to me."

Liam doesn't know exactly how to answer her, but he takes a deep breath and tries. "I raised Killian. Our father was useless. And then there we were, both in the military, and I love him, but I was relieved to be done being the adult. We could just be brothers again. His commanding officer was responsible for him. And then that bloody buzzard went toes up, and we discovered Liam, and a part of me was so angry that I had to start all over again, with the homework and the schools and the parent teacher conferences, and…" He stopped, shaking his head and cursing lowly under his breath. "I apologize, love, I–"

"Don't apologize." Elsa squeezes his hand, her smile wry. "I think that's the most honest thing you'd ever told me."

"I wouldn't change it, you understand? If I could go back, I'd choose my brothers every time," he says fiercely, and he means it. He's resented the hell out of Killian many times over the years, and he's hated his father for leaving him this mess, but other than some truly dark moments of despair, he's never really considered walking away. They're his family.

"I know. I raised my sister after our mother died."

"You never told me that."

"You never asked." She leans forward, kissing his cheek lightly to take the sting out of her words before sliding off her stool. "I was going to make tea. Would you like some?"

Liam starts to say yes, he would like some tea – he would very much like to stay a while, to be welcome in her home again. But he thinks of the teenager alone in the house on a snowy night, and he thinks about Killian storming down the stairs to go chase Emma down to the ends of the earth, and so he tugs lightly on Elsa's hand to get her to turn back around. "I left my brother alone," Liam says when he has her attention. "Would you...that is, do you mind...would you like to come over tonight?"

"To your house?" she asks, her voice carefully neutral.

"Aye."

"For tea or…?"

"For the night," he says firmly, getting to his own feet and dropping his hands to her hips. "If you want to, that is," he adds, his confidence waning in her silence despite the way she sways closer.

"We're not done talking about this." She arches her brow at him, her palms settling lightly on his chest as he pulls her closer. "But we can finish our conversation at your place, sure." Elsa stretches onto her toes, her lips gently brushing against his, and it's fast, and there's hardly anything sexual about it, but he feels her touch over every inch of his skin. "Just let me change and grab a few things."

Liam nods, releasing her and watching her go. She hesitates in the doorway, turning back to smile shyly at him, and tonight won't be the tenth or the hundredth time he's shared a bed with her, but there's something about this night that feels an awful lot like a first time.

And it won't be the last.

-x-

After they've shared a simple dinner with a smug teenager, the younger Liam retreats to his bedroom with a smirk for his brother, and Elsa makes good on her promise. And though Liam has dreaded this, returning to the subject of his anger and treatment of Emma, once they start talking, it really isn't so hard to keep going.

He's been involved with Elsa for nearly six months, but in that time, they've rarely spoken of anything serious. It's Liam's fault, really – his insistence they keep things casual, his refusal to open his heart to her. But faced with losing her, it's obvious that all of his efforts to hold her at arm's length haven't really worked, because now that she's here, in his home, holding his hand while he pours out a decade's worth of guilt and grief and frustration, he's glad of it.

And maybe it's because Elsa knows what it's like to raise a sibling – though her sister's solution to their parents' passing veers toward unfailing optimism where Killian has always been prone to brooding and self destruction – or maybe it's because in all these months of sharing a bed, Liam has revealed a part of himself he thought well hidden, but never once does he feel Elsa is judging him. It's clear she doesn't like how he's behaved toward Emma, and the deeper into the night they go, and the longer they talk, even Liam has to acknowledge he hasn't exactly given the lass a fair shake.

"I understand she's your friend, love, but...try to see it from my side of things. The last time Killian gave his heart away, I spent months trying to piece him back together. Even you have to admit your friend doesn't present the most secure of futures."

Elsa sighs, releasing his hand and leaning back into the couch cushions. Her feet are tucked up next to her, and if it weren't for the furrow of her brow, she would make a cozy picture. "From where I sit, neither does your brother," she finally says, holding up her hand as Liam starts to protest. "But I've never held it against him, because I think he understands Emma in a way neither of us ever will. She's different with him.

"You never met him, but Neal was a black hole in her life – he sucked all of the light from her, kept it for himself, but still, there was this pull he had on her. Emma loved him, but in that way where he was the center of her universe and all he did was take and take. She lost pieces of herself, you know? And I was really worried she'd never get them back.

"But when she's with Killian, he looks at her like she's the sun and the stars. He wants her to be the light, so he can share it, so he can be there with her. She smiles, Liam, and she laughs, and she's so much more like the Emma before Neal. Did Killian tell you about her birthday?"

Liam shakes his head, letting out a slow breath. "It's been some time since Killian has shared much of anything with me."

"Then I'll tell you. Ruby and I, we tried to convince her to take the night off, to go out with us down in Portland like we used to. Just to have a fun night. And she said no – because she didn't want to ask for the night off. She didn't want Killian to know it was her birthday, because she didn't want him to do anything special for her. But Ruby being Ruby, he found out anyway, and he somehow found a muffin and a candle after closing up for the night."

"Liam likes them for breakfast. He probably picked up a bag at the bakery before coming to the bar."

"Either way, that stupid muffin? That was more than Neal ever did for her. That's the kind of relationship she came out of. She'll kill me for telling you, but she came home with a black eye, and she's never admitted he did it, but I know Emma. If she did it to herself, she'd have told me, and she'd have laughed about it. So you're going to have to cut her a little slack for being skittish about trusting someone with her heart again."

"Is her birthday just before Halloween?"

"Yeah, why?"

Liam laughs quietly, scrubbing his palm over his face and smiling wryly at Elsa. "Killian has looked at her like she's a storm he'd happily sail into since the day he pulled her out of the harbor, but it wasn't until just before Halloween she started looking at him the same way. I wondered what changed."

"He proved how much he cared," Elsa says softly, lifting her eyes to his. "It's one thing to be wanted. Wanted is nice. But to be cared for…" She shrugs, her smile tinged with melancholy. "I don't know what happened that she ended up at your house that night with him, but knowing Emma, something had to have triggered it, made her feel safe with him. To wake up in the morning and have the rug pulled out from under her...I don't blame her for taking off."

"I suppose when you put it that way." He sighs, hesitantly reaching for Elsa, uncertain if she'll accept his touch in that moment, but she curls into him, leaning her head on his shoulder as he folds her into his side. "Is it so terrible I don't want to see Killian hurt again?"

"No, not at all. But it's not fair to Emma if your way of trying to protect him is to lash out at her. She's been told she's not good enough by plenty of people without you adding to it. Whatever happens between them, it's between them, Liam."

"And what happens between us?" he asks after a pause, toying with the end of her braid.

"What do you want to happen between us?"

"Did you ever feel...as though I thought you were...Killian accused me of treating you as a dirty secret."

Elsa doesn't pull away, but he can feel her nod against his shoulder. "Yeah," she whispers, her voice tight. "I don't think you meant it, but it was hard not to feel that way, sometimes."

"Bloody hell. I never meant–"

"I know."

"Why did you...why didn't you say something?"

"Because if something was going to change, it needed to be because you wanted it to, not because I guilted you into it," she explains quietly, leaning back to look him in the eye. "So do you?"

"I don't want you to ever feel as if I'm ashamed of being with you."

"That's not what I asked."

"I thought it a bit obvious, but I suppose after everything, I should be clear – I want to be with you, not just a few nights a week in your bedroom, but in front of my family and your friends. I'll never...I'm not Killian. I'll never be as...obvious...as he is with his affections, but I've been falling in love with you for a long time, Elsa. And I don't want to stop."

Liam catches a flash of her nod, her eyes shimmering in the low light, and then she kisses him. There have been a lot of kisses between them – needy, desperate things, the result of desires and lusts – but this is different. The need is there, but the desperate edge has been smoothed over, and as Elsa slips onto his lap, Liam can feel her smile against his lips.

-x-

Emma and I are moving into the apartment above the bar. Don't be a prick about it.

Liam blinks blearily at his cell phone in the early morning light, the message time stamped late the night before. Beside him, Elsa stirs, one blue eye cracking open to squint at him. "What time is it?" she asks, her voice thick with sleep as she snuggles closer, warm and soft against him.

"Just after seven," he answers distractedly, stabbing at his phone screen to call Killian as he fully sits up, sod it being so early. Of course, his brother's phone goes directly to voicemail. "Call me the moment you get this," Liam barks into the phone, hanging up and belatedly remembering he's been told there's no service at Emma's cabin.

"What's the matter?" Elsa's voice is still groggy, but she finds his hand and laces their fingers together. Beneath the quilts, she's warm, snug against him in one of his old Navy t-shirts and nothing else.

"Killian sent me a bloody text saying he and Emma are moving into the apartment over the bar." He sighs, tossing his phone onto the nightstand and pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. "Three days ago he was chasing her to the ends of the earth and now they're bloody moving in together? Into an apartment that's half bloody mine with no discussion? Bloody irresponsible–"

"Liam."

"We've been talking of renting the space as a source of income for Liam's college fund. And Killian thinks he can just–"

"Liam!" Elsa's sharp tone gets his attention, and it's then that he notices she's drawn herself up against the headboard, the quilt pooled at her hips and the t-shirt sliding off one shoulder. "Take a breath, all right?" When he nods, she offers him a small smile, laying her hand on his forearm and brushing her thumb against his skin. "Now, are you upset because they're moving in together, or because Killian made a decision about a property you own together without consulting you?"

"Both. He doesn't think sometimes, and it's–"

"Okay, but which one of those arguments do you think you have a prayer of winning without ruining your relationship with your brother?" Elsa reaches one hand up to the nearly faded bruise on Liam's jaw, lightly grazing his skin. "You're not his father, Liam. I know you've felt like you have been, but you're his brother, and he loves Emma. Think about who your brother is."

"I'm not allowed a bloody opinion because he loves her?"

"You're allowed whatever opinion you like – but berating Killian over this choice is not going to get you anywhere, and I think you know that."

Liam reluctantly nods, taking a long, deep breath and leaning his head back against the bed. "He still should have consulted me about the sodding apartment."

"And you can tell him that – calmly, when he's back in town, without insulting Emma or his choice to be with her." Despite Elsa's mild tone, Liam can hear the warning in her voice. They've talked about it a few times over the course of the last several days, and while he's still hesitant to trust her friend with his brother's heart, he's come to understand that Elsa accepts his reservations are his own, but she won't have him upsetting Emma any more than he already has.

As if she can hear his thoughts, Elsa adds, "And you can tell him that you think it's fast, that you're worried Emma will hurt him, but when he tells you that he disagrees, you need to leave it be, Liam. I think you're wrong about them, and you already know that, but if you're right, if it falls apart, don't you want Killian to feel like he can talk to you without getting a lecture?"

"Why do you make so much bloody sense?" he asks, shaking his head at himself and looping his arm around Elsa's shoulder, tugging her close enough to press a kiss to her temple and toy with her loose locks. It's rare for her not to have her hair tamed by a braid or some other restraint, and Liam can't help but savor these moments where it all falls around her shoulders in bright tumbles.

"Because you love me," she says lightly, tilting her head back with a sparkle in her eyes, her lips slightly parted. He hums his agreement, leaning down to kiss her, and for a little while, Liam loses himself in Elsa, his confession the night before wrapped around them snug as any quilt.

And maybe it's because he's finally admitted to himself as much as to her that he does love her, that the last six months haven't been just about their time between the sheets as much as he wanted to believe – that the early morning coffees and late night dinners and quiet nights curled together watching movies, they all meant something more than he'd wanted to admit.

Or maybe it's because in accepting that he wants a relationship with Elsa, he's accepting what she's been trying to tell him the last few days – that Liam can have a life outside of his responsibilities for the youngest Jones, that he doesn't need to, and shouldn't, constantly watch over Killian's shoulder.

But whatever it is, when Killian walks through the door several days later, his jaw tight and wariness in his eyes, Liam forces his shoulders down and his posture loose. "Where's Emma?" he asks as his brother closes the door behind him.

"At her parents' loft. She wanted to speak to them on her own." Killian hesitates, and it's hard for Liam to keep his face impassive as he watches his brother scratch behind one ear, a nervous tell he's had all his life. "We intended to speak to you together. I thought you'd be doing inventory...or whatever it is you've been up at this hour."

Liam nods, his glance sweeping over Killian as he ignores the jab. Despite the tension radiating off him, little brother looks otherwise good – at peace. "I wanted to be here when you got home. Look, about the apartment, I–"

It's as though Killian's fuse has been lit since before he walked in the door, and at the mere mention of the apartment, he explodes. "You've got some bloody nerve–"

"Allow me to finish, please." Liam waits for Killian's nod, shoving his hands in his pockets before continuing, "I do think it's a bit fast. I don't suppose you'd consider waiting until the spring?"

"No. Emma doesn't feel welcome here, and frankly, I'm not certain I do, either." Killian folds his arms across his chest, eyes narrowed and shoulders high.

"That's hardly true. Of course you're welcome here. It's your home."

"And Emma?"

Liam nods, swallowing against his apprehension. "Emma too."

"You owe her an apology."

"I do."

Killian eyes him skeptically, his surprise at Liam's easy agreement obvious. "You've changed your mind all of a sudden?"

He expected his brother's disbelief, and though Liam hardly wants to drag up the past, he knows that honesty is the only way out of this. "It's been my job to protect you since we were kids, little brother. Emma...Emma is a wild card. She could be the best thing that ever happens to you, or she could break your heart. You've had enough disappointments to last a lifetime." Taking a deep breath, Liam offers Killian a tentative smile. "But, as a wise woman recently told me, I'm not your father. I'm your brother, and if you believe Emma is the key to your happiness, then I will keep my reservations to myself moving forward."

"You don't know her like I do," Killian says quietly, and Liam is surprised to hear a hint of awe in his voice when he speaks of Emma, a bewildering wonder that has become frighteningly familiar in his own heart. "Besides that, things between her and I...she didn't want to come between us. If not for you...this would have happened a lot sooner." His tone has lost most of its bite, but Killian isn't subtle about his bitterness at Liam's role in all of this.

"She told you that?"

"I already suspected. She confirmed." Killian sighs, dropping his bag at his side and leaning back against the door. "Sometimes, you have to take a chance on people, Liam. Think with your heart instead of worrying so bloody much all the time. Things sort themselves out, eventually."

"I'm working on that."

His brother's eyes sweep over him, and his lips curve into a tiny smirk. "Elsa?"

Liam nods, unable to suppress his smile. "I suppose in a manner of thinking, I owe you thanks. If not for our...disagreement...I might have continued on in a similar manner with her until things were well beyond repair."

To his surprise, Killian simply laughs. "You've got to be blind not to see how she looks at you. I'm certain there's very little she wouldn't forgive."

"And you?"

"Consider yourself forgiven. Now, about the apartment…"

Liam POV by request for lenfaz.