Housewarming

"I really need my own place." - Emma Swan, 4x04

She breaks the news at breakfast.

"By the way, I've found a place."

Her parents look up and though she can tell by their slightly startled faces that they know what she means, she elaborates anyway.

"It's not far, just a couple of blocks from here actually, so I can still swing by and babysit Neal anytime you want." Her parents say nothing, and Emma hurries to fill the silence.

"800 square feet, 2 bedrooms, so Henry can have his own room. Hardwood floors, and after Boston I can't really complain about the rent..."

"That's great, Emma!" her mother says. Mary Margaret is doing an almost convincing version of delight.

"Yes, it is!" David adds. "We're both really happy for you."

Emma wishes her superpower weren't quite so powerful. She wants more than anything to believe her father, but she swears she can hear tension in his voice, an undernote of disappointment in her mother's.
"When do you move out? I mean, in?" Mary Margaret asks.

"Next week."

"Oh, so soon?"

"Yes, but once I'm unpacked I'm having a housewarming party, and you're all invited!"

"That... sounds like fun!"

Emma is beginning to wish she'd never brought any of this up. But what was the alternative? Sneaking out like a thief in the night, leaving a note propped on the dining table? No, this is better, however painful.

She shakes her head to clear it. She needs to spin this move as a good thing and it's too late to backtrack. She's already signed the lease.

"I can help you pack if you want," her mother says brightly.

"And I can move your stuff. There's a lot more space in the truck than in your little bug."

"Thanks Dad, but Hook has already said he'll help me."

"Oh, okay. Well, if you change your mind..."

"I'll know who to call." Emma smiles at her father, then takes a bite of toast. Her parents lapse back into silence. This is worse than she feared. She feels so guilty she wants to hug them both, just to break the tension, but that would accomplish nothing. Instead she looks conspicuously at the clock on the wall.

"Oh, I gotta go or I'll be late."

"You can drive in with me, Emma. We still have time," David assures her.

"I'm actually meeting Hook for coffee. Sorry, Dad. I'll see you at work, okay?"

She is up from the table and at the door in seconds and just catches her mother's "Have a nice day, sweetheart!" before she's gone.

The move itself goes fine, but if she's honest, that's mostly because she takes time off and moves her things out of her parents' place while Mary Margaret and David are at work so she doesn't have to deal with their offers to help. Even Killian, after a few quick trips to haul her meager possessions in her tiny car, is left standing at the door. She knows he wants to be let in, knows he would welcome the chance to help unpack the handful of boxes and happily eat pizza with her on the floor until her new furniture is delivered, but instead she dismisses him with an insufficient "thank you" and an even more insufficient explanation, "I have to do this on my own." Like her parents, he doesn't press her, and she gets her wish. She has her own place at last, but what should be a cause for celebration leaves her feeling sick at heart. What has she done, and why did she do it? The reasons, once so clear, are buried under the weight of some unfathomable mix of emotions and she is too confused to attempt to unearth them. When the evening of the promised housewarming rolls around, she's still all at sea, and when the doorbell rings, she is convinced this is the biggest mistake she's made since arriving in Storybrooke.

Regina and Henry are the first to show up, which Emma finds slightly disconcerting. She has been so convinced her parents would arrive first, she's been bracing for it all evening, and so she's momentarily thrown at the sight of her son and the mayor. Luckily she manages to summon a smile.

"Henry, Regina, come on in. Welcome." The box of doughnuts Regina holds out to her acts as a convenient buffer between them.

"Is Robin not coming?"

"Babysitting trouble. He'll be along as soon as he can get someone to stay with Roland."

"Oh, he could have brought him."

"Well, too late now." Emma's not sure if Regina is implying that she, Emma, was remiss in her invitation, but before she can puzzle over it any longer, the mayor says,

"Nice place you have here."

"Yeah, Mom, this is awesome!"

"Thanks, Henry. I'm glad you like it. Want to check out you room?" Henry races off to explore the rest of the apartment while Emma goes into the kitchen with the doughnuts.

"You didn't need to bring anything, you know," she tells Regina.

"No, but I wanted to. I was going to bring lasagne but these..."

"Are Henry's favorite," the two women say at the same time, and from across the room they meet each other's eyes and smile. While Emma is putting out napkins the doorbell rings again.

"Can you get it?" Emma calls to Regina.

"Well, well, well, look who it is," Regina says, and Emma turns to see her parents and Killian.

"You know, this is like the start of a joke," Regina observes. "Snow White, Prince Charming, and Captain Hook walk into a house party... "

"Just as long as I'm not the punch line," Emma interrupts, coming forward to meet them. Her father has balloons and champagne, her mother holds a white cake that reads Welcome Home Emma in red icing, and Killian has brought takeout from Granny's and a bottle of rum.

"Sorry we're late," David says.

You're not late. Henry and Regina were early. Hey, where's Neal?"

"Belle's looking after him."

"Okay, well, like I said, whenever you need a babysitter..."

"Of course, but tonight is your party," Mary Margaret smiles at her, and Emma feels the familiar guilt wash over her again.

"Come in, please!" Emma realizes they're still standing in the doorway, and she steps, embarrassed, out of the way. "Leave your coats wherever you want. Make yourselves at home."

They step inside and Emma takes the cake from her mother.

"That cake looks amazing, Mom. Thank you."

"Well, we had to have something sweet to celebrate your new home, Emma."

Emma's smile feels more and more forced, the corners of her mouth trembling.

"I'll just take this to the kitchen."

"Can we help with anything?" Mary Margaret asks.

"Nope, nothing at all!"

"Are you sure? I don't believe you've witnessed my superior champagne cork opening skills," David says.

"I'm good, thanks Dad. I'll be right back."

Emma heads to the kitchen. Killian trails behind her.

"Happy Housewarming, Swan."

"Thanks."

"Is that the right thing to say?"

"How should I know? I've never done this before." Her voice is sharp, irate, and she's instantly regretful.

"I'm sorry."

"You all right, Love? Need a swig of this?" He proffers the rum.

"I'd love some, but if I start now I'll never make it to the end of the night."

"That bad?"

She sets the cake down and turns to face him. "They look so let down."

"Who?"

"My parents. You saw their faces. They're trying so hard but I can tell how disappointed they are. They make me feel so guilty. Am I a terrible person for leaving them before they're ready?"

"No," he assures her. "You're not a terrible person. You're a grown woman who needs her own space. They have another child. They'll survive."

She knows he means it kindly, but she feels slightly envious at the thought of Neal alone with them, sole receiver of their love and attention. She will be the daughter who left, who went away, who abandoned them just when they were all finally starting to feel like a family. She shakes her head.

"I change my mind. Give me that drink."

"Starting early, are we?" Regina has joined them. She leans languidly over the bar, propping herself up on an elbow.

"Don't judge," Emma says. "This party is awkward."

"I'm not judging," Regina insists. "But if you think this party is awkward, it's only because you're making it that way."

"What? How?"

"You're making sad puppydog eyes at everyone, like you have something to apologize for. Honestly, you're as bad as Guyliner here."

"Oh, please!" Emma begins, but Regina cuts her off.

"You're the damn hostess. Act like it! This is a party, not a funeral."

"Well pardon me if I didn't go to fancy royal hostessing school."

"Swan, I don't think that's really a thing..."

Emma is about to snap at him again, but she catches herself and takes a deep breath. Regina is right. She's behaving ridiculously.

"I'm sorry. I just feel like I've betrayed my parents in some way. Like their love and their generosity sharing their home with me wasn't enough."

"Emma, your parents are many things, but they are not selfish. I am certain they don't think you've betrayed them just because you moved out."

"But we were apart for so many years..."

"And now you're not." Regina says it so simply, so matter-of-factly, that Emma recognizes it at once as truth. "You know what, Emma? I think this move frightens you much more than it does them."

"But I was the one who chose this. Why would it frighten me?"

"Maybe because it's a sign you're ready to move on?"

"Move on? But I'm not..."

"With your life. With taking your next step toward your own happy ending. Whatever that might be."

Emma nods. "Okay." Almost involuntarily she glances at Killian, who flashes her a cocky grin. "Okay." She takes another breath and smiles. It's easier this time. "Any other insights, Dr. Freud?"

"Just a question. Will you open that rum already? All this straight-talk is making me thirsty." Regina looks at them dead-pan. Killian quirks an eyebrow.

"I thought you didn't do rum."

"Maybe I've changed." Regina gives a slow smile, and Emma laughs.

"Drinks all around!" Killian announces, and while he's pouring, Henry reappears and asks,

"Hey, can I have some?"

The three adults all speak at once.

"Absolutely not!" Regina says firmly.

"I don't think so, kid," Emma says, more kindly.

"Fine by me," offers Killian. The resulting commotion brings the Charmings in from the living room and before Emma knows it, her mood has lifted as if by magic. As a term of his appeasement, Henry is allowed to choose the music, and his selection – an upbeat dance tune – seems to put a spring in everyone's step. Robin arrives with apologies and a six-pack of ale, the food is put out and the cake is cut, her father opens the champagne with great flourish and to laughing applause, and the balloons drift around, catching the light. The apartment, which mere hours before had seemed empty, mired in gloom, finally feels as it should – like a home.

Later, as the the party is starting to wind down, Emma emerges from the bathroom and catches her parents talking quietly to each other in the corner of the living room. She doesn't mean to linger but they are leaning against each other in the casual, yet intimate way that she has always regarded with awe and sometimes even a little envy, and she doesn't want to interrupt this obviously private moment. Their conversation is conveniently amplified to an audible level by the acoustics of her sparsely furnished hallway and though she had not intended to eavesdrop, she finds herself doing just that.

"Of course I'm sad that she won't be living at home anymore," her mother is saying, "but honestly I'm surprised she stayed as long as she did."

"What makes you say that?" Her father asks.

"Well what 30-year-old woman with a very new and very serious boyfriend wants to stick around her parents' open-plan and very un-soundproof apartment?"

"I take your point."

"Emma deserves this. Close to her family but not too close, and her own."

"I just wonder how long this will really be Emma's own place."

"What do you mean?" Her mother turns to look at him and Emma shrinks back into the shadows, trying to remain hidden.

"In case you haven't noticed, Hook seems awfully at home here." He nods toward the kitchen where Killian is busy loading up the dishwasher.

"Oh, David, he's just helping. He's helpful. I'm sure Emma appreciates it."

"I'm sure she does. But how long before that appreciation becomes an invitation to move in?"

"Would that really be so bad?"

David sighs. "It's not what I wanted for her. Neal was one thing, the son of the Dark One, but an outlaw..."

"I thought you had a soft spot for outlaws. You married a bandit after all," Mary Margaret reminds him, smiling.

"A bandit who was also a princess," David corrects. "Hook is a pirate."

"He's who our daughter chose. We have to respect that."

"I know. And I do."

"David, I understand where you're coming from, believe me. He's not the man we dreamed of for her. But he's who's here, and I truly believe he cares for Emma. Surely even you can't have failed to see the way he looks at her."

"Like she's the most precious thing in the world? Yes, I've seen it. I recognize that look, that feeling."

"Well then."

"Look. I'm not saying I dislike the guy. As you said, he cares about Emma and he's turned his life around for her, which is more than I would have thought him capable of a year ago. When I think about some of the things he said to me in Neverland, it's hard to believe he's the same man."

"He saved your life in Neverland."

"True." David ponders this for a moment. "Maybe that was the beginning."

"So what's the problem?"

"I'm just having trouble accepting the idea of Hook as my son-in-law. But give me time..."

"Son-in-law? Aren't you getting a little ahead of yourself?"

"I don't think so, no. I'm in no kind of denial about what this move means. For Emma, for Hook. They're ready to take things to the next level, I see that."

"Well that's very perceptive of you, Honey, but I'm not sure Emma sees it that way."

"Maybe she hasn't admitted it to herself yet, but she does. Hook certainly does, that's obvious."

"If you say so. And don't you think it's about time we started calling him Killian?"

"That'll take some getting used to, but if it makes you happy, I'll try."

"Thank you."

They turn back to the kitchen, where the subject of their conversation has finished tidying up and now is pretending to pull a coin out of Henry's ear.

"He's good to Emma