Seeing Killian during filming the next day was extremely awkward, but once they wrapped and he and Liam left, Emma sighed with relief. Within about five minutes, she and her workers were dragging the deck materials out to the backyard, ready to get started on a project that realistically should take twice as much time as they had left.

She tried not to think about what had happened last night, throwing herself into as much of the work as possible to distract herself. But it wasn't easy to do. Originally, she'd wanted to finish up the master bathroom; she'd been so proud of herself for figuring out the problem, and since the space was so eerily similar to her own bathroom, it almost felt like she was giving Killian a little piece of herself as a gift.

And now that was way inappropriate to be feeling, given that they'd locked lips. And that she'd enjoyed said lip lock.

At first, she set to work on the spare room, reasoning that the outdated wallpaper and poorly finished hardwood would keep her mind off of what happened. They didn't. The now empty room smelled like Killian. No wonder Mary Margaret had instantly known the man had been at their apartment; Emma had grown accustomed to his scent, but in a small room that he'd been living in for a month, it was overwhelming.

Next, she tried to redo the tile the downstairs bathroom and start painting the walls. But the tile and paint was the same as what they'd selected for the master bathroom, which got her thinking about the double sinks and Killian and everything he'd told her—

Then she tried the office, but she just thought about how he could sit and relax at his desk, looking out at the view—

In the bedroom, she could imagine him waking up every morning—she could imagine waking up beside him—

In the kitchen, she couldn't stop thinking about how together, they'd accidentally picked the same cabinets she had in her apartment here in Maine. In the living and dining area, she was right there, next to the French doors, where she'd sat with him as the walls separating homeowner and general contractor had crumbled down. And the deck, the surprise from Liam, the promise she was so happy she got to keep, was just as difficult to work on.

Was there a single room in this fucking house that she could be in without thinking about him?

She resigned herself to finishing the downstairs bathroom. It was the least painful room to be in, even if she remembered, every so often, that Killian had been in here, naked in the shower.

Eventually, the bathroom was done, and she had to move on. With the majority of the trades working on the deck, there was plenty left to do in the house, although someone had helpfully finished up most of the kitchen. She finished putting on the last few doors and drawer fronts before sucking up her fear and discomfort and heading upstairs to finish the master bathroom.

At least, she told herself as she surveyed her work at the end of the day, it didn't look identical to her own bathroom. The color scheme was different enough; she'd been more daring with the tile patterns in her own tub surround, and she had a red accent wall and a more ornate mirror. This bathroom was much more to Killian's tastes. And it was done; with one last sad glance at the double sink, her triumph, she went to work on the master closet. At least that was less emotionally fraught.

By the time Mary Margaret arrived, a few days before the end of the renovation, the only work that was still on-going was the deck, and Emma had gotten maybe three hours of sleep a night. It wasn't that she was working the entire time; she forced herself to call it quits by ten o'clock every night at the latest. But then she'd go home and think about the house, and Killian, and the kiss they'd shared, and then she wouldn't sleep.

It didn't help that she'd been dreading this final stage of the renovation. She was always a little ambivalent about it anyway. On the one hand, it was a lot of fun to set up the space, and to actually make the house feel like a home, ready to be lived in. On the other hand, she felt really weird going through people's stuff. As she'd told Killian, she and Mary Margaret didn't go through clothing or toiletries or anything. But they usually used lots of kitchenware and decor and furniture, and Emma always felt like a snoop.

The fact that she was going to be handling so much of Killian's stuff, though, made it even worse.

They started with the kitchen, putting away dishes, with Mary Margaret arranging everything in the cabinets with well-practiced precision. Every so often, she'd have to rearrange dishware or glassware, having misjudged what would fit in each cupboard. But she'd been doing this for so long, it was like she had a sixth sense for where each and every plate and glass and fork needed to go. Emma would either stand back and watch, or hand over pieces of kitchenware one at a time while her sister put everything in the perfect place.

As Emma worked on setting up the guest bedroom, which now (mercifully) smelled like a freshly painted room instead of Killian, Mary Margaret set the handmade dining table, which was surrounded by chairs Emma had found at an estate sale, and then refinished and reupholstered herself. Her sister, remembering Killian's simple and traditional tastes, didn't overdo the table settings; Emma was grateful that she didn't have to give her a reminder.

The couch hadn't yet arrived (Mary Margaret had all but shouted at the furniture supplier, who had agreed to rush shipping at no extra cost so it would arrive before Killian and Liam did), and so the sisters headed upstairs. When the bedroom set had been delivered, the delivery men had set it all up, and so Emma took the opportunity to work on the office while Mary Margaret took over the bedroom decor.

Good. She couldn't handle making that bed. Not when she couldn't stop thinking about waking up in it with him.

God, she had to stop thinking about him like that. It was just one kiss! One kiss, and she'd even stopped it there! She'd said no, said it wouldn't happen. Rejected him. Ended things before they could start. So why was she still hung up on him? Why was she hung up in the first place?

She needed to focus. She set up the desk as best she could, leaving room for his laptop (thirteen inch Macbook Air—why did she remember that?). She took her time dragging the potted plant from the backyard up the stairs, reasoning that she didn't want to damage the newly finished wood. She tested the blinds a few times, telling herself that she just had to make sure they wouldn't get caught on the desk. As she'd planned, the desk sat before a window that essentially took up the entire wall that faced east, towards the harbor. She wanted the desk as close as possible to the glass "wall" without getting in the way of the blinds.

She spent too long setting up the bookshelf. After all, she wanted the books to look organized, which meant she needed to consider authors, genres, book size, color, and style. That was her excuse for poring over each book, and thinking about why Killian owned it. He had a mix of almost everything: both classic and contemporary literature, a little bit of mystery and science fiction, plenty of non-fiction—lots of variety there, too—and of course, books about sailing. She grinned every time she saw a book that she also owned, or had read and loved.

The sun was setting by the time she finished, and she hadn't yet put up anything on the walls. She headed into the hallway, reluctant to actually go into the bedroom. "How's it going, Mary Margaret?"

"Almost done—well, except for hanging stuff up. Want to do that tomorrow?"

"Sure."

"Great." Her sister exited, shutting off the lights as she did. Emma was relieved that the room was now a little too dark for her to see more than just shapes of furniture. "So we'll do that and the living room, and then we'll straighten up the garage." The garage was, of course, a fucking mess of half-filled boxes and unopened ones. They would need to finish staging the house before consolidating the stuff they didn't use, resealing the boxes, and stacking them up with the rest of Killian's belongings.

"Sounds good."

"Wanna grab dinner at Granny's?"

Emma moaned. "Yes! Can we do pick-up, though? I desperately want to take my shoes off, and I don't think the owner will approve of that."

Within an hour, Emma was comfortably sitting on her own couch, sans shoes, waiting for Mary Margaret to bring over a bunch of napkins so they wouldn't accidentally destroy the living room with their greasy food. "This is the best thing to happen to me in weeks," Emma said, groaning at the smell of onion rings.

"Really?" Mary Margaret asked skeptically. "I thought the renovation was going well. It looks like it went well."

"Thanks," Emma replied sincerely. "It only looks like that because I've barely slept these past couple weeks."

Mary Margaret grimaced. "True. I've noticed. Are you okay? Is it just normal reno stress?"

Emma shifted uncomfortably. "No," she admitted quietly.

Mary Margaret instantly snapped to attention. "What happened?"

"Killian told me what happened—what he put in the letter, I mean."

Mary Margaret's mouth turned into an "O" for a moment before she nodded and spoke. "About his wife's ex-husband?" she asked. "And what she made him promise?"

"Yep. He saw the double sink and got upset. I thought he was mad at me, since I changed the plan without his permission, but he was mad at himself. And then he just … just told me everything."

"I know what you're thinking, Emma."

"Really?"

"I do. He promised his wife that he'd move on and find a new home. You probably think he's implying he wants to make a new home with you. I know it might feel that way, because it's very poetic, and you're literally building a new home for him—"

"He kissed me."

"What?"

"He told me all that stuff, and then he kissed me."

Mary Margaret practically fell into the couch, disbelief all over her face. "Okay, wow. I didn't expect that. Ignore what I just said. What happened?"

"I told him we couldn't. I let him know he needed to get ready to leave the next day. He tried to get me to let him drive me home because I was tired, but he'd been drinking, so I told him no. And then I left. I didn't talk to him really at all outside of filming, either. Just like … good morning, are you all set to leave today, we'll see you in a week, et cetera."

"Well, damn. I owe David fifty bucks."

"Seriously?"

"Sorry."

"So you're still seeing him? I know I haven't been around much to ask."

"Yeah, I mean, he and his wife agreed they could see other people. And he's sort of decided he doesn't care what happens to him professionally." Mary Margaret smiled a little. "It's a little overly sweet and noble, but I kind of like it. I don't want him to piss Regina off, especially since he'd probably have to go back to LA to find work if she fires him or doesn't renew his contract. But the whole, 'I don't care! I just want to be with you!' bit is nice."

Emma grinned, in spite of her own emotional turmoil. "I'm glad. It was getting really annoying watching you two flirt and not do anything about it."

"I'm not sure it'll be any better when we film," she admitted with a sly grin. "It's hard to keep our hands off each other, even when we might get caught. Especially when we might get caught."

"Nope, too much info," Emma protested.

Mary Margaret sighed happily before digging into her burger. "So what are you going to do?"

"What's there to do?" Emma asked around a mouthful of onion ring. "We can't date."

"We're almost done with his episode."

"So?"

"So, what, do you think the terms apply after he's all done with the show? Are you not supposed to ever date or something?"

"Stop it. I'm allowed to date, just not guys from the show. It's inappropriate and you know it."

"What, so if we finish filming, and then like … five years down the line, you bump into him, you're not allowed to fraternize?"

"But it's not five years down the line. It's now."

"Maybe you should talk to Regina."

"Regina's going to kill me."

"True. But your other option is to just do nothing, pine after him and let him pine after you, and then spend the rest of your life with him as your what-if guy."

"That's fine."

Mary Margaret snorted. "Look, I know after what happened with Neal, you're not looking to jump into a relationship headfirst. But you clearly like him. I doubt you'd have let him get work done here, or felt as guilty over the whole deck fiasco, if you didn't."

"That doesn't matter, and you know it. Can we stop talking about this, please? It's not like this just happened tonight."

"Fine."

The next morning, bright and early, she and Mary Margaret finished staging the house. There had been a painful moment when Emma uncovered a large canvas photo of a woman she just knew was Milah. Finding it didn't hurt because of jealously. Instead, she just felt overwhelming sadness: here was the woman who had fought so long and hard to be with Killian, making her own sacrifices to ensure they had a life together. And even as she was dying, she insisted that Killian move on and find happiness again.

She wished she could have met her.

The couch arrived mid-afternoon, the last piece of anything that had to be set up inside. The deck was built, and they just had to wait till tomorrow morning for the stain to dry. The deck furniture—a table with an umbrella and a set of chairs, a couple of lounge chairs, and a grill that had been on sale—was in the garage, already unwrapped and set up, ready to be carried out.

As a truck came and took away the giant dumpster that had been sitting in the driveway for the past six weeks, Regina called. "How is everything going?"

"Fine. We just finished up. Truck's hauling away the trash as we speak."

"Excellent!"

"Well, I mean, we do have to set up the deck tomorrow morning, but we'll have plenty of time before we film."

"Good. It's nice that we were able to keep the deck. Listen, do you mind dropping by the office before you go home? I need your opinion on a renovation for another show—the network asked for you specifically."

"Oh." That was very flattering. "Sure, I can be there in thirty minutes."

"Great. I'll see you then."

"What's up?" Mary Margaret asked.

"Regina wants me to come take a look at some stuff—the network asked for me, apparently."

"That's awesome!"

"Yeah, I'm gonna head over there. Wanna come with me?"

Mary Margaret shifted her weight back and forth a bit on her feet. "I would, but …"

"David?"

"Yeah. Sorry, is that okay?"

Emma shrugged. "You know that I don't disapprove. Besides, Regina didn't say she expected both of us." She smiled and gripped her sister's shoulder reassuringly. "I'll see you at home, okay?"

Mary Margaret returned her grin. "See you there."

When Emma got to the office suite, Regina quickly ushered her into her own private office. "We're not going to the design room?" Emma asked. "Wouldn't that be easier?"

"Sorry, I lied," Regina said apologetically.

"What? Why?"

"I wanted to talk to you privately about some issues that have come up."

Emma froze in her seat. Oh god, oh god, oh god.

"Mary Margaret had been a little … off lately. I think she's avoiding me; whenever we've met about the next episodes, she barely talks to me and leaves right away. Did I do something wrong?"

"No, of course not," Emma replied. "Look, if you think she's upset, why don't you ask her?"

Regina tapped a pen against the desk, contemplating something. "Because that's not the only thing I wanted to talk to you about, and I thought it would be an easier conversation in person."

Emma could hear a roaring in her ears. "Okay, well … what is it?"

"Killian Jones approached me about his contract a couple weeks ago. He had some very specific questions about it, and the whole conversation was really intense."

"What kinds of questions?"

"About all the rules prohibiting him and his brother from spending time with either you or Mary Margaret socially. He was especially curious about what he referred to as a 'statute of limitations' once the episode was finished, and what sorts of penalties you or Mary Margaret might incur if the contract were violated."

Regina sighed heavily. "Look, Emma, I don't want to throw around accusations here, but if Mary Margaret and Killian are involved, this could be a really serious problem. I don't mind hiding it from the network, but I am a bit concerned. I remember what happened with Walsh."

"Regina, Walsh was a stalker," Emma reminded her. "You know I did nothing to encourage him at any point. We didn't really adjust the contract all that much after he was on the show, but he would have ignored the new rules anyway."

"Fair enough. Look, we just have one more day of filming, so they just need to keep it under wraps until that's done. Then, we can all pretend that there was nothing going on between them until the episode was finished; the network won't be able to do anything, and we can spin it as a cute love story to boost ratings. Maybe even do a special down the line if things work out."

On the one hand, Emma felt a tiny flicker of hope. Regina's reservations only seemed to extend as far as the episode, which meant that there was an end to when the contract applied to Killian. But on the other hand—

"Mary Margaret's seeing David," she blurted out. "That's why she's been avoiding you. She knows you're friends with his wife."

Regina stared at her in shock for a full five seconds before laughing. "Wait, really?"

"Yeah!"

"Why didn't she say anything?"

"Like I said, you're friends with his wife, so …"

"Well, I mean, true, she's definitely getting me in the divorce, as it were. But I can't believe Mary Margaret thought I'd be upset over it!"

"After what happened with me and Neal? Or you and Robin?"

Regina's laughter faded a bit. "This is different from Neal. David didn't lie about being married, and if we're being honest, I was glad to fire Mr. Cassidy. And I thought she knew I'd forgiven her for what happened with Robin."

"She still feels guilty, I guess. I know you guys got in a lot of trouble with the network."

"And besides getting reprimanded by the network heads, nothing happened to us," Regina reminded her. "Robin and I now produce two of the most highly rated shows they've got, and now they want to feature us in the magazine."

"That's great!"

Regina frowned. "If Mary Margaret's seeing David, then why did Killian Jones approach me about the contract?"

It was the moment of truth—Emma could come clean, or she could keep hiding. "I guess he didn't know she was seeing someone already," she said, hating herself for every word that came out of her mouth.

"I see." Emma could tell from Regina's expression that she wasn't buying the story, but at least she knew better than to press further. "Well, anyway, can you let your sister know that it's okay if she's dating David? She doesn't have to hide it. It's not even as though it'll affect the divorce proceedings; Kathryn has a boyfriend anyway."

"Yeah, I'll tell her when I get home. I'll see you during editing?"

"Sounds good."

It was all she could do to drive responsibly as she raced home, trying to process what she'd been told.

She'd just spent the past week telling herself that nothing could happen with Killian. She'd rejected him hard during their last real conversation. And now she found out that it was a possibility when she'd spent so much time talking herself out of it?

This just wasn't fair. She hadn't even been thinking about him like that until he'd kissed her. Sure, she'd always thought he was handsome and charming, and yeah, she was maybe going above and beyond trying to give him his dream house. She couldn't imagine letting another homeowner use her apartment, but it had just sort of happened with him.

And there was the deck promise and the double sink in the master bath, and how many pieces of furniture he'd picked out that she'd loved, and the kitchen cabinets, and how badly she'd wanted him to pick this house …

This had never happened before. It hadn't happened with the other single homeowner who wasn't Walsh (Graham had been nice, and there had been light flirting, but it was just … that). It hadn't happened with any of the married homeowners who'd hit on her, or who were handsome, or who'd had sob stories.

She'd never spent two hours reading over contracts so she could let someone use her internet.

Jesus fucking Christ, what had she gotten herself into?

When she got home, Mary Margaret was putting the finishing touches on a grilled chicken salad. "Hey, how did it go?"

Emma figured beating around the bush wouldn't be the best course of action here. "Regina actually thought you and Killian were hooking up. Is there enough salad for both of us?"

"What? Yes. What?"

"Great, thanks." She grabbed a plate and held it out for Mary Margaret to scoop salad onto. "Yeah, she'd noticed you were avoiding her."

"Why would she assume I was hooking up with Killian, though?"

"Apparently, he asked about the contract. How long the whole 'no fraternization' thing lasted. She put two and two together, just the wrong two and two, I guess." She grabbed a fork and plopped herself down at the dining table, trying to ignore the fact that it was the same chair Killian had sat in.

"Well, did you tell her?"

"Tell her what? That Killian was asking about me, or the real reason you were avoiding her?"

"Either? At least that she knows I'm not seeing Killian."

"I … may have told her about David."

Mary Margaret dropped into the chair across from her, looking like she'd just been told she had a terminal illness (no no no don't think about that, don't think about how Milah died, and made him promise—). "You told her." It wasn't a question.

"Yeah. She doesn't care. She asked me to tell you that it was fine with her. Apparently, David's wife has a boyfriend of her own anyway. Everyone's fine—no one cares."

"Oh." Mary Margaret blushed. "Okay."

"You don't have to sneak around now, at least. That's good, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah!" Her sister seemed to realize that this was a good thing. "Sorry, I was just expecting the executioner, you know."

"You're totally in the clear. Bang away."

Mary Margaret blushed and rolled her eyes. "Anyway, so Killian asked about the contract? Did you tell her why?"

Emma fidgeted. "No, I chickened out. I just said he probably didn't know you weren't single."

"Did she say anything, though? Like, how did she react to it?"

"To him asking?"

"Yeah."

"She said that I should tell you guys to keep it in your pants until we were done with the episode."

"Done filming? Done editing? Done airing?"

"Filming."

"That's tomorrow."

"I know. She said that she'd just spin it like you started dating afterwards."

"You mean you."

"I don't even know," she admitted.

Mary Margaret shrugged. "Well, you'll see him again tomorrow. If you don't decide by then, it's not like we'll mysteriously lose his contact information."

That was true. She could just keep his cell phone number in her phone. And she had his address; she'd memorized it after having so much stuff shipped there. And she had access to his application, even now; his email address was right there, easily found.

This was good, then. She could just wait it out. This was just a crush, after all, for both of them. She was getting swept up in his tragic backstory, and he was associating her with the new home he'd promised to find just because she was the one building it. After filming was done, they'd go their separate ways and two or three weeks later, while she was neck deep in the next episode, she would realize she'd all but forgotten about Killian Jones.

The deck was set up, looking nice and relaxing with the great outdoor furniture. The garage had been tidied, with all the boxes consolidated, resealed, and stacked neatly off to the side with the labels facing outward. There were fresh flowers in a vase by the door, fresh fruit in a bowl on the kitchen peninsula, and a few snacks, staples, and treats in the refrigerator and the pantry cupboard. There were candles lit in the master bathroom, and all the plants had been watered.

It was ready.

Emma and Mary Margaret finished filming their, "Oh no, they're here and we're not done!" clip about an hour before the brothers were scheduled to arrive, and then headed out onto the deck to relax a bit. The crew would be filming the rest of the house while it was still empty and untouched by the brothers Jones.

Mary Margaret had bought a ton of fresh lemonade from a nearby farmstand, and she'd excitedly poured it over ice into four collins glasses. Emma didn't bother to ask where the straws and cocktail umbrellas came from. Or the little tray the glasses sat on.

Either way, they each grabbed one of the glasses and got comfortable on the lounge chairs. "You did a great job, Emma."

"Thanks. You can thank Liam for the deck."

"You would have found a way."

"I wish. The balcony would have been too tiny."

"True." They were quiet while they sipped their lemonade. "Do you know what you're going to do yet?"

"Nope."

"Fair enough." More quiet. "I think you should go for it."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Then you guys can invite me over and I can chill on the deck."

"Oh, gee, thanks."

"No problem."

After a lemonade refill for each of them, and then the realization that they were going to get badly sunburned, they headed back inside; Mary Margaret produced some washi tape and a silver sharpie, which she used to make little flags on the straws, labeled with their four names. "Clever."

"I'm extremely clever," Mary Margaret agreed.

"Very true." It was David, making his way downstairs with the rest of the crew. "We're all set, by the way."

"Did you tell him?" Emma asked her sister. Mary Margaret shook her head.

"Tell me what?" David asked suspiciously.

Mary Margaret sighed, but she clearly couldn't help her shy grin. "Uh, Regina found out about us," she said gently. "It's okay—apparently she doesn't care. And Kathryn's seeing someone, too."

"Oh," David said. "Are you sure she's okay with it?"

"She laughed when she found out you were worried," Emma told him.

"In that case," he said, before striding up to Mary Margaret, embracing her, and kissing her passionately.

"Okay, did not need to see that, thanks."

"Sorry," Mary Margaret said breathlessly as she broke the kiss. "All right, I guess we'll get our hair and make-up touched up. What time is it?" she asked David.

"Nearly noon. The guys should be here any minute." Emma's stomach swooped unexpectedly before Mary Margaret dragged her out to the make-up van for touch-ups.

If Emma asked for a little bit more eyeliner and lipstick than usual, or was pickier about her hair, Mary Margaret didn't mention it.

"Good afternoon, ladies." While they'd been in hair and make-up, the brothers had pulled up, parking one behind the other. Liam led the way. "We're thrilled to see the house."

"Aye, I'm glad this process is over," Killian said dourly. His attitude reminded Emma of their first couple of days filming, and her heart sank.

"Well, we're really pleased with how the house turned out. Are you ready?"

"Absolutely," Liam said, his smile a little forced. When he turned to look at Emma, she could tell why: she'd upset his little brother, after all.

"Hey there," David said, coming over and getting their attention. "We're so excited to show you the house—you are going to absolutely love it. These ladies did an amazing job, and you're barely going to recognize it."

"I was living here, mate," Killian reminded him.

"I know," David said. "And you still won't recognize it. Anyway, we're going to get started, filming you guys walking up to the house and commenting to each other about how you're feeling about seeing the finished product. Okay? Then we'll film you opening the door, but this time, we're going to have a curtain up so you won't be able to see anything."

"So this will be a real surprise?" Liam asked a little sarcastically, clearly recalling the first house they'd looked at.

"Yep. Ready to start?"

"Aye," Killian said, taking a deep breath. "Let's get it over with." David turned and lifted an eyebrow questioningly at Mary Margaret and Emma, but they both just shrugged. It wasn't like they could talk about what had happened. Instead, the Jones brothers walked a ways down the sidewalk, and Emma and Mary Margaret headed inside the house, making sure the curtain was set up properly.

"Do you want to say, 'Welcome home?'" Mary Margaret asked. They usually traded off.

"No," Emma said softly.

"Okay." Mary Margaret paused. "I'm sorry he's acting like this."

"Me, too." She'd thought that seeing him would just feel like, oh, okay in the light of day with plenty of sleep I'm not feeling it anymore. But now, refreshed and alert, it was even worse than before, and now he was mad at her. It felt like shit.

All too soon, it was time for the reveal. The curtain was taken down and put back into the van, the brothers stood on the front steps, David and Leroy stood in the foyer, and Emma and Mary Margaret stood at the door. "You open it," Mary Margaret said gently, Emma complied. "Welcome home, Killian," Mary Margaret said, and the men stepped through.

"Bloody hell," Killian said, all anger leaving his face, replaced with awe.

"Wha—is this the same house?" Liam asked. For once, his typical "Fix-It Sisters" line sounded entirely genuine.

"Come on, let's show you around," Mary Margaret said, taking Killian by the arm and pulling him in further, with Liam following.

As usual, the compliments were overflowing. This was totally normal; after weeks of seeing a house mid-renovation, and knowing what it looked like beforehand, homeowners invariably gushed over even the tiniest details of their new homes. But it just felt so much bigger, more important, more sincere, hearing everything that Killian was saying.

First, he looked at the downstairs bathroom; if he was underwhelmed by the superficial changes, he didn't let it show. He was very surprised at the spare room, though, as it looked nothing like it did when he was living in it. With a light paint on the walls, new lamps, and way less furniture and clutter, it looked twice as big and bright as before. Liam was especially excited, since it would be his room when he visited, and Emma and Mary Margaret had hung some photos of the two of them in a cluster on one wall.

The kitchen made quite an impact, especially with Liam, who seemed determined to apologize for the comments he'd made about the space being too small. Killian, meanwhile, was entirely floored by the dining set.

"Where did you get this?" he asked.

"I made it," Emma said, her voice bright despite the emotions she felt. She was a Fix-It Sister right now, with the cameras on. "I used a bunch of the shiplap from the walls. The chairs were from an estate sale, and I refinished them, saving us a ton of money." She paused. "I know you weren't too picky about the dining set and you were okay with me getting something less expensive. I hope you don't think I was trying to be cheap—"

"No, not at all," he interrupted. "I love it. It's perfect."

She let out a shaky breath. "Good, I'm glad."

"Brother, want to check out your balcony?" Liam asked slyly.

"Right, the balcony." Killian moved towards the French doors, slowing down as he spotted what was decidedly not a balcony through the glass panes of the doors and massive windows. "Hold on."

Liam laughed heartily as Killian threw the doors open, like a kid tearing open a present, and stepped out onto his brand new deck, where one of the cameramen was waiting to capture his reaction. "How?"

"All that money I saved, not staying at hotels," Liam said, as though it were no big deal. "What was I to do with all the cold, hard cash burning a hole in my pocket?"

Emma could have sworn there were tears in Killian eyes as he embraced his brother and examined his new deck, excitedly trying out the lounge chairs and playing with the grill. Both men chuckled when they spotted the lemonade on the tray, settled under the umbrella shading the table. "I see we have enough refreshments for everyone," Killian said.

Ugh, how desperate was she that she hoped that had been fondness in his voice?

"Wanna see upstairs?" Mary Margaret asked, grinning widely at how well the men were reacting to the new house.

"Of course."

All four of them made their way up the stairs, with Killian commenting on all of his souvenirs and mementos set up in the built-ins around the television as they passed by, and Liam complimenting them on the newly finished stairs.

While the office wasn't tiny, it was a tight fit with a cameraman lying in wait; Mary Margaret and Liam stayed in the doorway, while Emma followed Killian in. "This is … " He shook his head in disbelief. "I'm sorry, love, you may have rendered me speechless."

"Atta girl," Liam cheered. "That is an all too infrequent occurrence."

"You've got yourself a great location here, Killian," she said, making sure to sound like a Fix-It Sister. "I wanted to make sure you could see this gorgeous view from as many rooms in the house as possible. So you can get your work done, and enjoy looking out at the harbor."

"And you even have a little library over here," Mary Margaret said, pointing at the recliner Emma had loved and Killian had decided to purchase, which sat between a stylish but classic floor lamp and a little end table. Killian strode over and had a seat. "From there, you can see all your books and decide what to read."

Emma watched Killian's eyes slide over his books, arranged artfully on the shelves with a few more pieces of decor placed in some of the gaps. She held her breath when she saw him finally notice the canvas print of Milah, smiling back at him.

She knew the camera was capturing the tears that finally spilled from his eyes, and his sad smile as he gazed up at the picture. She shook a little; it had been a huge risk putting that photo there, knowing how emotionally charged the reveal would be, but it had worked.

Finally, it was time to show off the master suite. Liam oohed and aahed and made some great jokes about how when he came to visit, this was going to be his bedroom. And both men approved of the closet space; if Killian felt that it was more appropriately sized for two people, he didn't voice that complaint.

And finally, there was the master bathroom. Again, it was difficult to reveal the room, since half of the space was taken up by the cameraman. "Oh, wow. All right, I take back everything I said about the double sink," Killian said. "This is perfect. This is … it feels like my bathroom."

"That was the goal," Emma reminded him.

She and Mary Margaret left the brothers to continue examining the house while they went to film their "exit interview," as they liked to call it. They usually did it in front of the finished house, but instead, David brought them out on the deck, to capture the gorgeous view in the background.

As usual, Mary Margaret got them started. "It was really hard for Killian to move on from the life he shared with his late wife. But by sharing his story with the sellers, he was able to get this amazing house with this superb view for twenty thousand dollars under the asking price."

"It was a rough six weeks, with Killian living in the reno zone, and with such monumental problems eating away at the meager budget," Emma continued. "But he kept a positive outlook throughout, and by sourcing more affordable furniture, using a lot of his belongings, and accepting a generous gift from his brother Liam, Killian got the perfect home to start building new memories in."

"Cut! That was great!" David beamed at them. "All right, why don't we do the teaser with you guys drinking lemonade?"

"Dork," Emma said. "All right, wanna ad lib?"

"Sure," Mary Margaret replied. "Ready when you are."

"And action!"

Mary Margaret grabbed at one of the lemonades that was half full. "Oh, this is so good. I'm a genius for picking up lemonade."

"Hon, that's not even yours." Emma had no idea whose it was (although she really, really hoped it wasn't Killian's), but this would make a great teaser.

"Sure it is."

"Did you check the label?"

"What label?"

"You made labels. See?" Emma grabbed another lemonade and made a big show of checking the little tape flag. Killian, it said, in Mary Margaret's gorgeous handwriting. "Yep, this one says, 'Mary Margaret' on it." She pretended to look at the other two labels. "Yep, you're drinking mine."

"Oh well."

"Give it back!"

"Finders keepers," Mary Margaret replied evenly, before walking into the house.

"Oh, yeah, well … " Emma reached into her pocket and pulled out her own car keys. Not that the audience knew that. "Huh. I found your car keys, so what does that mean?" And then she followed her sister into the house.

"Cut! Love it."

"Whose lemonade is that?" Emma asked.

"It's mine," Mary Margaret said, showing off the label. "I checked." She rolled her eyes and then said, very quietly, "I knew better than to accidentally grab Killian's."

"Hey!"

"Shh!" The brothers had just then stepped into the kitchen and were talking to David about their own exit interviews.

Emma, still awkwardly holding Killian's lemonade, followed Mary Margaret outside to the driveway while David led the brothers out onto the deck.

Now that they were really alone, Mary Margaret was a little less quiet. "You have to go for it."

"No, I don't," Emma said firmly. "You could tell how upset he was at me."

"Because he thinks you're still saying no!"

"What makes you think that's changed?"

"Because I saw the look on your face when he came up to us. And the look on your face when he saw the house. And the handmade dining table, and the deck, and the office. You are gone, Emma Swan. G-O-N-E gone. We're about to do our last piece of filming, and then we are done. Okay?"

"I—"

"You told me to stop dancing around the whole David issue. So maybe take your own advice for once?"

"Ladies, ready for the last piece?" David called out from the front door.

"Uh, yeah! Where are we doing it?" Emma asked, happy for the excuse to walk away from Mary Margaret and end the conversation.

"Since we just did two pieces on the deck, I was thinking the living and dining area, near the French doors."

"Sounds good."

Liam and Killian were already waiting for them; Liam was leaning casually against the wall beside the French doors, and Killian was standing nervously near the dining table, looking very confused and conflicted. David had them move around a bit, since the bright light from outside was affecting the shot, but soon enough, they had a good angle.

"Well, Killian, even with all of the setbacks, I hope that you're happy with the place," Mary Margaret said.

"I am." His voice sounded a little rougher than usual. "This is so much more than I could have expected or asked for, on nearly any budget."

"Killian's just anxious because I'm threatening to move in," Liam said. "This place is wonderful. Thank you so much for your hard work."

"It's what we do," Emma said, and Killian's eyes flicked over to her, as though she'd said something meaningful. "Anyway, you've had enough of us taking over your house, right?" They all laughed. "Killian, we wish you the best of luck. This is a very special house, so we'll leave you to get settled in."

"Thank you."

Mary Margaret was the first to reach out and offer to shake Killian's hand, but he surprised her with a very affectionate hug. Liam laughed and looked towards Emma, who chuckled and accepted a hug from him—this would look less awkward if both she and Mary Margaret hugged the brothers.

And then Liam was hugging Mary Margaret, and Killian was hugging her.

Liam's hug had been polite—detached without being rude. It was the sort of hug you gave someone when you didn't know them all that well. But Killian's embrace was romantic, and she prayed that the cameras weren't capturing just how inappropriate it was.

Especially because she found herself sighing into his neck and clutching his shirt, and there was no way that was being interpreted as platonic or businesslike.

"All right, that's a wrap!" David called out, and she extricated herself from Killian's arms and they all began the process of removing their microphones. "All right, I'm gonna head back to the office. See you there?"

"Sure."

"Actually," Liam said, scratching his neck the same way Emma had seen Killian had dozens of times, "we were wondering if the sisters would like to join us for a late lunch?"

"Aye," Killian said, clearing his throat. "It would mean a lot to us if you did."

"Don't you want to, you know, check out the house?" Emma asked anxiously.

"We were going to pick something up," Liam explained. "Come now, after all your hard work, I can't imagine you'd say no to a free lunch."

Emma looked towards Mary Margaret pleadingly, expecting her sister to politely decline on their behalf. But instead, Mary Margaret looked genuinely interested. "Well, free food is always pretty enticing," she said. "Where were you thinking of ordering from?"

"Granny's Diner," Liam replied.

Mary Margaret groaned happily. "Sold."

"Excellent." Liam grinned, and Killian looked cautiously optimistic. "I'll be back in a jiffy then."

"I'll come with you," Mary Margaret said quickly.

"I'm going to insist on paying, lass."

"That's fine. But you're going to need a second pair of hands to carry everything, and besides, I know what to get for the two of us."

And with that, Mary Margaret was gone. Liam was gone. David was gone. The crew was outside, packing up. It was just her and Killian.

"That was subtle," she remarked.

"I'm sorry," he said. "It was Liam's idea, and I didn't have the heart to stop him. I wanted to talk to you too badly."

"I'm sorry for last week," she said, cutting him off and turning to face him. Her face was burning with embarrassment. "I was exhausted, and I had no idea you were thinking of me like that. And I've had issues with guests on the show in the past and didn't want to get in trouble."

"Please, love, you've nothing to apologize for. Not only did I misinterpret your professional interest, but I also should never have put you in such a difficult position to begin with. The contract is in place for a reason—I understand that. And it was ungentlemanly of me to force myself on you, especially when we were alone in my house, so late at night."

She let out a heavy breath—she hadn't even thought about that particular way the kiss had been inappropriate. "You didn't—just because I wasn't expecting you to kiss me doesn't mean you forced yourself on me," she clarified. "And I wasn't feeling scared or anything, in that situation."

He nodded and swallowed hard. "Even so, I'm very sorry."

She nodded back. "Uh, so, Regina told me you went and talked to her." He turned bright red, all the way to the tips of his ears. "About the contract."

"Aye, I did. I should have told you, especially before I kissed you. I kept telling myself to wait it out, that there were only two weeks left, and then I could broach the subject. I hardly made it a week."

"I do, you know … like you. Like, like you, like you." She admitted it in a rush, figuring that if she took the time to try to phrase it eloquently, she'd lose her nerve completely.

"I—you do?"

"Yeah. I mean, I didn't really think about it much until last week, but I did. I mean, for someone who's so afraid of getting in trouble, I suck at following the rules."

He smiled a bit. "Aye, such as the rules that state you're not to have dinner with me alone? Or the rules that prevent me from entering your own flat?"

"Well, there was no rule against that specifically," she reminded him. "But yeah."

"Did Regina tell you what she told me?" he asked. "About when the rules no longer apply?"

Look, we just have one more day of filming, so they just need to keep it under wraps until that's done.

"Yeah, she did."

"And?"

"And what?"

He sighed impatiently, but he was smiling slightly. "We're done filming," he reminded her, as if she'd forgotten. "We're about to have lunch, just the four of us, no cameras or directors or other methods of supervision, and it doesn't matter because the contract no longer applies."

"Yeah." She tried to keep a straight face, but as soon as he saw the corners of her mouth twitch, he grinned widely and took a step towards her.

"So, Emma Swan, would you please do me the honor of permitting me to date you?"

She chuckled nervously. "Well, I mean, fine, I guess."

"I suppose that's as good of an answer as I'm going to get," he replied, and once again, she was in his arms, and his lips were on hers, and wow okay, he was an even better kisser when she wasn't sleep deprived as all hell. And when there wasn't that stupid contract looming over them. And when there wasn't dust everywhere, and the smell of paint fumes, or any of that crap. Just him and her and his arms tightening around her waist, and the promise of a fresh start.

Emma groaned as she finally gave up on sleep. She wanted to keep sleeping in—it was Saturday!—but thanks to Daylight Savings Time, it was barely eight o'clock in the morning and the sun was practically burning holes in her eyelids. "Who the fuck thought it was a good idea to put an entire wall of east-facing windows in a bedroom?" she asked no one in particular.

"Well, Swan, if I recall correctly, it was you," Killian called out from the bathroom.

"My designs included shades." Which he stubbornly never drew unless they were having sex at night with the lights on. Something about—

"I like rising with the sun." He poked his head out of the bathroom. "Don't pretend you didn't know that from the start, darling. It was in my application."

"I'll show you my application," she replied grumpily. "What are you doing?"

"Getting dressed."

"It's Saturday."

"I do wear clothes on Saturdays, love."

"You're wearing work clothes."

"That I am. Do you recall why?"

"Leave me alone."

He chuckled. "As you wish." And then he exited the bedroom, leaving the door open behind him. She hated when he did that—with the door open, she could hear everything he was doing downstairs. It wasn't a design flaw; when the door was closed, the bedroom was a sanctuary. Which he knew. This was his way of making her get up, by exposing her to all the household noise.

And the smell of eggs and bacon, which floated right upstairs and into the bedroom. Goddamnit. She reluctantly dragged herself out of bed and into the bathroom.

It looked the same as it had when she'd finished it last year. But after a couple of visits to her condo in Boston, before she'd sold it, Killian had decided that their master bath needed a bath. She'd argued with him about it for a couple weeks—there wasn't enough room, the space would be cramped, they'd have to demolish the linen closet—but the man had worn her down, mostly reminding her of the amazing bath they'd taken together at her place. So she had to figure out a way to renovate the room.

She groaned. And today was the day that they'd be filming the first part of the network special, detailing how she and Killian had met during the renovation, fallen in love, and made a home together. And as part of the special, they'd be doing renovations.

It all came flooding back to her as her brain started kicking into gear.

They would be knocking down the linen closet to make space for the new tub she'd purchased (nice, deep, luxurious). She'd found some space for a new, slightly bigger linen closet by stealing some square footage from the office. And they'd be creating a laundry room in the garage; currently the machines and the sink just sat in a corner. Doing laundry in the winter had sucked so badly that Killian managed to wear the same three pairs of underwear for two weeks, all to avoid being in the freezing cold garage longer than necessary.

And then there was the small addition on the other side of the house. That was happening first—they were starting that today.

She tried to make herself look presentable before pulling on her newest work clothes. The flannel shirt was too tight, but it was the one she really wanted to wear today; Killian loved the way the colors brought out her eyes. Oh well; it wouldn't be that terrible to wear it unbuttoned over her tank top.

By the time she got downstairs, breakfast was waiting for her at the dining table. She grinned. She used to remind Killian that she designed the peninsula in the kitchen to be used as a breakfast bar, so he didn't have to use the larger dining table when he was eating alone or it was just the two of them. But every time she'd brought it up, he'd pointed out that she had made that table with her own two hands (and plenty of tools and equipment, she'd protested, before he'd ignored her and continue his speech) and he was going to eat every single meal at it forever. Eventually, she stopped bringing it up.

He sat down across from her, with his own plate as well as a cup of coffee. "So, are you excited?"

"Yeah," she said, with a bit of a sigh. "And nervous."

"There's nothing to be nervous about."

"I know, it's just ... " She laughed. "I remember when Regina was telling me about you talking to her about the contract, she said that the network magazine was going to be doing a spread on her and Robin."

"Aye, I remember you bringing it home and having me read it."

"Right."

"And?"

"Well, when she still thought you and Mary Margaret were hooking up—before I told her about David—she said that the network would probably be fine with it and even maybe do a special later on."

It was his turn to laugh. "Well, clearly they were fine with it."

"I know," she said, smiling and reaching for his hand. "Anyway, I'm just nervous. Sometimes, the audience doesn't care much for this kind of stuff."

"Aye, but I think they'll like this one," he said reassuringly.

"What makes you so sure?"

"Well, they'll play all that footage of my episode of the show, and I'm sure they'll even include plenty of it that was edited out. You remember, don't you? How upset and anxious I was? How little I wanted to be here?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, it's too bad we didn't get footage of you nearly puking in our office."

"Oi, I didn't nearly—anyway, my point is, that whole episode was about me getting a fresh start and building a new home. Don't you think your fans will be excited to see just how well we've managed together?"

It was hard not to believe him, not when he was so enthusiastic. "Yeah, well, even if you're wrong, it's too late to back out now." She could hear the vans and trucks pulling up. "Time to get started."

Emma was a little nervous, doing her first side by side "interview" with someone other than Mary Margaret. Her sister had insisted that this episode was about her and Killian, and that Emma should alternate between pairing up with Killian and with Mary Margaret throughout the special. Emma privately thought that it had a lot more to do with Mary Margaret constantly heading to Bar Harbor to meet with wedding vendors.

But to be fair, David was their best director, and they needed him for the whole episode. That left Mary Margaret to handle today's details regarding the Nolan-Blanchard nuptials.

As Leroy began filming, and David called for action, Emma and Killian began reading off the cue cards.

"Here on Fix-It Sisters, my sister Mary Margaret and I are used to helping people get a fresh start in a brand new home," Emma began.

"That's all I was looking for when I was a guest on the show last year," Killian said. "Little did I know that I'd be getting that fresh start alongside one of the sisters."

"When I designed this house, I did so with Killian alone in mind. But now, with us both living here, it's time to make some changes."

"We've got three major projects," Killian began to explain. "We'll be turning the master bathroom from a four piece into a five piece, replacing the linen closet and shower stall with a gorgeous new tub. This also means we'll be relocating the linen closet, taking some space from the hallway and my office. After that, we'll be converting a corner of the garage into a new laundry room—a well-insulated one, complete with a pull-out drying rack and a counter for folding clothes."

"Today, though, we're going to get started with the biggest part of our renovation." Emma couldn't help but beam as she spoke. A lot of what they were saying was going to be converted to voice over, but she knew that this moment would be shown in its entirety. "We'll be adding an addition to the first floor, giving us another bedroom and some extra living space. After all," she said, grinning and patting her baby bump as the camera panned down to capture the moment, "Uncle Liam needs a place to stay when he comes to visit his niece."

I hope you enjoyed the ending! Thanks for all your awesome support for this story. I would love to hear what you thought, such as favorite aspects or moments!

I am no longer posting stories to FFnet. For new stories (including a bonus chapter of this story, check out my page on AO3 (same username, phiralovesloki; there's a link in my profile as well).