[Room 15, with Michael]

[notinthebook]

 She's got the brand-new bottle of Johnny Walker Blue in one hand when she knocks at the door of Room 15, feeling unaccountably nervous.  

It's not like this is weird, or anything.  It's not like she thinks he'll be unhappy to see her -- or the whiskey.  And she wants to know how the latest mission went, whether there were more crab-monsters involved, or...whatever might be out there.

(But they haven't talked, alone, since her stint as bartender and the fight they'd had, which, in retrospect...she doesn't even remember how it got started, or why.  That feeling of sinking unhappiness is pretty immediately recognizable, though.)

If asked, she might not even be able to say why she's here, aside from the simplest reason she can put in words: she wanted to see him.

I miss you, he'd written, once.

Well, the feeling's mutual.

Comments

[notinthebook]

"Well," she says, a little at a loss. "That's very Clint Eastwood of you."

Man, Milliways. You get the weirdest crossovers there. Personally, she thinks it seems like a pretty bad idea to go on a goddamn cattle drive when you've only just learned how to ride, but what the hell does she know about cattle or driving them or roping or riding or any of that stuff? Not a damn thing.

"I hope there's no...stampede? I guess? What kind of trouble can come from a cattle drive? My brain keeps getting stuck on Oregon Trail, so, like, don't...get dysentery and then try to cross a river, or whatever."

[luvs_yogurt]

He shakes his head and lets himself laugh under his breath, not sure what exactly the Oregon Trail has to do with it since they'll be in Arizona, but he's not about to ask either. Hey, he was out of school by the time they let kids use computers.

"I'll be fine, Emma. Believe me - that sort of thing are the least of my worries right now."

Considering he's already made the assumption there's only a 50/50 chance he'll be alive the next time he's in Miami and they're sitting on enough cocaine to land both of them in prison, his priorities are a little different. "I'm pretty sure Arizona's about the safest place for me."

[notinthebook]

"Really? In the list of places you could go where you won't get attacked or blown up or shot or implicated in some horrifying crime, Arizona is the best one you can come up with? I mean, I guess that's true, but it seems a little excessive."

Not like she's got anything against Arizona. She's passed through it once or twice. It just seems like a strange place for his head to go. Arizona? Cattle drives?

Okay, the guy's under a lot of pressure. It's not like she wouldn't expect him to crack in a couple of spots.

"Well, I hope you have fun. Watch out for your boots and sleeping bags, I hear scorpions get into everything out there."

[luvs_yogurt]

He doesn't have the heart to tell her there are very powerful people on more than one continent that tell stories about him, or that he deserves at least one of them.

"It'll be nice to not have to worry, how much trouble can I really get into in the old west? Maybe a stage coach robbery or uppity steer? I think I'll be all right." He chuckles under his breath, but the humor's still leaked away; "As many years as I've spent in the Middle East and Africa, I've seen bugs that scare me a hell of a lot more than a scorpion."

[notinthebook]

"You?"

She gives him her most dubious look, a little dozy still, and actually, okay, kind of maybe sort of a little fond.

The guy is crazy, but who's she to talk about anyone's sanity and make any kind of call? Besides, doesn't that make her even crazier, coming out here with him.

"Hey." She leans forward, a little smile tugging at her mouth. "Bring back a cowboy hat. I would pay money to see that shit."

[luvs_yogurt]

Again, she manages draw that unexpected smile out of him and he nods; "For you? I'll wear it to bed." He mirrors her gentle lean and presses a warm kiss against her lips.

Maybe it'll be okay, at least in way, he's got more to survive for than ever.

"Emma..." he breathes against her lips; "I'm sorry I'm so... you know. The way I am."

[notinthebook]

"Yeah," she says, after a second, where her hand ends up sliding to the side of his neck, and she licks her bottom lip, that quirk of a smile tugging even further at the corner of her mouth, "you're a handful. It's a good thing I'm such a responsible adult. Someone should stay out of trouble."

She leans in again, a breath from his lips, when her eyes open, thoughtfully, before a laugh comes in a gust of breath.

"No, wait, that's not right."

What is, though, is another kiss, and a tug at the back of his neck.

[luvs_yogurt]

"Well, between the two of us..." he kisses her again, pushing further until he's crouched over her - pressing warm, sleepy kisses one after another to her soft lips.

"You're definitely the least likely to be in trouble."

Which isn't saying much - he's had more time to learn the tricks and make a life out of being in trouble... she's just more of an amateur trouble maker.

[notinthebook]

"I am definitely the least likely to have government agents after me," she agrees, "which is not necessarily something I could boast before."

It's distracted, though, because Michael is pushing her towards the pillows, and her hand is sliding down the muscles bunching and smoothing along his back, fingernails scraping gently.

"But I have to say, from here? Trouble's not looking so bad."

This has never been anything but a bad idea, but that's hard to remember when he's warm and close and keeps pressing kisses to her mouth, when he'd thought of her and wanted her around. Like she could actually help, which is a new one for her. Fingers thread through clipped brown hair, slide around to the back of his head.

[luvs_yogurt]

"Stick around long enough, you might even make accomplice status," he teases, kissing her again as he simply drinks in the wholly welcome sensations all over again. Part of him can't help but think he shouldn't, that every time he lets himself get this close the chances of it ending badly only rise.

But he's never been known to back down from bad odds.

Come morning, they're still knotted together - his arms and legs wrapped around her soft curves from behind as he holds her close enough to feel the push of her shallow sleep-breaths as he presses small kisses over her bare shoulder.

It's well into daylight, but they've still got several hours before they have to get ready for the party and while part of him doesn't want to move from their bed, how many chances is he going to have to try and talk her hitting the beachfront bar for an early lunch and a little more of that precious time to feel like something other than a guy she knows.

[notinthebook]

This is not something she should, can, or will let herself get used to, but she has to admit she likes the kisses he presses to her lips, following the tease like air she's breathing in, and she likes how it feels when he crawls back in beside her, all loose and lazy, and she likes waking up with the sun shining over the sheets, and his arms slipped around her, their legs a tangled mess she's way too sleepy to try and escape from.

Why bother? What would be the point? There's nowhere to go and nowhere else she'd rather be.

Definitely not at home, looking forward to another day of cool silence at the office.

"Hey."

It's all sleep-heavy and loose, eyes sliding halfway open as she stretches slightly, pushes back in his arms to feel his solid chest against her back. "I wouldn't have pegged you for sleeping in."

It's nice, though. Definitely preferable to another midnight chat.

[luvs_yogurt]

He lets out a shallow groan and squeezes her tightly again; "Mmmm, usually I'm not but I had a bit of a late night." He chuckles dryly and adds; "I've got a good reason to sleep late."

And he means it, even if he hadn't slept, which he had and it felt pretty amazing, he'd have gladly stayed in bed with her until she was ready to get up and start the day.

"I'm thinking brunch... maybe a walk on the beach?"

[notinthebook]

"Oh yeah?"

Her mouth is doing that thing again, that thing where her lips are pressing together and the corners are pressing up and she can feel a laugh trying to bubble up, which is ridiculous but entirely undeniable.

"I thought you weren't a fan of the beach."

She's teasing again, too, which is a whole lot more than she'd thought she'd be up for this soon after waking up, but brunch...brunch sounds good and the beach is tempting, after the brisk days in Storybrooke.

Summer there lasts, what, like a week? Jeez.

[luvs_yogurt]

He sighs as he stretches out his legs and manages to squeeze even tighter.

"M'not... but I'm a fan of getting you to smile and if that takes walking in the sand barefoot, I'm sure I can manage the horrible burden."

He can't help smiling into her soft skin as he finds a soft place to kiss. He's not used to being happy, not when it's all so fleeting and can be gone in an instant. Still, as much as it terrifies him, he is happy. For the first time he can remember since things were good with Fiona back in Ireland... when he was a different man, he feels generally happy.

[notinthebook]

That squeeze makes her laugh and try to pull away, and, yeah, she's not trying all that hard, really, it's just part of the game that she finds herself, oddly enough, playing with him.

Which is nuts. Mary Margaret would definitely think so. She would probably look pretty askance at the idea of Michael being playful, and it's not like she'd be likely to think Emma has much of a capacity for it, either.

"Okay," she says, archly suspicious, and she's about to follow it up with what's the catch? before she remembers Graham and the donuts and swallows it with a bitter twist in her stomach. "I guess it'd be a hell of a shame to miss out on actually wearing a bathing suit, considering Bar packed me one."

[luvs_yogurt]

He laughs, a genuine though soft sound that he doesn't hear nearly enough these days, and lets her fight away from him before rolling with her until she's on her back on top of him.

"I'm pretty sure the only bathing suits I can pick up here come in the 'very small usually on a tourist' version - but I can work with that." He pushes up against her, letting her awkwardly squirm against him. "Unless you had other plans."

[notinthebook]

"Oh, please," she says, grinning, arms folding across his chest. Her hair falls in a golden tangle over one shoulder, and she's thinking a shower is definitely in order before they do anything else at all.

"A banana hammock and a dress in the same day? I would almost pay money to see you embarrass yourself like that."

There's a tip of her head towards the bathroom. "My only plans involve a shower, since candlelit baths involving champagne don't exactly do much for getting clean, but then..."

Leaning down, she presses a kiss to his lips, grins before coming back up. "We'll hit this place up, tourist-style. Minus the awful bathing suit. Deal?"

[luvs_yogurt]

Nuzzling into her hair, Michael manages a nod and slowly unwraps his arms from around her - letting her up with the caveat of her warm kiss making him just want to draw her back down for more.

"I'd offer to join you, but I'm pretty sure that wouldn't do wonders for cleanliness either."

He sighs, but then relaxes back against the pillows; "I'll catch the next one and we can do whatever you want, this is your time, Emma. Just me and you and whatever Miami Beach has to offer."

[notinthebook]

"Probably not, considering our track record."

Which is...something she's not going to think about, right now, so she slides out of bed, un-selfconscious, and heads to the bathroom to turn the shower on and brush her teeth.

The water is good, the kind of soft, surrounding spray you get in the really nice hotels, the ones where even something as utilitarian as a shower is turned into a luxury, and she stands there for longer than she'd meant to, shampooing her hair, washing her face, shaving her legs and armpits, lathering up the loofah left with some kind of citrusy-smelling shower gel.

Why not enjoy herself? She's got to look nice for tonight anyway, so why not pamper herself a little, take the time to wash away the stresses of Storybrooke.

(Though she can't help wondering about Mary Margaret, about how she's holding up, even though she knows time there is frozen for her; can't help thinking about Henry and making a fond little smile appear as she's combing tangles out of her hair.)

"All yours," she tells him as she walks back in and heads for her bag, towel wrapped around her body, wet hair clinging to her back and shoulders. "Just let me dry my hair and we'll get going once you're ready."

[luvs_yogurt]

Michael, never one to be content lounging in bed, busies himself by doing the work he knows that Emma won't want to do. With a pair of gloves that Barry had thoughtfully left behind in his expensive designer man-bag, Michael made sure the drugs were baggied for individual sale and then packed them one by one into the bag before moving on to the next bit of business.

When he hears her voice, he looks up from the table where he's naked and hunched over a small disposable cellphone with an eyeglass repair kit screwdriver and a small piece of wire as he boosts the signal.

"One sec," he smiles - staring just a little too long at the way her damp shoulders slope. "I'm, uh... working on this."

[notinthebook]

She pauses for a second, mouth opening, before it presses into a dubious sort of smile as she shakes her head, bending over her bag with one hand pressing the towel to her chest.

"So I see," she says, breezy and amused, quirks a slim eyebrow at him. "And still not wearing pants."

Which is...something she might have been fazed by, yesterday, when sleeping with Michael was still a mistake she wasn't going to repeat, but right now?

Eh, there are worse things, right?

[luvs_yogurt]

He offers her an almost impish smile and shrug; "If you like, I could put pants on."

It's not really a question, of course, but it admittedly amuses him that she's not entirely used to the sight of him bent over a work surface without any pants on. It happens... probably quite a bit.

"But I was going to sneak in a shower when I get this last thing in place..."

[notinthebook]

"Then, by all means, stay pantsless."

She's grinning at him as she wrings out her hair, sorts through the bag Bar packed to pull out a few pieces of slippery cobalt blue fabric, that get tossed on the bed.

It's weird, right, how normal this feels? This should be a weird sort of ... non-relationship to have. Definitely. She should definitely be thinking this is odd, conversing with Michael while he fiddles with electronic equipment for a purpose that is not, strictly, legal, while getting ready for the day.

But it feels kinda good.

At least, that's what she's thinking as she finds a spot to start drying her hair. Who knows what might be on his mind.

[luvs_yogurt]

He doesn't respond, intently focused as he wraps a wire around another with a pair of tweezers before sitting up and sliding the battery and cover back into place.

It's comfortable, which considering they haven't known each other long says quite a bit about the connection they've managed. He doesn't feel like he has to watch himself around her, like she could come unraveled at any moment. That was always the case with Fi, waiting for the bomb to drop.

"I want you to carry this tonight, you'll have an earpiece but the handset will double as a tracker." He holds up the cheap black flip phone that he knows probably looks ancient compared to what he's seen her carrying - admittedly a little amused that she's still technically from the future.

[notinthebook]

She reaches out to take the thing, eyebrows pulling together slightly as she turns it, before glancing up at him.

"Okay, but I don't think there are gonna be pockets on that dress."

A thumb flips the phone open and closed again before she sets it down near her bag. "Guess I'll just remember not to put it down."