Disclaimer: Borrowed a few lines from Monty Python's Dead Parrot when Neal is thinking about his relationship with Emma. And no, I don't own Emma Swan or Neal Cassidy; if I did, they would be in Tallahassee having… fun.
A/N: So here I am, basking in all the SwanFire glory from Manhattan, when in comes Tamara and I see my girl Swan's heart break. Do I like love triangles? NO! As a result, this plot bunny won't leave me alone and I decided to have it posted before completing Ashes.
I dedicate this to any SwanFire fans whose hearts cracked a little last Sunday, lol. As they say, laughter is the best medicine, so here is how I'm treating myself. Meant to be a 3, maybe 4-chapter joke and very OOC, so if that's not your cup of tea, don't drink it, and it won't leave a bad taste in your mouth!
Chapter 1: Wedding bells
Emma Swan swallowed the last spoon of ice cream with relative indifference. So Neal was going to get married. Big deal.
May he be happy with that cute, lovely, brown sugar, kind-hearted-to-the-point-of-lending-her-car-to-him-under-very-suspicious-circumstances fiancé of his, Tamara. Even her name was fancy. Pfffff. Little did she know what kind of bastard she would be stuck with for the rest of her life.
She shrugged, and then threw the empty tub of chocolate gelato against the wall in a fit of rage.
'Enough drama,' her inner self had boldly determined. 'Life goes on.'
She picked up the phone, and dialed a number she had called only once, a long time ago.
"Hey Archie, this is Emma," she said, looking at her nails. "Would you join me for a drink? I need someone to talk to."
"And this is the decoration for the cake I had told you about, Tamara," whispered Regina Mills, the wedding-planner, as she placed a gigantic poster of a five-tier wedding cake decorated with ribbons, flowers and pearls before the eyes of the couple sitting opposite her.
"And how much is that gonna cost me?" asked Neal, as he rubbed his fiancé's back and stared at the poster, and all the other pictures that had been spread on the table. He hoped Tamara would actually invite enough of her friends and family for the gigantic party they were about to throw. As Regina showed him an outrageous four-digit number on a piece of paper, he particularly hoped the guests would make sure to eat those five tiers of cake to its last crumb.
"We have excellent payment plans," the woman hissed, and Neal could swear she felt some kind of sadistic pleasure in seeing him sink further into debt.
"We can have something smaller, sweetie," he heard Tamara whisper. "I don't mind."
Oh, she was such a doll. So kind and understanding! Definitely a woman any man would die to marry. And she was pretty as well. What else could Neal hope for?
His run in with Emma Swan had disturbed him a little, he had to admit. But they were over. Past tense. Have-beens. Their romance was no more. It had ceased to be. It had expired and gone to meet its maker. It had kicked the bucket, shuffled off its mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the choir invisible. Everything was past: their glorious days shoplifting, hot wiring cars, making out in motel rooms before housekeeping, dreamcatchers, yellow bugs, Tallahassee, her cute smile, her warm kisses, their plans, her voice, her eyes…
Tamara's voice made him jump.
"No!" he replied. "Of course not, honey, we are going to have a wonderful, wonderful wedding party, and I… I love that five-tier cake," he replied, as he took his checkbook out of his pocket.
"So how did it go?" asked August, who had been waiting for Neal outside, and walked towards him when the couple went their separate ways.
"More digits…" Neal mumbled. "I swear, I'll have to sell a kidney if this keeps going."
"You wait until the kids come," the other man said. "And you start saving for college. That's, my friend, that's when you will need to sell a kidney. Maybe both. And your corneas."
"Yeah, the kids, right?" Neal's voice had reached a strangely high pitch. "The kids!"
"You ok?" August asked, frowning. "You're all sweaty!"
"Oh, no, I'm fine…" Having kids with Tamara. Of course! Such a natural thing to do. Why was he panicking? "I'm aaaahshhhiiiaaaaiddaaaghaa…" he muttered incoherently, as he kicked and punched the parking meter in front of him in a fit of rage. "…ggaaaahhh!"
He then stopped, took a deep breath, smoothed his shirt, and looked at August as if nothing had happened.
"I'm fine. Never been better."