#and it's really provided so much more clarity to the script so now i m only focusing on the scenes he's in

[vaskadenisov]

took a month long writing break, but we're back baby!!!

[seriouslyhooked]

Some Call It Magic (A CS AU) Part 2/?

When Killian Jones moves to Storybrooke he instantly senses something strange about this little town in Maine but he’s willing to overlook all the bizarre signs for one reason: the single Mum living next door to him. There’s only one problem. Killian is nearly positive she’s a witch, a brewing potions and casting spells witch. But when true love is involved, does a little thing like magical powers really matter? Story rated M. 

Part 1 Here. Also On FF Here.

A/N: So first and foremost I want to say thank you so much for the great response I got from so many of you! It makes writing so much easier on my end when I know I have people who are as excited as I am to get to the next chapter. That being said, this installment takes place on the same day as chapter one but from Killian’s POV. Hope you guys enjoy and let me know what you all think!

What a difference six hour’s worth of highway makes, Killian thought to himself as he drove past the outer limits of Storybrooke and into the heart of this quaint town on the coast of Maine.

It occurred to Killian more than once on the drive to this sleepy little hamlet that this might be the making of a total disaster. He’d tendered his resignation at one of the nation’s greatest papers this week, where he had leeway on writing any story he wanted, and for what: a complete one-eighty where he traded in a ritzy Manhattan flat for a seaside cottage in a town with under a thousand occupants. Killian was almost certain that his old apartment building alone had more people living in it than the whole of Storybrooke, and if he had to guess, the impending culture shock would not be insignificant.

But even if this move was certifiably crazy, it offered something Killian had been desperately craving for a long time: change.  He’d been stuck for too long in the same cyclical, boring life that never evolved in any way. Every story that he wrote (even the most abnormal ones that he wrestled for weeks to get just right) was formulaic. His hobbies were predictable and his poor attempt at a social life was totally contrived. There was nothing new in Killian’s world, nothing that gave him the rush that climbing the ladder at the paper once provided. Yes, Killian he had success in his profession, but what did it matter if he ended each day feeling unfulfilled?

“If you’re that unhappy, why don’t you go off and write that bloody book you used to talk about? You’ve got the money. You’ve got your health. What the hell is stopping you?”

His brother Liam’s opinion had come as a surprise to Killian when he offered it a week ago. Liam was a workaholic to the extreme stationed as an in-fighting consultant for the US Navy. He was never home and he preferred it that way so Killian assumed that Liam would fail to see why someone could want more for their life than their work, but his brother surprised him with his insight on their last Skype call.

“You’ve only got one life, brother. Better to find something that matters and secure it than to wake up one day and realize you would do it all differently if you could.”

With those words in mind, Killian debated with himself about what choice to make. He wanted a sign or something more than simple suggestion from his brother that this was the right play, and when he got home that day he found one. For there, interspersed in the usual bills and flyers that came each day in the mail, was something unusual: a post card bearing an appealing picture of the ocean and the words ‘Storybrooke, Maine.’

The oddness of the piece of mail grew that much more bizarre when Killian flipped it over and found that it was handwritten with an almost child-like script and addressed to him personally. Not ‘current resident,’ not the name of the last tenant who once lived here, but Killian Jones. On the card there was also a short but informative message:

‘You’ll find what you’re looking for here.’  

Maybe Killian should have read that and been skeptical. After all what was someone in a town in Maine doing sending him a personalized post card? But then he reasoned that it must be some kind of marketing ploy, and in his case they might just have convinced him. There was something about the earnestness and clarity this postcard brought even while being wrapped in mystery that intrigued him.

So Killian did the only logical thing he could think of; he hopped on his laptop and googled the place, scrolling deeper and deeper into what he could find of Storybrooke and falling into a fantasy of what life there might be like. The next thing he knew, Killian was searching real estate listings and sending an email to a woman named Elsa who appeared to be the only realtor in the whole town, hoping to find a house of his own despite having never even been to Storybrooke in his life.

Now, not even a week later, he was here. After spending a night in a hotel in Portland, Killian rose with the dawn and headed for Storybrooke, arriving at the town’s real estate office at the bright and early hour of 7:00 AM. And he knew he had the right place to, for just out front of the tiny office was Elsa (who he recognized from her website) awaiting him with her hand covering a yawn as she tightly gripped some coffee in a portable cup.

“Killian Jones I presume?” She asked when he approached and he nodded.

“Aye. And you must be Elsa,” she nodded and Killian made sure to thank her for doing this as they walked inside her office. “I appreciate you humoring me with the early hour.”

“Oh it’s no problem. Clearly you’re eager to call Storybrooke home,” she said cheerily before pausing a bit. He could see a question brewing in her eyes but she bit it back and moved to get the rest of the materials they’d be needing.

“You want to ask me why exactly it is that I’ve moved here at all,” Killian acknowledged and she blushed a bit at being found out before nodding.

“It is a little strange. We don’t get a ton of new people,” she said but then quickly she tried to rephrase. “I mean obviously there are new people sometimes. We’re not like barring people at the town lines or anything. I mean…”

“It’s just that this isn’t really a town on the beaten path,” Killian filled in.

“Exactly!” Elsa said with relief.

Killian decided it was best to give her a snippet of his past and his hopes for the future but he was glad when Elsa didn’t pry for more than the Reader’s Digest version. Instead she worked diligently so that in twenty minutes time they had all the paperwork for the sale completed. It was a quick and relatively painless process, and Killian was amazed at just how easy it was to solidify a life altering decision when one put their mind to it.

In all honesty, Killian had been what many people might call reckless with this whole affair, not bothering to go see the house in person before putting in an offer. But Killian had seen it amongst the listings and known that if he was going to do this, that was the house for him. He also figured the price was low, it was close to the coast, and if it turned out to be total rubbish he could find another place or take it as a sign to give up on the whole idea of small town living all together.

This property also had the added bonus of being fully furnished so Killian hadn’t had to buy new things. He’d chosen a similar set up back in New York (because he never gave much thought to the styling’s of the place he largely just went to sleep) and all his actual belongings of any sentimental worth had fit in his car in a matter of boxes. Killian hoped that the existence of furnishings in this new place would keep it from feeling too empty, but it was a risk to say the least. After all he could show up and the whole place could be done up in frilly lace or garish shades that hurt to look at.

“Well Mr. Jones, I’m pleased to inform you that you are now officially a Storybrooke homeowner. Here’s the key to your new place,” Elsa said happily when they were done, pulling him from his worries.

Killian accepted the key and it’s copies, feeling a level of excitement he didn’t expect when the cool metal grazed his palm. The action of holding the key eased away his earlier doubts instantly, and Killian decided to hold onto that and keep that faith close as long as he could.

After a basic farewell to Elsa and a promise on her behalf that she’d see him around, Killian departed from her office and headed back into the sunny, mild morning that now seemed filled with so much possibility. He’d just bought a house, an actual house, and Killian wondered if he shouldn’t go and see it now that all was said and done. But there was one part of this town that beckoned him more than his future home could: the seascape that had lured him here in the first place.

When Killian arrived at the Storybrooke Beach, there was no one else around, but he didn’t mind. The serenity he imagined when glancing at that postcard back in New York was made real in this moment. The slow laps of the waves on the shore were peaceful and even, embodying a rhythm that was familiar for Killian and evocative of the only real home he’d known back in England when he was a lad. Back then it was him and Liam against the world and the sea had been the back drop for most of their good memories.

Bringing out his phone for the first time since stepping into town, Killian decided it wouldn’t be a bad idea to take a picture and to send it to the brother that had largely gotten him here. Killian made sure to include the passing sailboats in the distance and when he was satisfied that their crisp, white sails were visible, he sent the picture and a short message to Liam:

‘Not even thirty minutes in and I’ve already found more enticement for you here than in all of Manhattan. Consider this a firm demand that you take leave early this go around instead of waiting like you always do.’

While Killian knew his brother wouldn’t respond for a week or so thanks to the missions he was on, it felt good to get that check-in off his list of things to do. Yet speaking of lists, Killian had a great many things on his plate at the moment, and while staring out at the sea might be more enjoyable, he had to get back to reality and face the music so to speak. So he departed the sands with one last look and thought to himself that he’d be back soon enough to enjoy the salty air and subtle breeze he’d already come to love.

Once back in town again, Killian decided that it wouldn’t hurt to stop for some provisions. Nothing major of course, but he was relatively certain that Storybrooke wouldn’t boast any twenty-four hour establishments as New York did. He had a full day ahead of assessing what needed changing and doing with his house, so he set off to get some food and tools to pave his way at least for a few days.

Crossing the street to where the one town grocer appeared to be, Killian noticed the continued smiles and ‘good mornings’ that were tossed his way, but there came a moment when he had this feeling that he was missing something. It wasn’t a concrete thought per se, but a pull to look at one of the storefronts just beside the grocer. When he did, he noticed a flash of blonde hair and the barest glimpse of a lithe figure moving out of sight, but the window was hardly empty despite the departure, and there staring at him were three women, one of them being Elsa.

It was clear in that moment that the women had been staring at him. Killian could read it all over the faces of Elsa and the shorter woman beside her who both had the decency to look guilty, but the brunette to Elsa’s right was hardly deterred by being caught. Instead of appearing ashamed, she just started to wave, which set Elsa and the other woman doing the same. Killian nodded in their direction and smiled, but he pushed past the place to the grocer all the same not wanting to get sidetracked.

“You must be the new import everyone’s been talking about all morning,” a voice said to Killian when he’d barely entered the store.

Killian looked over and found a man with a wide smile and easy disposition. He’d guess they were around the same age, and from the white coat the man was donning he was likely some sort of Doctor. It was funny to Killian though, because underneath the coat the man wore a flannel, jeans and sturdy boots, as if Maine living meant even the utmost professionals needed to be ready for a hike at the drop of a hat.

“Yeah that would be me,” Killian confirmed and the man extended his hand.

“David Nolan, town vet.”

“Killian Jones, resident new guy” he offered in response as he shook David’s hand. “So the gossip’s already in full swing, huh?”

“Don’t worry, it gets easier,” David promised. “When I got here a few years back the talk was pretty constant but eventually it fades. And hey, maybe you’ll get lucky and someone else will move here soon.”

“How often does that happen?” Killian asked, already guessing the answer.

“Every couple of years, give or take,” David said with another smile and Killian shook his head.  

“Right. Well I’m afraid they’ll be disappointed. I don’t have that sordid of a tale to study,” Killian admitted.

“That’s alright, they can work with anything,” David teased before asking a genuine question. “So what brings you to Storybrooke?”

“I’m hell-bent on becoming a cliché,” Killian said sarcastically before filling in the rest of his plan. “I’m here for a change, pondering the big universal questions, thinking of writing a novel...”

“A novel? That sounds great!” David proclaimed. “I’ll have to tell Mary Margaret that. She’ll be thrilled to have a writer in town, and you’re moving next to Emma and Henry so you might just become her new favorite person.”

“Who?” Killian asked, not following David’s sudden enthusiasm.

“Right sorry. Your next-door neighbor Emma Swan is one of my wife Mary Margaret’s best friends. She and her son Henry live in the little blue house next door to you and she owns the Stay A Spell Café next door.”

“And why would my proximity to this Emma Swan make your wife happy?” Killian asked, his mind lingering on this unknown woman’s name curiously when it passed through his lips. Meanwhile, David suddenly looked like he’d given away too much and Killian sighed somewhat dramatically, having a sneaking suspicion of what it could be. “Let me guess – an eligible and undeniably attractive man moves to town and all anyone can think is who to set him up with.”

“You kid, but you’re not wrong. That’s exactly what everyone will do. The whole town is in love with love and Emma… well she’s been a town favorite since the day she got here,” David admitted and Killian found himself perplexed but also wanting to ask some more about his new neighbor. She wasn’t from here either? How had she ended up here? But before he could ask, David was making his excuses. “Anyway I gotta get to the clinic to open up, but if you ever need anything I’m around.”

“Lots of trials and tribulations lining my path here in Storybrooke?” Killian asked and David shook his head with another smile appearing on his face.

“No, but Storybrooke is… special. Things will come up and when they do I’m an excellent listener.”

With that David said goodbye and though there were some strange elements to the conversation he’d just had, Killian didn’t leave the man thinking less of him. Actually he figured he might have found a potential new friend, which would no doubt be useful since he’d up and left all his old ones in New York.

From there, Killian ran into a great many more talkative citizens of Storybrooke (none of whom were his mystery neighbor), and his quick jaunt to the market and the hardware store ended up taking far longer than he expected because of it. As an act of necessary self-preservation, Killian went straight home from there, pulling his car into the driveway of his new estate and taking it all in for the first time.

This house was the quintessential New England home, which was to say it was a few hundred years old and, but it had an air of being well preserved, as if the previous owner had given it a lot of tender love and care. Everything was new and fresh, with the white paint gleaming from a newly applied coat and the yard appearing immaculate in every way. It was clean and clutter-free, and for that reason it stood rather in contrast to the house next door.

Thanks to the blue color and its small shape, Killian was able to guess that this was the home of the neighbors David mentioned before, and while he wouldn’t call it messy, the cottage was definitely adorned with a good number of unusual trinkets. A uniquely decorated wind chime hung on the front porch, and tiny, colorful pinwheels dotted the lawn as did a number of little gnomes and figurines. From the front of the house Killian could make out a structure in the backyard that he assumed was an ornate kind of trellis covered in vines, and way in the back up high in an old oak tree was a tree house.

On top of that the whole property was nearly surrounded by flowers, some wild and some meticulously gardened, and Killian was amazed at most of the varieties. Lilacs, sunflowers, even a few roses were all thriving and growing at a rate he couldn’t imagine. He could have sworn a number of these blossoms weren’t in season, but here they remained, all in the apparent peak of bloom with September already starting.

Staring at the house his neighbors had made for themselves, Killian felt a sudden pang of longing. That was a home – a real home - filled with life and a vibrancy he’d never experienced before. It was captivating even in it’s busyness, and Killian didn’t have to meet Emma Swan or her son to know that there was a love in that house. Nothing less could settle in a place like that. There had to be a real kind of magic to bring something like this to life.

Killian couldn’t tell if he was comforted by the clear sense of rightness next-door or a little envious, be he decided on the former. Happy neighbors would probably be good to have as apposed to surly ones, and though his house might not boast the same level of inherent cheer, it did hold a comfortable ambiance that Killian appreciated. He’d worried that the furnishings would be to the taste of an old woman, but once inside Killian found nothing lacking. It was classic and appropriate for the house and though he found a few rooms he might change once he was settled, this would do very well indeed.

“Alright, so all in all not a heinous disaster yet,” Killian mused to himself hours later after he’d found a place for the last of his things and gotten some of the cleaning and organizing out of the way. He’d made a lot of progress, but there was still more to do with the rest of his afternoon and Killian was just about to dive into one of the actual building projects when a sharp rapping sound moved against the window, shaking the pane of glass at a dangerous rate.

“What the hell?” Killian muttered as he saw the shaking branches tapping vigorously against his window. He moved to get a better look but unfortunately his sight was obscured from this vantage point leaving him with no choice: he had to go outside and face the culprit himself if he had any hope of making it stop.

Moving through the upstairs and down to the first floor, Killian’s mind considered some possibilities of what the commotion could be, but when he stepped outside he was surprised by what had actually caused the ruckus. There was currently a small person trying to climb this tree and shaking the branches as he moved along. The person – nay, the child – in question was coaching himself aloud as he moved along the branch, and for a second Killian was too perplexed to come up with a way to address this perfect stranger trespassing on his land.

“Almost there. Just a little bit more…” The boy said with a hopeful bravado in his voice one didn’t hear outside of conversations with children, but Killian didn’t like the idea of him going any further. He was risking himself enough as is and a fall from that height could be dangerous.

“Something I can help you with, lad?” Killian called up to the boy who stilled at the words. After a second he looked down at Killian with a huge grin. Funny – when Killian had been caught making a nuisance of himself in his neighbor’s yards as a child his instinct had never been to smile, but this boy looked damn near delighted at his presence, and Killian couldn’t help but extend a smile in return.

“Actually yeah. There’s a kitten up here and she’s too scared to come down but I can’t reach her without doing something that my Mom would call ‘stupid reckless.’”

Killian chuckled at the phrasing and he appreciated the sentiment. This wasn’t the safest of activities for a young boy to be engaging in, but his mother’s words playing in his mind was a good sign. Hopefully it meant that even if Killian hadn’t stumbled upon him, the lad wouldn’t have climbed much higher and potentially hurt himself in his heroic pursuit.

“You wouldn’t happen to be Henry would you?” Killian asked and the boy looked thrilled at being discovered.

“Yeah! How did you know?” Henry asked excitedly.

“Ah well that’s easy enough – you’re Storybrooke famous. I couldn’t go even one morning in town without hearing of you. So why don’t you hop down from there so I can give it a try and you can spare yourself the scolding from your mother later?”

“So is this your house now?” Henry asked as he shimmied down the tree and Killian found himself aligning with Henry’s movements in case he should slip. “Did you buy it from Mrs. Hubbard?”

“Aye I did,” Killian confirmed.

“Cool! What’s your name?” Henry asked as his feet hit the ground. His eyes were wide with a real want to know and Killian had never felt quite so interesting in his life.

“Killian Jones.” As soon as Killian provided the answer, Henry was thrilled all over again, as if somehow the name itself was some kind of awesome occurrence.

“So Killian, where ya from?” Henry asked, the cat seemingly forgotten but Killian laughed to himself. If first impressions could be trusted, his new young neighbor was precocious at the very least.

“Originally Britain but I detoured in New York.”

Henry snickered immediately at the joke and Killian didn’t have time to wonder if perhaps he’d made a comment too high brow for the lad to understand. Still there was something about earning a laugh from the boy that made Killian happy. When was the last time he’d even had contact with a kid? And were all of them this prone to good humor? Killian could hardly tell the answer to either question.

“That’s cool. My Mom and I lived there too. New York I mean. I’ve never been out of the country,” Henry said sounding a little remiss, but not too heartbroken about it.

“I think there’s hope yet for you, lad. What are you? Ten? Eleven?”

“I’m ten going on forty, or so my Mom says sometimes when I make a good point.”

“I bet that happens fairly often,” Killian acquiesced and Henry grinned, his chest puffing out proudly as he did.

“You bet!”

“So, this feline that needs saving… is she a companion of yours?” Killian asked nodding towards the tree and seeing the small bundle of black fur still nestled high up on a branch.

“Nope. I just got off the bus and heard her meowing. I followed the sound and I ended up here,” Henry said. “Can you help?”

“I think I can manage,” Killian said, assessing the sturdiness of the tree and gauging how he wanted to go about this.

With a quick word of caution for Henry to step back, Killian started his climb and got to the part where Henry had made it, knowing the branches would no doubt be hitting his windows again. The real problem came, however, when Killian ran out of places to safely step. If he moved too far a branch could break and he’d go tumbling down. But the kitten was still a good arm’s length from him and shaking from the whole ordeal.

“Come on then, can’t you see I’m trying to help you?” Killian asked, knowing full well the animal had no idea what the hell he was saying, but what else was he supposed to do? Maybe he’d bought something from the store to lure it closer? As Killian considered the possibilities Henry spoke again.

“You ever rescued a cat before?” Henry asked and Killian gritted his teeth, not in anger but frustration at his own lack of ability.

“Not that I recall,” Killian replied, knowing full well that the answer was no.

“There’s a trick to it you know,” Henry offered. “You could sing something.”

“Sing something?” Killian asked, perplexed at the suggestion.

“Yeah. My teacher, Mary Margaret, says it’s kind of like purring and as long as your voice isn’t terrible it should work,” Henry said with an earnestness that Killian chose to believe.

“You weren’t singing a second ago,” Killian noted and Henry shrugged.

“That’s because my voice is too high. I’m only ten, remember?”

“Aye,” Killian said before resigning himself to the fact that he was going to have to sing if just to appease his energetic neighbor. “Any requests?”

“No country,” Henry replied adamantly as if Killian would somehow be well versed in that genre and Killian bit back a laugh.

“Yeah I can pretty much promise you that, lad.”

In the end Killian went with a song easily hummed to, and though the first few moments he highly doubted the merit of Henry’s claims, he was shocked to find that the small cat moved closer to him as he continued the song. Soon enough the cat was within arm’s reach, and with only a little bit of risk on his part, Killian was able to grab her safely and make his way back down. When he was safely on land once more, Killian debated handing the cat to Henry but then reconsidered.

“There’s no telling if she’s sick with something, mate. We should see about getting her to Doctor Nolan first just to be safe.”

“You know David?” Henry asked surprised and Killian nodded.

“Aye. He’s the one who told me about you and your Mum.”

Henry’s face broke into another smile at the mention of his mother, and the look in his eyes was filled with something. Killian’s instincts told him that there was a plan brewing in the boy’s head, but before he could comment on that, the sound of a woman’s voice cut through everything.

“Henry, there you are!”

In that moment of first seeing the woman he assumed was Henry’s mother, Killian found himself at a loss for words. There was no means of understanding the beautiful sight before him. Emma Swan, if that was who this was, was more alluring and initially striking than anyone he’d ever met. It was like one second he was half asleep and the next he was jolted by this sudden sense of rightness. Everything about her was made of equal perfect parts, from her blonde flowing hair to her expressive green eyes. Even in this moment when worry was only just finding relief at her son being okay, she was stunning and so much more than Killian ever expected or knew how to handle.

Bloody hell! He thought to himself, not knowing what to say or do. Suddenly he was awkward when that had never been a problem for him, but for the moment he was spared by her continued attention being given to her son. She hadn’t so much as looked his way yet, and if Killian had any hope of not appearing a total fool, he needed to steady himself before she deigned to do so.

“Hey Mom!” Henry greeted, looking fully pleased with himself and the turn in situation.

“What are you doing here, kid?” Emma asked in a softer, but still firm tone. “You’re supposed to get off at Grace’s stop on Monday’s, you know that.”

“Oh. Am I still doing that this year?” Henry asked, but there was something less genuine in the lad’s voice than Killian had experienced since meeting him. If he had to guess, Killian would say that Henry knew what he was doing and that he’d gone against the original plan willingly.

“Yeah Henry, you are. I’m supposed to be working until five on Mondays, same as always.”

“Okay, Mom. I’ll remember next time,” Henry promised, and his mother seemed to trust him in that, giving him a nod and bringing him in for another hug.

This level of understanding reached between mother and son, however, prompted that next gloriously terrifying step Killian had been anticipating. Finally, after what felt like forever, Emma looked his way, and the connection he’d anticipated was like a punch in the gut and the warm rush of sunshine after a cold, dark winter all at once. He was thrown for a moment as they stood there silently gazing at each other, before Henry stepped in and saved the day.

“Mom, this is Killian. He’s out new neighbor from New York. Killian, this is my Mom, Emma Swan.”

“It’s nice to meet you Killian,” Emma offered kindly, her hands remaining on Henry’s shoulder’s in a protective way, as if she was still trying to convince herself that she’d found her son and he was truly okay.

“You as well, Swan,” Killian replied back clumsily.

Killian nearly smacked himself in the forehead for that lack of cool and his strange use of her last name, but then he remembered that wasn’t an option, not when he still held this small, furry beast in his hand. He looked down to the small puff of fur at the same time Emma did and when he looked back her way, he saw how much easy affection she had for the animal. She’d been a practical ray of sunshine since the moment he saw her, but now she was even more than that, exuding this kind of power he couldn’t readily explain.

“This your friend?” Emma asked in a way that simultaneously teased him and offered appreciation of the small kitten in his grasp.

“Not exactly,” Killian said, casting a glance at Henry who was making a sign for him not to rat him out. Killian didn’t want to lie to Emma in any way, so he chose his words carefully and selected only part of the story to share with her. “I just got her down from the tree with some guidance from your boy here, so I’d say we’re really acquaintances at best.”

Emma laughed at the joke and if Killian had thought it felt good to earn that sound from her son, there was nothing to compare earning one from Emma. It felt like he’d just won every damn prize in the book, and he immediately had this want to make Emma laugh like that again. He wracked his brain trying to think of something funny to say but he couldn’t form the words. He was too consumed with that lingering smile that played at her lips to formulate anything of sense to say.

“Well she seems to have taken a liking to you,” Emma said. “Are you a cat person?”

“I never gave it much thought to be honest, love,” Killian answered and Emma’s smile widened, filling his whole being up with light as she did.

“You might want to. I don’t think you’ll be shaking her anytime soon.”

Killian knew Emma was likely right about that given the fact that this little creature was purring up a storm and cuddling further into him with every given second. It was nice though, and even though he hadn’t had a pet since he was young, the thought of this little thing being in that great big house with him lent a level of comfort. He’d just have to ask David when he eventually got to his clinic if anyone had reported a missing cat. Then he’d have to figure out how exactly to care for a cat since he didn’t have even a remote idea.

“Hey Mom, you know what would be a great idea? We should have Killian over for dinner tonight!” Henry said excitedly and Killian actually really liked the sound of that. But his hope for such an invitation faded when in that moment Emma’s face fell, causing Killian’s heart to clutch painfully in his chest. She looked stricken by the proposition, and here he was thinking things had been going rather well.

“Maybe another time, kid. We have plans at Belle’s tonight, remember?” Emma said, offering Killian an apologetic look as she did. He clung to that expression, hoping it meant that she wasn’t counting out the idea on the whole.

“Oh yeah, I forgot about that” Henry said disappointedly. “ So tomorrow then?”

“Let’s give Mr. Jones the chance to settle in a little before we beat down his door with invitations, okay? Now go grab your backpack. I’ve got to get back to the café and you’re coming with me.”

“Alright. See you later?” Henry asked Killian earnestly, as if he was a little afraid that Killian might make a run for it after everything.

“Aye, lad, I’ll be here,” Killian promised as Henry ran back into his house presumably to get his stuff. Both Killian and Emma watched him go but then something dawned on Killian – she’d just used his last name and Henry hadn’t mentioned it in their introduction.

“What?” Emma asked when he looked at her with a smirk on his lips. She went a little pink under his gaze and Killian immediately took to that with the same intensity that he had her laugh. God she was something else.

“You knew my last name already. Someone’s been gossiping about their new neighbor.”

It was a risk to put that theory forward, because perhaps there was a chance that she’d merely spoken with the previous owner or stumbled upon his name in passing at that café David mentioned, but when her jaw dropped and she went fully red Killian knew he was right on. Emma Swan had been curious about him, and now he just had to hope that she wasn’t disappointed with the results.

“I wasn’t gossiping. I just happened to hear a couple of things that’s all,” she said, her eyes struggling to meet his when she did.

Killian could have pressed her on this, but as it was he didn’t want to push. Right now he was in this incredibly easy, almost blissful state with a woman he’d only just met and he didn’t want this feeling to fall away. The last thing he’d ever want to do was cross a line and move this from playful banter to a misunderstanding and so he allowed Emma to pivot to a different subject.

“Anyway, thanks for watching out for Henry. I hope he wasn’t too much trouble. He can be a handful.”

“Not at all, love. You’ve done a good job with him. From what I can tell he’s bloody brilliant.”

The pride that Emma displayed at the compliment to her son was profound, and Killian could tell that she was the kind of mother who truly loved her boy more than anything. That was as it should be, and Killian certainly hadn’t told a lie. He did like Henry a lot, and he hoped to see him and his mother often.

“Yeah he is,” Emma whispered happily.

Before Killian could say anything more, and before he was even remotely ready to say goodbye to her, Henry was coming out the door again, and the moment was broken. Emma was back in the mindset of getting to work, and as much as Killian would love to make an excuse to go and see her and Henry there, he knew he shouldn’t. Coming on too strong too fast was a bad move and if he had any chance of continuing to get to know Emma, he had to give himself the space to figure out just exactly what he was feeling.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Swan,” Killian said when she was just about to go and Emma turned back at him offering an enigmatic smile that had so much behind it that Killian was dying to figure out.

“Chocolate or vanilla?” She asked, the question totally taking him by surprise.

“What?” he asked, not knowing if he’d just dreamed up the question all together.

“It’s a simple question,” she clarified. “Chocolate or vanilla?”

“Chocolate, Swan. What do I look like a mad man?” he asked and she laughed again at that, this time in a lower way that tantalized the very fabric of his being when it washed over him.

“Chocolate it is,” she said and with that Emma Swan and her son were off, leaving Killian standing there and wondering what on earth she could have meant.

He discovered the answer to that a few hours later though, after he’d made a visit to David and gotten some more supplies for this surprising new roommate of his, when a basket arrived on his front door along with a note. Within the confines there were a substantial amount of treats that all had one single flavor in common – chocolate. He knew right then that they were from Emma, but the note she left with them sealed the deal.

Welcome to Storybrooke, neighbor. Glad you’re not a ‘mad man.’

And all night long after that Killian spent the evening enjoying the sweets he’d been left and thinking to himself that he was so incredibly right in coming here. For there was something truly special about Storybrooke and her name was Emma Swan.

Post-Note: So there we have it – Killian’s POV of the first day in Storybrooke. The nice thing about the coming chapters is that I am planning to go back to a dual point of view installment. This will mean more CS interaction and a faster pace, but I had a lot of things to set up for in this chapter and as such it ran a little long. Anyway, I hope you guys all enjoyed and thank you for reading.