Part 1: The Best Things Happen While You're Dancing

"Toss me the line!"

"Heads up!"

David Nolan did as requested, and threw the dock line to his captain and best friend, Killian Jones, who quickly and deftly tied up their large sailboat. Miami was their last stop before the Christmas holiday and they were looking forward to spending time on the beach, far from the memories of loss that often plagued them this time of year (and even more so this year). David even caught himself humming "Mele Kalikimaka."

After escorting their passengers from the ship and seeing them off, both retired to their shared cabin to get ready for a night on the town.

"Where did you want to head tonight, mate?"

"How about the Carousel?"

"The Carousel? That cheesy old place?" Killian scoffed.

"And you've got a better idea?"

"I hear the Flamingo has great live acts."

"I thought you wanted to dance tonight?"

In a well-rehearsed motion, Killian began rubbing the back of his right shoulder, immediately eliciting a groan from Dave. The men first met in the Navy during the War—Dave fought for the Americans and Killian for the Brits—and battled side-by-side on a few missions. In one particular encounter, Killian saved David from an errant German bullet, but somehow managed to get the bayonet on Dave's rifle stuck in his shoulder. Since then, he'd been able to use that literal sore spot as a bargaining chip; too often, the phrase "but you stabbed me, Dave," had led to all manner of mayhem led by Jones. Usually it was something as innocuous as where they'd spend their shore leave, but it was also the reason there were a small handful of ships traversing the Eastern Seaboard under the Captain Charming name.

Not wanting an argument tonight, David quickly folded. "Alright, let's go to the Flamingo." Killian shot him a too-perfect grin as he headed above deck.

It felt nice to have solid ground beneath their feet. They'd spent far more time at sea than on land in the years since the war ended; not long after D-Day, they'd decided to go into business together with a charter ship, taking the rich and famous on cruises all up and down the East Coast. David couldn't stand to head home after he lost his twin at Normandy, and Killian's brother had captained a ship that had been attacked and sunk by a U-boat. The farther they could get from both memories, the better. And their venture had since expanded, leaving them their own bosses and happily independent.

Well, somewhat happily independent. They were free to be their own men, but both were still smarting from lost love over the past year. Just one more reason to not be at home for the holidays.

The Flamingo Club lived up to its name: bright pink everything and neon lights shaped like the bar's namesake bird hung all over. It was a bit gaudy, but so was the rest of Miami. The boys managed to snag a table near the dance floor, where a sign advertised tonight's act, the Swan Sisters.

"A sister act? Really?"

"Mate, I need to see a pretty girl. Especially after that old bat Mrs. de Vil we had to deal with this week." Even with his recent heartache, Killian had always been something of a ladies' man, but he was right—crazy Cruella de Vil had made them far too glad they were single and they needed a reminder that there were nice young ladies out there, whenever they were ready for them.

Halfway through their meal, the house lights dimmed and the skinny, bespectacled emcee stood in the spotlight on the dance floor. "Ladies and gentlemen, it is my honor to welcome to the Flamingo on this fine evening the Swan Sisters!" Killian swirled his rum and gave Dave a wicked smirk as the singers took the stage, hidden by comically oversized, white feathered fans. David just rolled his eyes back at his friend and returned his focus to the floor.

Later on, David wouldn't be able to recall what the ladies wore or the song they sang, because the minute the fans went away and they came into view, he couldn't see anything but her. The way she moved, the way she sang, the way she smiled all had him enraptured. They were good, no doubt; but there was something else about her that drew David in, some little part of her soul that was bared in her performance.

"Wow," Killian whispered. "I've never seen anything more beautiful."

"Yeah," was all David could manage back.

"Have you ever seen eyes that green?"

Like an enchanted forest. "No, never."

"And her hair…" David was admiring her short curls and the way they perfectly framed her round face as Killian went on. "It's like the sun."

Wait, what? The girl David was admiring had dark hair. Briefly, he turned his attention to the other sister: equally pretty, with the same green eyes, but hair as golden as a sunrise. A quick glance at Killian showed he was as enraptured with her as David was with her sister. So he merely grunted a quiet agreement and went back to watching the show.

All too fast, the number was up, and a couple more after that, and they left the stage. The return of the house lights pulled both men out of their dazes. Drink and dinner were long forgotten in their reverie. "Good choice, Jones," was all David could come up with.

Almost immediately, Killian jumped from their table and ran off toward the dressing room door, before David could protest. Flashbacks to an awkward night in Boston ran through his head and he didn't think he could take it if he was somehow embarrassed in front of the lovely creature he'd just watched.

Moments later, Killian returned looking way too proud of himself. "What the hell did you do?"

"Nothing, mate. I just told the manager that if the ladies were hungry, we'd be much obliged to get them dinner."

David groaned. "Just don't let this be a repeat of the Patriot Club, okay?"

"How was I supposed to know they were men? They had excellent stage makeup!"

David was still shaking his head at Killian when two visions appeared before him. The blonde sister led the way, followed by her brunette counterpart. Both wore simple but classy gowns in shades of green that complemented their complexion.

Instinctively, the men jumped up and pulled the remaining chairs at their table out for the ladies, who thanked them with polite but not-quite full smiles, as if they were assessing the situation.

"You ladies were absolutely brilliant tonight," Killian began. "We just wanted to show our appreciation."

"Thank you," the blonde replied demurely, taking her seat. If she could tell how Killian was hanging on her every word, as few as they had been so far, she was ignoring it. David had never seen Killian so smitten, but he could hardly say different about himself. The glance exchanged between he and the brunette as he pushed in her chair sent a shiver up his spine and a flutter in his heart.

"And you are…?" The golden-haired sister continued. Killian sputtered for a moment—mentally chastising himself, David could tell—and nearly tripped over his own name. "Killian Jones, and my business partner and best friend, David Nolan." David nodded, eager to learn their guests' names.

"I'm Mary Margaret Blanchard, and this is my sister Emma," the dark-haired beauty introduced.

"So where does Swan come from?" David asked, surprised he had any words. Mary Margaret. It suited her.

"It was our mother's maiden name," Emma explained.

"Just sounded more exciting than the actual last name," Mary Margaret finished.

"It suits you," Killian offered, barely hiding the adoration in his voice. David was increasingly closer to kicking him under the table; he'd never seen Killian fawn like this.

The ladies ordered and the conversation continued over the meal. They learned that the girls came from a small town in Maine and had a pretty idyllic childhood, but it was just them now as their parents had passed away, so they were using their talent to save up money for the future.

"What are your plans?" David inquired.

"I want to be a teacher!" Mary Margaret practically squealed; her enthusiasm was endearing.

"And you, Emma?" Killian asked.

"I haven't decided yet. But I'm more than happy to help her; she's looked out for me since our parents died, so this is the least I can do. And it's fun to travel and see the country."

"Where are you headed next?" Oh, tell me you're staying here.

"Back to Storybrooke for the holiday." Damn. "We're performing a few nights at our friend's inn."

"Sounds lovely," Killian gushed.

"It will be," Mary Margaret smiled back.

The band started to play a dance number, and he knew Killian couldn't help but ask Emma to join him; she obliged, happily it seemed (guess he is dancing tonight, then). And he couldn't complain when it gave him a moment alone with Mary Margaret.

For an awkward minute, he was at a loss of words. Like Killian, he was typically smooth around women, enough to earn the nickname Prince Charming (and thus half the name of their business). But she left him speechless in the best way.

"So why do you want to be a teacher?" he finally asked, leaning in toward her.

"Oh, I love kids. And teaching is one of the noblest professions out there; I love to learn and I want to share that."

She got more perfect every time she opened her mouth. "That's quite admirable. I hope you get there." He paused, considering his next question, but deciding to barrel on. "And what does your boyfriend think of that?" (Please be single, please be single…)

"My boyfriend?" She seemed confused. "I don't have one." (Phew.) "And even if I did, it would hardly be his say, would it?"

"No, it would not," he agreed. He couldn't see how any man could deny her anything, especially with the determined set of her brow as she defended her choice.

She studied him a moment before continuing on. "Besides, with all our traveling, who even has time for dating? Surely you know the feeling, with all that time at sea."

He ducked his head a bit. "Yeah, I do." It was like a double-punch to the gut: a reminder of his relatively fresh heartache and a warning that whatever he was doing here with Mary Margaret wasn't going to go very far.

She immediately looked apologetic. "Oh, I'm sorry—did I say something wrong?"

"No, you're fine; my fiancée broke things off recently. Said I spent too much time away." He sighed. "She was probably right, but I also can't say I missed her when I was gone, so maybe it was for the best."

If he had blinked, he would have missed it, but he was pretty sure he caught a gleam of disappointment in her eyes. Now I'm the one screwing it up. "Oh, that's too bad," she said quietly, leaning away from him; he hadn't even noticed her moving toward him and immediately missed her presence in his personal space. And so they were back at the beginning, an uncomfortable silence settling in.

From their seats, he could see Killian and Emma merrily twirling to the old big band tune out on the floor, smiles on their faces, and he got a little jealous. He was about to ask Mary Margaret to dance, but before he could, she slid out from the table and stood.

"It was very nice meeting you, David. Have a merry Christmas, and safe travels." She wore a put-on smile on her face and offered him her hand. He quickly stood, clasping her fingers, and wished her the same. And then she was gone.

Defeated, David slumped back in his chair and stared into his drink. Smooth. He downed the rest in one gulp, unable to believe his crap luck.

Killian couldn't believe his amazing luck. He'd picked the club on a whim, and here he was, dancing with an angel in his arms. Emma was incredible: beautiful, fierce, yet sweet; a welcome distraction from thoughts of his ex-girlfriend, Milah. Hell, there was a good chance Emma could make him forget all about her. There was something guarded about the lovely lass in front of him—something that told him not to press too hard too fast. Everything about Milah had been a whirlwind, and when she wanted to settle down before he was ready, she found someone else who did. He got the distinct impression that anything here would go at Emma's pace, and he was more than happy to oblige if given the opportunity to court her.

"Are you sure you have to head to Maine tonight?" he implored.

She chuckled. "Yes; our friends there are the closest thing we have to family. It'd be a shame to not spend Christmas with them."

"Too true, love."

"What about you? Avoiding family?"

"None to avoid. David is it." Until tonight, he had planned on happily ignoring the holiday altogether and the memories it brought up of his lost brother the parents who were long gone. He wanted to kick himself over the sad look that crossed her face at that, but it was quickly replaced by something happier, and he could tell she was planning something.

"You know, Maine is awfully beautiful this time of year, with all that snow." Her eyes sparkled with mischief, daring him.

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. There's just something special about a white Christmas."

"Indeed there is." Is she saying what I think she's saying?

"And Storybrooke is right on the ocean. Easy access for sailboats."

The hopeful look in her gaze made him smile even bigger, if that was possible. "That sounds wonderful, Swan." Swan? Mate, what are you doing; you know that's not her name.

She raised an eyebrow at the nickname and he began internally cursing himself even more. But then the corner of her mouth ticked up in an amused manner and she continued on. "I really think you'd like it. Much better than Christmas on the beach."

"Hm, I'll consider it," he teased back, but his mind was already made up. He'd just need to talk Dave into it, but that shouldn't be too much trouble.

A whirlwind of green taffeta and dark hair rushed past them, breaking his trance. "Mary Margaret?" Emma gasped, pausing mid-step as she watched her sister run by. "Shoot, I better see what's going on. She's not usually like that. I'm so sorry, but it was lovely dancing with you, Killian!"

She turned to follow her sister, but he grabbed her hand, bringing it to his lips and placing a gentle kiss on her elegant fingers. "The pleasure was mine, Emma. I hope to see you again soon." She smiled back, blushing and nodding, before dashing off. His eyes and heart followed.

"Ah, mate, the best things happen while you're dancing," he exclaimed as he returned to his seat.

"Do they?" came the somber reply from David. "I'll have to try that next time."

"What happened? Did you muck it up?" Wouldn't be the first time; Killian had been the witness on more than one occasion to David not living up to his nickname.

"Eh, probably. Kathryn came up."

Bloody Kathryn; those two had never been a good match. He'd called David a fool for even proposing—their lives were too different, and she was far too much a princess for someone as humble and hardworking as Dave.

Mary Margaret, though...it wasn't just because of his newfound feelings for Emma. He knew David was attracted to her and he had seen the same from her—he was an excellent read of people. His mind quickly formed a plan as they headed out of the restaurant.

"You know, Maine is awfully beautiful this time of year, with all that snow."

"Really?" David narrowed his eyes at Killian. "What happened to Christmas on the beach?"

"I don't know; there's just something special about a white Christmas." He winked for emphasis.

"Killian, it will take days to get there."

"That's never stopped us before."

"We don't have any winter stuff."

"That's a lie and you know it." It hadn't been all that long ago they'd stopped in New York.

"Killian…" David whined.

Feigning pain, Killian began to rub his shoulder again, feeling the bump of the scar under his shirt. "Oh, Dave, do you remember that time you stabbed me? Yeah, it's hurting again…ah!" He only just missed the half-hearted punch David sent his way, but his yelp made an older couple on the boardwalk to the docks jump. David huffed in annoyance.

"And what does that mean, mate?"

"It means we're going to Maine."