3 months later

"If I have to see his stupid smirk one more time I swear to god I'll punch him," Emma complained to her one and only friend: Candice Coccino, one of the waitress/bartenders at her favourite local bar – The Tavern – which also doubled as her most-used spot to lure in sleazebags, mostly because Candice gave her a discount but also because it was nice to have someone for emergency backup.

Candice passed a beer to the customer on her right and studied Emma. She sighed, "Yeah but Emma, the point isn't if he's annoying or not, it's if he's hot and good in bed. You need to get laid."

"Hey, I have a sex life!" Emma protested.

"To scratch an itch, sweetie. I've seen the guys you go home with, and I'm pretty sure you're not having nearly as much fun with sex as you should be." Candice smiled condescendingly at her.

Swirling her whiskey in the glass, she retorted, "Oh yes, and you're an expert in men aren't you."

Candice shrugged, "I still know plenty about sex to know that you, Emma Swan, need a little more, shall we say passion, in your life, and I think new-neighbour might be perfect for that."

"What makes you say that?"

"Well first off, he lives right next door so the W.O.S is basically nonexistent. Secondly, if you don't like him then hate sex is always an option. Thirdly, from what you've said, he seems like your type: dark hair, scruff, leather-"

"He's actually only worn leather the night he moved in," Emma interrupted, simultaneously thinking that her friend put way too much thought into sex, "Since then it's been – what I assume is – his work shirt and just a plain black shirt; neither, of which, he seems capable of buttoning..."

"So you've essentially seen him topless?"

"Who've you seen topless Swan?"

Emma's eyes widened, praying that when she turned around, he wouldn't be there.


Three months in and Killian had already had plenty of fun teasing the blonde living across the hall – , he'd discovered – calling her 'love' at every opportunity. He'd swiftly realised that – like most women – she was affected by his charms, and flirted like there was no tomorrow.

Aside from winding up his neighbour, Killian had settled quite well into the new city. He'd procured a job at the docks, looking after the boats that people rented out for the day. Unfortunately some days he was saddled with the last shift, meaning he was back quite late – meaning he got to share the lift with Swan most days, (a really old, slow lift) which made him wonder what job had her out so late.

Another pastime he'd been indulging in was finding a suitable pub (or 'bar' as they're called) nearby. Yes, his own rum supply was usually high, but it was nice to get out once in a while.

It was this particular mission that led him to The Tavern.

The atmosphere of the pub (this was definitely a pub) was seemingly trying to replicate an old-fashioned tavern, the servers all dressed in clothes that were meant to be from a different time-period, yet still comfortable.

'Completely inaccurate,' a part of him nagged, as he peered at the interior. The thought confused him: how the hell would he know that? The townspeople hadn't told him much, but from what he gathered he definitely wasn't a historian.

When he saw his neighbour at the bar – complaining to the server by the looks of it – he couldn't help but smirk. This may just be the place for him. Manoeuvring his way over to her, he caught the barmaid's exclamations; ""So you've essentially seen him topless?"

"Who've you seen topless Swan?" he asked, pretty sure she was planning how to kill him right about now.

She drew in a deep breath and slowly turned to face him. Her green eyes quickly scanned him and she replied, "Well not you today Jones, as I see you've remembered how buttons work. Congratulations!"

The woman behind the bar looked between them in amusement. Pulling back her obviously straightened brown hair with red streaks (very helpful to the historic atmosphere) she asked him, "What can I get you?"

"Rum, please."

She got his drink and he paid, slithering into the barstool next to Swan, ignoring her eye roll.

"So," the barmaid began, "you must be Emma's new neighbour I'm hearing so much about."

Emma. So that was her first name. Well now it only seemed fitting he gave her his.

"Killian Jones," he nodded, extending his hand in greeting, a habit he'd had since...well he doesn't know.

She took it, replying, "Candice Coccino. Call me that and I'll cut you. My friends call me CeCe. Call me that and I'll skin you." As she made the threats and he felt her fake nails dig into his palm lightly; a warning. He raised a brow, questioning what he should call her. She let go of his hand, making her way over to another customer, "Everyone else calls me Candy."

With Candice gone Emma could freely continue her silent cursing of her new neighbour – Killian Jones – without fear of her brazen friend saying something that would make Emma want to slap her. The second she returned she did just that.

"You dick!" she muttered so her neighbour wouldn't hear, "you failed to mention his extreme hotness, that of which is only amplified by the accent! You didn't think that was important?"

"No, I thought the fact that he is a flirty, obnoxious douchebag, probably a player, was important."

"You're still a dick," and with that she turned to Killian, bright, toothy smile on display, and began to question him.

"So Killian, where are you from?"

"Maine," he answers shortly.

Candice didn't miss a beat, "Where's your accent from?"

"England."

"Duh, I mean where in England?"

He clenched his jaw, "Don't know."

"How do you not know?"

"I've been in the States as long as I can remember," another jaw clench.

"Why did you move to Pennsylvania?"

"Fresh start."

"What do you-" she cut herself off, staring at the door. "Emma, he's here."

Emma grins, "Thanks CeCe." She slips out of her seat, giving herself a moment to get into character, and walked up to greet the man who'd just walked in.

"Does she have a date?" Killian asked, looking at the barmaid, who was seemingly fascinated by the scene before her.

"Shh!" she snapped, "watch."

So he did. He watched Emma laugh and smile, but something seemed different...off almost. He didn't question it – he'd not actually seen her smile before anyway – until her face grew serious and the guy's grew confused and slightly scared.

It happened like lightning. The guy shot up, trying to make a dash for the exit, but Emma stood in his way. Swiftly, she had him turned around and cuffs snapped on his wrists, a triumphant smirk gracing her features – it looked good on her.

Some of the customers looked up, clearly stunned by the spectacle while others just grinned and shook their heads, Candy included.

"That one was stupid, even by regular standards. He practically ran into her!"

"He did, didn't he?" the blonde was still smirking as she held the man in place, taking a sip out of the drink she left.

"I'm right here you know!"

She rolled her eyes, "I know."

"So love," he said, eager to catch her attention before she left, "what are you? Police officer? Bail bondsperson?"

Surprise flickered across her face as she responded, "Yeah, bail bonds. You got the 'person' right and everything. Good job Jones!" she complimented, apparently too happy to comment on his use of the word 'love'.

"You're the one who did a good job, Swan. Very impressive."

"It was nothing," she stated. "Well, I'll be off."

"I think I'll go too, it's getting late."

As he got up he heard Candy call, "Hey Jones! Should I expect to see you here again?"

He knew Emma was glaring at the barmaid in a 'why-must-you-open-your-mouth-you're-putting-ideas-into-his-head' way, and that only made him more confident when he replied, "Why of course; a pub that serves delicious rum, beautiful atmosphere, great company – nothing to stop a man from making this a regular drinking spot."

Emma's perp may have felt that.

A/N: I'm having so much fun writing this! Also, you've now met Candice, one of the two main OC's for this story, who I completely adore, I hope you do too!