"Good news, love. There is indeed a man out there who heard your prayer. It may not be after midnight, but I am most assuredly a man, and I'm at your disposal."

Emma's jaw dropped as she opened her door to see her across the street neighbor in full pirate regalia standing before her and flirting outrageously.

It took her brain a second to catch up, but when it did, she realized what he'd just said.

"Excuse me?" she asked, folding her arms and frowning ferociously. "What, were you spying on me? You think it's fun to creep on a person working out in the privacy of her own home? You are a stalker!"

He swaggered a step farther toward her, and she put out her hand to stop his progress. "I prefer dashing rapscallion," he purred, "scoundrel?"

The way he lowered his voice, tucking his chin and looking up at her from beneath heavily lidded eyes at that last part did things to her. Things that were very definitely not PG rated.

That annoyed her more than anything.

"What you are is someone who needs to leave," she said. "Now. Before I call the cops or knee you in the jewels or something."

He looked on the point of responding, when Henry, her miniature black goldendoodle, suddenly made a flying leap through the air toward their intruder. For a moment, the man looked taken aback, but it took less than a moment for him to realize that the only threat Henry posed to him was the threat of licking him to death.

"It would seem your dog disagrees, love."

Emma rolled her eyes. A watchdog Henry was not. He'd yet to find another creature-of any species-that he didn't immediately want to be best friends with.

The man laughed as Henry jumped around him, yipping and whining in excitement, licking any bit of skin he could find. The pirate bent down and patted Henry affectionately as his laughter continued.

Emma wished she could say the sound of his laughter, the fact that he was obviously wonderful with animals, didn't do anything to her.

This man was trouble. She'd known that since the moment she'd first caught a glimpse of him through her front picture window three weeks ago. If her disastrous history with men had taught her anything, it was that hot men were not to be trusted, and though she hated to admit it, this man was hot. Like the-sun-feels-kind-of-lukewarm-in-comparison hot.

She'd noticed him throughout the past weeks. How could she not? His apartment was indecently close to her own.

Didn't help that Henry had also noticed the guy's golden retriever and, of course, was desperate to go play with him.

So far she'd managed to avoid actually coming into contact with her sexy-as-hell neighbor, but it looked like today her luck had finally run out.

Now that Henry had met his newest best friend, there would be no living with him if she didn't at least let the man in for a visit.

Emma sighed again, before stepping back and sweeping her arm out in invitation (a move that surprised him, if the way his eyebrows raised was any indication).

"You got a name," she asked, "or should I just call you annoying hot stalker guy who likes to spy on women in his spare time?"

He grinned delightely. "Hot?"

She rolled her eyes. Of course that's the part of her sentence he picked up on. She crossed her arms again, and he apparently got the picture that outrageous flirtation time was over. "Killian Jones," he said, "but my clients at the harbor have taken to calling me by my more colorful moniker. Hook."

He raised his left arm, and she noticed the rather realistic looking steel hook he held in his left hand. She supposed she should be alarmed that a stranger armed with an apparently deadly weapon was currently standing in her living room, but her instincts told her that he posed no danger to her.

In fact, even more than that, her instincts told her he was trustworthy, maybe even a good guy, and though they'd never met, she had the strangest feeling that she knew the guy; that they were destined to be friends (or more).

She recalled a conversation she'd had once with her best friend Mary Margaret Nolan. "I can't explain it, Emma," she'd said. "From the moment I met David I just knew. It was like we'd known each other forever, you know? I don't know if I believe in love at first sight, but I knew there was something there, something amazing from the very start."

Emma had scoffed at the notion. After all, Mary Margaret had always been a hopeless romantic, someone who was utterly captivated by idiotic romantic comedies that usually had Emma's eyes rolling out of her head. Only made sense that as soon as she met a guy she might like, she'd convinced herself she was living a romance novel of her very own.

But now...well, now Emma wasn't so sure. Now she was starting to wonder if Mary Margaret had a point

And she hated it.

Give him a chance! Her inner Mary Margaret said. She should ignore the voice. She really should. She knew that. Did she remember Neal? August? Or worst of all Walsh (What even was his obsession with flying monkeys?!)? They'd all seemed promising at first, and then...ugh, she didn't even want to think about how colossally badly each of those relationships had ended.

So yeah, she should toss Killian Jones out on his ass, cutting this off at the pass before it even started (not there even was a "this" right now. She'd just met the man for heaven's sake!), but somehow she couldn't. Somehow her desire to get to know him was stronger than her sense of self-preservation.

Damn Mary Margaret and her stupidly contagious hope.

"Emma Swan," she finally responded, realizing to her chagrin (and to his delight, apparently, gauging by his stupid grin) that she'd been simply staring at him for an absurdly long time. "And that flying mop that is currently trying to drown you with kisses is Henry."

He laughed, bending down again to caress her dog. "I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, Henry," he said, and then straightening again, he turned his gorgeous blue eyes on her before extending his hand. "And it is a very distinct pleasure to meet you, Swan."

She felt her face flame and her heart pound in reaction to the smoldering attention he was tossing her way

Get a grip, Emma! You'd think this was the first hot guy you'd ever met.

She took a deep breath, took his hand, and gave it one quick, businesslike pump before she turned toward the kitchen. "You want something to drink?" she asked.

"A water would be lovely, if it's not too much trouble," he answered.

"'Kay," she answered, already heading in the direction of her fridge. "Go ahead and make yourself comfortable. I'll be right back."

She took as long as she could reaching into her fridge, letting the cold air bathe her, hopefully cool her down a little. She didn't know what she was doing here; didn't know how or why she'd ended up in this ridiculous situation, but in this situation she was, and she had to make the most of it.

Maybe...and she couldn't believe she was even considering this...Mary Margaret had a point. Maybe it was time to start letting her walls down. She wasn't going to take a wrecking ball to them altogether, but maybe, just maybe pulling down a few bricks here and there wouldn't kill her.

Grabbing two water bottles, she turned back toward her living area, and her heart turned over at the sight before her. Killian sat on the couch, Henry draped across his lap, making small contented noises as Killian rubbed his belly.

You can trust him, her inner Mary Margaret insisted again. Today just might be the start of something amazing if you let it.

Maybe it would, or maybe it wouldn't, Emma thought as she handed him his water and took a seat across from him, but for the first time in years she was willing to take that chance.

"So Killian Jones, tell me a little bit about yourself."

Notes:

-Happy Friday and happy….spring? I don't even know what season it is anymore after we got a ridiculously late snow earlier this week. At any rate you get an update two weeks in a row! (Don't get too used to it; I make no guarantees that will continue, lol.)

-So Emma (with the help of her dog Henry) overcame her natural self-preservation instincts to slam the door in Killian's face and has decided to take a chance on him. I suspect her inner Mary Margaret is right. This could be the start of something amazing.

-And Henry? Yeah, he is 100% based on my dog, Bear. This is exactly how he'd react if Killian showed up at my door. (Of course, that's not saying much. It's also exactly how he'd react if [fill in the blank with the OUAT character you hate most or find most annoying] showed up at my door.)

-What do you think? Is this fluffy little story at an end, or does it need another chapter? I'm kind of torn. On the one hand, I kind of like where I left it. On the other, I mean *shrug* Who knows? There's always room for more CS romance. Maybe the muse will decide there's more to this story left to tell.