This idea came from a general AU prompt list on Tumblr, as well as a healthy dash of RL inspiration. Prompt: • "Your cat got my cat pregnant and now I have all these kittens please take them" AU. Plus, CS + cats-what could be better?
Emma could feel the beginning of an eye twitch. A hole, a hole kicked right through her screen door! God, this neighborhood was going down the tubes—all the parents letting their rowdy kids run around with too much time on their hands once school was out. Silly her for wanting some of that rare summer breeze to filter through the house while she was at work.
She stooped and ran her fingertip along the frayed edges, tsking. Maybe a security camera would have to be the next step, she thought, finally straightening and jerking the door open angrily. After hanging her keys on the hook in the foyer and kicking off her shoes, she stopped, glancing around curiously. Usually her cat, Koko, would announce her presence once she heard Emma arrive home. But no cat was walking down the hallway today; in fact, everything sounded eerily quiet.
"Koko?" Emma took a couple more cautious steps down the hall, towards the living room. Still no cat, but a soft, shuffling kind of sound was filtering from the couch area. Hmm…the door had still been locked, plus wouldn't a robber try to be less inconspic—
"What the hell?" A massive, orange-striped, definitely-not-Koko cat was sprawled in the center of the living room rug, squirming around restlessly. That had to be the door destroyer—and from the look of things was probably rubbing fleas into her carpet.
"Hey, you! Get out!" Emma clapped her hands loudly, hoping to scare it back outside. "Shoo!"
Pointedly ignored, she went for foot stomping next, edging slowly closer and snatching a throw pillow off the couch. "Beat it!" she snapped, lobbing the cushion at it, clipping the cat on the ear. It turned around to send a lazy hiss, and Emma blinked as a tawny form came into view. That giant behemoth was on top of her delicate little seal point Siamese! Okay, no more Ms. Nice Guy.
"BOOOO!" Emma bellowed, running at the pair, flapping her arms. Seeing a deranged-looking human hurtling towards it, the intruder finally lumbered to its feet, and seeing Emma still behind it, shot out the way it had come in. Emma ran after the cat, yanking open the screen door, hoping to see it making for wherever its owner lived. Someone was going to answer for her broken door and—and molestation of poor Koko.
For an animal of its size, it could certainly move fast when it wanted to. By the time Emma made it to the last step, it had already cleared the sidewalk and launched itself across the street. Emma watched with narrowed eyes as it ran down towards the end of the block, and disappeared into a bush. She groaned when she noticed it was a shrub nestled against the side of the very last house on the street. Which happened to be occupied by one Killian Jones.
Of all people that damned cat had to belong to, of course it just had to reside with the neighborhood thorn-in-Emma Swan's side. Excuse her, but someone had to take their responsibilities as an HOA board member seriously, and that included making sure everyone on the block kept a neat exterior. She'd first gone to visit Jones to tell him that the weeds in his yard growing almost as tall as cornstalks weren't acceptable as a front lawn. And what had he done? Shot her a cocky smirk, dashed back inside, and re-emerged from the garage with his mower. Shirtless. She'd just huffed, marched back home, and glared out the window as the dried-out weeds had been whittled down within HOA compliance. Still an eyesore, but nothing she could complain about now. He'd even had the gall to wink in her house's direction before disappearing inside, sweat rolling down his well-defined back muscles.
And so it went—every few months, it was something else. An ugly '70s Winnebago parked in front for over a week, a makeshift chicken coop—complete with a dawn-crowing rooster—suddenly springing up overnight. All the old biddies on the committee just tripped all over themselves for him, so of course it fell on Emma to be the one to go over and give Jones a piece of her—well, the HOA's—mind.
This time she relished it, because now she wasn't some fun-hating schoolmarm putting the kibosh on some harmless hijinks. Now it was personal. She started racking up the offenses in her mind as she rang the doorbell. Property damage, animal harassment, and overall pain in my ass.
He swung the door open on the second ring, wearing ripped jeans and a Home Depot tool belt with a few different wrenches hanging off it. Shirtless, naturally, perspiration matting his generous amount of chest hair. God, why was he always so sweaty? What did he get up to that—no, no, bad train of thought to go down. Well then, why was he dressed—or underdressed—like he was about to star in a cheesy porno? Oh, if that's what he was running out of his house now—
"Swan?"
Emma started, looking up. "Er, come again?" She wanted to kick herself a millisecond later; fantastic word choice there.
His brow went up, mouth curling like he could read her thoughts. "I asked if you needed servicing, love."
She rolled her eyes, crossed her arms. "More like my door does. You owe me a new screen."
He leaned against the doorjamb, completely unconcerned. "Do I, now? How d'you figure?"
She pointed accusingly at him. "Do you, or do you not, have an orange tabby that tends to wander the—"
As if he knew he was the subject of the conversation, the cat in question emerged from beneath the front stairs, brushed past Emma, and wound himself several times around Killian's legs.
"That's the one!" Emma directed her indignant finger towards the cat now. "That fat lard smashed right through my screen like the Kool-Aid man!"
Killian leaned down and hauled the cat up like a sack of potatoes, its belly spilling over his arms. Emma forced her gaze away from his flexing forearms back to his face, hoping she still looked upset.
"Now, Swan, Rusty's quite sensitive about his weight. Not a very sporting jab there. And besides, how can you be sure it was him that ruined your screen?"
"I saw him! And as his owner, you're obligated to fix it, or pay for it be fixed!"
"Technically, I'm only the old moggy's caretaker. Seems he was left behind in some move or other, and it wouldn't be very good form of me to let him waste away by his lonesome. Besides, we rather get on."
Emma raised her eyebrow. "Maybe he could do with some wasting away. I mean, just look—"
Rusty raised his head and gave her the same hiss he had when his wooing efforts had been interrupted. Killian bent his head down to the cat, nodded, then straightened again.
"I agree, Rusty m'boy. Swan, I'll fix your door. Happened to be fixing my bathroom sink already. But I'm afraid Rusty, and by extension, me, have one stipulation. An apology for the fat remarks."
"You want me to apologize…to a cat." Emma ran a hand through her hair. This was so ridiculous; maybe she should just fix it herself. But that teasing glint in Jones' bright blue eye absolutely would not let her back down from the request, stupid as it was.
He smirked. "That's how this works, yes."
She sighed, leaning over and meeting Rusty's baleful stare. "I'm sorry that you have no manners and—"
"Only sincere apologies accepted, lass," Killian chastised, stroking the cat's back.
"Fine. You, uh…you're a healthy, husky specimen, and I…had no reason to say otherwise. Forgiven?" God, she hoped nobody was strolling past on the sidewalk; they'd think she was off her meds. She extended a finger, which Rusty sniffed disdainfully, and then ignored.
Killian placed him back on the porch. "Well, you've passed."
"Oh, thank you," she shot back. "So glad I have a cat's seal of approval. When does this mean I can get my door fixed up?
He glanced down at himself, gesturing at his tool belt. "Well, Swan, looks like you're in luck: I've got my home improvement uniform already on, and—"
"Oh, you are not waltzing into my place like that! What would the neighbors say?"
"That you've finally given into a long-suppressed desire to have your way with me?" At her scowl, Killian just turned up his hands and continued. "I admit, I was a bit disappointed for your real reason for trekking over this way."
Emma felt her face flame, and discreetly pressed the back of her hand to one cheek, trying to feel if it was warm. She turned to leave. "Just put on a damn shirt, and come fix my door."
About ten minutes later, Killian showed up, dropping his tools with a noisy clatter as he openly gave her living room the once-over. Emma flopped into her easy chair, telling herself she ought to watch to make sure he didn't do a shoddy job. Yes, that was it.
"I just don't understand it," Killian mused as he got to work, "never heard of old Rusty getting up to something like this before."
"I'll tell you why," Emma snapped. "That vicious stray was attacking my cat!"
"Attacked? Nonsense," Killian scoffed. "He hasn't a violent bone in his body." Koko sidled into the room, rubbing her head against his hip. "Unless—", he glanced down. "Swan, is this a female? And has it been fixed?"
"I—why? S-she's only eight months old…," Emma sputtered defensively. "I didn't think…I don't see how that's relevant—"
Killian got up, came over and pointed at her with the pliers. "Relevant, milady, as hell nor high water nor a flimsy screen door can keep two animals in heat"—his tongue ran along his lower lip; Emma bit down on her own—"from fulfilling what nature intended." He winked at her, then squatted back down to the hole. Emma's mouth dropped open, and she marched up, poking him in the back.
"Hey! So you're saying that that feral beast is—has—"
Killian stood, clasping callused fingertips over her bare shoulders, and she cursed the telling goosebumps that rose in their wake. "What I'm saying is that perhaps a congratulations is in order, Swan. You're most likely going to be a grandmother." He reached down and scratched Koko's chin. "Rusty seems to've punched above his weight class with this one. Purebred?"
"This isn't funny, Jones!"
Killian bent down one more time to inspect his handywork, and straightened back up. "On the contrary, darling—it's really very funny." He turned to leave. "Now, don't be a stranger. We're to be in-laws, after all. Think nothing of dropping by for some morning tea or—"
Emma grabbed his sleeve. "You can't go now! You—you have to fix this!"
"Bit late for the safe sex talk, isn't it, Swan?" He shot her another flippant grin as he started down the stairs. "Like I said, pop around anytime. Otherwise, I'll expect a birth announcement in about, oh, two months time."
"But, Jones—"
"Don't fret, love—evidently even the HOA enforcer isn't infallible. Have a splendid day!" He gave her a jaunty wave, then trotted back across the street.
"You're impossible!" She hollered after him. Her annoyance levels now off the charts, she turned to kick the door closed—missing the frame and putting her foot right through the new patch of screen.
"Dammit!" she slammed the door behind her. Looked like she'd be seeing that infuriating man—and his stupid cat—again sooner than predicted.
A/N: I've been in a writing rut lately, and was surprised that the muse even got this one done. Just a warning in case the 2nd part doesn't follow very speedily. FYI, that one will probably be mainly from Killian's POV.