Notes: This was written for fallforcs but I missed the original deadline. Many thanks to the marvelous artist, Rouhn, who has created such a heart-warming piece to accompany this story on tumblr (at Lizacstuff), and to my darling friend, Shelley who generously gave her beta services and helps me be better in so many ways.

xxx

The first week that Emma Swan and Killian Jones lived together went extremely well, mostly because he wasn't there. The day after they'd settled that Killian would sublet from Mary Margaret, David had shown up with his truck and they had moved all her stuff out that day. Mary Margaret had claimed it was because she wanted to give Killian flexibility on when he could move in, but Emma knew that David and Mary Margaret were just that in love and anxious to start their life together.

It was lovely, really, and she loved them both and was so happy for them, but it sometimes made her feel inadequate. She knew she would never find what they had, knew there was no use trying. It's not that she had given up precisely; it's just that she knew it probably wasn't in the cards for her. And that was okay, it really was. Some people were just unlucky when it came to love. She was one of those people. Moreover, now, she had so much that she'd never had before, a steady job, friends, a great place to live and now school. She was content. As long as Killian didn't turn out to be a gigolo or an ax murderer the future looked bright.

Truth be told she enjoyed that first week. Mary Margaret and David helped her move her things so that she could enjoy the larger bedroom that had been Mary Margaret's, but then she had several blissful days alone. Killian was still in Portland, he had done little more than drop a few boxes by on Monday while she was at work. It was a little like she was a teenager and her parents had left her home alone. She stayed up late watching cable shows in the living room, this was novel because Mary Margaret was skittish about the sex and violence on HBO, she left dishes in the sink, a no-no with Mary Margaret, and she took long baths with the bathroom door wide open so she could hear the stereo in the living room.

She was taking one of those long baths on the night before Thanksgiving when unbeknownst to her, Kilian let himself into the loft with the key he had gotten from Mary Margaret the week prior.

And that's how Killian Jones ended up seeing Emma Swan naked on their first official night of living together.

xxx

Work had been tough that day. Emma was called to a domestic, something that didn't happen in Storybrooke very often, but was a bit more common as the holidays approached. All had been resolved between Ashley, a nice young woman who knew Mary Margaret, and her stepmother, who was not all that nice. The whole thing ended up being much ado about nothing, the stepmother liked to shout about how a turkey should be prepared and the neighbors had had enough, but it had still been stressful. Next was a drunk and disorderly, at 5pm no less, at the Rabbit Hole, involving some of the men who worked in a local mine.

Once she was off-duty all she'd wanted was a good dinner, which in this case was take out from Granny's, some TV and then a nice relaxing bath before bed, especially since she knew the next day would be a long one. It was Thanksgiving. Holidays were never her favorite, but this one should be... okay. Busy, but okay. She was working the early shift and then was due around 3pm at David and Mary Margaret's for dinner.

She'd made herself a hot chocolate, grabbed one of Mary Margaret's seasonal pumpkin whatever candles, and headed upstairs to pamper herself. It was while she was luxuriating in a very bubbly bath, Norah Jones wailing from the living room - Spotify was curating songs from a playlist she'd found entitled "Bath Chillaxing"—that she remembered the pie. She hit her forehead with one soapy palm and muttered, "Damn it!" She was supposed to be making a pumpkin pie for tomorrow and the pre-bought crust was still in the freezer.

She scrambled out of the bath, not bothering to drain it or clean up in her haste, grabbed a towel from the rack, patted the moisture off herself, then wrapped said towel around her dripping hair, and took off towards the kitchen, specifically the kitchen freezer.

Naked.

xxx

All Killian Jones wanted was a cup of tea. Well, actually, what he really wanted was a beer or maybe some rum, but he knew he didn't have any of that handy. However, when he'd signed the sublease agreement, Mary Margaret had given him a very thorough tour, had shown him the stash of staples, things like coffee and tea, and invited him to help himself. Since he knew there was tea in his new loft, tea it would be. He'd have to stop at the grocers tomorrow. Except, he reminded himself, that tomorrow was American Thanksgiving and if memory served from last year, his first year in the states, not much was open on the holiday. Friday then. Though he would get hungry before then, surely there was some restaurant or convenience store open in Storybrooke tomorrow? He remembered his friend Robin mentioning he was closing his pub for the holiday. If worse came to worst he had some powerbars in his car. Powerbars and tea, it would do the job, but he knew his American friends would pity that as a Thanksgiving feast.

Before he unlocked the door to the loft with his key, Killian knocked. Mostly just to let Emma know he was there so she didn't draw her firearm on him when he entered. She seemed like she might be trigger happy, so startling her was not on his agenda. She didn't answer a second knock, and when he opened the door and did a quick scan of the living area, he didn't see her. However, he knew it was likely she was home as the music from the stereo was on and it was loud. He hadn't really picked Emma for this kind of music, too bluesy and soulful. The woman was full of surprises. The first being how ridiculously attractive she was. When Belle, from the management agency had told him about the situation, he hadn't really been looking for a roommate. Even so, he'd had no qualms about living with a woman. He was there to work. Moreover, he had still considered himself to be in mourning- even though his love had died five years prior- and not interested in dating, so potentially being attracted to the woman who was to be his flatmate was not even a possibility in his mind. However, he hadn't bargained on her being possibly the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. He hadn't bargained on Emma.

As he entered, he looked around, but didn't see her. He did, however, see signs that she'd been there. In addition to the music and the lights, on the living room coffee table sat a Styrofoam to-go container. He peered down and saw several onion rings and remnants of what looked like a toasted cheese sandwich.

"Emma?" He called in a raised voice, but the music pretty much swallowed his call.

He walked back to the entrance and dropped his backpack and duffle bag by the door, and then headed back down to the car to get his other bag and suitcase.

When he came back inside, he sat his suitcase and bag by the duffle, shut the door and walked into his new home. It had been a long day. He'd had to work and then the drive from Portland should have taken three hours, but it had taken over four, probably due to holiday traffic. He made a beeline for the kitchen and that cup of tea he'd promised himself.

As he walked, his attention was on the living room, his eyes trying to find the source of the music. If Emma didn't appear soon, he would have to attempt to turn it off himself and he wasn't sure where it was coming from. That's probably why he didn't see Emma until he was already in the kitchen; her back was to him as she rummaged in the freezer. She was naked.

He froze. Emma. Naked. His new flatmate. Naked. A beautiful woman. Naked. Her back was to him, so all he could see was a boundless expanse of alabaster skin, the plains of her lightly muscled back sloping down to the curve of her bum. His heart thumped in his chest and his mouth went dry. What should he do? Leave? Announce his presence? Avert his eyes? All of the above? Before he could act on any of those things, she turned, saw him, dropped what was in her hand and let out a blood-curdling scream.

That shook Killian out of his naked-Emma induced stupor. He put up his hands as if to claim his innocence and backed several steps away. He turned his head in an attempt to give her privacy, as she screamed at him, but he still saw glimpses of creamy skin and long legs and pert breasts and curvy hips and a slender stomach.

Chaos reigned for a good thirty seconds. Killian waving his arms as if to disclaim any wrongdoing, Emma trying to cover herself with her hands, until she had finally calmed down enough to remove the towel from her hair and wind it around her torso and cover everything that should be covered. She ran to the living room, found the remote for the stereo, shut it off and then whirled on him in anger. Once there was silence, she filled it by yelling, "WHAT IN THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?"

With that question, Killian thought it would be okay to look again. He removed his hands from his face and his gaze found Emma standing in the living room. Her hair hung around her face in messy, damp tendrils, a white towel wound strategically around her midsection, the swell of her breasts straining against the terry cloth as she panted from the adrenaline rush she'd just experienced. She had one hand over her heart as if she was trying to still it; the other planted angrily on her hip. She was glaring at him in a way that made him glad she couldn't conceal a weapon in that towel.

Unconsciously, Killian mimicked her by putting his own hand over his heart; it was definitely beating faster than it had a minute ago, for a variety of reasons, and focused on her question. What in the hell are you doing here? He met her eye. "I live here?" It came out as a question. Perhaps Mary Margaret hadn't told her it was a done deal? "I signed the lease last week," he ventured.

"I know," Emma replied angrily, "But I thought you wouldn't be here until at least Monday."

"Oh," Killian replied. He wasn't sure what to say to that. He had never said he wasn't coming until Monday. "Why?"

"Why what?" Emma asked.

"Why did you think I was moving on Monday?" Killian still found it best to avert his eyes, so he trained them on a spot past her ear, as if studying the wall for cracks.

"I guess... I just..." Emma paused. Why did she think that? Surely, she hadn't just assumed such a thing. Or had she? "I didn't expect you to show up at 10pm when you haven't even moved your stuff in yet. I thought there would be... movers and stuff," she finished lamely.

"But I did."

"You did what?" Emma demanded.

"I did move in."

"What are you talking about?"

"I brought my belongings on Monday while you were out."

"Those boxes in my old room? Your belongings consist of four cardboard boxes?"

"Five boxes," Killian corrected her and then with his prosthetic pointed to the area by the door, "and those bags." He had to admit that his possessions were not much. He shrugged apologetically, "When you go from the Navy to living in another country, you don't accumulate much."

"Oh." For the first time Emma allowed herself to study him. It was only the second time she'd ever seen him. In the intervening days, she'd decided that her mind had exaggerated how good looking he was. No one could be that good looking. She was wrong, someone could be that good looking and he was standing in her kitchen while she was almost naked in the living room. She felt goosebumps rise on her arms and she wasn't sure why, was it because it was November and she had wet hair and was in a towel, or because he was so good looking?

"Mary Margaret is allowing me use of her bedroom furniture for the time being."

"Kinda girly." Emma taunted. She wasn't sure why she said it, mostly because she was completely discombobulated.

"Not as girly as all your naughty bits hanging out." Killian shot back, mostly without thinking.

Emma looked down and realized her towel had sagged. Her cheeks flamed and she tugged the towel tightly around her. Embarrassed. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, and the anger had subsided, she was left with embarrassment. Her new, extremely handsome roommate had seen her naked on the first night.

Well done.

She checked to make sure everything was covered and then started backing out of the living room towards the hallway to her room. "I'll just be... in my room. Lock up, won't you?"

Not knowing what else to do, Killian just nodded and watched her disappear down the hall.

She shut the door to her room and once alone Emma flopped on the bed. What had just happened? Why had she assumed he wasn't moving in until Monday? In her defense, she really had expected him to schedule a time for movers and for it to be a big production. Not for him to arrive with a few suitcases at 10pm the night before a national holiday. Emma drug herself off the bed and to her vanity. She ran a comb through her hair, and then found a full set of pajamas in her dresser and put them on. She usually slept in a T-shirt, but tonight she thought it best if she was as covered as possible. Lest she meet her new roommate again, though that was unlikely since she had no intention of leaving her room.

What a humiliating beginning. She had no idea how she was ever going to face him again. Maybe she could evict him? That thought ran through Emma's mind as she climbed into bed and for some time before she finally drifted off to sleep. Things were sure to seem better in the morning.

Xxx

Emma let her head fall against her desk, and then knocked her forehead against the wood several times for good measure. The night before she'd told herself that by the morning she'd be laughing about it. She wasn't. At least not yet. What had she gotten herself into with this guy as her roommate? He hadn't even really moved in yet and he'd already seen her naked. She had managed to live with Mary Margaret for over 10 months and nothing like this had ever happened. Why now?

When Emma's alarm went off at six that morning, she'd groaned, stretched and then smiled remembering it was Thanksgiving and she had a good meal ahead of her. She was sure David and Mary Margaret would pull out all the stops for dinner. Then she remembered the night before. Her smile turned to a grimace and she buried her face in a pillow, wondering if it was feasible for her to hide in this bed for the rest of her life.

She had to get to work. Her hair was half-wet when she'd gone to bed, which meant she'd woken up to wild, out-of-control tangles. She'd stuck her head tentatively out of her bedroom door, looked around surreptitiously and then ran to the bathroom, as if that would help her avoid her new roommate if he were up and about. Once there she locked the door, then stripped down in order to take a quick shower and wash her hair. It wasn't until she was halfway through her shower that she realized the bathroom had been clean and tidy when she entered. The bathtub drained, her half-drank mug of cocoa gone, the pumpkin candle snuffed; there were no remnants left of her bath the night before.

Killian. Killian must have drained the tub and cleaned up after her. She felt a flash of irrational anger at him. How dare he do something so invasive! However, that only lasted for a couple of seconds, before she grudgingly admitted to herself that it was actually a nice thing for him to have done and it was a good thing he'd taken care of the candle that she had completely forgotten about. Plus, he probably had wanted to use their shared bathroom.

She sighed as she shut off the water and stepped out of the shower. So far, she was the one who was a terrible roommate. Which... maybe that was a good thing? Maybe he would hate living with her so much he would move out. That would be easier than evicting him. Of course that meant she would have to restart the roommate finding process again, and that was almost less appealing.

She stayed in the bathroom until her hair was dry and styled and her makeup applied. It was childish, she knew, but she wasn't ready to run into him. Yet. Once that was done, she made another mad dash to her bedroom, dressed in her usual uniform of boots, jeans and sweater. Then inspiration struck, she riffled through her closet until she found an acceptable dress and shoved that in a bag. She had originally planned to stop back home to change before dinner, but now... she didn't really want to run into Killian. She'd dress at the station, and then go directly to the farm and avoid him completely. Perhaps she'd get home late enough that she wouldn't have to see him at all that day.

It was on her drive to work that she remembered the pie. She hadn't baked the pie for Thanksgiving. She had been so busy being seen naked by her new hot, British roommate that the pie had been forgotten, and she had no time to make it before she had to be to the farm at three o'clock. What was Thanksgiving without pumpkin pie? She sighed remorsefully as she realized she, Emma Swan, was going to ruin David and Mary Margaret's first Thanksgiving living together.

It was while getting coffee at Granny's, the only place that seemed to be open on the holiday, that salvation came. Granny's sold pie. Of course, for a holiday centered around pie most people ordered them weeks in advance, but maybe she could still get one. The server, a gal named Ruby who she knew a little through Mary Margaret, informed her that Granny always baked extra for drop-ins and she was lucky she was early. However, there was no pumpkin left, she could buy a pecan though. Ruby insisted that Granny was famous for her pecan pie and assured her David loved it. Emma tried not to show her disappointment as she accepted the not-pumpkin pie. Emma liked pecan pie, but it wasn't her assignment. However, it was the best she could do under the circumstances. Mary Margaret and David had been so good to her, how could she have forgotten to bake the pumpkin pie? Deep down she knew it wasn't Killian's fault, but she blamed him. A little. Or a lot. Another point in the eviction column.

Thank goodness, she'd thought to pack something to wear. She knew she would have to face Killian sooner or later. But she wanted it to be later. Much later. She couldn't just text him an eviction notice. Could she? Of course the problem was she wasn't sure she had real grounds to evict him, or even if she could do it. Technically the lease was still in Mary Margaret's name, so maybe Mary Margaret would have to do the evicting? She didn't know, but she could find out.

Emma took out her phone and hit Mary Margaret's number. When the other woman answered, she said without preamble, "He has to go."

"What?" Mary Margaret asked, a little breathless.

"Killian has to go."

"Why?" Mary Margaret panted.

"What are you doing?" Emma asked. "You sound like you're running a marathon."

"Thanksgiving is a marathon. A cooking marathon." Mary Margaret said with a grunt. "Give me one second."

Emma waited patiently for Mary Margaret to return, feeling like an even worse friend. Mary Margaret was spending all day making a wonderful Thanksgiving meal and Emma couldn't even get the pie right.

"Sorry, I was just heaving the turkey into the oven. It's in! I love this kitchen, Emma, the oven is so much bigger and nicer than ours. David's mother did an excellent job of renovating a few years ago." Anyway, I'm at a good place so I have a few minutes to chat. Now, what were you saying about Killian?"

"Is Ruth there? Did she come back for the holiday?" Emma asked, ignoring her question about Killian, wanting to prolong giving her the bad news about the pie. Last Emma had heard it was up in the air if Ruth was going to make it back. She'd moved to Florida a few months prior and planned to spend the winters there. When David had proposed to Mary Margaret, Ruth had promptly decided to refurbish the apartment next to the barn into a mother-in law suite for visits and summers and left the farmhouse to David and his new bride. Not only was Mary Margaret getting the best guy, she was also getting the best mother-in-law. Which was great, because her own mother had died when she was a pre-teen. She'd then lost her father when she was a teen. It was one of the things over which Emma and Mary Margaret had bonded. They were both orphans, though Emma never knew her own parents at all. Plus, Mary Margaret did have a stepmother, though, the relationship there was strained at best.

"Not yet. Actually, David just left to pick her up from the airport. Which is great, really great."

Emma could hear the forced cheeriness in Mary Margaret's voice. Emma knew she adored Ruth, so it couldn't be from a lack of desire to see her. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Mary Margaret said brightly.

"Mary Margaret..." Emma said imploringly.

Mary Margaret exhaled loudly, and Emma could almost picture her crinkled brow. "It's just that it's our first holiday as an engaged couple, in our home, but it used to be Ruth's home, and she used to cook the Thanksgiving dinners. What if Ruth doesn't like it? What if I can't do Thanksgiving like she did? What if David doesn't like the way I make Thanksgiving dinner? I want everything to be perfect and I would have been okay with a year to practice before his mother was here. Judging me."

Emma's stomach twisted. No pumpkin pie was definitely not perfect. However, she set that aside for a moment.

"First, take a deep breath." Emma said firmly. "Second, what are you talking about? David loves your cooking, I mean loves it. He loves it so much that he often talks about it at work the next day. Third, even if he didn't love your cooking, he loves you so much he wouldn't care. You could feed him grass for Thanksgiving and he would think it was the best thing ever. Third, or… did I already do third? Fourth. Fourth, I've met David's mom on multiple occasions. She is a lovely woman who adores you as much as you adore her. I know she adores you because I've seen it, plus David told me she adores you. You know that she just wants to spend time with you. I can't think of a less judgmental future mother-in-law."

"Right," Mary Margaret said, then added, "You really think so?"

"I really do. There is no way you can mess this up, but..."

"But what?"

"Well, there's no way for you to mess this up, but there is a way for me to mess it up. I'm really sorry."

"What is it?" Mary Margaret sounded alarmed. "You can't come? You're stuck at work and you won't make it?"

"No-" Emma started before Mary Margaret interrupted her.

"Emma Swan, if you're bailing on this dinner to go home and be antisocial and eat poptarts I will never forgive you. You just heard me, I'm a wreck, I need your moral support."

Emma laughed at that and her heart warmed at the sincerity in her friend's voice. It was novel for her to feel so wanted. "It's not that. I'm still coming, it's just that..."

"What?" Mary Margaret prompted when Emma didn't finish her sentence.

"I forgot to make the pie and it's all Killian's fault." Emma was talking fast and her voice was a bit higher than normal. "But don't worry; I bought a pecan pie from Granny's. That's her specialty and Ruby said David really likes it. I'm not coming empty handed. We will still have pie, really good pie even, better than I could make, just not pumpkin. I'm really sorry."

"Is that all?" Emma could hear the smile in Mary Margaret's voice and felt herself sag with relief as her friend continued talking. "Don't worry about it Emma. Pie is pie. Not a big deal, though I do have one question."

"Anything, shoot."

"Why is it Killian's fault you didn't make the pie and is that why you want him gone?"

Emma didn't answer. The very idea of telling Mary Margaret what had happened had her mortification rushing back.

"What is it, Emma, what happened?"

Emma squinched her eyes closed as tightly as she could, as if doing so would shut out the embarrassment. "He saw me naked last night and I was so humiliated by the whole thing I shut myself in my room and forgot about the pie."

"He what?" Mary Margaret fairly shrieked.

"You heard me."

"He saw..."

"Everything," Emma replied.

"How exactly?"

"It's too embarrassing," Emma moaned.

"Just tell me what happened. Did you have sex with him?"

"NO!" Emma shouted, "How could you think that?"

"I don't know... it's something people get naked to do."

"I knew this would be mortifying, I'm hanging up now," Emma muttered into the receiver.

"No!" Mary Margaret replied almost as vehemently as Emma had when denying the sex question. "Now it's your turn to take a deep breath. You're a sheriff's deputy, give me the facts. Why didn't you have any clothes on?"

Just the facts. Emma could do this. "I was taking a bath."

"He barged in on your bath?" Mary Margaret asked, sounding scandalized.

Emma wanted to say, yes, that would be much less embarrassing and help convince Mary Margaret to evict him. However, she knew she couldn't be that unfair. "Not exactly."

"What do you mean 'not exactly?'"

"I was in the bath last night about 10 o'clock, when I suddenly remembered the pie, and I remembered the crust was still in the freezer. I knew I had to get that out immediately to defrost so I leapt out of the tub-"

"You leapt out of the bathtub?" Mary Margaret asked trying to stifle a giggle at the image.

"Pretty much!" Emma replied indignantly. "Now do you want me to finish the story or not?"

"Oh, I want you to finish the story. Actually, I'm going to get myself a cup of coffee for this one. Please continue. When does Killian seeing you naked happen?"

"I'm getting to that. Anyway, I was in a hurry to defrost the pie crust-"

"You know, you don't really have to defrost the crust, you can put it right in the oven with the crust still frozen, just add a few minutes onto the baking time."

Emma took a sip of her own coffee from Granny's and then huffed, "Information that would have been helpful last night. Maybe then I wouldn't have leapt out of the tub in a panic, ran to the kitchen completely naked except for the towel which was wrapped around my hair, not my body."

"Oh," Mary Margaret said failing to keep the laugh out of her voice. "You forgot Killian was there and-"

"No! I didn't forget because I didn't know! I thought I was alone. I didn't hear him come in, he hadn't even moved in yet, I wasn't expecting him. I was in the bath; the music was on in the living room, I had it turned up so I could hear it in the bathroom. So there I was at the freezer, taking out the crust that apparently didn't need to thaw, to thaw, and when I turned around, there he was! In the kitchen! Right behind me! Staring! That's why it's his fault I didn't make the pie, and that's why he has to go."

Emma's voice had taken on an almost hysterical quality by the time she got to the end of the story. She took a few deep breaths, and didn't fail to hear the muffled sounds from the other end of the phone. "Are you laughing at me?"

"No." Mary Margaret lied.

"You are. You're laughing at me."

"I'm not laughing at you," Mary Margaret tried for dignified but she was still gasping for breath. "I'm laughing with you."

"This is serious, Mary Margaret, I'm mortified."

"I can hear that." Mary Margaret said, "But why?"

"Are you serious? Why am I mortified?"

"Yeah."

"Are you not listening? He saw me naked!"

"So?"

"So? Come on, he saw me with all my jangly bits flopping about. Naked. No clothes."

"Emma. I know you're guarded, believe me, I know. But nudity is a natural thing. Besides I have seen you in your bikini and believe me when I tell you, you don't have anything that flops about, you have a slammin' bod."

"Thank you for that... I think." Emma grimaced not sure the compliment made her feel any better. "However, that's not the point."

"Okay, let's regroup. What did Killian do?"

"I told you, he stared!" Emma's voice was full of accusation.

"Em-ma," Mary Margaret said. "He's a man, and you have the aforementioned slammin' bod and he happened upon you naked. I think we can excuse him from staring. He was probably too startled to look away, now the question is was he creepy about it? Did he leer? Did he purposefully make you uncomfortable or anything like that?"

Emma thought back, thought back to Killian's reaction. He had been as flustered as she was. Plus, once she'd turned around, he'd tried to shield his eyes. Maybe at first he had been too startled to look away. And come to think of it he hadn't said anything designed to offend. Could he have been as mortified as she was? "No, he didn't leer and he didn't try to make me uncomfortable."

"Well that's good. What did he say?"

"Um..." Emma pinched the bridge of her nose with two fingers as she tried to remember. "Mostly it was me yelling at him, asking him what he was doing there. And him explaining that he was moving in. There is that, don't you think it's weird he was moving in at 10pm the night before a holiday."

"He moved in on Monday, I thought you knew." Mary Margaret said apologetically. "That's why I moved out a few days early, so that he could be flexible and bring things down when he had time."

"No, I knew, but I thought that was a just a few things, not everything he owned. I was expecting movers and a scheduled time... and stuff." She once again finished lamely. "Anyway, I wasn't expecting him, he showed up, now he's seen me naked and he has to go."

"Emma it doesn't really sound like his fault that he saw you naked."

"Are you blaming me?" Emma asked indignantly.

"Of course not, it was an accident. An embarrassing accident. However, I predict it's a story you'll both be telling for laughs by Christmas."

"No way. No one is to hear this story, and the both of us aren't going to be doing anything. Killian will move out, and go back to where he came from, preferably Europe, we'll never see him again, and you and I will take this to our graves."

"Emma," Mary Margaret's voice held a motherly tone. "Killian's job is here, at least for the next year, possibly longer if he likes it. He's not leaving Storybrooke because he saw you naked."

"Okay, but that doesn't mean I have to live with him!"

"He signed a lease and from what I can tell he's done nothing to break it. Besides, you don't really want to turn him out on the street do you?"

"Yes. That's what I want. I want you to turn him out on the street." Emma knew she was being juvenile and irrational, but that was a big reason he needed to go. She barely knew him, and he was the reason she was acting crazy. What could happen if they got to know each other better? Best just to cut ties with him now, with the added bonus that she would never have to face her embarrassment over the hot guy seeing her naked.

"Me?"

"Yes. You're the one on the lease. We're both subleasing from you."

"Come on, Emma. Let's take a breath. He has barely moved in, and remember how hard it was to find someone in the first place? You don't want to go through that again."

"I don't, but-"

"But nothing. I really think you need to give this some time. He's a very nice guy. Did you know he can shuffle a deck of cards one-handed?"

"Wh... what?" Emma stuttered. "What does shuffling cards have to do with anything?"

"Nothing really. But there was a deck in the cabinet when I was giving him the in-depth tour of the place on Monday and we got to talking and he showed me. It's pretty slick. It's also a reminder that the poor man has one hand. Plus, David talked to Graham. Graham didn't get into details, but said Killian's had a pretty rough go of it. I think it would be nice for him, for both of you, if something went right. You're both good people. You both need a roommate. So give him a chance."

Feeling chastened, Emma didn't respond. So Mary Margaret added, "I'll take your silence as an 'I'll think about it.' Now, I have to get back to cooking and you have to get back to work. I'll see you at three, with the delicious pecan pie. Bye."

xxx

The rest of Emma's day at the station passed uneventfully. Thankfully, most of the citizens of Storybrooke seemed to be celebrating the holiday and keeping out of trouble. Mostly she tried not to think about what Mary Margaret had said. Both she and Killian needed something to go right. However, maybe him seeing her naked was a sign that things weren't right. That they were very, very wrong and they should both cut their losses before they were stuck in a bad situation. Did Mary Margaret ever think of that?

Around half past two, she headed to the small locker room at the station and put on the clothes she'd brought, an emerald green wrap dress made of soft jersey. It had long sleeves, but clung to her in all the right places and showed either a bit or a lot of cleavage depending on how she tied it. For a low-key event like Thanksgiving dinner, she tied it so there was a tasteful hint. Modest, but flattering.

Emma turned onto the lane leading to the farm; the tires of her old Volkswagen bug crunched the fallen leaves that were scattered everywhere. She took a deep breath and marveled at how quaint it all was.

She quickly made a decision; she wasn't going to think about Killian or her living situation for the next few hours. She was going to have a picturesque Thanksgiving at a farm with actual friends. She'd never had anything like this before and she was determined to enjoy it. Thanksgiving at the farm would be a Killian-free zone.

The first thing Emma noticed when she pulled up to the house, were the number of cars. A few days earlier at work, Emma had asked David how many people were coming to dinner, but he'd been clueless and said something about Mary Margaret's penchant for picking up strays. Emma couldn't argue with that, as she'd been one of them.

Besides David's truck and Mary Margaret's car parked in front of the house, there was an expensive looking late model sedan that Emma knew belonged to Mary Margaret's stepmother Regina, a sleek black SUV and a beat-up Subaru Outback. Emma was surprised that Mary Margaret's stepmother had shown up, she was also the town mayor and usually too busy for any family gatherings. Regina might have been Mary Margaret's stepmother, but was only a few years older than Mary Margaret, since she'd been about 20 years younger than her late husband when they married. She was a cold, business-like woman and she seemed to resent Mary Margaret for some reason, so Emma didn't much like her; despite that fact Mary Margaret was always trying to forge a relationship. For that reason alone, Emma was glad the mildly-evil stepmother deigned to show up at the farm.

The second thing Emma noticed was a small boy, bundled up against the cold, chasing David's dog, Wilby, through the leaves in the yard. What was a small boy doing there? She hadn't been expecting any children.

Emma gathered her purse and the pie from the car and headed into the house, feeling quite curious about the two cars and the small boy, and to whom they belonged. She hadn't recognized the other two cars, but that didn't mean much. She didn't know all of David and Mary Margaret's friends and those she did, she didn't necessarily know what they drove. She only knew Regina's car because she was the mayor and occasionally was at the Sheriff's office on business. The other two could belong to anyone.

Emma took a deep breath and headed inside, determined to relax and enjoy her first real traditional Thanksgiving celebration.

xxx

To be continued...