My god, difficult to find time of late but finally got back to this Fic! Enjoy!

...

Hook could safely say waking up with her next to him was something approaching euphoric. He'd just laid there for a time as the sun had begun to rise, looking at her as her chest rose and fell, face peaceful, golden hair strewn about her pillow as the light slowly swept over her. He already knew he'd never tire of that view; he decided this was how he wanted to wake from this moment on. Even if she did snore a bit. The only thing making this moment a little less enjoyable was Emma's fan, he thought, glaring at the sweeping sentry-like device as it whorled, sending small gales to disturb whatever it turned on. A gust of wind would ruffle the sheets and his (generally perfect) hair with such regularity it was slowly driving him a little mad.

It had humiliated him. Him, Captain Hook.

Emma had assured him that it did not run on magic and was indeed inanimate, but he was suspicious. It looked far too smug for an inanimate object. It made clicking sounds as its swiveling head swung back and threw a gale of wind in his face for the umpteenth time, leaving his hair a mess in his face.

Stop mocking me! he thought venomously, swiping his hair from his eyes and glaring at the obnoxious mechanism.

Oh, he would have his vengeance, but later he thought, turning his attention back to the peacefully sleeping Emma at his side.

Hook had to make this experience, waking up together, as wonderful for her as it was for him, and he wasn't going to leave such a thing to chance. He quickly left the bed, careful not to disturb her, dressing and popping out of the apartment for a brief moment to steal a morning rose from Belle's garden down the street. He returned promptly to put said rose on the pillow before Emma so it would be the first thing she saw.

He chosen then to deal with the fan. Very carefully, the thing had proven to be vindictive and vicious once before already.

Then he'd set to the next important task in ensuring a perfect morning – breakfast. He, admittedly, didn't expect it to be quite this hard. He's watched Emma deftly go about this kitchen and cook a quick, delicious meal, he was simply trying to fry a few eggs and some bacon (conveniently butchered and packaged in what he'd been told was something called "plastic") there was no need to fetch wood or start a fire, nor ration out the clean water - this should be easier. But the whole kitchen was against him (the fan's fault, probably) and even the packaged meat proved less convenient then he first assumed. How the bloody hell did it open? Who constructed the damn thing?

His curiosity was also doing little to assist him in this endeavour. What did this button on the fridge do? Summon small, strangely shaped blocks of ice?! Fascinating! Damn, now they were all over the floor. Why were there so many cupboards? What in the hell was this box labeled captain crunch? Was it his? Did Swan Know some other captain? He didn't like him. His cartoonish costume looked stupid.

Focus Killian!

His lack of a hand was not making this venture much easier. He was trying to make as little noise as possible but as he'd stated, the kitchen was against him. He finally found a drawer where she stashed her Cookware and was instantly dismayed.

"Really Swan?"

She had elaborately arranged her pots and lids in such a way that he correctly deduced removing the wrong one would cause them to collapse, loudly. Swan must have some fear that a thief had intentions to relive her of these.

"This is to be one of those times I wish I had a pair of hands," he muttered to himself. He carefully chose the pot that was least likely to set off this trap and slowly reached for it, gently trying to pry it loose... He chose wrong, and the consequences were ear splitting.

CRASH!

"Bloody hell!"

He doubted Swan would be sleeping through that one very long. Clock was ticking now, he had to hurry.

The pots and pan seemed to mutinously insist on banging against every possible obstacle they could, and did, encounter. Be it his hook, another pan, (always one Pan or another…) or the stove top. It didn't help that he was hurrying as he suspected Swan would soon-

"Whoa."

Damn it all to hell.

Emma had to say, she had been expecting to walk in on more of a disaster. Nothing was on fire, but all the cupboards were open. It looked as if he'd completely shredded a package of bacon trying to open it, and he'd cracked an entire carton of eggs into a pan like he planned to feed a family. He was standing there, half dressed, looking as if she'd caught him with his hook in the fish bowl. Ha, that was good she was gonna use that one later. They stood there a moment of silence taking the other in. How does simple attire flatter her so well? Killian wondered briefly before she spoke

"Okay, first question – why is there ice all over the floor?"

"No," he said, pointing a finger at her before making towards her.

"What do you mean no? That's not a – hey!" she said indignantly as he took her by one shoulder, expertly twirled her around, put his hand on her back and began pushing her back into the hall.

"You've been barred from the kitchen love, back to bed."

"This is my house!" she found herself laughing even as she said it, trying to dig her heels into the carpet. "You are not commandeering my kitchen pirate, you're going to break it."

"Yes I am, and I will do no such thing, back to bed," Killian repeated, nudging the back of one foot with his toe just enough to get her moving.

"Where is my fan?" she asked him suspiciously, glaring at him over her shoulder.

"I've relocated it to I know not where, it was a hasty operation, the details of which have fled my mind."

"Hook-"

"I did it to discourage further injury to any innocent bystanders."

"What innocent bystanders!? It's a fan from Walmart located in my bedroom, not a lot of foot traffic Killian!"

"Semantics." He did the spinning thing with her again and sat her down on her bed. Before she could do or say anything he plucked the rose from her dresser and put it back in her hand.

"Try something new darling, it's called trust."

He gave her a quick peck on the cheek before retreating from the room back to the kitchen. Emma gaped after him for a moment, looking back at the perfect rose… it looked familiar.

"Isn't this from Belle's garden?" she yelled from her room. The sound of pans clanging got louder.

"Can't hear you love! Cooking!"

"Oh my god," Emma muttered. Yet she was smiling, chuckling at the thought of it. Killian Jones was a pirate to the bone.

...

Aww, love is in the air! (or is take the smell of burnt food?) only the smoke detector will tell!
And for anyone keeping up on the status of my book - been a little delay, looking like mid September now, lets hope there are no others!

Much luvs guys, you are the best! PS OMG ITS ALMOST TIME FOR SEASON FOUR SOMEBODYHOLDME!