Full Disclosure: You can blame Neil Gaiman for this little Captain Swan adaptation. If you read the October story from his "Calendar of Tales" (acalendaroftales dot com) you will find the original version that inspired this. Read his because it's fantastic. I did borrow some of his dialog, and the plot, which I tinkered with just a bit.

Emma Swan didn't know what possessed her to buy the dusty, old, ship-in-a-bottle at the dimly-lit antique shop downtown, but she couldn't resist the perfect, billowed sails, nor the cheery yellow trim along its rails and hull. It was a ship fit for the open seas.

She had no idea where she was going to keep the thing.

Regardless, she stood in her kitchen, wiping away what had to be more than a few decades of dust from the bottle with a soft rag, when deep, red, smoke trailed out from the neck of the bottle. The cloud swirled around like a miniature typhoon, then revealed a man dressed head-to-toe in black leather—long coat, leather pants, pointy boots. He wore black eyeliner and a deep-cut red vest that both showed off a pleasing expanse of chest hair with skull and sword pendants nestled against it, and echoed the color of the smoke that was now dissipating.

Emma's eyebrows rose as the man stretched, groaning in a way would have a "NSFW" warning attached to it if she'd come across it on the internet. She cleared her throat, the cloth still hovering over the bottle.

"I needed that," he said, smiling at her with a toothsome grin.

"So… genie? Or pirate?" Emma asked.

The pirate genie...or genie pirate… gave Emma an approving look. "You are a bright lass! I am, in fact, a little of both. Long story for another day. How'd you guess, love?"

"The smoke was a dead giveaway on the genie front, and no one dresses like a pirate around here unless it's Halloween or a Tall Ships festival. Neither is happening right now," she informed him, putting the bottle down gently on the kitchen table.

Crossing his arms and blinking slowly, he was suddenly dressed in black jeans and boots, a dark blue paisley shirt and black waistcoat. A short leather jacket hung from one of his silver-ringed fingers, and where there had dangled a black stone from his ear a moment ago, it now had an onyx stud instead.

Emma nodded, impressed. He looked like a model in a men's magazine with his modern clothes, carefully disheveled black hair, ginger scruff, and dark lashes that set off blue-gray eyes. Not at all what she expected from either a pirate or a genie.

He bowed deeply and said, "I am the genie of the lamp. Well, bottle, really. I have it within my power to grant you three wishes." He held up three fingers and then curled two back in to wag his index finger at her. "None of said wishes can be for more wishes or I'll have to dock you one instead. Sorry." He crossed his arms and smiled tightly, raising his eyebrows. "So, milady, what'll it be?"

"Nothing, thanks. I'm good." Emma didn't even have to think about her answer.

That seemed to knock the pirate genie off his game. He blanched.

"Come now, darling, I am a genie after all. You've got three wishes at your disposal! There must be something you want!" He took a step closer. "Wealth?" he asked.

Emma stared at him blandly. He took another step.

"Fame?" he asked, his voice dropping a bit deeper as he arched an eyebrow.

Emma rolled her eyes and shook her head. The genie took another step closer and tilted his head, no doubt trying to read her.

"Magic?" he asked.

Emma paused for the briefest of moments thinking of the piles of laundry she had yet to deal with.

"Like I said, thanks, but no thanks. I'm fine," she replied. She liked to catch up on her shows while she folded. "Can I get you something to drink?" she continued. "You've got to be thirsty. Doesn't look like you've been out of that bottle in, what? A few hundred years?"

"At least," he admitted.

"So what can I get you? Coffee? Tea? Hot cocoa?"

"Don't suppose you have any rum, love?"

Emma smiled. "I just might."

She turned and opened a cabinet to the right of the stove. Shifting some bottles around, she found what she was looking for, then opened another cabinet and pulled out a couple of shot glasses and rested them on the counter. Emma poured the amber liquid into each glass then passed him one.

"Cheers," she said, lifting the glass up to toast him, then knocked it back.

When she looked up again, the genie sighed through a satisfied smile.

"Thank you, love," he said.

"No problem."

The look on his face shifted to something closer to confusion.

"You're not like anyone I've ever met," he said. "Usually, I've granted people their three wishes—usually for an excess of gold or lovers—and then been banished back to my bottle before I've even learned their names." He leaned toward her, an idea obviously surfacing in his mind. "Perhaps you are in need of a lover, darling? You need only wish it," he said, folding his arms in preparation for the words he was used to hearing.

"Name's Emma," she said. "And I'm still good. No wishes, thanks."

She poured another round, and the two drank them down. "How's the rum?" Emma asked.

He told her it was the best rum he'd ever had. Or the best rum he remembered having.

Emma motioned to the chair, and they sat down at the small, round table over another glass of rum. They both sipped their drinks this time, while Emma questioned his need to press her for wishes she didn't want. And what was a pirate, of all things, doing giving things away, anyway?

It was his lot in life, he'd said with a resigned shrug, and everyone wanted something.

"Do you want something to eat?" Emma asked as she stood up and walked to the refrigerator.

"If you do, love," he answered.

Emma rummaged around and found enough cheese, fruit, and bread for them both. They sat together, munching away, when the genie paused.

"You know, Emma, you need only wish it, and I could provide you with a meal fit for a princess! Food not even the best chefs in the land could dream of making. What do you say, darling?"

He sounded so excited at the thought of it.

"Nope. Thanks, though. Wanna go for a walk?" she asked.

"After you," he said, slipping on his jacket and following Emma out.

They walked through the quaint town, and down to the docks where boats of all sizes were moored. Emma thought the pirate genie's ship would look perfect anchored in the little harbor if it were full size and seaworthy. The two found a bench and sat looking out at the horizon. The air was just starting to hold a chill before nightfall and the sun was getting lower in the sky earlier, reflecting a warm orange onto the water.

He told her of a time before he was a genie, when he was simply a pirate, sailing the open seas, taking what he pleased. Back when he was a man named Killian Jones. But then he'd had a run-in with an evil sorcerer who'd placed a claim over the woman Killian loved. The two clashed, and the sorcerer trapped him and his ship in the bottle, banishing them to another land for all of eternity, only to be allowed out to give away the very things he'd once sought for himself. He'd been called nothing but "genie" since that day.

Emma told him how she'd been abandoned by her parents right after she was born, her hard life as a foster child and runaway. She told him how she'd been a thief and wound up in jail as a teen, but that when she got out, she turned her life around. She'd become a bail bondsperson first, and then wound up in this little town and eventually became sheriff. Once a week, she taught a self-defense class.

Killian stared at Emma, perplexed.

"Your life is good, lass. But you have no one to share it with. Make your wish, and I will bring you the perfect person—someone intelligent, honorable, dashing. A regular Prince—or perhaps Princess?—Charming!" he said.

Emma laughed. "No need. I'm fine."

They walked back to her house, the sun setting and the stars revealing themselves one-by-one.

Killian shook his head and sighed. "This isn't right. Everyone wants something."

Emma shrugged. "Not me. I've got everything I need."

Killian furrowed his expressive eyebrows.

"What do I do now?" he asked with a slight edge of panic in his voice.

"Can you fold laundry?" Emma asked. They'd reached her front door, and she unlocked it, letting them both in.

Killian looked hopeful. "Is that your wish?"

"Nah. It's just something to keep you occupied while I make us dinner."

So Killian folded her clothes better than a sales person at the GAP during the Christmas rush, and Emma made dinner. After, he even did the dishes. Emma let him stay in her spare bedroom that night.

Killian was always willing and ready to help her. He filed paperwork at the office if he saw it piling up, he went grocery shopping if he saw they were running low on Pop-Tarts (Emma's favorite), and he chopped wood for the fireplace when it got colder. He was her "bad guy" during her self-defense classes. Killian was very good at falling to the ground.

Shortly before the holidays, Killian moved out of the spare bedroom and into Emma's.

She woke early one morning and watched her handsome pirate genie as he slept. The sun began creeping into their room, glinting against the almost copper-colored hair in his ever-present scruff. He awoke and smiled at her.

She brushed away the hair that fell over his eye.

"You know what I never asked?" Emma said. "What about you? What would you want if you had three wishes?"

Killian wrapped an arm around her, drawing her up against his chest. He kissed the crown of her head.

"Nothing. I'm good."