a/n: For cs au week day three — beloved tropes. Emma moves from New York to Storybrooke and straight into a prank war between her new neighbours.

Noise had been a constant thing in the city, the hum and buzz, voices raised in anger and joy all clearly audible through the thin walls of her New York City apartment. Emma had thought that moving from the big city to the definition of small town America — a sleepy, seaside town in Maine — would bring with it a blanket of silence. Cicadas, maybe. The occasional clunk from an ancient car making its way down Main Street.

She did not expect a rooster.

Grabbing her phone from the floor to check the time, Emma pushes up from the air mattress with a groan. Henry's still asleep, of course. Her son could probably sleep through the apocalypse. Emma on the other hand... as if it's not enough that her kid was kicking her for half the night, now she gets woken up by a goddamn rooster.

Their house isn't in the country for fuck's sake. The grey Victorian that Henry chose for them is right in the middle of town. Is it so unreasonable for her to not expect a rooster crowing to wake her up at five in the morning their very first day in town?

The truck with all their worldly belongings isn't due until later that morning and they got in too late last night to make a trip to the store so there's nothing in the kitchen to help shake the sleepy cobwebs from her brain — not even shitty instant coffee. And yet there's no going back to sleep with the crowing still going on. Emma's of half a mind to start wandering the streets while still in her pajamas and try to pinpoint the exact neighbour responsible for waking her up.

Except she doesn't exactly want to introduce herself to the townspeople by knocking on doors and saying, "Hi, I'm Emma. Could you shut that thing up?"

She heads to the back porch instead, hoping that maybe the fresh, early September air will help wake her up. Emma half thinks she's hallucinating and has to do a double-take when she's greeted by the sight of a man creeping through her backyard, rooster clutched close to his chest. If this is the welcome brigade, she thinks, it could use some work.

Her trespasser is dressed all in black as if it's still the middle of the night and he's trying not to get caught. The jeans and t-shirt combo aren't exactly made for stealth however and the way he's moving across her lawn, all hunched over like he learned how to sneak from the movies, paints a picture more ridiculous than threatening.

He startles as the door closes behind her and Emma waves.

"Good morning," she calls out, walking to the edge of the deck. The wood is cool on her bare feet and she silently curses herself for not packing slippers in her overnight bag. Or extra socks.

The guy, for his part, seems torn between looking at her and at the rooster still crowing in his arms and Emma fixes him with a look while she waits for him to say something. After all, he woke her up with... whatever the hell it is he's doing. The least she can do is make him uncomfortable after catching him doing it.

"I... I can explain."

Raising a son on her own has given Emma a lot of practice at looking annoyed when she's actually a little amused and she shakes her head, pushing the hair out of her face with the back of her hand. "I can't wait."

"I didn't know anyone was living here."

"Of course. I'm surprised there aren't more people in my backyard with roosters at five in the morning. The moving truck only comes later this morning, after all."

"No, I mean—" The fowl flaps suddenly and he curses, letting the thing drop to the ground before running a hand through his hair. "Your neighbour on the other side, Robin, he and I have an ongoing... thing."

He's cute when he's flustered, whoever he is. Cute period, really which could be a problem. Emma's eyes drift over to the rooster wandering her grass. "So this is your version of a boombox, then?"

"No!" He huffs and heads towards her, stopping with his foot on the bottom of the stairs when he sees her back up a step. "Robin set me up on a blind date a few weeks back with what turned out to be the Widow Lucas and this is my way of getting him back."

"Date didn't go well?"

He winces. "Widow Lucas is better known as Granny, since she owns and runs the diner of the same name."

"So you thought you'd wake him up with a rooster as payback."

"Aye. His son just started sleeping through the night, see."

Emma frowns and crosses her arms over her chest. "Where'd you get it from?"

"The cockerel? Borrowed it from Mr. McGregor's place on the outskirts of town. Well, borrowed is a bit of a generous term, really."

She hasn't even started her new job as deputy sheriff yet, but she's starting to get a pretty good idea of what sort of complaints are in her future. "So this is a one-time thing, then?"

"Cross my heart. I'm Killian, by the way. Live down the street."

She nods. "Emma. You should probably get to catching that thing."

Killian looks over his shoulder to where the rooster is trying make an escape by ducking under her fence. "Aye. Apologies for waking you, love. We'll try to keep the shenanigans to a minimum going forward."

"I'd appreciate that," she says dryly. Emma stays and watches until he's gathered up the rooster and sheepishly made his way out of the yard then goes back inside to get dressed and ready for a day of unpacking.

There's a knock at the door not twenty minutes later and she shakes her head when she finds Killian standing on the other side with a pair of coffees, a bag boasting some fresh-from-the-bakery croissants, and a sign on his chest that says I'M SORRY. Emma hides a grin as she lets him in. Maybe small town life won't be so quiet after all.