Author: This was written for a Tumblr prompt "Hook cooks an exotic meal for Emma and surprises her with his culinary skills". Okay, the meal isn't really that exotic, but this is where the muse went. Will be two chapters.

For a realm without magic, it was certainly impressive in other respects.

A cornucopia was spread out before him, tiny glass jars of cumin, coriander, cinnamon, star anise, fennel seeds, and dozens more. Shelves were stocked with sugar, both coarse brown and refined white, teas, flour, there was eggs by the dozens and so much butter that he knew it couldn't possibly be churned by hand here. In the Enchanted Forest many of the items on display were the rarest of luxuries, reserved for the nobility. Especially the spices, while he had always preferred a cargo of gold or silver, he had certainly not turned up his nose whenever he had plundered a ship carrying vanilla beans or saffron. They were nearly as valuable as precious metals there, and treated as such, but here they were all just sitting out in the open, marked with prices that made his jaw nearly drop.

Emma had taken some of his gold coins and exchanged them for this realm's strange paper currency. He had tried to give her an ingot, but she gave it back and only grabbed a few pieces of eight, leaving in her yellow vessel and returning with a fat envelope that she handed to him. A number was written on it, Killian had committed it to memory. Now standing in the aisle of the shop Emma called a supermarket, he compared the prices before him to that figure. If there was one thing a pirate could calculate quickly in his head, it was an exchange rate. Based on what he saw, the sackful of treasure he had brought with him to this land was more then enough to let him dine like a king every night for the rest of his life, and that was only the gold, not the silver or the gems.

Having moved out of Granny's into a small flat with a lovely view of the water, he had come to stock his larder. It was a familiar action, he'd spent many a day in port buying barrels of salt beef and hardtack for his crew, but here he didn't have to worry about spoilage during a long voyage and could indulge in some of the variety on offer.

Several of the little jars were placed in the cart he pushed in front of him. Killian made his way over to the aisle where the fruits and vegetables were displayed and picked out bunches of greens and packages of berries. Tropical fruit was displayed next to earthy root vegetables, it was astonishing to see mangos next to parsnips and pineapples across from potatoes. A bag of oranges and one of lemons made their way onto his pile, he was too much a sailor to ever really stop worrying about scurvy, even if he no longer had a ship.

The next aisle was filled with brightly coloured packages with strange names, Twizzlers, Reese Peanut Butter Cups, Gummi Bears, Oreos. Henry was partial to some of these things, Killian grabbed the ones that he remembered seeing in the lad's hands and put them in his cart. He pushed on, to the display of chocolate.

Emma liked chocolate.

Killian hadn't realized there was so many different kinds, milk, dark, white, with almonds, caramel filled. He didn't know which kind was her favourite (a fact he needed to remedy) so he operated on the assumption that the most expensive was the best quality, and took one of each marked Ghirardelli.

The shopkeeper gave him a dubious look when he presented the cart, but he packed all of the items into bags and told him the total cost. Exotic delights from across the land, paid for with a single piece of paper. Killian hefted his purchases, shaking his head slightly. A strange realm indeed.

His new quarters were small, but adequate for his needs. He could almost believe the deck of the Jolly was still under his feet when he trod the wide pine planks, aged and whitewashed. His bed was next to a window, where he lay at night and looked out to the sea. He could hear the crash of the waves against the shore, that eternal song he'd listened to for centuries while moored off the coast of Neverland. No matter what the realm, the melody of the ocean was always the same.

Killian had a small hearth and a tiny galley. He put the provisions away, all neat and orderly in the cabinets and on the shelves. Space was at a premium, but he was well used to that, it was like the Jolly.

The floor didn't tilt and rock under his feet, he was tethered and still, and it was nothing like the Jolly.

Emma's dwelling was only a few minutes walk away, he could see it from his window.

That exchange had been entirely in his favour.

Swan was not presently at home. She was at the sheriff's station with her father. Henry was with Regina, and Killian knew Emma was expecting dinner at Granny's when she had finished her duty shift, but he had other plans.

Fresh caught fish, bought right off the boat before they had even crossed land. He mixed seasonings and dusted the resulting concoction over the filets and set them aside. Potatoes were coated with a little oil and tossed into the hearth to bake. Killian set the table, laying out the crockery and folding the napkins. He hoped Emma wouldn't mind a private supper with him instead of another meal taken with half the town. The prying eyes, scrutiny and wariness, lessened somewhat since their adventure into the past, but still there, it wore on him, threatening to fill him with all his old doubts and self-loathing.

Filthy pirate, she'll never love you, one-handed fool chasing after a happy ending you don't deserve, you'll never have.

But he'd done it, he'd won Emma's heart and he'd found happiness again, not an ending, but so much more.

A beginning. Where the path would ultimately lead, he didn't know. But he no longer walked it alone.

Killian picked up one of the packets of chocolate and turned it over in his hand. Emma normally drank chocolate, topped with froth and cinnamon, and he'd bought the cinnamon for her as well, but writing on the paper wrapper caught his eye and he read the words.

"Melt in double-boiler, a saucepan set over another pan over water on low heat. Dip strawberries, marshmallows, or pretzels in the melted chocolate, turning to coat easily, and let harden before eating."

He didn't have any marshmallows or pretzels (whatever those were), but he'd bought strawberries at the market. The instructions seemed simple enough.

Strawberries and chocolate. An intriguing combination.

Killian opened the door at Emma's knock, "Please tell me you're ready to go now because I am starving...wait what is that smell?"

He smiled at her rush of words, taking her by the elbow and guiding her into his chamber.

"The captain wishes to invite you to dine at his table tonight, milady."

Her eyebrows were practically touching her hairline, "Okay. I didn't realize the captain knew how to cook."

"He's a man of many talents," Killian said.

"I'm beginning to realize that."

She shrugged off her jacket and shoes while he finished cooking the fish over the fire, sliding them onto the plates and adding a squeeze of lemon (scurvy, always the fear of scurvy). The potatoes were fished from the coals, he set out the butter and the salt, feeling Emma's eyes on him the whole time.

"Would you do the honours?" he asked, gesturing to the fat candle in the middle of the table.

She waved her hand over it, brows scrunched up adorably. The magic made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and his skin prickle when the candle ignited.

"Boom!" Emma whispered, and he couldn't help his smile.

He held the chair back for her (gentleman), and snuck a glance down her shirt when she sat down (pirate). He thought he caught a glimpse of black lace and he was confused, why would such an expensive fabric as lace be worn as an undergarment? The women he had known who could afford lace trimmed their dresses and hats with it, wore gloves made of the delicate needlework, they didn't hide it away. Were textiles like spices here, silks and velvets as commonplace as linen and homespun? What did the pirates of this realm even bother plundering if such treasures were so freely available?

Musing on it, he retrieved the bottle he'd bought from the merchant who traded in spirits for the town and offered it to Emma.

"Will this be acceptable refreshment?"

"Cristal?" she said, taking the bottle and squinting at the label, "Are we making a music video or having dinner?"

Killian frowned at her, and she shook her head, "It's fine, it's just, isn't this really expensive? Don't you want to save this for a special occasion?"

"I'm dining with you, love. That is special."

Her cheeks went pink and she ducked her head, her hair swinging down over her face. She tucked the strands back behind her ears.

"Cristal it is then. I don't think I've ever had it before."

"A new experience for the both of us then," Killian said, taking the bottle back from her. He peeled back the covering from the cork and used his hook to pop it open.

The champagne spilled over and Emma shrieked, grabbing her napkin and dabbing at his hand. Killian waved her off, pouring out the glasses and then sucking the drops off his fingers. He looked over and saw she was staring at his mouth.

The grin spread across his face of it's own accord, and he pulled his fingers back out with a wet pop.

"Delicious," he said, and winked.

"For what it costs, it better be," she shot back, picking up her glass and holding it out.

He clinked his tumbler against hers, "To calm and steady seas."

"In Storybrooke? I'd say the odds are not good."

"Oh, I've always been a betting man, Swan."

A ship for a bean for a girl, a gamble of the highest stakes. No loaded dice or marked cards to tip things in his favour, just the one thing he'd learned from her.

Hope.