From: Mary Margaret Blanchard

To: Emma Swan

Subject: Small town survival guide

Rule #1: Get involved.

Emma Swan hated the idea, but she knew Mary Margaret was right. Frankly, at this point she'd take any advice on how to adapt to small town life, even if said advice came in a two page email filled with rules, tips, best practices, and a picture of a hand drawn diagram.

So, as the newest resident of Storybrooke, Maine, she put on her big girl pants and dared to go where she had never gone before - she signed up for the school PTA. Granted, it might seem like too little, too late, with Henry almost being out of middle school. He'd be in high school in two years, begging his mother not to get involved, but for now, Emma was going to take a deep breath and do it.

How hard could it be after all?

It was hard. With the crazy hours she put in at the sheriff office, she missed half of the meetings. She was lucky that Henry's teacher - a cheery redhead who insisted on being called by her first name, Ariel - had taken a shine to her and kept her in the loop via text messages and emails.

By the time their first event was hosted, a murder mystery dinner should couldn't believe she was attending, Emma had only met two other parents, Ariel, and pretty much no one else. She didn't let that get under her skin as she made her way towards the line at the buffet. The food looked quite good and it smelled even better. Emma closed her eyes as she let the smell of roasted beef invade her nostrils. There was something to how small town dinners still managed to keep the magic alive when it came to food. A smile on her face, she opened her eyes, reached for a plate from the nearby stack and made her way to the end of the line, anticipating the moment she'd make it to the front of the buffet table.

Trying to peek around the line for another glance at her options, she was stopped short by the sight of the man waiting in front of her. His head was slightly tilted to the side, leaving the perfect line of his jaw, with its smattering of dark scuff, on display. He was absolutely the most gorgeous man Emma had seen in a long time.

Scratch that. In her entire life.

Emma's gaze travelled up and down, taking time to admire the stranger. He was tall and lean, broad shoulders framed in a black leather jacket, faded jeans enhancing his lower assets. The entire package was simply delightful.

Feeling guilty at potentially lusting over a married man - considering where she was, there was a 95% chance that he was a parent as well - Emma glanced down to check for a ring and instead found his left hand covered by a black glove. The line moved and the stranger stepped forward, bringing Emma's attention from his hand to his graceful movements. Emma groaned internally. Between packing up her life in Boston and moving to Storybrooke, it'd been months since she managed to get out. And once here, she'd realized that while Mary Margaret's list was long, there were some valid points (Rule #15: do not have one night stands with locals. If needed, drive one or two towns over to get laid. Or, you know, try dating for a change). She hadn't had the time to drive to a nearby town and she definitely was not interested in dating, so Emma had been left to her own devices to keep herself entertained. Tilting her head to the side, she decided to gather as many details about the stranger as she could in case she needed a new fantasy in the coming weeks. There was nothing wrong in looking, right?

Taking one step forward, she imagined those strong arms circling her body, those hands holding onto her hips as that scruff itched deliciously while rubbing her inner thighs.

The sudden crash in front of her shook her out of her fantasy and she looked down to find the hot stranger collapsed on the floor.

Oh. Oh shit!

Emma couldn't believe it. Here it was the first time in ages she lusted over someone, and he had to go and collapse right in front of her. Her instincts kicked in and Emma quickly bent down to his side. Damn, he smelled pretty good and was even more beautiful up close. She couldn't see the color of his eyes, but his thick eyelashes were beautiful.

FOCUS, EMMA!

She could detect a faint pulse at his wrist, though it was a miracle she could feel anything between her shaking hands and her own heartbeat going miles per hour. She couldn't be sure if the guy was breathing or not, and the commotion around her made it very hard to concentrate. In a split second, she made a decision. Straddling him, Emma pulled her hair back in a ponytail and got ready to administer mouth-to-mouth. She'd keep him breathing until the paramedics got here.

"Someone call 911!" she instructed as she leaned over, trying to focus on doing this properly instead of commiserating about how this was not how she had envisioned straddling this man less than five minutes ago.

Her hand tilted the man's chin and her lips had just made contact with his - soft and warm, damn her - when someone behind her yelled nervously.

"MURDER! There has been a murder!"

Fuck. Emma froze, her mind quickly catching up with her. She was at a damned murder mystery dinner! Of course someone was going to drop dead out of nowhere. This is how these things went, and had she managed to show up to any of the recent meetings, she would have known who the 'victim' was.

All of these thoughts ran through her head as she realized that she still had her lips on this man's face. And how she could feel not just his soft breathing, but the hint of a smile quirking his lips.

Fuck. Fuck!

Pulling herself together, she quickly stood, ran a hand through her hair and mustered her most official voice. "I- yes, this man is dead. He has definitely been murdered!"

A ruckus broke next to her as the rest of the teachers fell into their roles and the 'investigation' began. Emma stepped to the side, eager to find a way to run away from the scene unfolding in front of her. The rest of the party had moved to another room in search of clues and with the place almost empty, the stranger stood up. He turned, his eyes - blue, they were blue - finding hers, and he gave her a soft smile before he took off towards the stairs. Emma could only stare at his retreating form.

"So... you've meet Killian."

Emma turned around and found Ariel watching her, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. "Who?"

Ariel took her arm and laced it with her own as she directed Emma to the next room. "Killian Jones, British expat, 7th grade English teacher, and head of the drama club." She sighed in patently false commiseration. "Too bad you couldn't make it to the PTA meetings. He was the one running them all. Maybe you can try harder next time." She cocked an eyebrow at Emma. "And oh, yes, he is single."

/-/

It was a long evening, with Emma blushing every time she caught a glimpse of Killian Jones directing the action from the shadows, his eyes meeting hers from time to time with a hint of a bashful smile coming to his lips.

Once the mystery was finally solved, Emma couldn't run to the exit quickly enough. Mary Margaret was so wrong. Getting involved had been a terrible idea.

"Hey, wait!" the voice calling for her had a hint of desperation in it.

Emma cursed and turned around to find Killian jogging towards her. He smiled when he reached her, his eyes scanning her face. "You're Emma Swan. It's nice to finally put a face to the name."

Emma lifted her hands in apology. "Look, I'm sorry I couldn't make it to the meetings. My schedule at the sheriff station is crazy, and I'm definitely sorry that I almost ruined all this -"

"Wow, stop." He chuckled and shook his head. "Please, you don't have to apologize for tonight. It's more than fine. No harm done. In fact, it made for a great moment."

"You mean when I jumped you and started mouth-to-mouth?" Emma blurted out and took a step back. She couldn't recognize herself in the nervous jittery mess she was right now.

He shrugged. "I think it gave the story a nice twist. Your reaction made it much more… realistic. Besides…" He paused and smiled. "You don't see me complaining, do you? It's not every day a beautiful woman straddles you and goes the extra mile to ensure you live…" His smiled morphed into one that carried more than a hint of something that was definitely not proper for a public audience, and Emma couldn't help herself as she smiled back in the same way. He was single after all, so what was the harm in a little innocent flirting?

He seemed to read her thoughts and he held his hand out to her. "I'm Killian Jones."

"Emma Swan, but you already know that."

She took his hand but instead of shaking it, Killian brought it to his mouth and placed a soft kiss on her knuckles, his eyes never leaving hers. "It's very nice to formally meet you, Emma." He released her hand and shifted in place. Clearing his throat, he pulled his phone out. "Listen, if your schedule is crazy at the station and you cannot make the meetings, I'd be more than happy to debrief you over coffee at a time that might be more convenient for you."

The tips of his ears had gone pink and he had an adorable blush on his cheeks. Emma smiled again - she was starting to lose count of how many smiles he'd pulled out of her this evening. She reached for his phone and added her number. "That might work." His fingers touched hers as he retrieved his phone and it sent shivers down her spine. "I have to go now, have a nice evening, Killian."

"You too."

She hadn't even made it to her car when her phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number.

I think we need to debrief about the outcome of the murder mystery dinner. Fancy meeting me for a coffee tomorrow?

Emme quickly typed in her reply. Looking forward to it.

Rule #1 for small town survival: Get involved (with the school's English teacher.)