For an AU prompt on Tumblr: roommates/fake relationship AU. For Caitlin.

…

Fake It 'til You Make It

…

"Shit!" she says as she rushes in through the door, arms laden with paper carry bags full of groceries that she would never otherwise buy, "Shit, shit, shit."

Killian turns around from watching the football and narrows his eyes at his roommate. They haven't been living together for that long, but this is definitely the first time he's heard her curse and he really can't help but be somewhat curious as to what is going on.

"Something wrong?"

Emma looks up from her frantic unpacking of vegetables, her eyes widening when she notices her roommate is also in the house and that he might have been trying to watch some kind of sport in peace. "Oh god! I was hoping I'd have some time to prepare."

Her face is scrunched in a look of pure terror and he wishes he could turn off the voice in his head that says she looks rather cute when she'sflustered. "Prepare for what?" He takes in the huge array of food adorning their usually tidy bench top, "The apocalypse?" Her shoulders relax somewhat at his teasing and she lets a smile spread across her face for a moment. He laughs gently along with her, shaking his head, "Seriously, what is going on?"

She closes her eyes for a second, breathing deep, "I may have signed us up for something."

He narrows his eyes, "Like a housemate gym membership or something?"

"Worse," she says, biting her lip.

"Emma…what'd you do?"

She picks up a pumpkin and hides behind it as she mutters, "I may have told my parents that we're dating." He's sort of silent for a moment and Emma decides that before he starts yelling, she should probably tell him the whole story, "And they're coming to dinner this weekend," she finishes in a rush, turning away from Killian and opening the fridge to put the rest of the food away.

It's not as loud as she thought it was going to be, but he's definitely got a tremble in his voice, "But today's the weekend."

She nods and holds up a few fingers, "They'll be here in three hours."

She looks so scared and apologetic that Killian can't help but feel like he needs to help out. They haven't been living together all that long, but he remembers her telling him about how her parents were extremely traditional and believed in true love. Emma had rolled her eyes as she had explained it all, but he can see now that her parents' influence must be very hard to escape.

"They got so excited when I told then I was living with a guy. They didn't even consider that you were anything but my boyfriend. And then I panicked and here we are." She shrugs her shoulders like it's nothing, but he can still see that it's eating at her. He swears he knows her better than she knows herself sometimes.

He makes a big show of sighing and rolling his eyes, but then moves into the kitchen to help her unpack, "Well I suppose I'd better start cooking then, because we all know what a disaster you are in the kitchen."

…

He's never seen her like this, all pink lips and loose curls framing her face. She looks absolutely stunning – in a completely roommate friendly way, of course – but there is such a nervous energy about her that he can see every thought written on her face.

He bumps his shoulder against hers as they start piling the meat and vegetables onto serving dishes, "It's going to be okay, you know?"

She blinks a few times, coming out of her reverie, "I do. I know. I just wish this wasn't a lie." She pauses for a second, "I mean, I wish that I didn't have to lie to my parents, I didn't mean…"

He chuckles at how flustered she is over this, "I know. Who wouldn't want me, I'm such a catch."

She knows he's teasing, but she can't help but agree with him, "You are. Milah was an idiot for letting a man who can cook go."

It's funny, the reason he'd moved in here in the first place was because he had to move out of his ex-girlfriend's apartment. And he was distraught at first, spending drunken nights on the couch spilling his darkest fears and secrets to Emma who was basically a stranger at the time. But he hasn't thought of Milah in weeks now, his drunken nights on the couch now spent with an equally drunk Emma and a few of each of their friends before going out on the town.

They've made a little family here. Nothing complicated or overbearing, but enough that they all know they've got each other's backs. Especially Emma and Killian. And especially now.

The knock at the door has Emma in a panic again and Killian actually reaches out to hold her hand. She looks up at him and throws one last apologetic smile his way before schooling her features into something that resembles a lovesick teen's expression when the popular boy asks her to prom.

He squeezes her hand in his and then follows her to the door.

…

They make it through dinner without much fuss. Emma's father, David, seems to actually like Killian and has even organised a day to go out on the younger man's fishing boat. And while the boys had been sorting that out, Emma and her mother, Mary Margaret, had been discussing nearly everything else.

"Well Killian certainly seems like quite the catch," she starts off easily, "It's a shame this is the first time we're hearing about him." And there it is. Emma had known it would have to come, had been expecting the typical 'mom lecture'. But, to her utmost surprise, the lecture never comes.

"I'm so glad you met him though, it's been a long time since your father and I have seen you so open and happy."

She looks down the table at her dad and Killian talking about the biggest fish they'd ever caught and she feels something she hasn't in a long time. A stirring of butterflies that certainly hadn't been there before. Telling herself that it's just because she's fake dating him for the night, she tamps down those particular emotions for now and commits to her character, "It's been a long time since I had the reason."

Killian looks up at her then and she finds herself not caring that he's currently putting on a character. Her eye catches his and he winks with that grin she's come to associate with 'going home' and oh shit…

That's definitely not a thought she's meant to have. Before she can dwell on it too long though, her mother is starting to gather up plates from the table and Emma's telling her to sit and relax, "You and dad have a long drive ahead of you; we can do these."

It's all going a lot smoother than what she thought it would, which really should have been the dead giveaway that it was all going to come crashing down around them.

"Oh, your father and I were thinking we'd stay here for the night and drive home tomorrow. I thought…but it's okay if not…I just assumed…"

It takes a moment for Emma to hone in on the words she's just been given and deal with them in a way that doesn't leave her gaping like a fish. Her parents want to stay here. They want to stay here. Here, where she and Killian live. In a relationship, according to them. Right. They can do this.

Right?

"Of course!" She eventually squeaks out, her voice raised about three octaves from its usual pitch, "But still, you and dad should sit. Killian and I will do the dishes." She says the last part quite pointedly, picking up the plates with a lot more gusto than necessary and turning on her heel towards the kitchen, knowing that her roommate would have got the message loud and clear.

She's filling up the sink with water when Killian comes into the kitchen behind her, his voice low and urgent, "It's just one night, right? We can sleep in the same room for a night."

Her head remains downturned, focussed on the water going into the sink and the way it mixes with the detergent, forming bubbles. Killian's calmness in all of this is too much for her because she's used to guys freaking out and leaving her. She repels people, that's what she's good at and the reason she was living alone until Killian came into her life.

And oh what a life he's made it.

He's her compass when she feels like she's flailing and lost and it's only now that she's starting to see that that could mean more than she had let herself believe in the past. And yes she's afraid her parents are about to come in the middle of what they've got. And yes her first thought had been that Killian would want out of this whole ordeal when her mom mentioned staying the night.

But instead he's all for it. He's willing to stick it out with her and help her pull off this lie that she is wishing more and more wasn't a lie. And yes, she might mean that in the way it sounds. She might mean that she wants this relationship to be real.

She turns around to face him, wet hands gripping the edge of the counter behind her, "Killian, it's okay if you don't want to keep going with this. We can just tell them and pull out the sofa bed and…"

His hand is on her cheek, warm and strong and bringing him so, so close to her. She takes a moment to catch her breath, eyes flicking up to meet his as his thumb caresses her cheek softly, "Emma. It's okay. We'll take my bed – it's bigger."

He is ridiculously close and she's wondering if his eyes have always been this blue as his breath puffs out in rapid beats against her lips. Her eyes slide shut and she feels a warmth on her back. It's not until she hears the sound of water hitting tiles that she realises the warmth is the water from the sink and not Killian's arm snaking around her hips.

"Oh my god!" she yells, jumping away from the bench and spinning the taps until they're off. The bubbles have built up in a mountain behind her, the water overflowing onto the floor as it sloshes around the sink and all she can do is laugh.

David and Mary Margaret had run to the kitchen at the moment they'd heard their daughter yell out to find Emma hunched over trying to heave in air as she laughs and Killian trying to mop up the mess on the floor. David walks over to the sink, reaching into the mess and pulling the plug out before casting a look at the man currently throwing paper towel down on the floor, "I suppose by now you know that Emma and the kitchen don't mix."

Killian looks up with smiles in his eyes, "Oh, I've gathered."

Mary Margaret kneels down to help clean up, "When she was younger she used to think this was just how you washed up."

David chuckles, "Remember that time she emptied the whole bottle of detergent at once?"

"Hey, I'm right here!" Emma finally says, straightening up and taking in the mess she's made. Her eyes meet Killian's and he smiles up at her, a secret little smile that makes her wish her parents were out of this room.

"Bubbles everywhere," Mary Margaret continues.

But Emma's gaze doesn't leave Killian's and she's thinking that maybe it's not so bad for him to know her better, to know all of her embarrassing stories.

…

"What'd you tell them?" he asks as he rummages through his wardrobe, looking for a pair of sweat pants for her to wear.

"That we used to be just roommates and we haven't completely moved into the one room yet. Good thing your guitar was in my room or they may not have bought it." She catches the clothes he throws at her and then takes a look around the room, remembering suddenly that she has the ensuite in her room.

She can still hear her parents padding around the apartment, trying to get comfortable for the night and she knows how strange it'll look if she goes into the bathroom to get changed when she's supposed to be in a wholehearted, committed relationship with the man she's sharing a room with.

"Turn around," she settles on, knowing he's a gentleman at heart and wouldn't look.

He raises his hands to his eyes for theatrical effect and spins on his heel, "You are staying in my room, remember?"

She peels off her still damp dress and lets it fall to the ground with a wet swish, "So?"

Every very male part of him aims to be the gentleman, but in the corner of his eye he can see her distorted form in a reflection off a lamp fixture and he has to take a deep breath when she removes her bra. Her back is to him, but he has a very good imagination and he has to internally scold himself for letting his mind go there.

"So you should really be following my rules."

He can hear the smile in her voice, "Oh you have rules, do you?"

"Mmhmm. For starters, I get the right hand side of the bed and I get the blue pillow."

Emma pulls Killian's t-shirt over her head and looks to the bed to see what appears to be the fluffiest pillow she's ever seen. "I feel like we should battle for the pillow."

"Uh uh," he tuts, seeing out of the corner of his eye that she is fully clothed and turning around, "My rules."

She crosses her arms, "Fine. Anything else I should watch out for, Captain?"

He smiles at the title, "Respect the room, Swan." He eyes the dress on the ground, knowing full well that it'll stay there forever if he doesn't say something about it now. There's a jacket of hers on the couch that's been there for weeks now and socks in the bathroom that have made a permanent home there.

She makes a show of picking up the dress and hanging it on a coat hanger on the back of the door. At least that way it'll dry and not make the room smell sour.

When he doesn't issue any more orders, she thinks it might be safe to finally crawl into bed. She takes the left, as he'd requested, and pulls down the blankets on the king size bed, "Are you sure this is okay?"

"Positive."

It's only when they're both tucked in and the lights are out that they both seem to realise they can't hide from each other, even when the bed is huge.

She's hyper aware of every breath she takes, trying not to piss Killian off with loud breathing or something. She's asked him this huge favour and, now, lying here, she feels like she's taking too much from him. So she tries not to move a muscle, lying as still as possible.

But the tension must be rolling off her in waves because the next thing she knows, a familiar hand has slid across the cold sheets between them and laced his fingers with hers, "Relax."

She feels the tension immediately leave her with an exhale and she rolls on her side, bringing their joined hands up between them, "I want to thank you, for doing all this in the first place and then for continuing it when it became a teen movie plot."

He laughs at that, bringing her hand to his mouth and pressing his lips against the back of it, "My pleasure."

It's not like she can hide the shiver that runs through her when they're so close, but she's finding that she doesn't even want to try and when she feels him shuffle closer to her she doesn't shy away.

His lips are softer than what she'd imagined – and yes, she had imagined – pressing lightly against hers as though afraid she might disappear. Their fingers untangle and move to each other's heads, pulling the other closer and deepening the kiss. His other hand is suddenly on her hip and she rolls into it, relishing in the way his sweat pants are too big for her and how his fingers have the ease of slipping past the waistband and onto her bare skin.

He grips her hip firmly and rolls backwards, bring her on top of him, never breaking contact. She straddles his hips and rocks down, feeling the effect she's having on him through their loose clothing. Bracing herself on her arms, she pulls back, eyes adjusting to the dark and seeing the pure arousal in his gaze, "What are we doing?"

His lips find her neck in the dark and he mumbles against her skin, "I don't know."

The honesty in his voice gives her enough pause to gather her thoughts into something resembling coherent, "I don't know either."

She rolls off him as his head drops back to his pillow, the both of them trying to find their answers in the ceiling. Emma's sure she's messed this up again. She's the one who makes guys run, she's always been sure of that. And tonight, she'd asked too much of Killian Jones – she is positive of that.

That is, until he surprises her yet again, "Can we go on a date? I wanna see what this is."

Her head has never turned so quickly, "What?"

He rolls on his side, sounding more enthusiastic every second he speaks, "A date. Dinner and drinks and maybe a movie. And then back here to sleep in separate rooms until one night we just don't anymore. I want to take you on a date and then kiss you at your door. Can we do that?"

She almost has to laugh at his excitement, but truth be told, she wants that too. She wants it all, from dinner to a goodnight kiss.

"Yes," she says, because there really is no other answer.

"Okay then," he whispers, leaning in to kiss the tip of her nose, "Okay."

Her heart is still pounding wildly in her chest when he pulls her closer again, wrapping an arm around her waist and resting his chin in the crook of her neck. She wants to kiss him more, but knows the anticipation is only going to make it better in the end.

She snuggles deeper into his embrace, finally feeling herself drifting off to sleep, her breathing matching up to his and pulling her into comfort.

She falls asleep with a smile on her face, feeling the softness of his big blue pillow under her head and knowing that he would bend all his rules for her.

…

The morning is awkward in that it's completely different from the evening before and they all know it. There's this energy in the air that hadn't been there at dinner, this conclusive evidence that yes, Emma and Killian are a thing now.

Mary Margaret and David take them out for breakfast in the city, finding a tucked-away little café that serves as much bacon with one's eggs as anyone could eat. Emma smiles shyly when Killian lifts her hand to his lips and casually kisses it before letting it drop as they sit down. She has this urge to hide it from her parents before she remembers that, as far as they're concerned, she and her roommate are already a very committed couple.

It's nice, she thinks as they swap stories and eat more food than they can possibly need, to not have to lie any more. Having Killian around just seems natural and she's glad it can stay that way.

Her parents decide to leave from the city to get a jump on the Sunday traffic that will surely be filtering out later in the day. After making sure the pair will be alright to catch the subway back to their apartment, they say goodbye to Emma and Killian and begin to walk back to their car.

David reaches out to take Mary Margaret's hand, leaning in close to her as soon as they're out of earshot, "You know she was just pretending to make us happy, right?"

Mary Margaret takes a look over her shoulder at her daughter and her boyfriend sharing a kiss across the little table they had just come from, "You know she's not pretending anymore, right?"

…

Thoughts?