"Am I boring you?"
Robin Locksley pulled his attention back to the lovely brunette sitting across from him. Regina Mills was still the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen despite the annoyed frown on her face.
"You? Never," he said. "Trigonometry, on the other hand …"
"Look, Locksley, I'm not tutoring you in math for my own entertainment, you know," she complained, and his attention wandered across the quad again.
"Robin!"
He tried his most charming smile. "Sorry, Your Majesty, I'm afraid I'm a bit distracted today."
She sighed and dropped her pen on the table. "I'll say. And do not call me that." Though Regina was undoubtedly the queen bee of the school, she hated for anyone to call her on it. In fact, Robin thought he might be the only one who ever dared to tease her about her place at the pinnacle of Storybrooke High School's social pyramid.
Regina sighed again and twisted to follow his eye line. "What on earth is so … Hmmm." They both watched as Robin's best friend Killian was escorted back toward the building by their history teacher, Mr. Gold. "Jones is returning to his fellow losers and burnouts in detention, I see."
"He's not a loser," Robin defended him, even if he was privately starting to wonder. "He's just … lost. Temporarily. He'll get back on track."
"It's senior year. Now is not the time to lose focus," she reminded him, turning back as Killian and Gold disappeared inside. He wondered how often she'd received the same lecture from her mother. Cora Mills, the town's mayor, was almost scary in her determination to have her daughter be the best at everything, and pleasing her mother seemed to be a full-time job for Regina. "He was an honors student, and now he's flushing his entire future down the toilet for some girl."
Robin frowned and scrubbed a hand over his face. "His girlfriend left him for an older guy. An older guy in another country. He has a right to be upset."
"I'm sure you were upset when what's-her-name dumped you, but I didn't see you getting into fights and skipping class over it."
He was a little surprised that she even knew he'd been dating someone, and he filed that information away to obsess about at length later. "Her name is Marian," he said. "And it was a mutual break-up."
Well, mutual in the sense that his girlfriend had accused him of being in love with someone else, and he hadn't even been able to argue the point. He had never wanted to hurt Marian, but he couldn't stop his feelings for Regina no matter how hard he tried.
"Well, either way, your friend should take a lesson," Regina said. She tapped her lips thoughtfully. "What he really needs is to get laid."
Robin froze, not quite believing his ears. Was Regina Mills starting a conversation about sex with him? How many fantasies had he had about her that began in a similar fashion? "Did you …" He cleared his throat, which was suddenly, embarrassingly locked up. "Are you offering?"
"Of course not," she snapped, cheeks suddenly pink. "He's hardly my type. Plus, you know I have a boyfriend."
Oh, he knew. Everyone in town knew that Graham Humbert was the other half of Storybrooke High's biggest power couple. Attractive, smart, funny, star quarterback on the football team. Basically a bloody perfect human specimen. And annoyingly nice to everyone, so you couldn't even hate the bastard for his perfection.
Before he could come up with a smart-ass comment about Mr. Perfect, Regina spoke again. "But I do have someone in mind. If we could figure out a way to make it happen, it would help both of us."
"Please go on. Who is this mystery woman?"
"Emma Swan."
Robin wasn't sure how long he was laughing before he finally realized that Regina was serious.
"Emma Swan? Are you mad?"
Regina shrugged. "She's rude, violent and anti-social and has no respect for rules. Sounds like she's his perfect match. At least, nowadays."
"I …" Robin trailed off and actually considered the idea. Emma Swan was beautiful and apparently quite smart, but she was a loner with a bad attitude. She'd spent the summer after freshman year in juvie, and since nobody knew why, all sorts of crazy theories abounded. Most guys at school were too intimidated by her to even think about asking her out, especially after the incident the previous year when she'd viciously nailed her (soon-to-be-ex) boyfriend Walsh in the junk right in the middle of the lunchroom.
But the thing about Jones was, he did enjoy a challenge. At least, he used to before Milah screwed with his head. Now, it was anyone's guess. But he was obviously drawn to trouble, and Emma Swan certainly was that.
"Maybe if I made it a bet," Robin mused. "Not about sex, he wouldn't go for that. Not gentlemanly and so forth. But I don't really have the cash to make it interesting …"
"Leave that to me," Regina said, startling him. He'd nearly forgotten she was there, and that was saying something, since she was almost always on his mind and had been — girlfriend or not — since junior high. "Will five hundred do?"
"Five hundred? Dollars?" Robin asked incredulously. "Are you serious? Why would you put up that kind of money?"
"My mother has instilled in me the value of charity work," she said, sounding again like the perfect little (fake) debutante that irked him to no end. He wanted to see the real Regina, the fiery, funny one he'd glimpsed when her guard was down.
"No," he said, remembering. "You said it would help us both. What did you mean by that?"
She looked down, toying with her pen and avoiding his eyes. "It's ridiculous, but Graham … Graham has a little infatuation with her." She looked up and glared at him. "He loves me, I know he does, and he'll get over it. But hooking her up with your bff would speed that process along."
Well, now wasn't that interesting. Was Storybrooke High's golden couple in danger of breaking up?
Robin's concern for his best friend momentarily warred with his desire for a newly-single Regina. He entertained a vivid vision of her turning to him for comfort before he snapped himself out of it. Robin you are one selfish bastard.
This idea might be a little crazy, but the Swan girl actually would be a good match for Killian. Best case scenario, Jones gets laid and maybe snaps out of his funk. Worst case scenario, he gets punched in the face for his trouble. Given the number of fights he'd been in in just the first few weeks of school, Robin figured he could handle it.
"Five hundred dollars," he mused. "He'll never be able to turn that down."
"You must be joking," Killian said, taking a long pull on the beer Robin had scrounged up before glaring out over the water. "Emma Swan is a bloody nightmare. I actually prefer not to have my nuts crushed by some girl in a Hulk rage, thank you."
"That's why the bet is five hundred," Locksley said with a shrug. His attempt at acting casual wasn't fooling Killian. "Truth be told, I don't think you can do it. And I could use the money myself when you fail."
Locksley, his best mate and partner in crime since the third grade, was a lying bastard. Killian knew perfectly well what he was up to, trying to dangle a challenge in front of him to make him forget about Milah, to make him fall in line and be a good boy like he used to be before the breakup.
It was all bullshit.
Nice guys finished last. The saying was cliche for a reason, because it was true. Being a nice guy got him nothing but a broken heart, a breakup email full of apologies and frowny emoticons, and the realization that he had been planning a future with a woman who didn't give a damn about him.
He was sure that the Italian she'd run off to Europe with was not a nice guy.
And Killian was damn well done with it himself.
Love was bullshit. But the money, that was a different story. With five hundred dollars, plus the money he'd been saving to replace his old pickup that was on its last legs, he could fly to Europe himself. He could track Milah down, win her back from this Italian prat, and then …
Well, then it depended entirely on his mood. He had fantasies of marrying her, living happily ever after until they both forgot how she'd broken his heart. On the other end of the spectrum were the revenge fantasies. He'd win her back, promise to love her forever, and then leave her the way she'd left him, with only a lousy email to hold onto.
With that money, he wouldn't even have to wait for the school year to be over. He could leave in a few weeks. Screw school, graduation, all of that.
"So, I've got to bang her, then? It's a bit fucked up to bet on sex, mate."
Robin choked on his beer. "Nobody said bang! I mean, good for you if you can, but the bet is, you get her to be your date to the Homecoming dance."
Killian snorted at the thought of Emma Swan going to a school event — any school event, much less a dance.
Swan was a beauty, that's for sure. And he'd never told a soul, but he'd had a bit of a crush on her back when she first moved to Storybrooke freshman year. She'd been different then, happier maybe. Friendlier. She'd smiled at him several times in the English class they'd shared, and it was like the sun had come out. If he hadn't been so damn shy, he probably would have actually asked her out then.
There were a lot of rumors about what happened to her, but she'd spent the summer after freshman year in juvie after being arrested with her older boyfriend. He, like everyone else, had been dying to know what they'd done. He'd even decided to push past his shyness and actually talk to her when school started again, but she'd come back in the fall a totally different person, ignoring any attempt at befriending her.
And then he'd met Milah. She was a senior, two years older than he, but they'd hit it off immediately when he was studying at the diner where she'd worked. She'd been his first real kiss — he wasn't counting the disastrous Seven Minutes in Heaven experience with Tina Green freshman year — his first sex, his first love, first lesson in misplaced trust.
He would win her back, and then he'd decide his next move. Unless he was raiding his college fund, there was no way Robin had hundreds of dollars to waste on a bet, but Killian thought he knew who did have the money. He knew Rob was spending a lot of time lately with the Queen Bee, allegedly being tutored in math. But he'd seen them whispering together several times throughout the day. He'd wondered if Locksley had finally taken the plunge and asked her out, but now it seemed likely that she was fronting the money for this ridiculous bet. What he didn't know was why.
Swan would be tough to convince, but he was suddenly hit with an idea that he hoped would convince her to go with him — as well as exacting sweet, sweet revenge on his meddling friend.
"How about this, then? I win five hundred when I show up with the lovely and dangerous Miss Swan —"
"Not just show up, Kill, you have to stay for the whole thing."
"Fine," he ground out. That might be a tougher sell for Swan, but he'd use every ounce of his charm to convince her. "I dance the night away with Swan for the cash. And you, my friend, will win your money back if you attend the dance with your ultimate fantasy woman, the Queen Bee herself, Regina Mills. Otherwise, you owe me twice as much."
Robin dropped his beer, so startled by the idea. "Killian, you know Regina has a boyfriend."
"Well, 'that's why the bet is five hundred,'" he quoted. "But if you want to forget about it all, I understand. I don't much want to go to the bloody dance myself. Plus, let's face it, you're hopeless with women, mate."
Robin flipped him off, scooping up the wasted beer and tossing the bottle in the trash. "I am not hopeless with women, I'm just taking a break from … you know what, never mind. The bet is on, you bastard. We'll see who gets the impossible date."
Killian grinned, wishing he could be a fly on the wall when Robin discussed this bet with Regina.
Now, he only had to find the right time to convince Emma of this plan.
Luck was either smiling on him, or he was screwed beyond belief, because when Killian walked into after-school detention the next day, there was Emma Swan sitting in the back. Even among the trouble-makers in detention, people were obviously wary of her, because there were empty seats all around her.
She didn't seem to notice or care; unlike every other kid in the classroom, she was actually studying.
He took a deep breath and walked toward her, dropping into the seat right next to her. She didn't acknowledge his presence in any way, her head bowed toward her book, face covered by a fall of blonde curls. He was used to being noticed by girls, especially the last year or two, and it pricked his ego just a tad that she could so easily ignore him.
But he didn't need her to like him; he just needed her to make a deal with him.
He glanced at the front of the room. Fortunately, the teacher in charge today was Mr. Leroy who, as usual, had his headphones on and was probably watching "Orange is the New Black" on Netflix. Mr. Leroy didn't give a damn what they did as long as they left him alone and didn't interrupt his TV time.
"Pssst, Swan," he whispered.
Her eyes flew up, and damn he'd forgotten what a lovely green color they were. Her eyes flicked momentarily to Mr. Leroy, before returning to him. "Are you talking to me?"
He raised an eyebrow. "You're the only Swan here, love."
She sat up further and cocked her head. "Allow me to rephrase. Why the hell are you talking to me?"
She didn't even wait for an answer, immediately turning back to her book.
"I've a proposition for you, love."
"And I have a proposition for you, buddy," she hissed without taking her eyes off her book. "Leave me the hell alone, or I'm going to lose my temper."
"Perhaps proposition wasn't quite the right word," he backpedaled. "How about, a mutually beneficial situation … financially."
Her fists clenched on the desk and she turned to glare at him. "Are you fucking offering to pay me for sex? Because I —"
"Hold on!" he said, looking around the room in alarm. Thankfully, it appeared nobody had heard her. "I never said a word about sex! Damn, lass, you're paranoid. Why would you even think that's what I meant?"
She was still glaring at him. "You wouldn't be the first asshole to think that just because I was in juvie I offered my … services for cash."
He blew out a long breath. He knew some of the guys at school were dicks, but that went above and beyond. Bloody hell, this was going to be even more complicated than he'd thought.
"That's not what I'm talking about, Swan. Look, I wanted to talk to you about a bet my friend challenged me to … about you." When she didn't appear ready to jump out of her seat and punch him, he continued cautiously. "Is there any reason that Regina Mills would want you to hook up with me?"
Emma smiled, just a slight twitch of her mouth, really, but it was enough to let him relax slightly. "Regina bet that you couldn't get in my pants?"
"Erm, not exactly. My mate Robin … Locksley?"
"Yeah, I know who he is. This school isn't that big, Jones."
"All right, he made the bet. For five hundred dollars, which I know he doesn't have."
"You think Regina's the money?" She turned to the front of the classroom, a real smile forming on her face this time. Specifically, real nasty smile. It was, in all honesty, a bit disturbing.
"Hmm. So, what?" She turned back to him. "We have to go make out in the halls or something? Or is this a '16 Candles' situation, and I have to give you my panties?"
He relaxed back into his seat and scanned her from head to toe, giving her his cockiest grin. She looked hot, as usual, in tight jeans and boots with a black tank top showing off her toned, tanned arms as well as her bra straps — also black. He wondered if the aforementioned panties were black, too, before shaking off the thought. Truthfully, the idea of Emma handing over her skivvies was not exactly unappealing, and was one that he would undoubtedly revisit later … in a more private location. "Swan, I will happily accept any undergarments you wish to bestow upon me, but as I've already said, this isn't about sex."
"Then …"
"The bet is that I can get you to go to the Homecoming dance with me."
She laughed.
She actually laughed out loud before clapping a hand over her mouth and nodding an apology at Mr. Leroy. Apparently she hadn't interrupted any good lesbian make-outs on his show, because he let her by with just an annoyed glare.
She still had her hand over her mouth, obviously covering a grin. He would be a little offended, but it was hard to be mad when he had made her laugh like that. In truth, he felt a little twist of pride in his gut that he'd done that.
"Oh, Jones," she said. "You'd have a much better chance of getting me naked than getting me in a fancy dress."
"Now, that's a lovely thought," he said, scooting closer, literally on the edge of his seat. "Come on, Swan, don't let me down. Don't let us down. Surely you can't pass up five hundred dollars?"
"Two-fifty," she corrected him. "We would split it, right?"
"Yeah, but I doubled the bet. Five hundred for us to go together, five hundred if Rob can get Regina to go with him."
She bit her lip, looking like she was trying not to laugh again, and he again felt proud that he had amused her. It was like being a bloody freshman again, wanting Emma Swan to smile at him.
"Regina would easily pay an extra five hundred bucks not to have her perfect night with her perfect date ruined," she mused.
"My thoughts exactly. We wear some uncomfortable clothes for a few hours, dance to some lousy music and collect our winnings at the end of the night," he said. "Of course, if you need some more incentive, I could be convinced to make out with you all night long, too. A little bonus offer, just to sweeten the pot."
She snorted. "Thanks for the offer, but the cash will do just fine."
"A pity," he said, feeling inexplicably happy all of a sudden. Because of the money he was going to win, of course. "But any time you change your mind, let me know."
They still had half an hour left of detention, so he pulled out his books and tried to follow her example and study. It was too hard to focus, though, thinking of how shocked people would be when they showed up to the dance together, how surprised Robin would be. And then his thoughts turned to Emma, and trying to picture her in a dress was distracting as hell. He suddenly realized that he'd not gotten an answer to his question.
"Oi, Swan," he hissed.
"What now?"
"Why would Regina give Robin the money for the bet?"
She sighed, glancing around the room before focusing on him again. "I expect she's trying to get me off the market. She thinks her boyfriend wants in my pants."
"Does he?" It was hard to imagine straight-as-an-arrow Graham Humbert ever cheating on his girlfriend, though he could hardly blame the guy for being attracted to Emma.
She shrugged. "Maybe. He's unnaturally nice to everybody, but I think he has a thing for me. I don't know why somebody that nice would date her. Maybe after we take her money I'll fuck him just to piss her off."
He forced a laugh, though he found that he didn't like that thought one bit.
It didn't occur to him until that night when he went to bed, imagining Emma in her black underwear, that he hadn't thought once about Milah since he'd seen Swan in detention. And he wasn't sure how he felt about that at all.
Sometimes, very, very occasionally, Regina was just a tiny bit jealous of girls like Marian Woods.
Certainly, she was unremarkable — one might even say vanilla. She came from a poor family and didn't have the advantages that Regina had; she didn't get the best grades, so she'd never go to an Ivy League school. She wasn't popular like Regina, and she would never be chosen class president or homecoming queen.
But the the friends that she did have were close, closer than any friends Regina had ever had. She might never go to Yale, but at least she didn't have her mother breathing down her neck with her unreasonable expectations of grades, future plans, even appropriate boys to date.
Marian Woods could date a guy like Robin Locksley, and nobody had a word to say about it. She'd never have to secretly volunteer to tutor him in math just to spend time with him without her mother objecting.
Regina sighed and flipped her trig book open, trying to put Robin out of her mind. She had a boyfriend — an attractive, charming guy from a good family that her mother liked. And she liked him, too, other than his embarrassing crush on Emma Swan. It was just that … her thoughts often turned to Robin instead.
There had always been something about him. She couldn't even remember when they'd first met; he'd always just been there. Sometimes it felt like he was the only person who truly knew her, and she was a little bit amazed that he still liked her anyway. He didn't give a damn if she was popular, what her extracurriculars were or if she'd be voted homecoming queen. He didn't hesitate to tell her if he thought she was full of shit … or if he thought she'd done something remarkable.
She found that his opinion mattered to her, more than she liked.
She jumped slightly when Robin's backpack landed with a thud on the table and the boy himself dropped heavily into the seat opposite her. He made no move to get his book out, and he didn't say a word.
"Bad day?" she asked.
He started to answer, then obviously thought better of it and shook his head instead. With a sigh, he unzipped his bag and pulled out his book.
"Well, I'm just great, Robin. Thanks for asking." When she still only got silence in return, she started to get annoyed. "Are we not speaking now? Because that will make tutoring a little difficult."
"We're not …" He sighed again, shoving his book away. "I've got something to tell you, and you're not going to like it."
"Wow, that will be a totally new experience for me," she deadpanned. "Spill it."
"Killian took the bet … with one condition."
Oh, lord. Of course Killian Jones was going to make things more difficult than they ought to be. "Well? What is it?" she asked impatiently.
"He agreed to it," Robin said slowly. "If I agreed to a bet of my own. Five hundred dollars on whether or not I can get a certain girl to go with me."
Regina tamped down a wave of annoyance. It wasn't her business if Robin took another girl to the dance; she'd be there with her boyfriend, anyway.
"So, who's your dream date?" she asked, as casually as possible.
"Um … it's you," Robin said, his voice unusually hesitant. "He bet that I couldn't get you to go with me."
Her heart jumped, and she willed her breath to stay steady. "Why would he do that?"
Robin's face flushed. "Jones is smart," he said with a short laugh. "He probably figured out what we were up to and decided to get back at me, the bastard. No good deed goes unpunished, and all that. I don't know where I'm going to get that money."
With every fiber of her being, she wanted to tell him that yes, she'd go to homecoming with him. She could imagine seeing him in a suit, imagine spending the whole evening dancing and flirting and laughing with him. Unfortunately, she could also picture the look on her mother's face if she decided to throw over her honor-student-slash-quarterback boyfriend for an average student from a middle class family.
"I'll cover the bet," she said instead, shrugging. "It's worth the money to get Emma Swan out of my way."
"So, did you get your dress?"
Emma rolled her eyes as Jones slid into the seat beside her in the library.
"Like, oh my God, I found the cutest one," she said sarcastically. "Do you want to, like, paint our nails and talk about it?"
"All right, smart-ass," he said, grinning. "I just wanted to make sure you weren't backing out of our date."
"Fake date," she reminded him. And herself.
Killian Jones had always been nice to her, and she'd considered him one of the most decent people at this shit school. But she'd somehow missed that along the way cute little Jones had turned into a full-scale hottie. Rumor had it that his girlfriend at college had broken his heart, and he'd come back for senior year on a tear, getting into trouble at every turn.
Unfortunately, the last thing Emma needed was more trouble. She was trying hard — okay, trying hardish — to get her shit together this year. She'd decided that she was through letting her issues of the past define her, and getting tangled up with a newly minted bad boy was not on her agenda. No matter how attractive he was with his gorgeous blue eyes and wild hair and scruff.
She'd had a slight misstep and let her temper get the better of her (again), landing her in detention already, but that just made her more determined to control herself, graduate from this hellhole and leave Storybrooke in the dust as soon as she could.
No scruffy bad boys allowed.
But collecting five hundred dollars just to waste a couple hours at a stupid school dance? That she could definitely do. She hadn't even had to spend any money on the dress; her foster mom, Astrid, had gotten frighteningly excited about the dance and had bought everything for her.
"I did get a dress," she said. "All the girls are saying pastel is the way to go, so I got a really nice … black one."
"Ah, my favorite color," he said, leaning into her space. "I can't wait to see Robin's face when we waltz in there together, and he has to pay up."
He grinned, biting his lip in a truly distracting way, and she couldn't help but follow the movement with her eyes. Sighing, she inched back and tried to focus on something else. "So, what're you going to do with your winnings?" she asked.
He froze, pulling back entirely and settling into his chair. "I … ah, I haven't really thought about it," he said.
Lie.
She found that she really, really wanted to know what he wanted the money for, but she reminded herself that it was none of her business. It's not like they were actually dating or anything.
"Uh … you?" he asked.
She closed her book and shoved it back into her bag. "It's going in my Get the Hell Out of Storybrooke Fund," she said. "I can't wait to leave this place behind."
He frowned. "It's not that bad here."
"Yeah, I have seen worse. But there's nothing for me here," she told him — told herself — with a shrug, standing up. "See you Friday, Jones."
"I'm going to Europe," he said quickly, and she sat again.
"I … my ex-girlfriend went there, with her new boyfriend." He stared hard at her, big blue eyes more intense than she'd ever seen, almost like he was begging her to understand. "I'm going to get her back."
Wow. So bad boy Jones was a little delusional, and still hung up on his ex. Looks like her decision to not get involved was even wiser than she knew.
"That sounds … completely crazy. I mean, you know it's not going to work out how you think." She watched his face fall and inexplicably felt the urge to make him feel better. "On the other hand, you'll be in Europe. Anything could happen."
He smiled, just a little one, and looked down. "Anything could happen," he repeated.
Killian was nervous.
It was foolish, really, considering that it wasn't even a real date, just a way to make a quick buck.
The thing was, he liked Swan. He really liked her.
He wasn't sure why he'd decided to tell her his plan to win Milah back; he hadn't even told his best friend, but somehow he felt like he could share it with her. And though she'd pointed out that he wasn't likely to be happy with the outcome of his trip, she hadn't made fun of him or looked down on him for it. She'd just accepted that he was going.
Then she'd been nice. He'd been to Europe, of course — he'd been born there, after all — but Emma never had. They'd spoken for nearly an hour about places he'd been and places she wanted to go one day. She'd even given him her cell number and made him promise to text her photos on his trip.
So, naturally, he'd started texting her pictures of random crap around Storybrooke: the clock tower, his favorite spot by the water, the jukebox at Granny's Diner.
Surprisingly, she'd been texting him back.
He discovered that she was wickedly funny and very smart, and contrary to popular opinion she actually did have friends — she'd told him that her next-door neighbor, Mary Margaret Blanchard, had basically worn down her resistance with kindness and baked goods during the summer break. And where Mary Margaret went, David Nolan always followed.
He started meeting them every day at lunch, sending a merry wave to Locksley and his other friends across the lunchroom. He'd sit close to Emma, laughing and flirting, pretending it was all for show. But the truth was, he wasn't so sure. Most of the time, it felt very real, and he thought she might feel the same. There was no doubt that he'd had his best week since he'd gotten Milah's email. He'd even been thinking that maybe he should postpone his trip, at least until after graduation.
He'd also been thinking that he'd been too hard on Robin. He'd only initiated the bet out of concern for Killian, and turning it around on him was great revenge. But making the bet about a girl Locksley'd been in love with for years was kind of a dick move, and he was tempted to call the whole thing off.
But every time he considered doing so, he thought about Emma. And Emma in her black dress. Emma with her arms around his neck in a slow dance. …
And so here he was, waiting downstairs at her house with her chattering foster mother, feeling damned nervous about the whole thing.
"You didn't have to pick me up," Emma said behind him.
He spun, the quip dying on his lips as he took in the sight of her. Her hair was loose and curled over her shoulders — her bare shoulders, shown off by the strapless black dress that hugged her curves. She walked slowly up to him, her heels making them almost eye-to-eye.
He cleared his throat. "I told you, if we're going to do this, we should do it right, yeah?"
She looked him over, eyes skimming from head to toe, and he suddenly felt like his tie was strangling him. She smiled and tugged on said tie. "Looking good, Jones," she said in a low voice. "A real dream date."
He grinned, stepping into her space. "And the night's still young, Swan."
She rolled her eyes, shooting a small smile at her foster mom, who was pretending not to listen to their conversation. "We're going to a dance with a 'Frozen' theme — even though it's 80 degrees outside — with a bunch of people I don't like, while wearing uncomfortable clothes and shoes that are already killing my feet. What could be better?"
"Well, you're already ahead of the game, love," he said. "The secret to a successful dance is picking a partner who knows what he's doing."
Robin stood in the shadows, watching his classmates dancing and laughing, flirting and attempting to make out without being busted by the chaperones. He tugged his tie off, willing Jones to finally show up so he could be done with this whole bet debacle … and, if he was lucky, get a hit or two from the flask he was sure Killian had on him.
He'd had a golden opportunity to finally man up and tell Regina how he felt, and instead, he'd been too scared to say a word. The truth was, he was afraid to lose the friendship that they had. It wasn't enough, it wasn't what he wanted (it wasn't all that he wanted), but it was better than nothing, right? Better than having her look at him in disgust, or worse, pity.
And why shouldn't she? He was a pathetic, miserable excuse for a man.
At the very thought, he spotted Regina and Graham making their grand entrance. Regina looked every inch the homecoming queen in a low-cut red dress, her hair pinned up and off her face. And, naturally, Humbert was her perfect escort in a dark suit and red vest.
Suddenly, he'd had it.
Lord knows, he wasn't perfect, but he was never a coward. He thought of Killian's older brother Liam, and what he'd told them when they were younger, "A man who doesn't fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets."
Wishing again for a little Irish courage, he shook it off and marched up to the happy couple, squeezing past a couple of starstruck girls fawning over them.
"Regina, I need to speak with you."
She frowned at him. "It's not a good time, Robin. Graham and I were just —"
"It's fine, Regina," Humbert said, scanning the crowd. "I need to talk to Philip, anyway." He shot them both a smile and walked off.
Regina glared at his back as he walked away, then turned the glare on Robin. "What on earth is so important?"
He swallowed hard, motioning for her to follow him and crossing the gym. He shoved open the gym doors, walking into the hallway and turning to face her. The hallway was dim, only a few lights on to allow people to find the restrooms, and it was strangely quiet except for the echoes of music from the gym.
Regina crossed her arms over her chest, doing very distracting things to her cleavage, and he had to force himself to move his eyes back to her face.
"I …" He took a deep breath and let it out, barreling through this before he could talk himself out of it. "I haven't been honest with you, Regina. Jones made the bet about us because he knew the truth. I've been in love with you, basically forever. I know I'm not from the best family or the … star quarterback or anything. But the thing is, I know you. I know you. Not the Queen Bee everybody else sees, but the real you. And I think I could make you happy. But even if you don't want to be with me, I'm tired of hiding how I feel."
He finally managed to stem the flow of words, stomach in knots as he watched a flush move its way across her shocked face.
Why didn't she say something?
It felt like a thousand years of quiet, and he considered the possibility that he was the biggest idiot on the face of the planet. He should have kept his mouth shut, now she would hate him, she would refuse to even tutor him. He'd never get the chance to talk to her again, to witness the beauty of her genuine smiles or the surprising sound of her laughter.
He opened his mouth to say … something. To apologize and take it back, lie and say he was drunk … or to start listing the things he loved about her. He wasn't sure what.
But it didn't really matter, because before he could say anything, she kissed him.
He froze for a moment, his brain having a hard time processing that Regina Mills' mouth was on his mouth, her tongue was sweeping along the seam of his lips. Regina Mills wanted to put her tongue in his mouth, and he was fine. Totally and completely fine. If by fine you mean unable to form a single coherent thought. Fortunately for him, his body reacted automatically, stepping closer and sliding his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck, pulling her into a deeper kiss.
When she pulled away, he tried to follow, frowning when she placed a finger against his lips.
"You … love me? Really?" she said, sounding so unsure that it broke his heart a little bit. He grabbed the hand still hovering over his mouth and pressed a gentle kiss to her palm.
"I'm crazy about you, Regina," he told her honestly.
"I'm … crazy about you, too," she said. "My mother, though …"
"She'll hate me," he said.
She stared hard at him, and he could almost hear her thinking. How could he expect her to go against nearly 18 years of following her mother's wishes? He braced himself for the rejection he knew was coming.
"Fuck her," Regina said finally, and he felt like his eyebrows were raising almost off his head. "It's time that I get what I want, for a change."
She sent him a wicked smile that literally made his heart feel like it skipped a beat. "Locksley, have you ever been in the janitor's closet?"
"Erm, I can't say that I have."
She reached for his hand, tugging him in that direction. "Come on," she said, grinning. "I want to show you something."
He was dreaming. It was the only possible explanation. At home in bed, fast asleep.
Please, God, let me never wake up.
The trouble, Killian reflected, was that it felt like a real date.
They had joked and flirted all the way to the school, and as soon as they'd arrived they snuck into a dark corner of the gym … not, sadly, to make out but so that they could sneak sips of rum from his flask. They spent a few minutes talking to David and Mary Margaret, who were nice but almost nauseatingly in love, and then hit the dance floor, spinning around to some obnoxiously peppy pop song.
And the thing neither one of them mentioned was that the two people they were putting on a show for were nowhere to be found. He didn't know if Rob had shown up at all, but they'd seen Graham at a table laughing with his football buddies, so presumably the Queen was here somewhere, too.
Killian leaned on a wall, waiting while Emma excused herself to go to the ladies room. He nodded to Mr. Leroy, who looked extra pissed off to be stuck chaperoning this dance, and fantasized about slow dancing with Swan.
He was startled out of his daydream when the girl herself leaned on the wall next to him, looking a little … out of sorts.
"Swan, what's wrong?"
"Good news, bad news," she said. "Good news, you made $500 just by getting me to come here with you. Bad news, you also lost $500."
"What the hell?" He nodded at Graham. "Golden boy there came with Regina, and I haven't even seen Robin."
She nudged him and nodded toward the double-doors, where Regina and Robin had just entered … holding hands.
"They may not have come to the dance together," Swan said. "But I'm about 99 percent sure they came at the dance together, if you know what I mean. They were stumbling out of the janitor's closet when I came out of the bathroom, and they looked more than a little … rumpled. Who would've thought perfect Miss Mills would be that freaky?"
"Bloody hell," he muttered. Not that he wasn't happy for his friend, but he'd been counting on that money.
"I guess you might have to postpone your trip," Swan said casually, eyes on the dancers and not on him. "I'm sorry."
"It's all right," he said. "I … to be honest, I'd been rethinking that whole idea anyway. I mean, Europe is great, certainly, but Storybrooke has its attractions."
He was sure he saw a smile flit across her face before she shrugged. "Like the jukebox at Granny's?"
"Something like that," he said, inching closer. "Of course, if I'm going to be stuck here, you'll have an obligation to keep me company. Obviously, my best mate is going to be occupied."
"I have an obligation?" She turned toward him with a incredulous laugh. "Really? You're the one who promised me 500 bucks for showing up to this stupid dance! How exactly are you planning to pay me back?"
"Well, you'll have to let me work it off, I guess." He gave her his most charming grin, only smiling bigger when she rolled her eyes.
She looked him over, slowly panning up and down his body, making him swallow hard. "And what exactly can you do for me, Jones?"
"Hey," he said, faking outrage. "Are you offering to pay me for sex —"
"Idiot," she hissed, hitting him in the chest.
"— because I'm completely fine with that. It might take a very long time for me to work off that kind of debt, though. I mean, hours and hours and —"
"Stop that," she said, laughing. "Forget about the money; I was just yanking your chain."
"I —" He cleared his throat, suddenly nervous. "I can do a lot for you. I could give you a ride to school. Carry your books. Buy you lunch. Give you a shoulder massage when you're stressed out. Beat up anyone who talks bad about you."
"Killian." She stepped closer, leaned in and brushed her lips over his. "How about a dance?"
He nodded, leading her to the dance floor for a slow song, smiling as she wound her arms around his neck and pressed all the way against him. It was even better than he'd imagined.
"No fighting," she said. "I'm trying to stay out of trouble this year, and I can't date someone who's in detention all the time."
"Date?" He tightened his arms around her waist. "You sure, love? Rumor has it Graham Humbert might be on the market."
"Eh," she said. "He's handsome, smart, athletic. Practically perfect. Not really my type at all."
"Oi, Swan," he objected. "You sure know to wound a man."
"Awww, is your … ego in need of stroking?" she asked. "Maybe later. After all, if we don't stay for this whole thing, you lose all the money."
"There's always the janitor's closet," he suggested, manfully suppressing his wince when she pinched him.
"Jones."
Killian nodded as Robin dropped down next to him on the bench. "Locksley."
"I believe I owe you some money."
"And I owe you." Killian checked to make sure nobody else was around before he pulled a beer out of his bag and handed it over.
"But … I didn't go to the dance with Regina," Robin said.
"You sure as hell left with her, didn't you? And I heard something about janitor's closet shenanigans, mate?"
Robin flushed. "I figured Emma must have told you. But the terms of the bet …"
"Ah, forget the bloody bet. I'd say we both came out ahead."
"So, you and Emma …?"
"Well, we didn't have a dalliance in a janitor's closet," Killian said. He smiled, thinking of the short but intense makeout they'd had in his truck before he dropped her off. "But I think we're dating. And, more importantly, you achieved your intended purpose."
"Yeah?"
"I know you were just trying to find a way to get my attention," he said. "But thanks to you, I may have found the perfect woman."
"And I owe you for giving me the kick in the ass I needed to finally be honest with Regina."
"So …" Killian leaned back on the bench. "You know our girls hate each other, right? What are the chances we could ever get them on a double-date?"
Robin shrugged. "I bet Regina would do it if I asked."
"Well I bet I could get Emma to agree to it first."
"Shall we make it interesting?" Robin asked.
Killian smirked.
Note:If you kinda feel bad for poor Graham, who lost his girlfriend and saw Killian sweep in and ruin his chances with Emma … don't. A couple months after this he meets Mary Margaret's cousin Ruby, and it's love at first sight, the end. :)