It's kinda surreal, how people react to that crazy little fic of mine. Thank you all for the follows, favs, and reviews, I so didn't expect that to happen when I wrote the first part for the CS AU month thinking "oh why the hell not". I hope this new chapter will be as enjoyed as the first one.
The blonde tornado strikes after first period.
Which, really, Killian should have expected, what with the girl's reputation and all. Still, he almost jumps out of his skin when she appears at his side all of a sudden, grabbing his arm with both of hers and throwing a gleeful laugh his way.
"So you've heard," he deadpans, forcing his arm up so he can open his locker and grab a few books before his English class in five minutes.
"Of course. Everybody has!"
Something between a groan and a sigh escape his lips as he lets the book fall into his bag before turning to the little blonde. She's exulting, of course, in that I'm-totally-the-modern-version-of-Emma-Woodhouse way, with bonus grin from ear to ear and bouncing on her feet. She's probably already planning a hundred different plans of actions for him to get the girl, and Killian doesn't want to hear a single one of those plans – he's seen how messy things got when Regina started dating that guy who already had a girlfriend because Tink had convinced her to.
Thank you, but no thank you.
Not that his opinion matters much when Tink is involved, he learnt his lesson years ago. She holds on to his arm, tugging and tugging until he gives her his full attention – and she will get him late to his next class, the little minx.
"Where are you bringing her on your date? Do you know how you're going to propose? Have you named your children yet? I know you haaaave."
This is beyond ridiculous at this point, her singsong voice a little too loud to his liking – if people didn't know already, they sure are now – and yet Killian can only laugh at his friend's excitement for him.
Which may or may not be a sad statement about his boring life, come to think about it.
"There is no date to speak of, Tinker Bell."
She scoffs and gives him a sideway glance only to scoff again seconds later. The girl knows him all too well, she's dangerous that way.
"Yeah, right. Tall, dork and Irish finally noticed by the golden princess? Come on, you're too big of a romantic sap for it not to happen."
He rolls his eyes, if only to show her that she doesn't have a point (she really does) before walking towards his next class. Unsurprisingly, Tink's weight slows him down, her shoes squeaking as he drags her along with him before she decides to use her legs like a normal human being. She still holds on to his arm, though, and Killian knows she will only let go when she gets what she wants – he wonders what he did in a previous life to end with so many stubborn people around him.
"Come on, Killian. I'm your best friend. Just tell me."
He looks around him quickly – people minding their own business and not eavesdropping the two weird misfits – before leaning to whisper in her ear.
Tink's excited giggle is all the answer he needs.
…
The blonde tornado strikes during lunch break.
He's taken a habit of hiding in the far corner of the library, where no on ever goes because the lightening isn't good and it's where they keep the maths books anyway. But, as it turns out, it isn't that good a hiding place, as she finds him all too easily.
Killian is in the middle of his sandwich and his reading of Lewis Carroll's biography (creepy dude), getting a head start on the essay they were given that morning, when she plops down on the seat next to him. He's that close to yelping, and it's a miracle if he manages to swallow down the sound because, bloody hell, that was unexpected.
(He kind of choke on his sandwich, too.)
Emma leans forwards with her arms folded on the table, high ponytail still swaying behind her, eyes shining. She used to wear glasses up until a few years back and, now that he can take a close look at her, Killian notice the borders of the contact lenses around the vibrant green pupils. She's too close, actually, his heart beating faster for something that has nothing to do with the fear she gave him seconds before.
She's here, and it doesn't mean any good.
So he does what any sensible guy would do – he goes back to his reading of Lewis Carroll's disturbing photo sessions with Alice Liddell and pretty much ignores the blonde sitting there and fluttering her eyelashes are him like it's a freaking game. Which, of course, doesn't seem to please her as she clicks her tongue and looks around her with a frown. It is only a matter of seconds before–
"So, what are you doing?"
Killian fights back a smile – how very predictable of her – before showing her the book he's reading with further explanations. She's a clever lass, she can connect the dots on her own.
"Seriously?" she says, and it's a little breathless, verging on confused. "It's only three pages long and due in two weeks. That's the kind of essay you do the previous night."
Aye, for folks like you, he wants to reply, but settles for raising an eyebrow instead as he closes the book a bit too dramatically. Truth is, he couldn't write an entire essay the previous night to save his life, needing to triple check every fact and do some intense researches on the subjects and basically read too many books in a short period of time. He's anal that way.
(University is going to be so much fun.)
"What do you want, Swan? Because it surely isn't my company."
There's a look in her eyes just then, one that hits a little too close to home and takes him by surprise, but she snaps out of it before he has time to decipher whatever emotions he sees dancing behind her green pupils. Instead, she rummages through his pencil case and starts playing with two paper clips she finds there, linking them together over and over again. The motion of her fingers almost looks nervous, which can't be right – Emma Swan doesn't do nervous, 'confidence' is the only word in her vocabulary.
"We haven't planned our date yet."
He wants to groan and hit his forehead against the table. So he does just that, ignoring the part of him that has his heart beating faster at the sheer idea of spending time with her, alone, outside for school. Because this isn't about him and, no matter what Liam said last night, never will be. He admires the stubbornness, thought, and would admire it even more if it had nothing to do with him.
Alas…
Forehead still pressed to the cold wood of the table, he turns his head even so slightly to glance at her. Emma looks back with raised eyebrows of her own and a curious gleam in her eyes – he hasn't spooked her with his awkward dorkiness yet, but it will happen shortly. It always does. He doesn't look forwards to it.
"Poetry reading? Evening at the comic book store? Oh, how about an hour or two at the arcade?"
The curiosity on her features turns into a frown, lips pursed into the kind of pout he just wants to capture with his own mouth – eyes lingering there for a little too long before they meet hers again. She looks pissed, somehow. He guesses 'shortly' arrived sooner than expected after all.
"Stop doing that." He offers her a questioning shrug and shake of the head, to which she replies, "Stop putting yourself down because you're not like those jocks playing fetch in the stadium."
She takes him aback, to say the very least, and he sits straighter once more, only able to stare at her for long seconds. Those very same jocks she dated through the years, like it is always expected of pretty and popular girls like her – her cheerleader friend made it through the whole football team, if Tink's babblings are to believe, not that Killian cares much about it. Still, for Emma to put those guys down so easily… Aye, he did not see that coming.
(His heart does not flutter suddenly and it does not beat faster with hope. That's just ridiculous.)
Better change the subject before he makes a fool of himself; the maths section of the high school library isn't the best setting to profess his undying love to the girl in front of him.
"What's the bet anyway?"
She's the one to be caught by surprise this time, eyes a little wider and mouth forming a pretty 'o' before she replies. "Yeah, well… Fifty if we date until Christmas, a hundred for prom night."
That's – not what he expected.
"A hundred bucks? It that all I'm worth to you?"
A meaner person would have told Killian he isn't worth anything – Emma Swan may be many things, but mean she is not, and so she only crunches her nose in reply. Perhaps she too knows how ridiculous the whole thing is, or just how cheap her friend is. None seem to be good enough reasons to stop things before they even begin, thought, which he may or may not be grateful for. Killian hasn't decided yet.
"I didn't want anything at first, but Ruby insisted on some kind of payment... She insisted on a lot of things, actually… I'm sorry. I shouldn't…"
She stands up, ready to leave and call it a day. He should let her, if only so this crazy story could end already, everyone going back to their own little boring lives with their own groups of friends. But of course he doesn't, grabbing her wrist instead.
His eyes go wide when he realises they're touching, breath itching at the back of his throat – it's all so pathetic, the things she does to him by just being her, he wants to slap himself out of his unrequired puppy love. But her eyes are wide too, and she sits back with slow, cautious movements.
"Let's start with Christmas, shall we?" He hopes his grin doesn't turn him into the Cheshire cat, because he can feels himself falling into madness at that very moment. This is such a bad idea. "Far be it from me to let you lose that bet without a fight."
Her fluttering eyelashes turn him into the romantic sop Tink had accused him of being only hours before, pink high on his cheekbones by now.
"You'd be ready to date me just for the heck of his?"
I'd be ready to go to the end of the world for you.
"Your company is a cross I'm willing to bear if it means ruffling Lucas's feathers."
A beautiful lie, but one she believes if her nod and little pout are anything to go by. And that's about it, he thinks, just a nod to make things as official as they can get. Killian doesn't believe his luck (or is it luck, really?) but knows there is still work to be done before she sees more in him than a hundred dollars and annoying her best friend. It will need time but, well, Christmas is four months away from now.
And Killian Jones is a patient bloke.
"Saturday okay with you?"
She asks it so simply, like talking about the weather or their next history test, that it dawns on him how surreal this thing is. He's dating her. Him, Killian Jones, invisible nerd, is dating Emma Swan, princess extraordinaire, for a stupid bet. What even is his life?
"Aye. Yeah. Fine."
Awkward.
"Okay. Cool."
Awkwarder.
One final, determined, nod before she puts the paper clips back in his pencil case, grabs her bag, and stands up to leave. He just blinks up at her at first, neurons not quite finished with making the right connections just yet (and he knows it will take some time for that to happen).
"Swan," he says before she has time to escape and vanish by the other side of the bookcase.
She stops, looks back.
"Can I have your number?"
Her smile is dazzling, all white teeth and sparkling eyes, and Killian forgets how to breath for a second because – wow. She comes back, holding her hand to him, and their fingers brush when he gives her his phone. She type in her number quickly and, since he apparently entered another dimension without meaning to, takes a selfie for her contact picture with an exaggerated wink and grin.
"See you on Saturday," she whispers as she gives him the phone back, and he swears she sounds teasing or, dare he say, even flirty.
What. Even. Is. His life?