I'm so floored with the response to this story so far! I'm glad you are all as amused by the fake dating idea with these two as I am :) I hope to have another chapter up soon! Enjoys and as always, all rights and characters belong to OUAT.


What the hell am I even doing here?

Emma stood outside of Killian's house, leaning against the door of her car and staring at the beautiful architecture. Of course he'd live in a place like this. What an insufferable showoff.

It was everything a beach house on the Maine shoreline should be, but with a modernized feel that warmed the air surrounding Emma. The endless glass gave a clear view into the lower floor of the home where a fireplace was currently glowing despite the soft lighting already illuminating things and the vaulted ceilings of the second level soared up to a towering height. There were pristine glass doors that led off the front of the top floor to a deck that - from what Emma could tell - stretched all the way around the structure. The rolling waves in the nearby distance gave a sound to the scene. This guy was a teacher which was not exactly a lucrative profession - she had to be at the wrong place.

She began to rummage through her ridiculous purse for his note and her dignity. Where the hell did she put-

"Giving up already, Swan? I didn't peg you as the quitting type."

His voice was somewhat loud as he was standing on the upper deck, leaning forward with his hands bracing the beechwood surface. He had obviously gotten out of his dress clothes as quick as possible and he now wore faded jeans, a cable knit dark blue sweater, and Emma's least favorite grin - the genuine one that make her heart race.

"Not quitting," she finally replied. "Just trying to find your butler to let me in and take my coat."

"Oh, yeah, that," he said sarcastically, playing into her little game. "Well I figured Friday night...I said I was a gentleman so I may as well answer my own door eh? Food?"

Emma lifted the to-go bag she'd acquired as proof. She'd picked it up per his request with the receipt showing he'd already paid, but when she found he's already included the tip as well, she wondering what he was playing at.

"I always hold up my end of the deal, Jones."

"Clearly," he smirked and possibly winked. "Let yourself in. Be right down."

Emma took a deep breath and began her way up the concrete to the beautiful, weathered front door. She stood at odds with everything for a minute - well perhaps longer. When she finally reached for the handle, he was swinging it open.

"Last I checked," he laughed. "The door doesn't bite. For the record, neither do I unless you want-"

She shoved the take out bag into his arms with a glare and took a quick stride past him, ignoring his obvious innuendo. She actually had a much stronger interest to take in her surroundings. Given the house and his recent acquiesce to her idea, Emma found herself wondering who Killian Jones actually was.

"So how did you end up here? I mean - this place is beautiful and definitely not something I knew a teacher's salary could afford."

"Now you're only more interested because of my finances," he teased. "Never knew you to be so shallow, love. Let's just say that life has shown me fortune once or twice before."

He raised an eyebrow at her that signaled the end of her inquisition and that conversation. She wasn't amused - she'd get it out of him eventually.

The house was stunning - huge bay windows, stainless steel appliances, walnut wood floors, a smooth probably handcrafted table with matching chairs, and a roaring fireplace built into the wall just under a flatscreen TV. Decor was sporadic - he was a man after all - but Emma noticed it was mostly nautical themed. Fitting, she thought as she observed the room around her. She began to see a commonality - wood, wood, wood. It clicked.

"Killian, did you build this - I mean any...or, uh, all of this?"

She wasn't sure how to divide her question, but she knew he was quite the carpenter and it made her curious. This puzzle that was Killian Jones was really getting complicated - and Emma didn't do complicated.

"If I recally correctly," he answered, beginning to unpack their meal as he tossed her a saucy glance. "I am the one who gets to ask the questions tonight, love."

She rolled her eyes at him, moving back toward the kitchen where she watched his hands maneuver around the room. She found a seat on a barstool that sat next to the kitchen island - both clearly originally made. He passed her a plate and silverware before he moved to the refrigerator, which of course, made a technological sound of some sort as it opened. Ridiculous, Emma thought.

"My first question would be about what you'd like to drink," he inquired as he shuffled things around in the fridge. "Water? Beer? Wine?"

Of course he'd offer her alcohol. It wasn't that she had decided he was a lush of any sort, but he'd seen her drink before and given her wired state, perhaps he wanted her to relax a bit. Nope. This was business. Killian Jones could keep his libations to himself.

"Water is fine."

He grabbed a bottle for her and one for himself. She found herself a bit disappointed that the whole night seemed to be turning rather G rated - well perhaps PG with the looks he kept giving her. He stood on the opposite side of the island and handed her the water.

"So Emma Swan," he started, taking the cap off the bottle. "How long did you live in Boston?"

Hearing him use both of her names together was new and it caused her cheeks to blush a bit. This must be the start of his interrogation. It was kind of an odd place to begin, but she figured she could indulge him.

"I grew up there," she replied simply. "So about 17 years. Most of my family still lives there."

"Like your cousin and his family, right?"

"Yes, David and his family - his fiance as well. A few others also."

"You don't visit often then?"

"I try not to," she sighed. "Family tends to care about you and that usually means getting the third degree from everyone."

"Third degree about what?"

"Everything. Work. When I'm moving back home. Love interests."

"Well from what I can glean," he raised an eyebrow with a soft smile. "You don't seem to have much of an interest in love."

What a nosy bastard, she thought to herself. He seemed to think he knew so much about her, but she could never figure out how he knew anything. They talked sure - bantered actually. They'd spent time together at school things like chaperoning dances and helping set up new computers. She hadn't seen that much of him outside of an educational facility. That would be way too casual for her liking. Yet here she was, sitting in his beautiful house eating dinner while answering ridiculous questions - bested again by the same arrogantly handsome wood shop teacher.

"I have an interest in a love for things - my job mostly."

"I suppose that's a good thing," he said, toying with the corner of a napkin. "But tell me this, Emma. Have you ever even been in love?"

"Have you?"

She hadn't meant to snap back so quickly. She just didn't like how personal this questioning was becoming. She expected him to apologize for being so forward or to try to lighten the mood by shifting topics.

"I get to ask the questions, Swan. Since you asked so politely, I will tell you that yes I have."

He smiled confidently as he looked her with unwavering curiosity. She rolled her eyes at him and he chuckled at his tiny victory. He was such an expressive person - something she noticed the more time she spent around him. He took on almost everything as a task that required a plan - even eating. He'd been hovering over his food for a while now, cutting things and shifting things. Finally, he took a bite and she had to laugh inwardly at his well thought out approach.

"So," he continued. "I'm guessing that this lack of desire to return home doesn't just stem from your family's inquiries. What's your real reason for wanting to take someone along? Not that I'm surprised you'd choose me."

"I don't know why you think this is some backhanded way for me to admit I'm in love with you. I just need a date - plain and simple."

He furrowed his eyebrows, clearly knowing that is wasn't so plain and simple. He wasn't going to push her for an explanation she didn't seem ready to give. There was something guarded about Emma Swan and she wasn't going to let anyone in until she felt like it.

"Well fortunately for you, I happen to love weddings," Killian said in a lighthearted tone. "What's the agenda on this whole thing?"

"Well it's a true to print Boston wedding...which means it's not actually just the wedding..."

"Ah, I see," he replied, raising an eyebrow with a grin. "So you have roped me into being your date for a multistage event?"

"I'm not trying to manipulate you! It's not going to be that bad," she tried in a uncharacteristic flirty tone, looking up at him front under her eyelashes. "Just, you know...an engagement party, a weekend retreat with a few family members and friends...a rehearsal...the wedding..."

She began to realize how much she was asking of him as she listed off the steps to a big Bostonian wedding - but more than that, she began to calculate just how much time they'd be spending together. It made her shift in her chair a few times.

"But you, some of that could be cut out. Like, you don't have to come to the rehearsal. It's not even that big of a deal. We just have-"

"Calm down, Emma," he said, grabbing her hand unexpectedly. "I said I'd do it so I will. That is, unless you're having second thoughts?"

She took a moment to look at her hand that he was currently holding. There was an electricity there. His touch was warm and reassuring, something she hadn't felt in a long time. She lifted her eyes to meet his, expecting to find a seductive gaze or a flirty challenge, but she didn't. He looked at her concerned and even a bit vulnerable - like he was scared she'd changed her mind and this was all for naught. She subconsciously shook her head.

"Okay then," he smiled as he removed his hand. "I've got a proposition for your proposition."

"I knew this was coming," she sighed with defeat. "What do you want, Jones?"

"Well, by my count, this wedding extravaganza includes a string of many smaller events," he figured. "I assume at these small gatherings, you'll be wanting me to appear as if I'm not just a date but actually your significant other?"

He clicked his tongue on the 't' of the word 'significant'. She imagined how it would look for others to see them at the wedding - Emma Swan and her foreign, dashing boyfriend. It was dangerous, yes - but appealing in the strangest way. She nodded carefully.

"Then I suppose we should practice," he concluded, looking at her with a half smile. "Would't want to end up on different pages and collapse the whole facade, now would we?"

"What are you saying?"

He moved around to her side of the island, leaning back against the counter while still edging into her space. She didn't move except to look up at him. He grinned down at her, loving how the cards seemed to all be in his hand.

"Let's have dinner."

"We are having dinner," Emma said, twirling her fork in the air. "The same dinner that is going to get cold if you don't eat and stop invading my space, Jones."

"Not what I meant," he replied, setting her fork down and forcing her chin up so her eyes matched his. "Have dinner with me. Tomorrow night."

His eyes were drowning and unfairly dark blue. His hair was disheveled a bit, but still the same kind of soft-looking that made her want to run her fingers through it. His lips were pursed with the threat of a victorious smile. Emma wasn't sure what he was doing, but any other man would have only looked at her this way just before kissing her. Killian stayed stationary, waiting for her reply, but not lowering his gaze. She shouldn't do this, but once again, she couldn't help wondering what game he was setting up.

"Okay."