It had been almost three weeks since Killian had signed his contract with the BBC, and he still hadn't told anyone else about it. It wasn't like he hadn't been given the chance. David had invited him over for dinner and drinks twice in that time, and he'd gone to his parents for their traditional Sunday lunches too. However, every time he'd opened his mouth to tell his family and friends what he'd done, his mind had bombarded him with images of them all laughing so hard they ended up crying, and he'd quickly closed it again. He kept telling himself that he had time – there would be other opportunities to tell them all what he'd signed himself up for – however, the arrival of a message from his agent about a promotional photoshoot that was scheduled for later in the week, brought with it the understanding that Killian was rapidly running out of that time. If he didn't tell everyone soon, they'd find out about it when the lineup was revealed to the press at the start of the following month, and he knew that wouldn't go down well with his mother.

So after firing back a quick message to confirm his attendance at the shoot, Killian resolved to tell everyone the next time he saw them. He then did his best to push all thoughts of the stupid dance competition from his mind, as he made his way down to the music room he'd built in his basement to begin working on some new material for The Rogers' next album.

By the time Friday rolled around, Killian was out of excuses to dodge his friends and out of time to tell them the news before the big shoot. With a fair amount of reluctance, he dragged himself from his home and into his car to make the drive over to Elstree Studios once more, praying that he would make it through the day without being forced into something that involved sequins… or rhinestones… or glitter… or all three. He'd made the mistake of Googling previous contest shoots the night before, and even four bottles of Heineken hadn't been able to remove those images from his mind.

The one good thing about the shoot was that he would likely get the chance to see Emma Swan again. While their first meeting hadn't gone as well as he would have liked, Killian was hoping that once she saw his commitment to the show, she'd at least give him a chance. It was that hope which motivated him to get out of his car and make his way into the building, instead of turning it straight around to head home again and pretend the entire nightmare wasn't happening.

Once inside, it was easy to find his way up to the same floor he'd visited the last time he'd been there, and even easier to find his way through to the photography studio which had been erected inside one of the conference rooms. The whole place was a hustle and bustle of activity as big wads of brightly-coloured, sparking clothing were shuffled from one place to another, while people called for more hairspray and darker tans. The thought of any kind of tan had him shuddering on the spot and Killian turned, ready to flee the scene when she suddenly seemed to appear from thin air.

"Going somewhere, Jones?"

"Just to check in and see where I need to be," he told her, slapping on a smile that he hoped conveyed how excited he was, and not his fear of all the preening that seemed to be taking place around him.

"Male contestants are down the hall and to the left," she said, raising a brow at him in challenge.

Killian nodded his head firmly as he allowed that information to sink in for a moment. It was as he was nodding that his gaze caught on the shimmering gold she was already wearing.

"Wow, Swan! You sure know how to make a statement," he chuckled, as he drank in the sight of her.

Emma's long blonde hair was flowing around her shoulders in soft waves that Killian wanted nothing more than to run his fingers through. Her body was encased in some sort of golden playsuit that was covered in crystals and an honest-to-God tinsel fringe. He wasn't sure which part of her it enhanced the most – her wonderful cleavage, her amazing hips, or her strong, toned legs. The more he thought about it, the more Killian realised that it didn't matter because the overall effect was simply stunning.

"And?" she demanded, fitting her hands to her hips while she cocked her head in question.

"And… nothing," he quickly assured her, because she was starting to look angry again, and while she definitely made angry look hot, Killian didn't want to risk ruining any potential friendship that might form between them before she'd even given it a chance. "You, uh… you look great, Swan. Really, you do."

If anyone had asked him last year if there would ever be a time in his life where Killian Jones would have found bodysuits, crystals, fringe, and stacked bangles hot, he would likely have laughed in their faces. But right now, faced with Emma Swan in some sort of dance costume, Killian knew he was wrong. There was nothing sexier than the woman currently glaring up at him through her lashes.

"Uh-huh," she said, filling her tone with as much disbelief as she possibly could, before she finally added, "Well, if you're planning on being a part of this series, you'd better hurry up. The last thing you wanna do is make the girls in the wardrobe department unhappy. They'll have you in the ugliest outfits they can dream up every week."

The thought of that seemed to lift her mood for a moment as she gave the wall behind his left shoulder a dreamy smile, but just as quickly as it had arrived, it was gone, and so was she.

Killian took a moment to watch her leave, savouring the way the fringe on the bottom of her bodysuit swayed with every step she took, before he spun on his heels and headed for the door. Once out in the hallway, he began searching the rooms to his left, looking for the one labelled, 'Male Contestants Changing Rooms.'

Emma Swan watched him go, shaking her head with disbelief as she did. She had been certain the arrogant git would never show; that his big display of signing his contract had all been some sort of act that would result in his agent calling into the office sick for him the very next day. She still wasn't entirely sure she trusted that he would make it to the first live show, but she would give him credit where it was due – he'd proven her wrong so far, and she would be happy to have him prove her wrong again. After all, the show could use the ratings boost he was sure to bring. That being said, she wouldn't be offering him any praise until those cameras started rolling on a Saturday evening in late September.

As Killian Jones finally vanished from view, Emma gave her head a little shake to clear all thoughts of the man from her mind, then turned her attention to Ashley who was headed her way.

"Hey, you," she greeted, leaning forward to brush a kiss to her friend's cheek. "How's little Alexandra doing?"

Emma's look for this chapter is based on an image of professional dancer Ola Jordan. You can find that on my Tumblr page.

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