Playing House

CS Genre: AU

A/N: This little story was originally written to fill a Tumblr prompt. The prompt was "I'm sorry that I got way too into playing house and accidentally kissed you passionately." Enjoy!

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Emma Swan looked through the peep-hole on her apartment door and groaned. Then her traitorous heart began pounding. Then she groaned again. What the hell was he doing here? After what happened yesterday she was hoping she'd never have to see him again as long as she lived.

"I know you're there, Swan," came his muffled, cocky voice through the door. "I can feel your glare from here."

"Shut up, Jones," she gritted out. "Just….just go away."

She heard his chuckle. "Come now love, is that any way to treat your 'husband'?"

Emma felt the heat creep up to her cheeks. She should have known he'd take it like this. Killian "I'm-the-biggest-womanizer-on-the-eastern-seaboard" Jones was a menace to society. No way he'd just let her little…moment of indiscretion go without a whole boatload of innuendo.

He knocked again. Smugly. How it was possible to knock smugly, she didn't know, but he found a way. "Come, love. Let me in. Though I enjoyed our…ahem…moment, I think we need more practice to perfect our…shall we say…technique."

Her face flamed even brighter if that was possible, as her mind rushed back to that moment about ten hours ago when she'd totally lost her head. (Nine hours, fifty-two minutes and sixteen seconds ago, to be exact, her traitorous brain supplied.) Fevered images of lips locking. Hot breath mingling. Mouths melding. Hands carding through hair. Heart racing. It had been the stupidest moment of her life, and the last person she wanted to see this morning was the idiot who was still cheerfully banging on her door.

Still…if she didn't let him in the whole building would probably figure out what happened. If she knew her neighbor across the hall…and she knew Leroy Little…he had his ear pressed up against his door right now hanging on every word Romeo out there was saying. And knowing Leroy it would take him approximately three and a half seconds to spread the juicy gossip to every corner of the city.

Gritting her teeth, she unlocked the door and gestured for the son of a bitch to come in. He swaggered in with the cockiest grin she'd ever seen. Him with his stupid skin-tight black jeans and ridiculous blue button-down—that was currently unbuttoned practically to his navel-and his windswept hair, and stupid sexy British accent. He was…he was a pain in the ass of mammoth proportions. (So why did her heart do a little swoop of ecstasy just at the sight of him?)

It was all his stupid fault! All of this! She was going to kill him…then she was going to kill Mary Margaret…then she was going to kill him again. (And somewhere along the way she was going to convince her traitorous heart that she was NOT attracted to him. That she flat out disliked him.)

Mary Margaret and David had gone out of town for the past weekend and asked her to house-sit while they were gone. What her oh-so-sneaky best friend had failed to tell her is that they'd also invited David's best friend, Killian Jones, to housesit as well. Mary Margaret could say all she wanted about how it was all a mix-up, a miscommunication, all of that, but Emma knew the truth. This whole stunt had Mary Margaret's matchmaking fingerprints all over it.

Things had worked out alright until that vacuum cleaner salesman stopped by. What was his name? Something Walsh? They'd tried to turn him away, but he just wouldn't go! He muscled his way in, vowing to impress their socks off with his demonstration of just how much his product sucked. (Yeah, he actually used that phrase.)

He'd just assumed they were Mr. and Mrs. Nolan, given the name on the mailbox, and they didn't correct him, because to correct him would be to talk to him and that might encourage him.

"Lovely place you've got here, folks!" he said, cheerfully ignoring their less-than-welcoming scowls. "Wanna keep it that way. Young couple like you, probably hasn't been married long, eh?"

"Not long at all," Killian said, one corner of his mouth quirking up in amusement. "First time anyone's addressed us as Mr. and Mrs. Nolan, as a matter of fact."

Walsh gave him a knowing grin and elbowed him in the ribs. "Got better things to do with your brand new wife than waste time vacuuming the floor with an inferior product, am I right?"

Emma rolled her eyes. It wasn't bad enough she was stuck with David's player of a best friend for the weekend, now she couldn't even get a stupid door-to-door salesman to leave the house? She hated her life. Despised it.

And then, as Walsh droned on and on about the suction power of his cleaning apparatus, Emma finally had enough. Maybe if asking nicely didn't work, making the stupid salesman uncomfortable as hell would. Rolling her eyes, she pulled on Killian's lapels and hauled him in for what was supposed to be nothing more than a stage kiss.

Only…the moment her lips touched his, she lost all reason, all semblance of control, all sense whatsoever. For all she knew, everyone and everything else in the world disappeared. It was just her and Killian and the not-even-close to fake kiss they were sharing. It had taken him all of half a second to catch up to her, mouth opening instantly, pillaging and plundering like he was a pirate and she was his treasure.

Who knows how long it would have lasted if a slightly uncomfortable chuckle hadn't sounded from the salesman that they'd both completely forgotten. The sound brought Emma back to her senses, and she realized with horror her hands had slipped beneath Killian's largely unbuttoned shirt and begun carding through his ridiculous chest hair.

Face flaming she'd jumped to her feet, muttered something about having to go and fled the house like the hounds of hell were after her. She'd hoped to be able to hide under a rock for about a week, but no such luck. Less than twelve hours later Mr. "I'm God's Gift to Women" himself had to show up at her door.

She hated her life.

"Lovely home you've got here, Swan," Killian drawled, taking a seat on her sofa.

Emma came back to the present with a snap. Oh lord, had she just been daydreaming about last night's make out session? Had it shown on her face? She had to take control of this situation. Now!

"Look, Killian," she said, plopping onto a plush armchair across from him and resolutely not looking him in the eyes. "I'm sorry that I got way too into playing house and accidentally kissed you passionately."

He grinned wickedly. "No matter, Swan. I'm certainly not going to complain about an enthusiastic kiss from a stunning woman."

She felt her face flame yet again. Only this time her anger came to her defense. She jumped to her feet and began pacing. "Look, buddy. I know guys like you! You think every woman around you ought to just fall at your feet, kiss you senseless and then take you to bed. Well you know what? I'm not every woman. I'm not some notch on your bedpost. Believe it or not, there are some women out there who have a little self-respect."

"Swan," his voice was serious; totally devoid of teasing. It was that that convinced her to stop her pacing and actually look at him. There was aching earnestness in his eyes. "I'm well aware my reputation precedes me, and though it's exaggerated, I can't pretend it's entirely inaccurate."

She plopped back down in her chair.

"But," he continued, leaning slightly toward her. "That all changed the moment I met you."

She gaped at him. What was he saying?

"Think back, love. I haven't so much as looked at another woman since the night Dave introduced us."

"Are you…" she said, her voice squeaking. She cleared her throat and started again. "Are you saying you have feelings for me?"

He looked her square in the eyes. "Aye. That I do. I'd thought they were unrequited, but after last night…well, I had hoped that you felt as I did. At least in part."

She let her breath out in a long whoosh. Well, this was unexpected. She looked in his eyes, and there was no lie there, no manipulation, nothing but absolute sincerity. Could it be that she'd misjudged him?

"Killian," she began, hardly knowing what she planned to say. Hardly even knowing what she wanted to say. "It…it was just a kiss."

"Aye," he nodded, "but perhaps one day it could be more. There was a fire between us last night, love, and I'd like nothing more than to discover whether it was a one-time thing or whether it could be the beginning of something magical. So what do you say, Swan. Will you take a leap of faith? Will you let this reformed ladies' man prove himself to you?"

Her heart raced. Was it possible? Could there be something real and beautiful between them? If she let him into her life, it could end in heartbreak and utter disaster. But it could also lead to a true love the likes of which she'd never experienced.

Was she willing to take the chance?

Praying fervently that she wouldn't come to regret this, she looked him firmly in the eyes and smiled. "Okay. How about we go talk about it over coffee?"

Notes:

-Friday again! No episode this weekend, but that might be a good thing. I think we ALL need more time to recover from 5x8 and prepare our souls for 5x10. The angst-fairies have been hard at work with this story arc! I am, however an irrepressible optimist, when it comes to this show and I'm absolutely positive everything is not only going to end up okay, but amazing. In the event you find yourself nervous or losing hope, feel free to stop by my Tumblr page (whimsicallyenchantedrose). I've already written thousands of words of reassurance and optimism, and I'm sure I'll write more!

-Up next: Next Friday is the day after Thanksgiving here in the U.S., so I was thinking about going with a Thanksgiving theme. This one's going to be a canon fic that takes place not long after 5b—aka not long after all the angst gets resolved once and for all and CS get a chance to just be happy together for a while.