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shireness-says · 6 years

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Playing the Part ch. 2: Getting to Know You

Summary: As a stage manager who's clawed her way up from bottom, Emma Swan can handle just about anything thrown her way. But does that include handsome lead actor Killian Jones? A CS Broadway AU. Rated T. Also on AO3. Prologue Ch. 1

A/N: We’re back, with my favorite Jones Brothers conversation I’ve written so far and a great Captain Swan bonding moment! Chapter title from “The King and I”.

Thanks, as always, to @snidgetsafan, my phenomenal beta. She’s the absolute best.

A disclaimer: This chapter addresses Belle's backstory, which is... less than pleasant. Nothing so bad that there need to be archive warnings, but power dynamics were definitely taken advantage of. I want to make it clear that I'm not condoning what's happened to her, and I've tried to express that in the actual writing, but I just want to reiterate it here. Just because it happened, doesn't mean I'm ok with it, or that you have to be either.

That being said, I hope you enjoy the chapter anyway!

Tags: @kmomof4, @winterbaby89, @thejollyroger-writer, @mythologicalmango, @onceuponaprincessworld, @idristardis, @teamhook, @courtorderedcake, @aerica13, @revanmeetra87, @snowbellewells, @searchingwardrobes

“... but not handsome enough to tempt me.”

God, he hates that line. Yes, it’s from the source material, and yes, it is crucial to the plot, but he always feels like an absolute dick saying it. Belle is an absolutely lovely woman, inside and out, and doesn’t deserve to hear those words directed her way, even in character.

He’s actually apologized for the way he’s acted before in character, had felt like he had to. Belle, bless her heart, laughed and waved off his apologies.

“For the record, I can tell the difference between you and your character, Killian,” she had said. “Please don’t worry about it.”

But he worries anyways. Part of it is just his nature, Killian supposes - he’s a man with a heart built for concern and mild anxiety, it seems. But Belle really does seem rather isolated, and he hates to reinforce that even in character.

He’s heard the rumors, of course - the industry is smaller than they’d like to pretend, and when word made it around that Belle French had been cast in the iconic role of Elizabeth Bennet, old gossip about the woman had made the rounds again too. It’s a horrible story, predictable in all the worst ways: young, up-and-coming actress embarks on a relationship with an older producer. Actress decides that the relationship has run its course. Actress is suddenly, mysteriously branded as “difficult to work with” and struggles to land roles.

Meeting Belle in person, it’s particularly absurd. She’s ridiculously talented and probably one of the nicest and least difficult people he knows and really, it’s not fair. There’s been an increase in accountability in this industry lately, something that’s desperately needed, but the lawyers are still focused on the things they can prosecute - obvious cases of assault and manipulation. Belle’s circumstances don’t clearly fit either of those criteria, having willingly engaged in the relationship, one she thought was based on mutual respect and affection. It doesn’t help that Gold is a major player in this game, able to affect people’s opinions for better or worse with his word alone. For the past several years, Belle’s just been left to flounder on her own with her professional reputation wrongly in tatters. For the moment, no one cares. It’s all so disgustingly unfair.

Personally, Killian thinks Belle deserves the world. He hopes this show is a massive success for a variety of reasons - selfish ones obviously included - but not the least of them is the hope that it’ll reshape the current narrative around Belle, show that she’s talented and kind and an absolute delight. She needs that. She deserves that.

Belle tells him about it herself one day over a cup of tea during one of the rehearsal breaks. He didn’t ask, not explicitly, but she must sense the confusion in his eyes and in his mind about how someone with so much sheer raw talent has been cast aside by the industry.

“He was such a gentleman at first, you know? Yeah, I was getting roles, and probably part of that was because I was seeing him, but I genuinely loved him, and him me. I knew he had a reputation for being tough and focused on success above everything else, but he always encouraged me, and was so happy when I landed roles and was doing well. So when I felt the relationship had come to a natural end, I just figured…” She pauses in her recounting, hurriedly wiping at the tears forming in her eyes. Killian tries to comfort her as best he can, digging one-handed through his pockets for a tissue as he tries to rub her back soothingly with the other. He feels so useless, so male in this situation, but he’s still determined to help and comfort her in any way he can.

“I feel so stupid some days,” Belle continues, gratefully accepting the single kleenex he was able to locate in an inner jacket pocket (and God, he hopes it wasn’t used). “I just… I should have known right away he was insane.”

Killian likes to think he’s a good friend, and a good man, but he’s also a kid who grew up in theaters and around theatre kids, and as he does his best to reassure his scene partner that she’s in no way responsible for the actions of that bastard, he has to forcibly remind himself not to smile at such a bad time at her unintentional quoting.

The stage manager, Emma, is walking past at just that moment, though, and he’s pretty sure he hears her mutter the next words under her breath, so he’s comforted by the knowledge that he’s not the only one with terrible timing and a bad sense of humor.

But again, it’s not the time to ask about it. Killian is 100% focused and committed to being a supportive friend to Belle in this moment - he’ll have to ask later. Preferably out of earshot, before they both get a reputation for being horrible human beings who laugh at unfortunate times.

But there’s never really a chance to ask later - their short break is up before he knows it, and then it’s straight back into choreography. Their choreographer, a vibrant redhead named Ariel, may have a sweet demeanor, but there’s a spine of steel underneath that smile, and Killian knows better than to dawdle. He’ll catch Emma later, he thinks, some time when he’s not needed. But even in those moments when Killian doesn’t strictly need to be doing anything but hang around and watch, waiting for his next instructions and ideally reviewing the script (it’s never too soon to be off book, after all), Swan is invariably still busy.

So Killian waits. The opportunity will present itself, he’s sure.

------

It’s been a good day, Emma is pleased to note. The sheer potential of this show is truly shaping up into something that, with plenty of polishing, just might be magnificent. There’s always going to be issues - after working so many shows, Emma has learned that off-stage drama is an inevitability - but for the most part, even the cast is obliging her by staying professional and getting along. Which is literally all she asks for. Zelena has a definite penchant to complain about anything and everything, but it’s not yet at a point that they can’t handle or that needs addressing.

Still, even a good day is exhausting in it’s own way. Emma is ready to make whatever calls are necessary (just Robin and the props guy today, she thinks), and get home. Yeah, the apartment will be quiet with Henry at Neal’s for Labor Day weekend, but she could probably use a little quiet - a chance to recharge, if you will.

However, that chance disintegrates at the sight of Mary Margaret approaching with a smile full of intent. For all her sweetness, Emma’s learned that her friend can be stubborn and determined, nigh on unmovable when she wants to be, and all the signs are suggesting this will be one of those times.

“Emma!” the petite brunette practically chirps. “It’s been so long since we’ve had a Girl’s Night, hasn’t it?”

It’s not a subtle opening at all, and Emma spots where Mary Margaret is going with this from a mile away. “Oh, I don’t know,” she tries to deflect, hoping against hope that maybe she can still wheedle herself out of these plans. “Seems like we all did something only a few weeks ago —”

“Don’t be silly,” Mary Margaret interrupts, flippantly waving a hand as if to literally shoo Emma’s protests away. “You’re thinking of that brunch date we had, the one Henry came to. It’s been ages since we had a proper Girls’ Night. And since Henry’s gone this weekend, really, there’s no better time!”

“I don’t know,” Emma tries to protest. “I’ve really got a lot that still needs doing, I don’t know if I’ll be able to make it.” It’s not true in the least. The best part about a good day is that even when she is left with things on her to-do list, they’re quick little housekeeping bits, not major crises she needs to untangle. Unfortunately, after a decade of friendship, Mary Margaret knows that too, and fixes her with an unimpressed look.

“Uh uh,” she responds, shaking her head with finality. “No excuses. I’m going to find Ruby, and we are going out. I won’t let you sit at home all lonely with Henry gone. You’re not getting out of this, Emma Swan.”

Much as Emma hates to admit it - hates to admit defeat in general, really - she’s well aware that she really isn’t going to be able to weasel her way out of this. When Mary Margaret gets that look in her eye and that tone in her voice, nothing can sway her from whatever evil plan she’s devised. For better or worse, Emma will be going out tonight. She only hopes it won’t be too miserable an outing. “Fine,” she concedes, holding up a hand to silence Mary Margaret’s happy squeal. “But I am not lonely. And only for a little bit.”

“Oh Emma, we’re going to have so much fun!” her friend gushes, seemingly ignoring the end of Emma’s sentence. “I’ll call Ruby right now, have her meet us at the Grey Lady. Oh! I wonder if Belle would want to go!”

Emma groans as her dreams of a quiet evening in drift further and further away with every expansion of Mary Margaret’s plans. The likelihood of fun seems pretty small right now; Emma settles for just hoping she’ll make it out of this alive and sans hangover.

------

It’s been a long day, but a rewarding one. His script is filled with new notes, he finally isn’t tripping over the rhythms of the proposal scene song, and his feet are tired from practicing ballroom steps over and over again. It’s a pattern he’s getting used to, day by day, but the fact still remains; it’s exhausting.

Killian is just planning to finally go talk to their fearless stage manager, see if she said what he’s 87.9% certain he heard and hopefully trudge home when Nolan practically corners him, effectively ending that plan.

“You’ve got to come out tonight,” David whispers frantically, hunched over in a way that he must think looks surreptitious, but in reality just looks awkward and uncomfortable.

“Ok…” Killian whispers back. “Why?”

“Because I just heard that Mary Margaret is going to be at the Grey Lady tonight with a group of friends!”

“...okay, and?”

“And I like her!” David hisses, seemingly insulted for no apparent reason.

“Calm down, mate, jeez. What, you need an excuse to go, rather than just showing up?”

“Yes!”

“Do I have to whisper the entire night?”

This is apparently the last of David’s patience, as he rolls his eyes and snaps out a response. “For God’s sakes, no. Now will you come with me, or not?”

It’d really be mean at this point, after all the teasing, to tell him no. Killian doesn’t really have plans anyways; he’d tentatively scheduled a call with Liam, but they can always talk later and text throughout the night.

“Alright, Dave, I’ll go with you. Where’s this place at?”

“... About that…”

Excellent.

------

Only for a little bit, she had told Mary Margaret. And she had meant it; despite all her friend’s wheedling about how she’d be lonely at home with Henry at Neal’s, Emma had been looking forward to a quiet evening. Of course, that’s all wishful thinking.

Belle had been interested in joining the outing, as had Elsa, as had their Lydia and three of the chorus girls since it seemed like Mary Margaret had invited every female member of the cast. The Grey Lady has been reduced to a cacophony of female laughter and conversation as Emma desperately tries to either escape or ignore the chaos, both efforts to no avail. For the moment, Emma’s perched at the end of the bar with Elsa trying to cheer her up, purple drink in hand (a Grateful Dead, because “you can’t just get whiskey, Emma, this is Girls’ Night, you have to get something fun.” Ugh.).

“I know you don’t want to be here in the least,” Elsa tries to cajole, “but hey, as long as you’re here, you might as well make the most of it. We can play a game of darts or something if you want, that’d at least get you out of the major crush here at the bar.”

She means so well, trying to coax Emma out of the corner and out of her funk, but honestly, Emma’s quite determined to stay exactly as she is. “It’s really fine, Elsa,” she replies. “Honestly, I’m just hoping that if I sit here and don’t move for long enough, Mary Margaret will forget that I’m here and maybe I can just slip out.”

Elsa snorts at that, which is really enough of a response on its own. “Yeah, good luck with that.” Her face still turns concerned and serious when the humor wears off as she does her best to fuss over Emma. “Are you sure? I’m happy to stay with you if you want, but if you don’t…” Elsa trails off tellingly. Emma honestly feels a little bit bad. For all her introversion, Elsa really does enjoy evenings out like this when she sets her mind to it, and Emma is effectively holding her back from having fun by insisting on being a sad sack at the bar.

“Really, Elsa, I’m fine. Go have fun! It looks like they’re starting some kind of drinking game up over there, that’ll certainly be entertaining if nothing else.”

Elsa’s eyes dart back towards the other ladies longingly, but her voice and body language is still hesitant. “If you’re sure…”

“Yes! I’ll be fine. Don’t let my attitude ruin the night, I’m happy enough with my stupid purple drink. You know I like watching drinking games more than playing anyways. Go!”

“Alright, but you’ll let me know if you change your mind and want company, right?” Elsa fusses as she grabs her drink and stands to leave. It’s a small progress. Emma nods impatiently, all but ready to push Elsa towards the other women. It must be obvious on her face though, as Elsa laughs before dropping an affectionate kiss on the side of Emma’s head. “Ok, ok, I’m gone. Do try to have fun, Emma, just find someone to talk to for ten minutes. And don’t drink too much, because I’m going to need you to lead me back home!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Emma mutters in response. She makes no promises, especially on the socializing front.

———

The bar is much busier than Killian had expected when he, David, and Booth arrive. Killian isn’t exactly sure how the last man got invited; he certainly didn’t have any part in it. August Booth is a genial enough man, however, a perfect casting for Colonel Fitzwilliam in temperament, so his presence tonight won’t be any true hardship. If Killian had to hazard a guess, David had probably invited him for more credence to his cover story that he just happens to be at the same bar as the lady he’s interested in on some sort of boys’ night outing. It seems that the ladies’ outing may have expanded as well; while Killian had expected to see Mary Margaret and Swan, it appears half the female cast is crowded into the bar as well, Mary Margaret unsurprisingly at the center of everything, playing hostess even though the bar is obviously not her house. It doesn’t take long for her to notice their own little group’s entrance, and she hurries over with a wide smile.

“David! Killian! August! What a pleasant surprise!” she gushes. Killian is amused to see that her cheeks are ever-so-slightly flushed. Perhaps David’s little crush isn’t quite so ridiculous as he seems to think. David himself looks a little struck by his lady’s entrance, so Killian quickly takes the reins of the conversation.

“Aye, it truly is. Thought we’d go out tonight, have a bit of a bonding exercise. You don’t mind that we’re here, do you? We didn’t mean to crash whatever you’ve got going on here.” It’s a blatant lie, but Killian is counting on the brunette being too flustered by their - well, David’s sudden appearance to notice.

It seems to be working, thankfully, as Mary Margaret smiles brightly. “Of course not! We planned this as a little Girls’ Night, but you’re more than welcome to stay and socialize! The more the merrier, right?”

It’s impossible not to like the woman, really. While she’s far too perky for Killian to ever be romantically interested, Mary Margaret is such a deeply kind and pleasant person that only the truly cruel would ever take a dislike to her. “Aye, thank you.”

“Is that some sort of drinking game I see about to start?” August cuts in, likely saving them all from an encounter quickly veering towards the awkward and overly sincere.

“I think it’s more of a contest, knowing Ruby,” their quasi-host laughs, “but yes, they’re about to start. A bit wild for me, so I was about to go get another cosmo. David, Killian? Do either of you want to join me?” The invitation is technically extended to both of them, but Killian sees the way her gaze keeps focusing on David, hears the way her voice pitches up hopefully, and quickly makes his excuses.

“I actually think I might grab a beer and try my hand at the dart board, so I’ll leave you two to it.” It’s probably not the most subtle move, but David’s already shooting him a grateful look, so he supposes that his words have been effective enough.

It’s as he’s walking further down the bar to get his drink that he spots Swan in the corner, where he hadn’t noticed her when he had entered the bar, wearing a sour look on her face and sipping on something in a near fluorescent purple. Somehow, he’s not surprised to see her set apart from the thick of things; their straight-laced stage manager doesn’t seem like she’d be particularly comfortable in a chattering crowd of women. It may be taking his life in his hands considering the look Swan has on her face, but he veers to join her at the end of the bar, more enthusiastic about the prospect of spending his time chatting with her than facing the female crush everywhere else.

The skeptical look Swan shoots him as he saunters over with a charming smile should be his second warning, but Killian’s never had much of a self-preservation instinct anyways. “Fancy meeting you here,” he grins.

Swan snorts in return. “Oh, that’s what you’re going with?”

“I couldn’t possibly know what you mean.” It’s another blatant lie, and unlike Mary Margaret, Killian can see that Swan knows exactly why he’s really doing in this bar, sees right past all his and David’s excuses.

“Oh please,” Swan replies, rolling her eyes and confirming what he had expected about her ability to spot his lies. “Like you guys showing up isn’t a blatant excuse for David to flirt with Mary Margaret. The only reason she doesn’t realize it is she’s so damn smitten herself. It’s a little disgusting.”

“You wound me, Swan. It’s an absolute coincidence that we happen to be at the same bar.” Receiving a final unamused look, he collapses onto a stool, giving up the pretense. “They really are smitten, aren’t they? And absolutely obtuse about the matter.”

“Really, they are,” Swan grumbles in return. “Like, it’s so obvious they’ve got a thing for each other, I’m about ready to start placing bets about how long it will take.”

Killian chuckles. “Well, let me know if you ever do, I’d be happy to contribute to the pot.” There’s silence between them for a few minutes as Killian orders his beer, turning back to his companion once his cold drink is in hand. “I can leave you alone if you’d prefer,” he offers, noting the stormy look still occupying her face. “Conversation with you seemed much less intimidating than with the chattering female masses over there, but if you prefer —”

“It’s fine, really,” she waves him off. “I’m just…” she pauses, as if trying to find the words to explain.

“Really Swan, I don’t need an explanation if you don’t —”

“Did you know I have a son?” she interrupts.

It’s news to him. It does explain why he so often catches her trying to surreptitiously check her phone - probably trying to make sure nothing’s wrong with her boy. As he shakes his head in the negative, Emma continues.

“Well, I do. He’s ten. He’s with his dad this weekend. And I’m glad he’s excited about that, but it always makes me…” She waves at her face and its expression, as if that’s an acceptable substitute for actually finishing her sentence with words. Honestly, she’s not wrong on that front, her irritated expression speaking volumes. “So it’s not you, and it’s not the company, and it’s not this outing or party or whatever.” She pauses. “Ok, maybe the last one, but that’s because I’d much rather be at home angrily drinking by myself than being dragged out on the town. But Mary Margaret and Ruby are convinced that if I’m at home, I’ll be wallowing in loneliness, so they dragged me out here against my will.” Another eye roll clearly illustrates Swan’s own thoughts on the matter, and Killian finds himself inexplicably charmed by the gesture. The more he learns and sees of Emma Swan, the more he’s fascinated by her, and he’s glad she hasn’t just unceremoniously sent him on his way tonight.

“Ah, well, that makes two of us,” Killian replies genially, before immediately backtracking. “Not the son bit, but the not particularly wanting to be here. I’d planned to go home and call my brother tonight, but David practically begged me to help in this little farce and… well, long story short, here I am.”

“Here we both are.” She raises her glass to his in a short salute to the unenthusiastic and unwilling.

After taking a swig of his beer, Killian sets his glass back down and turns to Emma with purpose. “It’s not all bad, really. I’ve been trying to find a moment to speak with you all day.”

“Oh?” Her eyebrows raise in curiosity and confusion as she raises her own glass to take another sip of her purple monstrosity. Based on the way her mouth puckers as the alcohol hits her tongue, he thinks she might feel the same way about her beverage.

“Well, you see, I thought I heard you quoting a certain musical earlier…”

Swan immediately groans, her head dropping as if in resignation or defeat. Killian is confident that the only thing keeping her from banging her head on the counter is her folded arms braced against the worn and stained wood. “I was hoping no one heard that.”

“‘This is my husband, we’re from Maine’? I’m impressed by your Sondheim knowledge, Swan, but your timing needs work.”

“I know, I know. It’s… Henry and I have this game, you see, where we try to slip in lyrics without the other knowing. He actually knows a lot, just by virtue of being my kid and practically being raised in theaters. So when I heard Belle, I wasn’t trying to turn it into a joke or something awful like that, it was just… a reflex, I guess.”

“Second nature,” Killian nods in return. “I’m not holding it against you, love, a man just doesn’t expect to hear Assassins quotes tossed around willy-nilly.”

“Thanks.” Catching the bartender’s attention, she holds up her glass in the universal sign for ‘more, please’. “For the record, I’m impressed you caught that. Assassins is pretty much at the top of my list of shows to see, but not everyone knows about it.”

“You can blame my brother for that,” Killian chuckles. “After I decided to become a theatre actor, he decided I needed a full history of the genre. Except the tosser knows next to nothing about musicals and can’t sing a note, so it was mostly just him telling me a lot of Sondheim and Andrew Lloyd Webber facts. Which means I know a disproportionate amount about Cats and Into the Woods. Assassins was at least a more enjoyable entry in his so-called education.”

The story at least gets her to laugh, displacing that foul look she’s been wearing for a moment. “Your brother sounds like a handful. I mean, it sounds like he means well, but wow.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Killian grumbles, eliciting another laugh from his companion. He could get used to that sound, given the chance. “But enough about that wanker. What would you say to a game of pool, Swan?”

Her answering grin is acceptance and challenge, all at once. “Oh, you’re on, Jones.”

———

It’s late when Killian finally calls Liam; he’s not rightfully sure how late, a series of beers, and later glasses of rum, blurring his perception of time, but he knows it’s far past a respectable hour. The only saving grace is that his older brother is currently out in Los Angeles, three hours behind Killian’s local time. Perhaps that will do something to make up for the perceived lateness of the hour.

“Hello?” sounds Liam’s voice from the other end of the line, and Killian is relieved to hear that his brother’s voice is the normal kind of tired, not the just-woken-up kind. Killian may be a bit drunk, but he’s not so far gone that he can’t tell the difference.

“Brother!” he practically chirps in response. “I know it’s late, but I promised I’d call, didn’t I?”

The chuckle from the other end of the line is warm, if exhausted. “Aye, that you did. Tell me, Killy, how much have you had to drink? Are you ok to find your way home?”

“Oh, a good bit. I’ll be fine.” Liam definitely can’t see the dismissive wave of Killian’s hand, but that doesn’t stop him in the least, his impulse control and logic severely compromised. “David convinced me to come out. Have I told you about Dave, Liam? Dave’s a good mate.”

“Aye, you have. I might have to have a few words with Dave if this is going to become a regular occurence. It’s after 11, Killian, which is even later for you.”

“Oh, don’t scold Dave. I didn’t even spend most of the night with him, I spent it with Swan! I’ve talked about Swan before, haven’t I, Liam?” Oh, he really ought to have talked about Swan before. It’d be a utter shame if he hadn’t - he just can’t properly remember right now.

“Are you making friends with birds, Killy?” Liam’s voice is amused, but Killian is less so upon hearing his older brother’s response.

“Don’t be daft, Liam,” he all but snaps. “No, Swan is the stage manager. I must have told you about her.”

The voice on the other end of the line hums as if in realization. “Ah, the one you’re so fascinated with?”

Even with his delayed responses, Killian can feel himself blush. “I’m not fascinated, Liam,” he explains in what he thinks is a perfectly level and reasoned tone of voice, slightly slurred words be damned. “She’s just a very nice lady. And talented. And lovely too.” The humming noise comes from the other end of the line again, causing Killian to adopt a defensive tone. “I don’t have a crush on her Liam, stop that.”

“I never said you did,” Liam says with amusement coloring his voice. Killian can just imagine the placating hand he must be raising to calm his younger brother back down.

“She’s just very good at her job,” Killian tries to explain. “I admire her.”

“Of course you do,” Liam replies soothingly. “And I know you don’t have any feelings for her, but just in case, tread carefully, alright? It’s not a particularly good idea to get involved with people you’re working closely with.”

“I will be,” Killian dutifully says, before hastening to add, “But it won’t be necessary, Liam. She’s just a friend.”

“Whatever you say, Killian,” Liam placates. “Call me in the morning when the alcohol wears off, aye? I’ll talk to you later.”

“Aye, brother, tomorrow.” There’s the usual exchange of affections to close out the call, and then Killian’s left to his own thoughts again, and still needing to find his way home.

Liam can say all he wants, but no matter how fascinating Killian finds Emma Swan, it’s nothing more than a platonic interest. Even if she is lovely and interesting and brilliant and absolutely someone he could have romantic feelings for.

———

It’s such a cliche to say that their interactions at the bar are the beginning of a beautiful friendship, but Emma thinks she and Jones - Killian, she could probably call him now - might be on their way there. Killian is easy to talk to, charming, funny, and apparently willing to participate in ridiculous romantic schemes in service of a friend. The professional part of Emma feels victorious that they apparently cast the perfect man to play their Mr. Darcy; the rest of her is left just wondering how he’s real. The man acts like something out of one of Mary Margaret’s awful romantic comedies, and Emma’s not sure what to do about it.

It doesn’t help that he seems especially determined to be a gentleman towards Emma in particular. He already does all the door holding and ‘ladies first’ nonsense, but he’s taken to helping Emma collect all the various and sundry things she lends out from her supply box over the course of a day and bringing her hot chocolate in the mornings. She’s not even sure how he knows about the hot chocolate thing; who knows, maybe she told him herself that night at the bar. Emma does get chatty when she gets tipsy, even if she doesn’t like to admit it. Regardless, he’s even figured out that she likes cinnamon on top, and presents the to-go cups each morning with a smile that is much brighter than Emma is properly prepared to see before noon.

They’re friends now, she supposes. That’s what Emma’s willing to admit to at least. Sure, she can easily see how that friendship could turn into something more if they both let it, but they work together. It would be such a bad idea - if not downright disastrous. Friendship is safe; friendship is something they can both handle. There’s absolutely no attraction and no feelings on either side.

Emma only hopes that if she repeats that mantra enough, the words will actually stay true.

#my writing #Playing the Part #Getting to Know You #cs ff #Broadway AU #actor!Killian #stage manager!Emma

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