Summary: Granny’s restaurant is the perfect place for a romantic dinner. The only problem is that Killian doesn’t want to be on this date in the first place. And Emma definitely doesn’t want to be taken off her waitressing shift to be the saviour of this guy who’s definitely been stood up. A Captain Swan Modern AU for the Captain Swan Little Bang 2017.
A/N: I’m so excited to be posting this fic as my first contribution to the Captain Swan Little Bang! Huge thanks to my wonderful beta @distant-rose for her enormous help in cutting up my ridiculously long sentences. @bleebug is also an absolute star and has created some gorgeous artwork for this fic that I’m in love with. Go and reblog from her tumblr post too!
Massive thanks also go to the whole CSLB team for being absolutely lovely and organising this whole event. And finally, thanks to James Arthur for writing the song that vaguely inspired the plot and the title. I’ve had a blast, and I hope everyone enjoys this fic!
I’ll Thank My Lucky Stars
Killian was already in a bad mood by the time he got to the restaurant. The blustery autumn weather they’d been experiencing had recently developed into scattered showers that seemed to always time themselves perfectly with when he was leaving the house, meaning his feet had already been soaked twice today and even the umbrella he was carrying had put minimal effort into protecting his hair.
Sheltering just inside the doorway, he shook the umbrella into the street before closing it and running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to counteract the way the rain had flattened it to his head. At least he wasn’t late, he reasoned, turning to face the server’s stand for the first time. Besides, it probably didn’t matter how he looked considering that he hadn’t exactly been enthusiastic about this date in the first place. But of course, Belle had been insistent (“She’s a really lovely person, Killian.”) and he was an idiot who couldn’t say no to his best friend, and that’s how he’d ended up at this particular fancy restaurant on the first date he’d been on in three years, and feeling like he was about to throw up.
“Table for Jones?” he asked, when he realised he’d been loitering in the entrance for an unreasonable amount of time and the server behind the podium seemed to be getting a little irate, twiddling her long, red nails around her dark hair. He found himself being steered towards the window and seated at a little table with a candle – the whole place screaming romantic date in his uncomfortable face. Sighing, he nodded at the server – Ruby, her name badge said – and busied himself with staring at the drinks menu. It was probably unacceptable to order several shots of rum before his date arrived, right? Speaking of which, it was now fifteen minutes past the hour and no sign of said date. Another ten passed before Ruby returned again.
It All Starts With a Dance 