Happy Friday Guy
It began quite by accident. After one too many rums down in The Village on Thursday night, Killian Jones struck up a (far too drunken) conversation with his best mate, David Nolan on the way back to the off-campus apartment they shared.
"No way, mate!" Killian slurred. "No way you'll get off your sorry arse and pursue the lovely Mary Margaret. I'll be forced to endure your pining for the rest of eternity."
"I'll have you know," David said, staggering slightly, "that my arse is anything but sorry! And as far as Mary Margaret goes, I'll ask her out the next time I see her, or my name's not Navid Dolan!"
"Uh-huh," Killian hummed in amusement. His mate couldn't hold his liquor worth a damn. He really was a danger to himself. "Sure you will. I'll believe it when I see it."
"Damn straight you will," David said, nodding vigorously. "I'll show you!"
"Um-hm," Killian hummed again.
"Wanna make a bet?" David asked.
"Why not, mate?" Killian answered. "What did you have in mind?"
David shot him look. "If I haven't secured a date with Mary Margaret by noon tomorrow, I'll pay your rent for six months."
"And if you do succeed, what debt must I pay?"
David grinned. "If I succeed, you dress up like a pirate—complete with coat and hook—and run through campus wishing everyone a happy Friday. You gotta do this at least six weeks in a row!"
Figuring David was drunk enough he wouldn't remember the conversation come the morning, Killian agreed to the terms.
And so, the next day, when his mate smugly approached him with a glowing Mary Margaret on his arm, Happy Friday Guy was born.
As superhero origin stories go, he supposed it could have been worse.
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It was during his second Friday as his alter ego that he first saw her. She sat by the fountain in the center of campus, her luscious blonde hair blowing in the slight breeze as she read from a ponderous text book.
She was the most beautiful creature on earth, and Killian was more than a little smitten from the first time he laid eyes on her.
He'd skidded to a stop before her, spread his arms wide and belted out "Happy Friday, lass!"
The blonde angel looked up and shot him a glare that could have curdled milk. "Yeah," she said, "not really in the mood for psychos today. Go annoy someone else."
"You wound me, love," he said, dramatically clutching at his chest.
There was that glare again. "Not nearly as much as I'm going to wound you if you don't go the hell away."
He tumbled the rest of the way in love.
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He found her in the same place on the third Friday.
"Be still my heart," he said dramatically, stopping before her, both hands coming to cover his chest. "How could a man have anything but a happy Friday with such ethereal beauty covering the earth?"
She rolled her eyes, but Killian saw the corners of her mouth tick up.
"Not really into pirates 'Happy Friday Guy'," she said, heroically attempting to look stern. "You might try that giggly group of airheads heading toward the student center."
"Are you always this pleasant, love, or is your ire reserved for Fridays?" he asked.
"Are you always this annoying or is it just because your leather pants are too tight?" she smirked.
He gave her a look as suggestive as hell. "You're welcome to ascertain just how tight my pants are, love."
He made a hasty exit, her sputters of outrage a pleasant accompaniment to his laughter.
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If he didn't know better, he'd swear she was waiting for him on the fourth Friday. She sat at her accustomed spot, ever present book in hand, but her eyes seemed to scan her surroundings far more than the words on the page.
Killian slid onto the park bench beside her. "Good book, love?"
"Shakespeare," she said.
"Ah, the bard himself," he said, slyly draping his arm across her shoulders.
She reached up and pushed it away. "Don't you have a group of freshmen to scare or something?"
"I've finished my philanthropic work for the day. For the foreseeable future, I'm all yours."
"Do you ever run out of lines, Happy Friday Guy?" she asked, smiling in spite of herself.
He shrugged. "Never have yet. Of course, if you'd agree to have dinner with me tonight, I wouldn't have to try nearly so hard."
She laughed. "Keep dreaming, pirate. You got a name besides Happy Friday Guy?"
"Killian Jones," he said, extending his hand, "and who might I have the pleasure of addressing?"
She gave him a long, assessing look then finally shook his hand. "Emma Swan."
"Swan," he breathed. "Suits you. Well, Swan, how about that date?"
She laughed again. "Yeah...I think not."
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He decided to really make a splash on the fifth Friday, arriving bright and early, a single, long-stemmed red rose in hand.
"But soft!" he said, dropping to a knee. "What light on yonder park bench sits? It is the east, and Emma Swan is the sun."
She laughed. "Get up, you idiot!"
"As you wish," he said, presenting the rose and taking his seat beside her. She brought the flower to her nose, and Killian would swear he saw a blush on her cheeks.
"Why me?" Emma said after a moment, turning serious eyes toward him. "Why do you single me out every week?"
Killian reached out and tangled his fingers in her hair. "You're the most captivating woman I've ever had the pleasure to meet," he said gently. "At first I merely sought to brighten your day, but now....well, now I'm fairly certain a Friday without you would lose every bit of its allure."
She leaned in and softly kissed him.
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On the sixth Friday she asked him out. They lived happily ever afterwards
DISCLAIMER: i dont know the original writer :)
