Author: Just a fun little rockstar/actress AU written as a birthday present for my friend Jenna (captainswanismyendgame here and on Tumblr. Go follow!). Won't be super long, but will be a few chapters at least.

He finally answered when his phone started ringing for the fourth time, snatching it off the nightstand and taking a quick look at the name that popped up on the caller ID. He swiped angrily across the screen and hissed, "I am going to bloody kill you."

William Smee's voice, loud, wheedling, and most definitely not what Killian wanted to hear at four in the morning, practically burst his eardrum in response, "Oh sorry, I forgot about the time difference again, didn't I? But you said you wanted hear the second there was news, and have I got news for you, we got her!"

"What?"

He sat up in bed, the sheets slipping down to his waist, and pressed the phone tight to his ear, "Her? You mean?"

"Yup. The contract was just signed a few minutes ago. You've got yourself a princess to rescue, Captain. Emma Swan is going to star in your music video."

Annoyance forgotten, Killian rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and smiled, "Ah, Mr. Smee. Good work man, very good work."

Smee warned with a bit of hesitance, "We've still got problems with the schedule though. We pushed it back a week, that's as long as we can wait but she can't fly down until the 6th, so you'll have to film all the scenes without her first to have everything completed on time."

"We'll make it work," Killian said firmly, "Call the director and tell him it's a go, I know he was getting antsy about it."

"Aye, aye, Captain Jones!"

He grimaced, "Cool it with the nautical jokes, Smee."

Smee protested that he was just trying to help him get into character and they exchanged a few more words about what needed to be done to have everything ready for the upcoming shoot. They didn't talk long, Smee had many more calls to make in addition to phoning the director, more deals to be wrangled into place and details ironed out with the new filming schedule. Killian ended the call, dropping the phone back down on his nightstand with a thump. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, too keyed up to go back to sleep.

The large flat was dark and quiet as he padded down the hall towards the kitchen in bare feet and boxer shorts. He had bought it with royalties from Hook, it was all sleek and modern and expensive and he still felt a bit out of place living in it, like it wasn't really his and the real owner was going to show up at any minute and kick him out. The posh neighbourhood was a far cry from his old digs, the tiny, dodgy studio above a Chinese takeaway where he had lived while the band played pub gigs and uploaded videos to YouTube, waiting for their big break. Just him and Rob and Will, the three founding members of Crimson Flag. They had scraped by in the single room for years, Will on the couch and Killian on the futon, Rob biking over from his girlfriend Marion's place, working odd jobs during the day and staying up until the wee hours of the morning, writing songs together, rehearsing until the neighbours called the police about the noise, and dreaming of fame and fortune.

Honour Among Thieves was their first album after getting signed with a label. It had sold fairly well, they had toured Europe and America off it and were even nominated for some industry awards. But the second record, Hook, had really put them on the map. It was a breakup album, a chronicle of his whirlwind and ultimately doomed relationship with Milah, and from the ashes of his heartbreak and the pain they had sold millions of CDs and won three Grammys. On Hook's success the band toured the world for almost two years straight, a dizzying parade of stadium lights and cheering crowds. Sydney, Rio, Montreal, Los Angeles, all cities he had longed to visit when he was a boy and a new letter from Liam arrived in the post. In those two years he had filled his passport with more stamps than even his big brother had acquired in his tours with the Navy, and slowly started to heal from the wounds Milah had inflicted in her wake. Killian's shattered heart had put itself back together piece by piece across countries and continents, and he had picked up his notebook again after months of writer's block to work on new songs, filling the hours on long plane rides passing scribbled pages of lyrics back and forth with Will and strumming out melodies on his guitar in lonely hotel suites after their shows.

Thirteen brand new tracks they collectively named Dreams of Neverland was the result. It had already hit number one on iTunes just in presales, the label had high expectations that it would surpass Hook and was going all out on the video for the first single. The concept was a bit of a cheeky nod to Errol Flynn and Robert Louis Stevenson, a swashbuckling adventure with fearsome pirates and fair maidens. As the lead singer, Killian would play the pirate captain, who was sailing the high seas in search of his lady love, a beautiful princess kidnapped by his rival. Rob and Will would portray members of his motley crew, an actor he had never heard of named August Booth had been hired to play the rival captain, but when it came to casting the pivotal part of the princess, Killian had one woman and one woman only in mind.

Emma Swan.

Will had teased him mercilessly when her name had popped immediately out of his mouth in first the meeting about the video. His bandmate knew damn well just how much he fancied the beautiful American actress, had ever since he became totally addicted to her TV show, The Globe. It was a mashup of different characters from Shakespeare's plays all living together in the same town thanks to a curse cast by Prospero from The Tempest, Emma played the lead role of the adult daughter of fiction's most famous lovers, Romeo and Juliet. But unlike her star-crossed parents, her character was a cynic about love and romance. Killian had stumbled onto the show on a lark partway into season two and was immediately hooked, marathoning the first season in one very long weekend on Netflix and waiting impatiently on Sunday nights for each new episode to start.

"Havin' Emma Swan play your love interest in the video? Yeah, no one will ever see through that," Will had declared after the meeting with a knowing smirk.

"Why don't you keep your thoughts to yourself, mate," he retorted, punching Will playfully in the shoulder while Rob rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath.

Killian had thought it was no more than a pipe dream. But the label had liked the idea, they liked it a lot, having Emma in the video would generate advance buzz in the press and online. Her agent was contacted (a woman named Regina Mills, who had clearly terrified label rep William Smee during their meeting) and was interested as well, emails flew back and forth with scripts and storyboards and costume sketches. But the shooting dates were a problem, they conflicted with filming for The Globe. Killian had wanted to reschedule for when Emma would be free, but they had to have the video finished in time for the already set release date of the album and couldn't wait. It had seemed like it wasn't going to happen and they'd have to hire someone else, but Smee had promised to do all that he could to make it work and had obviously delivered.

He flipped on the overhead light in the kitchen and got a glass from a cabinet. As he filled it with water from the faucet he absent-mindedly drummed out a few bars of I Still Do on the marble countertop with his fingers. The first single from the album, it was a song he had written on his own without any input from Rob or Will. He had scratched it out slowly line by line on the night that he and Milah had once sworn in happier times would be their wedding day. Before she had left him and gone back to her husband and son, ripping his heart out in the process and leaving him bitter and angry and certain that love brought nothing but wasted years and endless torment.

A redheaded journalist had interviewed the band that day, he'd been in a bad mood from the memories that the date had dredged up and was more than a little drunk after spending some quality time with the hotel minibar. He was rude and belligerent and had sabotaged the interview to the point that she got fed up and lost her temper, actually slapping him right across the face. It had shocked the both of them and her flustered apology had been cut off by Will, who gave him a pointed look, "Don't say you're sorry, lass. The bastard deserved it, I was about ready to knock 'em on his arse myself."

Killian had slumped back down in his chair, his cheek throbbing from the blow and the fight going out of him at once, "Any more questions?" he asked quietly, feeling like a jerk.

"You've never said publicly who inspired Hook, but after that experience, does Killian Jones still believe in love?"

He'd been asked that before, many times, and had always given a flip, dismissive response. But staring at the redhead who was watching him with her eyebrows raised and her hand twitching slightly in her lap, the words just slipped out in an earnest rasp, "I still do."

There was a notation in the linear notes on Dreams, "And thanks to Ariel for knocking some damn sense back into this sorry bastard."

After polishing off the water he switched the kitchen light off again and went back into his bedroom, intending to try to go back to sleep. His phone was flashing, indicating a new voicemail or text had been received and he picked it up from the nightstand, squinting at the screen. It was a text notification from an unknown number and he thought about ignoring it for a second before shrugging and thumbing the message open. Might as well see who it was from.

Is this Killian Jones? This is Emma Swan.

He felt his stomach do a little flip at the words and he thanked his lucky stars as he quickly messaged back, This is Killian. I just heard the good news.

That guy from your label gave me your number and I wanted to say hi.

"Good work Smee," Killian whispered, taking back every murderous thought he'd ever had towards the man. He sat down on the edge of the bed and tapped out a reply on the screen, Well hello back, Emma Swan

There was a pause and then another text popped up, I love the song, BTW.

Regina Mills had been given an advance copy of the CD so Emma could listen to it, not wanting to commit her client to the part without actually hearing I Still Do first.

Thanks. I love The Globe. Looking forward to working with you.

She answered quickly, Me too. Aruba should be fun - and better weather than Vancouver rain, hopefully.

The video was being filmed on location in the Caribbean isle. They could have done it in a studio in London with green screens and CGI, but the band had taken a vote and the prospect of a mini-holiday with sun and sand had won out, three to zero. He texted his agreement with a comment about the dreary English weather they'd been experiencing for the past few weeks.

Killian wondered briefly if Emma might be packing a few...tropical outfits for the trip, they wouldn't be filming twenty four hours a day after all and there was downtime scheduled for relaxing on the beach. He shifted a bit as his lower anatomy started to stir at the thought of string bikinis and tan lines. But he didn't ask, he was a gentleman (even though he heard Will snorting with derision in his head at the idea). They exchanged a few more pleasantries before Emma texted that she was being called to set and had to go, and he gleefully added her number to his contacts. Not five seconds later the phone vibrated in his hand and Will Scarlet's face filled the screen.

"That wanker Smee woke me up, so I'm waking you up."

Will sounded hungover (he probably was), annoyed (ditto), and Killian grinned into the phone, "Wake me up? Mate, I've been up for hours. Nothing like some morning yoga to get the blood flowing and the synapses firing. Namaste."

"Bloody hell, yoga? Oh, wait. He rang you first, didn't he?"

"Aye."

"Did he wake you up, at least?" Will demanded.

"Aye."

His friend and bandmate grunted. Will was the bass player and sang backing vocals to Killian's lead. They traded a few insults back and forth, "Were you at least passed out in your own bed, Will? Or are you calling me from a pub loo?" "Piss off, Jones," until Will finally said, "So. Your cunning plan worked then. Emma Swan."

He tried to sound casual and failed miserably, "She just fit the role."

Will gave an incredulous laugh, "You've been drooling after her for months. Fit the role my arse. This whole heaving bosoms and walking the plank thing was your idea."

Killian had...suggested it to the director. But how was he to know the man's favourite childhood book was Treasure Island and he'd leap at the chance to do an homage to eyepatches and peg legs? Not that Killian was going to don either, but he had seen the sketch of Will's costume. It included a parrot. Will was still unaware and Killian was looking forward to his reaction immensely.

"She texted me," he blurted out, feeling like a damn schoolboy.

Will's tone sharpened with interest, "What do you mean she texted you?"

"Smee gave Emma my number. She texted that she loves the song."

"Every bloody woman on the planet is going to love that song. But that means more dosh in my pocket, which is why I'm going along with your ridiculous Jack Sparrow role playing without complaint."

"I'm sorry, did you say without complaint?" Killian shot back. He couldn't wait until Scarlet got a load of his costume. Emma Swan would be able to hear the complaining all the way on The Globe's set in Vancouver.

Will bitched some more and they traded good natured barbs that didn't carry any actual bite, until his friend finally hung up the phone with a parting remark of, "Yeah, well if you cock this up then we'll probably get another platinum record out of it, so there's an upside."

That one stung. While he did bear some responsibility for what happened with Milah it wasn't like it was entirely his fault, she was the one who had come onto him first and sworn that her marriage was over even though she hadn't actually filed for divorce. After that disaster he'd sworn off relationships, indulging in a string of one night stands and brief meaningless flings that had given him a bit of a reputation in the tabloids as a heartless man-whore. Which wasn't necessarily a bad thing for a rock star but he was getting a bit tired of it. Milah had made her choice, and it was long past time for him to let go. The bitterness and anger of Hook was behind him, Dreams of Neverland was about moving on and looking to the future.

His future...that now included Emma Swan.

Killian Jones still believed in love.