Living Just to Find Emotion (G, Will/Emma)
Title: Living Just to Find Emotion
Pairing: Will/Emma
Rating: G
Notes: For the incredibly patient
folie_lex. :) (And OF COURSE the title is from Journey. Hee.)
5.
Her bookshelf is organized alphabetically. It starts with Alcott and it ends with Wordsworth and on the third shelf from the bottom, in between Machiavelli and Milton, are two copies (one absolutely pristine and one bearing telltale cracks of being overly handled) of Of Human Bondage.
Emma delicately plucks the book off of her shelf and the pages crinkle under her fingers.
1.
“It’s my favourite book. Read it every night all through freshman year in college, that exact copy. I thought you might like it.”
She purses her lips together and looks at the creases on the front cover. Her thumb brushes over one frayed corner and she looks up at him with a slow smile. She’s never gotten a birthday present from a co-worker before and she’s not entirely sure what she’s supposed to say. And what she wants to say is that other than every book by Jane Austen and maybe Great Expectations, it’s her favourite book too. And she wants to say it’s absolutely perfect. And she wants to say “marry me” and she wants to say about a million other things that aren’t even close to appropriate.
Of course what she ends up saying is: “Oh. Thank you.”
Will looks back at her, kind of unsure; his forehead and mouth creased and pinched and his hands tucked awkwardly in his jacket pockets.
“Or maybe you might not like it?” he asks.
“No, no.” She presses the book tightly to her chest and gives a big smile. “I love it. It’s great.”
4.
The sky is cloudy and gray the day that Will tells her that he’s quitting teaching to become an accountant and have a happy and perfect little family.
Emma decides that she likes the symbolism.
3.
She wonders how the good deed of scraping gum off the bottom of her shoe can possibly be construed into hours of fantasizing. And she wonders just exactly why she can’t stop thinking of the press of his fingertips on her bare skin, the hot and heavy and steady feel of his hand curled around her calf, and the soft touch of his thumb to the start of her ankle.
And then she realizes that she can’t remember the last time she let anyone touch her.
2.
Emma’s sitting in the staffroom with a book open on her lap and an even stack of Tupperware in front of her. She’s halfway through her ham on rye when something skitters across the table. It’s a Peter Paul and Mary cassette tape. She didn’t even know they still made cassette tapes. She picks it up (cautiously, after wiping it off with her napkin and then wiping her hands off with sanitizer) and wrinkles her nose as she examines it.
Will is sitting across from her, a grin on his mouth.
“Mood music,” he says.
She hums a little. “For what?”
He points to the book that she’s reading. “You’ve had your nose in Kerouac all week.”
“I see,” she says. She smiles and turns the tape over, reading the track listing printed on the back. “And?”
“And,” he says, grin growing wider, “it’s Album 1700. Late sixties, great stuff.”
“Thank you, Will.”
6.
School’s out when he knocks on her office door and sticks his head through the small crack between the door and doorway.
“Emma, hey, you got a second?”
She nods and adjusts her posture to show that she’s listening, back straight and her hands neatly folded on top of her desk, her head tilted to one side. She does the same thing with her students.
“I just wanted to know if you wanted to chaperone another glee club field trip with me.” He leans himself against the end of her desk and crosses his arms over his chest and gives her a hopeful look. “Next Thursday in the afternoon?”
“Next Thursday?” she repeats. “But, next Thursday you’ll-”
“Still be here,” he supplies.
“Oh,” she says. She pauses to smile, then clears her throat and says, “Sure. I’d love to.”
“That’s great!”
Emma looks out the window and sees that the sun is shining and decides that she likes the symbolism.
Pairing: Will/Emma
Rating: G
Notes: For the incredibly patient
folie_lex. :) (And OF COURSE the title is from Journey. Hee.)
5.
Her bookshelf is organized alphabetically. It starts with Alcott and it ends with Wordsworth and on the third shelf from the bottom, in between Machiavelli and Milton, are two copies (one absolutely pristine and one bearing telltale cracks of being overly handled) of Of Human Bondage.
Emma delicately plucks the book off of her shelf and the pages crinkle under her fingers.
1.
“It’s my favourite book. Read it every night all through freshman year in college, that exact copy. I thought you might like it.”
She purses her lips together and looks at the creases on the front cover. Her thumb brushes over one frayed corner and she looks up at him with a slow smile. She’s never gotten a birthday present from a co-worker before and she’s not entirely sure what she’s supposed to say. And what she wants to say is that other than every book by Jane Austen and maybe Great Expectations, it’s her favourite book too. And she wants to say it’s absolutely perfect. And she wants to say “marry me” and she wants to say about a million other things that aren’t even close to appropriate.
Of course what she ends up saying is: “Oh. Thank you.”
Will looks back at her, kind of unsure; his forehead and mouth creased and pinched and his hands tucked awkwardly in his jacket pockets.
“Or maybe you might not like it?” he asks.
“No, no.” She presses the book tightly to her chest and gives a big smile. “I love it. It’s great.”
4.
The sky is cloudy and gray the day that Will tells her that he’s quitting teaching to become an accountant and have a happy and perfect little family.
Emma decides that she likes the symbolism.
3.
She wonders how the good deed of scraping gum off the bottom of her shoe can possibly be construed into hours of fantasizing. And she wonders just exactly why she can’t stop thinking of the press of his fingertips on her bare skin, the hot and heavy and steady feel of his hand curled around her calf, and the soft touch of his thumb to the start of her ankle.
And then she realizes that she can’t remember the last time she let anyone touch her.
2.
Emma’s sitting in the staffroom with a book open on her lap and an even stack of Tupperware in front of her. She’s halfway through her ham on rye when something skitters across the table. It’s a Peter Paul and Mary cassette tape. She didn’t even know they still made cassette tapes. She picks it up (cautiously, after wiping it off with her napkin and then wiping her hands off with sanitizer) and wrinkles her nose as she examines it.
Will is sitting across from her, a grin on his mouth.
“Mood music,” he says.
She hums a little. “For what?”
He points to the book that she’s reading. “You’ve had your nose in Kerouac all week.”
“I see,” she says. She smiles and turns the tape over, reading the track listing printed on the back. “And?”
“And,” he says, grin growing wider, “it’s Album 1700. Late sixties, great stuff.”
“Thank you, Will.”
6.
School’s out when he knocks on her office door and sticks his head through the small crack between the door and doorway.
“Emma, hey, you got a second?”
She nods and adjusts her posture to show that she’s listening, back straight and her hands neatly folded on top of her desk, her head tilted to one side. She does the same thing with her students.
“I just wanted to know if you wanted to chaperone another glee club field trip with me.” He leans himself against the end of her desk and crosses his arms over his chest and gives her a hopeful look. “Next Thursday in the afternoon?”
“Next Thursday?” she repeats. “But, next Thursday you’ll-”
“Still be here,” he supplies.
“Oh,” she says. She pauses to smile, then clears her throat and says, “Sure. I’d love to.”
“That’s great!”
Emma looks out the window and sees that the sun is shining and decides that she likes the symbolism.