La Jeunesse Triomphante
Author: Alsike
Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds x-over
Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss
Rating: NC-17 (not this one, just generally)
AN/Disclaimer: Not my girls.
Word Count: ~3000
Summary: Elizabeth is having a party in Philly. Emily has to go.
Apologies: So, I never planned to write anything else in the Danny Zuko universe, the story was done, finished, complete. But I was chatting with someone after the IDF Con, and the whole idea of Emma and Emily having to go to the Ambassador’s parties was thrown around, and I wanted it to be these two. It got written. It may be horrendously fluffy. I’m sorry.
Danny Zuko Masterpost - if you need a refresher.
“Are you serious? You mean I really have to go to this?” Emma whined and flopped onto their bed. “I had a meet today. I’m tired.”
Emily bent over her and rubbed her lotion-packed finger across the line of sunburn that touched the tops of her cheek and ran over her nose. The lotion streaked it white. It would probably freckle soon, but now it was a pink glow, and Emma wrinkled her nose while Emily rubbed it in. “You were coaching at a meet. Why are you tired?”
“Wouldn’t you be tired from standing in the sun yelling at little brats who are too lazy to get back for the return all day?” Emma pouted. “And you want to take me to one of your mom’s parties?” Her eyes slid to the side. “What if my dad’s there?”
“He won’t be. I asked. He wasn’t invited.” Emily brushed a stray silky lock of hair out of Emma’s face and kissed her lightly on the forehead. “My mother’s made it clear that if I don’t show up I clearly don’t love her anymore and she will never forgive me. It’s not like she has parties in Philly on a regular basis. And I hate these parties. I don’t want to go alone.”
Emma smirked up at her. “Well, if you want me to be your knight…”
Emily shook her head and got up to find herself a dress.
“You know,” Emma said. She had propped herself up on her elbows and was watching Emily with that proprietary look that Emily had almost gotten used to. (Casey always grimaced when she saw it, but it was her own fault for just walking in when no one answered the door. Admittedly, she had come over to make sure Emily was all right, since she had dropped her off with a head injury the night before. Emily had been fine. She had also been on the sideboard with Emma between her legs, kissing her, a hand moving briskly towards third base.) “The first time you kissed me it was at one of these type of parties.”
“Yeah, it was.” At the time it wasn’t something she was proud of, and the circumstances had been less than ideal, but there was no way she would regret it now.
“You were totally drunk too. I suppose it’s my duty to come, at least to make sure you don’t get completely blitzed, or if you do, make sure that you don’t snog someone random.” Emma grinned. “If you kiss anyone at this party, it had better be me.”
* * *
“If we’re taking the subway I’m not wearing these shoes.”
“It’s a bit off the line. I can drive.”
Emma shook her head. “I’ll drive.” She snagged the keys out of her hand. “You can drink.”
The party was being held in the Rodin Museum. The parking was inconvenient and when they stepped out Emma smirked at the sight of all the Benzes and Nissans, and the little green Volkswagen hatchback parked in the middle of them. She reached out and took Emily’s arm, then glanced down at her, the black dress and vast expanse of leg that stretched out beneath the hem. “You look nice.” She considered it. “I would have gone with the fishnets though.”
Emily gave her a look. “Yes, because wearing fishnets to one of the Ambassador’s parties is really appropriate.”
“You could start a trend. You wore them to the teacher’s social at my school.”
“Only because you didn’t tell me where we were going! You made me think we were going clubbing!”
“You were the sexiest person there.”
“I had to talk to your boss. And Old Mrs. Finshell, who kept on asking me what it was like to be a hooker.”
“Oh, that wasn’t because of the fishnets. She’s so nearsighted I’m pretty sure she thought they were just charcoal nylons. I told her you were the hooker I had picked up for the night.”
“Emma!”
Emma grinned. “Mr. Morgan’s been begging me for your number ever since, but I let him know you were out of his price range.”
Emily narrowed her eyes. “Honestly.”
Emma squeezed her arm. “Honestly? Enough people have seen you at tennis meets and picking me up after practice that I get asked if we’re married. I let them know that we’re living in sin, but once your divorce from Rusty the trucker comes in, I’m going to whisk you off to Canada and make you mine.”
“You’re so sweet.”
“I know.” Emma cast her a sly, self-satisfied glance, and Emily couldn’t help but smile.
* * *
“Emma’s telling people that you found her in a box outside of your apartment and decided to keep her as a pet.”
Emily laughed. “It isn’t true. I found her inside my apartment, and I kept her so she could make me coffee.”
“Emily,” her mother scolded. “This isn’t funny. God knows what people are thinking.”
“Emma only lies about everything when she’s in a good mood. I’m pretty sure most people know she’s joking.”
“She’s introducing herself as being attached to me.”
Emily looked at her. “As your daughter’s pet?”
“As if as my daughter’s live in lover would be any better! Lord! Some day you’re going to have to get over your stupid, teenage crush, Emily!”
Emily stiffened. How was it possible that she still didn’t understand? “I spent ten years looking for someone else, anyone else, and I was miserable. I’m done. She’s it. And I’m not a teenager. Please, get used to that.”
Fights you weren’t supposed to have at small formal parties always echoed. There were always people watching, waiting to sidle up to the Ambassador, offer condolences, slyly insinuate threats. Emily knew that it was her fault, at least partly, for not taking her complaints about Emma’s tall tales seriously. But she was tired of feeling like her mother was angry at her, angry at her for being happy. And she was going to be happy, in her face if she had to.
She caught up to Emma by The Kiss, slipped up behind her and touched her waist. “And is my darling Momo enjoying the party?”
Emma glanced over to see her and laughed. “It’s all right. I’m making my own entertainment.”
“I heard.”
“Your mother’s not pleased?”
“I don’t care.” Emily leaned her forehead against Emma’s. “Your freckles have come out.”
Emma closed her eyes, breathing her in. “You know, these statues are turning me on.”
“If I took you against the wall, we’d never been invited again.”
“And that would be a bad thing?” Emma looked at her, a lazy half smile lightening her face. “You’re all red.”
If anything Emily felt sure she got redder. “Just… visualizing.”
Emma turned in her arms, glancing at a few of the statues. “I like it here. It reminds me of Paris.”
“You were happy there?”
“I was…” Emma’s smile was a resigned one, but her eyes were warm. “I was determined. I liked it there. I would have liked it better if you visited me more often.”
“Emily Prentiss?” Emily turned to see a graying woman in a skirt-suit smiled and offer her hand. Emily tried not to wince. She ought to know this person. “How nice it is to see you.”
Then a photo in the newspaper clicked and Emily shook. “Hello Senator.”
Senator Riker’s eyes flicked to Emma. There was clear curiosity in them, but of course, seeing anyone standing that close to the host’s daughter would inspire curiosity. “A friend?”
It wasn’t worth prevarication. “My girlfriend, Emma.”
Stiffly, Emma shook the Senator’s hand. Her expression was more pinched than Emily expected, and she wondered if she should make excuses.
“And what do you do?”
“I teach high school,” Emma said, with a forcedly casual carelessness.
Senator Riker’s shoulders lifted and pulled back, the rictus of her constituency smile marring her face. “Oh, that’s nice.” The expression suggested something more like, “Oh, how pedestrian. Clearly you couldn’t do any better.” “It’s so good to know that people are looking after the future generations.”
Emma knocked Emily’s shoulder as she tried to repress a laugh.
“How are things at the ACLU, Emily?”
Emily smiled. “Well, it’s been busy. That new law… You know, the Cather Bill, I think you helped sponsor it? It’s brought a lot more cases in, since it’s really sanctioning a human rights violation.”
…
“That was bitter,” Emma said, when the senator had made her excuses and fled.
“She deserved it, for the way she looked at you.”
Emma laughed. “I thought maybe the sanctioning human rights abuses would be more of a reason.”
“That’s work. We’ll blast her for it in the press.” Emily cupped her shoulder. “Are you getting that a lot?”
Emma kissed her cheek. “It was actually much more restrained with you here. A few of the reactions I got suggested teaching high school was unfavorably comparable to being in prison.”
“It’s not like half these people haven’t been sentenced, though they don’t actually serve.”
“You’re so jaded. It’s very sexy.”
Emily smiled and leaned in to bump their foreheads together. “You’re really okay?”
“I don’t mind it. I don’t want to be part of this world. I don’t give a damn about what they think of me.”
“I don’t belong here anymore either. If I was a lawyer, maybe, but I’m a translator, I speak for the really poor, really weak, the disenfranchised. Those aren’t the voices Senator Riker wants to hear.”
Emma smiled. “You can kick all their asses. We’re better than them, anyways.”
* * *
“You said he wouldn’t be here.”
Emily tensed. Emma’s fingers were pressing deeply into her arm, and she followed her gaze to the tall broad-shouldered man with grey hair who had just arrived on an unfamiliar woman’s arm. “Shit. I’m sorry. We can go.” Emily tugged her towards the door, but the woman caught them, cornering them on the other side of the Burghers of Calais.
“Emily! Emily Prentiss. I haven’t seen you for so long. Not since you were a big-eyed little girl in Cairo, and you look just the same.” It was one of her mother’s diplomatic acquaintances. Winston Frost was standing at the woman’s elbow, his eyes distant and cold, not even looking at them.
“I’m sorry,” Emily said. “We-”
But the woman cut off her excuses. “Winston,” she said. “This is Emily Prentiss, the ambassador’s daughter, and this must be…” She looked at Emma, at their entwined arms. “Why-”
“I had heard poor Elizabeth’s daughter had taken up with some nameless slut,” Winston said, his eyes looking right through Emma, not even registering her, not giving her an existence.
“It’s Emma,” Emily said stiffly, her words hardly able to surmount her anger. She wrapped her arm around Emma’s waist. “This is Emma,” she said to the woman who had known her in Cairo. “It was very nice to see you again.”
She could feel Emma shaking in her arms, shaking with misery and distress. Emily moved to pull her away, but a hand landed on her shoulder. It was her mother. Elizabeth’s eyes fell on Emma, still pale and shaking, and then she turned to Winston and his date.
“I’m sorry Melena, but Winston, you are not welcome here.”
The woman gaped.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Elizabeth. Your company was once worth keeping, before you opened it up to deviants and strays.”
“If you insult my daughter or her girlfriend one more time, I will have you removed by my security.”
“I can see when I’m not wanted.” He sneered at Elizabeth and his eyes flicked to Emily. “If you want the bitch, I wish you joy of her. She is none of mine,” he said. Then he spun and strode towards the door.
“Emma,” Elizabeth turned to her, reached out her hand to cup her arm. “Are you all right, dear?”
Emily held her and they moved awkwardly towards a bench.
“I’m so sorry. He wasn’t invited.”
Emma just looked at her. “You sent him away.”
“Of course I did, you were as white as a ghost. But what happened? Did you have a falling out?”
Emma laughed. “Why do you think I disappeared off to France for three years? I told him I was a faggot and left the country. He told me he would rather have me dead than have anyone know I was his daughter.”
“You never came to me,” Emily said, her voice sad.
“I didn’t want to run away to you.” Emma shook her head. “I didn’t want you to save me, not again, not every time I needed to be saved.”
They were looking at each other in a long pathetic way, and Elizabeth was thinking furiously.
“You should get married,” she said firmly. Both girls turned and blinked at her. “You wouldn’t have to be a Frost anymore. You shouldn’t have to be linked to him if you don’t want to be.” She shook her head. “Not that he has the right to take your name away from you. But still…”
Emily stared at her mother. “You want us to get married?”
Elizabeth noticed their shocked faces, and found herself blushing. “I…”
“Emily,” Emma tugged on her wrist. “Can you get me something to drink?”
“But…” Emily looked around, twigged, and then nodded, and headed off.
Emma stared at the ambassador, gaze narrow. “You hate me.”
“I’ve never hated you.”
Emma shook her head. “But you really don’t like me. You never have. You have always tried to convince Emily she was making a mistake with me. So what is this? Do you pity me now? I don’t want your pity.”
There was something fierce in her face, but it wasn’t as fierce or as bitter as the savage girl who had lashed out before she could be hurt. Perhaps her daughter had softened her, and she knew now that the man she had called a friend had hardened her.
“Fine,” Elizabeth said with a sigh. “I never liked you. But you have to know, that to me, you’re always going to be the first thing Emily openly disobeyed me for. You were the unsafe choice, the risky behavior, the vicious little girl who tried to blackmail me when I caught you two in bed together. But you needed her, and she wasn’t going to let you down, no matter what I said about it.”
Emma flinched, looking away.
“And I was certain you were using her. I have no patience for needy people. Even the ones who are honestly needy are manipulative, and I knew you were manipulating her. I can’t say it helped when I found out that you had moved yourself into her house. But I didn’t realize that you had to give something up to be with her. I thought you didn’t lose anything in the bargain.”
“I didn’t,” Emma said. “I didn’t lose anything I cared about.”
Elizabeth’s lips quirked up. “Well then. I can’t say you’re my favorite person, since you’re incessantly abrasive and a habitual liar, but I’ll trust you with my daughter, for now. Don’t make me a fool, Emma. I don’t like being made a fool of.”
Emma stared at her for a long time. And then she nodded. “Okay.” She smiled. “I’m better about it if you still don’t like me. It would be too much to take if you suddenly did.”
“You thrive on people’s ire.”
Emma nodded. “And Emily makes me nice. I don't like being nice.”
“Then why are you with her?”
“Emily’s… she’s the only one.” Elizabeth blinked. “The only one I want.” Emma shrugged, shaking her head and smiling slightly. “I’ve known it since, well, since the fourth of July when I was fourteen, and Emily punched me in the face, under the fireworks, for kissing a boy, and then told me we were friends.”
“She did what?”
Emily came back just then with glasses of water for everyone.
“Emily! You can’t just punch girls in the face! Honestly!”
“What?” Thrown, Emily looked around and nearly dropped everything. “What are you talking about?”
“Emma says you hit her!”
“When?”
“Fireworks,” Emma clarified, clearly trying not to laugh.
“Mother!” Emily was wide-eyed. “It was twelve years ago! We’ve gotten past it. And anyway, she had slapped me a couple of days before.”
“A slap is not a punch! You do not punch people, particularly not for kissing boys!”
Emily gaped. Emma just laughed. “It’s okay, really. She hasn’t raised a hand to me since.”
“I had better not hear of anything of the kind.”
“You won’t.” Emma reached up to take one of the glasses, and then tugged Emily down to sit. She curled an arm around her neck and pulled her in for a kiss. Emily’s free hand closed on her hip as their lips met, and Elizabeth watched. She had never watched before, not since the kiss she had hoped was their last, at five a.m. before a long flight, with two slender, gangly girls, being strong, being confident, with a firm, sweet, polite kiss, a promise, she realized now. A promise kept. And this kiss was decidedly not polite.
“Girls! Girls! There is no kissing with tongue in the Rodin Museum!”
They broke it off, in their own time.
“Do you want to come over for dinner tomorrow night?” Emily asked.
Elizabeth looked at her. Before, she had come and stayed, she had gone out and bought real food, and complained about the furnishings, and made sure it was clean. “You’re inviting me?”
“Yes. We’re inviting you.” Emily ducked her head. “I want to spend time with you, but not here. I don’t want to spend time with the ambassador. We’re not part of this world anymore, and it’s not fair for you to make us show up and conform to it. If we come to DC, we’ll come to see you, and if you come here, you come to see us.”
Her little girl was growing up, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Elizabeth smiled. “I’d love to come. Thank you.”
* * *
“You know you invited your mother over for dinner.”
“I was there.”
“Is this going to be a thing? Are we going to be hosting holidays, and that sort of shit? Because I really don’t think I want my family being a part of it.”
Emily laughed. “But can’t you see it? You and me, and my mother, and Cordelia and Selene, and Christian and his boyfriend, and Adrienne and Steve and their three vile little brats, and maybe-”
“Oh Christ, please stop! I’m taking you to Europe for Christmas, or maybe Brazil.”
“South Africa?”
“Anywhere you want,” Emma grinned. “Everywhere you want. Hostels, and all the shitty little restaurants you can imagine.”
“I’ll carry your bags.”
Emma bit her lip and smiled. “I love you.”
“I know.” Emily took the keys and opened the door for her. “I love you too.”