Fake Empire: Rhiannon 2/2
Title: Fake Empire: Rhiannon 2/2 (There may be an epilogue to this.)
Pairing: Emma/Emily
Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds
Rating: Um, I'm pretty sure this part is PG-13.
Universe: Fake Empire
Apologies: There are mysterious occurrences in this one. And Henry. :) I won't explain.
Getting kidnapped by the Hellfire Club hadn’t done much for her teaching schedule, and the X-Men gossiped like housewives, so when Emma took a leave of absence for the following semester, there wasn’t a single adult in the entire complex that didn’t know what had happened and wasn’t talking about it. Ororo kept giving her threatening looks, and Jean kept popping in, bringing drinks and snacks that were supposed to be nutritious and healthy. Emma was considering murdering her, and probably would have if she hadn’t known she’d end up a sock full of diamond dust if she tried.
When spring was finally over, Emma was thanking every deity she could imagine that she was getting the hell out of there.
She and Emily had worked out a plan. Emma would have her own room where she could be sick and angry and hate everyone without having to deal with other people. Well, that was what she claimed it was for, in reality, it was so she could have a place to go if she was going to cry. She had cried far more than was normal in the past few months (any crying was more crying than normal) and she had nearly broken down in front of her class once.
It was humiliating. And it was Emily’s fault.
When she got to DC everything got worse.
It was supposed to be comfortable. With Emily, it always had been (a little too comfortable to be honest) but now it wasn’t. Now it was tense and upsetting and miserable. Emily kept on looking at her, and she felt disgusting. She wouldn’t let her touch her either, and that, her being so close and making her stay away, just made her feel worse.
Emma felt like crap all the time now. She hated being pregnant, hated every moment of it. She slammed doors in Emily’s face, hissed at Jubilee, threatened to tread on Didi if she got in her way. (Didi’s fear just made her feel even more fat and horrible.)
She wanted this to end, and she would mark Xs on the days that passed.
She read about Matriphagal bugs, and had nightmares about being eaten from the inside. She hated Emily for doing this to her, even if it wasn’t entirely her fault. And she planned horrific tortures the members of the new Hellfire Club, because she would never forgive them for this.
Then she hated herself and went into her room to cry.
* * *
“I just don’t know what to do with her,” Emily said quietly. “She’s been in a black mood since she got here. She won’t talk to me, she won’t even look at me. I feel like I fucked this up somehow, but I don’t know what I should have done.”
“She’s being a bitch to you,” JJ snapped. “She’s always a bitch. Tell her to cut it out.”
Emily looked away. Henry was standing in the entryway looking nervous. “Hey buddy. Didi went off with Jubilee to go shopping,” she bit her lip in a gesture that JJ read clearly as ‘to get away from the hell that is this house right now,’ “I’m sorry she’s not here.”
Henry didn’t move. JJ gave him a push. “Go be useful somewhere.” He started towards Didi’s room and JJ turned back to Emily. “What are you thinking? I don’t like the expression on your face. Emma being a bitch isn’t your fault.”
“Not usually.”
JJ covered her face. “I’m not going to ask about how you got her pregnant. I’m just… not. I know I won’t be able to take the answer. But mood swings, whatever, it shouldn’t be this bad.”
“Why shouldn’t it? I’ve wrecked her life. She never wanted this. I took her away from everything that means something to her, her job, her calling. If it had been me, leaving the team…”
“She’s not dead! You knocked her up in March and it’s already the end of June. It will be over in six months!”
Emily scowled and pointed in the direction that Henry went. “Yeah, because he’s over, right? There’s nothing you have to do there.”
“You want her to stay?”
Emily just looked at her, her expression almost envious. “Will stayed.”
Henry hadn’t actually left. He was cowering behind the doorway, unhappy about the angry voices, but not willing to venture the rest of the way into the apartment. Didi’s M’ma was in there, and he had always been a little afraid of her. But staying here was worse, and his mother had told him that they were going over to help with the move. His dad, Morgan and Reid were busy putting a door on the dining room and he strayed over there until he nearly got stepped on and fled. He peeked into the door at the end of the hall that used to lead to Jubilee’s room. All of her stuff had been moved into the remodeled dining room, and this room was plain now, no bright curtains or piles of books, just boxes, and Didi’s M’ma sitting on the bed, knees tucked up, fingers covering her eyes and putting pressure on her temples, a pile of clothes on her right and a pile of shoes on her left.
Henry stiffened in the doorway, but he was confused about why she was sitting like that and didn’t run away. Emma glanced up and looked over at him with red eyes. “Oh,” she said. “I didn’t notice you come in. I was trying to block everyone else out.”
She didn’t seem as scary as he remembered, just tired and sad, so he didn’t leave even then.
She glanced at the piles on her bed, at the empty walls, and then back at him, as if wondering why he was still there. She sighed. “Do you want to put away my shoes?”
Henry eyed the pile of shoes. They were very sparkly. He nodded. Emma laughed weakly and gave him permission with a gesture. She turned to the clothing, sorting them into piles. Henry began sorting out the mass of shoe, and lined the pairs up carefully in the closet, tallest in the back, and shortest at the front. They were beautiful, he couldn’t help himself noticing, tall boots of soft gleaming leather, sparkly strappy sandals, pumps with netting and sequins. He ran his fingers up the stems of the heels and over the curves as they attached to the sole of the shoe. All of them were taller than his mother’s highest pair, and all of them were white, except a few pairs, which were silver. There was one pair of sequined silver ankle boots that were Henry’s favorite. After all the others were in their spots, Henry held them in his lap for a long time. Emma finished putting away her clothes and came over to look at the ones he had picked.
“You like those?”
Henry nodded.
Emma smiled, and then looked surprised as if she hadn’t expected to. “I think your feet are a little small, but you can try them on if you want.”
Henry looked up hopefully and hurriedly started to remove his miniature Timberlands. His father had selected them for him. Henry thought they were too brown. He put his foot into the boot but it slipped all the way down to the toe and the top came up past his knee.
“That’s not going to work.” Emma took them from him and stuffed the toes with packing paper. He tried again and holding tightly to her hand he managed to get to his feet and balance precariously on the four-inch heels all the way over to the mirror.
“I love them,” Henry said, quiet but happy.
“Oh, you do talk.” Emma laughed. Henry ducked his head, embarrassed, but saw the boots on his feet and forgot. “Now you need an outfit to match.”
“You have lots of shoes,” Henry said, trying to be more sociable.
Emma snorted. “And if my closet didn’t keep getting blown up, I’d have more. What do you think would go with those? Black leggings?”
Henry looked down at himself. “My daddy won’t buy me leggings.”
“That’s terrible.” Emma sat on the bed and patted her leg. “Come here. We can do a fashion show inside your head.”
Henry’s eyes widened. He didn’t know quite how she would manage that, but it sounded fun, so he climbed happily up on her lap and let Emma touch his temples. Henry gasped in surprise. Suddenly they were in a dark room with a runway lit by a spotlight, and Henry was on it! But he was also sitting in the audience. The boots he was wearing actually fit him and he had black leggings and a billowing white shirt to match.
<< You can change anything. Just tell me what. >>
<< Can the shirt be gold? >> It instantly turned to a dull metallic gold. << Shinier, with sequins. >> It followed his request. This was better than any toy!
Eventually they settled on black and white striped leggings with matching fingerless gloves that went past the elbow and a sequined silver vest with his perfect boots. (The black and pink stripes had been a close second, but Emma said that she preferred white, and Henry honored her preference.)
“You should draw it.” And Henry hurried off to get Didi’s crayons and paper.
When Emily came in, looking for him, a while later, they were stretched out on Emma’s bed, laughing and scribbling designs on the paper. She froze in the doorway, watching, looking helpless and a little hurt. Emma glanced over and met her eyes and the laughter was gone from her face.
“JJ’s leaving now,” Emily said, awkwardly. Henry sat up and went to find his Timberlands. Emma gathered up the papers and handed them to him.
“Here, take these home with you.” He nodded, glancing between Didi’s parents worriedly, and trying to hurry up with the difficult lacing. He had followed Emily out into the hall before he looked down at the papers he was carrying. Then he stopped and quickly searched through them until he found the best one, the one of the memory of the fashion show inside his head. He ran back into the room and gave it to Emma.
“This one’s for you.”
Emma nodded her thanks and took it. But he didn’t leave.
“I…” he said. “I’m glad you’ve come to stay.”
Emma looked at him. Her blue eyes that were just like his were wide, and then she smiled. “Thank you.”
He smiled back and hurried back to Emily. She reached down and touched his shoulder. He looked up and saw that she was smiling too, much happier than she had been before. Relief washed over him, and happily, he hurried to meet his parents.
A few weeks later a box came to the Lamontagne household with Henry’s name on in. Inside were the perfect pair of black and white striped leggings.
* * *
Emma was hardly showing at all, but she flinched away violently when ever Emily tried to touch her. Emily hadn’t had a chance to explore under her shirt and see what was changing. But she watched.
The Saturday shopping expedition on Jubilee’s day off was already a family event. Emma had added kippers and marshmallow fluff to the cart, to Emily’s disgust and horror. Deirdre had been pleased by the fluff, but less so by the kippers.
Emma and Deirdre were having a spirited debate about this while Emily went to get the milk. An old lady stopped her with a gentle hand just as she was about to head back with the 1%.
“You have a beautiful family,” she said.
Emily stared at her blankly and then looked over to Emma, play fighting with Didi. It was a shock how easily they interacted, how much like a family they looked.
“I do,” she said, to herself, and never noticed the old lady walk away. As she passed behind a stack of ice cream cones she became a red-haired man.
--
Mystique folded up the letter, and shook her head. Irene always did have a tendency to get into other people’s business. But she usually had a reason for it. But there was no time to wonder about what was the reason Irene had for sticking her nose in to Emma Frost’s weird little wolf-pack. She was off to see her grandson.
* * *
“Emma. Sleep with me tonight.” Emily had long ago found that the best way to get Emma to do something was with a direct order. Anything less and she would either doubt your sincerity or find some way to weasel out of it and make it your fault. Emma, sprawled on the couch, looking miserable and exhausted, turned her head and glared.
“No.”
“Emma.” Emily pouted. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you going and sneaking in to sleep with Didi. It isn’t fair that you’ll sleep with her but not with me.”
“Didi doesn’t take up any room.” Emma shook her head. “And she doesn’t wake up if I have to go puke. Just get over it. I don’t want to sleep with you.”
Emily stepped back, shocked by the viciousness of it. “Fine. I don’t care. I just…” She looked around, biting back on the tears. “I just don’t know why you want to be here, then. You could just hire a fucking servant to do my job as well.”
She turned to leave. Emma covered her face and curled deeper into the couch, ignoring her. Five minutes later she burst into Emily’s room. “Don’t you dare cry! I’m the one who’s fucking hormonal all the time. You don’t get to cry about this! Not when you’re the one who made me feel like crap.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“I hate this! I hate this so much, and every time I can’t sleep, or can’t eat, or need to throw up, I hate it even more, and I can’t sleep with you, because you make me feel like fucking shit for hating this so much, and not wanting this!”
Emily gaped. “I didn't… Emma, if you really-“
“Shut up!” Emma snapped. “Don’t you dare backpedal on this. Because you’re right, you’re fucking right, and I cannot let you just bend over and take the blame and take the responsibility because I’m too weak to do this! If this was anyone else’s kid it would have been dead six months ago!”
“God, Emma! I don’t want to be the one forcing you into this! I told you from the beginning that this had to be your decision, so stop fucking blaming me! You made this decision! You know it’s the right one, so let me make it easier!”
“How can you make it easier!”
“You said you didn't want to do this alone! So stop fucking pushing me away!”
Emma grabbed her shoulders and jerked her closer, pressing their mouths together roughly. Emily kissed her back, her fingers tangling in her hair and they fell onto the bed.
Afterwards, Emily carefully kept her hands tucked into the warmth underneath Emma’s breasts and did not let then slide down at all (no matter how much she wanted to). Emma tried to lie stiff and still, but her shoulders shook. It would only have been perceptible at a close distance, but it was hard to hide something from the person pressed against your naked back.
“Don’t cry.”
“I’m not crying,” Emma muttered thickly, proving the contrary.
Emily pressed her mouth behind her ear. “I love you.”
Emma choked and gave a rough sob. “I don’t believe you.”
“I know.”
* * *
There was a sock on the external doorhandle. Emma gave it a sharp look, then turned it to Jubilee who was leaning against the wall across the way. “What do you want?”
Jubilee held out the swear jar. “75 cents please.”
Emma grumbled, found her wallet and threw a fifty into it. “I’m starting a tab.”
The rest of the day was hard. Emma wouldn’t look at her, and Emily didn’t know how to fix it. Even Didi picked up on the awkwardness and started to cry. They put her to bed, and Jubilee got her laughing again, but it just made everything worse.
Exhausted, Emily went into her room and got ready for bed early. She considered changing the sheets, but just buried herself in their warmth and the crumpled scent of Emma. The lights were off, but she heard the door open.
“Hey, can I come in?”
Emily lifted up onto her elbows and stared at the dim outline of her lover. “Yeah… yeah. I mean, of course.”
Emma slid into bed next to her and they lay still, without touching. “Sometimes… letting me have my way isn’t what I want.”
Emily curled into her, resting her head on her shoulder. “Do you really think I don’t know that by now?”
#
Pairing: Emma/Emily
Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds
Rating: Um, I'm pretty sure this part is PG-13.
Universe: Fake Empire
Apologies: There are mysterious occurrences in this one. And Henry. :) I won't explain.
Getting kidnapped by the Hellfire Club hadn’t done much for her teaching schedule, and the X-Men gossiped like housewives, so when Emma took a leave of absence for the following semester, there wasn’t a single adult in the entire complex that didn’t know what had happened and wasn’t talking about it. Ororo kept giving her threatening looks, and Jean kept popping in, bringing drinks and snacks that were supposed to be nutritious and healthy. Emma was considering murdering her, and probably would have if she hadn’t known she’d end up a sock full of diamond dust if she tried.
When spring was finally over, Emma was thanking every deity she could imagine that she was getting the hell out of there.
She and Emily had worked out a plan. Emma would have her own room where she could be sick and angry and hate everyone without having to deal with other people. Well, that was what she claimed it was for, in reality, it was so she could have a place to go if she was going to cry. She had cried far more than was normal in the past few months (any crying was more crying than normal) and she had nearly broken down in front of her class once.
It was humiliating. And it was Emily’s fault.
When she got to DC everything got worse.
It was supposed to be comfortable. With Emily, it always had been (a little too comfortable to be honest) but now it wasn’t. Now it was tense and upsetting and miserable. Emily kept on looking at her, and she felt disgusting. She wouldn’t let her touch her either, and that, her being so close and making her stay away, just made her feel worse.
Emma felt like crap all the time now. She hated being pregnant, hated every moment of it. She slammed doors in Emily’s face, hissed at Jubilee, threatened to tread on Didi if she got in her way. (Didi’s fear just made her feel even more fat and horrible.)
She wanted this to end, and she would mark Xs on the days that passed.
She read about Matriphagal bugs, and had nightmares about being eaten from the inside. She hated Emily for doing this to her, even if it wasn’t entirely her fault. And she planned horrific tortures the members of the new Hellfire Club, because she would never forgive them for this.
Then she hated herself and went into her room to cry.
* * *
“I just don’t know what to do with her,” Emily said quietly. “She’s been in a black mood since she got here. She won’t talk to me, she won’t even look at me. I feel like I fucked this up somehow, but I don’t know what I should have done.”
“She’s being a bitch to you,” JJ snapped. “She’s always a bitch. Tell her to cut it out.”
Emily looked away. Henry was standing in the entryway looking nervous. “Hey buddy. Didi went off with Jubilee to go shopping,” she bit her lip in a gesture that JJ read clearly as ‘to get away from the hell that is this house right now,’ “I’m sorry she’s not here.”
Henry didn’t move. JJ gave him a push. “Go be useful somewhere.” He started towards Didi’s room and JJ turned back to Emily. “What are you thinking? I don’t like the expression on your face. Emma being a bitch isn’t your fault.”
“Not usually.”
JJ covered her face. “I’m not going to ask about how you got her pregnant. I’m just… not. I know I won’t be able to take the answer. But mood swings, whatever, it shouldn’t be this bad.”
“Why shouldn’t it? I’ve wrecked her life. She never wanted this. I took her away from everything that means something to her, her job, her calling. If it had been me, leaving the team…”
“She’s not dead! You knocked her up in March and it’s already the end of June. It will be over in six months!”
Emily scowled and pointed in the direction that Henry went. “Yeah, because he’s over, right? There’s nothing you have to do there.”
“You want her to stay?”
Emily just looked at her, her expression almost envious. “Will stayed.”
Henry hadn’t actually left. He was cowering behind the doorway, unhappy about the angry voices, but not willing to venture the rest of the way into the apartment. Didi’s M’ma was in there, and he had always been a little afraid of her. But staying here was worse, and his mother had told him that they were going over to help with the move. His dad, Morgan and Reid were busy putting a door on the dining room and he strayed over there until he nearly got stepped on and fled. He peeked into the door at the end of the hall that used to lead to Jubilee’s room. All of her stuff had been moved into the remodeled dining room, and this room was plain now, no bright curtains or piles of books, just boxes, and Didi’s M’ma sitting on the bed, knees tucked up, fingers covering her eyes and putting pressure on her temples, a pile of clothes on her right and a pile of shoes on her left.
Henry stiffened in the doorway, but he was confused about why she was sitting like that and didn’t run away. Emma glanced up and looked over at him with red eyes. “Oh,” she said. “I didn’t notice you come in. I was trying to block everyone else out.”
She didn’t seem as scary as he remembered, just tired and sad, so he didn’t leave even then.
She glanced at the piles on her bed, at the empty walls, and then back at him, as if wondering why he was still there. She sighed. “Do you want to put away my shoes?”
Henry eyed the pile of shoes. They were very sparkly. He nodded. Emma laughed weakly and gave him permission with a gesture. She turned to the clothing, sorting them into piles. Henry began sorting out the mass of shoe, and lined the pairs up carefully in the closet, tallest in the back, and shortest at the front. They were beautiful, he couldn’t help himself noticing, tall boots of soft gleaming leather, sparkly strappy sandals, pumps with netting and sequins. He ran his fingers up the stems of the heels and over the curves as they attached to the sole of the shoe. All of them were taller than his mother’s highest pair, and all of them were white, except a few pairs, which were silver. There was one pair of sequined silver ankle boots that were Henry’s favorite. After all the others were in their spots, Henry held them in his lap for a long time. Emma finished putting away her clothes and came over to look at the ones he had picked.
“You like those?”
Henry nodded.
Emma smiled, and then looked surprised as if she hadn’t expected to. “I think your feet are a little small, but you can try them on if you want.”
Henry looked up hopefully and hurriedly started to remove his miniature Timberlands. His father had selected them for him. Henry thought they were too brown. He put his foot into the boot but it slipped all the way down to the toe and the top came up past his knee.
“That’s not going to work.” Emma took them from him and stuffed the toes with packing paper. He tried again and holding tightly to her hand he managed to get to his feet and balance precariously on the four-inch heels all the way over to the mirror.
“I love them,” Henry said, quiet but happy.
“Oh, you do talk.” Emma laughed. Henry ducked his head, embarrassed, but saw the boots on his feet and forgot. “Now you need an outfit to match.”
“You have lots of shoes,” Henry said, trying to be more sociable.
Emma snorted. “And if my closet didn’t keep getting blown up, I’d have more. What do you think would go with those? Black leggings?”
Henry looked down at himself. “My daddy won’t buy me leggings.”
“That’s terrible.” Emma sat on the bed and patted her leg. “Come here. We can do a fashion show inside your head.”
Henry’s eyes widened. He didn’t know quite how she would manage that, but it sounded fun, so he climbed happily up on her lap and let Emma touch his temples. Henry gasped in surprise. Suddenly they were in a dark room with a runway lit by a spotlight, and Henry was on it! But he was also sitting in the audience. The boots he was wearing actually fit him and he had black leggings and a billowing white shirt to match.
<< You can change anything. Just tell me what. >>
<< Can the shirt be gold? >> It instantly turned to a dull metallic gold. << Shinier, with sequins. >> It followed his request. This was better than any toy!
Eventually they settled on black and white striped leggings with matching fingerless gloves that went past the elbow and a sequined silver vest with his perfect boots. (The black and pink stripes had been a close second, but Emma said that she preferred white, and Henry honored her preference.)
“You should draw it.” And Henry hurried off to get Didi’s crayons and paper.
When Emily came in, looking for him, a while later, they were stretched out on Emma’s bed, laughing and scribbling designs on the paper. She froze in the doorway, watching, looking helpless and a little hurt. Emma glanced over and met her eyes and the laughter was gone from her face.
“JJ’s leaving now,” Emily said, awkwardly. Henry sat up and went to find his Timberlands. Emma gathered up the papers and handed them to him.
“Here, take these home with you.” He nodded, glancing between Didi’s parents worriedly, and trying to hurry up with the difficult lacing. He had followed Emily out into the hall before he looked down at the papers he was carrying. Then he stopped and quickly searched through them until he found the best one, the one of the memory of the fashion show inside his head. He ran back into the room and gave it to Emma.
“This one’s for you.”
Emma nodded her thanks and took it. But he didn’t leave.
“I…” he said. “I’m glad you’ve come to stay.”
Emma looked at him. Her blue eyes that were just like his were wide, and then she smiled. “Thank you.”
He smiled back and hurried back to Emily. She reached down and touched his shoulder. He looked up and saw that she was smiling too, much happier than she had been before. Relief washed over him, and happily, he hurried to meet his parents.
A few weeks later a box came to the Lamontagne household with Henry’s name on in. Inside were the perfect pair of black and white striped leggings.
* * *
Emma was hardly showing at all, but she flinched away violently when ever Emily tried to touch her. Emily hadn’t had a chance to explore under her shirt and see what was changing. But she watched.
The Saturday shopping expedition on Jubilee’s day off was already a family event. Emma had added kippers and marshmallow fluff to the cart, to Emily’s disgust and horror. Deirdre had been pleased by the fluff, but less so by the kippers.
Emma and Deirdre were having a spirited debate about this while Emily went to get the milk. An old lady stopped her with a gentle hand just as she was about to head back with the 1%.
“You have a beautiful family,” she said.
Emily stared at her blankly and then looked over to Emma, play fighting with Didi. It was a shock how easily they interacted, how much like a family they looked.
“I do,” she said, to herself, and never noticed the old lady walk away. As she passed behind a stack of ice cream cones she became a red-haired man.
--
Mystique folded up the letter, and shook her head. Irene always did have a tendency to get into other people’s business. But she usually had a reason for it. But there was no time to wonder about what was the reason Irene had for sticking her nose in to Emma Frost’s weird little wolf-pack. She was off to see her grandson.
* * *
“Emma. Sleep with me tonight.” Emily had long ago found that the best way to get Emma to do something was with a direct order. Anything less and she would either doubt your sincerity or find some way to weasel out of it and make it your fault. Emma, sprawled on the couch, looking miserable and exhausted, turned her head and glared.
“No.”
“Emma.” Emily pouted. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you going and sneaking in to sleep with Didi. It isn’t fair that you’ll sleep with her but not with me.”
“Didi doesn’t take up any room.” Emma shook her head. “And she doesn’t wake up if I have to go puke. Just get over it. I don’t want to sleep with you.”
Emily stepped back, shocked by the viciousness of it. “Fine. I don’t care. I just…” She looked around, biting back on the tears. “I just don’t know why you want to be here, then. You could just hire a fucking servant to do my job as well.”
She turned to leave. Emma covered her face and curled deeper into the couch, ignoring her. Five minutes later she burst into Emily’s room. “Don’t you dare cry! I’m the one who’s fucking hormonal all the time. You don’t get to cry about this! Not when you’re the one who made me feel like crap.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“I hate this! I hate this so much, and every time I can’t sleep, or can’t eat, or need to throw up, I hate it even more, and I can’t sleep with you, because you make me feel like fucking shit for hating this so much, and not wanting this!”
Emily gaped. “I didn't… Emma, if you really-“
“Shut up!” Emma snapped. “Don’t you dare backpedal on this. Because you’re right, you’re fucking right, and I cannot let you just bend over and take the blame and take the responsibility because I’m too weak to do this! If this was anyone else’s kid it would have been dead six months ago!”
“God, Emma! I don’t want to be the one forcing you into this! I told you from the beginning that this had to be your decision, so stop fucking blaming me! You made this decision! You know it’s the right one, so let me make it easier!”
“How can you make it easier!”
“You said you didn't want to do this alone! So stop fucking pushing me away!”
Emma grabbed her shoulders and jerked her closer, pressing their mouths together roughly. Emily kissed her back, her fingers tangling in her hair and they fell onto the bed.
Afterwards, Emily carefully kept her hands tucked into the warmth underneath Emma’s breasts and did not let then slide down at all (no matter how much she wanted to). Emma tried to lie stiff and still, but her shoulders shook. It would only have been perceptible at a close distance, but it was hard to hide something from the person pressed against your naked back.
“Don’t cry.”
“I’m not crying,” Emma muttered thickly, proving the contrary.
Emily pressed her mouth behind her ear. “I love you.”
Emma choked and gave a rough sob. “I don’t believe you.”
“I know.”
* * *
There was a sock on the external doorhandle. Emma gave it a sharp look, then turned it to Jubilee who was leaning against the wall across the way. “What do you want?”
Jubilee held out the swear jar. “75 cents please.”
Emma grumbled, found her wallet and threw a fifty into it. “I’m starting a tab.”
The rest of the day was hard. Emma wouldn’t look at her, and Emily didn’t know how to fix it. Even Didi picked up on the awkwardness and started to cry. They put her to bed, and Jubilee got her laughing again, but it just made everything worse.
Exhausted, Emily went into her room and got ready for bed early. She considered changing the sheets, but just buried herself in their warmth and the crumpled scent of Emma. The lights were off, but she heard the door open.
“Hey, can I come in?”
Emily lifted up onto her elbows and stared at the dim outline of her lover. “Yeah… yeah. I mean, of course.”
Emma slid into bed next to her and they lay still, without touching. “Sometimes… letting me have my way isn’t what I want.”
Emily curled into her, resting her head on her shoulder. “Do you really think I don’t know that by now?”
#