Fic: Hold My Breath (Will/Emma, PG)
Title: Hold My Breath
Author: vlegal
Rating: PG
Pairing: Will/Emma
Disclaimer: Glee and its characters are owned by Fox and Ryan Murphy. I intend no rights infringement.
Summary: Sequel to Breathe You - Will was drowning. On a bus.
Author's Note: Hi, kids. Here's the sequel you all so politely DEMANDED. lol! I've been doing some major, huge, scary life stuff the last few weeks, hence the radio silence. So I hope you all enjoy this one and it lives up to expectations :)
Will was drowning. On a bus. Hurtling down the highway. With no water in sight. What was in sight? Red hair. Chocolate eyes. Skin that he knew felt like velvet. Five rows up and one row over. Far enough away to make his lungs feel like they were struggling to get enough oxygen. Close enough to make his heart hammer in his chest.
No one really suggested they sit apart on the ride back to Lima. Eleven hours of keeping twelve boisterous teenagers somewhat subdued so the driver wouldn’t swerve and crash demanded some tag-team chaperoning. Emma had been speaking to the driver as Will hollered, “Butts in seats, guys!” and double checked that Artie’s brakes were set tight. He had accidentally fallen into the seat behind Tina as the bus shuddered to life, while Emma had settled in next to Quinn, drawn into conversation with Kurt, Mercedes and the cheerleader. He had had to give some reminders on bus etiquette and wrangle Mike and Puck away from making lewd gestures out the windows to passing motorists, but everyone had settled down soon enough.
That was almost three hours ago. And for three hours, Will hadn’t been able to move his eyes from her. When the discussion with Kurt and Mercedes had died down, she had turned and started speaking more quietly with Quinn alone. Will couldn’t think of a time he’d seen them interact, just the two of them, but knew Quinn had come to her for guidance more than once during Babygate. By the way they talked so easily, it looked like a bond had formed. Emma smiled and nodded as Quinn shared some tale, and became more animated as Quinn pointed to a broach on her sweater. Maybe she asked where Emma had gotten it from? It didn’t matter. The way Emma’s face lit up and she started gesturing with her hands, both women dissolving into giggles at one point, Will was entranced. She looked young and happy and breathtakingly beautiful.
And she was his.
Holy shit, she was his. Not in a “You’re my woman, I own you” kind of way. But in a “You’re in love with me the same way I’m in love with you and we spent the night in each other’s arms because we’re finally on the same friggin’ page” kind of way. The best way. His life had done a full three-sixty in less than 24-hours. The last time that happened, it had entirely involved devastation, loss and heartbreak. This time? Triumph. Validation. Her.
He had to breathe slowly through his nose when he thought about the night before. Nothing, nothing, had ever felt so incredible. Not his wedding night, not his own win at Nationals, not every other exhilarating moment in his life combined and multiplied by a thousand. Holding Emma Pillsbury, kissing Emma Pillsbury, all night - no worries, no fears, no doubts - had been beyond anything he’d ever imagined. And he’d imagined. Ohhh, how he’d imagined.
But the reality was so much…more. No clothes had been taken off and things had stayed pretty tame by most standards. Okay, his hands might have drifted over second base at one point as he kissed her when they first settled in bed. He had no plans to take anything farther or pressure her at all, but the way she’d molded herself against him, his hands had unconsciously moved to trace the outline of her, fingers skimming her body lightly and learning her curves. The way she’d purred into his mouth, he hadn’t sensed any objection.
But aside from that? He’d just kissed her. And kissed her. And kissed her. And it was perfect. It was slow and easy and comfortable and them. He’d slept fitfully, but he couldn’t care less. Because every time he’d woken up, it had been to the sight, smell and taste of her. Her lips would be grazing softly over his, pulling him out of sleep into a dreamy haze that he would like to exist in for the rest of his life. His brain would shut down and his body take over, pulling her closer, tucking her more tightly against him. And then he would kiss her. And kiss her. And kiss her.
His mind and body had warred with the idea of going farther, but when that happened with Emma (when it happened. Not if anymore. It was when now.) he wanted it to be incredible. Not in some hotel room while they were technically working. He would set a whole scene - candles, music, whatever she wanted. Although, she’d said last night, all she wanted was him. All she imagined was him. Imagined. Him. Being with him. She’d thought about this.
Hoooooooly shit.
Will continued staring ahead and to the left. Had the bus companies widened the rows between seats since he was in high school? Surely five rows hadn’t always been this far apart. He’d been staring for three hours. A normal person would have gotten up a long time ago and plunked himself down next to her. But a normal person doesn’t have Will’s spinning brain. It would be too obvious if he got up now to go sit with her. The kids would notice. Someone might say something. He might make Emma uncomfortable if he seemed…eager? Maybe she’d rethought things since they started their journey home? Maybe that’s why she hadn’t come sit next to him. Or maybe she was having the same internal struggle he was having? Wanting him so badly in this moment, sitting together would lead to more than just sitting, and then the kids would definitely notice something, someone would tell their parents, who would then tell Figgins, and then he’d call the school board….
“Dude, quit undressing her with your eyes and just go sit with her.”
Will’s head snapped to his right where the voice had invaded his thoughts. “Puck, that’s inappropriate,” he responded reflexively. This was why he hadn’t gotten up to sit with her. He had enough commentary running through his own brain without adding that of hormonal teenagers. But he should have known better than to think a simple reprimand would deter Noah Puckerman.
“Relax, man. I’m not saying you should jump her bones or anything. I mean, she’s hot and all, but we’ve already got enough of a floor show on this bus.” Will’s eyes followed the direction Puck indicated with a toss of his head before he could scold him again. Several rows behind them, Finn and Rachel were a tangle of long limbs and glossy hair, kissing and whispering much like they had been for the entire drive. Will had been keeping an eye on them, but clothes and hands seemed to be staying where they should, so he hadn’t intervened. He hadn’t tried to fight his pangs of jealousy either at seeing Finn’s dreamy grin as he gazed at Rachel, while Will’s own Rachel was miles away. Five rows up and one row over.
Will turned away from the teenagers and faced the front of the bus again. Quinn had vacated her place next to Emma and was flipping through a magazine with Mercedes several seats ahead. Puck’s voice over his shoulder was quieter this time, its tone of crassness gone, “Go sit with her. I don’t think anyone’s going to lose their shit if you hold her hand or talk to her. You think we don’t want to see Mom and Dad live happily ever after?”
Will couldn’t argue with Puck’s raised eyebrows and knowing grin, and didn’t have a chance to before his student clapped him on the shoulder and slumped back in his seat with his iPod. Will looked ahead again. She was staring out the window. He saw her take a deep breath and settle more in her seat, tucking some hair behind her ear. It glittered and shone in the light from the window. He knew it smelled like vanilla and felt like silk. It was extra soft right at the nape of her neck. Right where he’d kissed her last night, run his lips over bare her skin, when she told him again that she loved him.
To hell with this.
“Hey,” he said quietly, trying not to let the bouncing of the bus pitch him into her lap as he slid in next to her.
“Hi,” she grinned. Her eyes sparkled. He’d seen that before, lived without it for almost a year, but now it was back. And it was for him.
He smiled back at her, unsure of what to say next. God, he wanted to kiss her. But he couldn’t. Not on a bus full of kids, some of whom were obviously watching them. He should probably say something first anyways, something like…
“I missed you. Is that weird?” she asked quietly, beating him to it. She lowered her eyes, but looked back up at him briefly, shyly. “I know you were just sitting back there, but I missed you.”
“Not weird,” he shook his head in response. “Not weird at all. I wanted to come sit with you, but you were talking to Quinn and…” And he was struggling so hard right now not to bury his hands in her hair and pull her into his lap while they kissed each other senseless, it had probably been a good idea to hang back for a couple of hours. At least being next to her again seemed to be taking the iron vice off of his lungs. He took a deep breath, her perfume and scent filling his nose and his brain, and dared to reach a hand over. He settled his fingers beside her hand on her lap and let his thumb stroke lightly along hers. Her index and middle fingers shifted, toying with his fingertips for a moment before tucking under his palm. They had spent the night pressed against each other, touching, kissing, stroking. He had had countless fantasies of her, many of them involving a significant amount of nudity, and based on her confessions, so had she. And yet, he stared at their hands and realized this might be one of their most intimate moments.
“You’re really in love with me?” he heard himself asking, still staring at his thumb running over hers. He didn’t know why he needed the affirmation, but the idea that this might not actually be happening flitted through his brain and made him nauseous. He looked back up at her, suddenly worried that this all might be taken away.
His worry lasted as long as it took Emma to glance around the bus and then shift closer to him. Her free hand ran along his jaw and rested at the side of his face. The way she kissed him - moist, open lips, warm breath, the barest hint of her tongue - drained all of his concern just as fast as it had appeared.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I’m really, completely, so in love with you.”
Her smile and the air that rushed into his lungs made him feel like he was high. Images and sensations from the night before flooded his brain - a cascade of red hair tickling his face, her pulse under his tongue as he acquainted his lips with the soft skin of her neck, waking up with her hands tucked under his shirt, palms warm and flat against his chest - maybe that’s why he spoke without thinking.
“Come home with me tonight.”
Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit. He did not just say that.
Emma’s eyebrows shot up her forehead and her mouth gaped a little. Shit. “Sorry, I don’t mean…” Will began to stammer, “I’m not saying we should…not right away…I just wanted…shit, last night was so perfect, Em, and if you want to…I’d love to…I just don’t…” Emma stopped his incoherent ramblings with another small kiss.
“You just don’t want to stop kissing me?” Her eyes were laughing and a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she repeated her words of last night. He chuckled at himself for how ridiculous and panicked he must have just sounded. And how he had let himself doubt for a second that she wouldn’t be able to read his mind. Never in his life will he ever love someone as much as he loves Emma Pillsbury.
“I just don’t want to stop kissing you,” he confirmed. “Ever.” Emma’s grin was unlike anything he’d ever seen, even though she ducked her head and tried to hide it. “Come home with me tonight?” he tried again. “I’m not asking for…anything…I would just love to…be with you again, but for longer this time. And in a nicer bed. With no kids to deal with. Is that…would that be ok?” His nerves prickled again, but less so this time.
Emma raised her head to look at him, her grin unfaded. “Ya, that would be ok. More than ok.” It was Will who leaned forward and kissed her this time, chaste and brief, reminding himself where they were and that this would need to be it for the rest of the trip. Until they got home. And then….no holds barred. He was going to kiss Emma Pillsbury as much as he could for the rest of the weekend. Or the rest of his life. Whichever was longer.
The rest of the trip was spent talking and not talking, both comfortable with either as long as their fingers stayed entwined. They had only had to let go when the driver reached a rest stop, suggesting everyone get out and stretch their legs for a bit and grab something to eat while he got more gas.
Will knelt up on his seat, Emma placing a steadying hand on his back so he didn’t lose his balance. Little did she know that her touch put him more off-kilter than the jostling of the bus. He hollered the plan to the kids, rousing some from their naps and others from their earphones. When the bus came to a stop, he let his students file out first, counting heads as they shuffled past. Puck and his knowing smirk held the tail end of the group.
“You moved seats, Mr. Schue. Not as comfy at the back?”
Emma looked confused at the way Puck waggled his eyebrows at her and looked to Will for an explanation. He squeezed her hand and turned back to his student.
“Nah, the air’s just better up here.”
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Feedback is love :)
Author: vlegal
Rating: PG
Pairing: Will/Emma
Disclaimer: Glee and its characters are owned by Fox and Ryan Murphy. I intend no rights infringement.
Summary: Sequel to Breathe You - Will was drowning. On a bus.
Author's Note: Hi, kids. Here's the sequel you all so politely DEMANDED. lol! I've been doing some major, huge, scary life stuff the last few weeks, hence the radio silence. So I hope you all enjoy this one and it lives up to expectations :)
Will was drowning. On a bus. Hurtling down the highway. With no water in sight. What was in sight? Red hair. Chocolate eyes. Skin that he knew felt like velvet. Five rows up and one row over. Far enough away to make his lungs feel like they were struggling to get enough oxygen. Close enough to make his heart hammer in his chest.
No one really suggested they sit apart on the ride back to Lima. Eleven hours of keeping twelve boisterous teenagers somewhat subdued so the driver wouldn’t swerve and crash demanded some tag-team chaperoning. Emma had been speaking to the driver as Will hollered, “Butts in seats, guys!” and double checked that Artie’s brakes were set tight. He had accidentally fallen into the seat behind Tina as the bus shuddered to life, while Emma had settled in next to Quinn, drawn into conversation with Kurt, Mercedes and the cheerleader. He had had to give some reminders on bus etiquette and wrangle Mike and Puck away from making lewd gestures out the windows to passing motorists, but everyone had settled down soon enough.
That was almost three hours ago. And for three hours, Will hadn’t been able to move his eyes from her. When the discussion with Kurt and Mercedes had died down, she had turned and started speaking more quietly with Quinn alone. Will couldn’t think of a time he’d seen them interact, just the two of them, but knew Quinn had come to her for guidance more than once during Babygate. By the way they talked so easily, it looked like a bond had formed. Emma smiled and nodded as Quinn shared some tale, and became more animated as Quinn pointed to a broach on her sweater. Maybe she asked where Emma had gotten it from? It didn’t matter. The way Emma’s face lit up and she started gesturing with her hands, both women dissolving into giggles at one point, Will was entranced. She looked young and happy and breathtakingly beautiful.
And she was his.
Holy shit, she was his. Not in a “You’re my woman, I own you” kind of way. But in a “You’re in love with me the same way I’m in love with you and we spent the night in each other’s arms because we’re finally on the same friggin’ page” kind of way. The best way. His life had done a full three-sixty in less than 24-hours. The last time that happened, it had entirely involved devastation, loss and heartbreak. This time? Triumph. Validation. Her.
He had to breathe slowly through his nose when he thought about the night before. Nothing, nothing, had ever felt so incredible. Not his wedding night, not his own win at Nationals, not every other exhilarating moment in his life combined and multiplied by a thousand. Holding Emma Pillsbury, kissing Emma Pillsbury, all night - no worries, no fears, no doubts - had been beyond anything he’d ever imagined. And he’d imagined. Ohhh, how he’d imagined.
But the reality was so much…more. No clothes had been taken off and things had stayed pretty tame by most standards. Okay, his hands might have drifted over second base at one point as he kissed her when they first settled in bed. He had no plans to take anything farther or pressure her at all, but the way she’d molded herself against him, his hands had unconsciously moved to trace the outline of her, fingers skimming her body lightly and learning her curves. The way she’d purred into his mouth, he hadn’t sensed any objection.
But aside from that? He’d just kissed her. And kissed her. And kissed her. And it was perfect. It was slow and easy and comfortable and them. He’d slept fitfully, but he couldn’t care less. Because every time he’d woken up, it had been to the sight, smell and taste of her. Her lips would be grazing softly over his, pulling him out of sleep into a dreamy haze that he would like to exist in for the rest of his life. His brain would shut down and his body take over, pulling her closer, tucking her more tightly against him. And then he would kiss her. And kiss her. And kiss her.
His mind and body had warred with the idea of going farther, but when that happened with Emma (when it happened. Not if anymore. It was when now.) he wanted it to be incredible. Not in some hotel room while they were technically working. He would set a whole scene - candles, music, whatever she wanted. Although, she’d said last night, all she wanted was him. All she imagined was him. Imagined. Him. Being with him. She’d thought about this.
Hoooooooly shit.
Will continued staring ahead and to the left. Had the bus companies widened the rows between seats since he was in high school? Surely five rows hadn’t always been this far apart. He’d been staring for three hours. A normal person would have gotten up a long time ago and plunked himself down next to her. But a normal person doesn’t have Will’s spinning brain. It would be too obvious if he got up now to go sit with her. The kids would notice. Someone might say something. He might make Emma uncomfortable if he seemed…eager? Maybe she’d rethought things since they started their journey home? Maybe that’s why she hadn’t come sit next to him. Or maybe she was having the same internal struggle he was having? Wanting him so badly in this moment, sitting together would lead to more than just sitting, and then the kids would definitely notice something, someone would tell their parents, who would then tell Figgins, and then he’d call the school board….
“Dude, quit undressing her with your eyes and just go sit with her.”
Will’s head snapped to his right where the voice had invaded his thoughts. “Puck, that’s inappropriate,” he responded reflexively. This was why he hadn’t gotten up to sit with her. He had enough commentary running through his own brain without adding that of hormonal teenagers. But he should have known better than to think a simple reprimand would deter Noah Puckerman.
“Relax, man. I’m not saying you should jump her bones or anything. I mean, she’s hot and all, but we’ve already got enough of a floor show on this bus.” Will’s eyes followed the direction Puck indicated with a toss of his head before he could scold him again. Several rows behind them, Finn and Rachel were a tangle of long limbs and glossy hair, kissing and whispering much like they had been for the entire drive. Will had been keeping an eye on them, but clothes and hands seemed to be staying where they should, so he hadn’t intervened. He hadn’t tried to fight his pangs of jealousy either at seeing Finn’s dreamy grin as he gazed at Rachel, while Will’s own Rachel was miles away. Five rows up and one row over.
Will turned away from the teenagers and faced the front of the bus again. Quinn had vacated her place next to Emma and was flipping through a magazine with Mercedes several seats ahead. Puck’s voice over his shoulder was quieter this time, its tone of crassness gone, “Go sit with her. I don’t think anyone’s going to lose their shit if you hold her hand or talk to her. You think we don’t want to see Mom and Dad live happily ever after?”
Will couldn’t argue with Puck’s raised eyebrows and knowing grin, and didn’t have a chance to before his student clapped him on the shoulder and slumped back in his seat with his iPod. Will looked ahead again. She was staring out the window. He saw her take a deep breath and settle more in her seat, tucking some hair behind her ear. It glittered and shone in the light from the window. He knew it smelled like vanilla and felt like silk. It was extra soft right at the nape of her neck. Right where he’d kissed her last night, run his lips over bare her skin, when she told him again that she loved him.
To hell with this.
“Hey,” he said quietly, trying not to let the bouncing of the bus pitch him into her lap as he slid in next to her.
“Hi,” she grinned. Her eyes sparkled. He’d seen that before, lived without it for almost a year, but now it was back. And it was for him.
He smiled back at her, unsure of what to say next. God, he wanted to kiss her. But he couldn’t. Not on a bus full of kids, some of whom were obviously watching them. He should probably say something first anyways, something like…
“I missed you. Is that weird?” she asked quietly, beating him to it. She lowered her eyes, but looked back up at him briefly, shyly. “I know you were just sitting back there, but I missed you.”
“Not weird,” he shook his head in response. “Not weird at all. I wanted to come sit with you, but you were talking to Quinn and…” And he was struggling so hard right now not to bury his hands in her hair and pull her into his lap while they kissed each other senseless, it had probably been a good idea to hang back for a couple of hours. At least being next to her again seemed to be taking the iron vice off of his lungs. He took a deep breath, her perfume and scent filling his nose and his brain, and dared to reach a hand over. He settled his fingers beside her hand on her lap and let his thumb stroke lightly along hers. Her index and middle fingers shifted, toying with his fingertips for a moment before tucking under his palm. They had spent the night pressed against each other, touching, kissing, stroking. He had had countless fantasies of her, many of them involving a significant amount of nudity, and based on her confessions, so had she. And yet, he stared at their hands and realized this might be one of their most intimate moments.
“You’re really in love with me?” he heard himself asking, still staring at his thumb running over hers. He didn’t know why he needed the affirmation, but the idea that this might not actually be happening flitted through his brain and made him nauseous. He looked back up at her, suddenly worried that this all might be taken away.
His worry lasted as long as it took Emma to glance around the bus and then shift closer to him. Her free hand ran along his jaw and rested at the side of his face. The way she kissed him - moist, open lips, warm breath, the barest hint of her tongue - drained all of his concern just as fast as it had appeared.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I’m really, completely, so in love with you.”
Her smile and the air that rushed into his lungs made him feel like he was high. Images and sensations from the night before flooded his brain - a cascade of red hair tickling his face, her pulse under his tongue as he acquainted his lips with the soft skin of her neck, waking up with her hands tucked under his shirt, palms warm and flat against his chest - maybe that’s why he spoke without thinking.
“Come home with me tonight.”
Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit. He did not just say that.
Emma’s eyebrows shot up her forehead and her mouth gaped a little. Shit. “Sorry, I don’t mean…” Will began to stammer, “I’m not saying we should…not right away…I just wanted…shit, last night was so perfect, Em, and if you want to…I’d love to…I just don’t…” Emma stopped his incoherent ramblings with another small kiss.
“You just don’t want to stop kissing me?” Her eyes were laughing and a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she repeated her words of last night. He chuckled at himself for how ridiculous and panicked he must have just sounded. And how he had let himself doubt for a second that she wouldn’t be able to read his mind. Never in his life will he ever love someone as much as he loves Emma Pillsbury.
“I just don’t want to stop kissing you,” he confirmed. “Ever.” Emma’s grin was unlike anything he’d ever seen, even though she ducked her head and tried to hide it. “Come home with me tonight?” he tried again. “I’m not asking for…anything…I would just love to…be with you again, but for longer this time. And in a nicer bed. With no kids to deal with. Is that…would that be ok?” His nerves prickled again, but less so this time.
Emma raised her head to look at him, her grin unfaded. “Ya, that would be ok. More than ok.” It was Will who leaned forward and kissed her this time, chaste and brief, reminding himself where they were and that this would need to be it for the rest of the trip. Until they got home. And then….no holds barred. He was going to kiss Emma Pillsbury as much as he could for the rest of the weekend. Or the rest of his life. Whichever was longer.
The rest of the trip was spent talking and not talking, both comfortable with either as long as their fingers stayed entwined. They had only had to let go when the driver reached a rest stop, suggesting everyone get out and stretch their legs for a bit and grab something to eat while he got more gas.
Will knelt up on his seat, Emma placing a steadying hand on his back so he didn’t lose his balance. Little did she know that her touch put him more off-kilter than the jostling of the bus. He hollered the plan to the kids, rousing some from their naps and others from their earphones. When the bus came to a stop, he let his students file out first, counting heads as they shuffled past. Puck and his knowing smirk held the tail end of the group.
“You moved seats, Mr. Schue. Not as comfy at the back?”
Emma looked confused at the way Puck waggled his eyebrows at her and looked to Will for an explanation. He squeezed her hand and turned back to his student.
“Nah, the air’s just better up here.”
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Feedback is love :)