Loveaholic 2
Title: Loveaholic
Author: Alsike
Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds x-over
Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss
Rating: R
AN/Disclaimer: Not my girls.
Apologies: I am doling this out in small chunks. Hopefully I will finish my papers soon and I can get back to work on my sagas.
Summary: Sometimes the plans you make have a chance to become real. What if what you thought you wanted isn't enough?
1: Upon the sand, Upon the bay,
Emma couldn’t quite get that family out of her head. It was a puzzle, what was going on with them that would give them something to hide. And the children were too intelligent and had too much potential to waste in secrets. It was important to give them support.
She was assigning a book report in class. Each student would do a different book, so even if they all summarized it, she wouldn’t die of boredom. The students could present an idea of their own, or they could pick one off a list she provided.
Susan already had an idea. She was interested in Kurt Vonnegut and Emma thought eleven was probably old enough for some of it. But Sam looked bored and distracted when she passed out the list. A few people shot up their hands and suggested books they wanted to read. Some were decent enough; others were too easy. But if someone suggested Goosebumps, she would counter with Arthur Conan Doyle’s horror stories. If they wanted an Indiana Jones novelization she would push Robert Louis Stevenson. And if they were desperately oversexed, she’d give them James Bond. She called Sam up as the kids fled to lunch and asked him if he had any ideas. He shrugged. “I’m not that interested in books.”
Emma nodded. “Did your mom read to you a lot when you were little?”
He nodded again. “We don’t have a TV. It’s always books.” He frowned. “I used to like books. But in fourth grade, we read Bridge to Terabithia, and,” he sighed. “I just didn’t want to read anymore after that. It seems like all the books now are about death or romance and I’d rather play football.”
Emma nodded. “I hate that book. I’m trying to have it banned from the curriculum, but no success so far.”
Sam laughed. “Dad said it was supposed to be tragic. But tragic is like Redwall, when warriors die for something. She just died. For nothing.”
Emma took out the list. “Do you like Redwall?”
“Yeah, but I’ve read all of them.”
“I want you to try this one,” she circled one of the names on the list. “I think you’ll like it. And I promise that you can trust it.”
“No one dies?”
“I didn’t say that. And sometimes it’s complicated when people die, and who’s to blame. But I think you’ll like it anyways.”
Sam shrugged. “I’ll try it. Saves me from picking one.”
Emma laughed. “Go to lunch.”
* * *
“Susan.”
Susan glanced up from her book to her mother, leaning in the doorway. “Yes?”
Emily winced slightly. She had never quite figured out where her daughter had picked up that mode of greeting. It reminded her vaguely of her mother, but her mother would just sigh, put-upon and irritated. She didn’t have the arch inquiring tone. “Your teacher stopped by yesterday…”
Susan’s eyes lit up. “Really? Did she bring me anything to do?”
“Uh, no.”
Susan drooped.
“She said you were an excellent student.”
This perked her up slightly.
“And she said you had come to her with a problem.”
“No a problem,” Susan said uncomfortably. “Just a question.”
“What is sin?”
“It’s not like I didn’t know. I just wanted to know what it meant, not the word, but what it meant to be…”
“A sinner?” Emily sighed. “You could have come to me.”
Susan made a face that displayed clearly that she couldn’t have.
“What did she say?”
“She said that sin was a… way of thinking that labeled things good and bad without…” she frowned, trying to phrase it. “Without asking why they were good or bad, and who they hurt to make them bad.”
Emily stared. That was an incredibly nuanced view of morality and not at all what she had expected to hear. “Oh. That’s… that’s a good answer, I guess.”
Susan rolled her eyes. “That’s why I asked her. She’s really smart.”
“So are you… okay now? With that answer?”
Susan looked down. “No.”
“No?”
“What did you do? What did we do, to make Gran hate us?”
Emily sighed. “She’ll get over it, I hope. And it’s nothing that you did. It was me.”
“What was it?”
“I lied to her.”
“Lying is a sin?”
“Of course.”
“But you lying to her doesn’t make our house sinful, does it?”
Emily sighed again. Smart children were terribly overrated. “No. But lying was the only thing I did wrong. Whatever else she’s angry about, it wasn’t wrong.”
It wasn’t wrong. And she had never really lied. She had just let her mother assume that she was doing these things for the normal reasons.
Michael was in the living room, his feet up on the coffee table, reading a magazine. She settled against him, leaning her head against his chest. When they were kids they had never thought about this. It had seemed like such a perfect plan. And it was a good plan. They had two perfect kids, and a real life, a real family. It was what she had wanted for so long and never believed she could have.
“Everything okay in there?” He knocked on her head.
“Yeah,” she sighed. “Her teacher came to see me today. Suze overheard my argument with Mom, and apparently it’s still bothering her.”
“I’m sorry about that,” he said sadly. “I really never intended…”
“I know. It was an accident. My nosy mother sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong.”
“I understand why she’s worried about you though. I’m always going to be your family, but can you really live your life without-“
“Shut up.” Emily snapped. “I can’t believe you. That’s not what she’s worried about and you know it. She thinks we have vast immoral, profligate orgies in this house. You think I’m not having enough. I can’t please both of you, and I don’t want to please either of you!”
Michael put his arms around her and cuddled her close, not letting her squirm away. “I just want you to be happy like me!” he said in a silly voice.
“Ooh! Is it cuddle Emily time?” Matt popped his head out of the kitchen stairwell and joined them on the couch, attacking her from the other side. He nuzzled her neck and Michael kissed her cheek. Sam jogged down the stairs and pounced to get into the middle of the tumble.
“God, how did I manage to get surrounded by so many men?” Emily whined, but let them hug her.
Michael laughed. “You like us when we’re skinny boys with too much eyeliner, and then we grow up.”
That was true enough. He had been skinny and lanky with spiky black hair when she had met him at school. Being his friend had been absolutely crazy, especially once he painted her black eyeliner on to match his own and they snuck out to the clubs in south London. But at about 23 he had suddenly expanded in the shoulders and chest, and after his scare he had changed. His art had become more important to him, and he was employed as a costume designer and make-up artist for a popular avant-garde theatre company.
Matt was not too much different than he had been when she had known him at fifteen. It was his loyalty and generosity that had always been important to his character, not his floppy bleached hair and soft body. She had only reconnected with him a few years before, when he was getting out of rehab and entering cooking school. He had supported her when she needed it, and when he needed a place to stay after graduating, while he was looking for a job, she had let him stay. He hadn’t left. He had found a job at a local gastropub and shown no signs of relapsing. She hadn’t made a mistake, letting him come.
It really wasn’t fair. She had everything she had ever wanted. Why couldn’t they let her just be happy with it?
* * *
3: Before you illustrate
Author: Alsike
Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds x-over
Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss
Rating: R
AN/Disclaimer: Not my girls.
Apologies: I am doling this out in small chunks. Hopefully I will finish my papers soon and I can get back to work on my sagas.
Summary: Sometimes the plans you make have a chance to become real. What if what you thought you wanted isn't enough?
1: Upon the sand, Upon the bay,
Emma couldn’t quite get that family out of her head. It was a puzzle, what was going on with them that would give them something to hide. And the children were too intelligent and had too much potential to waste in secrets. It was important to give them support.
She was assigning a book report in class. Each student would do a different book, so even if they all summarized it, she wouldn’t die of boredom. The students could present an idea of their own, or they could pick one off a list she provided.
Susan already had an idea. She was interested in Kurt Vonnegut and Emma thought eleven was probably old enough for some of it. But Sam looked bored and distracted when she passed out the list. A few people shot up their hands and suggested books they wanted to read. Some were decent enough; others were too easy. But if someone suggested Goosebumps, she would counter with Arthur Conan Doyle’s horror stories. If they wanted an Indiana Jones novelization she would push Robert Louis Stevenson. And if they were desperately oversexed, she’d give them James Bond. She called Sam up as the kids fled to lunch and asked him if he had any ideas. He shrugged. “I’m not that interested in books.”
Emma nodded. “Did your mom read to you a lot when you were little?”
He nodded again. “We don’t have a TV. It’s always books.” He frowned. “I used to like books. But in fourth grade, we read Bridge to Terabithia, and,” he sighed. “I just didn’t want to read anymore after that. It seems like all the books now are about death or romance and I’d rather play football.”
Emma nodded. “I hate that book. I’m trying to have it banned from the curriculum, but no success so far.”
Sam laughed. “Dad said it was supposed to be tragic. But tragic is like Redwall, when warriors die for something. She just died. For nothing.”
Emma took out the list. “Do you like Redwall?”
“Yeah, but I’ve read all of them.”
“I want you to try this one,” she circled one of the names on the list. “I think you’ll like it. And I promise that you can trust it.”
“No one dies?”
“I didn’t say that. And sometimes it’s complicated when people die, and who’s to blame. But I think you’ll like it anyways.”
Sam shrugged. “I’ll try it. Saves me from picking one.”
Emma laughed. “Go to lunch.”
* * *
“Susan.”
Susan glanced up from her book to her mother, leaning in the doorway. “Yes?”
Emily winced slightly. She had never quite figured out where her daughter had picked up that mode of greeting. It reminded her vaguely of her mother, but her mother would just sigh, put-upon and irritated. She didn’t have the arch inquiring tone. “Your teacher stopped by yesterday…”
Susan’s eyes lit up. “Really? Did she bring me anything to do?”
“Uh, no.”
Susan drooped.
“She said you were an excellent student.”
This perked her up slightly.
“And she said you had come to her with a problem.”
“No a problem,” Susan said uncomfortably. “Just a question.”
“What is sin?”
“It’s not like I didn’t know. I just wanted to know what it meant, not the word, but what it meant to be…”
“A sinner?” Emily sighed. “You could have come to me.”
Susan made a face that displayed clearly that she couldn’t have.
“What did she say?”
“She said that sin was a… way of thinking that labeled things good and bad without…” she frowned, trying to phrase it. “Without asking why they were good or bad, and who they hurt to make them bad.”
Emily stared. That was an incredibly nuanced view of morality and not at all what she had expected to hear. “Oh. That’s… that’s a good answer, I guess.”
Susan rolled her eyes. “That’s why I asked her. She’s really smart.”
“So are you… okay now? With that answer?”
Susan looked down. “No.”
“No?”
“What did you do? What did we do, to make Gran hate us?”
Emily sighed. “She’ll get over it, I hope. And it’s nothing that you did. It was me.”
“What was it?”
“I lied to her.”
“Lying is a sin?”
“Of course.”
“But you lying to her doesn’t make our house sinful, does it?”
Emily sighed again. Smart children were terribly overrated. “No. But lying was the only thing I did wrong. Whatever else she’s angry about, it wasn’t wrong.”
It wasn’t wrong. And she had never really lied. She had just let her mother assume that she was doing these things for the normal reasons.
Michael was in the living room, his feet up on the coffee table, reading a magazine. She settled against him, leaning her head against his chest. When they were kids they had never thought about this. It had seemed like such a perfect plan. And it was a good plan. They had two perfect kids, and a real life, a real family. It was what she had wanted for so long and never believed she could have.
“Everything okay in there?” He knocked on her head.
“Yeah,” she sighed. “Her teacher came to see me today. Suze overheard my argument with Mom, and apparently it’s still bothering her.”
“I’m sorry about that,” he said sadly. “I really never intended…”
“I know. It was an accident. My nosy mother sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong.”
“I understand why she’s worried about you though. I’m always going to be your family, but can you really live your life without-“
“Shut up.” Emily snapped. “I can’t believe you. That’s not what she’s worried about and you know it. She thinks we have vast immoral, profligate orgies in this house. You think I’m not having enough. I can’t please both of you, and I don’t want to please either of you!”
Michael put his arms around her and cuddled her close, not letting her squirm away. “I just want you to be happy like me!” he said in a silly voice.
“Ooh! Is it cuddle Emily time?” Matt popped his head out of the kitchen stairwell and joined them on the couch, attacking her from the other side. He nuzzled her neck and Michael kissed her cheek. Sam jogged down the stairs and pounced to get into the middle of the tumble.
“God, how did I manage to get surrounded by so many men?” Emily whined, but let them hug her.
Michael laughed. “You like us when we’re skinny boys with too much eyeliner, and then we grow up.”
That was true enough. He had been skinny and lanky with spiky black hair when she had met him at school. Being his friend had been absolutely crazy, especially once he painted her black eyeliner on to match his own and they snuck out to the clubs in south London. But at about 23 he had suddenly expanded in the shoulders and chest, and after his scare he had changed. His art had become more important to him, and he was employed as a costume designer and make-up artist for a popular avant-garde theatre company.
Matt was not too much different than he had been when she had known him at fifteen. It was his loyalty and generosity that had always been important to his character, not his floppy bleached hair and soft body. She had only reconnected with him a few years before, when he was getting out of rehab and entering cooking school. He had supported her when she needed it, and when he needed a place to stay after graduating, while he was looking for a job, she had let him stay. He hadn’t left. He had found a job at a local gastropub and shown no signs of relapsing. She hadn’t made a mistake, letting him come.
It really wasn’t fair. She had everything she had ever wanted. Why couldn’t they let her just be happy with it?
* * *
3: Before you illustrate