Pretty Girls Make Graves (aka Loveaholic) 7/8
Title: Pretty Girls Make Graves (aka Loveaholic) 7/8
Author: Alsike
Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds x-over
Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss
Rating: R
AN/Disclaimer: Not my girls.
Apologies: Better title, and possible short mix! (I should probably edit the whole thing too, but no, I will just blame it on the flu.)
Summary: Sometimes the plans you make have a chance to become real. What if what you thought you wanted isn't enough?
“I want you to stay away from my mother.”
Emma turned around, rather shocked to see Susan standing by her desk. “What?”
“My mother’s a bad liar. She said there was nothing between you. I believed her when she said you don’t get along. I saw you argue at the football match. But I don’t think that’s all.”
Emma very carefully did not let her eyes slide over to where she had taken the girl’s mother on her desk. “I think your mother is a very attractive woman,” she said, carefully. “I think your family is even more interesting, because of how non-traditional it is, and yet how functional it remains. I don’t mind not being allowed to see your mother, but I do remember that you and Sam were very distressed when I stopped coming over to see you.”
“You can see her,” Susan clarified petulantly. “You just can’t fall in love with her.”
Emma blinked. “And what makes you think I would do that? I don’t usually make a habit of falling in love with my student’s parents.”
“I don’t know if there’s a reason why you would or why you wouldn’t. But you belong to us, so you can’t belong to mom.”
Emma smiled lazily. “So it’s alright if I sleep with her. I just can’t choose her over you?”
“You can’t sleep with her either.”
“No?”
“It’s gross. Teachers shouldn’t have sex.”
Emma just shook her head. “The administration generally agrees with you.”
* * *
Susan had clearly forgotten one of the principals she taught in her relationships module. “Forbidden fruit is all the sweeter for being forbidden.” But Emily had always been forbidden to her, perhaps it was more alluring from the other side.
It was getting into November, chilly, but it wasn’t likely to snow. Being from Boston, Emma missed the snow sometimes. She knew that if it did snow she would likely become exasperated with it very quickly. But she allowed herself a little hypocrisy, and stared up at the grey clouds over the playing fields.
After school she often stayed in her classroom grading, or working on her lessons. She glanced up and saw Emily leaning on the doorframe, watching her.
“I think your daughter would not approve if she saw what you were doing right now.”
Emily gave a low laugh. “She let you know?”
“Very firmly.” Emma wriggled her eyebrows suggestively. “Right here, in fact.”
“That must have been thrilling.”
“Oh it was. I love having eleven year olds trying to dictate my sex life.”
“You get used to it.”
“It seems to me that you’re doing a bit of rule breaking.”
Emily chuckled. “Actually, I’m here with the full knowledge and permission of my offspring. Um, Thanksgiving’s this Thursday.”
“Is it? I generally find it irrelevant now that I live in a country that has no such tradition.”
Emily nodded. “Yeah. Michael had a very difficult time figuring out what it was, but my mother likes to remind me that I am still an American citizen and I ‘should respect that.’” Emily imitated her mockingly. “Matt likes to cook for it anyways. And you’re an ex-pat. Would you like to come? On Saturday. It’s hard to have a holiday on a weekday in a country that lacks it.”
Emma cocked her head. “Is your mother going to be there?”
Emily cringed. “Don’t remind me.”
“I really would say no. Except… I kind of desperately want to witness your mother at a family dinner now that she knows.”
“I don’t.”
“Well, the fact that you know me at all is rather her fault. I don’t think I can pass it up.”
“I just hope having company might put her on her best behavior.”
“So manipulative.” Emma couldn’t stop grinning. Emily looked to be in general despair. “And don’t pout like that. It makes me want to suck on your bottom lip, and I believe your daughter would disapprove.”
Emily laughed and moved to depart the classroom. “Alright, around one?”
Emma nodded and went back to work.
* * *
She brought Jack. It was a suitably American offering, and from Emily’s comment at the band concert, she thought it would be appreciated.
It was.
Emily met her at the door and took it right out of her hand, pouring herself a tumbler and drinking it in one gulp. “You are a genius.”
Emma just laughed.
Elizabeth Prentiss was holding court in the living room. Sam was sitting stiffly on the other chair, watching his feet dangle unhappily. Matt had been down in the kitchen, basting, and greeted Emma with a smile. Michael and Susan were nowhere to be seen.
“Mom, this is Emma Frost, Sam and Susan’s teacher.”
Elizabeth gave her a cool look and held out her hand, more to bow over than to shake. Emma matched her look. She wasn’t at all outclassed. She ignored the hand and nodded.
Sam leapt up at the sight of her and actually hugged her around the waist, which had most definitely never happened before.
“Ms. Frost! Ms. Frost. Will you come upstairs? I want to show you something!”
Emma allowed herself to be led, shrugging her helplessness to Emily’s despairing glance.
Up in Sam’s room, he collapsed on the bed and didn’t seem to want to show her anything.
“How has it been with your grandmother here?” Emma asked him.
“Awful,” he said blandly. “Mom and Gran won’t stop fighting, and they fight in that posh way where no one admits that they’re being mean or that they’re mad when they really are.”
Emma knew that method well. There was snappishness coming from downstairs.
“No she is not my girlfriend. The kids love her, excessively. Try to be civil.”
Susan peeked into the room. “You came!” she exclaimed, and hugged Emma as well.
“I think I was invited as a buffer. I probably shouldn’t hide up here the entire time.”
Sam sat up. “But let me show you the comic book I’m making first!”
Susan also exclaimed her intention to show Emma something, and ran off to fetch it.
When dinner was served, Michael was discovered in the dining room, finishing off a set of personalized and attractive place cards. Matt emerged from the kitchen to carve, and Emily was clearly on her way to being soused.
Most of the adults had wine in their wine glasses (Matt and the kids had apple cider) but Emily had hers half-full of a suspicious dark liquid.
“Don’t you want to cut that with something?”
Emily gave her a narrow look and pulled the glass to her chest. “Don’t touch.”
“So, Ms. Frost,” Elizabeth began. “How did you end up at our family party?” She gave her a suspicious look.
Emma smiled and cocked her head. “I think it’s mainly because I’m an American, and your daughter took pity on me for being so far from home.”
“I see. What brought you to England?”
“I wanted to be as far as possible from the remains of my family. I tried French Equatorial Africa, but decided I preferred an English speaking locale.”
“You don’t speak a foreign language?”
“A few, but I prefer to live in English. And I’m more employable in English as well.”
“You teach at my grandchildren’s school.”
“Yes.”
“And are they good students?”
“They are two of my best.”
“They haven’t shown any… adverse effects?”
Emma played dumb. “Of what?”
Elizabeth formed her lips into a thin line. She turned away from Emma. “I see you’re not drinking Matthew. No doubt your parents would be pleased.”
“I’m also not going to church. I think they might not be so happy about that.”
“I suppose not. Would it be rude of me to inquire about your plans? Surely you’re not planning on staying here permanently.”
Matt smiled stiffly. “Why not? Your daughter did me a great kindness by giving me a chance to prove that I was healthy, but she has told me that as long as I stay healthy and am not a burden on the household, I can stay. I do bring in a bit more than Michael at the moment.”
Michael stuck his tongue out. “Only because artists are underappreciated in this society.”
“And what do you think is a chef?”
“Menial labor.”
They play-growled at each other and Sam laughed at their hijinks. Emma watched.
Somehow they made it through dinner, Emma stealing sips from Emily’s glass of liquor, and being nearly aggressively polite to Mrs. Prentiss.
“Why don’t you bring in the pies?” Matt suggested to the kids. They disappeared down the stairs into the kitchen, and Emma stole another sip of whiskey.
Mrs. Prentiss made a disgusted face. “You tell me you’re not lovers, and then you throw it blatantly in my face.”
“You want blatant?” Emily hissed at her, and Emma suddenly wished she knew exactly how much she had drank, because this wasn’t normal. “I can give you blatant!” And suddenly she was straddling Emma’s lap. “She only fucked me once, but I suppose I ought to repay the favor, right?”
She leaned in and bit down hard on Emma’s neck. Emma thought this was amazing fun. No one got molested at her family dinner parties until after dessert, people usually just stormed out or collapsed in the pudding. She cupped Emily’s ass and squeezed, exploiting the opportunity.
Emily sat back, giving her a dirty grin, then quickly leaned back in and caught her lips. She tasted like Jack and Emma pressed her cheek to open her mouth and allow more access.
Elizabeth stood up, her chair scraping across the floor. “I won’t be witness to this!” And she stormed out.
Emily pressed her face against Emma’s shoulder. “Is she really gone?”
The door slammed shut.
“I think so.”
“Thank god.” Emily looked up, biting her lower lip, eyes wide. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
* * *
8: He will not smile for anyone
Author: Alsike
Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds x-over
Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss
Rating: R
AN/Disclaimer: Not my girls.
Apologies: Better title, and possible short mix! (I should probably edit the whole thing too, but no, I will just blame it on the flu.)
Summary: Sometimes the plans you make have a chance to become real. What if what you thought you wanted isn't enough?
“I want you to stay away from my mother.”
Emma turned around, rather shocked to see Susan standing by her desk. “What?”
“My mother’s a bad liar. She said there was nothing between you. I believed her when she said you don’t get along. I saw you argue at the football match. But I don’t think that’s all.”
Emma very carefully did not let her eyes slide over to where she had taken the girl’s mother on her desk. “I think your mother is a very attractive woman,” she said, carefully. “I think your family is even more interesting, because of how non-traditional it is, and yet how functional it remains. I don’t mind not being allowed to see your mother, but I do remember that you and Sam were very distressed when I stopped coming over to see you.”
“You can see her,” Susan clarified petulantly. “You just can’t fall in love with her.”
Emma blinked. “And what makes you think I would do that? I don’t usually make a habit of falling in love with my student’s parents.”
“I don’t know if there’s a reason why you would or why you wouldn’t. But you belong to us, so you can’t belong to mom.”
Emma smiled lazily. “So it’s alright if I sleep with her. I just can’t choose her over you?”
“You can’t sleep with her either.”
“No?”
“It’s gross. Teachers shouldn’t have sex.”
Emma just shook her head. “The administration generally agrees with you.”
* * *
Susan had clearly forgotten one of the principals she taught in her relationships module. “Forbidden fruit is all the sweeter for being forbidden.” But Emily had always been forbidden to her, perhaps it was more alluring from the other side.
It was getting into November, chilly, but it wasn’t likely to snow. Being from Boston, Emma missed the snow sometimes. She knew that if it did snow she would likely become exasperated with it very quickly. But she allowed herself a little hypocrisy, and stared up at the grey clouds over the playing fields.
After school she often stayed in her classroom grading, or working on her lessons. She glanced up and saw Emily leaning on the doorframe, watching her.
“I think your daughter would not approve if she saw what you were doing right now.”
Emily gave a low laugh. “She let you know?”
“Very firmly.” Emma wriggled her eyebrows suggestively. “Right here, in fact.”
“That must have been thrilling.”
“Oh it was. I love having eleven year olds trying to dictate my sex life.”
“You get used to it.”
“It seems to me that you’re doing a bit of rule breaking.”
Emily chuckled. “Actually, I’m here with the full knowledge and permission of my offspring. Um, Thanksgiving’s this Thursday.”
“Is it? I generally find it irrelevant now that I live in a country that has no such tradition.”
Emily nodded. “Yeah. Michael had a very difficult time figuring out what it was, but my mother likes to remind me that I am still an American citizen and I ‘should respect that.’” Emily imitated her mockingly. “Matt likes to cook for it anyways. And you’re an ex-pat. Would you like to come? On Saturday. It’s hard to have a holiday on a weekday in a country that lacks it.”
Emma cocked her head. “Is your mother going to be there?”
Emily cringed. “Don’t remind me.”
“I really would say no. Except… I kind of desperately want to witness your mother at a family dinner now that she knows.”
“I don’t.”
“Well, the fact that you know me at all is rather her fault. I don’t think I can pass it up.”
“I just hope having company might put her on her best behavior.”
“So manipulative.” Emma couldn’t stop grinning. Emily looked to be in general despair. “And don’t pout like that. It makes me want to suck on your bottom lip, and I believe your daughter would disapprove.”
Emily laughed and moved to depart the classroom. “Alright, around one?”
Emma nodded and went back to work.
* * *
She brought Jack. It was a suitably American offering, and from Emily’s comment at the band concert, she thought it would be appreciated.
It was.
Emily met her at the door and took it right out of her hand, pouring herself a tumbler and drinking it in one gulp. “You are a genius.”
Emma just laughed.
Elizabeth Prentiss was holding court in the living room. Sam was sitting stiffly on the other chair, watching his feet dangle unhappily. Matt had been down in the kitchen, basting, and greeted Emma with a smile. Michael and Susan were nowhere to be seen.
“Mom, this is Emma Frost, Sam and Susan’s teacher.”
Elizabeth gave her a cool look and held out her hand, more to bow over than to shake. Emma matched her look. She wasn’t at all outclassed. She ignored the hand and nodded.
Sam leapt up at the sight of her and actually hugged her around the waist, which had most definitely never happened before.
“Ms. Frost! Ms. Frost. Will you come upstairs? I want to show you something!”
Emma allowed herself to be led, shrugging her helplessness to Emily’s despairing glance.
Up in Sam’s room, he collapsed on the bed and didn’t seem to want to show her anything.
“How has it been with your grandmother here?” Emma asked him.
“Awful,” he said blandly. “Mom and Gran won’t stop fighting, and they fight in that posh way where no one admits that they’re being mean or that they’re mad when they really are.”
Emma knew that method well. There was snappishness coming from downstairs.
“No she is not my girlfriend. The kids love her, excessively. Try to be civil.”
Susan peeked into the room. “You came!” she exclaimed, and hugged Emma as well.
“I think I was invited as a buffer. I probably shouldn’t hide up here the entire time.”
Sam sat up. “But let me show you the comic book I’m making first!”
Susan also exclaimed her intention to show Emma something, and ran off to fetch it.
When dinner was served, Michael was discovered in the dining room, finishing off a set of personalized and attractive place cards. Matt emerged from the kitchen to carve, and Emily was clearly on her way to being soused.
Most of the adults had wine in their wine glasses (Matt and the kids had apple cider) but Emily had hers half-full of a suspicious dark liquid.
“Don’t you want to cut that with something?”
Emily gave her a narrow look and pulled the glass to her chest. “Don’t touch.”
“So, Ms. Frost,” Elizabeth began. “How did you end up at our family party?” She gave her a suspicious look.
Emma smiled and cocked her head. “I think it’s mainly because I’m an American, and your daughter took pity on me for being so far from home.”
“I see. What brought you to England?”
“I wanted to be as far as possible from the remains of my family. I tried French Equatorial Africa, but decided I preferred an English speaking locale.”
“You don’t speak a foreign language?”
“A few, but I prefer to live in English. And I’m more employable in English as well.”
“You teach at my grandchildren’s school.”
“Yes.”
“And are they good students?”
“They are two of my best.”
“They haven’t shown any… adverse effects?”
Emma played dumb. “Of what?”
Elizabeth formed her lips into a thin line. She turned away from Emma. “I see you’re not drinking Matthew. No doubt your parents would be pleased.”
“I’m also not going to church. I think they might not be so happy about that.”
“I suppose not. Would it be rude of me to inquire about your plans? Surely you’re not planning on staying here permanently.”
Matt smiled stiffly. “Why not? Your daughter did me a great kindness by giving me a chance to prove that I was healthy, but she has told me that as long as I stay healthy and am not a burden on the household, I can stay. I do bring in a bit more than Michael at the moment.”
Michael stuck his tongue out. “Only because artists are underappreciated in this society.”
“And what do you think is a chef?”
“Menial labor.”
They play-growled at each other and Sam laughed at their hijinks. Emma watched.
Somehow they made it through dinner, Emma stealing sips from Emily’s glass of liquor, and being nearly aggressively polite to Mrs. Prentiss.
“Why don’t you bring in the pies?” Matt suggested to the kids. They disappeared down the stairs into the kitchen, and Emma stole another sip of whiskey.
Mrs. Prentiss made a disgusted face. “You tell me you’re not lovers, and then you throw it blatantly in my face.”
“You want blatant?” Emily hissed at her, and Emma suddenly wished she knew exactly how much she had drank, because this wasn’t normal. “I can give you blatant!” And suddenly she was straddling Emma’s lap. “She only fucked me once, but I suppose I ought to repay the favor, right?”
She leaned in and bit down hard on Emma’s neck. Emma thought this was amazing fun. No one got molested at her family dinner parties until after dessert, people usually just stormed out or collapsed in the pudding. She cupped Emily’s ass and squeezed, exploiting the opportunity.
Emily sat back, giving her a dirty grin, then quickly leaned back in and caught her lips. She tasted like Jack and Emma pressed her cheek to open her mouth and allow more access.
Elizabeth stood up, her chair scraping across the floor. “I won’t be witness to this!” And she stormed out.
Emily pressed her face against Emma’s shoulder. “Is she really gone?”
The door slammed shut.
“I think so.”
“Thank god.” Emily looked up, biting her lower lip, eyes wide. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
* * *
8: He will not smile for anyone