Danny Zuko 2
Title: Danny Zuko was a Hot Chick (part 2 of 20)
Author: Alsike
Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds x-over
Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss
Rating: NC-17 (Not this chapter, but generally)
AN/Disclaimer: Not my girls.
Word Count: 2098
Citrus Taste Summer Battle Prompt #16. Under Water
Apologies: I’m going to attempt to post these in chronological order, but I may not always succeed. Either way, they should stand on their own pretty well. And OH GOD this is adolescent. I'm so sorry.
Emily dove into the pool. The cool water was a relief from the unrelenting Sacramento heat, and the first tennis lesson had been hell. Thank god their instructor was a no-nonsense elderly woman though, and even Emma wasn’t about to hit on that. She did try to wheedle her around to just saying that they had had a lesson, so they could go swimming instead of running around on the hot cement courts, but she would have none of it.
“Your parents are paying good money for these lessons. I expect you both to have mastered the basics of tennis by the end of our sessions!”
Emily cringed for different reasons. She liked chess. She even wasn’t bad at certain martial arts (bare handed was preferable) and archery was also something she enjoyed. But sports were really not her thing. She tripped over the ball in soccer, ran the wrong direction in basketball, and according to one of her injured friends turned anything with a racket into a martial art. He had been holding his bloody nose at the time. She had been apologizing.
“It’s not like he doesn’t have money to burn,” she heard Emma mutter, but it wasn’t loud enough for the instructor to catch.
They were taught how to hold their rackets and then the instructor hit them gentle easy balls, which they were supposed to tap back over the net. Emily seemed to have two options: hit the net and over the fence. Every time she hit it over the fence the instructor made her run to get it, and would yell at her if she tried to slack off, so after a while Emily just hit them all into the net. It was safer.
Emma found her incompetence highly amusing. The instructor yelled at her a few times for not doing what she was told (Emily always did what she was told. It just didn’t work for her.) but she managed to keep the ball in the court at least, which was highly unfair. By the end of the lesson she was hardly sweating and Emily’s shirt was soaked.
In the locker room Emma flashed her a grin, which was a first. She hadn’t even spoken to her on their way in. She glanced her up and down and Emily knew she was a mess, and the grin turned into a little more of a smirk. “Race you to the pool,” she said. “You look like you need it.”
Emily had to go upstairs to get her swimsuit, but she was still the first in the pool. Emma had gotten distracted and was trying to flirt with one of the cabana boys again. She didn’t look like she had just gone through an hour and a half tennis ordeal. Emily floated on her back in the pool telling herself that she really didn’t care. But she floated in that direction anyways.
“Come on, give me your room number, I’ll bring you something special.”
Emma gave an incredulous laugh. “I don’t think so. I’m sharing with my baby sister.”
“She can watch.”
Emma made a sound that sounded like demurral. “How about you tell me how to find you?”
“Call room service. Ask for Manuel.” He sounded amused. “Then I’ll know your room number.”
Emma gave a huff. “Oh well, if you don’t want me to call… I’d love to get out of this hotel, see some of the nightlife.”
There was scratching, like Manuel was writing down his phone number. “I’m off this Friday. Give me a call. Bring a friend if you want.”
Emily pushed off the wall and swam underwater across the pool. When she surfaced Emma was sitting on the edge, feet in the water, looking down at her.
“You look almost human now.”
“Fuck off,” Emily muttered. She hoisted herself up to sit next to him. Then she frowned, glancing at Emma. “You going to call him?”
Emma snorted. “Not likely.”
“You never give them your room number, do you?”
Emma shook her head. “I don’t give them my last name. Not that they usually ask.”
“You’re a bit of a tease, aren't you?”
Emma frowned at her. “You think I should put out? To Manuel? A waiter? He’s like thirty. Clearly he did not make great life choices. You think he’s a catch?”
Emily snorted. “No. But why do you even talk to them if you aren’t interested?”
Emma looked at her feet through the ripples of the pool. “I want to know that they want me.”
Emily blinked, surprised at the honest answer. “Oh.”
“Don’t you ever want that? It’s nice to know that someone finds you attractive.” She gave Emily a sidelong glance. “Or do you just assume that nobody does?”
Wordlessly, Emily shoved her into the pool. She shrieked. It was satisfying.
“I wasn’t saying that you ought to!” Emma yelped, and splashed Emily. It was nice and cooling. She climbed back out of the pool. “You just act like you don’t want people to look at you. Probably because you think they won’t like what they see. Which is… not true.”
Daniela had said that before. It was unpleasant to hear it out of the mouth of a girl who hit on waiters for self-validation. “Even if they look at you, it doesn’t mean they like you. They think you’re a kid that they might get to fuck,” Emily snapped at her.
“It’s better than nothing, which is what you get. I bet you’ve never had a boyfriend.”
“Have you had a boyfriend?” Emily asked, incredulous. “How old are you?”
“Fourteen.”
Emily snorted. “Jailbait.”
“Shut up.”
“If you have a boyfriend why do you hit on waiters?”
“I never said I have a boyfriend. I just said you don’t. Which you didn’t deny.”
“Don’t you have friends that can tell you you’re pretty, or, whatever it is you need to know?”
“Friends?” Emma frowned.
“You don’t have friends?” Emily squeaked out.
“I have plenty of friends,” Emma snapped. “Just… none that I would ask for help if I were drowning. Bitches.”
“Sorry.”
“Fuck off.” Emma kicked the water as if considering getting back in and swimming away. “You have friends.”
“Not a lot. And I move often. The good ones… maybe I hear from them three times a year. But I know I could ask for help if I were drowning, and they were, you know, not thousands of miles away.”
Emma harrumphed. “Any good at teaching the skill?”
“How to make friends?” Emily shrugged. “Be yourself. If they’re worth it, they’ll deal.”
Emma snorted. “Even my brother has stopped telling me that one. My ‘self’ is selfish and bitchy and manipulative. I wouldn't want to be friends with anyone who would be friends with me.”
“Groucho Marx.”
“Huh?”
“Well, sort of.” Emma looked blank, but Emily wasn’t going to explain the reference. “We should swim.”
She slipped off the ledge and Emma followed her in.
Emily opened her eyes underwater, ignoring the sting to watch Emma move through the pool. She was someone who was hard to see above water. The undeniable force of her personality distracted you from looking because you were too busy reacting, trying to stay on top of the debate. She had been flushed and slightly tousled from the tennis, laughing at her, and pretty, and Emily had hated her for it. She didn’t hate her as much now. In a way that made it worse, because now she noticed pale skin, long legs, bitter flashing eyes, and her sullen brutal mouth.
She ran out of air and pushed off the bottom, coming up with a splash and a gasp, scraping her hair out of her face and then rubbing her eyes to stop the stinging. Emma paddled over to her.
“Come on, those guys said they’ll let us play.”
Emily glanced over to the two boys with the pool volleyball net. “Are you serious? You know how much I suck at sports.”
“It’ll be funny.” Emma grinned. “Your face, when you screw up, is awesome.”
Emily splashed her.
They were actually just kids, not Emma’s usual prey, thirteen at the most and decidedly geeky. And Emma was good enough at the game to keep them from losing too miserably from the start. And Emily only made a fool of herself three or four times. Then, of course, the long haired boy said, “first to three, loser pays a forfeit!”
Emma agreed before Emily could stop her. She knew that her supreme klutziness was just waiting to come out, which it did. The ball hit her in the head and she nearly drowned, losing them the last point. She came up sputtering and Emma was too busy laughing at her to care. “Claim your forfeit,” she managed, still laughing.
The boys quickly started deliberating. Then two older boys came over, tanned and sun bleached hair, splashing the younger ones, brothers it seemed. “Dude,” the one with the good chest said. “Make them make out. It’ll be hot.”
The smaller of the boys looked hesitant, but the long-haired one grinned. “Yeah, make out.”
“Really?” Emma asked, her voice taking on that quality that Emily could already identify as her hard-to-get mode. “You’d rather we kiss each other than you?”
The long-haired boy suddenly looked unsure. “Wait…” The two older boys were laughing.
“Too late to change your mind,” Emma said with a grin, and splashed towards Emily.
“Hey…” Emily backed away, but too soon found the side of the pool against her back
“Come on. Before the hot ones get bored.”
Emily made a strangled noise of protest, but Emma cupped her face in both hands. “Hold still and let me do this.” She leaned in, and caught Emily’s lower lip in her mouth, dragging her teeth across the inside. Emily made a sound and then wished she hadn’t. But Emma was kissing her now, properly, and Emily kissed back because she could. Her mouth tasted like chlorine and her back was cool where Emily’s hands slid up it. She didn’t kiss like Daniela at all. Daniela liked lazy soft kisses, wet and hot. Emma kissed hard, with her teeth, and was precise, planned, and defensive, and Emily had never been quite this turned on by just a kiss, particularly not one that was just a show. Emma’s hands had moved into her hair, tangling in the wet locks, holding so tightly it hurt, and Emily’s hands slid down to her ass, hoisting her up just enough so she didn’t have to pull so hard for the angle, and she felt more than heard the little growl that Emma made in her chest. And then she pulled away.
Emily didn’t want to let her go, but she couldn’t show that. It would be humiliating. She slowly dropped her down until her feet touched bottom, not far, as the younger girl was taller than her. Emma was watching her with an odd expression on her face. “You’re good at that.”
Emily couldn’t meet her eyes. “I’ve had practice,” she muttered, and didn’t notice the momentary look of something unpleasant that flashed in Emma’s eyes. She glanced back over to the boys. The older ones grinned and one flashed two thumbs up before they wandered off towards some older girls. The smaller of the young ones scowled. “You enjoyed that too much for it to be a forfeit.”
“Hey, you wanted it,” Emma snarked back.
“Rematch!” demanded the long-haired one.
Emily shook her head and pushed herself up out of the pool. “I’m going back upstairs,” she said. “Sorry.”
She left and went back to the room she shared with her mother and took a shower. Half way through she leaned forward, clenching her fists and pressing them against the tile wall. “Fuck!” she hissed, tipping her head up into the hard spray, trying to pound away the bad thoughts in her head. “It's always the straight girls, idiot.”
She checked the time when she got out of the shower. Her mom wouldn't be back for at least an hour and a half. She didn’t bother to get dressed, just crawled naked into bed and jerked off until she could finally think about something else.
Unfortunately, when her mother did come back, she told Emily that they were going out to dinner with the Frost family, and it was a little awkward sitting across the table from someone she had just masturbated while thinking about. But Christian, that lovely boy, had brought a flask and shared it around, and Emily proceeded, without a second thought, to get drunk.
Part 3