[fic] christmas in july; revenge, emily/jack; pg13
title; rating: christmas in july; pg13
fandom, pairing; count: revenge, emily/jack, nolan; 725
notes: a late gift for my advent fic for oresteia
It's a word that tips him off.
They're at the Stowaway, the lot of them, and Emily is tired of whispering, "she's not who you think she is," into Jack's ear, so she simply swallows another sip of wine and waits for the night to be over.
Jack's words to her on the last occasion still sting with their unintended irony: She's been through a lot, but she's still the same person, Emily. And I care about her. So just... drop it, please?
If she's going to get through the night, trying to ignore Amanda leaning over the bar and reaching out for Jack every time he passes by, she's going to need a stiffer drink.
Next to her, Nolan leans his back against the bar in that lazy way of his, a scowl hidden beneath the smirk on his lips.
"Your little friend is getting on my nerves," he whispers into her ear.
Emily shoots him a look, her jaw set.
"You have absolutely no idea."
Nolan laughs.
"Oh, I think I do."
-
Jack's throwing darts, a rare moment when he takes a break between clearing the nearby tables, and Emily sneaks up behind him.
Heckling of all forms is prohibited in a proper game of darts, but her belly is full of expensive wine, and in casual game-play, the practice is commonplace among friends.
"Fiddlesticks," Emily whispers against his ear just as he's about to throw, her lips brushing against him.
As soon as she says the word, a memory flashes before her. They're just kids, and it's the Stowaway's annual Christmas in July celebration, tacky Christmas decorations and carols playing, kids welcome for this particular night of fun, and she's on tiptoes behind him, the same word causing him to miss the board entirely.
This time, Jack gets a bulls-eye.
-
There's no one they know nearby, and they're lost in the crowd anyway, when Jack grabs Emily by the wrist and pulls her into a storage closet on that end of the bar.
"What are you doing, Jack?" Emily is startled, but instantly knows the reason he has dragged her here.
He remembers too.
She takes a step back into the wall behind her and Jack is pressed against her then. "Just... let me," he says.
Amanda's hands slide up his chest, pushing forcefully enough to put a barrier between them, but deliberately not enough to push him off.
He leans close, his mouth almost brushing against hers when he says it, a gruff question in his voice.
"Amanda?"
Emily closes her eyes and then opens them again. She gives a stiff nod and Jack crushes his lips to hers.
-
Impulses are to be avoided at all costs, and can be deadly if one is not careful.
This is true in life, and in the careful execution of vengeance.
Emily knows this.
She also knows the feel of Jack's hands at her waist, the tiny nibble he gives her neck, and the way he looks at her before sliding her panties down her legs and pressing inside of her, the sounds he makes at the back of his throat whenever she touches him.
And once she knows that, there's no going back.
She tells him everything from the hull of the Amanda. Inside the belly of the vessel, wrapped in his arms, she feels cocooned and safe. Though she knows she'll feel differently once she's back on dry land, she can't seem to stop herself.
They laugh about Nolan and the part he's been playing in all of this, his strange devotion to the both of them, his fashion sense, how he has all the money in the world but no real friends... and then they both get quiet.
"I'd rather have him on your side than against it," Jack says gravely.
Emily wrinkles her nose, slides a hand over Jack's stubble. "That's for sure," she agrees.
-
She expected judgment.
She expected lectures and speeches and convincing.
What she gets is completely different.
Jack holds her hand as they walk away from the docks that morning, just after dawn, no one else around.
"When all of this is through..." he starts.
"Jack," Emily tries to stop him. To tell him that whatever he's about to say is not necessary, but he continues on.
"When all of this is through, maybe we could go somewhere? Set sail on the Amanda, go wherever the winds carry us?"
Emily looks down at the dock, a grin tugging at one corner of her mouth.
"That would be..." she nods. "That would be perfect."
-fin
fandom, pairing; count: revenge, emily/jack, nolan; 725
notes: a late gift for my advent fic for oresteia
It's a word that tips him off.
They're at the Stowaway, the lot of them, and Emily is tired of whispering, "she's not who you think she is," into Jack's ear, so she simply swallows another sip of wine and waits for the night to be over.
Jack's words to her on the last occasion still sting with their unintended irony: She's been through a lot, but she's still the same person, Emily. And I care about her. So just... drop it, please?
If she's going to get through the night, trying to ignore Amanda leaning over the bar and reaching out for Jack every time he passes by, she's going to need a stiffer drink.
Next to her, Nolan leans his back against the bar in that lazy way of his, a scowl hidden beneath the smirk on his lips.
"Your little friend is getting on my nerves," he whispers into her ear.
Emily shoots him a look, her jaw set.
"You have absolutely no idea."
Nolan laughs.
"Oh, I think I do."
-
Jack's throwing darts, a rare moment when he takes a break between clearing the nearby tables, and Emily sneaks up behind him.
Heckling of all forms is prohibited in a proper game of darts, but her belly is full of expensive wine, and in casual game-play, the practice is commonplace among friends.
"Fiddlesticks," Emily whispers against his ear just as he's about to throw, her lips brushing against him.
As soon as she says the word, a memory flashes before her. They're just kids, and it's the Stowaway's annual Christmas in July celebration, tacky Christmas decorations and carols playing, kids welcome for this particular night of fun, and she's on tiptoes behind him, the same word causing him to miss the board entirely.
This time, Jack gets a bulls-eye.
-
There's no one they know nearby, and they're lost in the crowd anyway, when Jack grabs Emily by the wrist and pulls her into a storage closet on that end of the bar.
"What are you doing, Jack?" Emily is startled, but instantly knows the reason he has dragged her here.
He remembers too.
She takes a step back into the wall behind her and Jack is pressed against her then. "Just... let me," he says.
Amanda's hands slide up his chest, pushing forcefully enough to put a barrier between them, but deliberately not enough to push him off.
He leans close, his mouth almost brushing against hers when he says it, a gruff question in his voice.
"Amanda?"
Emily closes her eyes and then opens them again. She gives a stiff nod and Jack crushes his lips to hers.
-
Impulses are to be avoided at all costs, and can be deadly if one is not careful.
This is true in life, and in the careful execution of vengeance.
Emily knows this.
She also knows the feel of Jack's hands at her waist, the tiny nibble he gives her neck, and the way he looks at her before sliding her panties down her legs and pressing inside of her, the sounds he makes at the back of his throat whenever she touches him.
And once she knows that, there's no going back.
She tells him everything from the hull of the Amanda. Inside the belly of the vessel, wrapped in his arms, she feels cocooned and safe. Though she knows she'll feel differently once she's back on dry land, she can't seem to stop herself.
They laugh about Nolan and the part he's been playing in all of this, his strange devotion to the both of them, his fashion sense, how he has all the money in the world but no real friends... and then they both get quiet.
"I'd rather have him on your side than against it," Jack says gravely.
Emily wrinkles her nose, slides a hand over Jack's stubble. "That's for sure," she agrees.
-
She expected judgment.
She expected lectures and speeches and convincing.
What she gets is completely different.
Jack holds her hand as they walk away from the docks that morning, just after dawn, no one else around.
"When all of this is through..." he starts.
"Jack," Emily tries to stop him. To tell him that whatever he's about to say is not necessary, but he continues on.
"When all of this is through, maybe we could go somewhere? Set sail on the Amanda, go wherever the winds carry us?"
Emily looks down at the dock, a grin tugging at one corner of her mouth.
"That would be..." she nods. "That would be perfect."
-fin