Bicker
Title: Bicker pt 5
Author: Alsike
Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds x-over
Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss
Rating: NC-17 (in general)
AN/Disclaimer: Not my girls.
Word Count: 2481
Prompt: None for this section.
Apologies: And more of the Princeton Eating Club AU! If you don't know what Eating Clubs are, think Hellfire Club for college students. Bicker is the system for picking new members to let into the club.
I'm not certain if this is plot, but it's clearly not smut, so it must be plot. It might be just one semi-disaster happening after another. AUs really screw with my historical anachronism sensitivity. So assume them as college age in around 2004, however difficult that may be.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Mix
Emma sat perched on the edge of the sink letting Emily scrub her face with a damp paper towel.
“You’re a mess.”
Emma snorted. “You say that like you weren’t the one to start it.”
Emily shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t think you’d mind.”
Emma stared at her. Was she really that insecure about topping? She groaned and caught Emily’s face, forcing her to meet her gaze. “Yes, I wanted to fuck you. You have to know that you’re disgustingly hot. Do you think I usually come that fast?”
The tops of Emily’s cheeks were bright and hot. Emma had to look away before the broad smile spread embarrassingly across her face.
She kicked her feet and pouted as Emily smoothly reapplied her lipstick. It was so much hotter when she did it for her. She could get used to this, she thought. Even being with her all the time, her randomly showing up after classes, didn’t feel like stalking like it did when desperate boys would follow her.
Emma had never wanted to be owned by anyone, couldn’t understand the friend who just wanted to find someone and get married. Didn’t she have any real goals? Emma had inquired brutally. Didn't she want to do something, not waste the entirety of her life running after an unappreciative family? Neither of them had really understood each other. Emma knew from her parents and her sister that tying yourself to someone was always a mistake, one that usually wrecked a good chunk of your life. But it was also incidental. When you decided to take someone you added him to your train as you kept thrusting forward towards your real goals. If his goal was drinking alcohol and taking Valium then there weren’t any problems. If his goals were at cross-purposes to yours, then you destroyed him, like her sister had destroyed her husband. Why you would look for this, as your only dream in life, was a complete mystery to Emma.
But this wasn’t related to those troubles and dangers. Emily very carefully kept their interactions proscribed to a certain realm, a fantasy realm, Emma thought it, and smiled. It was as if she sat dutifully in class, paying attention, pursuing excellence, and when she stepped out she could lose herself in a daydream. And if the daydream involved being possessed, controlled and cared for, it didn’t matter. It was just a dream. And as soon as she got rid of that rule about sleeping in handcuffs it would be a really good one.
“When are you heading to dinner?” Emma inquired absently. She didn't like to go to the club alone. Although the other sophomores were friendly enough, the upperclassmen treated her like an intruder. But if Emily was with her they were scrupulously polite. When one hadn’t been, Emily had only looked confused, and yet the boy had been so embarrassed by her curious disapproval, that he had apologized and left quickly, metaphorical tail between his legs.
Emily blinked and looked at her watch. “It’s Thursday, I usually go to Quad on Thursdays.”
Emma stared at her for a moment, a little hurt but more taken aback. “You’re eating at Quad?”
“Um,” Emily gave Emma a bewildered look. “Yeah?”
“Why?”
“I have friends there?” That probably wasn’t supposed to be a question.
“Oookay, I’m dining hall-ing it tonight, I guess,” Emma said, pressing her lips tightly together.
“Um…” Emily seemed tentative but not in the way that suggested she was making a polite lie. “You could come with me? It’s chocolate volcano cake night.”
* * *
“Emily!” A tall black girl was waving from one of the tables. Tables in the basement Emma reminded herself. Apparently Quad members dined below stairs. It was just another sign of the differences between bicker clubs and sign in clubs. No tablecloths either. The buffet line was too long, but it wasn’t as cramped and skuzzy as Terrace. They could at least afford servers to refill the vats.
Emily hugged the girl. The girl greeted her enthusiastically, and then her eyes slid over to Emma. Emma crossed her arms and tried not to look pathetic and out of place.
Emily palmed the back of her neck. “Ro, this is Emma… a friend from … the club.”
Ro inclined her head, and Emma nodded stiffly back. She didn’t like the way the girl was eyeing her. “Well, come on. We’re over here.”
The table was in the corner, between the bathrooms and the bar. A dark haired girl, wearing tinted sunglasses was already there, typing on her half-size laptop and ignoring her tray. Ro disappeared for a moment and then came out from the bar area with a handful of beers.
“On tap tonight.” She grinned and handed one to Emily and put one down next to the typing girl. Then she held one out for Emma and pulled it out of reach just as she moved to take it. “You’re a sophomore, right? Twenty-one yet?”
Emma stiffened and looked away.
“Ro,” Emily admonished.
Ro tapped Emma on the head with the bottle and put it down next to her. “Just teasing.”
Emma wasn’t about to forgive her for it.
“She’s nineteen. One eighteen eighty-four, ” said the girl with the computer. Emma looked at her sharply. She had never seen her before, much less knew her well enough to exchange birthdays.
Emily gave her a soft glance. “That’s young for a sophomore.”
Emma ignored her. She shouldn’t have come. It was clear she wasn’t welcome here.
After collecting food it was only worse. She just tried to focus on eating, while Ro and Emily were talking. Then they switched languages and her ears perked up.
“Kanojouwa doushite isshouni kitaka? Skiatteiru?”
Emily turned red. “Chotto… ma… muzukashii.”
“Hontouni? Antano taipu janaidaroune?”
“Kurabuwa… atashini ageta deshou.”
“Kurabu cara moratta? Mochiron, houa mitai.” She said it with a little slighting derisive flick of her eyes and Emma had had enough.
“If you’re going to talk shit about me, why don’t you use vocab a first year couldn’t understand,” she snapped. “And if I’m such a whore and ‘not her type’ then ask her why she can’t keep her hands off of me, all right?” She shoved her chair out as she stood up. “Go fuck yourself,” she said, flipped her tray over and stormed out.
* * *
“You didn’t mention that she takes Japanese.” Ro glared at Emily.
“You didn’t really give me an opportunity,” Emily snipped back. “Before you started in on her.”
“What was I supposed to do? You come with this girl in tow, and say she’s with the club, who would rather shoot their own foot then ever set foot out of their own elitist little clique, and I assume she’s some sort of spy keeping tabs on you. It’s not like she tried to be friendly. Why should I?”
“Because she’s with me!”
Ro gave her a long suspicious look. “You are fucking her, aren’t you?”
Emily let out a frustrated groan. “Of course I’m fucking her, and I can’t tell you why, but you can guess that I wouldn’t have been her first choice, if she had any choice in the matter.”
“If she had any choice? God, Emily. How do you get yourself into all this kinky shit?”
“I just do, okay. And she doesn’t deserve this. Everyone thinks she’s a whore, but she is not a whore, she just has enough self-esteem not to bend over and take it when bitches like Jeanie and Betsy want to play despot. So shut up about things you don’t understand.”
Ro didn’t speak, and Emily eyed her trepidatiously. She was sitting back in her chair, a raised eyebrow presenting a sarcastic inquiry. “You like her, don’t you?”
Emily glowered. “Shut up.”
“Oh, no way. Anyway, I think I was wrong about her not being your type. Out of your… two and a half girlfriends, all of them have been bitches. You’re clearly just staying in the same department.”
Emily snorted. “If that’s the case, then I have no idea why I’ve never dated you.”
* * *
“Hey.”
Emma didn’t look up from her book, open on the pillow of the futon.
“I’m… sorry about that. Ro isn’t usually that much of a bitch.”
Emma just tightened her lips. You could have defended me, she didn't say.
“Anyways, I’m glad you’re here.” Emily bent down and set something on the pillow near her. She stroked Emma’s hair, just once, on her way back up. Emma was not about to let it make her feel affectionate.
But the package smelled like chocolate.
Emily dropped onto her bed with a groan and messed about with papers, then put on her headphones and to all appearances, went to sleep.
Emma, with the end of her pencil, very carefully lifted the paper napkin covering the object. Chocolate indeed. It would be a shame to let chocolate go to waste, she concluded, and ventured a sally with the included fork. The gooey interior oozed out and pooled on the edge of the plate.
It was still warm.
* * *
(Japanese conversation:
Ro: Why’d this girl come with you? Are you dating?
Emily: It’s a little… well… difficult to explain.
Ro: Really? She’s not really your type, is she?
Emily: The club sort of gave her to me.
Ro: You got her from the club? No wonder. She looks like a whore.)
* * *
Emma was supposed to be in Econ, but the class was filing out and Emily hadn’t spotted her yet. She saw Brittany though and waved.
“Hey, is Emma in there?”
Brittany grinned at her, but shook her head. “She went to see the professor. We got our tests back today and she had ‘see me’ written on hers and no grade. It was sort of weird.” She cocked her head to the side. “I copied all her answers and I got an A.”
Emily cringed slightly. “Are they in there?”
“No. They went back to his office.”
That was bad news. She really didn’t want to run into Brandberg and have him try and suck up to her so she might mention him to her parents. He was so desperately trying to get back into politics.
Emily made her way to his office and leaned against the wall, waiting. It felt a bit stalkerish, but she didn’t have that unerring ability to just appear in the right place out of nowhere that Selene had seemed to. It was as if she always knew right when Emily had glanced around and thought, just for a moment, that she might be safe.
There was a sound from the office, like a pile of books falling on the floor, and Emily pricked up her ears.
“Hey! Don’t-“
The door banged open and Emma ran past her, her lipstick smeared like chalk on her face. Emily grabbed her arm and she spun, striking out and hitting Emily in the chest.
“God! Not you!”
“What happened?”
Emma covered her mouth, but it was far too late. “I didn’t… don’t punish me. I didn’t kiss him.”
“He kissed you?” For a moment Emily couldn’t even make herself believe it. It just did not compute in her head. “He kissed you.”
The disgust was overwhelming, disgust, and anger, and something that was entirely selfishness. Emily went hard. She pushed a protesting Emma to the side and walked straight into the office. The professor was cringing into a hand mirror and trying to wipe the white of his mouth.
“Oh! Um, Emily, right? Emily Prentiss?”
“I’m so glad you remember me,” Emily said flatly, her eyes narrowed. “Because when you’re fired and you have no friends and all your bragging rights about having been in government are gone, think about me, and remember that I was the one who took it from you.”
He laughed. “What’s all this about?”
Emily just glared. He stared at her for a moment and his eyes slowly widened as he realized what she must have seen.
“The girl kissed me! She made a move on me!”
Emily shook her head. “I don’t think you understand. When you take a student into your office, for whatever purpose, you are the one responsible for what happens there. And what were you thinking? When you pick a girl to cultivate, you pick someone vulnerable, without support, who’s a little out of her depth and reaching out for help. You don’t pick a girl from the club, and you particularly don’t pick mine.”
He stared. “Yours?”
“Haven’t you been paying attention?” He had been a member once. He should know better than this. “Emma is mine.”
“I… I didn’t know.”
Emily shook her head and rummaged around for her phone. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over for you.”
“Because of that little whore?”
“She’s my whore! That white gunk on your face should tip you off that someone’s interested in who she’s kissing!”
Emily stepped in and caught the top of his fine twill slacks, gave them a sharp enough jerk that the button popped off, and pulled them down. She flipped open her phone and took a picture, then turned around, and walked out.
“Hi, mom?”
Emma was in front of her, stopping her with a flat hand. “I don’t need your help.”
“Hold on for a second, please?”
“I can deal with this myself!” Emma snapped at her.
Emily gave her a hard look. “Do whatever you want to do to him. But you’re not going to stop me. It’s not just for you.”
Emma stormed out.
“Mom? Thanks for waiting. I’m fine, but I need a favor.”
* * *
Emma was in her bed when Emily got back to her room, the covers pulled up half over her head.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” Emma mumbled. “Is it done?”
Emily looked away. “I was thinking… because it’s pizza night at the club again… Do you want to eat somewhere else?”
Emma looked at her with narrow distrustful eyes. “Like Quad?”
Emily smiled, still humiliated by that debacle. “Like Ajihei?” she suggested, naming the best sushi restaurant (of four) in town.
Emma covered her head with the covers again. “I’m not interested in pity.”
Emily sat on the bed next to her and found the back of her head under the covers. She hated that Emma was waiting to be punished for this. If there was anything she didn’t need it was punishment. “Pity? I don’t pity you. Except for being a person who can't even recognize a date when it’s offered.”
Emma peeked out from under the covers and eyed her suspiciously. “You paying?”
“Of course.”
Emma glanced down at the pillow and then looked up again tentatively. “Okay,” she said. Emily couldn’t help but smile and tangle her fingers in her hair.
* * *
Part 6
Author: Alsike
Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds x-over
Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss
Rating: NC-17 (in general)
AN/Disclaimer: Not my girls.
Word Count: 2481
Prompt: None for this section.
Apologies: And more of the Princeton Eating Club AU! If you don't know what Eating Clubs are, think Hellfire Club for college students. Bicker is the system for picking new members to let into the club.
I'm not certain if this is plot, but it's clearly not smut, so it must be plot. It might be just one semi-disaster happening after another. AUs really screw with my historical anachronism sensitivity. So assume them as college age in around 2004, however difficult that may be.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Mix
Emma sat perched on the edge of the sink letting Emily scrub her face with a damp paper towel.
“You’re a mess.”
Emma snorted. “You say that like you weren’t the one to start it.”
Emily shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t think you’d mind.”
Emma stared at her. Was she really that insecure about topping? She groaned and caught Emily’s face, forcing her to meet her gaze. “Yes, I wanted to fuck you. You have to know that you’re disgustingly hot. Do you think I usually come that fast?”
The tops of Emily’s cheeks were bright and hot. Emma had to look away before the broad smile spread embarrassingly across her face.
She kicked her feet and pouted as Emily smoothly reapplied her lipstick. It was so much hotter when she did it for her. She could get used to this, she thought. Even being with her all the time, her randomly showing up after classes, didn’t feel like stalking like it did when desperate boys would follow her.
Emma had never wanted to be owned by anyone, couldn’t understand the friend who just wanted to find someone and get married. Didn’t she have any real goals? Emma had inquired brutally. Didn't she want to do something, not waste the entirety of her life running after an unappreciative family? Neither of them had really understood each other. Emma knew from her parents and her sister that tying yourself to someone was always a mistake, one that usually wrecked a good chunk of your life. But it was also incidental. When you decided to take someone you added him to your train as you kept thrusting forward towards your real goals. If his goal was drinking alcohol and taking Valium then there weren’t any problems. If his goals were at cross-purposes to yours, then you destroyed him, like her sister had destroyed her husband. Why you would look for this, as your only dream in life, was a complete mystery to Emma.
But this wasn’t related to those troubles and dangers. Emily very carefully kept their interactions proscribed to a certain realm, a fantasy realm, Emma thought it, and smiled. It was as if she sat dutifully in class, paying attention, pursuing excellence, and when she stepped out she could lose herself in a daydream. And if the daydream involved being possessed, controlled and cared for, it didn’t matter. It was just a dream. And as soon as she got rid of that rule about sleeping in handcuffs it would be a really good one.
“When are you heading to dinner?” Emma inquired absently. She didn't like to go to the club alone. Although the other sophomores were friendly enough, the upperclassmen treated her like an intruder. But if Emily was with her they were scrupulously polite. When one hadn’t been, Emily had only looked confused, and yet the boy had been so embarrassed by her curious disapproval, that he had apologized and left quickly, metaphorical tail between his legs.
Emily blinked and looked at her watch. “It’s Thursday, I usually go to Quad on Thursdays.”
Emma stared at her for a moment, a little hurt but more taken aback. “You’re eating at Quad?”
“Um,” Emily gave Emma a bewildered look. “Yeah?”
“Why?”
“I have friends there?” That probably wasn’t supposed to be a question.
“Oookay, I’m dining hall-ing it tonight, I guess,” Emma said, pressing her lips tightly together.
“Um…” Emily seemed tentative but not in the way that suggested she was making a polite lie. “You could come with me? It’s chocolate volcano cake night.”
* * *
“Emily!” A tall black girl was waving from one of the tables. Tables in the basement Emma reminded herself. Apparently Quad members dined below stairs. It was just another sign of the differences between bicker clubs and sign in clubs. No tablecloths either. The buffet line was too long, but it wasn’t as cramped and skuzzy as Terrace. They could at least afford servers to refill the vats.
Emily hugged the girl. The girl greeted her enthusiastically, and then her eyes slid over to Emma. Emma crossed her arms and tried not to look pathetic and out of place.
Emily palmed the back of her neck. “Ro, this is Emma… a friend from … the club.”
Ro inclined her head, and Emma nodded stiffly back. She didn’t like the way the girl was eyeing her. “Well, come on. We’re over here.”
The table was in the corner, between the bathrooms and the bar. A dark haired girl, wearing tinted sunglasses was already there, typing on her half-size laptop and ignoring her tray. Ro disappeared for a moment and then came out from the bar area with a handful of beers.
“On tap tonight.” She grinned and handed one to Emily and put one down next to the typing girl. Then she held one out for Emma and pulled it out of reach just as she moved to take it. “You’re a sophomore, right? Twenty-one yet?”
Emma stiffened and looked away.
“Ro,” Emily admonished.
Ro tapped Emma on the head with the bottle and put it down next to her. “Just teasing.”
Emma wasn’t about to forgive her for it.
“She’s nineteen. One eighteen eighty-four, ” said the girl with the computer. Emma looked at her sharply. She had never seen her before, much less knew her well enough to exchange birthdays.
Emily gave her a soft glance. “That’s young for a sophomore.”
Emma ignored her. She shouldn’t have come. It was clear she wasn’t welcome here.
After collecting food it was only worse. She just tried to focus on eating, while Ro and Emily were talking. Then they switched languages and her ears perked up.
“Kanojouwa doushite isshouni kitaka? Skiatteiru?”
Emily turned red. “Chotto… ma… muzukashii.”
“Hontouni? Antano taipu janaidaroune?”
“Kurabuwa… atashini ageta deshou.”
“Kurabu cara moratta? Mochiron, houa mitai.” She said it with a little slighting derisive flick of her eyes and Emma had had enough.
“If you’re going to talk shit about me, why don’t you use vocab a first year couldn’t understand,” she snapped. “And if I’m such a whore and ‘not her type’ then ask her why she can’t keep her hands off of me, all right?” She shoved her chair out as she stood up. “Go fuck yourself,” she said, flipped her tray over and stormed out.
* * *
“You didn’t mention that she takes Japanese.” Ro glared at Emily.
“You didn’t really give me an opportunity,” Emily snipped back. “Before you started in on her.”
“What was I supposed to do? You come with this girl in tow, and say she’s with the club, who would rather shoot their own foot then ever set foot out of their own elitist little clique, and I assume she’s some sort of spy keeping tabs on you. It’s not like she tried to be friendly. Why should I?”
“Because she’s with me!”
Ro gave her a long suspicious look. “You are fucking her, aren’t you?”
Emily let out a frustrated groan. “Of course I’m fucking her, and I can’t tell you why, but you can guess that I wouldn’t have been her first choice, if she had any choice in the matter.”
“If she had any choice? God, Emily. How do you get yourself into all this kinky shit?”
“I just do, okay. And she doesn’t deserve this. Everyone thinks she’s a whore, but she is not a whore, she just has enough self-esteem not to bend over and take it when bitches like Jeanie and Betsy want to play despot. So shut up about things you don’t understand.”
Ro didn’t speak, and Emily eyed her trepidatiously. She was sitting back in her chair, a raised eyebrow presenting a sarcastic inquiry. “You like her, don’t you?”
Emily glowered. “Shut up.”
“Oh, no way. Anyway, I think I was wrong about her not being your type. Out of your… two and a half girlfriends, all of them have been bitches. You’re clearly just staying in the same department.”
Emily snorted. “If that’s the case, then I have no idea why I’ve never dated you.”
* * *
“Hey.”
Emma didn’t look up from her book, open on the pillow of the futon.
“I’m… sorry about that. Ro isn’t usually that much of a bitch.”
Emma just tightened her lips. You could have defended me, she didn't say.
“Anyways, I’m glad you’re here.” Emily bent down and set something on the pillow near her. She stroked Emma’s hair, just once, on her way back up. Emma was not about to let it make her feel affectionate.
But the package smelled like chocolate.
Emily dropped onto her bed with a groan and messed about with papers, then put on her headphones and to all appearances, went to sleep.
Emma, with the end of her pencil, very carefully lifted the paper napkin covering the object. Chocolate indeed. It would be a shame to let chocolate go to waste, she concluded, and ventured a sally with the included fork. The gooey interior oozed out and pooled on the edge of the plate.
It was still warm.
* * *
(Japanese conversation:
Ro: Why’d this girl come with you? Are you dating?
Emily: It’s a little… well… difficult to explain.
Ro: Really? She’s not really your type, is she?
Emily: The club sort of gave her to me.
Ro: You got her from the club? No wonder. She looks like a whore.)
* * *
Emma was supposed to be in Econ, but the class was filing out and Emily hadn’t spotted her yet. She saw Brittany though and waved.
“Hey, is Emma in there?”
Brittany grinned at her, but shook her head. “She went to see the professor. We got our tests back today and she had ‘see me’ written on hers and no grade. It was sort of weird.” She cocked her head to the side. “I copied all her answers and I got an A.”
Emily cringed slightly. “Are they in there?”
“No. They went back to his office.”
That was bad news. She really didn’t want to run into Brandberg and have him try and suck up to her so she might mention him to her parents. He was so desperately trying to get back into politics.
Emily made her way to his office and leaned against the wall, waiting. It felt a bit stalkerish, but she didn’t have that unerring ability to just appear in the right place out of nowhere that Selene had seemed to. It was as if she always knew right when Emily had glanced around and thought, just for a moment, that she might be safe.
There was a sound from the office, like a pile of books falling on the floor, and Emily pricked up her ears.
“Hey! Don’t-“
The door banged open and Emma ran past her, her lipstick smeared like chalk on her face. Emily grabbed her arm and she spun, striking out and hitting Emily in the chest.
“God! Not you!”
“What happened?”
Emma covered her mouth, but it was far too late. “I didn’t… don’t punish me. I didn’t kiss him.”
“He kissed you?” For a moment Emily couldn’t even make herself believe it. It just did not compute in her head. “He kissed you.”
The disgust was overwhelming, disgust, and anger, and something that was entirely selfishness. Emily went hard. She pushed a protesting Emma to the side and walked straight into the office. The professor was cringing into a hand mirror and trying to wipe the white of his mouth.
“Oh! Um, Emily, right? Emily Prentiss?”
“I’m so glad you remember me,” Emily said flatly, her eyes narrowed. “Because when you’re fired and you have no friends and all your bragging rights about having been in government are gone, think about me, and remember that I was the one who took it from you.”
He laughed. “What’s all this about?”
Emily just glared. He stared at her for a moment and his eyes slowly widened as he realized what she must have seen.
“The girl kissed me! She made a move on me!”
Emily shook her head. “I don’t think you understand. When you take a student into your office, for whatever purpose, you are the one responsible for what happens there. And what were you thinking? When you pick a girl to cultivate, you pick someone vulnerable, without support, who’s a little out of her depth and reaching out for help. You don’t pick a girl from the club, and you particularly don’t pick mine.”
He stared. “Yours?”
“Haven’t you been paying attention?” He had been a member once. He should know better than this. “Emma is mine.”
“I… I didn’t know.”
Emily shook her head and rummaged around for her phone. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over for you.”
“Because of that little whore?”
“She’s my whore! That white gunk on your face should tip you off that someone’s interested in who she’s kissing!”
Emily stepped in and caught the top of his fine twill slacks, gave them a sharp enough jerk that the button popped off, and pulled them down. She flipped open her phone and took a picture, then turned around, and walked out.
“Hi, mom?”
Emma was in front of her, stopping her with a flat hand. “I don’t need your help.”
“Hold on for a second, please?”
“I can deal with this myself!” Emma snapped at her.
Emily gave her a hard look. “Do whatever you want to do to him. But you’re not going to stop me. It’s not just for you.”
Emma stormed out.
“Mom? Thanks for waiting. I’m fine, but I need a favor.”
* * *
Emma was in her bed when Emily got back to her room, the covers pulled up half over her head.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” Emma mumbled. “Is it done?”
Emily looked away. “I was thinking… because it’s pizza night at the club again… Do you want to eat somewhere else?”
Emma looked at her with narrow distrustful eyes. “Like Quad?”
Emily smiled, still humiliated by that debacle. “Like Ajihei?” she suggested, naming the best sushi restaurant (of four) in town.
Emma covered her head with the covers again. “I’m not interested in pity.”
Emily sat on the bed next to her and found the back of her head under the covers. She hated that Emma was waiting to be punished for this. If there was anything she didn’t need it was punishment. “Pity? I don’t pity you. Except for being a person who can't even recognize a date when it’s offered.”
Emma peeked out from under the covers and eyed her suspiciously. “You paying?”
“Of course.”
Emma glanced down at the pillow and then looked up again tentatively. “Okay,” she said. Emily couldn’t help but smile and tangle her fingers in her hair.
* * *
Part 6