Happy Birthday Beate! I wrote you an Em/Ro ficlet. I've never attempted writing them before, so I hope you enjoy it. I made Emmett an Irish boy from Southie... that work for yah? lol
After I started this little drabblely like fic for you, I wondered why the hell I didn't just write you slash. I'm an idiot.
Forgive me.
Have a great one! *hugs*
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I watched him on the train, commuting with all the rest of us rats on the T. His shoulders were as wide as the old tram car and his head was bowed, buried in The Globe, reading the sports section. A scally cap was covering the dark, shiny curls that I so much admired and so seldem saw.
"Take it off," I mouthed to him even though he couldn't see, trying to will more off than just the cap on his square, Irish head. My command was oblivious to the people around me--the lot of them were too engrossed in their music players, papers, phones and books. When he removed his hat the next second, revealing the crop of thick hair that I so desperately want to tug on as I screamed his name, I gasped in shock. His dark rimmed eyes spiked with gold raised to mine, and a smirk that surely belonged to the devil crossed his chiseled face.
"Hey," he said, though be didn't make a sound, and shit if my knees didn't get a little weak. Through the jars of the train and the stiff shoulders of our fellow commuters, he'd pierced me with a single glance.
Well, damn.
Feeling giddy and turned on, I nodded my head towards him with a bit of disdain plain on my sharp face. The brush off was intentional. I was playing hard to get. I may fantasize about him every night but I be damned if I let him know how badly I wanted him within the first few seconds of him paying me attention. He didn't need to know that my heart was speeding faster than a hummingbird's and my head felt dizzy and drugged from his stare. A man looking like he did already knew he was capable of rendering a woman helpless. I was not going to give him that satisfaction.
His eyes narrowed as he assessed me, unabashedly roaming over the expanse of my legs--that were intentionally bare and only half-hidden behind the open flaps of my Burberry coat--and up past my hips and torso. I shifted where I stood against the door of the train, giving him the show he wanted. He'd never know what hit him if he ever got my clothes off, but judging by the look in his eye, he was certainly picturing a similar type of encounter.
The train lurched to a stop, jerking on the tracks as the breaks skidded and connected into place. I pulled up the lapels on my coat, and threw the hood over my head. The trench would have to be tied up as well, since my neighborhood was not one you'd want to walk around in on display.
"You eva gonna ask me out?"
I halted my strides on the train platform, my heels creaking against the cement beneath my feet, and turned back towards whoever dared to ask such a ridiculous question. I had prepared to shoot down his stupidity with a single word or phrase, but when I saw that the man was none other than the cute boy I'd been lusting over all these months, my mouth snapped shut.
Speechless, I shrugged, hoping that would answer his question.
With a bellowing laugh that reminded me of summertime and melting ice cream cones, he stepped forward, ripped his cap from his head, and bowed. Those beautiful dark curls were bared to me, up close and personal, as he spoke and my fingers twitched at my sides with the need to touch them. "Emmett McCarthy, at yah service."
Standing resolute, I folded my arms across my chest and raised an eyebrow. What's with the theatrics? I thought.
Undeterred, he reached into his satchel and switched the scally cap for a regular one, the large red B blazing out from his forehead at me like a brand. He pulled the rim low over his face but his eyes still pierced through the night, filled with mischief and anticipation.
"Nice hat." As stupid as the compliment sounded, it was all I could think to say right then.
"Thanks, now how 'bout a cup of coffee? I'm freezin'," he said, lifting the two large paws he called hands and blowing hot air into them. His massive shoulders were hunched but despite his size he looked like a little boy right then, all innocence and undiluted charm.
"I'm walking home." It wasn't an invitation or a let down, merely a statement since my brain was incapable of coming up with any actual words that would let me converse with this person.
"I see that, so am I, but we've got delis in this town. Donut shops, too."
I nodded. "We do."
"Thayh's one just down the street," he encouraged, his accent extra thick.
Incensed, I almost stomped my foot. "You wanna take me to Johnny's!? That's the best you can do? That piece of shit donut shop?"
He threw his head back and laughed again--same innocence, same wonderful sound--just as a group of drunks stumbled onto the platform, the scent of stale alcohol hitting the air along with their swears and shouts.
Emmett stepped forward and threw and arm around my shoulder, watching the men the entire time. "Let's walk," he said, and it was clear from his tone, he wasn't giving me the option to refuse.
"You think you can protect me?" I sassed, unimpressed by his macho routine.
"I know it," he shot back, his eyes suddenly fierce. All hints of the boy-like charm of before gone from his features.
"Did the Red Sox lose tonight?" I asked, curious about the men behind us.
"Yup."
"So those guys are drunk and pissed?"
"Yup."
"Which means everyone in this damn town is probably dunk and pissed?"
"Yup."
"Well then, Johnny's it is."
He looked at me out of the corner of his eye, a hint of smile playing at his lips. "You suddenly okay that 'piece of shit' place?"
"Johnny's a Yankee fan. No one would dare go there on a night the Sox lose to New York."
"Ah'n't you brilliant."
"I am."
Emmett's laughter followed us as we headed down off the train platform towards Johnny's, his arm a constant adornment to my shoulder the entire way. By the time we walked through the door of the ancient donut shop, the bell jingling above our heads, my body was leaning into his, absorbing his warmth and his humor.
It was going to be a good night--even if the Sox had lost.
