The Chip on His Shoulder

by HermioneGirl96

Emmett has been helping Elle study late into the night. When he says he's headed home, Elle asks where that is and is horrified to find out that Emmett lives in a squalid apartment with roommates who are sketchy at best, but Emmett insists he can take care of himself. Very short and kind of fluffy. A one-shot.

Disclaimer: The characters and setting don't belong to me.

It was about 1:30 a.m. when Emmett stood, stretched, and fought to cover a yawn that was wider than his hand was tall. "All right, I think I'll be headed home, then."

"Where is home, anyway?" Elle asked from the bed. She'd been sprawled there in her pajamas for the past few hours; Emmett had quizzed her on applications of habeas corpus through the screen that separated her changing area from the rest of her dorm while she'd transitioned from her bedazzled pink shirt, jacket, and jeans into the pink camisole and pink flannel pants she slept in.

Emmett yawned again and sat back down. "An apartment a couple miles from here. I share it with a couple other guys. They're sort of deadbeats, and the one's almost always on drugs, but we each scrounge up enough money to pay our third of the month's rent and make sure there's something in the fridge. Which is more than I had growing up half the time, to be honest."

"You live with a drug addict?" Elle propped herself up on her elbows and stared at Emmett in horror.

Emmett shrugged. "What else am I supposed to do? I'm licensed, but the law firms aren't hiring. I'm working as Callahan's teaching assistant, and I've got a couple of other part-time gigs, but nobody wants me to do the one thing I'm really qualified for."

"Emmett, I had no idea! Don't you have the money to move anywhere else?"

"Nope. Not if I'm going to stay in the Boston area. But it's all right. Like I said, it's more than I had half the time growing up."

"But you should be living somewhere nicer!" Elle stood and started rummaging in one of the drawers of her desk, her cleavage inches from Emmett's face. "Here," she said, producing a credit card. "Take this."

Emmett stood, too, and backed away from Elle, toward the door. He held his hands up, palms out, between himself and Elle. "I don't want your charity, Elle."

"But if you're caught living with a drug addict, that could look really bad on your record! That's the last thing you need."

Emmett laughed his usual nervous laugh. "I'll be fine. I'm telling you, I grew up in conditions much worse than this. I know how to look after myself."

Elle put away her the credit card and sat back on the bed, looking mollified. "If you say so. But you deserve better."

Emmett winked at her. "That's the chip on my shoulder." And he let himself out.