Emmett sighed gustily as he walked up to the floor that contained Elle's dorm room. There was a familiar voice.

"Oh, hey, Emmett," Warner greeted him with polite boredom. "Looking for Elle?"

"No, actually," Emmett's voice was a more of a snipe than he had intended.

"Hmph, well, Barbie's probably on her back to Malibu, anyways," Warner raised a cool eyebrow.

"Actually," Emmett began, determined to deflate Warner's pompous demeanor, "I was just dropping these—," he allowed Warner a passing glance at the lingerie, "—off for her. She left them at my apartment." Emmett tried to sound proud, yet demure, as his lungs heaved in attempt to restrain his laughter.

Warner's jaw dropped. "She—?!"

Emmett nodded in some satisfaction as he used Elle's key to open her door. "Oh, and Warner?"

The handsome law student continued to gape at him.

"She wouldn't be going to Malibu, seeing how she's moved in with me," Emmett tried to keep himself from laughing as Warner's face turned red, then grey, then red again. It was his entire intention to steal the self-important prick's thunder, and it appeared to be working magnificently.

Warner turned on his heel, apparently very confused by this revelation. "…couldn't see Marilyn spending Christmas in a cardboard box…" he mumbled.

Emmett's smugness evaporated to be replaced by righteous fury. He fumbled with his keyring, dropping it twice before managing to slip it into Elle's door.

Slamming it behind him, he went to Elle's bureau as she had directed, pulling the top drawer open violently. He took a few deep breaths as he carefully sorted through the blonde's socks, pulling out her flannel pajamas.

He hated Warner, Emmett decided viciously. He was a cynic by nature, but even people as blasé and insensitive and arrogant as him certainly, certainly made Emmett very, very mad.

Elle Woods, in Emmett's humble (and completely biased) opinion, was an amazing woman: she was kind, smart, and beautiful, and so indomitably sweet that it absolutely broke Emmett's heart, especially the way she was so devoted to Warner, when he was such an—

Emmett sighed as he closed the drawer. If he had been dating Elle (the mere thought made his face redden and his palms sweat), he would have never in a million years broken up with her.

But skinny poor boys from Jersey did not wind up with women like Elle. That was a fact.

Emmett sighed for a third time. He wished he could be better for Elle.

Emmett wished this same wish as he begged his stupid car to start.

He wished this as he tried to ignore the depressing desolation of his ratty, wretched neighborhood.

He wished this as he climbed up the creaky, smelly stairs to his apartment.

"Elle, I'm back," he called tiredly.

"Welcome home," Elle greeted warmly from the bedroom. Even though she meant it in a casual, friendly way, Emmett felt suddenly warm and content and utterly shy at those words.

"Your pajamas," Emmett tossed them onto the bed. "I have some stuff to read for this case Callahan is taking over the break, but do you need anything?"

"No," Elle shook her head, flinging her pretty blonde hair.

"Okay," Emmett touched her shoulder gently. "Try to get some sleep, okay?"

-

Emmett came again around 11 PM, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He paused in his motions. Elle was flopped back onto her pillows, texting sleepily on her pink phone.

"It's only 8 in California," Elle mumbled sleepily.

"Party's just getting started at Delta Nu, I imagine," Emmett smiled.

"It is a day ending in 'y'," Elle giggled.

"Hey, if you don't mind my asking," Emmett opened his top drawer, a bit surprised to find lacy underclothes and fluffy pajamas mixed in among his socks and boxers, "why do you have pajamas with ducks on them?"

"Oh, well, I got them because ducks make me think of you," Elle told him, not looking up from her phone.

"Ducks remind you of me?" Emmett asked incredulously, hoping she couldn't see his pink face.

"What are those ones with the green heads?" Elle asked, sitting up slightly to look at him.

"Mallards?"

"Yeah," Elle nodded as she flopped back into the pillows. "Your eyes are that color. That's why."

"And why do you want pajamas that remind you of me?" Emmett mumbled, suddenly very focused on his sock drawer. "So you'll remember to study, I assume?"

"I—," Elle made a noise, someplace between a cough and a groan of frustration. "Look, they were on sale, okay?"

Emmett felt a little disappointed, so he changed the subject, "Did you take your medicine?"

"Yes, and it tastes like crap," Elle blew a very unladylike raspberry at the ceiling.

"Did you do the thing with the stethoscope?"

"Yes, and I sound like crap," Elle told him.

"You, Woods comma Elle," Emmett looked at her with a wry grin—

"Stop calling me that!"

"—are not a night-owl," Emmett finished. "Now get some sleep; I don't think your doctor likes me, and she'll be pissed at me if you don't get your rest."

"What are you doing tomorrow, Emmett?" Elle asked.

"Taking care of you, duh," Emmett told her, giving her a light poke in the back. "And going into Callahan's office to work on his case and help him grade the tests."

"Ohmigod!" Elle sat up straight in bed, which was clearly a bad idea, as she immediately started coughing again.

"Take it easy," Emmett's voice was concerned as he sat next to her on the bed.

"Will you be grading my test?" Elle's eyes were wide as her fingers dug into his hand.

"I dunno, probably," Emmett told her, trying to extract his hand from her iron grip.

"Could you find out my grade for me? Please? Pleasepleaseplease?" she begged. Her blue eyes were wide and her blond hair was standing up from the static. To Emmett, she had never looked more beautiful.

Emmett felt his heart soften under her pleading gaze. He could never say no to her, could he?

-

:-P For some odd reason, I could completely see Emmett doing this to Warner.