A/N: Another week in lockdown and life is getting no more exciting. What is exciting is when lovely people like 27gutzwillriley review, so thank you so much for that! We're jumping forward a month, hope you guys enjoy it! See you next week :) ~ Emma
Emma's hair fluttered in the wind as she ran down the school steps. Clutched to her chest, were sheets of paper that threatened to fly away before she even reached the car. Rory had become used to running through a list of things she might have forgotten before they went home, her choir music was always one of them. She beamed at him and her heavy breaths made clouds in the air. Rory couldn't help but look at her, taking in her vibrant green eyes and cheeks that were spotted red from the cold. She looked so much brighter these days.
He opened the door for her with a grin. "Got it?"
"Yup." She ducked into the car. "I've only just caught up from missing the first half of term. I couldn't forget it again."
"Good job your boyfriends kind enough to wait for you." He winked as he climbed into the driver's seat.
"He's too scared of me to leave without me." She stuck out her tongue. "And you can't very well leave me at school when I'm going to meet your parents. I wore a dress and everything."
"That you look beautiful in, by the way." He leaned over, kissing her lightly and teasing himself as much as her. "Even with your boots."
She shot him an exaggerated glare, which only served to fuel his smile. "I own boots or trainers, take your pick."
"What if someone asked you to the Winter Formal? What would you wear then?" he asked, trying to keep himself from grinning like an idiot.
She rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed with his train of thought. "I guess it's something I'd have to think about if someone asked me. It's hardly like I could wear heels."
"Is this the part where you go on an indie girl rant about the misogynistic crime that is high heels?" He raised an eyebrow. He knew she liked her books, but that would just make her a cliche.
"Why is it that as soon as you don't wear makeup everyday, and dress sensibly, everyone assumes you hate everything feminine?" She shook her head at him. "There is nothing wrong with heels, until you find yourself fighting off monsters or running for your life barefoot. They're thoroughly impractical."
That checked out. Trust Emma to be endlessly pragmatic. He couldn't help but think of her in a short prom dress with her boots and leather jacket. He would be lying if he said it wasn't a nice image. "I could get behind a prom dress and combat boots."
"What about ones with a little block heel?" She held up her fingers measuring around two or three inches. "You know, comfortable enough to save the world, stylish enough for the formal."
The way her face lit up at the thought made a warm sensation spread throughout his chest. "I think that sounds perfect."
They kept talking throughout the journey. He was too nervous to sit in silence and he could tell she felt the same.
The whole thing had been Linda's idea. His dad had asked one evening where he kept disappearing to all the time and by that point he'd grown close enough with his dad to be honest. Linda had jumped at the chance to invite Emma over for dinner. Rory had been hesitant and had his doubts, but Emma had always been really supportive of him trying to fix things with his dad. Every time he mentioned he was doing someone with his dad she would smile and say 'that's great', but he still saw the sadness that crept into her eyes knowing that was something she'd never be able to do.
He got out his keys when they reached the door, but Emma put her hand on his arm. "You don't have any siblings, do you?"
He blinked at her, mouth slack. "You don't think I'd have mentioned them by now? We've been official now for—what?—a month?"
"I'm just checking." She frowned at him, her lips pouting. "I don't like surprises."
He touched her cheek gently. "You'll be fine. You're every parent's dream for their kid."
"As long as we skip the part where my dad's a Greek god." The humour she injected into her hushed voice didn't do much to cover her nerves.
He gave her hand one last squeeze before pushing open the door and walking through to the kitchen. Emma looked around the apartment with wide eyes as his dad and Linda appeared around the corner. To his shock, his dad was laying the table, pouring the wine and actually being helpful. He'd always assumed his dad made Linda do everything for him. Maybe even now he was being too harsh on him.
His dad looked up at them with a smile. "Rory, how was your day?"
"Good, yeah. Nothing special." He rubbed the back of his neck, not quite sure what to do next. "This is Emma."
She offered a small wave. "Hi Mr McKenzie."
"Please, call me Robert." His dad moved to shake her hand. He felt the corner of his lip twitching as he wondered when the last time his dad met someone outside of work.
After that the small talk began. Where did she grow up? When did she move to New York? What were her ambitions for the future? That was his dad's idea of small talk anyway. She thrived off it though. Her confidence had come a long way since the start of term. She almost seemed happy to talk about herself and that was something he didn't think he'd ever see. Joining choir, making friends at camp; they'd really brought her out of her shell. Each day he watched as her guard slowly started to come down and it made seem lighter. Now as she spoke she shone.
"What do your parents do?" Linda asked politely, taking a sip of her wine.
Emma's face faltered momentarily. They'd both known there was no way to avoid talking about her parents, but it was probably her least favourite topic. He reached over and took her hand under the table.
"My step dad works in finance." Emma smiled in a way that only he could see was nervous. "What do you do?"
As she became more social, her ability to bend the conversation to her will only grew. She had barely given an answer, but the conversation still ran smoothly. Any question about her parents merely glanced off her skin as she directed them away from it. It was rare she used the skill she had acquired from years of hiding and it never stopped surprising him.
As the meal drew to a close he felt relief wash over him. It had all gone well. They seemed to like her, though he knew she would never believe it. When he closed the door to his room, he watched as the mask of energy washed off her face to reveal the exhaustion she felt inside.
As her eyes surveyed the room, he grew self conscious of how little was in it. He hadn't made any effort to decorate when he'd arrived. He had never been one for posters anyway.
The only personal effect he had was a photo of him and his mom which sat next to a much more recent photo of him and his dad.
Emma picked up the former and a smile crept onto her lips. "You know, there isn't nearly enough here to make fun of you for."
She put it down and walked over to him, sliding her hands over his chest. He felt his heart contract at the connection. It felt so right that every time they weren't touching he felt as if he was missing a part of himself. She filled that space with an unrivalled warmth.
She tilted her head up to look at him. "Next time I come over, I expect a pile of embarrassing photos to go through, starting with those of you in any school productions."
"Oh really?" He cocked an eyebrow at her as he snaked an arm around her waist.
"Mmm Hmm." She nodded eagerly. "Otherwise I might never come back."
He leaned toward her so their faces were only an inch apart. "You are something else, Emma Turner." He lifted her off her feet and dropped her on the bed.
"I don't like you," she grumbled.
"Sure you don't." He grinned and climbed on. He propped himself up on his arm and looking down at her.
A smile twitched its way onto her lips as her fingers grazed his cheek. "When did you realise you liked me?" She paused. "As more than a friend."
He didn't respond at first, the question blindsiding him. He knew the answer though.
"You could say it started on the shores of a lake in LA. When you risked your life for mine. I'm pretty sure most people would find that quite attractive."
"That long!" She jumped out from under him, moving so that she sat on her knees.
"What? When did you realise you liked me?" He flopped back into the pillows, putting his hand behind his head.
"The first time I went to Camp Half Blood." She pushed her hair behind her ear as a blush started to creep into her cheeks. "I, well, I kissed Kit and all I could think about was you. It was terribly awkward and not at all romantic."
It was kind of cute that she thought that would make him mad. All it did was make him laugh. "So that's why you were so shifty when you came back."
"Well I hardly thought you'd like me back." She rolled her eyes at him.
He leaned toward her. "Not liking you isn't something I'm capable of."
He had expected her to kiss him, but she drew back. She went still, as if trying too hard to be normal. It meant she was hiding something, or rather, not saying something. It was how she went when she was nervous.
Emma looked down, raising a hand to twist her necklace. "If you liked me that long, why did you never try anything? You had so many chances to kiss me, to pull me closer…"
A deep sadness started blooming in his chest at her words. Of course that's what she'd think liking someone looked like, especially after everything with Austin and Evan. Isn't that what every TV show put it down to? That liking someone was wanting your hands all over them and nothing more?
"Emma." He could barely find the words. "It's not that I didn't want to. I wanted that so much, but I have far too much respect for you for that."
Her eyebrows pulled together in confusion, causing the skin between them to crease. When she didn't say anything he continued.
"At first I thought you still hated me and I thought I could get you to warm to me. Then as we got closer, you were dating Austin, so I didn't say anything. After that you were going through a tough time and honestly by then I was too afraid of losing you to even try talking about it." He held his hand out to her and she took it, moving closer. "I wanted to do this right with you. I didn't want to pressure you. I didn't want to push you. I wanted to know you liked me even before I dared to ask."
She rested her body against his chest, never looking away from his eyes. Something about her usual distracted nature made her focus seem so much more intense.
"Kissing you when you were upset, or hurting, or confused about what you wanted seemed—no—would have been wrong."
She shuffled just a little bit more so that their chests were pressed up together. Her eyes brimmed with emotion, though there were too many for a single feeling to stand out. She pressed her fingers to his cheek and her lips followed. They moved to his mouth and she kissed him. She moved slowly, but each touch was deliberate. Each movement was perfectly crafted to leave him wanting more.
After a while, but still all too soon, she drew back. "It's getting late."
"Is there such thing as late on a Friday evening?" He pulled her back, kissing the upturned corners of her mouth.
She laughed softly. "I feel like I'm going to pass out."
"Oh, does that mean you'll go the whole night without waking up?" he teased, lacing his fingers in her hair.
"Nothing ever means that for a demigod."
When the finally climbed into bed, Emma was out like a light switch. Rory, on the other hand, didn't have so much luck. He couldn't quite come to terms with the day. Two months ago he wouldn't have imagined his life in New York would be anything like this. Spending a Friday night having dinner with his dad and girlfriend? That hadn't seemed likely at all.
He usually took longer to get to sleep than Emma anyway. He was all too aware of the nightmares they waited for him behind closed eyes. Though it wasn't every night he saw Emma being killed by the kraken, but it was mixed up between that, Mia, Austin and a bunch of nameless faceless demigods and monsters. Each time he was always powerless to stop it. He couldn't shout, he couldn't move, or warn her in any other way.
He picked her necklace off the nightstand as he always did, twisting it round to watch the stories play out. He always wondered what he'd do once he got to the end and the stories ran out. He liked rewatching every time Emma had used the sword. After going through all of those, he would flick back until he didn't recognise the drawings. He watched a couple of battles, but he didn't tire much. He flicked through until he saw it change hands—those were always the most interesting ones. He moved to the beginning of the story, but once he reached it, the pendant didn't move any further.
The depiction showed a blade in fire with clouds swirling around it. As he twisted the pendent he saw the smith pull the blade from the fire with his bare hands. The smith gave it to a woman who passed it onto a man in greek armour. The man was then seen training with it, but not for long. An elaborate but detailed scene formed on the metal before him. It panned across a lake with three figures on their knees. A fourth figure drove a sword through the first, drowned the second in the lake and then held the third over the water until a single teardrop fell down the figures face into the water. Rory dropped the pendant.
Shit.