I do not own Bates Motel.
But, in some ways, I do own a Dylan. And I love him so much.
Yeah, Whatever
Emma, Emma, Emma
Checking emails, making notes.
Emma, elbow deep in writing an essay for Introduction to Liberal Studies.
Working her jaw adorably as she squinted in concentration at the computer screen.
Catching him watching her from across the room, her frown evaporating as he smiled first.
Getting back to work, finishing up.
Putting down the phone, grabbing the peanut butter and bread.
Catching her watching him, him unable to help himself.
Grinning in mid-chew around a mouthful of sandwich.
What? This is my sexy face.
Bowling with new friends.
Emma, seeming to enjoy herself immensely, having never taken the opportunity to play before.
Guttering almost every ball, not appearing to care in the least because . . .
"Okay, Hoppity Hops, you're up!"
. . . she was too busy mischievously changing everyone's bowling names on the group screen.
"That's you, bro!"
"What?"
Turning to the wide eyed lung warrior herself.
"Don't look at me, I didn't do anything."
Innocent faced as the day she was born.
Unable to hold it and bursting into the smile and laughter that always warmed his heart so much.
Sipping suds, but not alot, never going back to being that guy again.
Joking around, laughing.
Singing silly to the constant stream of slightly deafening pop songs playing overhead.
Phantom Tank inexplicably throwing a strike on the very last round.
Walking away from her lane without even looking.
Turning and seeing the clobbered, downed, defeated pins.
Screeching in glee, launching herself into her excited/terrified boyfriend's embrace.
Emma, your scar!
Wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist.
Planting a humungous kiss on him to the playful cheers and whistles and claps of half the bowling alley.
Oh my god, you're going to scare me to death! Don't do that!
Watching a movie.
Something modern and flashy, not black and white and brittle like the ones Norma taught Norman to watch.
Relaxed and content and happy.
Emma shifting positions to cross legged, taking a sip of her water.
Tugging the homemade quilt up further over her to ward off the damp Seattle chill.
Then turning to him, grinning.
Eyes dark and bright at the same time.
I love you, Emma.
Her hand sneaking out from under the covering to clasp his.
Tug it under the blanket to her bared thigh, just above the knee.
Where she wanted him to start.
And him.
Happy to oblige.
Bury his face in her soft fall of auburn hair, his lips on her neck.
Her surreshes of pleasure filling up his ears and heart and brain with love.
Sitting with a steaming cup of morning tea.
Hair messy.
Face sleepy and yawning.
She was beautiful
She was perfect.
She was Emma Decody and . . .
I want to do this forever.
. . . he loved her more than anything.
Not the first time he had thought it.
Smiling all the same.
Her noticing of course.
She noticed everything.
"What?"
Him, sleeping pants and t-shirt rumpled as well, smiled again.
"You look awesome."
Her smiling in derision as if she didn't quite believe him but wasn't going to argue with compliments.
"Thank you, you're not too bad yourself."
Him turning then and opening the fridge.
Looking for anything that wasn't blackberries.
A nice little coffee shop.
Full of pastries and hot beverages.
And Emma.
Sitting there.
Back against the brick fireplace.
Legs up on him.
Not knowing how long they had been there.
Not caring.
Just talking
Laughing.
Letting everything around them go.
College girls a few tables away.
Giggling. Laughing.
Reminiscing about wild, silly times gone by.
Casting Dylan furtive glances that he didn't notice, couldn't care less about.
Because all there was in the world was Emma.
Emma, dark eyes bright and lively.
Smiling.
Laughing.
Talking.
Breathing.
And happy to be with him.
Not knowing what she was thinking, except when she told him.
But knowing when the thought arrived in his head.
I'm going to ask her to marry me.
Opening his mouth.
I need a ring.
Closing his mouth.
I should really talk to Will.
Emma sipping her tea, pausing.
"What?"
Him realizing he was grinning at her.
Big and dopey.
And completely in love.
And very, very happy.
"Nothing."
"Uh, Will, I'd like to talk to you about something."
The man himself, glasses slid down his nose, Victorian literature book in one hand.
Turning to him.
Warm. Friendly.
Unsuspecting.
"What can I do for you, Dylan?"
Dylan was still terrified.
"I, uh, I, ahem, . . . I want to ask Emma to marry me."
Will DeCody's dark eyebrows raised subtly in mild surprise.
"Oh. Well. That's quite a step."
And Dylan's nerves overrode his mouth.
"Well, I've wanted to for a while but I wanted to make sure this job panned out so I could be stable for her and I wanted her to be fully recovered, I mean I know she can't ever truly be but . . ."
Will smiled, stopping Dylan's onslaught of words.
As if he already understood.
"Have you talked to her about it yet?"
Dylan shook his head.
"Ah, no. I, uh, I thought as her father, I should, . . . well, I wanted to . . . I mean, I know she can make her own decisions and everything but . . . I just want all of us to be on good terms so . . ."
Dylan shrugged helplessly and Will Decody graciously came to his future son-in-law's rescue.
"Well, that shows alot of integrity, Dylan. I appreciate that."
He paused, causing Dylan's anxiety to skyrocket.
Then Will DeCody placed a firm, reassuring hand on his left shoulder.
And spoke.
"You're a fine young man, Dylan. And I'm glad Emma loves you. I'd be honored for you to marry my daughter."
Relief poured through him and he visibly relaxed.
"Thanks, Will."
Will nodded.
"Do you have a ring yet?"
Dylan shook his head.
"No. I was just, uh, trying to take it a step at a time."
Will nodded casually and gestured.
"You're welcome to buy your own if you wish but I've got her gran's old wedding ring you might want to consider. We could get it resized to fit Emma."
Will riffled through a box or two before pulling out a small, modest diamond ring wrapped in soft cloth.
He held it aloft and the light caught its sparkle.
Dylan nodded.
"That'd be great. Thank you."
Will smiled and Dylan shuffled.
"Well, you better get going. Got big things to do."
And Dylan, nervous and excited, went.
Sugary sweetness, I hope?
Oh Lana Brown, you know what I'm going to say! Thank you! *hugs*