Title: the little things

A/N: for Ne:verland, a noremma zine! I wanted to write a fluffy au for them. Which I guess could technically take place post canon, when they're all in uni as well.

Summary: Norman liked giving Emma gifts. Whether it was post-it notes on the mirror, packed lunches, or interesting trinkets, he liked having small ways to show just how much he loved her. What he wasn't expecting was a gift back.

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i.

Emma woke up to an empty bed. It wasn't anything unusual: Norman more often than not got up before her. He also slept later than her and she wasn't sure exactly how his body ran on what could only be like four hours of sleep. Then again, he was doing a double major. With the amount of coursework that entailed, it was the only way he'd get anything done.

Emma rubbed her eyes as she sat up. The morning sun shone brightly through their window, bathing her in its warm glow. She had always considered herself a morning person, but even she couldn't fight back a yawn as the heat enveloped her. Stretching her arms, Emma glanced at Norman's pillow.

A bright yellow post-it note sat in the middle of it.

"Huh?" Curious, she plucked it for a closer inspection. Scrawled in the neatest cursive known to man was Morning, love!

Automatically, she smiled. "Morning," she replied, practically bouncing out of bed as she headed to the bathroom. Luckily, the other occupant of their small, two-bedroom apartment hadn't used it yet. On the mirror was yet another note.

You look beautiful.

"Only to you." Emma chuckled. Even now, at twenty, she still had a boyish look about her. Handsome, her friends told her. Cute her ex-boyfriends declared.

Beautiful, Norman said each and every time.

There was a note on the closet (It's warm today), on her freshly printed essay (Definitely a winner), on her backpack (Try not to overstuff it), and she had to double check the mirror to make sure there wasn't one on her forehead. Even Ray, who had passed out on the couch last night, had one on his chest.

Emma covered her mouth, suppressing her laughter as she read it (Tell him to do the dishes).

ii.

"I can't believe our midterm is tomorrow," Emma groaned, slumping onto the picnic table. "I'm going to fail."

"You'll be fine," Gilda reassured, patting her on the shoulder.

"We're both going to fail," Don groaned, lying on the grass beside them. The hot sun beat down on them, the beginnings of summer in the air, and he shaded his eyes. "We're going to repeat a year."

"You're not." Gilda reached down to squeeze his shoulder. "Look, let's just have lunch, okay? Come on, you'll both feel better after you eat."

"How can I—" Emma flushed as her stomach gurgled.

Don broke into laughter, sitting up. "Classic."

"Shut up." Ears red, Emma pulled out a small container from her backpack. Norman had left it on the table this morning, with no explanation other than a morning kiss before he shooed her out the door. The only thing she knew was that whatever it was, it had to be delicious.

"What'd he make this time?" Interest piqued, Don slid into the seat beside her. Even Gilda leaned closer, brushing her hair behind her ear.

"Let's find out." Swallowing from anticipation, Emma yanked the lid off. Inside, the bento was filled with karaage, a rice ball decorated to look like a sleeping bear, and colourful vegetables cut into small flowers.

"That's too pretty to eat," Gilda cooed, her phone out as she snapped a photo.

Emma paused only long enough to text Norman her thanks, before digging in. Nothing was too pretty to eat. Nothing.

iii.

The university gym was a big place. Gigantic, in fact. However, when it was packed to the brim like it was today, the usually empty floor filled with dozens of tables, it felt really small. Emma tugged on her collar, feeling all too warm for fall as she stood stock still in the center of it all. People milled about her as they went from stall to stall, inspecting all the goodies crammed at each table and occasionally picking one up to buy.

She should have known anything that Ray and Norman ran together would do well. Considering this was a charity drive, well, she could hardly complain about having too many customers. Emma could, instead, complain about how her boyfriend had disappeared. Norman had just been behind her two seconds ago. Maybe he'd been swept away by the tide of customers. Or trampled or—

"Emma!"

She pivoted on her heel, already scanning her surroundings. A hand waved above the crowd to her right, and she recognized it as Norman's. Quickly, she hurried over to him, slipping in and out of the crowd with practiced ease. There was a reason she had an athletic scholarship, after all. "Norman!"

"Emma!" Catching sight of her, he smiled, relieved. "Sorry, I didn't think it'd be that hard to catch up."

"Where were you?" she asked, furtively inspecting his body. It looked like he was in one piece.

"I saw something." With his other hand, he held out a small carousel-shaped figurine. Painted in blue and white, the whole thing looked daintier than anything Emma had seen in her entire life. It was like even breathing on it would break it. "It's a music box."

"It is?"

He quickly turned the small gear in the back, spinning it several times, before setting the carousel on his palm once more. It was hard to hear, above the din around her, but she could just make out a few notes of Claire de Lune as the horses slowly spun around. Gently, Norman took her hand and rested the figurine on it. "It's for you."

She didn't know what she'd do with it, but that didn't matter. Norman had given it to her, and that was enough for her to treasure it. "Thank—" Emma paused mid-hug, realizing she'd break the carousel before they'd even left the building. Quickly, she shifted into an awkward one-armed hug. "Thank you, it's amazing."

iv.

It was frigid. Emma shivered as she tightened her skates, feeling the cold even beneath her triple layers. No matter how warmly she dressed, it always hit her right in the bone. Still, she couldn't help but smile as she straightened up.

The city's outdoor skating rink was brightly lit, with colour light strung around naked trees and streetlights shining down on every corner of the public area. The radio blared on the speakers, some country love song as skaters slowly circled the rink in a clockwork fashion. There were families, friends, and lovers.

She'd waited all year for this sight. Emma almost bounced on her feet as she stood, reminding herself of her blades just in time. "You ready, Norman?"

"Yes, just one thing." Skates gently scraped against the rubber mats as her boyfriend slowly approached.

Emma giggled. "Man, if you were a murderer, I'd know you were there immediately."

"Why would I kill you?" Norman shook his head as he stopped next to her, his expression fond. "Here."

That was the only warning she got before he wrapped a green woolen scarf around her neck. The soft material tickled her throat as he winded it around and around, before tucking the ends in together.

"You looked cold," Norman explained, his ears pink as he looked away. He looked embarrassed, and she only had to look at him to realize why. Wrapped around his neck was a matching green scarf. "That's…that's all."

Emma grinned. "You look cold too." She grabbed his hand before he could tuck it away in his pocket. "I know a way to warm up."

The entire time they skated, she didn't let go.

v.

Norman was used to returning home to the unexpected. It was part of the package of living with Emma and Ray; the only thing consistent about them was their inconsistency. Which was why he wasn't too surprised when Emma had grabbed his hand the second he'd stepped through the door, ushering him into the kitchen. Nor was he shocked when she'd plopped him down on a seat.

What was surprising though was the set of scissors and combs set up on the kitchen table. "Emma?"

"You need a haircut," Emma declared, carefully setting a cloth on his chest and tying it together.

Now that she'd mentioned it, it had been getting a little long. Norman reached up and tugged a stray lock. Between exams, he hadn't had the time to get it trimmed. He leaned back, looking up at his beaming girlfriend. "I know you're busy, I can get it done—"

"Nonsense," Emma huffed, hands on her hips. "I can do it."

"But—"

"Norman," and her hands were gentle as she cupped his cheeks, "I want to do this." She leaned forward, pressing a kiss on his forehead before pulling away. "Now look straight ahead, I don't want to make it uneven."

There was no point in arguing with her. Norman had learned that lesson long ago. All he could do was lower his chin and stare at the yellow wall. Emma hummed softly as she combed his hair, and it was funny how delicate her touch was, how unlike her usual rough grip this was.

Norman closed his eyes, relishing it all. It was funny, really, how naturally this all came to her. He'd spend days planning gifts around silly things like the letter he'd written when he'd first asked her out, the terrible scarf Gilda helped him make for Valentine's day, the carousel where they'd first kissed. It was always calculated with him.

And Emma always gave without a second thought, without even realizing the gifts she'd given him over the years. Her constant touches, her open affection, all the things that he had to work to do, she just did as easy as breathing.

"You look happy," Emma commented, snipping his bangs.

He smiled. "I am."