MCD: I FINALLY have enough goddamn time to work on my stories! Hopefully! At least this one anyway. Winter track is a bitch, especially when you have tutoring as well :( it feels like I simply don't have time anymore (coughcoughTUMBLRDAMNYOUcough ) but yeah, hopefully I can get this all done. Wish me luck my bbs!

2/3: Song shots based off of current favorite songs. All pairings are ClayxEmma for this one because FEEEEEEELLLLLSSSS *spasms*

(Romance, fluff, feels that will make you go herp)

Unrelated drabbles! Enjoy!

Frank Sinatra (George Gershwin)- I've got a crush on you

Emma was an energetic person- spontaneous, tomboyish, and yes, at some times rather annoying (and if you told that to her face, she'd probably grin and thank you kindly). So, as you can imagine, she'd be more into bands and singers like Regina Spektor, or Mumford & Sons, and most definitely the Beatles. She's the type of person you'd probably overhear happily chiming into Ob-la-di Ob-la-da while walking the temple grounds, or maybe in a moodier state, humming along with her Patron Saint.

So, plainly stating, she's not the type of person you'd really expect to be listening to Frank Sinatra.

But there she was, sighing dreamily and leaning her chin on the tip of her broom handle. Lazy yellow afternoon light filtered through the windows of the library, illuminating the occasional flying dust spec in the ray of almost tangible gold. The air was soft and warm, ideal temperature to slowly lull someone to sleep. Emma felt a sense of security and her eyes drooped to half-lid.

"I'm your big and brave and handsome Romeo...
How I won you, I shall never, never know..."

Emma sighed in her dreamy state, swaying as if she were a reed in the slight evening breeze. Her feet remained rooted to the ground but her head lingered in the clouds, supported fully by the broom beneath her chin, allowing her to daze a long as she wanted.

"It's not that you're attractive,
But oh, my heart grew active,
When you came into view..."

Sinatra's smooth voice drifted, the treble a bit high, the age a bit showy, out of a small transistor radio Emma'd dug up whilst cleaning the nooks and crannies of the ancient library. She'd found it hidden behind two books on modern music, the only two books on modern music in the entire temple grounds, pressed tightly against the wall. Someone's dirty little secret.

Her interest captured, she'd blown the dust off the top, shook it a couple of times and messed with the dial and antennae. It didn't make a sound and she shrugged, giving up on it. She made to place it on the table in the center of the room but felt it slip- so she'd scrambled, panicking, and gripped it- and voila. She must've pressed a button in her flailing and it turned on. It was all high-pitched, kind of static-y while it tuned into a channel. She was surprised the batteries even worked after so long.

And, in a moment's time, out came the soft, soothing voice, albeit the obvious age in the quality. Emma messed with the dial, turning it up, and immediately felt soothed. Frank's voice had washed over her like a soft warm shower, left the sensation of the notes dripping down her limbs like honey. It was a wonderful feeling and she was content to set it on the table, listening to it as she worked, or at least attempted to.

She'd never been a real big fan of the oldies, but god, his voice was like gold. And it continued on smoothly from the station-wagon-dashboard wood of the transistor.

"I've got a crush on you, sweetie pie,
all the day and night-times hear me sigh,
I never had the least notion,
that I could fall with such emotion..."

Emma sighed softly through her nose, feeling as though she were drifting. She and the broom swayed back and forth, but in her mind, she was being supported by a completely different item. Such item being a living, breathing human being, with a broad chest and shoulders, a flannel shirt soft from being well-worn, a bipping-boppity heartbeat attached to tan skin and beautiful blond hair and compassionate sky-blue eyes that whispered of the American Dream and vast Texan skies...

And that's just how the object of her obvious affection found her moments later, minus the narration of his modest-turned-dazzling looks. He opened the crack in the door only slightly and opened his mouth to beckon her for dinner, but seeing the content look on her face paused him. A slight smile crept unto his face, and if his heart beat seemed just a bit louder in his ears, well, he wouldn't mind not denying it.

"The world will pardon my mush,
Cause I have got a crush... my baby, on you."

Summer Fiction- Throw your arms around me

He broke your heart in fifteen places

Remember faces, but not the names

Right from the start

Your warm embraces

But time erases and people change

Come and I'll make you see

My darling, throw your arms around me

Emma's arms were crossed loosely against her stomach as she leaned against the oaken door frame. Seriously, she studied Clay's compassionate face with all the consideration in the world.

Leaning up against the frame, her tank top shifted comfortably. She looked past Clay and out at the grassy field that dropped off into the distant waters of the North Atlantic. Golden afternoon sun glinted magically over the surface of the unsettled waters and tinted the green grass, making gold and green contradict itself. A breeze blew around her homey cottage, rustling the off-white curtains and tossing her side-swept bang into her face. She realized she'd need to cut it soon if it were able to bother her.

"Emma," the breeze had blown Clay's blond bangs out from in front of one of his dazzling eyes and all she could see was deep-blue honesty. That, and another emotion she didn't want to place a name to. It had been all too familiar.

Emma sighed deeply, her chest rising and falling in her thought.

"You seriously want me to consider it, don't you?" she saw doubt flicker over his face before it went back to resolute. "After all these years, after the pain you put me through. After I've finally forgotten the names of those I was closest to after they pleaded me to stay?" Her lips quirked to the side, but the action was more contemplatively stern than the happy he was hoping for. He could feel his heart slowly falling into his stomach as if it had tripped off the cliff behind him. Maybe he had made the wrong decision coming here to find her after all this time...

"Emma..."

"Funny thing is," she barreled on, "I can still remember their faces. How did I- oh yeah, I just took a regular taxi, didn't I? I hadn't expected to find one in the village but I was lucky. I can remember their faces," she reminisced, chocolate eyes hazy, "as I turned to look at them. The back window was dusty, but I can still remember the looks," she sighed, closing her eyes.

"Emma,"

"Nope, not done, Clay," she hummed and it stung him, how nonchalant she was about all of this- "all I wanted was for you to maybe return my feelings. We didn't have to be a couple, because then we could still be in love without breaking the rules, isn't that right? Or am I only remembering the hopeful thoughts?" she stared at- no, she stared straight through him and into his heart. He wanted it to stop beating. He was a damned fool, he couldn't be bothered to deny it.

"A hug would have kept me satisfied until we maybe stopped being warriors. Or was that too much to ask for? I know that most warriors become monks when they grow too old, but I guess..." she stared at him, eyes raking over him, turning his soul up and planting her questions into his very skin. "...you were always different, I guess I thought. And hell, look at us now- I was right."

'Kill me now. Just do it. Strike your final blow, Emma.'

"And now here we are. Look around, Clay. I've got a nice little cottage on a nice big cliff in a nice pretty field. For all you know, there could be a nice young man in my spare bedroom or even in mine, and yet you come, bearing a broken love from so many years ago, hoping I'll take you back despite everything that happened." she ended up whispering. The Irish land around them was quiet, even the rustling grass and crashing waves seemed to have muted, waiting for the finale.

Clay lowered his head, pushing his cowboy hat - he still had the damned thing although the tanned leather was worn and crinkled from use - back onto his sandy locks, allowing his bangs to fall back into place. He felt like a damned fool. Emma was so right, and even though his heart cracked and crumbled, he knew he'd hoped she wouldn't be like this, in some stupid part of his brain. He felt his eyes begin to sting.

'Stupid, stupid, stupid...''

He could feel Emma stare at him in all of his upset discomfort. She scanned his slumped form for only a moment before pushing off the door frame. She pulled her shorts down a little lower on her legs before patting them, getting rid of the imaginary crinkles. With that, she stepped forward, her bare feet against warm wooden steps and then tickled by soft grasses.

"You're lucky people change, Clay, or else right now I'd probably be shootin' laser beams at you with my eyes right now," she chuckled and he looked up, completely confused. A grin wormed its way onto her face and she held out her arms, eyes lined with unshed tears.

"C'mere. I've been waiting for you and I'll be damned if I don't get at least one-" she wasn't given time to finish before Clay scooped her up, muttering unintelligible apologies and pressing his face into her stomach, twirling them around. She shrieked and clutched at his head, making his hat fall to the ground. He spun a few times before letting her slip down and he pulled her in tight, pressing his face into the crook between her neck and her shoulder. Thick arms wrapped around her stomach and she wondered when her own slim-but-muscular arms had slipped around his neck.
"...hug," she finished, her face bright red from the momentary of excitement. She glanced at the golden strands of the boy- man, now- clinging to her and she pinched her arm behind his back. A grin slipped onto her face and she closed her eyes, pressing her face into his hair. He pulled tighter in response.

"...Emma?"
"Hm?"
"...can ya really shoot lasers from yer' eyes now?"

Emma burst into giddy, happy laughter and he pulled back to see her radiant smile, exhibiting the same expression. The sun lit both of their forms as they walked into the cottage, the young brunette magician motioning excitedly toward it with the hand that wasn't being held by the overjoyed cowboy.

MCD: Unfortunately, that's all for this chapter. I was going to post a bit with Mumford and Sons in it, but that bit was giving me trouble and I want to get it down pat, so that'll be the last part. I hope you enjoyed it!