"You think you're real tough, don't you?" with Elliot and Emma (my platonic OTP)
"You think you're real tough, don't you?"
Elliot smirked at Emma as she asked him the question, mostly because it was true—Elliot did think he was real tough for standing up to their mother and getting out of yet another pretentious philanthropy dinner. It was rare that any of them came up with an excuse acceptable enough to garner a pardon from their mother for these things—even Mia had trouble getting out of them and she was still in Paris—so Elliot was more than a bit proud of himself.
He allowed a casual shrug of his shoulders as he answered. "You're just jealous you didn't think of an excuse to get out of it first."
"I'm actually not" —Emma usually quite enjoyed most her mother's events with all their glitz and glamour and delicious food and open bars— "but I will miss you terribly. You know Christian's never any fun at these things."
Christian always employed his serious, business-like persona at these events, moving about the event like a man who was overly aware of the constant gaze of the public eye being directed at him.
"And he never dances."
"Sure, he does," Elliot answered. "Christian always—"
"He always dances with me for two slow songs," Emma interrupted. "Never more and never anything fast or fun and he—"
"Hold on" Elliot said, mock surprise taking over his face and his tone. "Are you trying to say that I am the fun brother?"
Emma shoved Elliot's shoulder—they both knew it wasn't really a competition. "I'm saying you dance like an idiot, which allows me to dance normal and look way better at it than you by default."
Elliot screwed his face up in thought. "...was...that...a...challenge...?" he asked. "Are you challenging me to a dance off right here? Right now?"
Emma rolled her eyes, about to protest a dance off in their parents living room when the rest of their siblings and partners were due at the house at any moment, but Elliot had already pressed play on his phone and stood up from the couch, his body melting into the rhythm, his limbs seamlessly coordinating with the beat.
He looked like a goofball, and some small part of Emma tingled with the burn of secondhand embarrassment, but Elliot's face held a genuine smile, his enjoyment and passion so clear on his face that after a few seconds, Emma pushed past her own embarrassment and allowed herself to dance along with her brother, just two ill-coordinated idiots in the throws of a 90's jam sesh.
Reading this book and I can so see Glen Powell as Hugh and Monica Barbaro as Kate (even if they don't exactly fit the character description- the personalities are perfect!)! Bonus of Lewis Pullman as Cameron.
Somebody make this happen PLEASE!!!! (Before I start thinking about writing this into the Top Gun Universe and then give up like always)
It’s @synonymtoasty’s (hehe me) birthday on Wednesday!
My esteemed friend and colleague @vicey-vice, who is the 3.5 of the full 7% solution that runs this blog graciously gifted me this drawing of Holmes, Watson, and my OC Emma. I am so happy with this and blessed to know such a fine friend is by my side, revolver at the ready.
Summary: Emma, Mia, Elliot, and Christian are in Aspen for a sibling getaway. After Emma twists her ankle on a hike, she has to stay behind and miss out on the evening's festivities. When Elliot decides to come back early, he can't pass up the opportunity to mess with his little sister.
Prompt: “Quit trying to scare me! I know that’s you!”
Characters: OC Emmeline "Emma" Grey, Elliot Grey & Ryan (Emma's personal security detail)
Warnings: None?
Fifty Shades (Emmeline Grey) Masterlist
There was once a time when Emma wouldn’t allow the Greys to leave her alone, not that she had ever been truly alone—there had always been household staff close by when she was young, even if family wasn’t and once she moved out of her parents’ home, there had almost always been personal security. But when Emma was young, she’d always insisted on going along. She’d always insisted on accompanying her siblings and parents out in the world whether they wanted her company or not.
These days, Emma didn’t seem able to get enough alone time though and she had barely argued with Christian’s decree that she stay behind for the evening, citing the discharge papers from the urgent care clinic she’d been at most of the afternoon having her tender ankle looked over.
Her sister Mia had been far more vocal with her complaints that Emma would be missing out on the activities she had planned for their sibling getaway. Far more upset that all four of them wouldn’t be present for dinner and the ballet and whatever else she had planned to surprise them with in the course of the evening. The whole trip had been Mia’s idea in the first place and something which the boys had agreed to almost begrudgingly. It was just the siblings—not parents or partners—and they were all meant to take turns planning activities for the four of them to do together.
Mia had cursed Christian for being such a boring spoilsport. And she cursed Elliot for taking them on the hike where Emma had twisted her ankle. And when she was done cursing their brothers, Mia cursed Emma for being so damned clumsy in the first place, and for not revolting harder against Christian’s edicts.
Mia’s curses had riled a secondary bit of fight in Emma and she had acted disappointed enough when Christian shut her down that Mia seemed at least a little appeased, even if she was still pouting. Elliot had been the one to then point out that Mia should really look at it as a win—really, how often had she had the opportunity to spend alone time with both Grey brothers? Not since the three of them were teenagers, probably.
Emma clung to her air of disappointment until the door closed behind her siblings, but truthfully, she was grateful for the excuse. Even if she hadn’t twisted her ankle, she was exhausted from hiking. If she had joined her siblings, Emma had no doubt that she would have been yawning through dinner and asleep halfway through the ballet.
It was better to be yawning and half-asleep in front of her laptop, with only her personal security detail for company. She hadn’t seen Ryan since he made sure she was settled, reminding her that he would be close if she needed anything. It had been one of Christian’s conditions, that Ryan stay close by while the others went out.
She was sure Ryan was somewhere within shouting distance now but she hadn’t called for him, not even when her stomach grumbled, wholly unsatisfied with the snacks she’d accumulated on the coffee table before her siblings left. Emma had no intention of asking for his help anyway. If she grew hungry enough, she’d hobble over the kitchen on her own.
Emma clasped a hand over her stomach as it growled, trying to stifle the sound which seemed to reverberate off the walls of the vast great room. Emma had never noticed it before, but every sound seemed to echo in the vast space now that it was just her. Even the little ones.
She had passed countless getaways—weekends and longer stretches—in her brother’s house in Aspen, but Emma couldn’t escape the fact that she seemed to be seeing a different side of it tonight. It certainly sounded like a different house, what with the rain showers which had been coming and going for much of the evening and the random sounds whose origins Emma couldn’t quite identify.
Emma was only a little over halfway through her movie, but she had already lost count of how many times she’d paused the movie in order to strain her ears listening for a sound she could’ve sworn she’d heard, her heartbeat rising just the slightest bit each time she failed to come up with a reasonable explanation.
She knew the house well-enough that she could picture what lay beyond the glass that spanned the entire wall behind her from ceiling to floor. She could envision the deck and the landscaped yard and the grand expanse of woods just beyond that, but all Emma could actually see now was a sheet of black, the night noticeably darker here than she was used to in Seattle.
Emma paused her movie now, shifting to peer over the back of the couch and out towards the deck. She was near certain she’d heard a tapping sound—gentle, but distinct.
Deliberate, almost like a pattern.
Hearing nothing further, and not being able to see anything through the glass either, Emma set her laptop aside and shifted her attention to the dulling pain in her ankle. She rubbed at the skin, assessing its progress. It was only a little sore now, surely helped along by the fact that she’d actually been adhering to the doctor’s orders—resting and icing it as prescribed, even if she remained convinced it wasn’t entirely necessary. She was mostly fine. It wasn’t a serious injury and she was near certain she would be walking on it fine by morning.
But it was one of those things that hadn’t been worth the fight. She knew if she had really argued the point, Christian would have just placed a call to their mother, who probably would have flown herself out to see to the injury herself.
Tap…tap, tap, tap.
Emma stilled, her gaze quickly shifting from her ankle to the far end of the deck, opposite from where she would’ve sworn the noise had sounded just before. She shifted, leaning over the back of the couch as she squinted, trying to see more than a sea of black, but her own reflection in the darkened glass was more clear than anything that lay beyond it.
Tap…tap, tap, tap.
“Um…Ryan?” Emma called out into the quiet, trying to keep her voice calm even as it struggled around the sudden lump forming in her throat.
Even with as much as Emma fought her brother on the necessity of her personal security detail, she knew it was in place for a reason. It was rare that Ryan had to intervene in any real way to ensure her safety these days—he was much more frequently called to remind Emma of some sort of security protocol she was close to skirting, either intentionally or not—but there had been enough real threats in recent history that Emma couldn’t help the nervousness that swarmed her senses, the quick approach of her bodyguard’s footsteps the only thing allowing her to take a proper breath.
Emma shifted to push herself up off the couch as Ryan arrived in the darkened great room and he flicked on the lights as he proceeded to her side, blocking her way before she could rise fully from the couch.
“Do you need something, Miss Grey?” It was rare that Emma asked the man for anything aside from his discretion—something he was never obliged to agree to—but Ryan always seemed keen for the possibility of her willingly accepting his help regardless. He remained perpetually hopeful and perpetually steadfast in his following of the rules…a stickler for following each and every one of his employer’s relentless, nit-picky directives. Emma supposed that was why he, specifically, had been allocated to her personal security detail. Ryan was nearly impossible to sway as far as Emma could tell. “I can—”
“No, I…” Emma glanced toward the windows as Ryan set a hand on her arm, lowering her back to the couch cushion. “I keep hearing something. A tapping. There.” She pointed to the bottom left corner of the glass. “And over there, too.” Emma pointed to the right as well, feeling silly as she clocked the distance between the two spots she’d identified.
Emma didn’t need to say anything more before Ryan stepped toward the far wall, flicking one of the switches and bathing the deck in a sea of light. Emma closed her eyes for a long moment, feeling stupid that she hadn’t thought to do that. When she opened her eyes, Ryan was busy peering through the glass into the back yard, checking the locks as he went.
“See anything?” Emma asked as he made a second pass, retracing his steps.
Ryan shook his head as he returned to her side, slipping his phone from his pocket as he walked and tapping as he pulled up the feed for the external cameras. As with all of the Grey properties, they were protected with a number of cameras. A number of advanced security measures. Emma willed herself to remember that, to remember that she was probably safer here than most other places in the world.
“Sorry, Ryan. I’m probably just being paranoid…just hearing things,” Emma offered, a bit of stubborn heat rushing to her cheeks as she shook her head. It was bad enough that his night off had been commandeered on account of her needing to stay behind. Even if she was certain he was being paid handsomely for the extra shift, she still felt a bit guilty about it. “I didn’t mean to bother you.”
“It’s not a bother, Miss Grey,” he answered, almost absently as he watched his phone screen. “And you’re not hearing things either,” he added, turning the phone toward her to display one of the camera feeds that showed an unmistakable image of Elliot crouching behind a deck lounger.
“He’s lucky you’re not the shoot first, ask questions later type of security professional,” Emma snorted though she knew Ryan was, in fact, that type of security professional if the situation warranted it. All of the people Christian employed were that type when needed to be.
“You want me to take care of him?” Ryan asked, the slightest glint catching in his eye that almost made Emma laugh. Shows of camaraderie between the two of them were few and far between, and Emma was tempted to let him enact a little revenge on her behalf. The idea of Ryan sneaking out back and subduing Elliot in the same manner he would a real intruder was certainly intriguing if nothing else, but Emma shook her head.
“No, no.” Emma rolled her eyes. “Not within your purview. I’ll take care of him.”
She pushed off the couch, not allowing Ryan to stop or help her as she moved around him, one hand on the back of the couch as she limped toward the doors. Emma eased out onto the deck, a hand still on the door and shivering as the cool air bit her exposed skin.
“You can quit trying to scare me now!” she shouted. “I know it’s you!”
Emma shivered again as the accusation was met only by a windswept, eerie silence. She leaned to the left, trying to see behind the lounger where she’d seen him hiding in the feed on Ryan’s phone, but even with the deck illuminated, she couldn’t see a thing.
“It’s not funny, Elliot,” she insisted. “You’re not supposed to be messing around like this.”
Emma gulped at the resounding silence and turned back toward Ryan who now stood only a few steps away from the open door, his attention split between Emma and the phone screen still settled in his hand. “Can you see where—”
Her half-whispered question transformed into a strangled yelp as a pair of arms closed in on her, slipping under her knees and around her back to sweep her off her feet.
“And you’re not supposed to be putting weight on that ankle,” Elliot answered as if that particular infraction had been enough of an excuse for his trying to mess with her.
“Put me down!” Emma shouted as she slapped his shoulder.
Elliot chuckled, ignoring the request as he stepped through the open door, offering a greeting to Ryan as he passed.
Emma twisted in Elliot’s arm to look at Ryan. “Are you going to let him manhandle me like this?”
The hint of a smile played on Ryan’s face as he watched her struggle, the same bit of mischievousness she could have sworn she’d seen when he’d been ready to humble Elliot on her behalf, only it seemed to be turned on her now.
“I’m not sure that interfering in matters between you and Mr. Grey is within my purview, Miss Grey.”
Emma scoffed, even if she’d set herself up for that one in declining his support before. It had probably been her one chance to cash in on that sort of support. She should have known better than to expect the staff would ever intervene between her and her brothers. They certainly never aligned with her if Christian was involved.
“Two minutes ago you were—” Emma huffed as Elliot dropped her unceremoniously onto the couch. “Two minutes ago,” she repeated, glaring at her brother before she shifted her gaze to Ryan, “you were ready to take him out for me.”
Elliot whistled, giving Ryan an impressed nod before turning back to Emma. “Well, I’m glad that didn’t work out. I can’t imagine getting ‘taken out’ by Ryan would be a particularly enjoyable experience.”
“Her words, not mine, Mr. Grey.”
“Suck up,” Emma muttered toward Ryan before looking back to her brother. “You know it was immature trying to scare me like that. Christian would be pissed, wasting resources like that.”
Emma had heard Christian use the exact same words to describe her dalliance where security measures were concerned—an immature waste of resources.
Elliot snorted. “Well, you and I both know Christian’s no fun ninety-three percent of the time. And before you go preparing to tattle on me, consider that there’s a bag of hot, delicious food out on the deck.”
Ryan stepped outside without being asked, returning a moment later with the brown paper bag. He closed the door and secured the lock before passing the bag over to Elliot.
“I hope you brought something for Ryan, too,” she said, nodding toward him. “Especially after you created all that extra work for him and all.”
“Who do you think you’re talking to here? Some sort of monster?” Elliot asked as he retrieved two boxes from the bag, passing them off to Ryan who stammered out a mix of gratitude and insistence that it wasn’t necessary before he excused himself, leaving the siblings alone.
Emma watched him go, shifting her gaze to Elliot only once Ryan was gone. Emma reached out for the bag, the delicious scent already permeating the room causing her stomach to growl.
“You know, you kind of are a monster,” she offered.
Elliot pulled the bag from her reach just before her fingers closed around the handles. “Really?”
Emma slumped back against the couch cushions, wondering whether it was a fight worth pursuing before the food was firmly in her grasp.
“Maybe just a little bit?” she answered.
“Are you sure I’m not actually the best brother in the world? The handsome devil who brought two of your favorites? The cultured genius who volunteered to forgo the ballet with his siblings to attend to you in your time of need?”
“Is there tiramisu in that bag?” Emma asked, barely managing to ignore all of the other ridiculous assertions he’d made along with the pronouncement of his procuring her ‘favorites.’
Elliot nodded. “You know, Christian said you didn’t need any of it…Insisted there was plenty of food at home. So what’ll it be? Am I a monster or…?”
“Hand over the bag and you can be whatever you want,” Emma answered.
Elliot snorted as he deposited the bag into her lap.
“Favorite brother it is, then,” he said as he sat down beside her, watching as she set aside the pasta dish he’d brought to start with the tiramisu.
“So how did you get them to let you out of the ballet?” she asked as she swallowed down her first bite, her spoon already portioning out the next. Emma imagined that Mia had been more than a little annoyed that he was skipping out on the remainder of the evening she’d planned.
“Well, about that…" Elliot started as he settled his feet up on the coffee table. "Mia says I owe her three hours—both of us do, actually—so she’s already scheduled manicures and pedicures and facials and whatever else she deems necessary.”
“Thank god,” Emma snorted, nodding towards her brother's extended legs. “A pedicure will do you some good. Your feet are disgusting.”
Elliot let Emma have that dig without comment…let her enjoy a moment of self-satisfaction as she took another bite of the quickly disappearing dessert.
“And how did you appease our brother?” she continued. “I’m sure he wasn’t thrilled you were leaving him alone at the ballet with Mia.”
“Well…Christian’s appeasement—” Elliot reached out for the tiramisu, stealing a bite before it was gone— “is actually your purview.”
Elliot smirked as Emma tried to snatch back the tiramisu. “...so good luck with that.”
Emma huffed. “I don’t see how he's my purview. I didn’t ask for a twisted ankle or to be sequestered on this couch...and I certainly didn’t ask for you to come home early...I’m seriously rethinking bestowing the title of favorite brother on you, you know?”
Elliot shrugged, taking another bite of his sister's dessert. “I’m sure Christian would love that, though I really doubt he’ll let you off that easily…I know I wouldn’t.”
Emma reached out for the tiramisu again, successfully pulling it and the spoon into her grasp before Elliot could finish it off. “You know, you really are a monster?”
“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Call me what you will as long as you share the last few—”
“Sharing? With you?” Emma mused, cutting Elliot off as she scraped around the sides of the container to gather every last bit of dessert onto her spoon.
“I’m afraid that’s not within my purview."
Emma popped the last bite into her mouth, savoring every bit of it before she swallowed it down.
"Delicious," she hummed.
"Monster," Elliot said, the word barely above a whisper as he shook his head.
Emma merely grinned, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "I did learn from the very best."
Summary: When Emma wrecks her brother’s car and ends up in the hospital, her injuries are the least of her concerns.
Characters: Christian Grey & Emma Grey (sister!OC)
Content Warning: Takes place in an emergency room, car accident, minor injuries
A/N: Sort of requested. I picked the prompt— “How are you?” "I feel like I should ask you that.”—from this list and anon suggested Christian Grey, so here’s a piece with Christian & Emma. Also lol at me taking way too long going through GIFs to find something neutral when the tag for Christian is just endless scrolling of kinky fuckery.
Here’s the AO3 link if you prefer to read over there.
Life in the Shade (Fifty Shades) Masterlist
Emma dreaded her brother's arrival at the hospital, but she preferred the dread to other alternatives. She was happily dreading it simply because the act of dreading meant Christian had yet to arrive. It meant rather than actually experiencing her brother’s arrival, she was merely anticipating it. Maybe it would never happen. Maybe.
Emma held fast to that faint hope, the wish that their mother could successfully deter him from stopping in. It was a misguided confidence, though. Some part of Emma knew it was unlikely that the reporting of her mostly insignificant injuries could convince Christian that she would be perfectly okay, that his presence wasn’t needed.
Emma had begged her mother anyway, begged that she at least try to convince Christian that his presence in her little curtained stall at the emergency room wasn’t warranted.
There was no need for him to clear his schedule.
There was no need for him to move his meetings.
There was no need for him to come to see her.
To lecture her.
To kill her.
Emma hoped he’d refrain from the last one, but she was starting to think it may have been better to have someone convince Christian that she was seriously injured. Maybe then he'd take pity on her, spare her. Maybe.
The chances of that were quite slim though, especially since Emma had been quite lucky. She had sustained a mild concussion and injured her wrist, but it was only a sprain. The bruising and cuts across her face made her injuries appear worse than they actually were, but Emma was perfectly fine, if not a little shaken.
It was Christian's prized Audi that took the real damage. The car that she’d promised to be extra, super careful with. The car that had cost Christian more than all four years of Emma’s university education would cost.
It would probably take her months of part-time work at the publishing house to earn enough to replace just one of his custom floor mats…
A wave of nausea passed through Emma as she heard her brother ask after her through the thin curtain. Christian’s voice effortlessly carried over the chorus of beeping machines and general chaos, meeting Emma’s ears from the nurses' station down the hall.
He sounded perfectly professional, perfectly calm, if not in a bit of a rush. That much was typical. Christian always came off a bit brash, a touch impatient.
Emma’s dread shifted. Her heart pumped harder. She had really hoped their mother would be back by the time Christian arrived. Their mother could temper the conversation, attempting to keep them in line. Emma cursed her for being occupied with actual patients.
Emma’s stomach flipped when she could no longer hear Christian over the sounds of the emergency room, his conversation with the nurses tidily wrapped up. She imagined him moving steadily down the corridor and did what any person with a reasonable measure of self-preserving instinct would do. She rolled over on the hospital bed and feigned the deepest sleep of her life, willing herself to sink into the mattress, to disappear beneath the thin white blankets.
Christian knew his sister wasn't truly asleep when he stepped through the curtain. Emma fashioned herself quite good at the act, and she generally was—she'd been tricking them all for years—but the monitor beside Emma’s bed revealed to Christian a great deal more than her closed eyes and the breaths she willed herself to deepen and slow.
Christian shrugged out of his suit jacket, setting it on the chair as he stepped closer to the bed. He leaned over his sister to observe her face. Their mother had warned him that she looked worse than she was—that the bruising was a good thing—but it still unsettled him.
Even tucked under the blankets and curled away from him, Christian could see that Emma’s color was off. Pale and wan with bruises covering her face, she sported a cut on her forehead that was freshly bandaged over with gauze. A brace wrapped around her wrist, and even though Christian knew that the injuries that looked bad were less likely to actually be bad, it wasn't much of a comfort to him seeing her there in the hospital bed.
Christian lifted her chart from the end of the bed, sifting through the pages only to confirm what his mother had already told him over the phone. Emma had a concussion, somehow the third she’d sustained in as many years. She also had a sprain in her wrist, a deep laceration on her forehead requiring stitches, and a few simple bumps and bruises. Her prognosis was good. She wouldn’t be admitted. She should stay home for a few days to rest and follow up with her primary care, but she would be perfectly fine.
Christian glanced up from the chart and caught Emma looking at him, one eye cautiously squinted open while she studied the expression on his face. She quickly squeezed both eyes shut, tugging the blankets up under her chin when Christian met her gaze.
“I know you’re awake.” Christian rolled his eyes. “No need to keep up the act.”
Emma shifted away from him again, this time turning towards the door, exaggerating her movements as if she was still half asleep, as if she had any chance of fooling him now.
“Emmeline.” Christian returned the chart to its proper place at the end of the bed.
“I’m resting,” she mumbled.
“You should be, but you’re clearly not.” Christian came around to the side of the bed. “So you and I might as well—"
Emma pulled the thin blanket over her head and curled her legs into her body as Christian spoke, a shaky breath rattling through her as a lump formed in her throat. She tried to pull herself together under the blanket. Emma knew she should probably just face him and get it over with, but something in her brother's tone set her off, the way he casually slipped into the same one he used whenever embarking on a grand lecture. All of the dread and anxiety she’d been feeling since the crash had taken over from there.
Emma hadn’t even realized Christian had stopped himself before finishing his thought. Her mind was stuck on a loop. She didn't need a lecture. She had already given herself one, guilted herself worse than Christian could ever manage, and even if a part of her felt she may have possibly, maybe earned herself a lecture...even if she felt he had every right to be upset over the state of his car, she had no wish to be shouted at in the hospital emergency room.
If he’d only give her time enough to think with a clear mind, to come up with a plan to fix it…
Emma had begged and begged and begged to borrow one of Christian’s cars. She had pleaded to be allowed to not be driven around by Ryan. They’d negotiated for what felt like weeks, and when Christian had relented, Emma had promised to be careful. She had promised and promised and promised again, replacing her initial pleas with vows of caution. Pledging to be careful with his car, pledging she would follow the rules, both his and those set by the Washington State Department of Transportation. And now that she’d done this, Emma felt certain her brother would never let her hear the end of it. She’d never be allowed to sit behind a steering wheel ever again. She’d probably never again be allowed to leave the house without the shadow of security detail. He now had enough ammo piled on his side of the battle field to warrant a call for a winner in the war waged between them.
And all this when Emma had thought she was gaining ground, convincing Christian and their parents that she could manage the independence, convincing herself of it, too.
Emma swallowed the lump in her throat and a shiver passed through her drawing a whimper through her lips.
Christian’s instinct was to pull her in for a hug at hearing the sound, but he simply placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. He imagined Emma was beginning to ache by now, the adrenaline and shock finally wearing off as the tenderness set in. He didn’t want to add to that any by tugging at her.
“Em, come on. Talk to me.”
She mumbled something Christian couldn’t quite decipher—a quiet refusal.
“I’m going to need you to come out from under that blanket and tell me what’s wrong.”
Christian gently nudged Emma’s shoulder and she rolled onto her back, the heels of her palms pressed into her eyes as she tried to steady her breaths.
A cheerful voice called out from the other side of the curtain and “knock, knock, Miss Emma,” cut Christian off before he could coax his sister more.
Christian recognized the voice. He forced a straight-lipped smile as the familiar nurse came through the curtain without being granted entry. How his sister had managed to get herself a fan club at their mother’s hospital, he’d never quite understand, but Sarah had been working in that emergency room longer than Emma had been on this earth. She worked closely with their mother and the woman had tended to Emma more than once since the family’s move to Seattle.
In all that time, it had been clear Sarah had never particularly liked Christian, entirely unfazed by his influence or his usual charms. The nurse adored his sister though.
“Is this boy bothering you, Miss Emma?” Sarah looked between the two, taking in Christian’s grim face and Emma’s red, swollen eyes.
Christian snorted at her use of the word ‘boy.’ Sarah was maybe a decade older than him.
“Well, I am her brother. If I’m not bothering her, what else am I good for?” Christian said. “It’s nice to see you again, Sarah.” He bowed his head in a gentle nod.
Sarah raised an eyebrow and hummed, looking at the girl’s chart before coming around to the side of the bed opposite of Christian.
“You as well,” Sarah offered, the words coming out almost begrudgingly. “But this girl was all up in a tizzy about not wanting her brother here, so if I hear you’ve been pestering Miss Em—”
“He’s not.” Emma interrupted with a finalizing sniffle. “Hi, Ms. Sarah.” She wiped at her face before attempting to push herself up in the bed, wincing at the movement. “How are you—”
“How am I?” Sarah laughed before fixing the girl with a look. “I feel like I’m the one who should be asking you that, silly girl.” Sarah turned her gaze from Emma, meeting Christian’s eye over the hospital bed. “Are they sure it’s only a mild concussion or is she always like this?”
Christian glanced between the nurse and his sister, pressing his lips into a straight line once again, his mind settled on remaining neutral. Neutrality was the quickest way through and Christian wanted nothing more than to get through all of this small talk. He wanted to get Sarah out of the room though he couldn’t deny her presence had pulled Emma around sooner than he would have been able to. If it wasn’t for the nurse, he knew Emma would still be perched under the blankets avoiding him.
“Just about,” he offered, watching as Emma proceeded to study the pattern on her blanket, tracing it with a finger. “Is our mother around?”
Sarah nodded to Christian. “I’ll go find her.” She turned to Emma, setting a small remote in her hand. “If he’s bothering you, press the big red button and we’ll have security set him straight, alright?”
Emma nodded, forcing a smile though she could’ve sworn she felt her brother’s eyes boring a hole into the side of her face. She wiped at her eyes and face again as Sarah slipped through the curtain. Emma let out an exaggerated breath before leaning back into the pillow. “Before you start, I’m really sorry.”
Christian shook his head, dismissing it. “Sarah’s never liked me.”
It wasn’t his sister’s fault the nurse had never taken a shine to him. He didn’t care about that. He could take a little harmless badgering at the woman’s hand. It didn’t hurt and he had no illusions about the fact that he was the least likable Grey sibling.
Christian preferred it that way.
Mostly.
Emma shifted, resting on her side, facing away from him once again. She focused on her breath, pulling her mind away from the pain in her limbs, putting her energy into wishful thinking that the peace of the moment could last, that the distraction of Sarah’s entrance and Christian’s subsequent easy mood could stay until their mother arrived.
Christian cleared his throat and Emma stilled, tension thrumming through her even before he spoke.
“You don’t want me here?”
“I…I just…Can you just wait to be angry with me until we’re home?” Emma winced as she turned over to face him. “If you start yelling here…”
She stopped herself as she caught sight of him staring at her, quiet and unreadable, mulling over her words for far too long. Christian was rarely silent about anything, especially when he was angry and it made her nervous. She’d brought him to a new level and Emma mentally prepared herself for a fight, opting for bargaining before things got too out of hand, hoping she could curb things before they really did need to call security.
Christian pushed out a frustrated breath, his gaze settled across the room for a moment before turning back to her. “You think I’m angry with you?”
“Yyy…yes?” Emma offered with caution. “Because I…crashed…the…car?”
Christian nodded. “And that’s why you didn’t want me to come? That’s what all this is about?”
Emma swallowed. Surely an apology was her best move. An apology and some vague, half-cooked plan to fix it would be a sufficient offering considering she was in a hospital bed. She could pay him back. She could work for free.
“Christian, I’m sorry, I’ll—”
“I’m angry with the asshole who blew through a red light,” Christian said, cutting her off, his words overlapping with Emma’s, and running them clear over until she fell silent. Christian hadn’t even heard her. “And I’m angry with my secretary for not interrupting my meeting so I could be here sooner. And with myself…for letting this happen in the first place.”
Emma opened her mouth to interrupt, but she couldn’t find an entrance.
“But I’m not angry with you,” Christian continued. “Ryan said you were abiding by all traffic laws. Never went more than three miles over the speed limit, no texting. You hit the brakes as soon as you saw the car coming at you.”
“Ryan…?” she asked, none of his words quite making sense, the turn of her conversation making Emma’s head hurt as she grasped onto the only thing her mind could hold, the mention of her cursed security detail. “He was following me?”
Christian raised an eyebrow, looking at her with the same confusion and concern Sarah had spared her a few minutes before. “You didn’t think you were just driving around by yourself?”
“I—” She opened and closed her mouth a few times. Emma had absolutely thought she was on her own, but Christian’s explanation certainly explained why Ryan was already at the hospital when she woke up. He had been there with her all along. “But your car,” she said, “it’s—”
“My car is replaceable and very well insured,” he said. “You’re not.”
Christian watched her putting things together. He’d seen the expression a number of times while she worked on homework at the kitchen counter.
“I am, though,” she mumbled.
Part of Christian wondered if his sister’s concussion wasn’t more serious than they thought. How could she not realize that her security detail had been there all along? How could she think he’d be angry with her? How could she tell him she’s replaceable?
“Em…”
“I have insurance,” she offered, the slightest of smirks coming to her mouth as Christian rolled his eyes. Maybe she was fine after all.
“I can stay on mom and dad’s until twenty-six.”
“Very clever,” Christian said as he moved toward the chair beside her bed, searching his jacket pocket for his phone. “Maybe you should get some real rest while we wait for our mother?”
Emma didn’t argue. Though she was feeling calmer now, a deep tiredness had settled in the wake of her anxiety, and she wanted nothing more than to rest, her body feeling tired as she faced him in the hospital bed.
Christian watched her for only a moment before slipping his blackberry out of his pocket and beginning to answer emails. How could he get so many after being away from the office for no more than forty-five minutes?
“Christian?”
“You’re supposed to be resting,” he murmured as he continued typing out a message to his secretary.
“The car drove nice,” Emma offered anyway. “Really nice.”
Christian snorted, looking up from the device to meet her eye for a moment. “It’s a shame you didn’t take her over the speed limit. Now you’ll never get the chance.”
Emma huffed. “Never?”
Christian’s eyes moved back to the device. “Never.”
Emma sighed, watching him again, waiting for him to finish typing. “Chris?”
He glanced up at her again, eyebrow raised.
“I am sorry.”
Christian set his phone down, frowning. “I know you are,” he said, giving her a nod. “I appreciate that.”
Christian could have fought her again, telling her that she didn’t have anything to apologize for, that he was just grateful she was alright, but for whatever reason, those words weren’t settling. She couldn’t hear them, preoccupied with the broken car, almost detached from the what-ifs that had been gripping Christian since hearing of the accident.
He could replace the car. The fine Nappa leather interior, the thirteen-speaker custom sound system, the V10 engine—those were all things he could reacquire with a mere phone call or an email. Sisters on the other hand…family…that wasn’t something money or status could ever replace.
Emma and Elliot for the five line fanfics: “wear the ugly Christmas socks or I’ll toss your gift in the trash.”
“Wear the ugly Christmas socks or I’ll toss your gift in the trash.”
Emma was already pulling on the socks, fitting the green and red striped fabric over her black sheer stockings. It looked atrocious—the green of the socks was a far different shade from the evergreen velvet dress Mia had picked out for their family photo, but Emma didn’t care. She would have worn the socks whether Elliot threatened to toss her gift or not.
“You brought the tie, too, right?” Emma asked, briefly glancing away from her image in the mirror to look at her brother as he stepped up to her side, pulling the tie out of his pocket and fitting it around his neck.
“It’s too bad Christian won’t wear the hat anymore,” Emma said before turning to straighten her brother’s tie. “Too terrified of Mia to have any fun.”
“Yeah, well...” Elliot took over the work of tie straightening. “Christian’s pretty lame these days if you haven’t noticed.”
Neither of them had realized the lame brother in question had been within earshot until he cleared his throat from his spot in the doorway.
“Says the grown man wearing a neck tie shaped like a Christmas tree,” Christian scoffed, sending both Elliot and Emma into a fit of uncontrollable giggles.
send me an ask with the first sentence of a fanfic and I’ll write the next five-ish.
I’ve really enjoyed reading your 5 line fics!! Not sure if you’re still accepting prompts, but here’s a fun one: “I can’t smile at you, I’m mad” with Elliot & Emma!
Glad you're enjoying them!
“I can’t smile at you, I’m mad.”
“Mad at me?” Emma asked, turning towards her brother as he settled beside her on the beach blanket with a huff rather than returning her smile. “What did I do?”
Emma couldn’t imagine what Elliot could be mad about seeing as it was barely 7 am and they were on vacation, enjoying one of the most beautiful, peaceful beaches that Emma had ever seen.
“Mia says you’re backing out of ziplining?” Elliot said, lifting his sunglasses to meet her eye. “You don’t want to go?”
It wasn’t exactly the truth—Elliot and Emma had been talking about the excursion for almost as long as the vacation had been planned, but after so many days of constant noise and bickering and teasing…of constantly being surrounded by siblings and partners with no reprieve…that had Emma wanting nothing more than to be alone.
“I just need a break.”
Elliot looked skeptical. “Would you still need a break if I told you Christian and Ana decided to go out for lunch instead?” he asked, watching for a change in his sister, “Or that Mia and Kate decided shopping was more enticing than hiking and ziplining for hours?”
Mia glanced at her brother. “So it’d just be you and me?”
“Just you and me,” Elliot confirmed. “Think you can tolerate your favorite brother for a few hours?”
Emma shrugged as she turned back to the water, watching the tide roll in. “Can I think about it?”
💠 FIVE LINE FRIDAYS 💠
send me an ask with the first sentence of a fanfic and I’ll write the next five-ish.
