Emmeline Vance, Tinworth personified (emmeline) wrote in cultureic, @ 2016-06-08 21:02:00 |
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Entry tags: | benjy fenwick, emmeline vance |
WHO: Emmeline Vance and Benjy Fenwick
WHEN: Backdated to 6 June, 2016, directly after this
WHERE: The Vance-Fenwick flat in Tinworth
SUMMARY: Aftermath
WARNINGS: Just vague references to injuries/the linked log!
The second she’d been able, Emmeline apparated straight into her flat, lucky that she didn’t splinch herself on the way. Her head was throbbing, her heart racing, and she closed her eyes as she braced herself against the wall. Just for a minute. Just to catch her breath. The full weight of the situation was starting to crash into her and for a second she thought she was going to be sick. And then she opened her eyes and realized she wasn’t the only person in the room. “Oh,” she said before coughing a little to clear her throat. “Okay so, this probably looks bad. It’s not— I mean it is but— I mean I probably just really fucked up but— I can definitely clean the blood off the wall though, so don’t freak out.” “I’m freaked,” Benjy managed after a moment, suddenly remembering how to move. He’d stilled at the very sudden, very bloody appearance of Emmeline, his imagination conjuring up all kinds of horrible scenarios for what could’ve gone wrong. But the ‘panicked boyfriend’ mindset was swapped out for something more clinical, his gaze sweeping over her as he assessed her visible injuries. Finally, his eyes settled on her arm. His jaw tightened. “What happened? You look like you got hit by an artic.” “Thorfinn fucking Rowle.” Emmeline tried to shrug but her shoulders barely moved before she decided it wasn’t worth the effort. Or the pain. “I was in his flat. He came home. It didn’t go great? I’m probably going to be arrested except I obliviated him? Because that’s a thing I know how to do! So I don’t know! I’m fine though!” She had a feeling she sounded about as hysterical as she was starting to feel about the whole thing. She took a deep breath in an attempt to steady herself, looking at Benjy. “On a scale of 0 to completely fucked, I might be the latter.” “You’re not completely fucked.” It was an automatic, instinctive response: Emmeline very well could be completely fucked, for all he knew. As the full weight of her words sunk in, it seemed like there was a fifty-fifty chance the DMLE would have another vigilante to try to track down. But Benjy kept his voice calm and steady, and his eyes were intent as he gingerly placed a hand on her shoulder. “You are hurt, though, so I should take care of that before it gets worse.” A pause, then he tried to inject a little humor in the situation by adding, “Did you get to fuck him up before you obliviated him?” It wasn’t a bad attempt as Emmeline managed a very small smile and a huff that never quite made it to a laugh. “I spat in his face, kneed him in the balls, and bashed a decent part of a door into his head?” It wasn’t as much as she’d wished she’d done, but it wasn’t nothing, considering. She could’ve done without getting her own head cracked against a wall though. The headache was catching up with her. There was a beat before she stepped forward, slipping her arms around him and pulling Benjy into a hug, despite the pain and the blood and everything else. The hand to her shoulder wasn’t enough contact. “I really might be completely fucked. Even if he doesn’t remember, he’ll know it was me.” Benjy’s arms instinctively wrapped around Emmeline, though his grip wasn’t as tight as it usually was — he was too conscious of her injuries. He felt her melt into him as he traced circles at the small of her back with his fingertips. Something sharp writhed in his chest at the thought of Thorfinn fucking Rowle doing something to hurt Emmeline once again. And once again, a small voice in the back of his mind unhelpfully pointed out, there wasn’t much Benjy could do to help her. Pushing the thought aside, he pressed a kiss to the crown of Emmeline’s head, then another. His voice was somewhat muffled by her curls as he angrily pronounced, “Fuck him! It’s not like the Order’s not got his number. He’s not going to do anything to you, I promise. I’d not let him.” He couldn’t promise that. Emmeline was pretty sure that they both knew that it wasn’t something he could promise, not something that anyone could really promise. She didn’t need him to protect her, anyway. She just needed him to be around. But instead of saying that she just hugged him, finding more comfort in that action than from anything he could possibly say. The situation was fucked but for a moment she pushed it aside, her face buried in the fabric of his shirt. She just wanted a moment to breathe. Eventually though, she pulled away just enough to look up at him, eyes studying his face, taking note of his expression. “Benjamín, I—” A beat. “—I grabbed a vial of something, I was hoping you could identify it for me? It might be fucked up steroids or something but on the off chance that it’s actually something…” She trailed off, the words that tumbled out very different than the ones she’d actually meant to say. He was taken aback for a moment, unsure if he wanted to press her about what she was originally going to say. Emmeline rarely used his full name. His lips parted, the question on the tip of his tongue— “Yeah?” Benjy asked instead, with a thoughtful tilt of his head. He held her gaze as he reached up to brush his fingertips against her temple, his thumb gently roving over bruised skin. “Good sleuthing work, Nora.” A pause. “If it’s something, I should be able to figure it out. If I can’t—” His mouth twisted into a self-deprecating smile. “Lily’ll be able to do it.” Another pause, more weighted than the first. Then: “You’ve seen The Thin Man, right?” Emmeline pursed her lips in consideration before shaking her head very slowly, mindful of the fact that it was still very much throbbing. “No, I don’t think so.” She never had gotten around to it before the WFC opening. Or after, and there was a beat before she offered a small smile in consolation. “Nick and Nora Charles,” he explained, “are a married couple, obviously, who solve murder mysteries. She’s notable for not being the sort of wife you usually saw on film at the time — sharp, brassy, bossy, kind of a lush. They bantered a lot, but they were equals. That was also unusual for the time.” Benjy’s fingers drifted down, and he tilted her chin up as his smile turned fond. “Obviously, it’s not the best comparison. Mostly, I was thinking about this one exchange when Nora asks Nick if he’s got types. And he says something like, ‘only you, darling—lanky brunettes with wicked jaws.’ ... not that you’re lanky,” he added quickly. Sheepishly, he scrubbed a hand against the side of his jaw. “This sounded a lot smoother in my head.” “It sounds okay to me.” Emmeline looked up at him, nerves that had nothing to with Thorfinn Rowle and everything to do with the words she’d nearly said and then didn’t rattling around inside her and catching in her throat. Her arms tightened around him, just a little, and she looked away for a moment. But it was only a moment before her eyes focused back on his face, and she smiled — a little tentative, a little scared. Though it was a silly thing to be scared of, she realised. “I love you. That’s what I was really going to say.” “I know.” A beat. “I mean, I know that’s what you were going to say, I’m not trying to go all Han Solo on you.” There was a nervous, shaky laugh, and Benjy briefly ducked his head while he drew in a centering breath. When he met her gaze again, his eyes were calm, clear, and certain. “I love you too.” Benjy leaned down and kissed her — cautiously. She was still bleeding. “And because I love you,” he murmured against her lips, “I should heal you sooner rather than later.” She made a soft hum of disagreement, leaning up to kiss him back even though she knew that he was right. But Emmeline wanted a moment to enjoy this, to memorize how it felt, and she intended to take it. Even if it wasn’t a long one. Her smile as she pulled away was grander — happier — than what she’d managed before. “Then you better get to it, Nick,” Emmeline said finally, “because I’ve got a bit of a mental list of things I’d like to do right now, and I’d like to get to them.” |