InsaneJournal

WHO: Emma and Namor
WHAT: Reunited and it feels so good
WHEN: Sunday, Aug 19
WHERE: Some lounge in the OC
WARNINGS: PG Flirting.



It was funny how the world worked. Emma had always known the universe to have a bizarre sense of humor, but to find herself in so unusual a place left her thinking that there was perhaps someone or something in the clouds that had it out for her. It was strange that Namor would appear so suddenly and right in the middle of a period where she wasn’t talking to Scott. If she were of superstitious stock, she might have considered this to be either a blessing or a curse. But, of course, she wasn’t so silly as to believe in such things.

Emma decided to reach out to Namor electronically, giving him a time and a location and telling him to not have any expectations. As fun as it was to consider giving in to dark deeds, Emma knew she couldn’t go through with such things. She cared for Scott and also for Namor and knew that playing games with either would only end in upset for one or both.

Still, she’d considered setting the location of their meeting in a bar named Fling. Because it’d be fun to tease Namor in such a way. And the prospect of showing dressed in something elegant and form fitting lingered in the back of Emma’s mind. She told herself that this was because she wanted to show him what he’d missed out on by leaving her and not to entice him. In the end, though, she’d shifted through a number of outfits in her wardrobe... including her costume, which she silently sneered at, and settled on something casual.

She drove to a small lounge, took a seat at the bar, and waited, trying not to feel as nervous as she did.

Emma’s message had been terse, and had reiterated that Namor was to have no expectations. And he didn’t. He had hopes, which were different, and altogether more dangerous. Expectations could be dashed with a simple “no.” Hope carried on even after, waiting for the time that it would be “yes.”

Hope had made him its slave in the past, then cast him aside when it was done. He shouldn’t let it happen again.

He took a cab to the address that Emma had given him. His image of her was still of the delicate, soft, wickedly clever brunette he’d known in his youth. Intellectually, he knew that she’d have changed, but part of him was still looking for that girl when he walked in.

The person he found sitting at the bar was, to outward appearances, unrecognizable as his college lover. Brunette had become blonde, the features of her face had changed over time, and this woman carried herself with a more genuine poise and confidence than the Emma he’d known.

But from the look in her eye and the not-quite smile on her lips, this was unquestionably Emma Frost. He walked up to her and failed to hide a genuine smile. “Hello, Emma.” He tried to think of something to say besides I’d like to press you up against the wall and have my way with you, and came up with, “You’ve changed your hair.”

There was a moment when Emma's brows knit together. It'd been so long that she'd remembered things differently. But then as she considered his words, she realized that if he'd seen her blonde while they'd been lovers, it had probably only been for a brief period. "New nose, as well," she smirked, turning from the bar to give him her full attention.

There was a small part of her that wanted to hug him, because she'd once considered him a good friend, but she refrained, unsure of where they currently stood with each other. She did notice that his accent had softened almost to the point of disappearing and that he was thicker than when he'd left her. There was also a quiet tension between them, but that Emma had expected to some extent. "You've filled out," she commented, holding her hand out delicately for him to take.

Namor took her hand and gently kissed it. It came to him before he even realized, despite some ten years having passed since princely manners were expected of him. “You’re lovely,” he said. “I’ve missed you.” He hadn’t necessarily intended the words to come out, but he didn’t shy away from it once they did. He had missed her. Ten years was a long time to miss someone, but seeing her again, smelling her perfume, hearing her voice had the feeling rush back as crisp and sharp as it ever was.

Taking the seat next to her, he motioned to her empty glass. “May I get you another drink?”

"Feel free." She shifted back in her seat so that they didn't crowd one another and felt mild surprise race down her spine. That he'd so earnestly admit that he missed her so soon in the evening seemed to indicate that he'd grown some. The Namor she'd once known had been harder and, Emma thought, wouldn't have allowed such sentiment to slip through so quickly. "I've missed you, as well," she said after he spoke to the bartender, her voice quiet. She wondered idly if she felt this way more keenly because she was having a spat with the important people in her life. It was a selfish thought that she tried to quickly hide away.

"Tell me, how have you been?"

A decade’s time had made the casual inquiry into a complex one. From heir apparent to deckhand to captain to entrepreneur to CEO was a long story. He settled for, “I have had a storied life, but I think that, on the whole, it’s been a good one.” He sipped his Gibson and struggled for something to say that wasn’t a declaration of his intent to bed her, which weighed heavily on his mind right now.

“I’m more interested in your life. Jean tells me that you are still not engaged. Should I take that to mean that you’re not married?” It may have said something of Emma that his assumption of her was that she would marry Jean or no one, but it probably said more of Namor.

"Good." Emma found herself wanting to ask questions, to press him for more details. She was genuinely curious about where he'd gone and what had happened to him as she hadn't bothered looking him up in his absence and their brief communication online led her to believe that things had been interesting back in his homeland. She didn't ask, though, not only because he steered the conversation her way, but also because a certain level of intimacy they’d once shared was gone and Emma didn't want to appear rude.

"No, I'm not married." She smirked, getting the distinct feeling that he was asking that particular question because he had intentions. There was a brief pause, only the slightest hesitation, and then she added, "I am seeing someone."

She still saw through him. The smirk on her lips gave her away. Namor had never been especially good at hiding his intentions, regardless of her perception, but she had always been able to read him.

The brief pause between her admission that she was still single and her admission that she was dating someone had Namor’s hopes rise and fall like an empire. Still, though, they’d dated other people when they started out, all those years ago. He didn’t even remember if they’d ever declared that they were “dating” as such; it just happened. “Oh?” he said, leaning forward. “Tell me about this paramour of yours. What does Emma Frost demand of her partners now?”

He had the look of an eager puppy and Emma could, even without her useful powers, see what he was trying to do. It was predictable only because she could see herself doing exactly the same thing if their roles had been reversed. She grinned, finding it almost comforting. For the past week, she'd spent her time alone and feeling miserable because she hadn't had someone to connect to. And now here was Namor, being the prick that she would have been, had she had the courage for it.

"A decade apart and this is what you want to discuss?" Emma asked, the slightest hint of laughter in her tone. "There are more interesting topics to catch up on.” A pause and her words had a sly edge. “And you really could be more subtle in your approach, darling."

“Subtlety has never been my strength, madam. If you could see inside my mind, I think you would be very impressed at my restraint thus far.” His grin was a wicked one, and likely a familiar one to Emma, as he’d worn it so many times when whispering sweet nothings and dirty words in her ear.

Leaning away and taking another sip of his drink, he said, “Forgive me for descending into old habits. What would you have me ask?”

"You could ask me about my life," Emma said. Without really meaning to, because the idea had been planted in her head, she used her powers to peek into his thoughts. She pulled away just as suddenly when the images that flooded her vision came into focus. A shyer woman would have blushed; Emma's only sign of being flustered was how her lips curled in spite of her best efforts. "About," she said, "my falling out with my family. Or you could tell me what Winston's saying, as I'm dying to know. You could ask me why I'm still here, or what I'm planning to do with myself in the future. You could tell me about your European adventures, about your company, or about how badly you've missed me." She leaned forward, "Forget that last one. Slip of the tongue."

Emma didn't feel guilty about flirting. It came as second nature to her. And it was largely harmless.

“It seemed... forward to ask of your family right away. It’s been a long time. It might have been too personal.” He paused and reflected on their conversation. “More personal than you might be comfortable with, at any rate.” There was little room in his mind for an Emma Frost that was uncomfortable with being lusted after, so he didn’t consider implying that he was mind-fucking her to be too personal.

Since she had asked, he said, “When I asked after you at the Frost event, your father didn’t respond. Your mother, however, said, ‘Oh, didn’t you hear, darling? We only have the one daughter now.’ And then she spilled her champagne on my suit.”

While he was going too far without having her object, he brushed a bit of hair behind her ear and said, “And I have missed you.”

In the most casual of gestures, Emma brushed Namor's hand away from her hair. It was necessary to set boundaries, she knew. Because even if he didn't want to cross personal boundaries when it came to discussion, she had the sinking suspicion that he'd be all over her if she didn't stop him.

"I don't mind talking about it," Emma admitted. "There's very little that can scandalize me. And it was my choice," she admitted. "Whatever the fallout, where I am with my family now is my own doing. I cannot shy away from that." She laughed. "I simply cannot wait for Adrienne to have a nervous breakdown. It's only a matter of time now. She's never been especially good at dealing with stress."

“Your mother wasn’t taking the tension well either. I think she may have been trying to seduce me. Or it was possible her offer to have my suit dry-cleaned immediately while I stayed in one of the myriad bedrooms was genuine.” He had politely declined the offer. “Perhaps this will be how she relieves her stress. Some find it very relaxing.” Not the way that we did it, obviously, he refrained from adding, but only just.

“Since you’ve given me permission to ask, why did you fall out? Your family wasn’t very forthcoming.” This was an understatement. Hazel had been the likeliest to share, but once she’d been kept away from the drinks table for long enough, even she refused to divulge any but the most superficial details.

"Please," Emma laughed, "I don't want to think about my mother's sad attempts at seduction. Especially of men with which I have a history." Honestly, she didn't care one way or another what her mother did or with whom. What Emma actually found far more interesting was the fact that the Frosts seemed to be cracking a bit at the seams. Perhaps they had had some dreams as well. Maybe they were having similar identity crises to the one Emma found herself going through.

"Would you laugh if I told you that I had a vision in a dream?" Emma asked this in a oddly earnest manner, not caring that he wouldn't understand. Her gaze seemed to unfocus for a moment. She had an urge to tell him what she'd been going through but knew she couldn't. At least not right away. "Really," she said, turning back to him, "I simply grew tired of having my identity so tied to that of my father. Having always lived under his shadow, always done what he wanted, I hadn't done anything for myself. I saw my life stretched out before me and I didn't especially like where I was going." A pause. "And I realized that my father... my parents, actually... they're not good people." She smiled. "I'm not either, but they're worse and I'd much rather not be so tied to them." The thought of being in their debt turned her stomach more than a little bit.

Namor was a businessman now, but was a sailor by trade and a prince by birth, and both are positions prone to superstition. It wasn’t his first inclination to dismiss her when she said that she’d had a dream that led her away from her family, although he’d have never thought it was the whole story. Emma’s longer version of it made a bit more sense. “I’m sure leaving was difficult. Leaving my family was... well, rage can be soothing when bitter work must be done, but I wouldn’t want to be in the position again.”

"Surprisingly, it wasn't," Emma admitted. "I felt bad for a short period, but it was the right decision. And their reaction was proof positive of that." It felt good to have him share; Emma didn't much like a one sided conversation. There was just a little too much vulnerability when she was the only one sharing history. "What happened with your family?" she asked it in a cautious sort of way, understanding that he might not want to go into graphic detail.

Emma knew of the circumstances of his leaving: that his uncle had died and his grandfather was likely to follow. It wasn’t something that he enjoyed thinking about, not least because, even now, knowing what he did, he’d still make the same choice. “When I was called home, my grandfather was in critical condition in the hospital, and doing his best to take up the responsibilities that his brother was shirking.” His voice was distant, as if he were reliving the experience over again. It was the first time he’d ever told anyone of the events of his departure. “I convinced him that he would push himself into the grave if he continued, and had him name me regent so I could act in his stead. When I excelled at the role, he said that he would make the arrangements to name me the next in line to the throne. Then he became well again, and he declined to go forward with his promise.” Namor laughed, bitterly. “Grandfather tried to comfort me. He said that I had the potential to be a great ruler, and that, even with the time to train him, his brother might only make a decent one. But a decent heir was always preferable to a great bastard.”

He shook himself out of his reverie and said, “So having burned all my bridges here, I left home, hopped on the first ship that would take me, and that has been my life ever since.”

Emma listened to his story with sympathy. His story sounded like something out of a soap opera. Or a Frost family dinner. She frowned when he mentioned burning his bridges, but said nothing in direct response to it. “I’m sorry,” she said after a moment. She considered everything she could possibly say, but knew it all fell rather short. Snide comments about revenge on his family were laughable, mocking his pain was cruel. “I’m glad,” she said quietly, “that it worked out in your favor eventually.”

“Eventually,” he agreed. It hadn’t felt like the right decision at the time so much as the only one, but looking back, it had worked out.

This much revelation was making him feel vulnerable, so he pushed it back to Emma. “Shipping cargo isn’t terribly exciting, I’m afraid. What of your life? So far I’ve heard of one event in the last few months; more must have happened in the decade since we parted.”

Emma considered for a moment. What stood out most was what she'd gone through the last few months. She had powers, a boyfriend, and a lifetime of memories she'd much rather forget. There was no way to discuss these things with him, even though she wanted to.

"I had a promising career for a time. I'm certain I would have run Frost Industries, but you know how that ended. There were brief flings. I've traveled." She smirked. "I've been dull, I suppose. Though some recently past life regression therapy has been utterly enlightening." The last sentence was phrased as a joke and was as close to the truth as she would allow right now. Maybe later she'd be able to show him what she could do, maybe she'd eventually be able to tell him about the loss and the fights and the few victories that had made another life worth living.

"Right now, I'm not sure where I am. It's an interesting time. It's so rare a thing for me to be unsure of myself. But I think perhaps it means I'm growing that I'm not as certain about what I want to do with myself."

“I occupied a similar place at one point in my life. It may be some time before your new identity, having so cast off your old one. But I am confident you will.” Namor grinned at her and leaned back in his chair. “There are three constants in the universe: the speed of light, the law of gravity, and Emma Frost gets what she wants.”

Emma smiled a little and took his hand for just a moment--a friendly gesture, nothing else, but an intimate one nonetheless.

The evening turned into night, and the night into the small hours of the morning. By the time they (or rather, Emma) declared it time to separate, it was only because the lounge had closed around them. Their relationship had not resumed where it had left off, but neither had it died, even with a decade between seeing one another. Whatever they were now, each still had a place in the other’s life.