Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Mr. Woods.” 

Emmett glances up from his wallet, and he can’t help the flutter in his chest or the small grin on his lips at the loving, lazy and cat-like smile that’s drunkenly curling on Elle’s lips as she stares at him like he’s the only person in the room— which, considering they’re in a crowded bar in the middle of Boston, is an extra special feat.

“I’m not Mr. Woods yet,” he finds himself teasing as he goes back to thumbing through his wallet, his tone probably sounding dorky and overwhelmingly affectionate despite the usual dryness of his humor. Emmett finally finishes counting out enough cash to cover the bill, and when he glances back over his shoulder to see the rowdy, energetic, plastered state of Elle’s party, he pulls out another couple bills for a bigger tip.

The bartender gives him a nod, and then Emmett pockets his wallet before turning back to Elle.

“My hero!” she chimes out, as cliche and dramatically as if he’d just saved the entirety of New England single-handedly. 

The amount of pride that swells in his chest at the reaction is honestly stupid, but he can’t help it. He probably also can’t help but show it on his face despite his best attempts, based on the knowing smile that Vivienne gives him as she and the rest of the party walk over.

“I didn’t do all that much,” Emmett chuckles out, to which Elle responds with an indignant pout as she leans heavily against his side. He moves to wind a steadying arm around her shoulder, and her fingers start playing with the fabric of his t-shirt.

“Nuh-uh!” she slurs out. “You totally saved our— hic — butts. I can’t believe I forgot my wallet.”

“You could have just let us pay for it, you know,” Enid points out, the slow, slightly dazed blinking of her eyes betraying her drunkenness as well.

“No no no, that won’t do.” Elle wags her finger, but it’s a few inches to the left, meaning it's sent in the direction of the musicians taking a short break on stage instead of her intended target. “It’s my bachelorette party, and you all planned everything so I told you it would be my— my treat! I couldn’t be a bad host and go back on my word like— hic— like that! It goes against my moral code.”

Vivienne, who has a light flush on her cheeks but otherwise looks the least drunk of all of them, crosses her arms with an affectionate smile. “And we would never let Elle go against her moral code.”

“Ever!” chimes in a chorus of Serena, Margot, and Pilar, and Emmett suddenly realizes that half of Delta Nu is in this bar right now, meaning when Elle said she had a big bachelorette party planned she meant it— not that he ever doubted her.

He vaguely considers slipping the bartender another ten.

“Well, I’m happy to have helped,” Emmett says.

On the receiving end of what has turned into a full side-hug from his fiancée, Emmett glances down at the feeling of Elle nudging her nose into his side, her hand currently rubbing circles into his stomach through the fabric of his shirt in a way that vaguely makes him wonder if she thinks he’s Bruiser right now.

The large group of inebriated sorority sisters and Harvard Law graduates that are now taking up room on the main floor despite having just had their tab closed is getting dirty looks from the bartender, so Emmett finds himself asking, “So where were you ladies planning to go to next?”

“Home,” Vivienne says before anyone else can, in a tone that leaves no room for argument. That doesn’t mean there isn't a chorus of whines and pouts, though, to which she responds, ever the convincing lawyer, “I don’t think any of us want an awful hangover to ruin the wedding.” 

“You’re sooo right!” Pilar says, clutching at Enid next to her like the two of them drunkenly became the best of friends tonight. “We can’t do that to Elle— girls we have to be in top-tip shape tomorrow! Otherwise who’s going to be there for all of Elle’s needs!”

“Or catch the bouquet!” Serena adds.

“Or throw it back on the dance floor!” Margot chimes in, as the group starts heading out the door and into the chilly Boston night.

“Or be ready to hand out tissues when Emmett cries?” Vivienne is tall enough to make direct eye contact with Emmett as she says this, which means she is also tall enough to see the playfully dirty look he sends her back as everyone breaks out into laughter. 

He swears that he sees her stick her tongue out at him for a split second, and that’s how Emmett knows for sure that Elle got everyone drunk tonight.

Though no one more than herself, it seems, as her walk (usually impeccable, no matter the footwear) is stumbling on the sidewalk. It’s not like he minds the way she’s leaning heavily on him— honestly it’s a pleasant connection to the human space heater that is his fiancé, making it easy to fight back against the cool breeze— but the fussy part of Emmett is worried she’s going to twist her ankle or something the night before their wedding.

“...be meeting up at 8 A.M. sharp, tomorrow,” Vivienne has been saying, carrying on the conversation for the last few moments of the walk as she grills all the women on the itinerary. “Got it?” 

After she’s answered with a chorus of agreement, ranging anywhere from bright and peppy to exhausted and slurred, she turns to Emmett and Elle. “You two live nearby, right? Go on ahead. I’ll make sure everyone gets in a cab.”

“You sure you’ll be alright?” Emmett double checks, feeling mildly guilty that she’s taking on so much responsibility.

Regardless her smile is as easily confident as it always is, and Emmett reminds himself that there’s a reason she and Elle became fast friends as soon as they had actually gotten to know each other.

“We’ll be fine. Go get some rest, and I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

He nods, and mouths a ‘thank you.’ 

He’s about to round the corner to start heading in the direction of home, Elle still latched to the side, when her hand clenches against the fabric of his shirt, stopping him.

“Wait, ladies!” she says, and her eyes still slightly fuzzy but still hold their usual sunny cheer that drew Emmett to her in the first place. “I just wanted to— hic — say, thank you for making this night one of the most memer...membera… memorable nights of my life! I’m so, so thankful to have met and known all of you, through different stages in my life, and I can’t wait to share my happiest— hic— day with you!” Despite her slurring, Elle’s words are no less genuine. 

“And I’m sure Emmett can’t wait either!” Elle continues, a pleased look on her face. “He was just going on the other day about how excited he is. Oh—! But don’t tell him I said that!” She looks as scandalized as if she had just leaked a government secret, despite the man in question being the very one she’s propped up against. “I think he likes it when people don’t know how big of a softie he is.” She raises a hand to her mouth, then proceeds to whisper very loudly, “but he’s a huuuge softie.”

The group breaks out into another fit of laughter. It’s Margot who says, “Don’t worry, girl! We won’t tell him.”

And for the second time that night, Vivienne makes direct eye contact with him, before moving her gaze to Elle and just as loudly ‘whispering,’ “But I think he might know that we know anyway.”

Elle giggles pleasantly. “Yeah, I think you might be right!”

Emmet finds himself rolling his eyes, but otherwise says nothing as he keeps an arm comfortably wrapped around Elle’s shoulder. 

After a few more goodbyes are exchanged, he and Elle do start heading off in the direction of home. The walk is pleasant despite the slightly biting cold of Boston’s early spring, but after a few minutes Emmett gets mildly unnerved by the silence. 

It’s not that he’s uncomfortable in silences— in all honesty he used to largely prefer them, but then he met Elle woods. And it’s not that she’s never silent, but it’s more like having her presence in his life has set a new expectation for ambient noise. 

It started from the early days of spending time in her dorm, studying and working together. At first the sounds of her tapping her pencil, humming to herself, or absently singing along to the latest song to get popular used to distract him, but without realizing it Emmett had come to expect the noises, and even deeply enjoy them. It only happened more when they started a relationship. Sounds of Elle talking on the phone in the other room, or of her snoring softly next to him (despite her insisting that she doesn’t), or of her typing away on her keyboard as she worked were some of the smaller things Emmett enjoyed most in living with her.

And now she’s just silent. 

She is at least still walking next to him— or, well, against him— so that is a good sign that she’s at least not passed out from the alcohol.

Very, very gently he jostles her shoulders with the arm that’s still around them, and says “Hey, Elle?”

“Mmm?” she responds back, blearily.

“Earth to Elle Woods. How’re you doing, love?”

“Oh!” When she looks up at him her eyes, green and glittering with joy, focus on him, and a bright smile crosses over her face as if she’s seeing him for the first time tonight. “Emmett! You’re here!”

A laugh bubbles out of his chest at that. “Yep, here I am.” As he speaks, he steers the two of them down one edge of the sidewalk so that another couple going the opposite way has room to pass them. “How’re you feeling?”

“Good! So good. Did you—” Elle’s voice drops to a whisper as she widens her eyes, expressions exaggerated and adorable in a very drunken way, and again she looks like she’s about to divulge the world’s juiciest piece of gossip. “Did you know I’m getting married tomorrow?

“Oh yeah?” he asks, playing along. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

Pleased, Elle giggles, a sound so heart-warming that Emmett feels like he could run a marathon in just a pair of boxers right now through all of Massachusetts and be fine. “Oh, he’s the greatest guy. His name is— hic— Emmett, and he’s my best friend. You should meet him sometime, I think you two would get along!”

Still chuckling, Emmett simply shakes his head fondly at that, before deciding to switch gears. “How was your party tonight?”

“Good!” The blonde chirps, beaming. “Oh it was so much fun— did you know Vivienne is surprisingly great at planning a party? I mean, she had the Delta Nu girls to help her out, but after all those boring law school parties we went to I really didn’t know she had it in her!”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah! There was karaoke, and drinking games, and more penis-shaped foods than you could possibly think could exist, let me tell you.”

When they take a left, laughter bubbling out of them both, Emmett can see their apartment building a few ways away down the street. “That sounds wonderful. Please tell me you got a video of her singing.”
The smile on Elle’s face looks beyond pleased. “Oh, absolutely. She and Pilar did a duet to Total Eclipse of the Heart. It was a work of art. The only down-side of the night was when I realized I forgot my wallet at home… Oh!” 

In a moment of more clarity than he’s seen from her tonight, Elle looks up at her fiancé with wide, apologetic eyes. “Oh, Emmett! I only just realized you came rushing over to pay my bill as soon as I called. I didn’t ruin your bachelor party, did I?”

“No, no, no,” Emmett says easily, trying not to laugh at the unfairly adorable and concerningly accurate ‘sad puppy’ look on her face right now. “We were just about wrapped up when you called, it worked out perfectly.”

Elle’s expression goes back to the resting ‘bubbly and pleased’ look she’s had since he met her tonight at the bar, satisfied. 

Only two more crosswalks are between them and the building, and Emmett’s thankful for it, since he can tell from the way she leans on him more heavily that Elle is clearly getting tired.

“So…” she slurs, energy in her voice not deterred either way. “How was your party? What did you guys do? Loud bar? Strippers? Drinking contest?”

“Uh…” Emmett feels his face flush, and not just because of the cold. “No, none of that.”

“Why do you sound like someone died? Did you go to a— hic— funeral home for your party?”

“No, we… Ugh.” With his free hand the brunette scratches the back of his head awkwardly, trying to find a way to make it sound like he hadn’t just actively chosen to have what is potentially the nerdiest bachelor party in existence. “My buddy Matt— the one from my highschool— ran a Dungeons and Dragons one shot for us, so we played that all night after playing a drinking game to Casablanca.” 

“Awww! That is so sweet. Did you have fun?”

Emmett grins. “Yep.”

“Good!” 

Another moment or two pass in silence, before Elle suddenly bursts out into loud, giddy laughter. Emmett shoots her a look, chuckling himself because of just how infectious Elle Woods’ laugh is, but not completely sure what’s cracked her up. She shows no sign of stopping, though, and from his closeness he can see the tears that start pooling around the corner of her eyes. 

He has to grab her shoulder a bit more firmly to keep them both upright as her laughter shakes her whole body. “Elle? What’s up?”

“It’s— Hah! You just— you sounded so nervous to tell me that. I was worried that you— that you actually went to a funeral home, or something!”

Smiling, Emmett lets out a sigh. “Was I really that bad?”

“Abso— hic— lutely. I thought you were going to call off the wedding for a second there, or something!”

Emmett’s about to respond with something mildly indignant for her making the joke so close to their wedding, but then Elle’s heel catches on an uneven piece of sidewalk and sends her nearly tumbling towards a lamp post.

“Woah!” Emmett does manage to catch her before she hits the ground, and he does manage to stay upright as he does so, though it does take a bit of not so graceful stumbling. He’s just glad that he got his drinking done earlier in the night, because one of them definitely would’ve ended up with a concussion there if he wasn’t sober enough.

“You alright?” he asks, where Elle is simply lying in the circle of his arms.

“Uh-huh!” Her eyes start to close, as if beginning to doze off.

Almost a whole minute passes with her making no attempt to move, and when Emmett’s shoulder starts to ache from holding this awkward position for too long, he says, “Elle? Should we get going, or would you rather we stay here as street decoration for the night?”

Elle’s smile is almost serene as she mumbles, “Street decoration would be nice…”

Emmett shakes his head, though he can’t help how fond his voice sounds to his own ears as he says, “Elle…” In a just barely sing-song-y voice he repeats, “ Eeeelle…” but gets nothing. 

“Miss Woods comma Elle?” 

Nothing. 

“Soon to be Misses Woods comma Elle?” 

Elle lets out a pleased little hum at that, but otherwise stays silent.

With a soft sigh and a resigned smile, Emmett shifts his stance and— with about as much grace as a sack of potatoes might have— manages to move so that he can lift up Elle into a bridal carry.

It feels oddly thematic, even as his knees start to protest at the thought of going up ten flights of stairs.

God, I hope they fixed the elevator, he thinks to himself, but when he glances down at the way Elle’s long blonde hair frames her peaceful face, which still manages to look exuberant even in her half-asleep state, Emmett can’t do anything but smile.

Chapter Text

It’s a soft spring morning when Elle comes to consciousness, bed sheets and fiancé wrapped around her in equal measure. She swears that she even hears birds literally chirping a beautiful song in the distance, though her window is closed so that might just be her projecting her good mood. But that last part, at least, is true— Elle Woods could not be in a better mood than she currently is this morning. It would break all known laws of physics and logic if she were to, somehow, get in an even better mood.

She turns to her left to look at Emmett, who’s so close that his face is blurry in her vision. Even still she appreciates it, from the tiny scar on his nose where it was broken and then re-set into place, to the soft patch of stubble on his jaw, to the quiet way that his eyes flutter open.

Though she doesn’t mean to be, Elle is considerably less quiet than Emmett’s gentle waking, when she cheerily says with perhaps too much vigor than 5 A.M. would warrant, “Good morning sleepyhead!!” 

Emmett’s response is an instant wince followed by a low, warm chuckle, one roughened slightly from sleep in a way that makes the butterflies in her stomach flutter.

“Good morning,” he responds, still laughing as he shifts to bury his face against the crown of her head. The position makes his rather bony shoulder dig into Elle in a way that would almost be uncomfortable, were she not too busy radiating happiness to care. “At this point I should know better than to ask, but how are you so cheery? I mean, even for you. What time is it?” He raises his head up to glance at the alarm clock.

“Of course I’m cheery! It’s our wedding day, silly!”

When Emmett lays his head back down on the pillow the smile that curls on his lips is goofy in that giddy way it’s been doing for the last two months, every time she even breathes a word about the wedding. He seems to love the reminder, as if he’s still trying to wrap his head around it when it’s in literal hours, and that makes Elle’s chest glow so brightly that she’s surprised it doesn’t seep through her pores.

“No, of course,” he says, hair flopping adorably over his eyes as he continues to lightly laugh. “What I mean is— how are you not hungover? You drank way, way more than me and even I have a bit of a headache.”

“Hm…” Elle pretends to think about it. Then, as if she’s just come to a very serious conclusion, she solemnly says, “I think you’re just a lightweight.”

Emmett, full of them this morning apparently, let’s out one of her favorite laughs of his: the startled one that nearly barks out of him, like she can never stop delightedly surprising him.

Then he hangs his head in mock defeat, and pulls her closer to him to bury himself against her again. She reaches out to cup his cheek, enjoying the scruffy feeling against her fingers; she melts when he leans into the touch as he says, “Mmm, I think you’re right. And I’m getting déjà vu, all of a sudden.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm.” His voice sounds sleepy, like he’s almost drifting back to bed. “A morning kinda similar to this one.”

She thinks back, and pretty quickly gets a flash of a memory. A little under a year ago, the same warm sheets and the same loving fiancé, when the prospect of their marriage was still fresh and new. Now, tons of planning, and re-working, and hoping later, and it’s almost here.

It’s enough to make Elle’s hand shake in joy as she gently pushes at Emmett’s shoulder.

“Come on, let’s get up and have breakfast together before the big day.” In response, Emmett pretends to snore very very loudly, which has Elle laughing around the words, “Emmett, come on.”

There’s a moment more of their solid embrace, where every person, animal, and floorboard in Boston seem to hold their breath as neither of them move. Then, in a burst of energy Elle is slightly jostled by Emmett getting up, all but kicking off the sheets from around him as he pads onto the floor and starts trying to comb his hair down from its scruffy, bedhead look. 

“That was fast!” Elle says, pleased. “It’s not like you’re hard to wake up, but I tend to be more of the morning person.”

When he turns back to her— wearing only an old Star Wars t-shirt, boxers, and a pair of thick socks— the smile on Emmett’s face can only be described as giddy, in an almost boyish way. Even after all this time it takes Elle’s breath away, but Emmett just walks over to her side of the bed, where she’s still laying there.

“Well, of course. Today’s our wedding day,” he says, and he sounds so confident, as if he’s just finally managed to get his brain to accept them. 

He holds out his hand to her. With her infinite trust in him, Elle’s hand is moving to accept the touch before her mind even has to tell it to. His fingers are warm and sure around her palm. 

“Ready?” he asks, the simplest question in the world.

“Always.”