Work Text:
If Emma’s honest, she’d say her home was her sanctuary.
It's cheesy to say, and overdone, but honest.
Located on the fifth floor of an eight-story building in downtown Brooklyn, her studio apartment offered little more than a seagull's-eye view of the jagged Manhattan skyline. It's nothing spectacular, surrounded by convenience stores and run-down shops that never seemed to attract customers, but Emma was fine with that. It's a decent size for a loft, there's no mold or mice, and the furniture is a mash-up of all of her moods as well as her deep need for a theme, so she doesn't have much to complain about.
Like most mornings, the apartment is quiet: with only the faint sounds of birds chirping, the occasional rush of a passing car, and the murmur of a pen against paper from beside her. As usual, Emma's squeezing the last bit she can out of the 8 hours she's been sleeping before she has to get up for work.
BRZZZZ.
The ringtone that comes next from her phone is some combination of symbol crashes and chimes, loud and irritating enough that Emma gets weary of hearing it after two seconds and decides that maybe waking up to click snooze might not be such a horrible idea after all.
Emma gets as far as reaching out her hand to look for the device on the edge of the bed before something perks up beside her.
It's a fine point to also say that, in all honesty, Emma's shitty apartment wasn’t her sanctuary nor her home. No—home is where the heart is.
And Emma’s heart?
It’s been captured for a long time now.
"No you don’t!" Abigail huffed as she pinned Emma's hand to the mattress, immediately reaching over and snatching Emma’s phone. "This is the third time you’ve hit snooze. Don’t you have things to do today?"
Emma has things to do every day, thanks to her career choices (not that she entirely minds), and she ought to be getting up earlier than damn near noon, but Emma can only manage to turn in bed and groan.
"Fuck me."
Unfortunately for Emma, Abigail isn't having it.
"C'mon, don’t be a baby, it’s never as bad as you think it’ll be." She says, and Emma strives for the best non-bitter laugh she can manage in response as she yanks the blanket from over her head.
It's not much.
"Say that to me again the next time you lose sleep about a design."
"All right, I'll shut up now." Abigail replies quickly, taking her sketch pad from her lap and returning Emma's phone. Emma wishes she could say she was happy to see it when she clicked the touchscreen and saw her client's message regarding the big day.
"Thank you," Emma clicks her tongue, sarcastic. "But seriously, their idea was just so far over budget, and I don't know if the DIY stuff we did is going to go over well…"
Being an event planner was never Emma's first choice, but after the whole Hacketts Quarry incident, Emma realized that maybe the spotlight wasn't all that it was cracked up to be. The flash photographers, the hate-comments online calling her a murderer—
Even after the charges were dropped, it was awful. Her youtube videos were in controversy constantly, to the point she had to shut her comments off. Even now, she still has to delete the occasional hate-comment, answer the uncomfortable questions, and field the rude, uninformed opinions.
This seemed like an easier solution in the middle of Emma's social media marketing degree. It gave her the entrepreneurial freedom she'd always wanted while still having the opportunity to share joy with her clients. It's not always an easy job, but having Abigail there to tackle bad days with her—believing and understanding everything she'd— no, they'd been through...
It means the world to her.
"Don't worry, they're going to love it. It's you who made it, after all." Abigail shrugs with nothing more than a smile, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and the sight alone makes Emma's heart flutter. You'd think that after years of being so close, Emma would be able to get a grip.
"But what if they don't?" Emma asks, dramatic and all, but Abigail never falters.
"Then they just don’t have good taste. And that's a them problem." Abigail replies as Emma sits up, lightly stroking her shoulder. When she's finished, she gently squeezes down, and Emma chuckles at the silliness of it all.
Bad taste is certainly not a her problem.
"Abi, what would I do without you?"
Abigail lets go and looks away to flip to a new page in her sketchbook, but it doesn’t stop Emma from noticing the fond grin on her face. "Perish, probably."
"Oh Ha-Ha." Emma says as she rolls her eyes and stands up, pulling the covers off herself. However, her efforts to get dressed are cut short when her phone begins to buzz in her hand.
It's a video call, from Dylan.
"Hey, Dylan’s calling, I’m gonna take it." She says as she props the phone up on their nearby dresser.
"It's alright; I need to get up for work anyway." Abi hums, and Emma answers her phone. Dylan appears on FaceTime right away, a wide smile on his face. It's summertime now, and Dylan is on vacation with Ryan, lucky bastards. Pto must be nice.
"Hi babe, it’s like 12 in the afternoon. What are you up to?" Dylan asks, waving his artificial hand.
"Just getting up." Emma yawns, and Dylan nods. He's outside for some reason, the front door of their Airbnb behind him. If Emma were to guess, it’s probably to whine about Ryan not being home or how his cat is giving him the silent treatment again. Moody thing.
"Sounds about right. Oh.. wait, Max just texted me back. I’m gonna add him to the call, you good with that?"
Emma shrugs, as if contemplating, but then gives him a smile. As if it were even a question.
"Duh."
Lots of people would find it strange that the majority of them are still so close despite everything that has happened, even Emma's therapist akined it to group trauma. But if group trauma is what gets Dylan and Max on a FaceTime call with her every other day and gets them together for group brunches, then she'll more than happily take it.
Dylan, as promised, adds Max to the call, his symbol in Emma's phone loading until he appears, sweat coating Max's face as he steps into his house. Emma has a soft spot in her heart for this ancient brick house, but she's not about to let Travis overhear her admitting it in front of him. God knows he’d never let Max live it down.
Emma is barely able to say hello before Dylan remarks on how he looks like he just finished a marathon.
"Is this a bad time?" He raises his brow, but he's laughing before he can finish his sentence. "I'd hate to be the one to take you away from your nasty three-way."
Max is so used to Dylan’s antics he doesn’t bat an eye to the teasing. "Absolutely man, try not to breathe into the phone too deeply. Might catch the fumes."
While Emma is clenching her stomach in an attempt to suppress her laughter, Abi is laughing so hard that she can barely contain herself.
"Ew!" She says between giggles as she changes behind a door, and Dylan waits for his own laughing to subside before continuing.
"Gross, you’re worse than Abi and Emma."
Abi gasps. "What did we do?"
And Dylan is more than happy to supply.
"Butt dial me in the car! I was traumatized while you and Emma were doing— UNSPEAKABLE things."
"First and foremost, it's your fault for not hanging up when your loudass—'HELLO' didn't garner an answer." Emma smirks and crosses her arms, and Abi brushes the notion aside as she steps behind Emma, newly changed, and ready to hit him with a comeback she's probably rehearsed to herself a million times in case of something like this.
"Dylan, you act like you haven’t rushed us off the phone to get down and dirty either. One time you even cut us off mid sentence because Ryan started unbuttoning your pants—"
"OKAY. Alright. You've won. I have no room to talk. Let’s move on." Dylan shouts immediately, his cheeks flushing scarlet over the phone. In Max’s screen, he’s cackling, congratulating Abi on a burn well done.
"I love talking to you guys way too much," Max adds between breaths, pulling some of the hairs stuck to his forehead back. "I just finished fixing Laura’s car, she said the brakes were squeaking, so I just gave them a little TLC."
She never imagined Max being a mechanic, but if it makes him happy and makes him offer to fix Abi's car whenever there's a problem, he has Emma's full support.
Plus, he’s a big part of Kaitlyn and Dylan’s podcast, so he’s definitely covered in the happiness department. She can tell in the way he laughs or screams during their weekly horror stories.
"Okay, we love to see it," Emma chirps up, giving him a slight side-eye when she notices she can’t see the collar of a shirt on him. "So, did you wear a shirt or did you show out?"
Max laughs in response, giving his camera a quick wink before he flashes the phone at his bare chest, and Emma and Dylan burst out laughing.
"A true himbo." Abigail chuckles as Emma struggles to put on her pants beside her, and Max lets the applause cease.
"What can I say? I gotta give them something to look at." Max says, and Abigail sets her keys down on the dresser as she collects her things.
"I’m going to get to work, Em. Text me how it goes, okay?" She whispers as Dylan and Max continue, and Emma nods, stepping out behind Abigail to wave her off.
"Have a good day at work. Be careful walking." Emma says before she closes the door, and Abigail gives her a thumbs up before she goes.
Must be nice, Emma almost says, but stops herself short. Since they relocated to New York over a year and a half ago, Abigail has been working at a startup. Whereas the majority of Emma's commutes are toward Manhattan and Harlem at various venues, Abigail's workplace is only a fifteen minute walk away, even closer if she drives.
Sometimes, Emma craves for the normalcy and routine, at times even entertaining the idea of maybe joining Abi (though she’d steer for something more towards corporate), but Emma knows it’s not as easy at it looks.
Being a concept artist is not an easy profession, nor is it to work as a developer of any non established company. Abigail likes her job enough, but the approval boards at times are ruthless as new management comes and goes.
Emma has approached her about working somewhere more established and dependable, but Abigail has always been wary of larger corporations. Worried about how much she’d enjoy her job to avoid the burnout. Honestly, Emma would rather have her happy than have her pick and choose whatever comforts to forgo, but Abigail despises the thought of freelancing full-time. Says she craves the structure.
Emma returns to the room with a sigh and closes the bedroom's improvised door, and the muttered conversation over the phone abruptly comes to a halt.
It's certainly suspicious.
"She gone?" Dylan asks before Emma can decide to let it slide or not.
Emma gives him a questioning look.
"Yeah, why?"
"Because, Emma! I want to go to a wedding this summer and you are not letting me live my best life." Dylan says, and Emma’s mouth drops open as Max cuts in with a laugh of his own.
“I'm not sure why you’re asking Emma, I think you’d be better off waiting for us,” Max comments over the phone, Emma pouting as Max shifts his position and she notices Laura in the kitchen behind him, Travis and her having a conversation she’s too far away and uninterested in hearing.
“First of all, ouch. Second, yeah, you’re probably going to get it from the throuple before me.” Emma says, and Dylan sighs in defeat.
“You know what, you’re right. After all, you and Abi aren’t even dating really. You're both just,” Dylan waves his robotic arm. “In the air.”
"In the air?!"
"Okay Emma, have you asked Abi out yet?" Dylan asks, and Emma adds this to the small list of times she’d like to reach into the phone and strangle her beloved friend.
"Dylan, Abi literally lives with me. We sleep in the same bed, it’s already established."
Dylan doesn’t seem convinced. "Okay… But is it established to her?"
"I mean, I call her babe and we kiss. So… I assume so? Also, why are you butting in on my romantic life?" Emma asks, her arms wrapped across her chest. She’s supposed to be doing her hair by now, but her reputation is on the line and she will not stand for the slander.
Max, on the other hand, does not play her side of the fence, humming in accord with Dylan. "It’s because he is tired of the two of you pining."
Dylan, of course, rejoices in someone agreeing with his antics for once.
"Yes pining! Especially for someone who used to be so adamant on her manning up to put the moves on Nick."
Emma lifts her hands, attempting to explain herself, because first of all—
"That was a different me, okay? Before I realized me and her had chemistry."
"Right, right." Dylan’s voice is laced with sarcasm, and before Max chimes in, Emma notices Laura step into the living room from behind Max.
"Max, can we borrow you for a second?" Is all she says before Max makes the executive decision to mute his phone.
Dylan and Emma exchange glances, the two of them attempting to read lips as Max vibrates with laughter before unmuting them.
"Uh, I gotta go guys. I’ll talk to you later." Is the first thing he says to them, and Emma raises her brow before smirking.
"All right, bye, tell Laura I said hello."
"Hey, Emma!" Laura's voice can be heard off-screen, and Dylan's grin matches Emma's as he waves Max off too.
"Bye!" And he’s gone. With j ust the two of them now, Dylan gives Emma a look.
"Look, I’m only pulling your leg about the Abi thing. Go at your own pace, I’m just saying to put your moves out. Having no label is fine for a while, but things can get confusing if you're not on the same page."
"I appreciate the concern, Dylan. I got it." It's a little aggravating, Emma admits, but she knows his heart is in the right place.
And he has some valid points.
"Alright. Well, Ryan’s going to be back any minute. So that's my cue. Love you,"
Emma gives him a smile.
"Love you too, bye."
The phone call ends, and Emma feels like banging her head against the counter. Dylan makes a valid point: they've never been official-official. More like a package deal. It started during college, just skirting, and then they got closer, but they never said anything.
They don’t even say I love you, hardly.
Emma wonders why. She'd never been so... careless before in relationships. She'd always at least put it out how she felt— but this? This was uncharted territory Emma genuinely didn't want to mess up.
What if she told Abi she wanted to be serious, but Abi preferred their current situation? No labels, no real talk about their feelings... What if Emma was the one who became overly-attached when they were never meant to be together permanently in the first place?
With that on her mind, Emma grabs the keys to Abigail's Ford and heads to the car to meet her client and double-check their setup.
It was going to be a long day.
———
"Hey, I'm glad to hear things went well with your client!" Abigail says the moment she arrives home, well into the evening, and Emma is grinning to herself as she sits on the couch, browsing through designs for her next client.
"It was a-fucking-mazing! She was so happy with it, she’s gonna book me again to do this big masquerade party. I love her so much." Emma rants, her back pressed into the cushions and her hair tied up as Abigail takes a seat beside her.
She's got an iPad on her lap with a list of notes and images, and seeing Abigail's cooperation as an indication of interest, Emma sits her legs in Abigail's lap and shows off her screen. "Okay, have a look at this; it’s another concept of mine. Actual event is in 3 weeks, mind you."
"Happy to hear your client has good taste after all," Abigail murmurs, squeezing Emma's pant-leg as she squints at the screen. "This one looks nice, I like the cushions."
The venue is still up in the air, but the decorations for the masquerade party are all laid out, with various shades of yellow and black, both with gold accents for contrast and to imply a softness that isn't just from the deep cushions on the sectional couch in the lounge area.
The planning is going well for such a short deadline, albeit stressfully, but Emma doesn't want Abigail to be concerned about any of that on top of her own job.
Emma quickly puts down her tablet and turns her attention to the person she's been thinking about all day. "Thanks babe, sorry for buggin' you. How was work?"
Abigail gives a shrug in response to the question, but Emma recognizes the eye roll that she gives immediately afterwards for what it really is: irritation.
"It was all right. Just need to look over the suggestions and make some adjustments to the character design sketches."
"Again?" Emma speaks before she can stop herself, but it appears to work in her favor when Abigail nearly shouts her response.
"Yeah, they’re not happy with the colors. Colors. I freakin- hate color theory, it been giving me a headache all day." Abigail clutches her head for a second, and Emma reaches out to stroke her arm soothingly.
"Don’t let them stress you out," She says, getting up and grabs water and Tylenol from the kitchen for her anyways. Abigail smiles as Emma comes back and hands her the medicine, and Abigail looks relieved more than anything.
Emma hums gently to herself as she slips into Abigail's lap and combs through her red hair.
"Enough worrying about color theory, Abs, let's just... relax," Emma purred, her attention now much more on stress relief— they can always brainstorm together afterwards. After all, they're a team.
"Now, when you say relax, do you mean—" Abigail starts to say with a snort, her hands finding their way to Emma's waist. Emma presses a kiss to her mouth before she even finishes her sentence.
"Yes." She says, a breathless laugh on the edge of her lips as she leans in for another, and maybe two more.
"I missed you." Emma melts as Abigail moans against her mouth, her hands wrapping around her and drawing Emma closer.
When they're like this, Emma feels like all her concerns are unfounded—but they aren't, and Emma knows it. They're not definitively anything, and she knows they need to talk about it. But Emma’s still trying to decide if saying how she feels is worth potentially losing Abigail.
"Okay, wait." Emma smiles, but then frowns, really considering her next words.
"What?" Abigail asks.
Emma can't shake the frown, so she tries the best mix of an awkward-insecure laugh to hide it. "Dylan said something to me today that really made me think."
"Really? That’s rare." Abigail comments, and Emma thinks it definitely helps.
It could just be all in Emma's head.
Emma laughs, and grips tight to the little hope she has.
"I know, right! But, anyway, it kinda… got me in my feelings, so I wanna ya know," She swats her hand in the air. "Clear the air and just say it."
"Okay, lay it on me." Abigail stops, then takes a breath.
Emma takes one too, setting her hands on Abi's face before she says fuck it and takes the leap of faith. "I want you. Only you."
Abigail blinks, followed by a long period of silence, but she doesn't look away or anything. She almost seems to be waiting for Emma to continue.
"Okay?" Abigail answers hesitantly, her eyes quirking suspiciously as she waits for the new information.
"Okay?" Emma jerks back slightly, astonished.
Abigail looks at her as if she's grown another head, uncertainty between them both as she blows air out of her mouth, an awkward laugh following.
"Well, I’d hope you’d still want me and only me after all this, we’ve been dating for like three years."
Emma frowns. "Since when have we been dating?"
Suddenly Abigail's eyes flit over the room, as if looking for an answer before she simply shrugged.
"After we started hooking up? Remember, you'd spend the entire week in my dorm, and my roommate was almost your partner in crime because you hung out with me so much, and we were each other's whole lesbian awakening?"
Emma's not convinced.
"Who asked who out?" She asked.
Abi stammers, waving with her hands but never reaching a point of purchase, seemingly at a loss for a response.
"I can’t remember! It's been a long time, Em!"
Emma nearly laughs from the audacity. "That's my point! I don’t think we’ve ever had this conversation!"
Abigail clicks her tongue, rolling her eyes as she speaks.
"Okay, well, Emma Mountebank, do you want to go steady with me?"
With that attitude, Emma should smush her face into a cushion, but Emma’s picking her battles much more wisely these days and lets it slide.
"Duh." She says instead, as if the whole I want you revelation wasn't obvious enough.
Seemingly pleased with Emma's answer, Abigail leans up and lands a kiss on Emma's mouth, beaming triumphantly afterwards.
"Great. Now, you can go tell everyone I was the one who finally manned up and asked you out first."
"What?!"
Abigail nods, "Yep, go ahead and tell Dylan it was me! How I was the one who put on the big girl pants and made us official because you couldn't stop pinning all this time."
"Hey! That is not fair!" Emma protests, but her lover is unconcerned, Abigail's fingers against her sides dragging her right off her lap.
"It is to me! As a matter of fact—" Abigail smiles as she gets up from the couch, her phone in hand. "I'm going to break the news to him myself."
"Abi! Wait! I have a reputation to maintain—"
"You should have thought about that before you let me do it first!" Abigail laughs as Emma starts to chase after her, and when Dylan's laughing at her over the phone not even five minutes afterwards, Emma ought to wring her neck.