Work Text:
It was only meant to be a summer thing.
At first, she was attracted to him because she knew she shouldn’t be. She was bored, home from college in between her undergrad and her master's, and looking for something to do other than avoid her mom in the hallways.
Emily was introduced to Aaron fleetingly, a quick exchange between the two of them that she barely thought about as she dodged the smell of Chanel No. Five in the air, and the judgment that always followed it like an afternote. She was told that he was working on security for the estate on behalf of the FBI and, in almost no uncertain terms from Elizabeth, to stay out of his way.
It was a week later when they danced together at a fundraising event that Emily really noticed him for the first time. He was in a tux instead of one of the slightly-too-big suits he wore for work, a sign he wasn’t quite making enough money yet to have them tailored, and he smiled when he asked her to dance, seemingly picking up on how lonely she was in a room full of people she’d known her whole life.
In the weeks that followed, they argued over who kissed who first. They snuck off with a bottle of champagne she’d snatched from the kitchen and holed up in a side room just the two of them. Away from her mom, from the crowd of people she never quite felt a part of and from any expectations from anyone other than the two of them. When she tasted the champagne on his tongue, she pulled away, three whispered rules on the air between them that she needed him to agree to so this would work.
No one can know.
It’s only for the summer.
No falling in love.
The first rule hadn’t been a problem. Her mom was busy with work and barely around, and they were careful. He’d sneak into her room at night and back out first thing in the morning, and no one suspected a thing.
It was the other two rules she was having trouble with, even though she was the one who set them.
Those three months of summer felt like they might last a lifetime at first. A mini infinity in each day, in every night when she fell asleep pressed up against him, soothed by the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Then the days turned into weeks and then months, and before she knew it, it was time for her to go to New Haven and time for him to finish his placement at her mother’s house. The thought that they could just carry on had taken root in her chest weeks ago, something she did her best to ignore despite the flowers of hope that had bloomed and pressed against her lungs every time he touched her, every time he stamped his lips against hers.
It was on their last night, or as the sun rose on their last morning, really, when she realised she was in love with him.
It hurt more than she thought it should.
“Morning,” he says gruffly, his voice thick with sleep as he runs his hand up and down her arm, his lips stamped against her cheek, “Did you sleep okay?”
She hums, and she turns in his arms, smiling despite the tightness in her chest, and she nods, “I always do when you’re here.” She regrets it as soon as she says it, sees how his smile fades into something sad, the realisation of the day ahead of them kicking in, “Sorry.”
He shakes his head and encourages her closer, kissing her before he presses his forehead against hers.
“Don’t apologise,” he says, running his hand up and down her back, drawing patterns she does her best to try to commit to memory, “What time are you leaving?”
“After breakfast,” she says, “You?”
“Just before lunch.” He answers, and the room falls into silence, everything they’d never said to each other thick in the air around them. He sighs, his touch firmer for a second, as if he’s drawing strength from her, “Em-”
“We should get going,” she says, cutting him off, knowing no matter how much she wanted it, him, it wouldn’t work. Not when she had a degree to do, and he had a job in another city, and an ex whose missed calls were just another thing they didn’t talk about, “Mom will come to make sure I’m packed soon.”
He nods and kisses her before he gets out of bed, and she does the same, pulling on a shirt that she won’t give back to him, the one thing she’ll take away from here that she hadn’t arrived with. He gets dressed quickly, pulling on a sweater to cover his missing shirt, and he walks over, tucking her hair behind her ears as he kisses her one last time, a promise neither one of them can make outloud passed from his lips to hers.
We’ll see each other again.
They do, years later, when she walks into his office, and she has no idea who she’s supposed to be any more, and he’s wearing a ring from the ex who he told her not to worry about that one summer that didn’t last as long as either of them wanted it to.