[ Emma has spoken barely more than a handful of words to her new step brother.
He's not her brother, thank you. She frames this new addition to her family as it is. Step brother. A necessary specification. She's spent sixteen -- almost seventeen -- years without a brother when their parents wed on a spring afternoon.
She certainly doesn't need one now.
He's also, she quickly decides, quite annoying. Full of himself. It is one thing when a guy knows he is fit, another to act like he's God's gift.
They have successfully avoided each other for most of the year; he's at university, and she at the girl's school in London. During the summer she had spent most of it in Greece with Harriet, keeping in touch with her father ( and new step-mother, because she always seemed to be right there ) via FaceTime. Her father had taken to signing off messages with Love, Daddy and Georgie. It would be sweet, if it didn't irk her.
Unfortunately, she couldn't escape Jamie for the Christmas holiday. And she hated it. Emma loved Christmas. It was her favorite of holidays, and she loved all holidays.
She very much resents having to share her home with people who are effectively little more than strangers to her.
It also meant Jamie was invited to her birthday party. Seventeen is a big deal. The theme is Swan Lake, one of her life-long obsessions. She's perfectly civil to him, but that is it.
The Woodhouse's country home is sprawling, and rather frigid in the winter months. She wakes much too early with a raging hangover, only to find her water bottle empty. Groaning, Emma drags herself from bed, down hallways she's walked her entire life, and into the kitchen.
She's only half awake when she stumbles onto a mostly naked Jamie. She doesn't really notice him, at first. When she does, the bottle drops from her hand to the floor.
[With everything going on in Jamie's life, the wedding and ceremonial joining of their families happens in the background. The only thing that matters is getting his scholarship and keeping it.
And his mum's happiness, obviously. Which is why he tries to just keep a smile on his face and keep his mouth shut.
Parts of their new life feel dreamlike. He spends so much time at school, he hasn't spent enough time in the huge home to get used to it. He's not sure how anyone ever gets used to it. Emma sure seems acclimated-- she was born into it, he guesses. He hasn't spent much time with her but, listening to her talk, it couldn't be more obvious that they come from different stock. It makes him a little insecure.
Maybe that's why he fucks one of her friends upstairs while she's downstairs enjoying the attention and the alcohol.
He's not expecting her to be awake. He's always up early, so a lie in until 8am is exceptional. Most of the partygoers have been shepherded out, including her friends.
But even with all that in mind, he'd probably be out here in his pants anyway.
He's leaning on the kitchen island with a mug of coffee in his hands. He raises an eyebrow, like her reaction confuses her. It doesn't, but he acts natural.]
Is this central heating? [He points vaguely around the vents in the ceiling and on the floor.]
[ It is quite literally freezing and he's walking around in pants. Emma, quite the opposite, is in thermal sushi pajamas. Quite the pair they make.
He manages to look entirely comfortable and nonchalant. She does not. Cannot. She's got his junk right in front of her and they're supposed to be family.
"Family."
Her mouth has run dry and her eyes are pointedly trying not to look as she bends to pick up the bottle and shuffle toward the water dispenser. Her dad had developed this weird thing about plastic water and the chemicals leeching into them and how premade bottled water is ruining the planet, so those were not allowed on the premises.
The look she sends him is one both confused and irritated to be asked something so obvious and so early to boot. Color is still high on her cheeks. ]
Is that a question you want me to answer? [ Excuse her, she has a massive headache. ]
It's a question I asked you. [Jamie says blithely. He didn't actually care about the answer, but her attitude about it makes him double-down. He takes a long sip of his coffee, while also drinking her in. Like he knows something she doesn't.]
I didn't think rich girls knew how to have a proper party. [He raises his mug at her.]
[ She doesn't know if he intends that as a compliment. She assumes it to be the backhanded compliment it sounds like, which predictably makes her prickle.
It's her home, it's the holiday, and now she's forced to endure being insulted?
In the process of finding something to help with her headache, she's turned away. So he can't see the sour look that crosses her features. She rearranges it into something perfectly friendly when she rounds back. Too friendly. ]
Thank you. I'll be honest, I wasn't aware you were a fan of the ballet. [ She tilts her head at him, brow furrowed, as if genuinely curious. ] How many times have you attended the concert? Swan Lake? Do you have a favorite act? Or ... perhaps you're more familiar with the Nutcracker?
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sundown2025-09-27 02:37 am
no subject
He's not her brother, thank you. She frames this new addition to her family as it is. Step brother. A necessary specification. She's spent sixteen -- almost seventeen -- years without a brother when their parents wed on a spring afternoon.
She certainly doesn't need one now.
He's also, she quickly decides, quite annoying. Full of himself. It is one thing when a guy knows he is fit, another to act like he's God's gift.
They have successfully avoided each other for most of the year; he's at university, and she at the girl's school in London. During the summer she had spent most of it in Greece with Harriet, keeping in touch with her father ( and new step-mother, because she always seemed to be right there ) via FaceTime. Her father had taken to signing off messages with Love, Daddy and Georgie. It would be sweet, if it didn't irk her.
Unfortunately, she couldn't escape Jamie for the Christmas holiday. And she hated it. Emma loved Christmas. It was her favorite of holidays, and she loved all holidays.
She very much resents having to share her home with people who are effectively little more than strangers to her.
It also meant Jamie was invited to her birthday party. Seventeen is a big deal. The theme is Swan Lake, one of her life-long obsessions. She's perfectly civil to him, but that is it.
The Woodhouse's country home is sprawling, and rather frigid in the winter months. She wakes much too early with a raging hangover, only to find her water bottle empty. Groaning, Emma drags herself from bed, down hallways she's walked her entire life, and into the kitchen.
She's only half awake when she stumbles onto a mostly naked Jamie. She doesn't really notice him, at first. When she does, the bottle drops from her hand to the floor.
Surprised, she squeaks: ]
-- oh.
no subject
And his mum's happiness, obviously. Which is why he tries to just keep a smile on his face and keep his mouth shut.
Parts of their new life feel dreamlike. He spends so much time at school, he hasn't spent enough time in the huge home to get used to it. He's not sure how anyone ever gets used to it. Emma sure seems acclimated-- she was born into it, he guesses. He hasn't spent much time with her but, listening to her talk, it couldn't be more obvious that they come from different stock. It makes him a little insecure.
Maybe that's why he fucks one of her friends upstairs while she's downstairs enjoying the attention and the alcohol.
He's not expecting her to be awake. He's always up early, so a lie in until 8am is exceptional. Most of the partygoers have been shepherded out, including her friends.
But even with all that in mind, he'd probably be out here in his pants anyway.
He's leaning on the kitchen island with a mug of coffee in his hands. He raises an eyebrow, like her reaction confuses her. It doesn't, but he acts natural.]
Is this central heating? [He points vaguely around the vents in the ceiling and on the floor.]
It's fucking incredible.
no subject
He manages to look entirely comfortable and nonchalant. She does not. Cannot. She's got his junk right in front of her and they're supposed to be family.
"Family."
Her mouth has run dry and her eyes are pointedly trying not to look as she bends to pick up the bottle and shuffle toward the water dispenser. Her dad had developed this weird thing about plastic water and the chemicals leeching into them and how premade bottled water is ruining the planet, so those were not allowed on the premises.
The look she sends him is one both confused and irritated to be asked something so obvious and so early to boot. Color is still high on her cheeks. ]
Is that a question you want me to answer? [ Excuse her, she has a massive headache. ]
no subject
I didn't think rich girls knew how to have a proper party. [He raises his mug at her.]
Colour me impressed.
no subject
It's her home, it's the holiday, and now she's forced to endure being insulted?
In the process of finding something to help with her headache, she's turned away. So he can't see the sour look that crosses her features. She rearranges it into something perfectly friendly when she rounds back. Too friendly. ]
Thank you. I'll be honest, I wasn't aware you were a fan of the ballet. [ She tilts her head at him, brow furrowed, as if genuinely curious. ] How many times have you attended the concert? Swan Lake? Do you have a favorite act? Or ... perhaps you're more familiar with the Nutcracker?