Fandom: Legally Blonde the Musical
Pairing: Emmett/Elle
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Nope, not mine. Just borrowing.
Summary: Post-trial. And suddenly he knows that this is his chance
Note: So thanks to the wonderful inspiration of LB, I've written my first finished fic in about five years. Let me know what you think!

What He Has

His pants are playing Girls Just Want To Have Fun. Obviously, Elle has been playing with his ring tone again, a pastime she picked up when she learned he doesn't know how to change it. She buys him a latte for each new ring tone to make up for the price, but somehow it doesn't cover the public humiliation. Speaking of Elle – he glances at the caller ID and suddenly must make a quick decision – enthusiasm or caution? He quickly ditches both and instead opts for measured indifference: "Hey."

She doesn't preface her intended train of conversation with small talk. Then again, she never has, she's too self-assured for that, and he would be disappointed if she changed that today. "Where did you go? I've been looking all over for you!" Her tone is accusing in a fond way, and the familiarity of it puts him a little more at ease.

"I'm at home. Thought I'd change and get away from the reporters." He isn't sure she's acquainted with the feeling of too many people or not enough silence or even these clothes are too uncomfortable to wear all day so he leaves it at that.

He can see her exaggerated eye roll and fake-exasperated scoff in his mind before he hears the tell-tale huff of breath. "You're going to miss the party! Did you think we wouldn't celebrate?"

Ignoring the impulse to tell her that the only celebration he wants is a private one where he can take her out to dinner at a nice place and somehow communicate just how proud he is of her, he instead answers, "I wasn't thinking about it." He also ignores the impulse to tell her just what he was thinking about.

"Well, think about it now! Come on, I don't think I can survive this thing without you here." Despite her light tone, his heart rises dangerously and he knows that he will be going back to the overcrowded courthouse.

"Seriously, Emmett. There's reporters with questions I can't answer and the other lawyers want to talk to me and it is really hard to avoid Warner by myself." She sounds genuinely anxious which worries him just a little bit and he's about to comment (ask) about that last part when she adds, "Plus, I really wanted to celebrate this with you."

He smiles and says, "Of course I'll come," saving his question for a time when he can get a real explanation.

She sighs her relief and gushes, "Thank you, thank you, thank you! I love you!"

He can't actually think for a moment, but somehow manages to spit out, "Don't mention it. I'll be there soon," before he hangs up and congratulates himself on sounding normal or at least normal enough. He's never known someone so casually affectionate even in their words, and though he knows she doesn't mean it in the sense that he does, I love you out of her mouth is enough to strike him dumb.

With her pink dress and distinctive voice, Elle isn't hard to spot when he arrives at the courthouse. She's surrounded by reporters and seems completely at ease and competent – then again, she rarely seems anything but. Her plea for help was apparently exaggerated. Unable to supress the proud grin spreading across his face, Emmett glances around the rest of the room. "Party" seems a loose description for the definitely business related activities going on around him. He laughs to himself and shakes his head – trust Elle to see a party in any gathering of people.

He approaches the circle where she's currently commanding all attention. He overhears her finish an answer, "Any Cosmo girl would know!" with a bright smile and he has to keep himself from smirking as he places his hand on her back. She snaps her head around and her smile widens. "You came!" He smiles back and opens his mouth to respond, but she puts a hand on his chest to stop him – "Wait!" – and he's too busy relishing their closeness to question her command. She tells the reporters that she won't answer any more questions and they wander away, shooting curious glances over their shoulders at the pair as they go.

Instead of taking her hand away, she places the other one on his chest for symmetry and sighs, her head swinging backwards and then onto his chest and back upright again. "You have no idea how boring it is to answer the same questions from twenty different people wearing identical suits."

He squints at her suspiciously then flashes a half-grin, half-smirk. "You love every minute of it."

Her mouth opens in silent indignation for a moment before she closes it in defeat. "How do you know me so well?" She gives his chest a light push then drops her hands, her fingers brushing his torso as they fall.

Frowning, he feigns forgetfulness and snaps his fingers. "Damn! I didn't tell you about the background check."

She laughs and he can't help but follow suit – her laughter is unfailingly infectious. "Come on." She links her arm through his.

"Come on? Where are we going?"

She looks at him and raises her eyebrows in that way that says you're going to go along with this because I'm cute and replies, "You're taking me out to dinner to celebrate."

"Oh, really?" He grins (he can't seem to stop smiling around her when she's this happy). "What about that happenin' party you were talking about?"

"Ok, first of all, never ever say 'happenin' again," – he rolls his eyes– "and second of all – I don't think many people are actually up for a party."

He glances around; sure enough, the room has cleared out quickly, with even the few remaining stragglers beginning to trickle out the doors. "I see. So I'm your last resort."

He's teasing, but she responds earnestly, her hand sliding down from his elbow into his hand. "No. It's just convenient that I don't have to beg off anything to go with my first choice." Her comment is followed up with a small smile that he can't identify at first until he realizes that it's a shy smile and he's never seen her look timid in any way before (except when she was questioning Chutney, but that doesn't count because this is with him and she's never been - she's not supposed to be - nervous with him).

And suddenly he knows that this is his chance, that for whatever reason Warner is out of the picture and she wants to be with him to celebrate her most monumental achievement to date (maybe calling it the most monumental is too much of an assumption, but he instinctively knows that she would agree with him).

So he squeezes her hand and reaches over to take the other one so that they're facing each other and looks directly into her eyes to avoid being misunderstood. "Good. I'm glad we have the same priorities."

Her mouth opens slightly and her eyes flick toward his lips. He pulls her a little closer and lets the moment hang in tension as long as he can. She's leaning towards him and her eyes are starting to close in anticipation when he drops her hands. "So go get your bag and we'll go!"

He turns in the direction of the coat rack to grab her jacket and she's left standing motionless in the middle of the room, her hands dangling empty at her sides.

"What? That's it?" He turns back at her baffled exclamation. "Aren't you going to kiss me?"

His mouth opens in an "O" of realization and he looks at her. "Is that what you were expecting?"

"Well – I – " she sputters for a moment, at a loss, then looks up and declares in an irritated voice, "Yes!"

Emmett nods in comprehension, then shrugs dispassionately. "Ok, then." And then he's right there in front of her, sweeping her into his arms and he can barely touch his lips to hers for all the crazy grinning on both sides, but they finally finally make it work and it's so much better than either expected.

It doesn't last long enough, though, because another trial has just ended, and the lobby is filled with people again all of a sudden. They stand in the middle of the room grinning at each other with ludicrous delight then move as one to gather their things. As they leave, squeezing together into one section of the revolving doors, Elle seems to be almost dancing in her giddiness, which reminds Emmett of something that had long since passed from his mind.

"Hey," he says, nudging her with his hip. "My phone will not be ringing with that girly pop stuff anymore." He tries to give her a stern, commanding look but fails miserably.

She shrugs, not bothered, and leans up to kiss him on the cheek. "I guess it's cheesy love ballads from now on." And he no choice but to shake his head good-naturedly and smile – an embarassing ring tone is a small price to pay for what he has now.