A/N: Argh! An update! Thank you for waiting!

We struggle through the crowd to the bar, where its flooded with people, all competing to flag down the two available bartenders.

The plus side of being abnormally tall is I tower of everyone. I put out my hand and call "Hey, over here" and the guy looks at me. He looks me dead in the eye. I know I'm wearing glasses but I can see that he saw me, and what does this guy do? Turns right back around and asks someone else's order.

Rude.

He wanders back after a minute, and this time I even wave an arm like, hey, look at me, I'm a thirsty person with money! And still, straight past me.

Then, moments later, Emma squeezes past me and starts nudging people out the way. As soon as she's even visible at the front of the bar, up springs a guy ready to take her order.

"What can I get you?"

"A black russian"

I throw up my arms "How? How did you do that?"

Emma gestured to her chest "These things pay for themselves, darling?"

I look down, then drag my head back up again. Did she really have to draw attention to them? It was hard enough not to look as it is, especially when I'm this tall with that kind of vantage point.

"So, uh, did you want to find that corner to brood in?" I ask.

"Hm, I'd prefer to brood sitting down, to be honest"

It only takes a minute of wandering before we're up in one the further back sections of the place, and theres a more elevated section, up a couple of stairs, where a few mismatched, threadbare, couches have been placed together. They're mostly full of people chatting and smoking already, but I spot one single cushion free on the end of a tan leather three seater.

I sink down into the worn cushion a surprising amount. The old thing sagged so much It was like falling into a marshmallow. Emma squeezes in next to me, and she lets out a little noise of surprise as she practically falls in too.

Then I realize how close we are. There wasn't enough room for even a centimetre between us, our shoulders pushed up against each other, our entire bodies pressed together side by side. There was no way I could maintain the appropriate thirty centimetre couch distance like before.

"Oh god, it's like it's trying to suck us in"

Emma tried to settle herself in what I guessed was a more dignified sitting position on the couch that was trying it's best to be a beanbag chair. I'm trying to focus on anything other than her jostling next to me, and the fact that her thigh is on my thigh.

Then the background club music stopped, followed by a huge screech of microphone feedback, making everyone wince. We watched as the band was welcomed onto the stage,

A guy with ridiculously gelled up hair, no really, it was like thirty centimetres high, came to the mike "Hey, motherfuckers! We're Age of Apocolypse and we're here to fuck shit up! Who's already wasted and ready to get fucking hard core tonight!" he screamed.

The crowd screamed back at him in excitement.

"You'd think a 'hello and good evening' would do" I muttered and I heard Emma laugh.

"You sound like such a white suburban dad"

"Yeah, well, I feel like a white suburban Dad in this crowd"

A girl with pink hair and black streaks lets out a few chords on her guitar, leading to more screaming and clapping, and a part of me is both amused and worried to think Bobby, Kitty and Hank were all trapped up the front of this crowd full of 'wasted motherfuckers'.

"ARE. YOU. PREPARED. TO. ROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-"

The guitars and drums started up full speed and I grimaced as that note continued. It wasn't even a note, it was one of those deep, throaty, screams that hurt my vocal chords just to listen to, and it didn't stop. I saw Emma's jaw drop a little as she put a finger tentatively to her ear, like she was physically in pain, and it just kept going.

It didn't take long for the moshing to start. I could spot Abigail easily enough. Even with the array of alternative hair colours, her green head stood out in the crowd, along with Hank's bulky frame. Next to them I could only just spot Bobby and Kitty.

It looked like they were getting beat up to music.

The noise was incredible.

I don't mean that as in 'the band was good' in fact, they were awful. Just the sheer amount of intense noise they could produce was the incredible thing.

I feel a tug on my jacket and turn to see Emma mouthing something at me.

"What?" I frown, unable to hear her.

She tries again, this time I pick up a faint sense of words as she leant in closer.

"What? You want some gum?" I yelled back.

She rolls her eyes before pulling herself right up to my ear, head in the crook of my neck.

It was hard to ignore the feel of her hot breath on my neck.

"I said ,this isn't my idea of fun!"

"Really? Because this really seemed like your kind of scene" I joke.

"When you said 'we're going to see a band' I pictured guys in beards and flannel shirts, with glasses they didn't really need, playing folksy songs about their twenty-something year old problems"

"And instead you get these guys. Inner ear damage personified"

"This is what I get for being nice" she teased "I should've let you suffer here on your own"

"Hey, You invited yourself" I laugh.

"And I regret it this very second"

There was a pause before she continued.

"But, To be honest I'm still wondering why Hank didn't get me a ticket along with the rest of you. He was the one who came to me for dating advice after all, you'd think he'd be grateful"

"He said Abigail could only get him the four tickets, for me, Bobby and Jean" I catch myself "I mean, I ended up giving my ticket to Bobby, so Kitty could come, but yeah"

Emma was silent for a second, and you could see her mind whirring.

"You gave your ticket to Bobby? Jean didn't want to come?" She asked, choosing her words carefully and deliberately.

"I...yeah, I didn't think this was the kind of thing she'd enjoy"

"Not her scene?"

"Exactly"

"Just like how we established it's not my scene either, nor yours, and yet here we are anyway"

I pulled at a loose bit of skin with my teeth.

"Well, I...didn't ask her in the first place"

I hadn't told her about the talk with Jean on Wednesday. How we were pretty much dangling by a thread at this point, or at least it felt that way to me.

It was hard to know why exactly. Couldn't pin point it.

Maybe I was scared she'd use her blunt powers of observation to tell me that what Jean had said meant it really was over, and I was just too dumb to realise it. Brutal honestly I didn't know if I was ready to hear.

Another, smaller, part of me imagined that if I brought up the trouble I was having with Jean, if me and Emma were alone one more time and we had that kind of heart to heart...would we do something stupid? Would she tell me that me and Jean were done and I should move on? That I should be with someone who makes me happy...that that person was her, that she wanted me in that way...that she'd take the chance to kiss me?

And again, I didn't know if that was a stupid notion, an unlikely scenario...or wishful thinking on my part.

It was easier to avoid the whole topic.

But she was staring at me, with those blue eyes that made you feel like you couldn't hide anything from her.

"Wow, Bobby look's like he's having a rough time out there"

"That was the least subtle derailment of a conversation I've ever heard" Emma said, turning her head to look at Bobby with me, regardless "But now you mention it, he really doesn't look like he's doing well"

I can't really describe what this crowd was doing, or wether it qualified as dancing or moshing, but it looked like people were...wind milling. Flinging their arms around in hard fast circles. Everyone was violently thrashing out around them. The head banging was so severe I was concerned that at least five people looked like they would have concussions if they hit each other. In fact, on another medical note, it just looked like a crowd of people having seizures. And Bobby looked like the one little kid on the bouncy castle who wanted to get off but was trapped by all the other bouncing party goers.

By chance, Bobby himself caught eyes with us.

I waved him over.

That way, he could escape, but claim it was because his good friend Scott had called him over for something, not because he looked ready to faint.

Such a good friend.

Bobby doesn't hesitate, and starts pushing his way through the thick crowd over towards us, swimming through the sea of alternate lifestyle livers.

Just before he reaches the small steps, having wormed his way past most people easily, he trips over someones ridiculously chunky spiked boot, and me and Emma watch as he topples forward, falling into the back of the heftiest, most tattooed, pierced and shaved looking individual I can see in the whole room.

The guy stumbles as Bobby crashed into him from behind, his beer being knocked out of his hand, spilling all down himself and his friend.

"Oh no.." I mutter, as hefty guy turns around, murder on his face.

From here I can't hear what's being said, but Bobby's face is nervous laughter, and no doubt a stream of apologies, but this guy is all anger, and none of the words he's mouthing looked nice.

"I think we might need to get down there-"

Emma doesn't even finish her sentence before the front of Bobby's shirt is grabbed.

Time to move quickly.

"Hey, hey!" I shout, for all the good it would do over all the noise.

When I was younger, I bugged my parents to let me go to Tae Kwon Do classes.I was convinced that by learning how to fight, I would be able to step up to any situation and deliver a round house kick, a couple of karate chops, and the Bruce Lee one-inch punch flawlessly, and anyone who messed with me or my friends would be down for the count in a matter of seconds. I'd be effective ,dangerous, and look like the guys from the movies.

But in real life, fight scenes are never that cool or coordinated.

It's usually just a couple of guys shoving and grabbing at each other in a mess of testosterone and poorly flung punches.

People backed up and stared, the scuffle drawing some attention, as I rush in and attempt to pry them apart. In return, hefty guys friend joins into, trying to pry me off prying hefty guy off of Bobby.

Like I said, a messy scuffle.

"Hey, calm down-" I try again.

"Fuckin' little asshole!" Hefty guy grunts, to me or Bobby, I don't know, but either way I was the one who got the punch to the head.

And this was a proper punch, right to the nose. I didn't even see who threw it, but it jolts my head violently, and my glasses are knocked off.

The pain erupts over my face, and I'm dazed enough to let go of the others.

As soon as that instant of shock wears off, my first thought is 'shit'.

My glasses.

I feel myself being pulled away and I have to blink my eyes to see Emma clearly. She grabbed me by the arm, guiding me away.

"Get them out of here! Get them out, it's those two over there!"

I recognise Kitty's voice, and I look over to see two bouncers forcing their way over to handle the situation. I hear what might be Russian curse words as well. I don't know, it's all still so loud, and theres a throbbing in my nose and my jaw feels almost out of place.

"Are you alright?" I hear Emma say quietly over everybody "Jesus, your bleeding"

I reach up and touch my nose, gingerly, pulling back my fingers to see blood.

"Shit..." I mutter.

"Is It broken?" Emma peers at me, examining my face.

"Doubt it, I think it'd hurt more if it did"

My face still feels strange and numb, but the pain was actually subsiding pretty quickly, but even as I speak I can taste the blood dripping down onto my lip.

I was still more worried about my glasses. Even now, in the low lit club, the flashing lights was hell on my eyes. It would only be about ten minutes before I started getting a killer headache.

Before I can even think to look, Kitty appears in front of us.

"Scott, here, I picked them up but someone must've already stepped on them or something"

She held up my now badly broken glasses. They were in two pieces, and one of the lenses had been complete shattered.

For a second we stop to watch as the two guys were being escorted out, and it looked like Hank had joined in the mess to try and convince the bouncers that Bobby was just an honest victim in all of this, because it looked like the bouncers wanted him out too.

The whole thing lasted about a minute, tops. A lot can happen in a minute.

"Crap, why are the pushing Bobby? Illyana, go talk to them, please, he can't get thrown out" Kitty

hurried away, Illyana following.

"Come on" I felt a tug at my arm "Let's at least try and get you cleaned up before we might get kicked out. You really do have blood pouring down your face"

I let myself be led through the crowds of onlookers by Emma towards the back of the club where the bathrooms were.

They were down a narrow hallway, besides the bar in the corner, graffiti and phone numbers all over the walls.

Emma pushed her way into the mens.

"Hey! You can't be in here-"

"Oh, shut up, there's nothing in here I haven't seen before" Emma says impatiently to the indignant man at the urinal.

"Get the fuck out, lady!" he tries again.

"Why don't you calm the fuck down" I yell back, surprising myself.

I'm in a bad mood.

He swears at us some more but zips up his pants and leaves.

Emma watches him go but doesn't seem too phased.

"Right, clean yourself up then" she says, pulling paper towels down from the dispenser.

I finally look at myself properly in the mirror, and she hadn't been kidding. There really was a lot of blood.

"Jesus...this really doesn't hurt as bad as it looks" I prod at my nose, leaning on the basin, wincing in the Mirror. But that was more to do with the florescent lights than anything.

"Are you sure your not saying that to sound like a big brave boy?" she teased, wetting the paper under the tap.

As I wipe away a bit of the blood with my sleeve, I can see a cut along the side of my nose. As soon as I wipe it away another trickle runs down.

"Guy must've been wearing a ring or something, I don't know what else could have-"

"Oh, god, don't use your sleeve, you animal. What do you think I'm getting this for?" Emma tuts as she holds up the wet paper towel "Come here, she instructs"

My face is pulled down a little so she can dab at my nose.

I hiss a little as she runs it over the cut. She's not gentle.

"Baby.." she mutters, but I notice her strokes get softer "Now, what kind of person hits a guy with glasses"

I muster a weak laugh.

I could probably do this myself, but Emma seemed focused, and this gave me a chance to close my eyes, holding off the impending headache. She ran the paper towel down the side of my face.

"So, been in many fights before?"

Theres a joking tone to her voice.

"From that stunning performance, what do you think?"

I feel her swipe along the bottom of my jaw.

"So what on earth possessed you to get in the middle of it?"

"Um...manly honour?"

"Of course"

"And seriously, that guy was maybe twice as big as Bobby. He would've been flattened-"

"You were almost flattened" she points out.

"It's the thought that counts. That you've got your friends back"

Emma ran the paper towel over the top of my lip, slowly.

"So would you get into a fight with someone who tried to start anything with me then?" She asks.

I smile "I would, but to be honest I can't imagine a scenario when your not the scariest thing in the room. You'd have them running yourself"

Emma drops the wadd of bloodied paper in the sink "Flatterer"

At that point I opened my eyes, despite myself. I wanted to know if that had made her smile.

It had.

Her eyes scan over my face for any remaining splecks of blood. Or at least that's what I think she's doing. She does this in silence.

Then I notice how she's holding my gaze.

"They're brown"

"What?"

She said it so softly, like she hadn't mean't to say it out loud. I think I heard her right. She was talking about my eyes.

We stood there for a second, me leaning against the basin, her looking up at me, the sink still running. The only sound between us.

Until the bathroom door burst open.

"Oh-shit. Sorry. Didn't realise you guys were-oh, hell, are you okay, dude?"

Emma pulled away and turned the tap off, the random guy looking at the blood stained paper.

"I-yeah, we're fine" I say quickly.

We both dart out back to the hallway.

My mind tries to distance itself from that...moment? Was it a moment? No. God it was in a men's rest room in a seedy bar. Forget how gentle her hands had been while she touched your face, think nothing of prolonged eye contact, just get it together, Summers.

As I tried to shake away any deeper meaning my brain might want to think about, realisation hit me.

"I have spare glasses in my car" I say out of nowhere as it hits me.

"Oh. Right" Emma says, arms folded.

"Man...I am not keen on going back through that crowd"

With my luck I'd fall on some guy and get a black eye next.

Emma just jutted her head down the hall "Service exit?"

I look down the end of the hall where a back door is propped open, leading to a set of concrete steps. Theres a guy, I'll assume bar staff, standing there on his phone, smoking.

"Service exit would be good"

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It's cold outside as we walk around the back of the 24 hour laundromat and across the road.

I don't bother texting Hank or anything, to say we'd left. We'd only be a few minutes anyway.

"God, It's good to be away from all that noise" Emma says.

"Yeah. I was gonna' say you didn't have to come with me, but it's actually nice to get out here"

"Less stale cigarette smell too"

"Always a plus"

We reach the pretty much deserted car park and I'm squinting against the faded street lamps.

I unlock the rear door, sliding inside and across the backseat,

"You keep your spare glasses under there?" Emma asks.

"Box wouldn't fit in the glove compartment. Not with all the map directories and old Eighties mo-town mix tapes Dad shoved in their"

I reach down and feel under the seat ,pulling out the aforementioned box. It's a shoe box actually, from an old pair of sneakers. Inside is the emergency glasses. They're an old pair with a scratch on one of the lenses, which is why they got replaced in the first place, but they were still good as temporary back up. There's also aspirin, hand sanitizer, bandaids, a pair of scissors and some duct tape in there. And some tic tacs.

Emma's laughing behind me, peering in the car "It's a whole DIY emergency kit"

"And? You're saying that like it's a bad thing?"

"No, no, not a bad thing, just...very you"

"Gotta be prepared"

"But what would you need duct tape for?"

"Well, you obviously haven't been on a stretch of highway when your rear view mirror starts falling off"

She takes a look at the mirror. I smile smugly as she notices the mass of duct tape wrapped around it.

"It's a wonder this thing even runs" she mutters.

I pop open a few aspirin, to fight off any headache before it had a chance to properly start.

"Oh, crap. I need water for these" I realise "We might need to go back to the bar"

"No need" Emma says, slipping inside the car to sit next to me. She pulls out a flask from her purse.

"Here"

Well, that was convenient.

I take a swig and immediately choke on it.

"Oh my god, that's alcohol" I splutter, the sharp taste burning my throat.

"Scott, It's a flask, what did you think was going to be in it?"

"I asked for water, I thought that was what I was getting!"

"Who carries around water in a flask?!"

"I don't know, who carries around a flask in general!"

We're yelling and we stop and look each other and burst out laughing.

"God, I'm meant to be the designated driver"

"One swig won't kill you"

"Should antibiotics and alcohol even be mixed?"

"If anything, my own mother has proven that they can for years. You'll be fine" Emma waved it off.

I decide that I really, really don't want that headache. I only take enough of a sip to let me swallow the two tablets, and even then they went down a little dry, making me grimace.

When I hand the flask back to Emma she takes a drink herself.

"I kind of don't want to go back in there now" she says.

"Sure you don't want to miss Age Of Apocalypses next set?"

She mutter a laugh "I'll live"

Then we're just sitting there, in a kind of nice silence. The car door on Emma's side is still open, and you could hear the faint thrum of traffic from further away. I lean back to rest against the seat.

"Wild friday night out, huh" I say.

"Well, you did get punched. That's not tame"

I groan " A great end to a terrible week"

"Want to have a whine about it?"

"Is that Emma speak for 'You wanna' talk about it?"

"In a way" She answers.

"Well, too bad, because I don't really want to talk about it"

"And is that 'Scott speak' for 'It's about Jean?"

"...In a way" I echo back.

Then Emma just sits there, looking at me expectantly.

I sigh "Jean says she depressed?"

"Really?" Emma says, only a trace amount of surprise in her voice.

"Well, that's not the word she used, but she did say she was seeing the school councillor and has been for awhile. Says she not herself, she's stressed, doesn't want to be around people much anymore...it explains a lot really"

"So you noticed it too?"

I pause.

"Probably not as much as I should have"

It seemed to easy to see Jean's behaviour now. Once you actually laid out the word 'depression' it was like the last few months suddenly made sense. On one hand it bothered me that she had kept this to herself for so long, but on the other it made me feel like such an asshole for noticing it in the first place. All these signs and I never really bothered to ask if she was ok.

"I was her boyfriend. I was supposed to be making her happy, and all this time she hasn't been"

"Was?" Emma notes the word I used.

"Am. I mean...I am her boyfriend. I think. I don't know where we are right now" I admit "I don't know if there's anything I can do to help her, or if she even wants me around at all. She said she needed space. I don't know if I should just leave her alone, if that's better for her"

"It's not your job to cure someones depression. No one can do that for someone else" Emma says, in the softest voice I think I've heard her use.

"But what made her depressed in the first place? I know you didn't know her before, but Jean was...always so happy, and surrounded by people. She's got a good family, everyone loves her, her grades are fine-"

"Scott-" Emma cuts me off "Depression is...it's an unruly thing. Not so much caused by anything, sometimes it just happens to someone, out of nowhere, for no reason"

Or maybe I could be the reason. One of them.

Emma readjusted herself on the backseat, kicking off her heels to tuck her legs under her and face me better "The way I picture depression is as an entirely separate entity. It's a thing that attaches itself to a person, changes them without their permission, until they can't even remember the person they used to be. It lives in the back of peoples minds, telling them they're useless and that nothings worth it, which makes them sad, which makes them feel hopeless, which makes them not want to get out of bed in the morning, which leads to guilt and by then they've re-assured themselves that they are in fact worthless, just like the voice told them. It's something you have to fight off, shut up that voice that isn't theirs, but more often than not people learn to co-exist with it, and in the worst cases, they let it win. Then they forget they even have their own voice at all"

I thought it over, Emma gave me a idea that this distant, angry Jean wasn't really her was slightly comforting. It didn't really help in a practical way though.

"If I went home and googled 'How to cure depression', I'm gonna get pages of stupid answers like 'do yoga' or 'eat more Kale' aren't I?"

"Or to listen to the laughter of children, or some other trite bullshit some forty year old hippie writes up on her wordpress" Emma scoffed.

"...she could get on medication?"

"If that's what Jean wanted to do, she could, but it's up to her. Like I said before, you can't fight someones depression for them"

I laugh but theres no humor behind it "I wish I could"

Then Emma reached out and did a very un-Emma like thing.

She held my hand.

"It's hard watching someone change. When they take themselves somewhere you can't reach them"

Those words resounded in the back of my beat up old car. They hit me like I didn't expect them too.

"That's exactly what it feels like"

"I know. My brother tried to kill himself a few years ago"

I will always marvel at the things Emma could come out with so calmly. She wasn't teary, her voice didn't crack. She said it so matter of factly.

And now, in fact, I didn't know what to say.

"That...sucks"

"You have such a way with words"

"Yeah, I suck at this this kind of thing"

"And such an extended vocabulary"

"Do you have to dart between such heavy topics like depression with heavy sarcasm? It's hard to keep up"

"Sorry. It's a coping mechanism" she, again, stated like a fact.

"...you don't talk about your family much" I point out.

Emma gives a silent little nod.

I feel like she's trying to bite back a mechanical sarcastic response.

"They're not like yours" was all she ended up saying.

I squeezed her hand in mine. It was so much smaller, with softer skin and manicured nails.

"Your hands are cold" I say, lazily. My voice comes out low, like the weight of our conversation has exhausted me.

"Maybe yours are just warm"

That makes me smile.

"Even when we're being all vulnerable, having a moment, you've still got to be like that" I let out a breath of a laugh "I love it"

I say it without thinking. That word just slipped out.

I could take it back, stumble over my words, excuse it.

But instead I decide to let it hang in their air between us.

"Really?" Emma asks, staring at me. Trying to read me.

"Yeah" I barely whisper.

And at this point I knew what I was saying.

"So we're having a moment then, are we?"

The way her voice was playful, but serious. The way her body shifted lightly. She knew what I was saying too.

Then it just...happened.

It's funny how rarely anyone asks to be kissed, or gets permission to kiss someone. It all just happens through that feeling, that weird air and electricity between you. The way your eyes meet, how two sets of lips part. How theres that split second of complete knowing about whats about to happen, just before your lips meet.

And now I was kissing Emma.

This hadn't been part of any plan, but I wasn't going to stop it. Not right now, when I could feel her loosen her grip from my hand, letting her fingers travel to the nape of my neck, pulling herself closer towards me. I placed my free hand on her waist, on the smooth fabric of her dress. It wasn't good enough, I wanted to feel her bare skin. I gripped and trailed my hand down to her leg, pausing over the hemline.

She dragged her nails, only so gently, over the base of my neck. I took that as a silent permission.

The open car door , the cold night air, had taken any warmth from her skin, but that didn't make it any less lovely. I don't think I'd ever understand how girls could get their skin to feel so smooth. It was addicting, stroking over her leg like that.

The kiss was bold from the start. Emma knew what she was doing, and it wasn't hard to follow along. There wasn't any shy pecks, or nervous tongue darting. We weren't fourteen at our first dance, this kiss was full of need, and the pent up realisation that I'd been wanting this for longer than I should admit to anyone. From the way Emma ran her hand rhythmically through my hair, I hoped she'd been wanting this as badly too.

It all gets taken in at once. The touch of her, the smell of her hair mixed with the familiar smell of my car, the taste? I can't describe the taste. I never understood how lips were supposed to taste of anything, like they always described in the books. If anything I could taste the vaguest hints of alcohol clinging to the insides of our mouths. I hope she can't taste any dried blood on my lips, I can't help but over think.

I got more confident as I could feel Emma's breathing getting heavier, with every other stroke up her leg, I let my hand dart in towards her inner thigh, reaching higher and higher each time, my own breath getting heavier as well.

I was getting hard at this point, and Emma probably guessed that. She pulled away, and it only took a second for her to move her body, swing a leg across, so she sat comfortably in my lap, straddling me. She took the opportunity to run both her hands through my hair, starting at the base of my neck and travelling up, slow and massage like.

"Is this ok?" she asks, a surprisingly tender sounding question.

I think it's because we both know it isn't. What we're doing right now wasn't ok at all. I couldn't even put this down to that one sip of alcohol, this was just poor decision making that was going to cause trouble down the line.

But it was hard to think about that when Emma gave a sudden, slow, roll of her body, grinding her hips against the bulge in my pants.

I made a sound that was not a worded answer.

I'm sure the way I grabbed at her hips with more need than before, and pulled her closer, was answer enough.

There was one more quick kiss before we pulled apart, settling into a rhythm, pressing our bodied harder and faster into each other. It was better that way, I was free to look at her.

God, she was gorgeous. Really gorgeous.

She was dishevelled, lips pink and parted, the smallest pants on her breath as we sped up and I rocked under her. There was a satisfaction knowing that I got to see her like this, Emma with her guard down, her expression natural, not hard and calculating. I wanted to watch her lose herself, watch the way her face changed if we went further, hear the noises she would make.

Emma's short dress had rode up above her hips at this point, letting her move more freely, as well as giving me a view I could barely take my eyes from.

I moved my hands slowly up her thighs, pushing the material out of the way, my fingers brushing the edges of her underwear. She sat back against my hips, her back straightening, a small distance between us. She was watching my hand, as I gently slid my fingertips under the elastic, only an inch, like a test.

"Yes" Emma only had to breathe, wanting me to go further. I didn't need much more encouragement. Given permission, I slipped my hand under the layer of material, stroking down and running a finger over her. She was already wet.

I ran my fingers up and down her, and the soft moan she gave made me quicken my movements.

Then she reached down and massaged her palm against my erection. Then it was my turn to moan, and mine was louder than hers as she pressed harder and faster against the fabric of my jeans, which I cursed were in the way.

Luckily, Emma decided they should be gotten rid of too. It wasn't the easiest task to unbuckle the belt of my pants, and somehow shift them down enough to reveal the top of my boxers, before she pulled them away too and grabbed me hard in one hand.

I let out a kind of hiss of release as she started stroking me up and down, both of us now doing our best to please the other.

"God...that's.." I mutter out loud, and a smile plays on Emma's lips.

"That's what?" She pressed "Were you trying to dirty talk just then? God, that's good, baby? God, that's the way, just like that?"

"I know your joking-" I say between breaths "But that's still kind of hot"

I slip the finger that's stroking her upwards, feeling for the tightness, entering her for the first time.

There was a gasp I'll say I was satisfied to hear.

"Was that good, baby?" I say, unable to keep from smirking a little.

Emma gives me a harder tug than before, teasing, but I can't say it felt bad.

"You know, your about as big as I imagined" she whispered, leaning forward to the crook of my neck.

That make a million questions dart across my mind, the first and most important being-

"You've imagined this before?"

"Mmmm" she answers, sucking and biting at my neck.

"So...how big is big?" I can't help but ask.

"Do you want me to tell you have the biggest monster cock I've ever had the pleasure of holding in my hand?"

"Really? Even when we're...jerking each other off, theres sarcasm?"

Emma just laughed as she pushed her hips against my fingers, making me go deeper.

"Not to feed your ego or anything, but you're above average. Slightly" she says, teasingly.

I'll take that.

The talk, the joking, dies down, and for the next couple minutes it's back to the heavy breathing, with Emma going back to my neck, as our fingers work at each other, my free hand back to stroking the top of her leg, still not over the smoothness of her skin.

It wasn't long before I started feeling myself grow close. My head falls back against the headrest, my whole body tightening.

"Scott!"

I jump, my eyes snapping open. A bolt of fear running through me.

That wasn't Emma' voice, and Emma had jumped like I did, the both of us pulling away from each other as we stared at the door we'd, stupidly, left open.

"Hank!" Emma was the first to reply, as he stood there, looking at us with a kind of horror.

We all started talking at the same time.

"What the fuck are you doing!?"

"We we're just-honestly, lets not-"

"Shit, mother fucking...shit" was all I managed to come out with, hastily buckling up my pants as Emma climbed off me, pulling down her dress.

Hank had stepped away from the car, running both hands through his hair as he paced.

I stumble out of the car. I know I'm sweaty, I know Hank just saw my dick.

I don't even know what to say, I just know I need to get something out "Ok, so, I don't have an excuse, but-"

"BUT WHAT!?" Hank roars, with a kind of anger I've not seen from him before "But what, Scott?!"

"Look, I just- I just need a minute to gather my thoughts, I can explain-"

"Oh my god" Hank muttered.

"It all just kind of happened"

"We didn't know where you'd gone-"

"We'd just come out here for my glasses-"

"We looked everywhere around the club, we thought you'd been kicked out-"

"And I took some aspirin to get rid of a headache-"

"Then I said I'd go check out here for you, since you couldn't have gone anywhere else-"

"And we just got to talking and that led to...I don't know how-"

"You were having sex!" Hank yelled at me.

"Not entirely" Emma butted in, but Hank shot her a scathing look.

"Oh, don't be pedantic, Emma, not right now!"

"Hey, Hank, just calm down-" I start, but he wasn't hearing it.

"I knew there was something with you two, I knew it!"

"What? No. No there was nothing between- not before tonight" I argue.

"Bullshit!" Hank cried "Everyone could see it, everyone knew it was going to happen!"

"And who's everyone?" I ask, my own voice raising.

"The entire school could see you walking to every class together, going to each others houses, sharing fucking political science notes and giving each other looks! I knew you were too defensive the other day when I brought Emma up, and it pretty much fucking confirmed everything when she showed up tonight, when I know for a fact you didn't even bother to ask Jean-"

"Can you not talk about me like I'm not standing right here!" Emma glowered, and Hank turned on her.

"You don't have a say in this, you should just keep quiet if you're really smart!"

"Hey!" I shout over him "What the hell, Hank, don't talk to her like that"

"You didn't even bother to ask Jean-"Hank continued, ignoring me "Your girlfriend!" he stares hard at me.

"Your. Girlfriend!" He says again, for good measure.

"I.." I start weakly "I told you the other day, I don't know what we are right now, and-"

"Bullshit! That's such weak bullshit" Hank steps away from me, heading back to the club, still muttering to himself.

"Would you just listen!" I shout back at him across the road "What do you even think you know about all this?! You don't know-"

"I know that your a cheater!" he throws back at me "You-" he points back at Emma "I barely know you, so I guess finding out you don't have a decent moral compass isn't as surprising, and maybe I should've listened to the rumours about you, but you" he points at me "I didn't think you were ever capable of this kind of shit, Scott. Never"

"Oh, fuck you!" I yell, anger washing over me.

Yes, I had done something wrong.

I...knew that. I was very aware of that. I really didn't have that much right to be mad.

But this tone Hank had was infuriating, and I couldn't help but rise up to his anger.

"You think you're so smart, but you don't know everything about what's been going on, you don't know how it's been-"

"To be you?" he says "To be good looking? to have a nice girlfriend? Yeah, shit, that must've been so hard on you, I can see why you wanted to try and get off with some slut as well"

"Hank?!" I stare incredulously at him. Emma was his friend. I was his friend.

"Forget him" I hear Emma say as she heads back to the car "Come on Scott, just let him go" I can tell she's seething.

"Yeah, just go, Scott. Go with her. We'll get a taxi. I don't give a shit"

He gives me one more dark look before he disappears into the club entrance.

I'm standing there in the open space of the empty car park, and my breathing returns to normal. The anger leaves me, but my minds still running.

That happened too fast.

This whole night happened too fast.

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Raw Sugar: Metric

Sort of wonder why No one said a word
Don't you like it on the sly?
Don't you like it till it hurts?
Have I been on your mind? What's a voice without a song?
Something in your head You've been fighting all the long...

New Love: Maroon5

What the f*ck, I got nothing to lose
I'm a slave to the way that you move
I'm an addict for all that you do
You're the only drug I wanna do yeah
I can tell that you're needing my love