Friday, November 13

"Get up, you lump of lard," Robert muttered in annoyance as he ripped the fluffy quilt cover off from over Richard's head. In two steps he swept over to the window, pushing the curtains open in one great flourish of his arms. Light flooded the room, illuminating Richard's plush bed, the oak desk standing steadily in one corner, and the stacks of books lining the walls in complementary shelves or, when room had run out, haphazard piles of textbooks and papers lying on the carpet. Richard groaned, and Robert turned to face him with his hands crossed. "I feel like your mother, and I don't like it."

"My mother's a lot better looking than you," Richard said, voice muffled in the comfort of his down pillow. Robert rolled his eyes, yanking said pillow away from his friend. "Up. You're going to miss class."

Just as he was about to pull off the quilt the phone rang shrilly outside and Robert glared at Richard, leaving to pick it up with Richard's pillow tucked under one arm. Richard reached down and pulled his blankets back over his head.

"Hello? … no, this is Robert … oh, Mrs. Gilmore! How nice to hear from you. … oh yes, I'm enjoying my classes very much…"

Richard leaped up at his mother's name, hurling away his blankets and leaving his room to snatch the phone from Robert, who grinned at him and mouthed mama's boy. Richard rolled his eyes.

"Good morning mother," he started, but was cut off by Trix's sharp clear voice on the other end.

"I had a very unpleasant phone conversation with Evelyn yesterday night, Richard."

Sighing, Richard sat down on the settee and kneaded his left temple with his fingers. "Mother –"

"Why on earth did I not hear a peep about this whole affair from my only son? Are you too old to tell your mother important things going on in your life?"

"No, mother. I was going to tell you tonight at dinner –"

"Pennilyn Lott! You broke your engagement with Pennilyn Lott, Richard! You love that girl. Whatever happened?" Trix's voice softened over the line, and Richard sighed again.

"I can't get into it now, mother. Can I talk to you later? I have class to get to, and I really can't be late."

There was a pause, and his mother finally acquiesced. "Very well, I know school is important to you. Be a good boy, darling. How are they feeding you in that place? I feel as though I should be sending you packages of food from home. I could get Carlos to whip you up some non-perishables…"

Richard chuckled. "I'm at Yale, mother, not the state penitentiary. But thank you. I'll see you tonight."

"Alright, Richard. I love you, darling."

"I love you too, mother."

As he hung up, he looked straight at Robert who was staring with his mouth hung open. "Did you just tell your mother you loved her?" he asked incredulously. "What are you, six?"

Rolling his eyes, Richard haughtily walked back into his bedroom – or at least as haughtily as he could, wearing striped pajamas. Robert followed him, not even bothering to avert his eyes as Richard lifted the pajama shirt over his head. Robert leaned against Richard's desk, rummaging in his pockets as Richard ruffled in his wardrobe for a shirt.

"Don't smoke in here," Richard said, muffled by the blue shirt he now struggled to pull over his head, ignoring the buttons. "You know that these books soak up the smell. Go smoke in the living room."

Instead, Robert pouted childishly and returned the cigarette he had extracted from his pockets. Twirling the desk chair, Robert sat down. "So."

Raising an eyebrow, Richard dropped his pajama trousers and grabbed the slacks he had left half-folded on his bedside table. "Spit it out. Why aren't you getting to class? You should be in microbiology right now."

Robert tapped his fingers restlessly on the oak of the desk, staring vaguely out the window, then spun on the leather chair back to face his roommate. "I'm just wondering… how you are."

He buckled his belt before frowning. "Did the Bodysnatchers replace you with a girl?" Richard asked as he reached down to pull on a pair of shoes. "You stayed to talk about my feelings?"

"Ah ha!" Robert said triumphantly. "Friend of mine, your indignant tone definitely suggests that you're just overflowing with emotion. And you don't want to keep it bottled up now, do you?"

"What's in it for you?" Richard shot back as he tied the laces of his very expensive Italian shoes. They were the first pair he'd found on the floor.

"I just want to knoooow, Dick," Robert whined, looking very much like a five-year old draped on Richard's desk chair. "You've done nothing but skulk around our dorm for the past week, but you haven't even been drinking and it's not like you're crying your eyes out. Are you upset or not?"

"I'm fine, Robert," the Gilmore snapped with irritation. He shrugged on a jacket, grabbing his bookbag and standing to glare at his friend. "Go to class. I'm fine."

As he left, Robert leaned back thoughtfully. The front door slammed shut a room away. "Definitely not fine," Robert muttered to himself. He paused. "And that's not even what the Invasion of the Bodysnatchers is about."

…

The clock on the mantelpiece was ticking quietly against a background soundtrack of tasteful classical music. In the quiet stillness of his family home's dining room, everything seemed amplified; Richard could hear the chef's footsteps in the kitchen and the scrape of his father's utensils against his plate. He could see the heat wavering from the radiator against the wall, and although she didn't know it, he could also see his mother's surreptitious glances across at him.

Gently sliding the edge of his dessert spoon into the chocolate mousse, Richard waited, slightly annoyed, for what would eventually come. It happened as soon as the elder Mr. Gilmore excused himself for a business call, scraping his chair at the head of the table backwards and leaving his son and wife sitting across from one another.

"Richard," Trix implored, reaching a hand across the table. Her chocolate mousse had been left untouched. "Tell your mother what happened to you and dear Lynnie, darling."

He didn't say anything, only lifted his spoon to his lips to savour the light texture and sweetness of the mousse. Carlos was a fantastic chef, a portly old man who loved his sweets and steaks above all else, and his chocolate mousse was absolutely delicious. Richard wondered whether he might bring any back to Yale.

Richard's mother, watching him closely, suddenly gasped. "No!" Trix cried, hand fluttering to rest on her heart. "That – harlot! She didn't –"

"Mother!" Richard said, dropping his spoon. "Pennilyn did nothing of the sort. Don't even entertain that thought, she's a perfectly trustworthy woman."

"Oh," Trix said, looking almost annoyed that her theory had not held. "Well, then, I don't see a problem, do I?"

"Look, Mother, we just had our differences and they didn't work out," Richard said, attempting to adopt that tone of finality that his father commandeered so confidently. He was fairly sure it didn't work on his mother. "That's all."

"Well that's hardly enough to go from," Trix persisted, leaning forward to stare him in the eye. Richard fidgeted uncomfortably in his lap. "Every marriage has differences, Richard, and it's solving the problems that really counts."

Richard sighed quietly, taking another spoon of mousse.

"What will you think in a week, Richard?" Trix asked, leaning back again and waving her hand in her face. "There will always be disputes and anger but you work through them. Do you think I didn't notice the way that Stephen Dennings was making eyes at your Lynnie during your engagement party? Another man's fiancée, indeed! I had half a mind to call his mother. What if darling Pennilyn is snatched up while you keep up this sham of a separation?"

Richard gaped at his mother, who smiled encouragingly. "Exactly, dearest. There are so many boys your age around here. None of them in any way as wonderful as you are, but just imagine! Pennilyn Lott with – with – Stephen Dennings, God forbid, or that horrible Smithson boy –"

Suddenly, Richard stood, the legs of his chair making an unpleasant sound against the floor as he quickly nodded to his mother. "Thanks for the meal, Mother," he said hurriedly, already halfway out of the dining room. "I'll see you next week."

"Richard!"

Richard almost ran to the door, snatching his coat from a very bemused maid, and leapt into his car hoping that he had enough gas to get back to Yale (because God knew he definitely didn't have enough cash on him to fill up his tank tonight). The meter shuddered precariously close to the Empty symbol for his liking, but Richard still reversed violently down the driveway and into the night.

…

Emily unclasped the pearl necklace she had chosen for the night, setting it down in the tray of her jewelry box with tender care. That night had been a Smith College DAR meeting, which had turned out to be an absolute disaster. A recent deluge of younger recruits, freshmen eager to join new clubs and see new things, had inflated the group's numbers and created a whole legion of giggly, inattentive girls who without fail caused something to go wrong during each meeting. At tonight's meeting one of the girls' boyfriends showed up in the form of a doleful serenade outside the window. Apparently they'd had a fight and he had rather stupidly decided to make it up to her with three dozen roses and a loving rendition of Can't Help Falling in Love. It would have been rather sweet if not for the fact that he was a rather terrible singer, and rain was coming down in bucketfuls outside.

Needless to say, by the time they had coaxed him inside, sodden flowers and all, the meeting had been over and only half of the agenda had been covered. Then she had gotten stuck comforting some other poor girl who'd caught her twin sister canoodling with her boyfriend. That had been a lengthy, painful session, and now it was well past midnight. She was exhausted.

Emily sighed, rubbing her eyes and reaching to unbutton the top button of her classy navy suit jacket. Just as Emily slid the sleeves off her arms, hanging the jacket carefully on a hanger, she heard loud knocking on the door.

Striding towards the front door of the dormitory in the jacket's complementary navy shift dress, Emily wrenched open the handle. "For goodness' sake, Sweetie, why must you always forget to bring your keys when I told you that – oh!"

Instead of her notoriously absent roommate's slender petite shape and wide blue eyes, Emily looked up into Richard Gilmore's rather intimidating stature and, for some reason, rather annoyed expression. She took a moment to recover from the initial shock of seeing Richard at the door of her dormitory, and stared a few second longer before slipping deftly into her usual dryness. "Well, I see you've recovered from Saturday night." Saturday night, when he'd told her he was in love with her. That had been an odd night.

"Will you let me in or not?" Richard replied brusquely, not bothering to hear her answer before brushing past her and taking a seat in the living room.

"Excuse me?" Emily asked, stunned, and turned to face him.

Richard was gazing, the same stony expression on his face, around Emily's dormitory, absorbing the cool cream accents to the warm golden-browns and robin-egg blues that Emily had specifically chosen to decorate with that year. She had rather liked the colour scheme, but the attention he was paying to it was beginning to make her feel uncomfortable, and she frowned.

At the movement, Richard turned back to her and stared at her before standing and beginning to pace in front of her. Utterly confused, Emily cleared her throat, but Richard stopped just a step in front of her and looked at her again. Forget just uncomfortable, Emily was now just about ready to ask him to leave.

"Richard –"

"I broke my engagement to Pennilyn."

Emily blinked in confusion even as a flood of cheer swelled her heart. Angrily, she squashed it. It meant nothing. Richard's broken engagement meant nothing, and she still had no idea why he was here telling her this. (Except, sort of, somewhere inside her, she did and was feeling a little smug about it. But this definitely wasn't something she would think about until much later.)

He had started pacing again.

"I'm sorry," Emily offered weakly.

"I don't even feel bad about it," Richard interrupted her. He stopped walking for a second, then resumed. He held up a finger. "I loved her, and I still love her, but I don't feel bad at all."

Emily bit back a scathing remark. From what she had seen for herself at the engagement party, Pennilyn Lott had been nothing much more than a typical vapid blonde society girl with a sunny disposition and a demure façade hiding dull unintelligence. Emily conceded that she had never really met the girl before, but she had sounded like a complete idiot. It was no wonder Richard didn't feel bad.

A part of her disagreed, and told her that there was a very clear reason why he didn't feel bad at all.

Another part of her said quietly and irrelevantly, this forceful Richard with lots to say is very different from the shy Richard who throws up next to your shoes. He's awfully attractive.

She scolded herself for this errant thought, and merely stood in silence as he suddenly sat back down on the settee.

"Even Robert noticed. Robert, who can't tell right from left on some days. That first night I was expectedly upset. Then, I got up in the morning and I felt fine. Better than fine, even, I felt excited. You'd think I would at least be a little bit sad."

Emily swallowed. "I don't know what you're talking about, Richard." Her insides thrummed against her skin.

"And then my mother went on and on but all I could think about was being too late to have you."

In one fluid movement, Richard stood, unfolding his long legs and giving her that same intense stare as he'd given her that moment at William's party, the concentrated stare that made her knees turn to jelly and her fingers curl into her palms. Unwittingly, she dampened her lips.

And then, his arms were around her, warm fingers grasping the sides of her arms, pulling her flush against his broad chest as he crushed his lips to hers and kissed her fervently, drew a hand up to tangle his fingertips in the depths of her auburn waves and traced patterns against her scalp in his quest to pull her closer, making Emily light-headed. Her fingers automatically clutched at the lapels of his jacket, then slid upwards to wrap her arms around his neck as she responded eagerly, mouth soft against his but reacting with the same urgency. She was dizzy with his intensity, weak at the knees, fingers uncurling loosely as he kissed her. So this is it? Emily thought, dazed.

When he finally pulled slightly back from her, allowing her to draw a much-needed shaky breath, Emily suddenly recalled their situation and pushed him away, stumbling backwards as she glared at him, heart beating furiously. He offered her a confused look.

"Excuse me!" she declared, voice cracking. "I refuse to be –" Emily gestured wildly, before taking another step back and giving herself a deep breath of air. She forced herself to calm down. "I will not be the woman you run to after your relationship implodes, some kind of rebound -"

He stared at her with a strange expression of desire then he was back on her, hands pushing her gently against the door as he kissed her again, setting every nerve ending on fire as his fingers trailed up her arm and neck to cup her cheek and brush his thumb back and forth across the skin taut across her jawbone. She gave a soft sigh as he leaned back after a long embrace. Richard looked down at her with fond amusement, still gently stroking across her cheek with a thumb and his smile a direct contrast to his earlier frustration.

"Emily," he murmured, "I drove from Hartford to Yale, tracked down Robert on a Friday night, got your sister's number to get your address, and then drove all the way here to find you. If you really think I just want you as a rebound I think you've got the wrong man."

"I still don't know what you're talking about," Emily replied, crossly. Contradictory to her tone, her fingers were gently ruffling through the soft brown hairs at the back of his head. Inside, she was smiling. Never had she felt more comfortable.

Richard exhaled softly, hand dropping to wrap back around her waist. "I broke up with Pennilyn on Sunday."

Emily raised her eyebrows. "Sunday?" she repeatedly, incredulously. It had only been a few days, then. Maybe she was right about being a rebound. She attempted to gently push him back a step, but he only tightened his grip around her.

"Monday morning, I thought to myself, I must be devastated, but I wasn't. All these years and it took a break-up to realize that maybe Lynnie and I are better just as friends."

"Friends?" Emily echoed blankly. He smirked at her bemusement, pushing a rebellious strand of hair away from her face, and she wondered at how it could possibly feel so natural to stand here, in Richard's arms, with his fingers brushing gently against her cheeks as he neatened her hair.

"Monosyllabism doesn't suit you either," he said in a low voice, amusement tingeing his expression. She rolled her eyes, suddenly annoyed; it seemed like he was trying to make a joke but Emily was tired of his beating around the bush with things she didn't quite understand.

"Get to the point, Richard," she said sharply, and his smile only grew. He tucked his hand back around her waist, looking down at her.

"Has anyone ever told you how attractive you are when you're angry? I spent all week thinking about you, Emily."

Her stomach dropped to a height somewhere around her knees and she couldn't help the silly smile that made its way on to her face. It was as if she was fourteen again – she felt as if she should have been able to suppress the childish happiness this tiny little statement gave her, but she couldn't stop grinning like an idiot.

"Robert thought I missed Pennilyn and kept bugging me about it, but to be honest I was thinking about how I could possibly apologize to you for Saturday night. And my mother kept going on about how there are all the other men in this world I realized that I really don't want to see you with any of them. I thought maybe, you know, we could do something. Some night. If you wanted." At this, he slipped back into uncertainty, hopeful eyes scrutinizing her face for a response.

Emily only laughed, rolling her eyes. "Are you that eloquent with all the girls?" she asked dryly, palms resting back against his chest. She could feel his heartbeat under her right hand, and it provided her some warm sense of security that thrilled her.

"Only if I want to go out to dinner with them," he countered.

She tilted her face to the side, pursing her lips. "I suppose I could make room in my schedule," she said. He chuckled and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"I'm taking that as a yes. And since it's getting rather late, I suppose I should head home."

It was indeed rather late, and Emily debated offering up her settee for him to sleep on, but Richard saw the look on her face and shook his head. "I'll be fine. If anything I'll find a hotel or something nearby, but I shouldn't impose on you and your roommate."

"But–"

"I'll call you in the morning, how about that?" Richard asked, smiling down at her. "I'll be fine. Believe me."

Emily pursed her lips again, brow furrowing as she tidied the collar of his shirt. "Fine. But call me first thing."

Stepping rather reluctantly away from her, Richard beamed. "Emily, I wouldn't have it any other way," he said tenderly, and gently tucked that ever-errant strand of hair back behind an ear.

She smiled up at him, and he softly kissed the base of her palm in a show of old-fashioned affection that made Emily's cheeks flush red and insides quiver. "Oh, stop stalling," Emily said in a pathetic attempt to sound annoyed. She pulled her hands from his, stepping away from the door and opening it for him. Offering her a genuine smile, Richard crossed back over the threshold and looked at her one last time.

"I'll call you," he said with a boyish grin, "I promise."

And then he was gone and Emily had closed the door. She leaned against it for a few moments, heart pumping furiously and cheeks stained pink. How was this even possible? Melinda always joked about her being the ice queen due to her utter disdain for the usual fraternity boys who tried to chat her up and wrangle a date, and yet all it took from Richard was a smile to make her heart throb as if trying to escape her ribcage.

Emily was used to being in control, and the wild things Richard did to her emotions both amazed and shocked her. They hadn't even known one another for a month and already, she felt as if she could live only on this intense warmth that spread across her chest and the electricity that crackled between them with every touch. She took a deep breath, composing herself, and reminded herself that she was an Archer and Archers followed things through completely.

Richard was just about to take the first step down the stairs when Emily suddenly appeared from behind the door to her dorm and called his name. "Richard! Come back."

He turned, slightly confused, and she was striding purposefully towards him in her high heels and closely-cut dress and he wasn't sure that he had ever seen such an amazing sight. His heart leapt up, and he rather shamefully forced himself to visualize Robert naked on their coffee table to prevent other parts of his anatomy from doing the same thing.

This all went down the drain as she forcefully pulled him down towards her, kissing him hard with her fingers roaming the nape of his neck and the line of his jaw, a kiss that surprised him and elicited from him an unwitting little groan. He started to reach around to her hips but she broke away, taking a small step backwards as she pressed a small piece of paper into the palm of his hand.

"That's my phone number. How you intended to call me without it, I don't know. Goodnight."

And then she was gone with the gentle click of the door snapping shut and Richard stared down at the piece of paper in his hand. Underneath the row of numbers marching across the paper Emily had written I don't like broken promises. Call me.

As he folded it and slipped it into his pocket, ready to head on home, he couldn't help but grin wildly. Richard had a feeling that he would be fulfilling promises to Emily for a very long time.

.

fin

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A/N. Firstly - yes, you aren't mistaken, this chapter is much less omniscient to Richard's POV than the previous ones. Yes, that is the point.

Secondly - whoa, it's done! As a very new writer to the GG fandom, having published only one other very short drabble, I want to say thank you to all my very kind reviewers and their words of support through the course of this fic! If you haven't reviewed yet, I encourage you to do so :) I love hearing what you all think about the characters and the prose so go on and click that button!

After finishing this I think I fell even more in love with Emily and Richard. You can probably expect more about them from me in the future; I particularly enjoy writing Emily which I didn't get to do nearly enough in this fic, so more Emily fic is probably forthcoming! I hope you all enjoyed the ride... I know I did. :)