Title: Cocoa and Mistletoe
Rating: PG-13/ Language Content
Summary: Even Trevor can get in the Christmas Spirit
Warning: NOT BETA-ed! Trevor/Emily Why? Because, I drank way too much coffee today and they would be so freaking cute together, but yet no one writes for them.
Disclaimer: I think that fanfictiondotnet should really come up with one displayed at the top of the page like all those annoying ads they have everywhere. I don't own anything.
The early December wind cut between the downtown buildings and slapped her making the tears that streaked her face burn. She wiped her cheeks, making them disappear with her striped cotton glove. Emily Davis wasn't crying because she was sad, she was crying because she was angry. Everyone had warned her, her best-friend, her brother, even her best-friends brother, but she hadn't listened. She'd given the handsome blonde with the perfect grin the benefit of the doubt.
She growled in frustration, pulling the hood of her coat over her head as she saw a few snowflakes starting to fall. She'd already walked at least two miles in her new shoes and her feet started killing her the moment he'd thrown her out of the car. Shoving her hands back in her pockets, her fingers brushed her cell phone. She gripped it, resisting the temptation to throw it on the pavement or at the next taxi that passed her by. What was the use in having the rhinestone covered thing when the battery died right when you needed it?
She sighed, putting more distance between her and the street behind her as she hunkered further into her scarf. She wasn't sure she could call anyone anyway. There was a degree of embarrassment to all of it. She didn't think she could take the 'I told you so,' from her best friend.
Paul 'Put-out or Get-out' Potter, it was right there in his nickname. People didn't get those things for no reason, but she'd ignored it. She'd known better, he was cute, he was popular and sometimes that's all she needed. She disliked that shallow part of her personality, the one that was more concerned with how people saw her than what grade she had made on a final exam.
However that part had been overpowered, when she'd felt his hand moving under her skirt and up her thigh. He actually thought he was being a gentleman when he'd given her the choice to climb in the back seat or walk home. What a fucking asshole, she thought trying to readjust her purse on her shoulder without taking her hands out of her pockets.
She sniffled. She might be alone and freezing, but she had her pride. She just wished her pride had come with a working cell-phone or stockings.
The faint beep of a car horn behind her didn't distract her from her mission to get home. The street was nearly deserted at this hour and when it reached her ears again, she finally stopped. A black Volkswagen came to a crawl beside her, she watched from the corner of her eye as someone stepped out. Gripping her cell phone tightly, she planned to throw it at the man's head if he tried to solicit her. She wasn't naive, she knew what kinds of girls walked the streets this late.
"Emily?" the boy asked. She smiled as she recognized his voice immediately.
"Trevor?" she asked, swinging around. He was looking at her over the hood of his car, the black collar of his long wool coat pulled up to protect his neck. He was wearing a knit-cap and his dark eyes watched her with concern.
"I thought that was you," he breathed, his breath a gray puff. " What are you doing out here?" he asked, looking up and down the empty street. There was nothing on the street but the few late-night vendors closing up, the stragglers trying to rush home and Emily Davis wrapped in her pink peacoat.
"I-" she started, but stopped. She couldn't tell Trevor. "I had a date and let's just say it didn't go well and leave it at that."
"Okay," he answered slowly, glancing away. "Well, do you need a ride home?"
Relief flooded her and she hoped off the sidewalk and reached for the doorhandle.
"I'll take that as a yes then," he mumbled, pulling his own door shut.
Instantly the heat inside the car overwhelmed her exposed skin, but she could barely feel it through her layers of still freezing clothes. She pushed her shoulders into the seat behind her relieving the tension in her lower back. The next time that she went on a date with a boy she barely knew, there was no question about it, she was definitely going to wear flats.
"Thank you so much," she said, dreamily. Closing her eyes she shifted in the small seat, and let the warmth slowly seep into her every pore.
Thank goodness for small favors, she thought as an overall feeling of comfort and safety ran over her.
"No problem," he said. She heard the sound of crunching ice and the soft hum of the car engine as he turned the car back onto the street.
He drove in silence, no angry music, no talking on his cell phone, no telltale beep of a finished text message. Emily opened her eyes and glanced at him. His eyelashes looked ridiculously long from this angle as he did nothing but concentrate on the road ahead of them. She usually preferred lots of noise, lots of talking, lots of movement, but this was nice too.
He slowly took a corner onto a new street. "You live next-door to Casey MacDonald, right?" he asked, letting the steering wheel slide beneath his fingers as it righted itself.
"Yeah," she sniffled.
He looked at her, his dark eyebrows knitted, but his focus went back to the road ahead of him. "Are you sure you're all right?"
"Yeah," she said, wrapping her hands around her arms. "Guys are jerks."
"Thanks," he mumbled, slowing the car as he came to a red light.
"I didn't mean-" she said, her hands instantly becoming animated as she sat up.
"Relax," he interrupted. "I know what you meant."
"It's just I went out with Paul Potter and it didn't go anything like I thought it would. But I know what you're going to say, what did I expect."
"I wasn't going to say that," he said, reassuringly.
"Well, you're probably going to be the only one," she said, staring back out the window. She sighed watching the streetlights and buildings pass by them. "I was so stupid."
They rode quietly, only the sound of her sniffles breaking the silence, a few more blocks before he shifted in his seat.
"Do you like cocoa?" he asked, breaking the silence.
"What?" she answered.
"Hot-chocolate. Do you like it?"
Puzzled, she stared at him. "Yeah, I guess. But I've never heard anybody call it cocoa before."
"Maybe, you need to get out more," he said, slowing the car as he pulled it over.
"Yeah, well maybe I've been out too much," she said, looking out the window at the vendor standing in the cold. "Maybe my dad and Casey are right? I should just start focusing more on my grades and stop trying to win so many 'popularity contests.'"
He breathed heavily through his nose. "Well, I suppose that's something to think about."
"Obviously, thinking isn't something I've been doing too much of lately," she shot back.
"Okay," he said, hesitantly. "But, do you want some?" he asked, setting the car in park.
"Some, what?"
"Hot-chocolate."
"Oh," she said, surprised. "I guess. But I don't really have any cash."
He snorted. "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't have any intention of paying, Emily," he said softly, looking at her with those dark eyes as if it was the most obvious thing. "So, do you want some or not?"
"Yeah, thanks."
He gave her a strange half-smile as he unfastened his seatbelt and climbed out the door. She watched him move around the front of the car, digging into his back pocket for his wallet as he addressed the small man serving hot drinks.
Sighing, she sat back and ripped off her gloves shoving them deep into her purse. She was getting too warm and unwrapping her scarf she let her eyes roam around the interior. It was surprisingly clean for a teenage boy's car, but the cherry scented air-freshener kind of confused her. A neon glow brought her attention to the radio and she read the number off the screen. It was clear that he'd been listening to a cd before he'd rescued her off the sidewalk.
Looking back out the window, she found him still talking to the vendor guy and kept her eyes on him as she slid her hand over to the volume knob. She slowly turned it up.
A harsh melody filtered through the speakers and she stared at the screen as if it could sort out her confusion. The music was of the Christmas persuasion but with a twist, instrumental but heavy on the electric guitar, it was so different.
She listened to a few more notes and was about to recognize the song when his door opened. His dark eyes shot over to the radio before they came back on her. He looked victimized for just a second but his hurt was quickly covered with indifference. He sighed, climbing into the seat as he put two Styrofoam cups into the console between them. He leaned out, reached on top of the car and retrieved a third one, handing it to her without a word. His fingers lightly gripped the volume knob and he turned the music down.
"It's really hot, so don't burn your tongue," he said, nodding to the coffee cup in her hand.
"Thanks," she mumbled. "I really like that music."
He didn't say anything, but took the top off of his drink and blew on the light brown liquid.
"Who would have thought that Mister Emo would be into Christmas."
He looked at her oddly and took a sip of his drink, before putting it back in its cubby hole.
"I'm not Emo," he said, starting the car and pulling out into the street. "And, honestly how often can you listen to Joy to the World done with Jon Oliva?"
"Who?"
His lips twitched. "Google it."
"Are you making fun of me?" she asked, blowing through the tiny hole in the top of her drink.
"A little," he answered.
She laughed at his honesty, shaking her head.
"Thirsty much?" she asked, looking at the third cup between them.
"What?" he asked, his eyes darting to her and then the cup and then the road. "That's for my sister."
"Oh," she said.
"She's pregnant," he answered, as if that cleared up any confusion she may have had. He sounded weird and she watched him as he reached for his cup. He blew on the top and took a sip.
"Boy or girl," she asked.
"She doesn't want to know," he answered, one handedly taking the street that would eventually bring her home. "Everything's in green."
"Mint is the new pink," she chimed. "But, what do you want? A niece or nephew."
He put the cup back in its home. "I don't think that matters," he said. "But I wouldn't mind a nephew."
"What's wrong with a niece?" she said, slightly affronted.
"Girls are too damn complicated," he answered, but she watched his eyes squint.
"That's not fair," she argued, slapping his arm.
"Yeah, well what's not fair is that I have a sister instead of a brother," he answered, gripping the steering wheel. "See, if I had a brother I wouldn't be driving around in the freezing cold at ten o'clock on a Friday night looking for an open street vendor."
"Yeah, but then I'd still be walking home," she said, taking a sip of the warm beverage. He was right, it stung her tongue a little, but it tasted decent. She hadn't had any since she was a little girl and just the bittersweet flavor made her shiver.
"Well, I suppose it wasn't a total loss then," he confessed, watching her from the corner of his eye.
He slowed, moving around Derek's fairly new car, and coming to a stop right in front of her house. The livingroom light was still burning and she could see their Christmas tree lit in the window.
She meant to tell him thanks for the ride and the hot-chocolate, but she did neither.
"You have a nice car," she said.
"Thanks, but it's not mine," he responded, casually.
She raised her eyebrows and he crossed his arms over his chest.
"It's my sister's."
"The pregnant one?" she asked, taking another sip of her drink. She didn't know why she was being so inquisitive, but as long as he answered, she didn't care to stop.
"The other one," he answered, quickly. "Could you really picture me driving this?"
She studied him for a moment, her eyes traveling to all the parts she missed between passing him in the halls. It looked as though he'd missed a haircut and his lips looked a little pinker than she remembered them. The cold had made his cheeks flush which only made his dark eyes almost black behind his ridiculously long eyelashes. It was enough to make her jealous. His long gloved-fingers wrapped loosely around his cup as he gracefully took a sip of his drink. No, she decided. I really couldn't see him driving this car.
"Okay, since this little punch-buggy is so beneath you. What is your dream car?" she asked, taking a small sip of her drink. It was still too hot.
"I didn't say this car was beneath me," he explained, putting the cup in the console.
"Sorry," she said, feeling her face warming. "I just wanted to know what you would be driving if you could choose."
"Impala," he answered. "Something vintage."
Emily didn't know what he was talking about at all, but that didn't stop her from lying. "Now, that I could totally see you in."
He looked at her his dark eyes smiling, "You have no idea what I'm talking about do you?"
"Sorry," she admitted, shrugging her shoulders apologetically. "I don't know anything about cars, except that I can't have one 'til I raise the money myself. House rules."
"Well, that sucks," he said, turning the car off.
"Don't I know it," she said, watching as he took the keys from the ignition. "But whining isn't going to do anything about it, I'm not Casey, so I guess I have to be okay with it."
"Are you?" he asked, turning to look at her. There was an earnestness in his eyes that made her face warm. He looked away, his eyes resting on the car-lined street.
"What?" she asked, slightly confused at the change of subject.
"After whatever happened with Potter," he asked, his gloved fingers scratching an imaginary tear on the vinyl steering wheel.
Emily looked down at her hands wrapped around her cup, "I guess, I hadn't really thought about it. I've just been having such a good time..."
"Well, how's the cocoa?" he interrupted, as if he didn't want to hear anymore.
"You mean the hot-chocolate," she corrected.
"Toe-mate-toe, Tomato," he answered, dryly.
"It's good," she answered. "Not great, but it really cheered me up. Thanks," she answered.
"Well, then," he said, and even in the bad lighting she could see his face turning red. "I guess it did the trick."
She didn't say anything because he didn't say anything. They just listened to the rhythmic melody of the soft music coming from his sister's speakers. When the song ended, he sighed.
"I should probably walk you up," he said, looking past her at the front door.
"Yeah, you should," she mocked, opening her door. He climbed out the driver's side. "I was just kidding, you really don't have to, "she said, over the hood, before shutting her door.
"It's ten feet, Emily," he answered. "It's not going to kill me. Unless of course you have a bottomless pit hidden somewhere in your yard."
She laughed as she waited for him by the passenger's door. She blew on her hands, rubbing them together to generate warmth. She regretted shoving them into her purse.
They reached her front steps faster than she would have liked and he gave her an amused smile as she fidgeted nervously with her keys. She wanted him to move closer, to give her a sign that this wouldn't be the last time he walked her to her front door, but he didn't. He just shifted his weight from foot to foot trying to stay warm.
"I suppose this is good night, then," he said, through his bright chattering teeth.
" I guess so," she smiled back.
"Well, good night," he answered, turning to leave, but she caught his arm turning him back toward her.
She had always been aggressive. It was in her nature to win. It was why her mother banned her playing sports at a young age and why no one ever wanted to play board games with her. This time was no different.
She didn't hesitate when she kissed him and after the initial shock wore off, he didn't hesitate to kiss her back. His lips were shy, and she had to coax him a little to make him open up. She didn't regret the work it took, when he let her in. His mouth tasted like bittersweet chocolate and one of his hands gently slid into her hair as the other rested lightly on the small of her back. It made her feel safe.
He was the first to pull away, his heavy breaths like grey clouds around his head.
"Why'd you just do that?" he asked, his dark eyes almost black.
"Because you wouldn't," she countered, shoving her hands into her pockets.
"I would've, I just thought that after being kicked out of car..." He breathed deeply taking a step away from her. "I just thought that you'd be a little put-off if I tried anything."
"Oh," she said, realization dawning on her, it made regret her decision even less.
"The thing is Emily, I know why I would do it," he answered. "But why would you?"
She smiled at him, pointing her finger to a small space above their heads. His black eyes darted up and he snorted.
"Oh, I see," he mumbled, taking a few steps backward. "Mistletoe, you kissed me because of the mistletoe."
Emily sighed, walking the three steps it took to reach him. Why does he have to be so damn sensitive? She grabbed the collar of his jacket.
"You're not under the mistletoe anymore," she observed, before kissing him soundly on the mouth. His lips were soft, but she pulled back, looking him right in the eye. He looked nervous almost anxious as if he was just waiting for the other shoe to drop. She smiled at him.
"Merry Christmas, Trevor."
TBC