Slight spoilers for 1x06, ect. I've been loving this series since it began airing, and in commemoration of it getting a section, I had to fic it. And of course, I had to fic it with the pairing I'm seriously hoping for (that sneak peek ruined me, I tell ya). Minor things you have to know: Phrases in italics are Emmett's comments, you'll see as you read. That's about it. Without further ado:

That's the Way We Are

She swears, she doesn't exactly mean to, but she forgets.

She forgets that he can't hear her and she even forgets that the reason he's paying attention to her so intently, practically hanging onto every word dripping from her lips, is because he can't hear her and the only way to understand her is to pay just a little more attention, make a bit more of an effort to concentrate on things like gestures and eye contact. It should be daunting, but it isn't. He has these finite blue-green eyes that she doesn't have to worry about staring at her boobs, or her ass, and they're so intent and omniscient and it's kind of amazing to talk, or not talk, to him.

Buckner Hall, notably, has one of the finest libraries in the tri-city area. So, Bay walks in one day and somehow steps into the language section. She skims through the basics –French, German, Mandarin Chinese. And then finally finds ASL: The Body of Language. And she never would've thought that the words Body and Language belonged next to each other, but she's already slightly intrigued. She opens it and finds the first word she's looking for, Art. And it shows a picture of a woman holding one hand up and diagonal to her other hand, which makes a squiggly type pattern from the top to the bottom of the hand. So she tries it a few times and it's easy enough. She doesn't want to look too weird randomly practicing this in the stacks of the library so she heads to the checkout counter and smiles when the librarian stamps a due date in the back cover.

She finds him waiting outside on the promenade, looking up at a window this time. Before she interrupts him, she follows his line of vision and in the window, the sky has made a pattern of the clouds and the shape of the clouds reflected in the window are in the shape of a saint. It's beautiful and she's sure she wouldn't have noticed it before. She walks up, supporting her tote bag over her shoulder and smiles as she stands by his side.

"So, I have a question for you," Bay begins with a touch on his triceps. "Why photography?" She signs as if she's taking a picture and Emmett smiles.

He begins to sign with a smirk, but from his lips he mouths Because I suck at drawing. His eyes alight as he pretends to draw sloppily on an invisible canvas.

Bay laughs and shakes her head, "That's it? No other defining reason?"

Emmett seems to take his time to think his answer through before signing. It's capturing one moment in time that won't ever happen again. And then I get to manipulate it as the photo develops. Bay nods, keeping her focus intently on his lips. Sometimes she feels like a pervert because her focus is entirely on them, but really, she can't help it. It's not her fault she has to look at them, and it's not her fault that she doesn't necessarily mind. Okay, maybe that last part is, but…

I get to see something no one else gets to see and I can keep it with me, to me that's special.

He then takes out his camera, bright red and ready. Adjusts the scope, holds it up to his eyes, all the while as Bay stares incredulously. It's art and pure creation and she has to admit that not only was he right, but that she was jealous. Occasionally, she'll take pictures of whatever tags she had done closer to the inner city, but it's only a shadow of what she had actually accomplished. He gets to keep his in its purest form, or at least as close to pure as possible. And yeah, she's kinda jealous.

Emmett brushes a stray curl behind Bay's ear against the late afternoon breeze, traces his thumb against her pink bottom lip until her lips part like petals and snaps the shot.

It's a different way of communicating.

Because most of the time, Bay can be sarcastic and cutting with a flair for the overdramatics, and it's not like she can't do that with Emmett, but she doesn't really want to either. She has to work with touching, and movement, and focus. She can't just spout out and go off on a tangent if he can't see her and in a way that kind of scares her because he sees her entirely too well.

In another life, he probably would've been her best friend, her best friend whose eyes light up when she says hi to him and takes pictures of sights and scenery that only last for a moment before the moment's gone. Except he already does that, sans the best friend title. And it's not as if she's been exactly fortunate in that department.

"I'm not really good at making friends," Bay shakes her head. "At least real ones. I had Liam," She grins when his face screws up at the name. "What, you don't like Liam?"

Emmett shrugs. And then, I didn't like the way he Daphne think she wasn't enough. He looks at her meaningfully and signs, And I don't like the way he made you think you were too much.

"You don't think I'm too much?" Bay asks incredulously. It's not like she doesn't know what people that actually matter to her think of her, at least most of the time. She can be over the top and seemingly unforgiving and ironic and, yeah, she's herself and she refuses to apologize for it.

I think you're enough.

And that brings a smile to her face so wide her cheeks start to sting.

She's heads to the kitchen later that night for her vice –chocolate mousse, okay- and Daphne's in there with an apron, scrunched up brows, and some white powder on her cheek.

"Hey," Bay greets softly, but Daphne's focus is on the mixing bowl in front of her and dammit, she's done it again. She's forgotten, and it's so easy to, but she won't do it again. She's vowing internally that she won't do it again.

Bay takes a big whiff as she enters and she's not going to lie, it smells amazing. She's had a taste of almost everything, at least once, but the aroma of rising yeast and dough still makes her all warm inside. That, and chocolate, but that's another type of love affair completely.

She tiptoes quietly from behind and taps Daphne on her right shoulder even though she situates herself on her left side. She giggles when Daphne looks to her right and grins when she slightly jumps at the sight of her on her left. Daphne frowns with a slight pout, reddish blonde strands in her face. "That's not funny," She scolds, hands still kneading the dough before her carefully.

"Not even a little?" Bay asks with a cute pout of her own.

"Not even at all," Daphne grouses out. Bay brushes back the loose strands behind her ear and Daphne gives her a grateful, if not strained, smile. "Thanks," She says with a lisp. "I'm sorry, it's not that I didn't even sense someone was behind me, it's just…"

"Just that what?" Bay asks when Daphne doesn't continue. Daphne blinked, though, so Bay tries signing with a shaking motion in her risen arms.

"I almost stepped out into oncoming traffic at school, okay? Please, please, don't say anything." Daphne requests desperately. Bay's jaw slacks.

"Daphne, that's dangerous, I thought you had an interpreter?" Bay asks, and Daphne rolls her eyes.

"You mean, a stalker that's paid to watch my every move and interpret every word anyone may say to me at all times?" Daphne's green eyes narrow detrimentally. "Thanks, but no thanks."

Bay sighs, but in a sense, she gets it. She, as an artist, wants her privacy to just do and be and deaf or not, everyone should be entitled to that choice, but. "It's still not safe. I mean, I know I may a huge deal about it before, and I'm sorry, but we can get the school to let us attend the same classes."

Daphne immediately shakes her head at that idea, heading over to the oven to take out her sticky buns. They're fluffy and golden brown and, "Can I have one?" Bay asks with a smile. Daphne rips one apart and Bay forgets about chocolate for the one moment it takes to bite into the freshly baked bread. "Daphne?"

"Yeah?" The redhead asks with an accomplished smile.

Bay looks at her seriously. "Where have these been all my life?"

Daphne's smile grows wider; "Mom's recipe."

Bay's eyes grow just as wide, "No kidding?" The history of the life and times of Regina Vasquez just builds and builds. It's like Bay makes one perception of her, and all of a sudden it changes with one comment, one word. Mother, artist, alcoholic. Those words barely scratch the surface.

"Yeah," Daphne says very clipped, very breathy. "Um, well, actually she learned it from my dad." She reveals, causing Bay to look down into the piece of bread she has in her hand. "Well, your dad," She corrects quickly. Her light green eyes seem to have a grey cloud over them before their ordinarily sunny light returns to them in a blink of the eye.

"Still don't want to talk to me about him?" Bay plucks a piece of bread away from the larger portion in her hand and pops it into her mouth.

Daphne shakes her head, untying her apron from the back. "There's nothing to say, Bay." She walks out of the kitchen, leaving Bay in her wake, and yes, Bay thinks. There are many things that need to be said.

So, he's come to Buckner Hall enough times for her to know when he'll be there. She times it perfectly; gets out of class a few minutes earlier due to an emergency –"Another emergency, Ms. Kennish?" Her Philosophy professor sighs resignedly, writing out a pass as his glasses hang crookedly on the tip of his nose.

Bay, knowing all the right moves, nods breathlessly with wide eyes, "One of the utmost importance."

He rips out the slip and dismisses her with a flit of his hand. And this is why her parents pay 30,000 dollars a year.

She heads to the front of the school and Emmett has just driven up, as he's taking off his helmet, and she's been with a guy of almost every type, but damn, none toting leather on a steel steed. Or coppery hair, or blue-green butterfly eyes.

And wait, where did that train of thought come from?

Bay heads down the steps, shaking her head clear of those thoughts and focuses on the one thing she really wants, what she needs. "Hey," She greets him out of breath when she approaches him, and his eyes light up as usual with a wave of his hand. "Would you be willing to help me out with something?"

Emmett studies her face closely, and then finally nods his consent.

She spreads her hand out wide and taps the tip of her thumb against her forehead. "My father. I want to find him."

His lips quirk into a smile and soundlessly, he hands her a helmet, a smaller one. Bay looks at it as if his hand started talking for him. And then she smiles at the prospect, at the thrill. "Really?"

He gives her an acknowledging nod, and then taps the back of his seat. He puts his own helmet back on, and yes, he must be very, very serious about this. He's always surprising her and not that her life nowadays has been monotonous, but he is kinda keeping things exciting, definitely exciting enough for her tastes. Her mother would kill her if she knew she was riding on the back of a motorcycle.

She straps on the helmet and straddles the bike, wrapping her arms around his waist and never mind that she's in a mini skirt and her school uniform, she totally loves this. Emmett looks back at her and even though all she can see are his eyes –confident and amused- she knows he must be smiling as widely as she is right now. He twists the handlebars, revving the bike into life and she can feel the power underneath her and they haven't even moved yet. He nods, and she nods back, and she's slightly breathless when they take off, leaving the polished corridors of Buckner Hall behind.

Continue? Yes, no, maybe?

DAC