Glee 1. Taste of Blood

**Disclaimer: **No one you recognize is mine. I promise to put everybody back neatly when I'm finished playing.

**A/N: **This series was inspired by SSJL's "Scenes from a Hat: The First Time" (I use this concept with her permission and I highly recommend you go read her story if you watch Bones). SSJL borrowed the original idea from _Who's Line is it Anyway_ and I think it's an awesome way to get me out of my writing box. Here are the rules:

Each chapter is a standalone one-shot about Will and Emma's first time.

The content of each one-shot will be chosen completely at random including POV, genre and prompt (prompts mostly from livejournal's 100_prompts community table 30-A…they seem pretty inactive so hopefully they don't mind me borrowing a table).

POVs: 1st person – Will or Emma, 2nd person – Will or Emma, 3rd person – omniscient

Genres: drama, angst, romance, humour, hurt/comfort, friendship

Prompts: aloof, cry, puppy love, funeral, superstition, lost, strawberries, evidence, weapon, beach, shame, taxi, blood, shatter, clean, tease, storm, gloves, muse, magic, secret, search, blackboard, fantasy, test.

Simple, right? Each prompt will be used once and then discarded (for those of you keeping score at home that's 25 one-shots) with the POVs and genres returned to their respective hats for the next story (and yes there are LITERAL hats that I shall be drawing from).

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><p><strong>First person (Will), Angst, Blood -<br>**

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><p>I can't help wanting you, and it's driving me goddamn crazy. The way you smile when you think no one's looking, how you hide your face with your hair when you're embarrassed. Everything about you makes me want you and I'm beginning to hate you for it.<p>

Part of me was satisfied with substitutes for a while. Uncomplicated women without your baggage let me pretend I could be happy without you. Then you'd do something so damned adorable it was like you were inside my head to find exactly how to draw me back and my pathetic, superficial relationship would disintegrate as I fixated on you once again. When Holly left she told me she felt sorry for me and I had to ask her why. She told me I'd never be happy without you. I think she saw in my eyes that I hoped I could still get you and claim you for my own. She told me I'd never be happy with you either.

You're an addiction for me. Now that I have you, can kiss you and hold you, you'd think it would be better, easier. It's not. I want simplicity but I also want you and I cannot have both of those things. You are my drug but you are so damn complicated.

I was surprised earlier, when you were so bold as to slide your hands under my shirt when we kissed goodnight, and I took it as an invitation. Each time I think you're ready, that you truly want me, you freeze, your body going stiff in my arms and pulling away. It gets harder for me every time you pull away and I sometimes wonder if there will come a time that this all becomes too much for me.

That beautiful crimson blush stains your cheeks and the tears glisten at the corners of your eyes as they wait to fall and you flee to the bathroom. I can hear your sobs over the sound of the shower you turned on to hide them and it disgusts me that I have to talk myself into getting out of bed to go to you. I should want to comfort you; this should not be a chore.

I'm surprised to find you left the bathroom door unlocked, you're usually so careful. The room is already filling with steam and I can only barely make out your shape behind the shower curtain.

"Emma?"

I do my best to sound warm and soothing; it saddens me that it requires any effort at all. I used to comfort you in reflex I think, the smallest sign of pain in your pretty hazel eyes had me falling over myself to make it better. To my utter disbelief you pull the curtain back, standing before me in all your naked glory. It takes everything I have not to look you up and down like some pathetic sap at a strip joint.

I wrack my brain looking for something to say, anything, because the silence is stretching on far too long. I stare into your eyes and try and see what you're thinking, what has made you so bold tonight, but there's nothing there. I can't see a thing in those expressive eyes of yours but before I can begin to worry, to wonder what has drawn the light from your eyes, you beckon to me. Just a crook of a finger, so subtle I'd have missed it if I wasn't as hyperaware of you as I am, and I am in the shower with you.

Much of what is happening seems a blur to me even in real time. Your hands are bolder than they've been before, exploring my body with none of the trepidation you so often hold. This I know is an invitation and I begin touching you back, your previous reactions keeping me tentative and guarded. I wait for you to freeze. Instead you push my hands lower, showing me what you want.

You're tiny, so tiny, and I need to pick you up if this has any hope of working here. Trapped between my body and the wall I see a glimmer of that old fear in your eyes and I hate myself as I ignore it. Pushing into you is like heaven and I don't ever want to stop. I'm lost in you and I want to stay that way but I can feel the end drawing near and my only hope is that this is not a one-time offer. You stiffen as I spill into you and I know it is too much for you to handle so I quickly pull away, setting you down.

The blood that drips down your thighs mesmerizes me as it mixes with the water in the tub creating artistic whorls of colour before disappearing down the drain.

"I'm sorry Em," I try but you just shake your head and push me out.

It takes you a lot less time to shower than I thought it would and before what we've done can really sink in, you're in bed beside me.

"I love you Emma," I say to your back, wanting you to turn and face me again. I get my wish and suddenly change my mind when I see the tears and the pain.

"Will you stay with me now?" You ask me and my heart shatters. My frustration has been leaking through and you've seen it. Now you've given me everything I thought I wanted in an effort to keep me in your bed and I wish I'd never wanted it at all.

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><p><strong>Up next:<strong> Lost, humour, 1st person - Emma


	2. Lost in this Moment

**Disclaimer: **See chapter 1

**A/N: ** I've never written humour before so please bear with me, I hope this turns out okay!

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><p><strong>Lost, Humour, 1<strong>**st**** person (Emma)**

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><p>I have never considered Will a "man's man" kind of guy. I mean come on, he sings, he dances, he cries; he's not really a manly man but I love that about him. I'm beginning to see him as a bit more of a typical guy today though, because we have been driving around what I think is Kentucky for an hour and a half and I'm pretty sure the GPS is leading us in circles. We are so lost.<p>

"Maybe we should stop," I say as we pass a Shell station. I'm positive we've passed it once already forty minutes ago; I remember the burnt out "S" that made it "Hell" gasoline.

"No it's fine Em, I know where we're going," Will tells me and I stifle a sigh as I try and find a more comfortable position. This was supposed to be a romantic weekend away, with dinner, a walk through the arboretum and a couple nights in a cute little bed and breakfast. I glance at the time to see we have missed our dinner reservations by an hour, there is no way they'll take us now, and the sun is setting which means the arboretum will be closed long before we ever find it.

"Look Will," I begin.

"Damn it!" Will curses, startling me. I look over at him, my eyes widening in surprise, waiting for him to continue. "This is our first weekend away. It was supposed to be perfect."

Ah, I get it now. Not an auspicious start to our first getaway as a couple.

"It doesn't matter Will. We can still have a wonderful time together!" I tell him, trying to salvage our evening. "Why don't we go to the bed and breakfast and ask where they'd recommend for dinner?"

Will still looks unhappy but thankfully, he agrees to my plan. Reprogramming the GPS takes Will only a few moments and in less than five minutes we've found the bed and breakfast. I take a moment after getting out of the car to stretch, it was a long drive even without factoring in all the time we'd spent driving in circles.

Ever the gentleman, Will opens the door to the bed and breakfast for me and ushers me through with a hand on the small of my back. I suppress a shiver, like always, at his touch and resist the urge to press my body back against his. A woman who I can only assume runs the bed and breakfast looks up, startled, as we enter.

"Hello, I'm Dianne, can I help you?" the look on her face and the tone of her voice worries me. Something tells me she wasn't expecting us.

"Yes, my name is Will Shuester and we have reservations for the weekend."

"Oh dear," the woman looks distinctly uncomfortable as she flips through a ledger and I cringe, knowing what is coming next, "I seem to have you booked in for next weekend and I'm afraid we're all filled up for this one."

Will's body tenses behind me and I speak up before he can have another meltdown, "Oh that's so unfortunate, this is such an adorable place! You wouldn't happen to have any recommendations for us would you?"

Dianne is overly helpful, cancelling our reservation for next weekend and giving us directions to a big name hotel a few blocks away, trying to make up for the confusion. I take Will's hand and tug him out the door behind me wondering if anything else could possibly go wrong this weekend.

The hotel is simple to find and they have plenty of rooms available for us so we pick one and a bellhop who appears seemingly out of thin air takes our bags, leading the way to the elevators. The bellhop chatters about Lexington and its highlights as we wait for the elevator and I make an attempt to keep up my end of the conversation as Will stands moodily off to the side. Once we reach our room Will recovers himself enough to tip the bellhop and send him on his way before sinking back into his self-pity.

The room is pretty, a little generic but then, what hotel room isn't, and the view is amazing. My stomach growls quietly to remind me that it is almost eight o'clock and I haven't eaten since noon. After kicking off my heels and placing them neatly by the door I make my way to the bedside table where I've spied a room service menu. Will disappears into the bathroom and I hear the shower start.

I pick a few random items from the menu that I'm interested in and a couple I think Will might like. As an afterthought I ask for strawberries and two bottles of champagne, after all this _is _supposed to be a romantic weekend.

The food arrives just as Will turns off the shower, some of our best timing of the day so far. I nearly jump out of my skin as Will wraps his arms around me from behind. He is wearing nothing but a towel and still smells of soap. I have to close my eyes to regain some semblance of focus.

"I'm sorry I've been such a baby about this Em. I just really wanted everything to be perfect." I consider turning in his arms like all the girls do in the movies but I'm too afraid to move.

"It's okay Will, I get it. We can still make this trip special though. Why don't we have something to eat?" I'm glad he's gotten out of that self-indulgent moroseness. Self-pitying Will Shuester is not a fun person to be around. Will lets me go and I sigh at the loss of contact, taking a moment to clear my head while he dresses.

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><p>It's after midnight and one bottle of champagne is lying discarded on the table by the window, the second bottle is half empty on the bedside table next to Will. I haven't had this much to drink in years and the bubbles seem to have gone straight to my head making everything a little fuzzy around the edges. We had been watching a movie but both Will and I lost interest about halfway through so now we were lying tangled on the bed and talking.<p>

"I've always wanted to do a striptease," Will blurts out suddenly and I very nearly choke on my mouthful of champagne. Once I've stopped coughing I ask,

"What?" Eloquent, I know, I blame the champagne.

"For you, I mean," Will is slurring his words ever so slightly so I guess I'm not the only one who's a little drunk. "I just think…I think if you see my body…"

I can feel the blush racing down my neck and spreading across my chest, I cannot believe he's saying this.

"I think you'd wanna touch me some more…you know?"

Will is looking at me expectantly but I can do nothing but stare at him dumbstruck. I am having trouble processing what he's just told me and frankly, the champagne is only partly to blame. I sit, my mouth opening and closing like a fish, searching for the right words and then it happens. _Moves Like Jagger_ starts up, blaring rather loudly from the television and Will is on his feet, already moving in time with the music. I blush harder than I thought possible as his hands move to the buttons on his shirt, slowly undoing each one. It's like watching a car accident; I want to look away but I just can't make myself do it. Will's shirt hits me in the face as he tosses it away, pulling me a little bit out of my daze and I giggle. I can't believe this is happening.

I don't think I do it consciously but somehow there's a one dollar bill in my hand now that Will's pants are around his ankles. I stare down at the bill, unsure how it got into my hand and even more unsure what to do with it now that it's there. Will, seeing my confusion, starts to move towards me, forgetting his pants are still around his ankles and it only takes a few steps before the pants trip him up and he pitches forwards onto the bed. He rolls over, roaring with laughter and before I know it I've shoved the bill into his boxers, which only makes him laugh harder. I can't help myself and soon I'm laughing as hard as Will is, with tears of mirth running down my cheeks.

Will's kiss surprises me and I tense briefly, the change in mood was abrupt but not altogether unpleasant. I surprise myself by allowing Will to unbutton my blouse and slide it off my shoulders, not even thinking about the fact that he's the only man to have ever seen me topless. His hands dance along the edge of my bra and he asks,

"Is this okay?"

Breathless and speechless I can do nothing but nod. I feel the pressure release as Will unhooks the catch and slips the bra down my arms. Nothing like being naked in front of someone for the very first time to sober you up, I find the fuzzy edges sharpening again. I am mesmerized as Will's hand approaches my bare skin, his hand looks so much darker than the milky white of my abdomen.

There must be some champagne left in my system because as Will attempts to untangle the pants from his ankles he rolls right off the bed and I burst into laughter again. His head pops up over the edge of the bed once he's freed himself of his jeans and he has my skirt undone and halfway down my legs before I even realize what he's doing.

Finally we are down to that last barrier: underwear. I am lost in his eyes as his fingers work their way inside my panties, sliding them down my legs and leaving me completely bare beneath his hands. Will takes the time to explore my body with his hands and mouth, bringing me to my first orgasm within minutes, my second following quick on its heels.

"I need more," I tell him, even though I'm not entirely sure what I mean by that. But Will knows; he strips away his boxers and he gives me more.

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><p>The sun is high when I finally wake up the following morning, a little stiff and sore but very content (and very naked) in bed with Will. Gently, I ease myself out of bed in search of a hot shower, some water and something for the headache I can feel settling in behind my eyes. Something flutters to the floor as I stand and I stoop to pick it up. My snort of laughter wakes Will and I throw the dollar bill on his chest before heading to the bathroom. I can still hear him laughing as I step under the steaming spray.<p>

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><p><strong>AN:** Damn humour is hard to write! I hope you all enjoyed it! Thanks to everyone for the reviews thus far. Fanfiction writers don't get paid and we don't get to see our work on the big (or little) screen so we really truly appreciated the comments and feedback we get on our work.

**Up next: **Puppy love, drama, 2nd person (Emma)…oh boy…


	3. And They Called it Puppy Love

**Disclaimer: **See chapter 1

**A/N: **Another first (well two actually), I've never written drama and I've never written in second person. This little experiment seems to be getting me out of my safety zone pretty damn quickly. Thanks again for the wonderful reviews, I appreciate each and every one of you who takes the time! Enjoy!

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><p><strong>Puppy love, drama, 2nd person (Emma)<strong>

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><p>It started out like any other day, you made Will's lunch and he made yours and then you headed off to school together. It had surprised you in the beginning, how easily you'd fallen into a routine together. With Carl things had always been strained and difficult, and you'd never really felt comfortable in his house. You wonder if the fact that you refused to sublet your place, even after you got married and moved into his, had something to do with it. You had given up your apartment in a heartbeat when Will had asked you to move in, not even taking a moment to think about the gravity of the step you were taking. It was unlike you to be so impulsive but things had worked out well so far.<p>

"Em?" Will's voice breaks into your reverie and you realize not only are you parked in the staff lot at McKinley, Will is standing next to your open car door. You blush, wondering how long you've been sitting here like a fool. "Is everything okay Emma?" Will asks you, sounding so sweet and concerned as always.

"I'm fine," you tell him unbuckling your seatbelt and turning to dazzle him with a bright smile. You walk hand in hand to the door where you have to separate, you to your office and Will to his first period Spanish class.

You unlock your office door and put your coat away neatly on the rack by the door and then you putter around the office, straightening and tidying things that don't need straightening or tidying while you wait for your first appointment.

The period seems to drag on, you know Will has a spare next period and you always hope he'll stop in to see you, so you purposely booked only two appointments for the morning so you'd be free when he was. The bell rings and you let out a breath you didn't realize you'd been holding.

And then you hear the screams.

At first you think it might just be some kids messing around in the hall between classes but there is an edge of absolute terror in the scream and the word passes like wildfire up the hall,

"Gun!"

Students run for cover into the nearest classrooms and up and down the hall doors slam and lock, paper going up over the windows. This is not a lockdown drill. You realize Figgins is on the PA system calling for a lockdown and you shake yourself into action, locking your door and trying to get paper up over the unfortunately extensive windows in your office.

The pounding on your door starts just as you tape the last piece of brown paper into place and it causes you to scream in panic.

"Emma, it's me!" you hear Will's frantic voice outside your door, "Let me in!"

Quickly you flip the lock open and Will rushes inside, nearly knocking you over in his haste. As he turns to shut the door, the silver barrel of a gun slips through. Will tries to force the door shut but it's no use, the person on the other side is intent on getting in, a steel toed boot preventing the door from closing. Will steps in front of you as the door swings all the way open revealing a student you vaguely recognize staring daggers in your direction. The kid is dressed in jeans and a Hollister hoodie which surprises you, you had expected black and leather.

"Move," he orders Will but Will holds his ground.

"Look, no one needs to get hurt," Will says, his hands in front of him, palms forward and trying to be as non-threatening as possible.

"Move or I'll move you," there is no inflection in the kid's voice and his eyes are devoid of emotion. You are trembling all over, you can't believe this is happening in Lima. The kid, _Morgan Findlay _your brain supplies, raises the gun to chest level, aiming directly at Will. You can't look anywhere but down the barrel of the gun. Your father collects handguns and you recognize this one and know it has pretty substantial recoil. You wonder if Morgan has ever fired it before.

"You said it was puppy love," Morgan says, his eyes focused on you but the gun never wavering from Will. "You said I couldn't possibly be truly in love with someone fifteen years older than me. That every high school boy gets a crush on his teacher."

Your session with Morgan a month and a half ago comes flooding back to your mind. He'd professed his undying love for Shelby Corcoran and you had tried to make him see that he couldn't possibly have her.

"She slept with Noah Puckerman you know," Morgan says almost offhandedly and your eyes widen in shock. "No one is supposed to know but I do. I was watching her. He stayed the night and everything. I could have had her and you made me lose her!" His voice is rising and he's getting angrier, you wrack your brain trying to think of something, anything that will calm him down but it's too late.

You see the flash of the muzzle and your scream echoes through the office with the crack of the gun as Will's body spins towards you, bright red blossoming near his right shoulder. Will is falling and you do your best to break his fall, screaming his name as tears pour down your face. A second gunshot makes your head snap up and you see Morgan falling to the floor, blood blooming between his shoulder blades as SWAT officers pour through the door.

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><p>Everything between the shooting and the hospital is a blur. You remember snippets of time; your hands putting pressure on Will's wound, the paramedics pulling you away and trying to asses if you've been injured, the way your yellow blouse clings to you, wet and sticky with Will's blood, the deafening roar of the sirens as you sit in the back of the ambulance racing code four to the hospital and Will's lips forming the words "Love you," before his eyes slip shut.<p>

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><p>It is a little more than a week before Will is discharged home, his right arm bound up in a sling while the bones that had been shattered by the bullet heal. The doctors are hopeful he will regain full movement of his arm after some physiotherapy. The damage hadn't been nearly as severe as you had thought, sitting on the floor of your office getting covered in Will's blood, just some broken bones and torn muscle.<p>

The last four days at home have gone surprisingly well and you like feeling useful again. In the hospital the nurses had come and gone, quickly doing their work and offering you simple comforts like a blanket or cup of coffee but what you really wanted was to do something to make this better.

Will is already in bed, still easily tired after the trauma, so you are scrubbing the kitchen before you retire for the night. With a final swipe of a bleach soaked rag you proclaim the kitchen clean and decide to head to bed, it will be your first day back at McKinley tomorrow and you know it's going to take you hours to fall asleep.

As you enter the bedroom Will lets out a groan of frustration and you cock an eyebrow at him in question, "Is something wrong Will?"

"No, it's nothing," he tells you but you know he's lying.

"Will I can't help you if you won't tell me what's wrong," you try, feeling the need to make up for being part of the reason he'd been shot. Guilt is a great motivator.

"Fine Emma, you want to know?" Will asks a little angrily as he rips the blankets away from his body, "THIS is my problem."

Your eyes fixate on the very prominent erection you can see straining against Will's boxers. It clicks in your head that Will is right handed and, while sexual pleasure was not something you often think about, you know Will does. You have heard him before, in the shower, groaning your name softly when he thinks you're out of earshot and you realize what he needs.

"I can help," you hear yourself say and the shock of the words coming out of your mouth stops you short of the bed.

"No Emma. I don't want you doing this out of some sort of obligation. Our first time is supposed to be special and intimate. I don't want it to be like this," he says and you find your feet have carried you to the bed and you're climbing in beside him.

"It's not obligation Will," you whisper, "We've been together for months and I want to go further than kissing and over-the-clothes touching. I'm not a child."

"I know that Em. It's just, why now? Is it because you feel guilty?" You look up with a start, you hadn't realized he'd noticed the guilt. "I don't want you to feel guilty Emma; nothing that happened was your fault."

"Then let me help you Will," you say, kneeling beside him and letting your hands stray to the waistband of his boxers. You take a moment to wonder what has made you so courageous tonight but decide it's best not to think too hard about it as Will lets you slide his boxers down his legs. You can't suppress the blush that flushes across your cheeks and down your neck as you take in the sight of an erect penis for the first time in your thirty-two years. You reach out tentatively and grasp him in your hand, jumping as Will hisses his approval. Experimentally, you move your hand, not entirely sure what you're supposed to be doing. Will's hips rock up to meet your hand so you know you're doing something right and you tighten your grip a little as you continue to stroke his length.

"Oh my God Emma," Will breathes, his head thrown back, eyes shut and you smile. It takes you a moment to convince yourself to do it but while his eyes are still closed you wrap your lips around him and wait for a reaction. You aren't disappointed. Will's eyes fly open and he cries out; his good hand coming to cradle the back of your head, tangling in your hair. Carefully, you slide your mouth lower, finding that this act isn't nearly as frightening as you'd thought it would be. You have been at it only five minutes, still figuring out what you are doing, when Will says in a strangled voice,

"Em. Stop."

You look up at him, wondering what you've done wrong and he must see it in your eyes because he says,

"I'm almost there, I wasn't sure you'd want it in your mouth the first time." That was Will, constantly concerned about you. But he is right, you aren't ready for that level of icky yet so you go back to using your hand. Will's breathing becomes erratic and his hips are thrusting hard against your hand so you assume he's very close. You watch, fascinated, as he climaxes. You release him and pull a pair of latex gloves from the bedside table before cleaning him up.

"I love you," you tell him, your eyes filling with tears.

"I love you too Em," he says and you snuggle into his side for your first restful night's sleep in weeks.

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><p><strong>AN: **Obviously I'm going to be pretty liberal with my definition of sex for this little experiment because I think 25 chapters of plain, boring, vanilla sex will get, well, boring. Hope you enjoyed the drama!

**Up next: "**test", romance, 3rd person omniscient


	4. Testing 1, 2, 3

**Disclaimer: ** you know the drill

**A/N: **Well the hats have proclaimed it's time for me to return to my old stomping grounds: romance written in the third person, and who am I to defy the hats? Once again I thank you all for the lovely reviews, it always makes my day to open my email and see a review alert waiting for me. FYI these one shots are temporally challenged (that is, they may be considered A/U based on events I include or ignore) so yeah…just so you know =)

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><p><strong>Test, romance, third person omniscient<strong>

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><p>Will was sitting at his desk overseeing the midterm test for his freshman Spanish class and doing his best not to fall asleep; test days were always so dull. He'd wandered around the room a few times already, just to keep an eye on everything and some of the answers he'd skimmed as he passed made him cringe; it was as if the kids paid no attention when he spoke. Will sighed and checked his watch, only ten minutes to the end of the day.<p>

"Ten minutes everyone!" he warned, and there was the requisite flurry of papers shuffling and pens scribbling as the students hastened to write something, anything, down on their test papers before they ran out of time. Will prowled the classroom one more time, and by the time he'd finished his circuit, the bell was ringing. He returned to his desk and sat, just as thirty test papers began their unwieldy descent onto his desk.

"A pile would be nice guys," Will mumbled, more to himself than the students as the stragglers filed out of the classroom. Will sighed and began to neaten the papers into a single stack before shoving them into his briefcase. When he looked up from his task, Emma was standing at the door, leaning a shoulder on the doorframe, arms crossed with a small smile on her lips.

"Ready to go?" Emma asked, pushing herself off the doorframe and walking over to perch delicately on the edge of Will's desk as he rubbed the chalkboard clean. Will brushed his hands off and held them open to Emma, waiting for the squirt of hand sanitizer he knew she'd be waiting with. Emma obliged, and then Will took her left hand in his, twisting the two bands in place on her ring finger before brushing a kiss along her knuckles. Emma blushed and stood from the desk, cursing herself that she still blushed so easily with her now husband's easy displays of affection.

"Ready," he told her, anxious to get home. They had been married three months now, and each week Will had been introducing a novel piece of intimacy into their relationship. Each little gesture got a one week test-run, which seemed the perfect amount of time for Emma to grow comfortable with it, before Will moved it up a notch. Each Friday meant something new and exciting but Will was rapidly running out of ideas. The furthest they'd gotten so far was cuddling in the pitch dark of the bedroom wearing nothing but underwear. Will had considered a simple next step, just adding a little bit of light so they could actually see each other, but had decided that wasn't enough. What was enough, he still wasn't entirely sure.

A few weeks after the wedding Emma had come home late from SAT prep, a Victoria's Secret bag clutched nervously to her abdomen and Will had spent the last month and a half fantasizing about what was in that bag. He saw the tissue wrapped lingerie in Emma's dresser each time she collected her undergarments before going to shower but he had yet to see what was hidden inside that pink tissue. He'd been contemplating peeking for the last week but reasoned with himself that Emma would let him see in good time, and he realized he'd probably appreciate it more if whatever it was remained a surprise.

Emma was still trying to get up the courage to actually unwrap the package and try everything on, let alone show it to Will. The purchase had been at the recommendation of Dr. Shane who thought that perhaps if Emma could learn to see herself in a more sensual way, she would find it easier to display affection and be intimate with Will. So far, no luck. Emma was not good at the whole visualizing thing Dr. Shane was trying, and having the props at her fingertips hadn't changed that.

Emma was beginning to worry that Will was going to become frustrated with her lack of progress in the intimacy department and, while she knew he'd never leave like Carl had, she wanted to start making bigger improvements for herself. Naively Emma had hoped that having the wedding band around her finger would make it easier to take that final step in her relationship with Will, regardless of the fact that such a ring had had no such significance the first time she'd tried it. So they remained at an impasse until Emma found some courage or until Will's experiment came to it's inevitable conclusion.

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><p>As Emma showered to prepare for bed, Will moved around the bedroom, placing candles on every available surface and lighting them as he went. The drive home had done nothing to inspire his sense of carnal whimsy so after dinner Will had fallen back on Plan B – a little lighting for their evening cuddle.<p>

Emma gasped when she exited the bathroom, clutching her robe a little tighter as she took in the sight before her. The room was bathed in the muted, flickering glow of what she estimated to be more than fifty candles, and Will was doing his best to look totally innocent in bed beneath the covers waiting for her.

"Um, Will?" Emma said, "What's with the candles?"

"Nothing really," he lied, fascinated by the shimmer of her copper hair in the candlelight. "Come to bed."

Emma swallowed hard, and moved slowly to the bedside. Almost hesitantly, she pulled on the tie at the waist of her robe, before allowing the robe to fall to the floor. In very un-Emma-like fashion, she left the robe in a heap and dove beneath the covers, causing Will to chuckle. She turned to face him,

"What?" she asked indignantly, a little insulted by the laugh but more embarrassed than anything else.

"You are too cute Emma Schuester," Will told her, enjoying the way her new name rolled of his tongue. Beneath the covers, his hands found her waist, pulling her towards him and settling her against his body. Emma rolled over to smile at him before craning her neck to press her lips to his, willing her body not to tense or tremble as Will's fingers skated along the bare skin of her back. Pulling away, Emma settled her head on Will's chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart and finding herself feeling oddly relaxed. The blankets had slipped down and now barely covered Emma to her waist and it surprised her to realize that she felt comfortable with Will being able to see more of her body.

"You know every now and then I get frustrated and I think I'm not making any progress," Emma said, pushing herself up to look into Will's eyes, "And then I find myself like this, and I realize how far I've come."

"You are certainly not the same woman who once asked me to, and I quote, "Do the nasty," and I'm really proud of you Em."

Emma blushed and buried her head in Will's chest as the memory of running out of Will's apartment barefoot came flooding back. Who would have thought she'd be where she was now?

"I'm really proud of you Emma," Will told her, placing a kiss on the crown of her head. _Baby steps,_ Will reminded himself, "Now let's blow out these candles and go to sleep."

Emma slid nervously from the bed, studiously keeping her back to Will as she gathered her robe from the floor. Will sighed inwardly, and reminded himself that this was just day one of "lights and undies" and he couldn't expect too much, too fast. Then, much to his surprise, Emma straightened up and moved to the closet to hang up the robe. Silently, they moved about the room extinguishing candles. After she doused the final candle, Emma disappeared into the bathroom and returned in her usual pyjamas but not before Will got to appreciate her in nothing but a violet satin bra and panties.

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><p>Saturday found Will marking Spanish tests on the couch as Emma cleaned the apartment from top to bottom around him. It would have been a boring, lazy day if not for one little fact – the pink tissue wrapped package from Emma's drawer had been gone this morning when Will had peeked as she neatly put away her laundry and he hadn't been able to think of anything else since. Hundreds of potentialities ran through his mind as he laboured through the poorly answered Spanish tests but Emma acted no differently than usual as she scrubbed and cleaned.<p>

At seven Will called it quits and asked Emma if she wanted to go out for dinner, biting his tongue to keep from asking about the Victoria's Secret package. Smiling sweetly, with just a hint of something unidentifiable in her eyes, Emma agreed and went to shower and change. Will sat on the couch, staring unseeingly at the television as he daydreamed.

Dinner at Breadstix was, well, dinner at Breadstix. The food was mediocre and the atmosphere left something to be desired but neither Will nor Emma noticed. Though they carried on conversation as usual, Emma and Will were distracted, and both for the very same reason. Will was continuing to imagine what had been in the package and when he was going to get a chance to see it while Emma was just focused on the fact that she'd found the courage to put it on.

Emma was trying very hard to act normal but she could feel her control slipping as she and Will sat curled together on the couch after dinner. Will was bursting with the need to ask, but so scared of frightening Emma away, he was holding out and waiting for her to be ready.

At eleven Will had resigned himself to not finding out what was in the package as they headed down the hallway to the bedroom. Emma had given no indication that anything was out of the ordinary and he was feeling a little deflated and depressed.

Emma, on the other hand, had only just cemented her resolve to try and find the sensual being Dr. Shane insisted Emma harboured somewhere deep (very deep) inside. When they entered the bedroom Will moved to go to the bathroom but Emma stopped him with a hand on his wrist. Will turned to face her, feeling cautiously optimistic once more.

Will could still see the uncertainty in Emma as she leaned in to kiss him but he quickly forgot as her lips slid across his. Will could taste her lipstick, and it's a taste he'd found himself craving. He'd never considered lipstick tasty or erotic until he'd kissed it off of Emma's perfect mouth and he could feel himself growing hard as his mind wandered to imagine her lips pressed in other places. Her hands fisting in his shirt, Emma walked backwards to the bed, guiding Will with her and falling to the bed with a giggle, pulling him down on top of her.

Emma moveed up the bed, manoeuvring Will along with her as though she's done this a thousand times and Will wonders where this confidence is coming from. Settled comfortably into the pillows, Emma attacks Will's mouth again before he gains enough breath or coherence to question her.

Bold and brassy was not generally Emma's style, but damned if she cared tonight. Meek and mild Emma had been checked at the door and it seemed like all that therapy and all those medications were culminating into this one particular moment. She has created this three-ring circus that is her life and their relationship so it is only fair that she be the ringmaster. Emma's tongue seeks entrance to Will's mouth, dancing along his lips, and Will gladly complies.

Sitting up, Emma's hands move to Will's shirt, sliding it over his head so that she can see his chest and she scrapes her nails lightly down the newly exposed skin. Moving back to her comfort zone, Emma leans in to kiss him again, tensing briefly as Will's warm hands slide up her thighs beneath her skirt. He reaches the top of her stockings and pulls away,

"Are you wearing a garter belt?" Will asks incredulously, his eyes widening in surprise. Emma bites her lip and nods as his fingers explore the novelty of thigh high silk stockings. Something deep inside him aches to see her without the skirt so he asks permission with his eyes as his fingers move to the zipper of the skirt. Bravely, Emma nods, her breath coming out in a whoosh as Will slides the skirt down her legs. Will groans. As he expected, the lacy black garter belt holding up sheer stockings is the sexiest thing he's ever seen. Will is so mesmerized by the sight before him, he barely notices when Emma shrugs out of her blouse.

"Thought you might like to see the whole picture," Emma whispers. It's all Will can do not to ravish her right then. Emma remains self-consciously still in the centre of the bed, unsure what to do next.

"Where did all this come from?" Will asks, sliding a finger under the strap of her black satin bra. Emma shrugs,

"Dr. Shane suggested I try some things that might make me feel sexy to help me feel more comfortable with intimacy. It's working," Emma tells him, and waits for the light in Will's eyes as he grasps her meaning.

"Really Em?" Will asks, still so gunshy.

"I'm ready to try," Emma says with all the confidence she can muster.

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><p>Will is slow, patient and gentle, as Emma always expected he would be but he's also hungry and it surprises her how much she likes that side of him. It takes him nearly twenty minutes to get her completely naked and it is only when he slides his jeans and boxers off that Emma starts to tremble.<p>

"Damn it!" Emma curses her body's betrayal, and Will's eyes widen in shock. Rather than fully retreating as he once would have done, Will continues to take things slowly, his hands and mouth exploring Emma's body. The shaking increases in intensity as Will's lips brush up the inside of Emma's thighs but she becomes utterly still when she feels his tongue slide across her in the most intimate way possible. Pulling away Will checks in,

"Okay Em?"

Emma can only nod, her fingers tangling through Will's hair as he lowers his mouth to her again. Emma finds release quickly and is surprised to find her body wanting more. She tugs Will up and into a kiss, hesitating only slightly when she tastes herself on his lips.

"Please Will," she begs, at a loss for more eloquent phrasing. A technicolour kaleidoscope explodes behind her eyelids as Will satisfies her plea. It is over too quickly but they both know that big things will come of this night, and this is only the beginning of their explorations of each other.

"I love you Will."

"I love you too Em," Will says, "Remind me to send Dr. Shane flowers in the morning"

Emma laughs, "Goodnight Mr. Schuester."

"Goodnight Mrs. Schuester."

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><p><strong>AN:** Well that was unexpectedly difficult. I wrote more than 2000 words, scrapped it, and started over and I'm still not entirely happy. Who'd have thought this chapter would be the most difficult so far? Hope you all enjoyed it!

**Up next:** Weapon, friendship, 3rd person (WTF am I going to do with that?)


	5. Gunpowder and Lead

**Disclaimer:** blah, blah, blah

**A/N: **Oh hai! So real life has been keeping me away from this story lately as just wrote my licensing exam to become a registered nurse (fingers crossed I pass) and started orientation/job at a children's hospital. I am eternally grateful for all the reviews and I am truly sorry this chapter took so long!

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><p><strong>Weapon; friendship; third person omniscient<strong>

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><p>"Em you really don't have to do this," Will said for what had to be the twelfth time since she'd arrived at his apartment, bright and early that Saturday morning.<p>

"Will I don't mind," Emma assured him again. She liked spending time with Will, even if that meant stripping the wallpaper from his kitchen and helping him repaint. Will smiled as he looked over at Emma, zipped into a pair of blue coveralls three sizes too big and focused intently on peeling a strip of paper from the wall. Will approached her, quietly and cautiously, and tugged on the back of the jumpsuit,

"You know, I think these might be a little big for you," Will said, smirking. Startled, Emma lost concentration on her task and the piece of wallpaper fell from her gloved fingers as she turned to look at Will. Emma smiled back at Will and pushed the sleeves up on her coveralls as they fell over her hands again. "Here, let me help," Will told her.

Will began to roll the sleeves up her arms so that they were halfway between her wrists and elbows, making it a little easier for her to work.

"Thanks," Emma mumbled, fighting a blush as she turned back to the wallpaper. Things between them had been strained ever since her annulment and Will's breakup with Holly. Neither Will nor Emma was entirely sure where their relationship stood now that they were both newly single. This kitchen repaint was the first time they'd spent any time alone together since they had broken up months before. At school there was always Shannon to play the buffer in the lunchroom, keeping things from becoming too awkward but now, alone in Will's apartment; neither was sure how to act.

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><p><em>The coveralls slid easily down Emma's body as Will unzipped them and pushed them from her shoulders. His hands moved to push the auburn hair from her neck before his lips closed over the pulse he could see bounding beneath her skin. <em>

"_Will," Emma breathed, caught between lust and uncertainty, her fingers moving to the buttons on his shirt without her conscious permission. Emma felt Will's hands grasp the backs of her thighs and before she could consider his next move she found herself planted on the kitchen counter, Will's shirt lying forgotten on the floor._

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><p>Will had spent the last two months since his breakup considering how to best approach renewing his relationship with Emma. Will knew how sensitive she was, how fragile and easily frightened, but he wanted her back so badly there was nothing he wouldn't do, even if it meant spending platonic days redecorating his entire apartment until they were comfortable being alone together again.<p>

Emma had never stopped thinking about Will. The ring on her finger had just been a toy, a stupid, heat-of-the-moment mistake that she had regretted the moment she'd woken in a Vegas hotel room wearing nothing but a frown with a hangover of epic proportions assaulting her senses. Carl had told her later that they hadn't had sex, that she had stripped naked and climbed into bed before passing out. Months later, during the annulment process, Carl had told her she'd called out Will's name in her sleep almost every night since their marriage.

Carl had admitted to cheating on her, to sleeping with three other women during their short marriage. He had said he'd had to look elsewhere when she couldn't satisfy him and Emma had cried. His words had been sharp like knives against her skin, weapons designed to hurt her the way she had hurt him. Carl had taken the marriage seriously, he had loved her and Emma had always loved Will.

Will and Emma needed a push. Something to rekindle their romance and make them each realize the remaining attraction was mutual. Instead they continued to strip paper from the walls.

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><p>"<em>God Emma," Will groaned, still standing between her legs while she sat on his kitchen counter, her fingers sliding over the flesh of his chest and arms as though she was trying to memorize the feel of him. Her shirt had joined his on the floor some time ago leaving her in nothing but a pair of jeans and an ivory lace bra. Emma crossed her ankles behind Will's back and pulled him in closer, leaning down to kiss him again, not entirely sure she was comfortable with where things were headed.<em>

_Will pushed against her, sighing into her neck before he pulled her off the counter and began walking towards the bedroom. Half way down the hall, Emma readjusted her position to keep from sliding down Will's front. The movement made Will groan again and he pushed Emma into the wall, assaulting her with kisses once again._

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><p>It had taken nearly all day but the last of the wallpaper had finally been stripped away and they were leaning on the counter, side-by-side, sipping beer straight from the bottle.<p>

"Thanks for your help Em," Will said, giving her a little nudge with his elbow, "You gonna help me paint too?" he asked jokingly.

"I'd love to!" Emma blurted out, immediately blushing and cursing herself for how desperate she sounded. Will set his beer bottle on the counter and turned to face Emma,

"I've missed you Em," he whispered. Emma's eyes widened in surprise, Will wasn't usually so forward; he usually waited for her to make the first move.

"I-I've missed you too," Emma stuttered. She watched breathlessly as Will lifted the beer bottle from her hand and placed it on the countertop next to his. Will's hand came up to cup her face, brushing his thumb across her cheek, and Emma found herself leaning into his touch. Emma's eyes slipped shut and she let herself savour the feeling of Will's touch, something she had been longing for for months. She jumped slightly, her eyes snapping open as Will's breath whispered across her skin, the barest and most feather-light of kisses sliding along her jaw.

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><p><em>They were naked, the dim light of the moon providing a muted glow by which they explored each other's body. Emma trembled slightly as Will's hand drifted between her legs and she cried out in surprise and pleasure as he explored, his fingers moving with the utmost care. She was powerless to resist him as Will pulled every weapon in his arsenal out to pleasure her. <em>

_Emma felt a burning begin deep within her belly, every movement of Will's fingers fanning the flames and drawing her closer to release. She had tried this once before, with Carl, but she had backed out before he'd even gotten her underwear off. Emma's train of thought derailed as Will slid a finger deep inside her and she cried out, her hips thrusting forward as she climaxed, her whole body in spasms and Will's name falling from her lips like a prayer._

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><p>Emma woke with a start, the sheets tangled around her legs, the taste of sex and Will's name on her tongue. Emma sighed, these dreams had to stop. Tomorrow she would talk to Will. Tomorrow she would sort this out. Tonight, she was sweaty and frustrated so she rolled from her bed, gathered up her sheets and dropped them into the hamper on her way to the shower. Tomorrow she would fix this.<p>

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><p><strong>AN: ** That was mean of me wasn't it? Hope you liked it anyways! Up next – hurt/comfort, first person (Emma), cry. That seems almost too easy!


	6. If You Leave Me Tonight I'll Cry

**A/N: **Welcome back all! In honour of my 25th review for this story, I decided to give you all another chapter a little early. Enjoy!

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><p><strong>First person – Emma, cry, hurtcomfort**

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><p>I really didn't want to let him see me cry but, try as I might to stop them, I can feel the hot tears burning their way down my cheeks as I kneel at the bedside. I haven't prayed in years, and I don't know what made me turn to religion tonight. This is not the first time my parents have driven me to tears with their cruelty but this is the first time since I was twelve years old that I've found myself begging God for answers.<p>

I can feel Will kneeling beside me and his body radiates tension. I flinch when his hand grasps my shoulder and he sighs,

"I'm so sorry Emma," he tells me and I feel more tears begin their journey down my cheeks. Now he knew my deepest, darkest, secret; my parents are hateful, awful people. The little girl inside me still longs to be loved by them unconditionally and the grown-up inside me hates that little girl. I realize that Will is still talking and trying to comfort me but I haven't heard a word, my hands still folded in prayer and my eyes squeezed shut.

"I'm going to have a bath," I whisper, ignoring the fact that I'd only gotten out of the shower a few minutes before. I needed to be alone for a while to cram these little girl insecurities back down into the box I keep hidden deep within myself. Will's hand slips from my shoulder as I rise, turning from the bed without making eye contact and heading for the bathroom. Will calls my name softly as I reach the bathroom but I pretend not to hear as I push the door shut behind me.

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><p>The bedroom is dark when I finally leave the safety and solitude of the bathroom an hour later, my thoughts gathered and my insecurity neatly tucked out of sight. I creep quietly to the bed, not wanting to wake Will and am surprised when I reach the bed to find it still perfectly made, Will nowhere in sight. I consider sliding between the sheets alone and avoiding Will for the night but I can't convince myself to do it so I leave the bedroom in search of him.<p>

Will is sitting on the couch, illuminated by the streetlight shining through the window, with an empty glass on the coffee table in front of him.

"Will?" I whisper, "Are you coming to bed?"

Will turns to look at me and I can tell even in the washed out light that he has been crying too. He motions for me to sit beside him on the couch and reluctantly I do, sinking onto the cushion with a little space between us.

"How can you just pretend everything is normal?" he asks me. The one question I had begged God not to let Will ask and it is the first one out of his mouth. "How can you pretend they didn't say those horrible things to you? How can you forgive me for inviting them here against your wishes and inflicting that on you?"

I can do nothing but shrug. Pretending is something I do best.

"They're my parents," I tell him as though that explains everything. It explains nothing.

"I don't care if they're God, Emma! The things they said, the way they acted! Has it always been like this?"

My throat constricts as my mind offers up images and audio clips from the past, birthdays that passed by unacknowledged but for promises of gifts when I stopped with the cleaning and sanitizing and washing; the teasing and taunts my brother encouraged at school; the near physical pain of being locked in my bedroom and forbidden from bathing for days on end. When ignoring the issue didn't work my parents had tried to bribe me into being normal. Then they'd tried threatening. Finally they had just given up on me, preferring instead to focus on my perfect, normal brother.

I can feel the tears threatening again, a heavy weight in my chest and when Will pulls me into his lap I let them fall. Curled in Will's arms I feel safe, loved and, above all, normal. Will is murmuring nonsensical things into my hair and his hands are warm and strong as they rub my back. This is something I could get used to. The phone rings but neither of us moves to answer it. I realize my mistake the moment my mother's voice floods through the room.

"_Hi freaky-deaky!" _I stiffen in Will's arms but I can't make myself move to shut off the machine. _"That boy seems nice enough, probably too good for you. This is why we were always trying to get you to be normal when you were little! If you were normal, you could probably marry that guy! Instead, he'll probably just get fed up and leave soon."_

The strangled sob startles me as it makes its way out of my throat and I try to block out the sound of my mother's voice. Will slides out from beneath me and rips the answering machine from the wall. I sit on the couch, eyes wide, watching him; too stunned to be upset anymore.

"Emma," Will says to me after slamming the answering machine back onto the table, "Emma I'm not going to leave you."

That statement is too much and I start crying again because I will always wonder if she is right. If one day my issues will be too much for Will to handle and he will leave no matter what he tells me now. I hate being a weak, vulnerable child again, which is always how I feel after my parents leave, but no amount of rationality will make me believe that what my mother had said was an impossibility. Will might leave. I might always be a freak.

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><p>It might have been minutes or it might have been hours when I feel Will sliding his arms around my body, picking me up from the couch. My eyes feel swollen and sore, a product of too many tears, and I burrow deeper into Will's chest as he walks to the bedroom. After placing me gently on the bed Will disappears to the bathroom and I hear the water running. I wonder briefly if I can convincingly pretend to be asleep when he comes out.<p>

Will is not gone for long and when he returns he does not go to his side of the bed as I expect, instead he sinks to his knees on the floor beside the bed and runs a warm, damp cloth over my face. Being taken care of is not something I am used to. Normally I am a very self-sufficient person but I feel my eyes slip closed as Will washes the tear stains from my cheeks. After a few moments I hear him return the cloth to the bathroom and when he comes back, he presses a kiss to my forehead before climbing under the sheets with me. Will wraps his arms around me and pulls me into his body,

"I'm so sorry Em," he whispers again and I shudder as I feel his lips press into the nape of my neck. He moves along my collarbone, his mouth hot and wet, and I hear myself sigh. His hands slide up beneath my nightgown, instinctively I reach to stop him and I'm surprised to find my hands pushing Will's shirt over his head instead. I can't help but stare as my fingers find their way across his chest, delighting in the feel of muscle rippling beneath skin. I barely notice when Will relieves me of my nightgown.

Will's lips close over a sensitive spot at the base of my throat and I cry out, arching my back into his roaming hands.

"Make love to me Will," I beg, my voice sounding breathy and thin, nothing like me. Will cups my face in his hands and I watch his eyes darken with desire; I'm surprised to find I'm not scared or nervous. Will kisses me hard on the mouth and his hands move with more purpose, memorizing the curves of my body. The more he touches me, the calmer and more centred I feel, an unexpected but most welcomed by-product of this adventure.

I find myself not entirely aware of my surroundings or exactly what is going on and as I come back to myself I realize both Will and I are completely naked. I gasp and Will asks,

"Doing okay Em?" and I nod, wanting nothing more than for him to continue. I can feel him, hard and ready, pressed against my thigh and I ask again,

"Please Will."

Will moves away from me and I watch, biting my lip as he rolls a condom into place. Everything seems more real now, and just a little scarier. He moves over me again but instead of entering me immediately as I expect, he starts to rain kisses over me. His movements are slow and controlled he begins to slide into me, never pausing his worship of my body, not giving me a chance to have that moment of startling and terrifying clarity that we have passed the point of no return.

It is nothing like I imagined but everything I had hoped for and I begin to move tentatively, my hips meeting Will's and I lose myself in the rhythm. The fire of arousal I've felt smouldering deep within my belly flares to life and spreads warmth to the tips of my toes. I can hear my own cries mingling with Will's voice and it all seems so far away. Will shifts his hips slightly, changing the angle and I feel a spark blaze through me. Moments more and I am lost, my hips losing the rhythm and my entire body going flaccid and weak. Will's hands slide beneath me and draw me into him a few more times before he stiffens, crying out my name in what I can only identify as ecstasy.

I may always be a freak but Will will always love me. I know that now and I cherish the thought as his hands slide over my skin, more sensitive to his touch than I've ever been. No more tears, no more sadness, just love.

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><p><strong>Up next: <strong>angst, second person – Will, superstition


	7. Superstition Ain't the Way

**A/N: **I have been *dying* to write angst. So let's all thank the hats for the following chapter!

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><p><strong>Angst, second person – Will, superstition<strong>

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><p>Sitting in your dressing room preparing for the Friday evening performance, you still have a hard time believing that you're part of the main cast in a hit Broadway musical. When you'd come to New York five years ago, chasing your dream, you never imagined you'd actually see your name in lights. Now here you are, in your own private dressing room back stage, your name splashed across the front of the playbill and lit up like the fourth of July on the sign out front.<p>

The make-up team has come and gone and you have a hard time recognizing yourself in the mirror, so heavily caked with stage makeup as you are. You slide into your costume with fifteen minutes to go until curtain and a flash of red hair in your mirror makes you spin around. Quickly you step into the hall to see Stephanie, the prop master, frantically searching for some misplaced prop in the dark recesses of backstage. Her auburn hair flares wildly around her face, having escaped its French braid as she flits from one side of the stage to another, making sure everything is perfect.

It surprises you that red hair still causes you to respond so strongly. It has been five years since you last saw Emma Pillsbury in your rearview mirror as you left for New York but there is an unconscious part of you that remains tied to her. Your goodbye had been bittersweet. At the time, you had anticipated returning to Lima after a summer in New York, but then you got your first part and you were hooked. Nothing could drag you away from the blood, sweat and tears you poured into this play, not even the woman you thought was the love of your life. At first you tried the long distance thing, talking on the phone and video chatting online but it had been too difficult with your erratic schedule. The breakup had been mutual, with equal heartbreak on both sides.

You had heard from friends that Emma had begun dating a little over a year after the two of you had broken up and after that you had stopped asking about her. It was too painful to hear how well she was coping without you, how easily she was moving on, while you threw yourself into your work and went home to an empty, hole-in-the-wall apartment each night.

The five minute call goes out and on your way out the door you rub the belly of the Buddha statue on the makeup counter. He was a gift and it has become your little ritual to rub his belly before you go onstage for luck. Emma gave him to you before you left for New York and you had rubbed his belly the first time before you auditioned for this musical. The ritual had stuck; a silly Broadway superstition. You take a moment to check your makeup one more time and straighten your costume before assuming your position for the curtain. You try to wipe the melancholy off your face and you fail. It's a good thing you're in a drama and not a comedy.

Standing on your mark, waiting for the first cue, your heart flutters like always. No matter how many times you stand and wait for that curtain to rise, you will always feel that rush of adrenaline that makes your heart pound. The music for the opening number begins, rattling your bones, and you fall deftly into character.

The first song goes off without a hitch. You barely notice the audience anymore, what little of them you can see with the bright glare of the stage lights in your eyes. They are just one more prop for you to manipulate. Tonight, however, something makes you cast your eyes out over the orchestra section, the only place you can actually see faces, and you feel your blood run hot then icy cold.

She is sitting about five rows back, a secretive smile on her face. Emma Pillsbury. You think your heart might stop beating, or it might beat right out of your chest, it's a tough call which way it will go. You are certain you stop breathing you are so caught off guard by her presence. The smile disappears and those big hazel eyes cloud with concern, worry lines marring her forehead. It is then you realize everyone is staring at you. You have completely missed your cue and are absolutely lost. Shoshana, your co-star, gracefully covers for you and repeats her line to recue you. You shake yourself out of your stupor and mechanically deliver the appropriate line. Shoshana subtly raises an eyebrow at you and you know you'll have to answer to her at intermission.

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><p>Shoshana ambushes you in your dressing room seconds after the curtains fall for intermission,<p>

"What the hell?" she asks you.

"I'm sorry Sho," you apologize, "I don't know what happened."

"You've never completely missed a cue before Will. I mean, we all flub lines but to miss a cue in the middle of a conversation? Is everything okay? You kind of look like you'd seen a ghost out there." Shoshana pulls a face, ever the superstitious Broadway veteran she hates every mention of ghosts on set. Your eyes flick to the Buddha and you say,

"I guess I kind of did."

Your glance at the statue gives you away. Shoshana has heard the story a thousand times before. She was the one you spent hours on end with after your breakup, running and rerunning lines until they were perfect, avoiding the painful reality of your life.

"She's here?" she asks and you nod. Shoshana opens her mouth to say something and then seems to change her mind. Finally she says, "Pretend she's not," before she disappears from your doorway.

Pretend she's not. You wonder if that's even possible. Even now, five years later, you can pick that red hair out of a crowd in a heartbeat. It seems too soon when you are called for the second act and you decide to try it Shoshana's way and you spend the remaining half of the play looking anywhere but at Emma.

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><p>The soft knock at your dressing room door as you finish removing your makeup after the final bow makes your heart beat a little faster. You are certain it's Emma. You can't decide if you are relieved or disappointed when you open the door to find Shoshana waiting there.<p>

"Want to grab a drink?" she offers.

"Thanks, but I think I just need to go home," you tell her. Shoshana shrugs and saunters off to join a small group of cast members for a post-work drink. With a sigh, you push the door mostly shut and move around the room, gathering up the last of your things.

"You kept him," she whispers from the door and your heart leaps into your throat, cutting off your air supply. You turn slowly, not entirely trusting your ears. But there she is, Emma Pillsbury, standing in the doorway of your dressing room. She moves into the room uninvited, running her fingers over the surface of the jade statue. You push your heart back into your chest and find your voice,

"Emma. It's…it's good to see you," you stutter.

"It's good to see you too Will. You were incredible tonight."

"Thank you," you say and then you blurt out, "What are you doing here?"

"Oh I'm just here with some girlfriends for a few days," she tells you, "Julia picked the musical. I don't think she realized you were in it."

You're not sure how it happens but you're standing close behind her, your hands on her shoulders as she continues to stroke the statue, seemingly mesmerized by the smooth jade surface. Without thinking you press your lips against her neck. When you realize what you've done you pull away. She isn't yours anymore, not like this. Much to your surprise Emma turns in your arms and kisses you full on the mouth. Her kisses are different than you remember, more insistent, but she tastes the same. You boost her up onto the counter and she wraps her long legs around you, pulling you close.

You are unused to this demanding, sexual version of Emma but there are so many thoughts in your brain that you're having trouble sorting out what is important and what isn't. Your ability for coherent thought goes out the window when Emma shimmies her hips against you and her hands slide under your shirt. Clothing disappears in a flurry of motion and you are buried deep inside her before you realize how far she intends to take things. There is no hesitation in Emma as she moves against you, encouraging you to follow her lead. Of all the times you imagined making love to Emma you had never imagined her to be the one in charge. Her nails rake down your back and her hips thrust forwards but you find yourself too stunned to move. Emma's lips move against your ear and she whispers,

"Please," and then she kisses you hard. Giving in you begin to thrust and Emma's head falls back, baring her neck to you. You can see her pulse racing beneath her skin and you close your lips over it, sucking gently. It seems like hours that you are together and she climaxes three times before you do, and you feel proud. It's only in the afterglow that you realize she probably wasn't a virgin, that her sexual confidence must have some source you don't know anything about.

Half clothed you watch as she gathers her things, tugging her skirt straight and tucking in her blouse.

"We should get dinner," you say and she looks at you startled, as though she'd forgotten you were there. She slips her feet into her shoes before she presses her lips to yours again,

"I can't stay," she tells you, her left hand cupping your face. You reach up to grab her hand as she turns to leave and the shock of the rings on her finger is almost physically painful.

"You're married?" you whisper, horrified.

"Two years this June," she tells you, looking guilty. "I'm sorry Will. I never meant for this to happen. I honestly just wanted to say hello. To tell you you're amazing on stage."

You are speechless. Married. Almost two years. You feel nauseous. She turns as she reaches the threshold,

"I hope you're happy Will," she says. And with that she disappears into the darkness. You hear the stage door slam shut behind her and you sink into a chair. It is nearly three in the morning before you manage to drag yourself out of the theatre and on the subway home you need to switch cars when a girl in a green coat with tumbling red curls gets in yours. When you reach your apartment you realize have a white-knuckle grip on the Buddha statue. You don't even remember picking it up. You climb out your bedroom window onto the fire escape, fifteen stories above an alley. As you lean over the edge you feel the statue slip from your fingers and you watch as it shatters on the concrete below. Time to find a new superstition.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **That was so much fun. For any Broadway fans, yes I was thinking of Shoshana Bean as Will's co-star :) And I even managed to sneak in a modified line from Wicked. And from a country song. This chapter had a lot of influences. I hope you all enjoyed it!

**Up next: **humour, 1st person – Will, evidence (Ahh more humour!)


	8. Taste of Evidence

**A/N: **My apologies for my lack of updates, life has been rather hectic as of late and I have been struggling with coming up with another "humour" based chapter…

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><p>She's the first one I noticed when I walked into the room, a slender woman wrapped head to toe in black, a perfect imitation of Michelle Pfeiffer's Catwoman. I can't tell if it's someone I know or not, the blood red lips and heavily charcoaled eyes combine with the black mask to make her unidentifiable while the skin tight black suit and thigh high black leather boots make her irresistible. Bieste had promised there would be plenty of available women at her Halloween party, plenty of women to get my mind off the redhead that haunts my dreams, but Catwoman was the only single woman in the room so far as I could tell.<p>

I've caught her staring a few times but she always looks away quickly when I catch her eye and I wonder if it's worth putting in the effort to introduce myself. I've been single nearly six months now and Emma's marriage has been officially annulled for four but she has made it abundantly clear that she is not ready for a relationship, so I dressed up like a fool tonight, hoping to find someone to distract me.

I feel like an ass as I walk the perimeter of the room. How I ever let Sue convince me that dressing up like Captain America was a good idea I'll never know; I must have been drunk. I discreetly tug the blue spandex tights out of my butt and sigh; this evening has been a lot less enjoyable than I'd anticipated. Most of the party is absolutely trashed and talking about going out to egg houses, it was amazing how quickly a little alcohol can regress a bunch of adults back to middle school.

Catwoman smiles coyly as I approach and I take it as a good sign, her eyes are fairly well focused so I assume she isn't nearly so drunk as the rest of them seem to be.

"Hi," I say, nonchalantly grabbing a beer from the cooler beside her. Catwoman just broadens her smile and takes a sip from her red plastic cup. We watch in silence as Shannon Bieste, dressed as Thor, picks up a scrawny cowboy and bodily ejects him from the house after he shattered a beer bottle on the kitchen floor. Catwoman lets out a low chuckle beside me and I slide my eyes to the side. She drains her cup and lifts the lid on the cooler, frowning when she finds only beer and half melted ice. Trying again I ask,

"Can I get you something to drink?" I wonder if she is friends with Shannon or if she came with the guy across the room dressed as Batman. Maintaining her silence Catwoman nods and follows me to the kitchen, passing a group of costumed idiots with a carton of eggs. I tug open Shannon's refrigerator and sitting front and centre is a tray of Jell-O shots. Catwoman's hand snakes over my shoulder and snags two shots and a can of premixed Jack and cola. I pull myself out of the fridge and resist the urge to pull my tights out of my butt again as Catwoman hands me the orange Jello-O shot.

Without waiting for me, Catwoman tilts her head back and I swallow hard as her tongue flicks along the edge of the cup to release the shot. I am still staring dumbfounded when she licks her lips and smiles at me as she tosses her cup in the garbage. Hastily I swallow the shot she'd handed me and follow her retreating form out the back door. We find seats on a bench next to the roaring bonfire in the backyard, the party has died down significantly since the drunkest and stupidest have gone off to wreak havoc on the neighbourhood.

"So how do you know Shannon?" I ask, dying to find out more about this enigma in black leather. Catwoman stays maddeningly silent, her eyes focused on Batman, who has just stumbled drunkenly from the house and fallen ungracefully down the steps and into a bush. Her voice is gravelly from smoke and alcohol when she turns her attention back to me but I swear I recognize it,

"She's a friend," is all she tells me. The way she's leaning back on the bench has gotten me distracted. The zipper on the front of the skin tight body suit seems to have slid down to reveal pale skin and a hint of cleavage. I watch as Batman struggles to his feet, his cape tangled around his head and his mask askew, Catwoman sighs quietly beside me,

"Your boyfriend?" I venture and she barks out a laugh.

"Hardly," she tells me and I breathe an inward sigh of relief. "I'm going to call it a night," she tells me and I quickly gather my courage to ask,

"Can I get your number?"

Catwoman just smiles and saunters away.

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><p>Why I tell the cab driver Emma's address I'm not entirely sure. Her apartment is dark when I arrive and I am on the doorstep debating with myself if I should wake her up when the door is buzzed open. I tug the tights out of my butt crack for what has to be the fiftieth time tonight and I enter the lobby before I can second guess myself.<p>

I spend the whole elevator ride telling myself that I should just go home and yet I end up in front of Emma's apartment anyway. The door opens suddenly and I am confronted by Emma in a floor length robe; it is a sight that makes my mouth go dry.

"Will?" she questions, her eyes clouded with concern, "Is that you?"

Cursing Sue and my own stupidity, I pull off the mask, "Uh yeah," I stumble. "I'm sorry, I know it's late."

"Do you want to some in?" My heart nearly stops when she utters those words.

"Um yeah, sure."

I squirm uncomfortably on the couch, trying and failing to wiggle the tights into a more comfortable position, a cup of coffee on the table before me.

"Are you okay Will?" Emma asks.

"Please give me another chance," I beg her and the moment I say the words, I regret them.

"Will…" she starts.

"I'm so sorry Em, I never meant to hurt you. I want to make this work."

We both startle as an egg splatters on Emma's window,

"I hate Halloween," she sighs, pushing herself up from the couch to assess the damage. Another egg cracks on the windowpane as Emma looks out, "You know, if I didn't know any better, I would swear that was Sue." I am behind her, trying to get a good look at the retreating red jumpsuit carrying a carton of eggs, when she turns to face me with mere inches separating us. I take a quick step back and apologize.

Much to my surprise, Emma's hands find their way into the waistband of my spandex tights,

"How on earth did Sue convince you to wear this?" Emma asks me.

"I don't know. Wait. How do you know Sue talked me into this?" Emma bit her lip, clearly caught.

"We may have had a bet," she admits to me quietly.

I am stunned as she tugs me towards her bedroom,

"Emma?" I question, "What's going on here?"

"I'm sick of the games Will," she tells me, crawling into bed. "I'm sick of being the pushover, the invalid. I am taking control of my life from now on."

I really wish I wasn't having this conversation dressed as Captain America. I struggle to find words, to make sense of what exactly Emma is telling me.

"Well Captain? Care to join me?" Emma asks, patting the bed beside her.

I joined her on the bed a little stiffly, still waiting to wake up from what could only be a dream.

"I've been a bad pussy cat," Emma purrs in my ear and I hear the gravel from smoke and alcohol slink back into her voice.

"Catwoman," I breathe and Emma throws her head back and laughs a throaty chuckle I've never heard from her before. All evidence of the heavy makeup is gone from her face but she shimmies out of the robe and I am treated to the sight of Emma clad in thigh high black leather boots and a black body suit unzipped nearly to her navel. I swallow hard, "Emma…"

"Shut up Will. I am done with talking. It's time you prove to me how much you love me." As an afterthought she adds, "And how sorry you are."

My lips find hers and I feel her struggle to relieve me of my stupid costume. I growl escapes her and I laugh, enjoying this new side of Emma. Breaking free from my kiss she hums in my ear,

"I'd rip them off but I kind of want you to keep them. They make your butt look fantastic. I had trouble keeping my hands off of you at the party."

I owed Sue. Big time.

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><p>Up Next: hurtcomfort, **blackboard**, first person - Emma


	9. Wipe the Slate Clean

**Disclaimer: **Much love to The Stellas for their heartbreakingly beautiful song _In this House_ which I used as a basis for this chapter.

**A/N:** Back to back apology updates for my lack of work on this story lately!

**Warning: **Here be spoilers (for 3x18 – Choke). Also, here be character death. Also it's a songfic…I don't know what's wrong with me tonight…

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><p><em>Everything reminds me of the day I can't forget<em>

_Black clouds, black cars, black dress._

_Now everyone around me says I should be moving on,_

_Lord knows I'm not that strong._

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><p>I reach blindly for the radio dial as tears fall silently down my cheeks; the song is too painful, too real as I sit in my black dress in a parade of black cars. I hear thunder crack above my head as the dark clouds roil with anger at the injustice that has been done. The car falls silent as Will shuts the radio off for me, he is stoic beside me and I don't know how he's keeping it all together. Shannon was his friend more than she was mine but I am the one who cannot seem to keep it together today.<p>

The hearse pulls into traffic and like good little soldiers, we all fall into line, our hazard lights flashing as we slowly wind our way through Lima towards the cemetery. We should never have had to make this trip.

It is fitting, when we finally stop at the graveside, that the football team are the pallbearers. Shannon was a huge presence, both physically and emotionally, so enthusiastic and joyful as she always was. I can't watch as they lower the casket, instead burying my face in Will's shoulder. Shannon is eulogized brightly and warmly by staff, students and friends, and the Glee club performs a moving rendition of Superchick's _Stand in the Rain_ that breaks my heart. There is a blackboard propped up at the grave, scrawled with messages of love and sadness for Shannon, wishes that she would find the happiness and love she was looking for.

As the graveside service ends I look up to the sky as the heavens open and the rain pours down. It takes everything I have to drop that white rose tied with a white ribbon on top of the casket and turn away. It becomes too final when that first handful of grave dirt is thrown. Rainbows of colour swirl together in the dirt as the chalkboard is washed clean, running in technicolour rivulets toward the grave, too happy for the scene.

I'd heard through the McKinley grapevine that Cooter had hit Shannon, that she'd lied to me and Will that day in the lunchroom when she said it was a speed bag that had given her the black eye. I'd tried to talk to her about it, to ask if there was anything I could do but Shannon had shrugged it off. She had said that she was living with her sister for now, until she could find a new apartment and would be ending her marriage to Cooter. Another lie.

We found out after it was too late that Shannon had returned to Cooter the day after she had initially moved out. Like so many battered women before her, breaking that bond seemed insurmountably difficult so she chose to stay and try and work it out. Maybe she thought she had to stay.

She had believed his promises, that he would seek help, stop drinking, never raise a hand to her again. Cooter lied too. He got better at abusing her apparently, only hitting her in places those of us who interacted with her on a daily basis would never see.

But I noticed the change in Shannon. At first I chalked it up to depression after losing her marriage and feelings of regret, sadness and guilt that often haunted abuse victims. But it dragged on. Three months after the black eye, Shannon admitted to Will that she had decided to give Cooter another chance. She said that Cooter had been in anger management therapy and had stopped drinking.

Will told me this two weeks later when I expressed concerns about Shannon's declining emotional state. When I asked her how things were going, she plastered on a smile and said everything was fantastic. Why couldn't I see through the lies?

It was Sue, of all people, who went to check on Shannon three days ago when she didn't show up for school. Sue had tried so hard to support Shannon, to get her out of the toxic marriage but Shannon had poured everything she had into her marriage and wasn't ready to give up without a fight.

There was a key hidden under the doormat and when Shannon didn't answer the door, Sue let herself in. The note was propped up on the coffee table next to a half empty bottle of vodka and multiple empty pill bottles. Shannon was long dead when Sue got there.

The official report said that there were more than fifty abrasions and contusions in various stages of healing on Shannon's body, all in places that would be normally covered in clothing. She had suffered in silence for months until it all became too much. How I wish I had said something, done something, when I saw her slipping into that depression. Maybe we wouldn't be standing here today, getting soaked to the bone, saying goodbye to a woman who didn't have to die.

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><p>I am only partly aware of the remainder of the day. Will and I host the gathering of friends and family after the funeral and I think I do a good job being hostess, smiling when people reminisce with funny stories about Shannon and keeping the worst of my heartbreak to myself.<p>

As the last of the crowd files out, I collapse wearily onto the couch feeling the need to cry but lacking the energy or tears to do it. Will sinks down next to me and I curl into him, needing to feel the heat and life of his body. After a few moments I am surprised to realize Will is crying; I cup his face in my hands and wipe away the tears.

"I can't believe she's gone," he chokes out, and I say nothing because I can't believe it either.

"I should have…" I start.

"No. We tried Emma. Everyone tried. We all saw Shannon change, we all saw that first bruise but no matter what we did, it wasn't enough. Shannon knew she was surrounded by people who loved her but that wasn't enough to help her leave the one man she thought would ever love her as a woman. There is nothing else we could have done."

"I feel like someone has turned out a light," I tell him, wondering if he'll understand what I mean.

"I know," Will agrees, "It's like there's something missing."

Will kisses tears from my cheeks that I hadn't even noticed were falling. In the heat of the moment he moves down my neck and I let my head tilt back. We both need a moment to forget the horror of the last week.

"Will," I breathe, afraid of where this might be going as his hands slide up my thighs but not wanting him to stop.

"I need to hold you," Will says, his voice muffled in my throat as he continues to lavish kisses across my collarbones.

"Ok," I whisper, my fingers fumbling with the buttons on his shirt.

"Em," Will warns as I reach the last button and splay my fingers across his chest.

"Don't stop Will," I beg.

Will's hands slide higher, hooking into the waistband of my stockings and pulling them down my legs. I shudder as the cool air hits my thighs, my dress hiked up to my hips as Will's fingers continue to explore. Carefully, he slides the zipper down the back of my dress, his fingers snaking beneath the fabric to caress my skin as he exposes each inch of flesh. I push the shirt from his shoulders and begin to work on his belt before I can change my mind. Will pulls the pins from my hair and as it swings free around my shoulders I stand and allow my dress to slip to the floor. Will pulls me back to him and his hands seem to be everywhere at once as he touches me. I am so focused on his touch I don't even realize that he's somehow ended up naked next to me.

Before I can react he's undone my bra and slid my underwear down my legs, levelling the playing field. We have a moment of quiet contemplation after he pushes into me and I feel my eyes fill with tears yet again.

"I love you Em," he whispers into my hair and I feel his tears dripping down on me, "Never leave me."

"Never," I promise, crying out softly as he begins to move.

* * *

><p>In the afterglow we lay on the couch, cocooned in a blanket, Will's hands tracing lazy patterns on my back.<p>

"She's really gone, isn't she?" I ask, knowing it's a childish question but needing to ask it anyways.

"Yeah Em, she's really gone," Will confirms and the tears start again, from both of us this time.

* * *

><p><em>I cry myself to sleep tonight so I,<em>

_Can see you in a dream._

_And I believe in you the way that_

_You believed in me._

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><p>Well that was fucking depressing. Working on – <strong>strawberries,<strong> friendship, third person omniscient.


	10. Love Tastes Like Strawberries

**A/N: **Can I just say that I had big plans for up-against-a-blackboard sex for last chapter's prompt and I'm kinda sad I didn't get to use it? Although I am pretty happy with what I ended up with, hurt/comfort was not my initial thought for that one!

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><p>For as long as Emma could remember, she had gone to spend summers with her grandparents in Degraff, Ohio. The sleepy little farming town had been her refuge on those hot summer days once school let out. Her brother would be shipped off to baseball training camp to groom him for the majors while her parents jetted off somewhere across the ocean and she would spend her days in the middle of nowhere. Some kids would have begged to go along on the exotic adventures her parents took every summer but not Emma. She couldn't imagine a more perfect place to spend the summer, reading books in a hammock beneath the cherry trees on sultry afternoons and swimming in the spring-fed pond at the back of her grandparents' property when the heat was just too much.<p>

One of Emma's first clear memories of her childhood is of standing on a kitchen chair beside her grandmother, four years old and carefully stirring a bubbling pot of strawberry jam. To this day, the smell and taste of strawberry jam has the ability to pull Emma back in time to those scorching summer afternoons on the farm.

It had been a friendly invitation when Will had asked her to go strawberry picking, their relationship just beginning to blossom under careful tending and love. Emma had jumped at the chance, feeling a deep longing for strawberry jam, and a yearning to go back to simpler times.

"Wow Em, that's a lot of strawberries!" Will remarked as Emma struggled to haul a large basket out from between the rows of berry plants. Will took the basket from her hands and swung it onto the little cart they'd pulled along with them.

"I know," Emma smiled, "Do you mind if I just pick a few peaches before we leave?"

"Sure Em," Will chuckled, wondering what on earth tiny little Emma planned on doing with so much fruit.

As they loaded their haul into the car, Will noticed stalks of rhubarb hidden in among the strawberries and peaches and decided he just had to ask.

"Emma, what are you possibly going to do with all of this?" Emma just smiled and said,

"Why don't you come over later and I'll show you?" Will cocked an eyebrow at her, chuckling softly at the unintended innuendo and Emma flushed bright pink. "Never mind," she stammered, completely mortified.

"No I don't think so Em, I really want to see what you have planned."

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><p>Emma had her hair pulled back neatly in a bun as she moved quickly from pot to pot over the stove, her cheeks blushed red from the steam as she worked. She heard Will's knock at her door and called over her shoulder,<p>

"It's open Will!" as she dipped a spoon into the strawberry rhubarb jam bubbling at the front of the stove. Pulling a face as Will entered the kitchen, she poured more simple syrup into the pot to ease the bitter tang of the rhubarb.

"Wow Em," Will commented from the doorway, casting his eyes about the kitchen. His normally neat and tidy Emma had upside down mason jars on every available surface, lids stacked neatly nearby, and a small section of the countertop was littered with strawberry hulls, peach pits and rhubarb leaves.

"Can you taste this?" Emma asked, holding a red-coated spoon out to Will who obligingly took it into his mouth.

"This is really good Emma," Will said, "Strawberry peach?"

"Mm," Emma agreed, dipping a new spoon into the pot and trying it for herself. "No, there's something missing." Emma's fingers danced along her spice rack as she tried to determine what would make the jam perfect.

"Ah ha!" Emma pulled a spice grinder and a jar of pink peppercorns from the shelf, dumping a handful of the seeds into the grinder. When the peppercorns had been reduced to a fine powder, she upended them into the pot and stirred the powder through. She held another spoon out to Will, "Better?"

"Perfect," he agreed, surprised at how much depth the addition of the peppercorns had given the jam. Emma smiled and began to ladle jam into jars, quickly capping them and dropping them into a boiling water bath to seal them. Feeling useless, Will stepped in to take on the job of capping the jars and Emma smiled at him,

"Thanks, this is always much easier with two people."

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><p>Two hours later there were twenty jars of strawberry peach pink peppercorn, twenty jars of strawberry rhubarb and forty jars of just plain strawberry jam piled high on Emma's kitchen table. She and Will sat at the breakfast bar having just finished eating pizza, taking in the fruits of their labour.<p>

It had surprised Will how quickly and easily Emma had opened up about her childhood and the summers she spent on her grandparents' farm. Emma was normally so quiet and reserved, never sharing enough of herself to let anyone close enough to really hurt her. Sliding from her stool Emma asked,

"Did you save room for dessert?" Will swallowed hard and tried not to stare as Emma bent down to retrieve something from her freezer.

"Uh sure."

Emma pulled a tub a vanilla ice cream from the freezer and stuck it into the microwave to thaw it slightly. While she waited she pulled two bowls from the cupboard and cracked the seal on a jar of the strawberry peach jam. After scooping ice cream into each bowl, Emma spooned jam over each one and slid a bowl across the counter to Will.

"This is fantastic Emma," Will told her as they sank comfortably onto her couch, bowls and spoons in hand.

* * *

><p>Will took Emma's empty bowl from her hands and carried them to her kitchen, rinsing each dish before putting them into the dishwasher like he knew she liked. Emma smiled when Will returned to the couch beside her,<p>

"Thanks for indulging my crazy," she said, nudging him with her shoulder. Will laughed, turning to stare as Emma tugged her hair out of the bun and let it curl loosely around her shoulders. Unable to resist, Will swept the hair off of Emma's neck and brushed feather-light kisses along her jawline, smiling to himself as her head tilted to give him better access. Slowly, doing his best not to move too quickly, Will let his hand stray to Emma's breast, his thumb brushing gently across her nipple. Sucking in a gasp, Emma contemplated telling Will to stop but then he began to suck at the pulse point in her neck and she lost the ability to speak. Emboldened by her acquiescence and the soft mewling sounds falling from Emma's lips, Will allowed his hands to stray lower, tentatively grasping her upper thighs.

"Will," Emma choked out, "What are you doing?"

"I want to make you feel good Emma," Will whispered low in her ear, "Do you want me to make you feel good?" Will's fingers moved dangerously close to the juncture of her thighs and Emma could do nothing but nod. With her permission secured, Will deftly unbuttoned Emma's jeans and tugged them down her legs, taking her panties with them. Emma sucked in a deep shaky breath and Will said, "I'll stop any time you want me to Emma, just let me know."

"Don't stop," Emma begged, surprised at the sound of her own voice encouraging Will on. Emma nearly stopped breathing as Will lowered his head to kiss the inside of each of her knees before slowly travelling upwards.

"You're gorgeous Em," Will growled, fascinated by the sight of an aroused Emma. Deciding he could wait no longer, he flicked his tongue across her, smiling when she cried out.

It wasn't long before Emma was writhing beneath him, begging for a release greater than she'd ever experienced before. Will, not one to keep a lady waiting, upped the intensity of his work and held onto Emma's hips as she thrashed wildly, climaxing with a force she'd never dreamed possible. As she came down from the stratosphere, Emma looked down at Will through heavy-lidded eyes and said,

"I never realized you were such a fan of jam."

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><p><strong>Next:<strong> second person- Will; romance; search


	11. Love is Looking for You

**A/N:** I hope you're all still enjoying this as much as I am!

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><p>Standing at the altar, you feel the butterflies whirling inside your stomach making you feel a little queasy as the traditional wedding march begins. Fighting with everything you have, you resist the urge to glance over your shoulder at the beautiful redhead you know is now striding down the aisle towards you. Finn leans over and whispers into your ear,<p>

"Wait 'til you see her Mr. Schue," and you smile, the anticipation of the moment making you dizzy. You feel a hand on your shoulder and you turn to see Emma's father offering you Emma's hand. Slowly, your gaze travels up her arm to her face as her father lifts her veil and kisses her on the cheek. A tear rolls down her cheek as her father takes his seat in the front pew and you allow your eyes to make their way down Emma's body. The dress is nothing like the one she'd worn when she'd almost married Ken Tanaka, all lace and ribbons this time without a trace of heavy satin to be found.

"You look beautiful," you whisper, wishing you could come up with a more appropriate descriptor. Beautiful didn't even begin to cover it. Emma smiles shyly at you as you both turn to face the pastor and await her opening words.

You barely hear what the pastor is saying, you can't stop sneaking glances at Emma out of the corner of your eye, and you stumble when you hear the preacher ask you to read your vows. Clearing your throat you turn to Emma, lost in her eyes as she tilts her face up to you, her eyes full of love and adoration.

"Emma," you begin nervously, "In the last few months, I have come to realize that there is something missing in my life." You hurry on as Emma's smile falters, "Before we were together, I spent my life searching for that one person who would love me unconditionally and would support me in all the ways that you do. I'm missing the search Emma, and I couldn't be happier for it to have come to an end." You breathe a sigh of relief as Emma's smile broadens again, "You have had my back through some difficult times and have always had the right words to say to help me through the rough patches and there is nothing I want more than to spend the rest of my life being that person for you. I love you with all my heart Emma and I promise to spend every day proving that to you, for the rest of my life."

Tears have been making their way silently down Emma's face as you spoke and her voice is watery as she read you her vows.

"Will, you have been so patient, kind and loving. You have been everything I have ever dreamed of in a man, and a thousand times more. We have had our difficulties, our days and weeks were it looked like this day would never come but I never gave up hope," Emma looks at you earnestly and you wonder how real her marriage to Carl had been. "I would have searched forever to find a way back to you and I promise that I will always be by your side, your rock and your confidant, as I know you will be mine. I love you so much Will, and I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you."

A few more words from the pastor and you turn to Finn who pulls the delicate white gold ring from his pocket and you slide it onto Emma's finger. She repeats the process, sliding your ring on and you are overjoyed as you hear the pastor announce you as husband and wife. Knowing Emma is not one for grandiose public displays of affection, you pull her close and kiss her soundly, breaking away far before you want to.

* * *

><p>At the reception you are both moved and embarrassed by the toasts given by your nearest and dearest. You feel as though your feet haven't touched the ground since that simple silvery band had slid on to your left hand and you glance at Emma who is talking and laughing with Sue and Shannon, surrounded by an ethereal glow of happiness. The hours on the dance floor pass by in a whirling haze of colour and champagne, and before you know it you are taking to the floor with Emma for your final dance of the night. You can see the uncertainty that now flickers behind her eyes so you lean in close to her so your lips brush the shell of her ear as you say,<p>

"Nothing has to change Emma," startled, she looks to you, searching for your meaning so you clarify, "I don't expect anything Emma, and I don't want you to feel pressured." Emma nods and smiles but you can still feel the tension radiating from her shoulders.

The song ends and you lead Emma to the waiting Town Car, preparing to drive to the honeymoon suite in which you will spend your wedding night before flying to Paris in the morning. You can tell Emma is still nervous as she barely speaks the entire car ride, regardless of your attempts to crack jokes and otherwise lighten the mood.

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><p>"I'm sorry Will," she says, refusing to face you as the door to the suite swings shut behind you. Her shoulders slump forwards and she looks miserable,<p>

"Em…" you start, touching her shoulder, trying to get her to face you, "Em there's nothing to be sorry about."

"Will! _Everyone_ has sex on their wedding night!" She says, throwing her hands up in what you can only assume is exasperation. You attempt to placate and soothe her but she ploughs on, "And you know the worst part? I _want_ to make love to you tonight! More than anything I've ever wanted before but…" Her breath hitches in a sob.

"But what, Em?" you prod gently, wanting to find the root of the issue.

"I'm scared Will," she whispers.

"Scared of what Em?" You've known for ages that she was scared of intimacy and of sex but you've never fully understood why.

"What if it hurts?" She begins, and then the reasons pour forth like water, "What if I'm no good at it? What if I don't like it? What if you don't like it?" All this time she has refused to face you, even as she grows more agitated, babbling almost incoherently now, so you grip her shoulders firmly and press your mouth to her ear as you speak,

"It might hurt, but we'll go slow and I'll stop whenever you need me to. As for all those other worries, they're not gonna be a problem Em."

With the utmost care, your lips slide to her neck and you begin to lay hot, wet kisses on the soft skin there. Your ever-busy hands are working the hundred tiny pearl buttons on the back of Emma's dress, slowly, agonizingly, exposing more flesh to your touch. As you finally reach the last button, your fingers skim along a spot on Emma's back that makes her shiver in delight and sigh your name. You make a mental note of the spot for later as your hands return to the lace sleeves of the dress. With a flick of your wrists, the material slides from Emma's body and pools on the floor. You swallow hard and you encourage Emma to turn and face you. You can feel how hard she's trembling beneath your fingertips so you decide to check in with her,

"How are you doing Em?" you ask and Emma just nods, big doe-eyes wide. "Are you comfortable?" You ask and you slide your palms across her abdomen, and Emma breathes,

"Oh God yes," and you chuckle. Without much fanfare you push her back to the sprawling king bed in the centre of the room, quickly divesting yourself of everything but your boxers. Lying beside her, you trail your fingers softly up and down Emma's arm, letting her grow accustomed to being so nearly naked. Much to your surprise, you feel Emma's small hand close over your erection through your boxers. It is nearly enough to make you climax.

Taking her boldness as permission, you remove her last remaining clothing and let yourself explore her body more fully.

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><p>As Emma lies with heavy-lidded eyes, so bonelessly relaxed after multiple orgasms, you decide to see if she is ready to take that final leap and once again she surprises you, handing you a condom.<p>

"I'm ready Will," she tells you.

It is nothing short of heaven as you push into her, hotter and tighter than you'd ever imagined and the tiny mewling sounds falling from her lips are driving you wild. The more you move, the louder Emma gets and soon she is crying out with each thrust, her nails leaving deep red lines down your back. Sensing that she is close once again, you slide a hand between your bodies to help push her over the edge. She comes with something just short of a scream, muffled as she bites your shoulder and pulls you with her.

"I love you Em," you whisper as you lay in the afterglow.

"Love you too," Em replies before drifting off to the most comfortable sleep she'd had in years.

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><p><strong>Up Next: <strong>second person Emma, angst, clean


	12. Come Back Clean

**A/N: **This prompt seemed wayyy too predictable…so I made it something completely different than you might be expecting. It's the shortest chapter by far…more of a drabble but I like it!

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><p>The pain of waking to an empty bed just before dawn is more physical than you could have imagined. It's not just emotional or mental pain you're feeling, it's the visceral sensation of having your insides torn out. Lying quietly on your back in the dark, your fingers move across the rumpled sheets on the opposite side of the bed as you flash back to the previous night, doing your best not to cry.<p>

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><p>It had been dark when you'd finally finished up the final SAT prep course of the year, the stressed and anxious seniors drilling you with inane questions for an hour beyond the usual cut-off time. You had sleepily made your way home, wondering if Will would be waiting. Wondering what state he'd be in if he was.<p>

He'd hidden it so well at the beginning, the whiskey in his coffee, a few shots of tequila before Glee club, a few beers during the game that turned into half a case before you even realized. You'd asked him to get help, to stop drinking, and he promised he would. He didn't.

When you pushed open the door you were delighted to see the table set and dinner waiting for you, Will acting the perfect gentleman and not seeming the least bit intoxicated. You allowed yourself a glimmer of hope that he was serious about no longer drinking.

When dinner was finished Will led you to the bedroom and offered a massage, entirely platonic of course. You had accepted and somehow let yourself become swept up in the sensuality of touch, only to find yourself writhing beneath him as he snatched your virginity away from you. At first, when you realized what you were doing, you panicked but quickly you find yourself overcome with lust, raking your fingernails down his back as he thrusts deeply within you.

In the afterglow you try not to show him how disgusted you are with the sweat and body fluids when you dash to the bathroom and into the shower in an attempt to get clean again. He must notice because when you return to bed, you can smell the alcohol. And so the argument had started anew.

"Will," you began exasperatedly, "You said you were going to get help. You said you would stop drinking."

At first he tries to lie, "I haven't been drinking Emma. I haven't had a drink since you asked me to stop," you can hear the defensiveness in his voice.

"Will, I can smell it."

"It was one drink Em, some people have a cigarette after sex, I like to have a couple fingers of Scotch, what's the harm in that?"

"You have a problem Will! It's never just one drink with you! I need you to get clean if this is going to work between us."

"God Emma, I don't need to 'get clean'," the snarky sarcasm is biting and you winced, "I'm not hooked on heroin; I like to have a few drinks. As far as I can tell, _you're_ the only one with a 'cleaning' problem here."

"Then I guess there's nothing left to say," you told him, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from crying.

"Fine, if that's how you're going to be, I guess this was all a big mistake," Will shouted, gathering his clothes and yanking a half empty bottle of Scotch from beneath the bed before storming out of your bedroom. You jumped as you heard the front door slam behind him and you took a moment to gather your thoughts.

Once your heart rate had somewhat normalized and you had stopped shaking quite so hard you moved slowly to the front door, finally giving in to the tears that had been threatening as you bolted and chained the door. You slid to the floor, leaning back against the cold hard wood of your door and cried until there was nothing left and you felt utterly empty. Almost drunkenly you staggered to your feet and trudged into the bedroom, falling exhausted into the rumpled bed sheets.

Silently you contemplated Will's parting remarks. You know you have a problem with messes and with things being dirty but was it really a problem of the magnitude of problem drinking? Your instincts would say no but the seed of doubt had been planted nonetheless.

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><p>The sun is just starting to break the horizon and you find yourself resenting Will, not only for his own personal issues but for the depth to which he gave yours. You have always understood that you have issues but you have always managed them so that you could function. Will was a teacher, he couldn't be drinking on the job, it wasn't right.<p>

But then, might some not argue that you shouldn't work as a guidance counsellor with so many issues of your own? Isn't it possible that if parents and students knew the extent to which you suffered from OCD, without seeking any treatment of yourself, that they may fight to oust you just as they would Will if they knew his secret?

The intricacies of the arguments playing out in your head were making it ache so you are dragging yourself from bed in search of Tylenol when your phone rings. The phone falls slips from your fingers and breaks apart on the bathroom floor when the state trooper delivers the news,

"Ma'am there's been an accident. William Shuester was driving under the influence of alcohol last night and his car was hit by a train. He's in surgery now, but your number was in his phone for emergencies. You might want to come down to Memorial, he didn't look so great going in."

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><p><strong>Up next: <strong>first person Emma, drama, beach


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