A Very Jemma Christmas

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Emma had been standing frozen outside the door of her parabatai's bedroom for about five minutes. It was the safest place in her world; the room that had always been her refuge when the nightmares haunted her, but tonight she was hesitant to go inside. Tonight, the night the always spent together each year, no matter what.

They had spent plenty of nights together over the years, but there were just a few nights that they never missed. The anniversaries of their parents' deaths, their parents' birthdays, and tonight... Christmas Eve. She remembered that first Christmas at the LA Institute. None of them had wanted to celebrate, but they'd tried for Tavvy's sake to have a little Christmas spirit. On Christmas Eve, she had noticed that Jules was missing. Eventually she had found him hiding in the attic. He hadn't been crying... It probably would've been easier if he had. He'd just been sitting curled up in a dusty corner with his knees to his chest, eyes open but glazed over. He wouldn't answer her when she spoke to him, almost like he couldn't hear or see her at all. Rather than panic, rather than run to get help, she had sat down beside him and leaned her head on his shoulder. She wrote on his arm with her index finger for hours, the same thing over and over. I love you Jules. You are not alone. Finally, he had moved. He leaned his head on hers and wrote back. Love you too. Thanks. They had slept there that night, curled together in the dark, and had spent every Christmas Eve together since.

Now everything was different. They still were close, closer than ever really, but the nights they spent together now weren't so simple.  There were temptations now because of the feelings they had both acknowledged, and it was hard to sleep easily when her mind was full of Julian. Even when her eyes were closed, she saw the cords of muscle under the scars peppered across a warrior's back, saw the tanned arms that were strong enough to break a Raum demon's spine but gentle enough to cradle Tavvy in his arms and carry him to bed.  She saw the curve of his soft lips, the disheveled brown curls spilling onto the pillow, and the hard planes of his abs. She couldn't get him out of her head. She knew what she wanted to give him for Christmas, but she wasn't sure he wanted it. By the Angel, she hoped he did. She wasn't used to feeling unsure about things, and frankly she was becoming quite annoyed with herself for this bout of nerves. There's no reason to be nervous around Jules! argued her sensible inner voice. But still she felt paralyzed, unable to reach out her hand and grab the doorknob.

Suddenly, the door opened in front of her. She jumped back a step, blushing as Julian took in the sight of her standing there. His sea-green eyes were crinkled in a somewhat worried expression, his head cocked to the side as he observed her. She knew that look. It was the one her Jules always wore when he was studying a subject for one of his paintings, trying to understand how the details fit together. She smiled despite her embarrassment. "Quit trying to figure me out," she said, pushing his shoulder playfully as she slid past him into the room.

Julian shook his head, smiling softly as he closed the heavy oak door and leaned back against it. "What were you doing out there?" His casual tone of voice wasn't quite convincing, but she decided she'd rather play it casual than tell the truth.

"Oh, you know, just steeling myself for an entire night of having the covers stolen from me again." She threw her hands in the air and fell backward onto the bed in a dramatic gesture.

He walked slowly toward her. "Emma... Were you not going to come in?"

Drat. He wasn't going along with her excuse. "Of course I was," she said quietly. "It's Christmas Eve."

"So why were you standing out there for 5 hours?"

"First of all, it was like five minutes, ok? Chill out."  She hesitated, then continued in a low voice. "And I was just nervous."

"About what, sleeping in my room?"

"Not exactly."

"About seeing me?"  He looked a little bewildered.

"No, I always love seeing you, you know that."

"Well, what do you have to be nervous about then?"

She felt a hot blush creeping down her neck. "Nothing," she said, hiding her face in her hands. She felt like an idiot.

"Em, please tell me what's going on. I'm lost." He sat down next to her on the bed and looked down at her, peeling her hands away from her face and brushing away a strand of hair that had escaped from the long braid that hung over her shoulder.

She took a deep breath. "I've just been thinking about... sleeping with you."

"Ok, so...?"

"No, I mean sleeping with you."

"Oh..." Now he was the one blushing. He looked like he wanted to say something, but couldn't find words.

This is awful. Why did I even say anything? He probably doesn't want to and now he feels awkward and pressured. Angel, now I'm trying to corrupt his innocence? I don't want to be that girl, just because I'm more experienced. This is a disaster.

"You know what, never mind, forget I said anything. You don't want to, that's fine." 

She got out of bed, but was pulled back by a firm grip on her wrist. Julian pulled her toward him slowly, deliberately. He placed one hand firmly on the small of her back, while the other came up to grip her chin and tilt her face up to his.  She hadn't known that the color of the ocean could look fiery, but his eyes were blazing. She felt her heart melting inside her, sending waves of heat coursing through her body.

When he spoke, each word was deliberate, spoken with sincerity and intensity. "I have never wanted anything more."

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Julian rolled over in bed on Christmas morning and smiled at the sleeping figure of his best friend, his parabatai, the love of his life. Her features were softer when she slept soundly like this. She looked younger, the way she'd been before she had been hardened by war and bitter anger. He was glad she softened around him, glad she could be different with him than she was with the rest of the world. The world was a dangerous place, but at least they had a refuge in each other.

He leaned over and kissed her nose. "Merry Christmas Emma," he whispered.

"Merry Christmas Jules."

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