Eminem Fan Fiction Shorts - I

Mr. Mathers' Luck

Days became weeks and weeks and, faster than I would have thought, D had been working for me for three months. We'd developed a routine as the time passed. She worked every weeknight and then made up meals for me for the weekends. Somehow, it had become our practice to talk while she worked.

I found myself looking forward to going home each evening, jealous of any time I could have with her. Each night, she'd ask me about my day and she made me feel like it wasn't just perfunctory. She wanted to hear, offered her thoughts when I asked for them, and gave sympathy when things weren't going well. She joked and teased me in a way no one else ever had. We just clicked. It was fluid, like water running off a window pane. The direction of our conversations couldn't be predicted, but they always ended the same way, with me happier than I could ever remember being. 

As I walked into the house today, anxious to see her after the weekend, I noted a very obvious difference to the house. I could smell apples and cinnamon in the air and everywhere I looked, there was pine and silver and subtle, twinkling lights. It was the Monday after Thanksgiving, and D had decorated my house for the holidays.

I looked around with interest, noting the little bits here are there. She must have spent the day here. There was fake snow sprayed onto the windows, tinsel in the corners, and boughs interspersed throughout on nearly every horizontal surface. For a woman who claimed not to be a Martha Stewart, she'd sure made my house look like the embodiment of a cozy winter getaway.

I found her, as I always do, in the kitchen. I was about to comment on her artistry around the house when she turned.

"What the fuck happened?" I demanded, walking quickly to her and raising a gentle hand to her face, which was covered in bruises. Her left hand had a black, removable splint on it that went up her forearm.

"Turns out, I'm too old to learn how to snowboard." She said wryly, her lips twisting a bit. I traced over the bruises on her face, frowning at what I saw.

"Explain." I demanded again. D sighed, but didn't move away as I continued to explore her face with light fingertips.

"One of my buddies wanted to go skiing. I didn't grow up around snow, so I didn't know how. So, we decided to try snowboarding instead - neither of us had done it so we'd be at the same skill level." She replied. "I was doing alright, until I got a little over confident and took a trail that was over my head. I went into the trees and didn't stop until I came face to face with a fir." She paused. "Literally."

"It looks painful, baby." I said, so concerned that I only barely registered what I'd called her. She reached up with her unsplinted hand and held my wrist, squeezing it slightly.

"It happened Saturday, so it's just getting colorful, now. Tylenol does wonders." She said and I nodded, stepping back because if I didn't, I was going to cross a line that I wasn't sure D wanted me to cross. I swallowed and tossed a thumb over my shoulder.

"So, the house looks different." I said dryly and D chuckled.

"Yeah, I was hoping you'd be okay with it. I love the holidays and I wanted to spread some cheer." She responded, a slight blush on her cheeks.

I nodded and leaned against the counter as she moved to stir something on the stove. When she turned back to me, she had the bottom side of her lip in her teeth, which was distracting as fuck. I'd kept my growing need for her under control for the last three months by making myself stay on the opposite side of the kitchen. Being close enough to smell the vanilla scent she preferred was doing a number on me already, and that bite was making it worse.

"What?" I asked, knowing that there was something she wanted to ask.

"I have a tree, too." She said, her eyes pleading. "But I didn't want to set it up because I didn't want to overstep." She explained. "It would look great in the large bay window in the entertainment room." I smiled, liking the plan that was forming in my mind even as I spoke.

"I'll let you set it up if you eat with me first, and then let me help." I offered and D's eyes widened a little.

I'd noticed that the color of her eyes seemed to pull one direction or another, depending on what she was wearing or feeling. If she were in blacks, greys, or blues, the blue stood out. When she was in red, green or purple, the green was more prominent. When she was angry, like the day I'd caught her after she'd burned herself while baking, they were like emeralds. When she teased me, they reminded me of a lake I'd seen when I'd been on tour once. Right now, the blue stood out.

"I'd like that." She said, a smile tugging at her lips. I nodded toward the other room.

"Well, then I'll get something festive that isn't shit playing for us." I said and she laughed and nodded.

"Alright. This will be ready in a few minutes." She said and then turned back to the stove.

When I stepped out of the kitchen, I took a deep breath. This could mean something, or it could mean nothing. While I had become certain of myself with every minute I spent with D, I didn't know how she felt. Every once in a while, I thought I'd catch something in her eyes that made me hopeful, but she usually covered it with a joke before I could explore  it.

Shaking my head, I took out my phone to start looking for a playlist that wouldn't make me want to gag. I couldn't say I was a huge fan of holiday music, but I was damn sure I was going to find something that I could stomach if it meant that D was going to hang with me tonight. Ultimately, I landed on a station that had a lot of older singers. I had a sneaking feeling that D would be more into Esther Williams' version of "Baby, It's Cold Outside" than she would be the more modern versions.

"Perfect!" D called out as she set the table for us and I smirked. She caught the look and tossed the hand towel that had been over her shoulder at me.

"Oh, stop. I'm not that predictable." She grumbled and I shook my head.

"Not predictable, baby. I just pay attention." I replied and she smiled and gestured to the table.

Over some kind of pasta dish filled with a sweet tasting squash and accented with nuts, we talked about our weekends and plans for the rest of the week. D let her hair down after she'd finished cooking and it flowed over her shoulders around the soft, light purple sweater she was wearing. Although her face was black and blue, she was beautiful in the twinkling lights she'd hung around the ceiling of the room.

When we were done, D looked at her watch and frowned a little. Shit.

"Is it too late to set up?" She asked, doubt clouding her eyes. "I don't want to force my holiday buzz on you." She said and I shook my head, relieved that she wasn't looking for an excuse to leave.

"Nope. Not too late at all."