Galatea

Galatea Chapter Thirty Eight (NC-17)
Disclaimers Apply

A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE (tm), Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta...I think I over-tea'd. Is that possible? InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink and Dracena get musekibble for archiving/hosting. ProPhile...purple muse wings. Readers/Reviewers: Thanks!!!!!!!!!

Sam cleared his throat nervously. "Um, Theresa?"
She sighed a little then brightened, her "pleasant expression" actually somewhere between "just had some bad cottage cheese" and "I'm going to break something important on your body very soon." She had not had a lot of practice with pleasant. "Yes?" she caroled in an overly sweet voice.
He blinked and took a step back. "Um, I was just wondering if you'd like to go to a movie on Friday..."
"Why, I'd love to!" she cried with emphasis on 'love'. She cringed at the sound of such a twitty cadence in her own ears but she had promised herself to make an effort to be the ideal female for him and she had a strong suspicion ideal did not include enjoying kicking the hell out of things in the Danger Room or the language skills of a sailor. _I can do sweet. I really can... _
"Are you feelin' okay?"
"Just great," she chirped. "You?"
"You're awfully...bouncy."
"Bouncy good or bouncy bad?" she frowned, glancing quickly at her chest.
"Bouncy...weird. You're...perky."
"What's not to be perky about?" She shrugged and wished the floor would open up beneath her feet. "Oh, flowers! Are those for me?" _Who else would they be for? _ she sighed inwardly. _Bobby? _
"Uh, yeah. Daisies." He held the bouquet out to her and felt his eyebrows shoot up as she giggled. "Okay, that's it," he declared. "You're gonna go see Beast!"
"Huh? Sam, leggo my arm!" She wrenched herself free of his sudden grasp and glared. "What the fuck?" she slipped up and snarled.
"You're acting all weird, giggling and...squeaking and...stuff!"
"I am not squeaky! I'm feminine!"
"Uh, no you're not. You were giggling!"
"So?" she shot back, her hands on her hips. "Maybe I was making a girly noise of appreciation for the flowers!"
"Ah! Girly! You're never girly!"
"How do you know? You've known me a month or more, not my entire life! Maybe I'm very girly outside of here!"
"Are you?"
"No!"
They fell quiet save for the sound of their ragged, annoyed breathing. Sam finally asked, "Why the girly act then?"
"No reason."
"Theresa..."
"Don't make me raise my voice, Sam."
"Don't make me make you..." He sighed and pushed his hair out of his eyes, looking at her with a mixture of annoyance and curiosity. "Theresa...does this have to do with us?"
"Is there an us?"
"Well...kind of..."
"We kissed twice... Does that make us a couple here?"
"I'd like it to."
"Oh." She was honestly taken aback. She had expected a flippant answer or even a denial. She had an answer all ready and everything for a denial... "Really?" she finally asked.
"I'd hoped to ask you differently than this, but yeah."
"Oh." She sat down on the sofa and stared up at him for a long moment. "You don't care that I hate wearing dresses and would rather work on the Jeep with Scott than go shopping with Kitty?"
"Do I need to care?"
"I guess not."
He shrugged. "Why did you think I would?"
"There was this magazine and we were talking and...oh, never mind..."
He blinked. "I think I just figured out why all the girls are nuttier than fruitcakes this week."
"Where are you going?"
"Gotta find one of the guys!" he said over his shoulder, leaving her sitting on the sofa holding the slightly crumpled daisies.
"That was weird..."

Emma examined her reflection one more time in the mirror before sing ing out into the hallway and making her way down the stairs, tottering on heels higher than was her norm. Pausing once more to make sure her skirt was straight and her hair relatively smooth, she glided into the study and took a seat opposite Sean, who was grading papers on the large oak desk. "I have a proposition for you."
"Pardon me?"
"In a year's time,m stm starting a branch of the Institute in Boston. The projected growth for the Bayville school is such that Charles and I think it would be best to stem all future recruits to a new school. My proposition is thus: You come with me. Be the co-head."
He leaned back in his chair and fixed her with an appraising gaze. "Emma, is this some way of apologizing for being irrational?"
She gritted her teeth. "Do you want it to be?"
"I'm not sure," he admitted. "On one hand, I'd like an apology. On the other, it would feel like prostituting myself to accept this job in lieu of an apology."
Emma sighed. "You want an apology? For which, sleeping together or me being upset that you announced it was a mistake before I was even done with afterglow?"
"Er...is there a good answer for that one?"
"No."
"Emma, look," he said urgently, leaning across the desk to take her hands, which he quickly released under her icy glare. "It't tht that I didn't enjoy what we did but..." He paused, seeming to gauge her reaction and choose his next words carefully. "But my daughter is here. If I were to carry on with you under the same roof, what would she think?"
"Well, if I recall being a teenager correctly, something like 'Ew gross,' followed by 'old people are disgusting,' then 'Hey, if dad's doing it, that means he can't yell at me for doing it, too...'. Or something similar," she added as an after thought.
He frowned. "Why would she...It's that Sam, isn't it? I knew he had designs on her!"
"Designs?" she laughed. "Sean, dear, this is not Victorian England. No one has designs on anyone anymore."
"Emma, I don't want him around my little girl!"
"He's not," she sighed, "he's around your almost grown daughter. And as far as I know, the worst they've done is kiss. Awkwardly." She stood and leaned across the desk to make sure she had his undivided attention. "Sean, I'm not going to apologize for having sex with you. And I'm not going to apologize for being mad at you. But I will say I'm sorry that you're closing yourself off like this. And," she added as she turned to saunter towards the door, "I'll be in my rooms around nine tonight if you'd like to discuss my offer..."
Sean had the distinct feeling she did not mean her spoken one.