Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Apr 20, 2008 15:19:26 GMT -5
Title: I Will Make You See
Author’s Disclaimer: I do not own A Series of Unfortunate Events or any of the characters or places mentioned herein. They belong to Lemony Snicket a.k.a. Daniel Handler.
Rating: PG
Genre: Drama/Romance
Story-Type: One-Shot
Summery: Jerome comforts Esmé.
Author’s Note: Inspired by all of the late-night Jesmé conversations that my best friend and I have regularly that somehow found their way into one super-ultra cavity-induced fic. You can love it or hate it. You can assume that Emma has finally gone off the deep end and completely lost her mind. It’s up to you.
He had been watching her closely all day, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that something was wrong.
Esmé had locked herself away in the bathroom nearly half an hour ago, and still hadn’t come out. Jerome was sitting on the bed, waiting for the door to open. He thought he could hear her weeping softly, yet still he was afraid to approach her. Jerome hated being yelled at— it was too much like arguing —but when his wife did it, it somehow made him feel as though his entire world was coming to an end.
But it was his concern for his Esmé that forced him to climb off of the bed and approach the door of the attached bathroom. He knocked first, just in case it turned out that Esmé was only putting on her makeup. When she did not respond, however, Jerome turned the knob and pushed open the door.
Esmé was standing in front of the full-scale mirror in nothing but her brassiere and panties, her dress and pantyhose crumpled in a heap at her feet. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she examined herself up and down, until finally her eyes came to rest critically on the curve of her post-baby belly. Jerome knew that Esmé was more than a little distraught over the loss of her pre-pregnancy figure, although he really couldn’t understand why. In his opinion, she had always been far too thin, and now that she had given birth to their beautiful baby girl, his wife’s figure simply seemed to have blossomed.
But as Esmé covered her face with her hands and began to cry again, Jerome cocked his head and tiptoed into the bathroom. He reached out and wrapped his arms around her trembling body. She felt so soft and so warm in a way she never had before whenever he had held her this way, and he couldn’t help but sigh in utter happiness.
“Why are you crying, darling?” Jerome asked. “What is it that is making you so sad?”
“I hate it, Jerome,” Esmé sobbed. “I hate my stomach.”
Suddenly, all of the joy that had filled Jerome at the thought of being able to comfort his little bride in her time of need flooded out of him, and was replaced by a feeling of absolute sadness. How she could hate something that was so soft, sweet, and lovely was well beyond his comprehension, and he felt ready to join her in tears.
“Why?” Jerome asked. “Why would you hate something that is so perfectly lovely and sweet?”
Esmé sniffled, and Jerome slowly lowered his hands from where they been resting on her collar bone, and placed them on her belly. He felt her squirm a little, and he kissed her on the back of her shoulder. That seemed to relax her, and he slowly traced a heart around her belly button with the fingertips of both hands.
“Beautiful,” Jerome whispered into his wife’s ear. As placed his hands on her arms and slowly turned her around to face him, he felt goose bumps prickle her skin. He started to smile, but it faltered as soon as he found himself looking into the eyes of his little angel, whose face was streaked with tears.
Jerome gasped as he felt Esmé fall against him and curl her arms around his waist, listening to the sound of her soft weeping as it filled the bathroom. She was shivering so much (either from her sobs or the temperature in the bathroom, or perhaps a combination of both), and Jerome held her in a warm, loving embrace.
“Come now, darling,” he said gently. “You’ll catch a chill if you insist on standing around in nothing but your undergarments.”
As if to prove it to him, Esmé took three desperate, inhaling gasps which made Jerome’s heart beat fiercely, before an equally desperate squeak of a sneeze took over. He felt her muscles tense and he tightened his arms around her as she sneezed again, then once more.
“Bless you.”
Jerome saw this as the perfect opportunity to lead his wife back into the bedroom and warm her up. As he pulled back the blankets and Esmé crawled into bed, he frowned at the way she seemed to be purposely shielding her belly with her hand. Tears were still running down her cheeks, and the face she made as she met his eyes was so desperately sad that he nearly lost the battle with his tears.
“I hate it,” she said again, her bottom lip quivering.
“I think it’s absolutely lovely,” Jerome replied as he crawled into bed beside Esmé. “And so I don’t see at all what there is for you to hate so much.”
Esmé sniffled again, right before squeaking into her cupped fist.
Jerome tugged the blankets up around them, not at all surprised when Esmé chose to roll over and face away from him. “Now, do you see what all your foolishness has done? You’ve gone and given yourself a cold.”
Esmé shut her eyes and pretended not to hear a word her husband was saying.
Very slowly, Jerome snaked his hand up around the curve of his wife’s waist and around to her stomach where he rested his palm. This time, however, Esmé did not squirm nor did she show any signs of complaining whatsoever. That seemed to give Jerome the assurance that he needed, and so he began to rub her belly as gently and as lovingly as he could.
“You don’t mind, do you?” Jerome asked, wondering if perhaps he was going a bit too far.
“No,” Esmé replied tearfully. “Not if it makes you happy.”
“It does.” Jerome kissed her on the cheek. “I just wish you could be as happy as I am, darling.”
“Well, maybe it would help if I understood.”
“Understood what?” Jerome asked.
“Why you like it so much,” Esmé said.
“Well…” Jerome thought a moment, trying to figure out the best way possible to put his feelings into words. “I like how soft and sweet and beautiful it is. I love the way it curves over your ribs, and right here as well.” He touched the spot below his wife’s belly button, just to indicate. “It’s so perfectly lovely, sweetheart. I just can’t grasp why you don’t agree.”
Esmé sniffled again, and Jerome wasn’t sure if it was due to more weeping or the cold she had apparently caught after standing around for too long in her undergarments. However, his question was answered a moment later as she began to weep once more. With a sad sigh, Jerome rested his chin on Esmé’s shoulder and traced another heart around her stomach with one fingertip.
“Esmé,” Jerome said after a few minutes. “Would you mind terribly if I did something?”
“What did you have in mind?” Esmé asked, brushing the tears away from her eyes.
“You’ll see.”
“Why don’t you just tell me?”
“Because it isn’t something that can be explained,” Jerome told her patiently. “I need to show you.”
While Esmé continue to lay buried beneath the covers, Jerome slid out of bed and went over to the dresser. After retrieving his digital camera from the top drawer, he set it down on the nightstand. He slid the blankets off from around his wife’s perfect body, then instructed her to sit up and face him. As she turned around, he saw that her nose and eyes were red from crying, but still she had never looked more beautiful as she did right now. Jerome leaned forward to kiss Esmé’s full, pouting lips, and then lowered his head to kiss her just below the belly button.
“Close your eyes,” he instructed, and Esmé did. Jerome then pulled open the top drawer of the nightstand. From inside he took out the roll of red glittery heart stickers that he had recently picked up during his last trip to the Stationary District. He had been waiting for an opportunity to use them, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity as far as he was concerned. He then peeled off one of the stickers, and as gently as he could he placed it at the corner of his wife’s stomach. He returned the stickers to the drawer and said, “You can look now.”
Jerome smiled as Esmé’s eyes fluttered open and she looked down. He thought he would burst from happiness as she smiled, and for sure as her long-nailed hand caressed the spot where he had placed the sticker.
Wanting to capture the moment before it ended, Jerome reached for his camera and held it up. He made sure to get both Esmé’s lovely face and beautiful body into perfect focus before snapping the first picture. He ended up snapping a total of thirty pictures, all of which he would be sure to upload to his personal laptop computer later on.
“We’ll look at them together in a minute,” Jerome said, setting the camera down on the nightstand. “But first, my dear, I have a present for you.”
Esmé wrapped herself up in the blankets once more, rubbing a little at her nose. “Oh?” she asked.
Jerome went over to the closet and pulled open the two double doors. He knelt down and dug through a variety of items— including about two-dozen of his wife’s shoe boxes —until he found what he was looking for. He had worked on it for nearly three whole months, making sure that every stitch was perfect before he dared show it to Esmé. He knew she would probably laugh and tell him what a fool he was for going to such efforts, but he didn’t care. Just as long as he knew that she loved him, then that was all he really cared about.
Jerome had clumsily wrapped his gift for Esmé in yellow tissue paper, hoping she would pay more attention to the inside rather than the outside. With a trembling hand, he handed his wife her present.
“What’s this?” Esmé asked.
“Open it and fine out,” Jerome replied modestly.
Smiling curiously, Esmé pulled back the tissue paper. Jerome watched her blue eyes widen and an amused smile sprawl across her face as she stared down at the item in her hands. It was a stitched-together version of her husband— only this one had green buttons for eyes and black felt for hair. It was even wearing a pinstripe suit and black tie similar to the ones Jerome owned.
Esmé could feel more tears spring to her eyes as she hugged the plushy close to her, kissing its head.
“Do you like it?” asked Jerome, already knowing the answer.
“I love it,” Esmé said, and smiled at him. “Thank you, Jerome.”
Once more, he picked up the camera from its place on the nightstand and then crawled into bed beside his wife. He smiled at the way she seemed to have no intention of letting go of the plushy as she nestled close against him.
With the camera in one hand, Jerome drew his other arm around Esmé and switched on the camera. As he began to show her the pictures he had just taken, he hoped that his efforts (as unusual as they may have been) would be enough to prove to her just how beautiful she was.
Judging by the smile on Esmé’s face, Jerome’s efforts had clearly succeeded.
Author’s Disclaimer: I do not own A Series of Unfortunate Events or any of the characters or places mentioned herein. They belong to Lemony Snicket a.k.a. Daniel Handler.
Rating: PG
Genre: Drama/Romance
Story-Type: One-Shot
Summery: Jerome comforts Esmé.
Author’s Note: Inspired by all of the late-night Jesmé conversations that my best friend and I have regularly that somehow found their way into one super-ultra cavity-induced fic. You can love it or hate it. You can assume that Emma has finally gone off the deep end and completely lost her mind. It’s up to you.
************************************************************************************************************************
He had been watching her closely all day, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that something was wrong.
Esmé had locked herself away in the bathroom nearly half an hour ago, and still hadn’t come out. Jerome was sitting on the bed, waiting for the door to open. He thought he could hear her weeping softly, yet still he was afraid to approach her. Jerome hated being yelled at— it was too much like arguing —but when his wife did it, it somehow made him feel as though his entire world was coming to an end.
But it was his concern for his Esmé that forced him to climb off of the bed and approach the door of the attached bathroom. He knocked first, just in case it turned out that Esmé was only putting on her makeup. When she did not respond, however, Jerome turned the knob and pushed open the door.
Esmé was standing in front of the full-scale mirror in nothing but her brassiere and panties, her dress and pantyhose crumpled in a heap at her feet. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she examined herself up and down, until finally her eyes came to rest critically on the curve of her post-baby belly. Jerome knew that Esmé was more than a little distraught over the loss of her pre-pregnancy figure, although he really couldn’t understand why. In his opinion, she had always been far too thin, and now that she had given birth to their beautiful baby girl, his wife’s figure simply seemed to have blossomed.
But as Esmé covered her face with her hands and began to cry again, Jerome cocked his head and tiptoed into the bathroom. He reached out and wrapped his arms around her trembling body. She felt so soft and so warm in a way she never had before whenever he had held her this way, and he couldn’t help but sigh in utter happiness.
“Why are you crying, darling?” Jerome asked. “What is it that is making you so sad?”
“I hate it, Jerome,” Esmé sobbed. “I hate my stomach.”
Suddenly, all of the joy that had filled Jerome at the thought of being able to comfort his little bride in her time of need flooded out of him, and was replaced by a feeling of absolute sadness. How she could hate something that was so soft, sweet, and lovely was well beyond his comprehension, and he felt ready to join her in tears.
“Why?” Jerome asked. “Why would you hate something that is so perfectly lovely and sweet?”
Esmé sniffled, and Jerome slowly lowered his hands from where they been resting on her collar bone, and placed them on her belly. He felt her squirm a little, and he kissed her on the back of her shoulder. That seemed to relax her, and he slowly traced a heart around her belly button with the fingertips of both hands.
“Beautiful,” Jerome whispered into his wife’s ear. As placed his hands on her arms and slowly turned her around to face him, he felt goose bumps prickle her skin. He started to smile, but it faltered as soon as he found himself looking into the eyes of his little angel, whose face was streaked with tears.
Jerome gasped as he felt Esmé fall against him and curl her arms around his waist, listening to the sound of her soft weeping as it filled the bathroom. She was shivering so much (either from her sobs or the temperature in the bathroom, or perhaps a combination of both), and Jerome held her in a warm, loving embrace.
“Come now, darling,” he said gently. “You’ll catch a chill if you insist on standing around in nothing but your undergarments.”
As if to prove it to him, Esmé took three desperate, inhaling gasps which made Jerome’s heart beat fiercely, before an equally desperate squeak of a sneeze took over. He felt her muscles tense and he tightened his arms around her as she sneezed again, then once more.
“Bless you.”
Jerome saw this as the perfect opportunity to lead his wife back into the bedroom and warm her up. As he pulled back the blankets and Esmé crawled into bed, he frowned at the way she seemed to be purposely shielding her belly with her hand. Tears were still running down her cheeks, and the face she made as she met his eyes was so desperately sad that he nearly lost the battle with his tears.
“I hate it,” she said again, her bottom lip quivering.
“I think it’s absolutely lovely,” Jerome replied as he crawled into bed beside Esmé. “And so I don’t see at all what there is for you to hate so much.”
Esmé sniffled again, right before squeaking into her cupped fist.
Jerome tugged the blankets up around them, not at all surprised when Esmé chose to roll over and face away from him. “Now, do you see what all your foolishness has done? You’ve gone and given yourself a cold.”
Esmé shut her eyes and pretended not to hear a word her husband was saying.
Very slowly, Jerome snaked his hand up around the curve of his wife’s waist and around to her stomach where he rested his palm. This time, however, Esmé did not squirm nor did she show any signs of complaining whatsoever. That seemed to give Jerome the assurance that he needed, and so he began to rub her belly as gently and as lovingly as he could.
“You don’t mind, do you?” Jerome asked, wondering if perhaps he was going a bit too far.
“No,” Esmé replied tearfully. “Not if it makes you happy.”
“It does.” Jerome kissed her on the cheek. “I just wish you could be as happy as I am, darling.”
“Well, maybe it would help if I understood.”
“Understood what?” Jerome asked.
“Why you like it so much,” Esmé said.
“Well…” Jerome thought a moment, trying to figure out the best way possible to put his feelings into words. “I like how soft and sweet and beautiful it is. I love the way it curves over your ribs, and right here as well.” He touched the spot below his wife’s belly button, just to indicate. “It’s so perfectly lovely, sweetheart. I just can’t grasp why you don’t agree.”
Esmé sniffled again, and Jerome wasn’t sure if it was due to more weeping or the cold she had apparently caught after standing around for too long in her undergarments. However, his question was answered a moment later as she began to weep once more. With a sad sigh, Jerome rested his chin on Esmé’s shoulder and traced another heart around her stomach with one fingertip.
“Esmé,” Jerome said after a few minutes. “Would you mind terribly if I did something?”
“What did you have in mind?” Esmé asked, brushing the tears away from her eyes.
“You’ll see.”
“Why don’t you just tell me?”
“Because it isn’t something that can be explained,” Jerome told her patiently. “I need to show you.”
While Esmé continue to lay buried beneath the covers, Jerome slid out of bed and went over to the dresser. After retrieving his digital camera from the top drawer, he set it down on the nightstand. He slid the blankets off from around his wife’s perfect body, then instructed her to sit up and face him. As she turned around, he saw that her nose and eyes were red from crying, but still she had never looked more beautiful as she did right now. Jerome leaned forward to kiss Esmé’s full, pouting lips, and then lowered his head to kiss her just below the belly button.
“Close your eyes,” he instructed, and Esmé did. Jerome then pulled open the top drawer of the nightstand. From inside he took out the roll of red glittery heart stickers that he had recently picked up during his last trip to the Stationary District. He had been waiting for an opportunity to use them, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity as far as he was concerned. He then peeled off one of the stickers, and as gently as he could he placed it at the corner of his wife’s stomach. He returned the stickers to the drawer and said, “You can look now.”
Jerome smiled as Esmé’s eyes fluttered open and she looked down. He thought he would burst from happiness as she smiled, and for sure as her long-nailed hand caressed the spot where he had placed the sticker.
Wanting to capture the moment before it ended, Jerome reached for his camera and held it up. He made sure to get both Esmé’s lovely face and beautiful body into perfect focus before snapping the first picture. He ended up snapping a total of thirty pictures, all of which he would be sure to upload to his personal laptop computer later on.
“We’ll look at them together in a minute,” Jerome said, setting the camera down on the nightstand. “But first, my dear, I have a present for you.”
Esmé wrapped herself up in the blankets once more, rubbing a little at her nose. “Oh?” she asked.
Jerome went over to the closet and pulled open the two double doors. He knelt down and dug through a variety of items— including about two-dozen of his wife’s shoe boxes —until he found what he was looking for. He had worked on it for nearly three whole months, making sure that every stitch was perfect before he dared show it to Esmé. He knew she would probably laugh and tell him what a fool he was for going to such efforts, but he didn’t care. Just as long as he knew that she loved him, then that was all he really cared about.
Jerome had clumsily wrapped his gift for Esmé in yellow tissue paper, hoping she would pay more attention to the inside rather than the outside. With a trembling hand, he handed his wife her present.
“What’s this?” Esmé asked.
“Open it and fine out,” Jerome replied modestly.
Smiling curiously, Esmé pulled back the tissue paper. Jerome watched her blue eyes widen and an amused smile sprawl across her face as she stared down at the item in her hands. It was a stitched-together version of her husband— only this one had green buttons for eyes and black felt for hair. It was even wearing a pinstripe suit and black tie similar to the ones Jerome owned.
Esmé could feel more tears spring to her eyes as she hugged the plushy close to her, kissing its head.
“Do you like it?” asked Jerome, already knowing the answer.
“I love it,” Esmé said, and smiled at him. “Thank you, Jerome.”
Once more, he picked up the camera from its place on the nightstand and then crawled into bed beside his wife. He smiled at the way she seemed to have no intention of letting go of the plushy as she nestled close against him.
With the camera in one hand, Jerome drew his other arm around Esmé and switched on the camera. As he began to show her the pictures he had just taken, he hoped that his efforts (as unusual as they may have been) would be enough to prove to her just how beautiful she was.
Judging by the smile on Esmé’s face, Jerome’s efforts had clearly succeeded.
The End