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Detention VI

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Detention Series:   I ,  II ,  III ,  IV  ,   ,  VI  ,  VII  , VIII ,  IX  ,  X  ,  XI , XII

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“UGH!” Emma groaned, hastily grabbing a book and shoving it into the shelf. “I can’t believe they’re making us work on Valentine’s Day. Like cleaning up the library couldn’t wait another day.”

Beckett continued with his task of reorganizing a row of books, unphased by her complaint.

“It really doesn’t bother you?” Emma questioned crossing her arms across her chest.

“It’s just another day,” Beckett shrugged. “You shouldn’t need a special day to remind you to tell someone you care about them.”

“Ugh!” Emma complained again. “That’s not the point.”

Beckett turned to Emma. “If you have somewhere else to be… go. I’ll cover for you.”

“Really? But, what about you?” Emma asked. 

“Some of us actually enjoy the library,” Beckett replied taking a look around at the endless shelves and the flying books filled with knowledge just waiting to be learned. “I would be here anyway, just studying instead.”

“You’re nothing if not predictable,” Emma teased, her eyes softening as a smile spread across her face. “I guess there are worse places to be.”

“I meant it, Emma. If you have somewhere to be, or someone to be with, you should go,” Beckett insisted.

Emma sighed, her shoulders dropping. She shook her head. “There’s no one. It was more the principle of the thing.”

“Okay,” Beckett answered getting back to work, the corner of his lip turned up in amusement. 

The two of them continued their detention shift in relative silence. 

“And, done!” Emma announced the second their sentence ended for the day. “Time to go, Harrington!” 

Beckett shelved one last book then moved toward Emma. He held out his hand, exposing an origami rose. The paper flower opened, blooming in front of her. 

“That’s incredible,” Emma marveled. Her fingers grazed the fragile petals of the rose and it closed up again. 

“Here,” Beckett took her hand and placed the flower in her palm. His hand supported hers below as he made the rose bloom once more in her hand. Beckett watched Emma’s eyes light up watching the simple action of the rose blooming over and over. His hand held hers as they drifted closer together sharing this small moment. It wasn’t until his cheeks warmed as he breathed in the scent of her lavender and rosemary shampoo that he realized how close they really were, mere inches apart. He quickly took a step back, dropping her hand. 

Emma offered the flower back to him. 

“Keep it,” Beckett suggested. “I hope it makes up for being stuck here on Valentine’s Day.”

“Thank you, Beckett.” Emma held the self-blooming flower in her hand. One day she would have to ask him how it worked; today, she just wanted to enjoy the simple magic of the unknown.