FicWad

(A/N: Three Cheers for oneshots. OOC and AU. Tracker/Emma goodness Flames welcome.)

Disclaimer: I own nothing

"Stupid, Fickle Hate"

"I hate you!"

She spat out, her face contorted into a look of disgust. Hurriedly, she nestled clothes from the dresser into a duffle bag . Her hands were shaking in anger and her bottom lip quivered with emotion. The walls of the apartment seemed dingy and not welcoming at all, in the least bit. The air smelt of cigarettes and stale beer, and she hated it, as much as she hated him.

"Sure you do, love." He rolled his eyes taking in a long drag of his cigarette, a smirk dancing on his lips.

Not him. Namely, he wasn't the guy her mother dreamt she would marry, when she was an infant, laying asleep in a lacy bassinet, swaddled in soft pink, pureness. That was probably why they eloped, one drunken night. And that was that.

But it wasn't just that, how did a girl like Emma Nelson end up with much older Tracker Cameron?

It wasn't plausible, Emma was supposed to marry an attractive doctor and save the world and clone herself so future generations could live under the blissful, environmental crusading reign of Emma Nelson.

Instead she found herself living in small apartment with her 'beloved' on the outskirts of Toronto and she wasn't completely sure as to how she got there.

"That cancer stick is going to kill you." She purred into his ear taking the cigarette from his finger tips, and taking a drag herself.

"Nah, you'll probably get to me first." He said, taking the cigarette from her and replacing it between his lips, blowing a puff of smoke in her face. She let out a sharp sigh, stomping back to her duffle bag on the bed.

"I hate you." She hissed under her breath, roughly emptying a drawer filled with underwear into the bag.

He laughed in spite, shaking his head back and forth, flicking ash onto the ground, knowing how that made Emma extremely irratated.

"And your attempt to make nice involved stealing my smoke? I don't share."

Tracker walked closer to her placing, his cigarette butt onto the night stand ashtray. He slowly brought his hands to her hips and teasingly breathed on her neck, light air kisses. She felt shivers crawl up her spine as his lip made contact with exposed skin on her shoulder and the smell of smoke curled around her head, in an intoxiacting way.

The first time she met Tracker, she had gotten into a fight with him about a matter that seemed so important to her as a thirteen year old and yet ten years later she had no idea what it was about. It's funny how that seems to happen, something so major to oneself as a child and it becomes a spec of nothingness to one as an adult.

Emma had met and made small talk with Tracker a handful of other times when she was with Sean. He was always polite and tolerable and after she and Sean split, she never spoke or acknowledged Sean's older brother again. She never needed to.

Then they were reunited. Emma half wished she could spin the tale of Tracker and her bumping into each other, perhaps literally, then becoming the best of friends for a few months before they finally made love to each other.

The truth was Emma had been working a long, tedious evening shift at some mini mart and randomly, Tracker came in bought a case of Canada's finest and hit on her numerous times as she ringed up his change at the register. Then she told him who she was and his face turned a shade a grape would be envious of. The night ended with hot sex and the rest is history.

Not the sugar fairytales and the hopes mothers have for their daughters are made of, but Emma settled for it.

His hands slipped under her tank top and she spun around to face him, batting his hands away.

"Don't you get it Tracker?"

He threw his head back and groaned, bringing his hands to her shoulders and gently shook them, his brow knitted in confusion.

"No, please explain it to me." Tracker crossed his arms over his chest and raised his eye brows, waiting for a response.

"Track, we can't live like this. You in between jobs all the time and me working my ass off. We can't afford sh-shi-shit." Emma vented, watching him clench his jaw and look away, off to the side.

"Em, I fucking love you!"

Tracker spoke with a suddenly dry throat, searching for a glint of hope written somewhere across the blondes face.

She couldn't look at him, so instead she stared at the floor watching the wind coming from the window swirl small dots of dust around her bare feet. Emma eyed the grey ashes that had fallen to the ground and her angered boiled over.

"I hate you!"

"No you don't because if you did you would of left long time ago, you would've never bothered to grace me with your presence, you little fucking princess, if you hated me."

Her brown eyes glowed, and she purred into his ear, feeling him tense at her breath, "Alright then maybe your right, but I still fucking hate you."

He smirked as he felt her planting a trail of kisses down his neck, slowly making her way to his lips with a rough, messy kiss.

She could say she hated him all she wanted, she knew it wasn't true. She said it because she knew that was what her mom wanted her to say, and that half ass attempt of leaving was also an effort to make her mother happy. This wasn't the man she was supposed to be with, it wasn't the prince charming her mother promised she'd fall in love with at the end of every princess centric fairytale her mother read to her as a child.

Maybe that's why she loved him and their niche filled with cheap cigarettes, curse words, and sex.

Then again, maybe that's why she hated him.

Fin