Challenge Number/Title: 1

The Fall Factor

Date Posted: January 13th, 2013

Fandom: Twilight
Rating: M
Genre: AH
Content Descriptors: Fluff.
Character Pairing: E/B

Fall Factor: The height a climber will fall before the rope begins to stretch and absorb the energy of the fall.

"I bet it's the pink one."

"Nah, the green one with the open back."

"Nope, that was last week. It's Monday morning, it'll be the black one."

"Dude, that's creepy that you know that."

James and Ben sigh simultaneously, coffee mugs in hand, their noses almost pressed up against the dark tinted windows of the office.

"Do you think the blonde one's had her…you know—" James gestures to his chest with open hands. "Like, do you think they're real?"

Emmett rolls his eyes. "Jesus, I don't know. I'll get my binoculars out next time. It's not like I can tell from this far away."

It's Monday morning, 8:55am. The office is mostly empty, save for the few early starters, and of course, as has been the tradition every morning since mid-August, Ben, James, Emmett and I. We all like to pretend we get here early so that we can get more work done – but it's a lie. We all know why we're here; faces squashed against the glass like the perverts that we are.

It all started that summer, when a heat wave swept the east coast sending temperatures soaring and air-conditioner bills sky-high. Of course, we happen to work for the stingiest boss in the history of the world, who insists that you don't need AC, that you'll get used to the heat, and that eventually you won't even miss it. That or you'll die from heat exhaustion.

Ten bucks says the latter.

Anyway, so it's mid-August, and we're all sweating like pigs, dressed in our button-up shirts and ties like the good office workers we are, when Ben comes scurrying through the partitions, his stupid corduroy pants making that swoosh-swoosh-swoosh sound as he powers down the aisle between the cubicles.

"Dude." He gestures with his head for me to follow, and after peeling myself off my desk chair, I do.

"What's going on?" asks Em, poking his head out of his cubicle, his curly hair damp around his temples.

I shrug. "No idea."

"I'm coming." The guy will take any opportunity not to work.

By the time Emmett and I get to Ben, he's practically vibrating in his spot.

"Have you been drinking Red Bull again?" asks Emmett. "You know the doctor said one can a day is enough."

"Yeah, I mean, no. No Red Bull. Look."

He points out the large picture window that faces the street, to a large white moving van across the road. Two huge guys are unloading massive boxes of…well…something, while another directs them into the empty store front.

I can't help but sigh long and hard. The walk from my desk to the window has made me hot, and there's sweat gathering in places it shouldn't be. "So?"

"Wait for it."

Looking dubious, Emmett rolls his eyes, but watches nonetheless.

"So I was downstairs at the vending machine, you know, not getting a Red Bull" says Ben shiftily. "And they came in here to drop off some of these."

He hands me a glossy white piece of paper, a little smaller than A4 in size. "Newton's Fitness and Rock. Sounds like a really shitty punk band."

There's a picture of some buffed up guy hanging from a cliff face, his overly tanned abs glistening in the sunlight. The words Opening Soon! are printed across the top.

Ben snatches the paper away. "It's a fucking gym is what it is."

"Did you bring us here to watch these sweaty guys unload this van, Ben? Because if you did, I swear to God I'll glue your face to your keyboard," threatens Emmett, beginning to look a little flustered from standing in the sun as it beams through the window.

Ben huffs in frustration. "No! Just wait a fucking minute, okay?"

"One minute," replies Emmett, holding up his index finger.

"God. Even my eyelids are sweaty." I know complaining isn't going to make it better, but God damnit, it feels good.

Emmett nods in agreement, tugging roughly at the collar of his shirt. "This is inhumane. Even my ass is sweating."

"It's them. Look!"

Ben is suddenly against the glass, his face literally pressed so close that his breath fogs up the window, and he's probably burning layers of skin off of his palms from the blazing hot window.

Curious, Emmett and I take a look.

On the street below, a black SUV pulls up behind the van, and a blonde gets out of the driver's side, her ponytail swishing around a tight black gym top.

"Holy shit," mumbles Emmett, pressing in a little closer.

We watch, transfixed, as two brunettes get out of the car too - one short, the other impossibly shorter. Both are dressed in black running tights and work out tops, the skin-tight material showing off their slim, fit bodies.

"Christ almighty." I swallow; my mouth agape as the three of them walk up the sidewalk and into what is now apparently a gym. The taller of the two brunettes stops to talk to one of the removal guys, and I can already see from my vantage point that she's cute. No, not cute, smoking hot. Her neon green top shows off her toned arms and shoulders, the tight material showing off her flat stomach. The bottom of her braid swishes against her lower back, her dark hair shining in the afternoon sunlight.

In a flash, she's trotting back inside with the others, out of the sunlight and into the gym.

"Well fuck," says Emmett with a smile. "Looks like I'm going to have to buy some gym shorts."

The thought of my scrawny legs in gym shorts has my nerves on edge already. "I don't do gyms. I prefer to work out at home."

Emmett laughs, wrapping his meaty hand around my arm. "What do you weigh, one-sixty wet?"

I wrench my arm out of his sweaty grip. "One sixty five, thank you. And I have a fast metabolism, okay? I can't help it."

The two of us bicker all the way back to our respective cubicles and the rest is history.

That fateful day was the reason why every morning, at 8:45am, the four of us line up to watch one of the girls leave the gym to do a coffee run to the café next door.

It's also how, three months later, I found myself hanging by my balls from a rope twenty feet in the air.

Thank you to Krystle for her quick beta work.

Here's how it works; a prompt a week, a chapter a week (hopefully). Short chapters. Maybe a few short stories of 8-10 chapters each. I have no idea where any of them are going or even what they are.

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