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Title: Tomorrow

Rating: T (coarse language)

Characters: Jacob x Leah

Prompt: April Prompt #2 - Picture of an old porch swing

Posted on: Flash Fiesta - Fictional Retreat

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"What are you doing here?" she asks, leaning back into the old house.

It's late, but they both know they won't sleep a wink tonight, not with the threat of the Volturi looming over their heads. As Alpha he feels helpless, like the abyss that was surrounding them both, was slowly swallowing him. Even the imprint, which was supposed to be the only link in his life, felt as if it were slowly fading. Sure, he cares for the kid, but the chains that were supposed to fall away from everything else in his life, were suddenly back, and getting stronger with each passing day.

"Bella," he half growls, shifting the backpack in his hands.

She raises a brow and moves towards him. Tapping his knee, he moves it at her request and he watches as she takes a seat beside him on the old porch swing. She curls her palm, motioning for the bag.

He exhales deeply, handing her the offending package. He notices the way her fingers brush his and he closes his eyes briefly. A soft heat looms in his face, warming more than just the top half of his body.

Herein lies the problem in his pack. The Alpha and Beta dynamic.

His wolf is hyperaware of the female; almost, fond of her. It's in direct opposition to everything he's supposed to feel.

She unzips the mouth of the bag and sorts through it, pulling out cash, passports and whatever other documents Bella had given to him during their conversation.

"Hmm," Leah muses, though her eyes hold a deep concern. She rakes a hand through her short hair, before she turns to him. "I'm not really surprised to be honest. I always knew she was a selfish cu-"

"Leah-" Jacob warns, cutting off her line of snark.

"What? You don't want my opinion?" she asks with a raised brow and a familiar sneer. "Why did you come here, Jacob? Clearly you're pissed off with her, but of course, you won't say anything to her face. Such a good puppy."

She flings the backpack at his chest as she rises from the swing.

"Good luck, Casanova. While you run off with your baby bride, the rest of us are going to fight – because of you. For you. I may be a bitch - at least I'm not a coward."

He feels the heat rise in his blood at her words. He reaches out and snatches her wrist, pulling her back down toward the swing. She pulls away from his grip and leans forward, a finger jabbing sharply in his chest.

"You get ONE. Manhandle me again; I'll phase and give you a nice little makeover to match my lovely cousin," she hisses dangerously low.

He's not threatened by her, so he does what he's wanted to for a long time. He cups her face, watching as her curious eyes widen ever so slightly.

"What the fuck, Black?"

"Will you shut up for a second, Leah? Honestly."

He exhales slowly, leaning forward, his eyes on her. He's not stupid and does anticipate her to throw a punch or a quick knee to his balls, but to his surprise her body language is surprisingly loose, and dare he say, open to what he's about to do.

"I'm not a coward. And I appreciate everything you have done, and continue to do." His nose brushes against hers in affection. "But I won't leave you. I'm not Bella's puppy, and I won't leave the pack."

"Why not?" she asks, slightly in disbelief.

"You accuse me of leaving you, and I tell you I won't, now you want to know why I won't? Jesus, Leah. You're giving me whiplash, woman." He chuckles as he tisks her, sliding an inch closer.

She places a hand on his chest to stop him from moving. "Don't you dare kiss me, Black."

"Why not?"

"Because you don't get to do that on the eve of battle." She glares as a mischievous smile creeps over her mouth. "Plus, I hit much harder than Bella."

He can't help but laugh as he drops his hand and pulls back slightly.

He can see her point, and he's willing to wait until all of the shit is put to bed with the Volturi.

"Fine. I'll meet you here tomorrow night. Right here. On this porch swing."

She looks at him as if he is crazy. "You're mighty confident we won't be made into pelts by tomorrow night."

"Everything will work out." He tells her, and he isn't only referring to the fight.

"We'll see." She replies with far less optimism as he and a raised brow.

"G'night, Lee."

"Night."

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