Detente

by SqueakyZorro

When Carlisle and Esme had enough of Edward's and Rosalie's constant battles, they left the bickering kids on a deserted island while they went to Isle Esme. A whole month with nothing to do but keep from ripping each other apart. M for lemons.

Détente

by SqueakyZorro

mostly a lurker fundraiser

Summary: Edward and Rosalie had shared a mutual antipathy since Carlisle changed her and brought her home. When their bickering threatened to ruin the first real vacation he and Esme had ever taken, the couple decided they'd had enough: they left the bickering kids by themselves on a deserted island. A whole month with nothing to do but keep from ripping each other apart.

Rated M for lemons.

détente: noun

1: the relaxation of strained relations or tensions (as between nations);

also : a policy promoting this

2: a period of détente

Merriam-Webster dictionary

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable elements belong to Stephenie Meyer.

No copyright infringement is intended.

1934

Unnamed South Atlantic island not too far from Isle Esme

Edward

Her long blond hair rippled in the wind, her delicate features were perfectly formed, and her tall, curvy body inspired fantasies in virtually every male who saw her. All I could think was . . . how wonderful it would be never to have to see her again.

Well, that was almost all I could think. I was a man, after all.

Yes, she was, without question, the most heart-stoppingly beautiful woman I'd ever seen. But my heart had stopped long ago. And the expression on that flawless face held just as much ire as I was sure my own did.

She was aware that I knew what she was about to say, but she insisted on saying it aloud anyway.

"This is all your fault! If you would just stay out of my head for five minutes, you wouldn't hear things you didn't like."

I knew responding in kind wouldn't help anything, but I couldn't stop myself. "I can't just turn it off, Rosalie. It doesn't work that way."

"Well, no one said you had to comment—I was keeping my thoughts to myself, trying to be polite, but no!" she spat. "Mr. Edward I-Know-Everything Cullen couldn't possibly withhold his wisdom. Wisdom—hah!"

"Your idea was completely ridiculous! How could you seriously consider—"

"Who said I was seriously considering anything? I was just thinking, Edward—just letting my thoughts flow. And it was none of your business anyway."

She stalked off down the beach before suddenly halting. Whirling to face me once more, she extended one foot and drew a line in the sand.

"There. Pretend that line goes through the whole island. You stay on your side, and I'll stay on mine. That's the only way we'll both survive this month with all of our limbs attached—not that I care about ripping yours off, but it would be nice for Carlisle not to find us in need of a doctor when he and Esme pick us up."

I started to respond, but she raised a hand imperiously, cutting me off before running swiftly out of sight.

I thought about yelling after her, but I decided that would be childish. Though she was out of sight, I could still hear her thoughts, fuming against me. I would not descend to her immature level of behavior.

Her attack was, of course, completely unfounded. None of this was my fault. We'd been a happy family before Carlisle took it in his head to change her.

Carlisle, Esme, and I had settled into a comfortable life upon my return from my . . . wanderings. For two years, we'd enjoyed each other's company and our individual interests, and the appreciation for them that I'd gained while away made it easier for me to bear their amorous activities than it had been before I'd left.

It had been about as perfect as a vampire existence can get.

Why did Carlisle have to change her?

I snorted and started running in the opposite direction. Maybe this island is big enough that I won't hear her thoughts if I go all the way to the end of it . . .

Rosalie

I never asked for this. He hates himself most of the time; does he think I feel any differently about this . . . existence?

I couldn't read minds, but I wasn't stupid. I knew he resented me for breaking up the cozy little setup he'd had before I came along. So I wasn't intellectual like Carlisle or sweet like Esme. I didn't ask him to read my thoughts.

I had slowed to a brisk walk once I was out of sight, and now I wandered my half of the island, looking at the foliage and confirming that there was no suitable blood source. Small trees, scrub, and some grasses provided shelter for only a few rodent-type mammals . . . not a whole lot here. The flowers were amazingly beautiful, but I'd have to swim to the mainland to hunt.

Perfect. Salt-sticky hair, my favorite.

Of course, Edward would interpret that thought as vain, but as one who actually tried to brush her hair, I thought it was a valid concern. He might be fine letting that reddish mop on his head go wild, but I had my standards. As I recalled how his hair fell across his forehead, a squirmy sensation started in my abdomen, and I quickly shifted my mind elsewhere.

What am I going to do here for a whole month? Or should I just go to the mainland and find something there to do?

That thought gave me pause. Yes, we'd been left on this island in a last-ditch effort by Carlisle and Esme to see if we could possibly get along for more than five minutes without arguing, but each of us was perfectly capable of swimming away and waiting for them back in Rio de Janiero.

"But they'd be disappointed in us." His voice was softer than it usually was with me.

I looked up to see the source of my aggravation standing across a clearing. Irritated that he'd managed to surprise me by approaching from downwind, I scowled at him.

"Couldn't you at least pretend not to know what I'm thinking? Do you realize how rude that is?"

For once, he didn't respond in kind. His voice remained even as he replied, "It's who I am, Rosalie. Believe me, I've tried not to hear; if I could block it completely, I would. The best I've ever been able to do is distract myself, but if the thoughts are loud enough, or from someone I'm close to, that's very difficult."

I snorted. "So what? You're saying I'm too loud, so you can't block me?"

Annoyance showed in his voice. "No, that's not what I meant. Why do you turn everything to yourself? I'm just trying to explain—"

I interrupted. "Oh, that's rich! You must be one of the most self-absorbed people I've ever met—oh, woe is me, I'm a damned monster, watch me despair of my soul . . " I tried to imitate his voice, adding a whiny tone that, admittedly, I had never actually heard him use.

He stared at me in shock for a split second and then his anger ignited. "At least a soul is worth worrying about—certainly more important than your hair or dress!"

I glared at him. "Just because you don't care about presenting as a gentleman doesn't mean all of us share the same disregard. I maintain a ladylike appearance."

"Ladylike!" He paused and seemed to fight with himself for a moment. "That's it. You actually had your first good idea in a year—I'll stay on my side, you on yours." He turned and strode away at a brisk pace.

I did the same.

Edward

Impossible woman! Oh, if I wasn't a gentleman . . .

I was indignant. Of course, the island wasn't big enough for me to escape her thoughts, and portions of what she'd been thinking had stirred my reluctant sympathy. I realized that blaming her for encroaching on my previously comfortable household was unfair, and I also recognized in her thoughts traces of the despair I myself felt at what we really were. When I crossed the line she'd drawn and found her in the clearing, my only intent had been to offer some form of comfort.

I should have known she of all people would throw it right back in my face.

I arrived at the shore and looked out across the ocean.

And I never whine like that.

Ten days later, I was reciting Milton to myself when Rosalie approached.

Without offering a greeting, she announced, "I'm going to the mainland to hunt. Do you want to come?"

I considered briefly. I needed to hunt within the next day or so anyway. Perhaps it would be helpful to get away from this island. "Of course."

Together we swam to the mainland, finding a deserted spot to come ashore. Without speaking, we made our way to a forested area and began our hunt, releasing the instincts that rode so much closer to the surface in vampires than in humans.

The scent of a jaguar drew my attention while Rosalie found a deer. I was briefly distracted from my hunt by the sight of her, still-wet clothes clinging to her form as she gracefully and skillfully brought down her prey and began to drink. I gloried in my involuntary physical reaction, which in most circumstances would have embarrassed me if it had occurred at all.

The jaguar's scent grew stronger, and I broke its neck before it knew I was there, letting the warm blood flow down my throat and quench my thirst. As I finished, I caught the edge of a thought and whirled, taking a defensive position. Rosalie stood there, watching me as I had her, and her thoughts showed a response similar to the one I'd had.

We stared at each other, not sure what to do next. Her eyes broke first, and she said, "I'm still thirsty."

I followed her as she backtracked the scent of the deer she'd drunk back to the herd it must have wandered from, heat flowing through both of us the entire time. At the edge of the clearing where the herd gathered, we looked at each other briefly, and I whispered, soft enough that only she could hear, "Ladies first."

She grimaced but accepted the invitation, selecting her prey quickly. I was close on her heels and caught mine. We crouched at a slight distance, watching each other as we drank. The instincts that I'd released to hunt were clamoring at me. I drank the last of the blood, dropped the deer, and ran to where she was still gulping the last of her prey's blood. She growled as I came too close, and the primal sound ran through me like wildfire. I stayed where I was, just waiting her to finish.

The instant she let the deer fall, I ran. My arms closed around her, and my mouth crashed to hers. More than strong enough to push me away, with the remnants of her newborn strength still present, she instead matched my fervor, parting her lips so our tongues could entangle, rubbing against each other hungrily.

Patience was not a quality either of us possessed. Clothes were shredded, allowing our hands to skim across bare skin, to smooth over muscles, to touch the places where we differed. I stroked her breasts before moving my hands lower as I bent my head to lick and suck and nibble. Listening to her thoughts only to determine whether she was pleasured by what I did, I rubbed between her legs, adjusting tempo and pressure according to the flashes through her mind.

She returned the caresses, grasping my shaft and moving her hand back and forth in rhythm with my touch. I groaned against her breasts and thrust my fingers within her, gauging her response. Her hand on me faltered as she approached her peak, and somewhere in the ocean of instinct swamping my mind, I found a perverse satisfaction in the academic knowledge I'd gained from unwillingly watching this act countless times through others' eyes. Applying that knowledge now, I drove her higher and watched her beautiful face contort in ecstasy.

Not giving her a chance to come down, and eager for my own release, I moved my hands under her hips, lifting her swiftly and entering her in one motion. She gasped and then moaned, bending her head over my shoulder so that the long strands of her hair caressed my back as we rocked back and forth. I set a fast rhythm, lifting her and then pulling her back to me until, with a choked cry, I let the pleasure course through me.

Rosalie

I remained still, my arms and legs still wrapped around this . . . vampire . . . who had done nothing but infuriate me since I'd opened my eyes after three days of burning, but who had just ignited and then quenched a different fire within me.

What was I thinking?

No, I couldn't think. He'd hear me, and I didn't even want to hear myself. I did my best to keep my mind blank as he lowered me to the ground. I bent and fingered a scrap of cloth, recognizing it as having belonged to Edward's shirt. I'd torn it from him with my nails in my eagerness to reach his flesh.

"Our luggage is on the island. We'll have to swim back like this."

I shot him a glare, letting him know I didn't appreciate him commenting on my thoughts before I'd voiced them. "I know that. Kindly don't presume that what might pass through my head will be spoken aloud. If I'd had a question, I'd have asked it." Without another word, I turned my back on him and ran as fast as I could for the shore. Of course, he was faster, and he caught up with me as I started to swim. We paced each other back to the island, and then, not looking at each other, we each went to our respective trunks and pulled out new clothing.

Once I was dressed, I turned and walked to my end of the island, still not glancing in his direction.

We didn't acknowledge each other for the next several days.

I kept my thoughts as blank as possible, providing nothing of interest for him to read. I tried to simply reflect my surroundings—the sea, the sky, the windswept island. Since my hair would be a lost cause until we made it to civilization, I spent much of the time in the sea, chasing the dolphins and fish that fled as soon as they sensed me. The island offered only limited diversions, though, unless I wanted to flout Carlisle's implicit instruction that we stay here together. I wasn't ready to go that far, but with so little else to do, I couldn't help but think about the future.

How miserable would I be, spending eternity with Edward constantly poking holes in my mind? My newborn year was over, and Carlisle had said I could go my own way if I wished, but the thought of wandering by myself terrified me. A part of me resented him for changing me without asking my wishes, but I couldn't deny that his intentions were good; Carlisle could no more be unkind than he could nick himself with a scalpel. And I had grown to love Esme dearly; I didn't know what I would do without her mothering me, helping me adjust to this new life.

It wasn't like it was all bad, either. Had I died on the street that night, Royce and his henchmen would certainly have gone unpunished. No one would have suspected the heir of the town's most prominent family. As it was, I'd been able to see to the task myself, I thought with satisfaction.

I'd always been beautiful, but after the change, I knew without conceit that I was stunning. I sighed. Care for my looks had been drilled into me since childhood. Everything I did, everything expected of me by my family was related to my beauty. For as long as I could remember, I had been brushed and dressed like a little doll, trained in polite, mildly flirtatious conversation, and taught graceful, formal movements, all to enhance my attractiveness to potential wealthy husbands. Nothing went untouched; to my parents, every aspect of me needed polishing before it was ready for display. Was it any wonder that I hated Edward's ability to see my unvarnished thoughts before I had readied them for public consumption?

The few times I had suggested something the least bit unconventional, my idea had been summarily rejected. I'd been fascinated when my father purchased his first automobile, curiosity about how this marvel worked burning within me. A clear view of my mother's horrified face when I asked to see the engine stayed with me even through the change. Oil and grease on her perfect daughter? Perish the thought. And college—my grades had been excellent, and I wanted to continue at one of the many elite women's colleges in the region. That time, my parents had not been horrified so much as utterly confused: Why would someone with my looks need an education to attract a husband?

For a moment then, I'd hated my beauty. Unflinchingly honest with myself, though, I knew that I'd enjoyed the effect my beauty had—the attention and admiration, the deference and special treatment, attracting the attention of the most eligible bachelor in town. Of course, I hadn't known he was a drunk who'd brutalize me and kill me a week before the wedding. I sighed. Maybe my beauty was really a curse—it never seemed to bring what I most desired: a good man, children, a happy home. It couldn't even give me a satisfying way to spend the eternity I'd been given, little though I'd wanted it.

A shift in the wind brought a familiar scent, and I whirled and crouched defensively. I realized that I'd forgotten my thoughts had an audience—he'd been so quiet since our hunt, I'd inadvertently let my guard down.

I straightened as Edward approached, a baffled look on his face. "You've never though about any of this when I was around before."

Shrugging, I decided to answer his implied question. "It's not like I want to advertise my . . . insecurities." Uncharacteristicly nervous, I waited for his next comment.

"You don't need to hide from us, Rosalie. None of us would reject you because you wanted to learn about cars or go to college. And there's more to you than your looks. You're a wonderful daughter to Esme, who loves you deeply. For the first time in almost ten years, she has another woman she can be close to, and she's very happy you joined us. Carlisle, too, loves you and appreciates your tenacity, your loyalty, and the joy you've brought to Esme."

A not-quite-comfortable feeling stirred within me. He was right. Carlisle and Esme had welcomed me from the moment I awoke, and Esme had become closer to me than my human mother had been.

"But you hate me."

The words hung in the air. Mortified, I cringed internally, aghast that I'd let that slip out, but I stood straighter and used my loftiest tone. "Never mind. It doesn't matter. Besides, the feeling is certainly mutual. Now, if you don't mind, this is my end of the island, and I'll thank you to stay on yours."

He just stood there, gazing at me impassively.

Apparently I hadn't been clear. "Please leave. At once."

He didn't move.

Edward

I was astounded that, after a year of reading her thoughts, she could still hide so much from me. Shamed, I realized I'd never tried to dig any deeper than the surface, at least not since she'd begun to craft her plans of revenge—which had been almost as soon as she'd awakened. It had been an all-consuming obsession for her, and it made her mind a dangerous place for me. Recently returned from my own vigilante days, I had not wanted to be anywhere near such thoughts lest they jeopardize my commitment to our way of life. I certainly could not argue that her former fiancé and the others hadn't deserved what they got. Memories of the hell she'd gone through were even less comfortable, and I'd been abrupt more than a few times to escape quickly out of their reach, not stopping to think that she had no such escape or that she might misinterpret my haste to get away.

Based on my actions, she thought I hated her. I wasn't going anywhere until we'd reached an understanding.

Words came haltingly, however, and I stumbled over them. "I don't . . . hate you. We're just so different—or maybe we're too much the same." Taking an unnecessary deep breath, I continued, "Your thoughts . . . well, they're not always a pleasant place to be. I have enough dark thoughts myself, and I try not to be too close when others are dwelling on theirs." Thinking perhaps to lighten the mood, I half-smiled. "And I must admit, I simply am not very concerned with appearance."

She stared pointedly at my messy hair, which must look even more disheveled than usual after three weeks without a real bath. "Obviously," she said dryly.

I had to chuckle. "Well, anyway, so you dwelling on yours exasperates me. I didn't realize you'd essentially been trained to focus on nothing else."

"But you're just as arrogant as I am. Not about looks, but you think your mind-reading makes you infallible—no one knows more than you," she almost sneered. The "almost" was significant—she'd done so openly more than once in the past year. "It's infuriating. Your surprise at all this should be an eye-opener to you—just because you catch what passes through someone's head in a particular moment doesn't mean you truly know that person."

I didn't respond directly, annoyed as I was with my own shortsightedness. Instead, continuing from my previous statement, I offered, "All those opportunities that were foreclosed to you—they're not anymore, you know. Do you want to go to college? I mean, it's still early days, you're just past the newborn stage, but once your control is good, you could do it." She looked thoughtful. "As for cars, well, you hadn't expressed any interest in Carlisle's car, but if you want to learn, I could show you. Perhaps it would help if we had something we could do together."

I caught her spark of interest at the mention of cars, and she also pondered the idea of college. Pinning me with her stare, she said, "You know we'd fight incessantly if we tried to work together."

I smirked. "Squabble, maybe."

She tilted her head. "You almost sound like you like this life—what happened to the damned, soulless, self-loathing monster?"

My smile faded. "Oh, he's still there, but one can't be melancholy all the time." I tried a half-smile, and she smiled back. "I can still find enjoyment in many things—books, music, cars, the speed when I run, and most of all, the love that Carlisle and Esme have shown me. This is not the life either of us planned, but you can make it a tolerable one—even pleasant, for the most part."

"Hmm, maybe . . . "

New thoughts were rolling around in her head. Not wanting to intrude too much, I thought a distraction might be in order. "It's been over a week. Let's hunt."

She considered a moment and then nodded.

Rosalie

We swam to the mainland as before, but this time we walked at a near-human pace to the forest, talking lightly of nothing much. We still teased and sniped at each other, but with an underlying humor rather than viciousness.

Once well into the forest, our instincts took over, and we quickly found a herd of deer. I crouched and drank, my eyes wandering over his lithe form as he did the same. His beauty, like my own, was unnatural, but at this moment, it drew me just as much as the helpless human girls that constantly threw themselves at him. A surge of satisfaction rushed through me as I realized that I knew a part of him none of them ever would. Remembering the intensity following our last hunt, the vampire—animal—whatever it was—within me hungered for more. My thirst was slaked, and another primal need begged to be satisfied.

His eyes snapped to mine, seeming to bore into my soul. That he was reading my thoughts was apparent in the way his gaze drifted from my eyes over the rest of my body. Stretching as if his stare literally touched me, I half-smiled and waited for him to finish. The instant he dropped his kill, we both moved, crashing together with a sound like thunder. My mouth devoured his, tongue thrusting and lips moving insistently. I buried my hands in his hair, and he stroked over my back before cupping my backside and pulling me into him so I could feel the effect I had. Recalling what had happened the last time, I mustered my last bit of sanity and pushed him away. He made as if to grab me again, but then he stopped, apparently ashamed. "Rosalie, I'm—I don't—"

I cut him off. I didn't want an apology. I wanted him, but . . . "I'm not swimming back in the nude again. Let's go."

Momentarily surprised, he recovered quickly and smirked, one corner of his mouth lifting in an expression that simultaneously made me want to smack him and jump him. I did neither, instead running to the shore and swimming as quickly as possible for the island. Splashes and movements to my right let me know that he had followed.

He passed me and reached the beach on our island first. If I had harbored some vague idea that the delay from swimming to the island might lessen my desire, it disappeared as soon as I saw him standing, watching me. His wet clothes clung to every inch of him, and I wanted to tear them away. As the water became shallow, I stood and walked to the shore, water running down my body. I knew I must be just as exposed as he was. Shedding my clothes with little care as I took the last few steps from the ocean, I leaped upon him without hesitation. He hadn't been as quick as I, and his clothes ended in scraps on the beach.

Despite the instincts driving us, our connection this time was colored by the tentative understanding we'd reached. Our hands were a bit gentler, our kisses a shade softer. The sand would have been uncomfortable for humans, but for us it provided a pleasant stimulation, increasing our arousal. We took our time exploring each other; his mouth on my breasts made me shiver, and his fingers knowingly delved between my legs, finding pleasure spots I hadn't even been aware of.

Feeling at a disadvantage, something that never came easily to me, I circled my hand around him, stroking firmly. He released my breast from his mouth long enough for a gasp to escape him. Then, taking me by surprise, he rolled to his back, pulling me with him until I straddled his hips. "Here," he murmured huskily. "You want control? Take it."

Realizing the benefits of this position, I smiled. I rocked on him slowly, letting every nuance of the sensation fill my expanded senses. When he groaned and lifted his hips, I decided to take mercy on him. Placing him at my entrance, I lowered myself upon him inch by inch. Then, setting a fierce pace, I rose and fell, retreating so that only the tip was still within me before dropping down to let him fill me. Faster and faster we moved, driving each other higher. With moans and hoarse cries, we crested together, and I collapsed across his chest.

We lay there, drifting back to ourselves. Since he could hear me anyway, I spoke my thoughts aloud. "Where does that come from? We don't even really like each other."

He chuckled. "I think we like each other a little better than we did, don't you?" I rolled my eyes, and he turned serious. "Carlisle says our instincts are stronger during a hunt, harder to fight. I know he and Esme frequently hunt together because they, uh . . . enjoy the aftermath together."

We looked at each other and then giggled, the thought of Carlisle and Esme planning their . . . encounters somewhat embarrassing for both of us. I considered his explanation for a moment. "We're not mates, though."

"No." He looked at me inquiringly. Pushing up off his chest, I shifted until I sat next to him. He, too, moved to a sitting position.

"Maybe we shouldn't hunt together anymore—at least, not just us, alone." I met his eyes.

He dropped his gaze for a moment, and then he glanced back up at me. "Should I apologize? I know I didn't act much like a gentleman . . . "

"No! That's not what I meant. I wanted it as much as you did. I just think . . . well, I'd rather wait to do that again, until I find my real mate."

He smiled gently. "I'd rather wait, too. That sounds like a good idea—no hunting with just the two of us. It might make it a bit easier to, uh, resist temptation?"

I laughed, and he joined in.

After a few minutes of silence, I said "It could help us get along better, though—that it happened, I mean."

He tilted his head in thought and then nodded. "Perhaps, that and the talk we had. We understand each other better now."

I narrowed my eyes. "I still hate that you can see my thoughts."

He grinned. "Your thoughts still irritate me."

I sighed heavily, but a small smile played about my lips. "Yes, probably. I would like to learn about cars. It's always seemed fascinating to me."

His eyebrows rose, but all he said was, "Sure. When we get back, I'll show you."

The next few days passed quietly. We spent most of the time separately, but a few times we engaged in surprisingly easy conversation. Edward sketched a few engine components to illustrate some basic information for me. I also asked him about his college classes, wondering if I'd really like to go and what I'd study if I did.

Carlisle and Esme arrived to pick us up, a little nervous and somewhat apologetic but radiating a contentment with each other that I hadn't seen before. They seemed relieved to find both of us calm and in apparently good spirits. To their surprise, I hugged them both as I greeted them. I'd realized how much I enjoyed Esme's company and Carlisle's calming presence. In different ways, they each soothed the restless, dark side of my personality, and I was grateful to them.

Hesitantly, Esme asked, "How did it go?"

Edward and I looked at each other. He spoke first. "Do we have a truce?"

I smiled. "Well, that might be too strong—I don't know that hostilities are completely over. Let's just call it détente."

AN: This is what I came up with after mostly a lurker gave me three prompts: island, Edward, and a non-canon pairing. The word détente was first used in 1908, so it was around in 1934. Also, John Milton wrote the poem Paradise Lost, which I thought would appeal to Edward. The following quote seemed to fit him:

The mind is its own place, and in itself

Can make a heav'n of hell, a hell of heav'n.

Thanks for reading!