A/N: I'm gonna start writing short, often-nonsensical, Blackwater drabbles. Whoot whoot.
Jacob Black has been at the Clearwaters' house too many times to count. Over the years, he's crashed on the couch, stubbed his toe on the old oak shelf that sticks out into the doorway by the kitchen, and leisurely perused their fridge for something to snack on so many times that it's as natural as doing any of those activities at home. Although, he really did wish he'd remember to give that shelf a wider berth.
He'd once been convinced that once something became so familiar, that a house was visited so many times it was merely an extension of one's own home, that surely there could be nothing to possibly change his perspective on it. In a place like La Push, home remodels were a rarity – your house was your house was your house.
Then again, when he was a kid, he'd been absolutely, positively convinced that Santa Claus was real. So, maybe, being convinced wasn't enough.
But now... when he looks at the recliner that Paul is currently sitting on, he has to wonder that if Paul had any idea as to what had occurred on that very chair if he would be so content to watch TV on it. Then again, Paul was Paul. If he had any idea, he'd clap Jacob on the back with a grin not even a breath before punching him in the face, Alpha or not. So, for the sake of his cheek, Jacob decided that Paul did not need to know some details.
Suddenly, he's distinctly aware that not everyone in the Clearwaters' living room is paying attention to the latest score in football when he feels someone's gaze piercing into him.
Suddenly, he decides that he wouldn't mind having to reconcile two very different tones when it came to memories at the Clearwater house for something other than that old, creaky recliner.
The next day, Seth wonders why Jacob can't stop laughing when he mentions that their bathroom counter probably hasn't been washed in years.
It's Leah's blush, though, that really makes him wonder.