A/N: This is something I wrote a while back when I was still playing with some of the Twilight Characters. Hope you like!
It isn't that she doesn't see exactly what's going on here. She knows that he thinks her stupid and vapid, made up of rouge and curls and ill-defined lines, but she does see what's happening. She sees it better than any of them and it's so wildly frustrating to be dismissed in his manner.
He snorts as though her arguments are absurd when everyone in the room knows better. He's huffy and defensive and she wants to shove his head into the heart of that damned piano that he won't stop playing. The notes play over and between their conversation, highlighting what he wants to be heard and drowning what he doesn't. It's childish and they all know it. Yet no one makes any move to stop him.
Temperamental brat.
After he mutters, "it was the best choice," for the eighth time, Rosalie loses her composure and shoves his piano into the wall, cracking it in half and forcing Edward to jump away.
"Temperamental brat," he mutters, throwing her own thoughts back at her.
This is how he is. He fights dirty and he never says what he means and he always has the advantage. But he underestimates her, always has. She may not be a philosopher or study Taoism, or understand why the caged bird sings, but Rosalie knows people just like she knows machines.
It's patterns and mathematics and logic, it's the way all the little parts fit together to make something larger work, it's about the relationships of so many little pieces of information, and they all connect, you just have to see how. Edward has never seen how.
"What do you expect to happen Edward? What is your little pet going to do? 'Oh, I've been saved from certain death in a mysterious manner by that impossibly handsome boy….Oh, well! Anyone want a cookie?'" She spits, her voice rising to mimic a young, stupid girl's. "She won't just leave you alone. She's probably half in love with you already. It's pathetic."
"Edward is old enough to gauge the situation for himself," Carlisle interjects. "If he can stay in control and if he says this girl is trustworthy, then we have to trust Edward to do what's right."
Her brother's face is frozen, resolved to keep his temper in check. She's chipping away at him and she knows it. His self-control might be impossibly solid, but his temper is easily stoked into flame and Rosalie has become adept in that skill over the years.
"You risk all of us for your poor little repressed libido!" She says and hears Emmett suck in a breath behind her. He doesn't approve of the way she deals with Edward, but it's the only way, it's her way. And it works.
Resolve forgotten, Edward lunges forward only to be met mere inches in front of Rosalie by both Emmett and Carlisle, their stone bodies blocking him, holding him back, forcing him to stop. She looks at her brother over the shoulders of her husband and her father and smirks.
She can see the question - the doubt - in his eyes. He doesn't trust himself either and that's exactly what she knew all along, exactly what she was chipping away to find. It is the pattern, the relationship of Edward and everything around him. He is uncertain, despite his intolerable ego, and he is always afraid of himself. Her brother will forever fear what he is and what he can do. It was time they faced it, it was time he faced it.
"Reckless, Edward. Maybe not so trustworthy after all."