Author's Note: Guess who's back? :P God, this drabble is vagueness personified. But I have Economics on Monday. Crappy shit, it is. Pity me.

So I realized I haven't written a good Blackwater in ages, I'm pretty much over Twilight. So I'm sorry if this wasn't as good as the other ones, I've got a lot going on right now. Anway, I hope you like it! There is cheesiness guaranteed, but you know how I get. :P

She's all I'll ever need.

-Beautiful, Trading Yesterday.

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He's dripping wet, the rain pelting down, soaking him through. It's cold and stings hard, like icy needles. He doesn't notice, keeps pounding on the door in front of him.

She'll have to answer it. He'll stay here all night if he has to.

He keeps calling her name, hoping that maybe she'll hear the desperation in his voice. The pleading. Give him a damn break, maybe.

God knows he needs one.

Because even he has his limits; he does get tired. Especially when it involves her.

Avoidance can only last so long.

She finally wrenches it open, her face expressionless, her pursed, arms crossed defiant. She says nothing to him, only steps aside to let him. Hazel eyes are wary as they take him in. Wary and cautious. She won't bring her guard down, not this time.

He looks at her. There's something in him that lurches, his stomach swoops; all he wants to do is feel her against him. Smell her, touch her, taste her... Feel everything he shouldn't want to be feeling.

He wouldn't trade last night or the one before for anything. Not Renesmee, not anyone. What they did, what they felt... He'll never take it back.

If only he knew if she felt the same way.

She roams around the room, pausing at the coat rack, fiddling with the keys, asking him why he's here.

He hates it when she's like this. She's always been the best at confrontations, the pack can vouch for that. Never been one to avoid things, hold back what she feels.

So he tells her. Even if it was just a quick lay for her, a meaningless shag, it wasn't for him. He can't really describe the feeling. Soaring, absolute ecstasy come close.

He walks over to her, needs her to look at him if they're going to do this. Tells her he doesn't know why he feels the way he does, why those two nights were probably the best of his life, all he knows, is he doesn't want to stop feeling the way he does. She can't avoid him forever. She can fake sick, move across the country, flush her phone down the toilet; he'll nag her the hell out of her if it means she'll finally come out and tell him the way she feels.

She's not happy. Far from it. When he's done babbling out whatever nonsense thats decided to spew from his mouth, her eyes begin to glint. Fists clench, and she's doing her best not punch his lights out.

She begins to scream then. Tells him he can fuck off, she just needed a lay. God, does he always need to take things so seriously? She doesn't need to deal with his little fantasies, what is she, his bitch? Some toy he can sleep around with until his leech grows up? It's her business if she doesn't want to talk to him, he has no right to show up saying crap like this, because she doesn't need it.

Her eyes are glinting with something wet, tears are forming. He lets her scream until she's hoarse. When she's done, he walks to her, until there is a finger's space between them.

I love you.

Three words.

She cries, into his chest, trying to disguise it. He holds her, knowing that she's strong enough, that they're both strong enough to pull through this.

She smells like she did on those nights, spice, like cinnamon almost. He breathes in her scent.

Fate can go screw itself. She's all he'll ever need.

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Author's Note: Reviews are LOVE! And yes, that means you Eliana. And all the other guys.