Authors' Note: Emmett made our last writing experience so fun that we decided to give him his own story. This story takes place about two years before the events of Real Relationship : A Geeky Love Story. Note that this means Bella and Edward have not met, either online or off, at this time, and will not by the end of the story. This story is, therefore, just EmmettxRosalie. We hope you enjoy :)
Disclaimer: We don't own Twilight. Well, we own the book just not the rights.
-- 3 Years Before Present Day --
"Is... that what I think it is?" Edward gasped.
Emmett slowly turned, his smile creeping upwards until his teeth were flashing in a knowing grin. An autumn breeze rustled the sparse canopy of branches overhead, sending a few brightly-colored leaves spiraling into the grass.
"Well," Emmett said with a smirk, "that depends on what you think it is."
Edward's eyes flickered away from Emmett's laughing eyes back to the thing in his brother's hands, hoping that somehow he had gotten this wrong. Not that many people could mistake it, but he'd learned, or at least, thought he'd learned, to always expect the unexpected.
"A noose," Edward whispered. "Is that a noose?"
"Yeah, isn't it great?!"
It was absurd how delighted Emmett looked when he made that statement. His knowing grin turned lopsided, combining with the crinkling of his eyes and the dimples on his twelve-year-old face to give him the image of a hyperactive teddy bear. With a noose in its hands.
Emmett's fingers played with the worn rope absentmindedly, but Edward's eyes couldn't help but be drawn to the movement all the same. Emmett noticed this and laughed, knowing that all the possibilities were flicking through his brother's mind even as he stood there gaping.
"Why in the world do you have a noose sitting there?" he finally managed.
"We're supposed to be practicing our knots for the test, in case you've forgotten," explained Emmett in a superior tone. "Why should I try a simple slip knot when, with just a little effort, I can make a noose?"
"Right, just a little effort," snorted Edward. "You just want to see how much you can get away with. Mom and Dad are NOT going to like you making a bunch of nooses."
Emmett raised his eyebrows. Hopefully the Boy Scout leader would see the sense in his project, but you could never be too sure with those guys. You'd think a little fresh air was good for the mind, but it didn't seem to work out that way all the time. It could also just be the fact that they were chaperoning a bunch of overexcited little boys just waiting to do something stupid. Or, in Emmett's case, brilliant.
He scoffed gleefully. "Oh please. You know that they appreciate it when I put in extra work. What about you? Don't think I didn't notice that when you were asked your favorite number for that game last week you answered in hexadecimal."
"That was my favorite number," Edward answered indignantly. It would be, too. Edward was a little too into numbers and formulas. Emmett, however, was more of an outdoors-y type. In fact, as he had been proud to show Carlisle and Esme, if he flexed his arm one could discern a lump of muscle rising from underneath the remnants of baby fat.
"Yeah, and you couldn't possibly have translated that for anyone," he said, rolling his eyes. "Admit it; you get so involved with your stuff that you go too far too."
The spirit of the conversation was picking up quite nicely into a match of verbal sparring, which both brothers enjoyed, but which only one of them would admit to liking. Edward's eyes narrowed, prepared for the counterattack. "Maybe sometimes, but you do it all the time. What about that last camping trip the troop took? Did you really have to set up that net?"
"I was just trying to protect the camp! There could've been bears around and you know it. Is it my fault that Mr. Gilsinger got caught? He's the leader for Pete's sake, someone like that should always be on the lookout. Heck, 'Be Prepared' is our motto. You know, they really should replace him. Dad would be much better."
Edward smiled at the thought of his father being the new troop leader. "Well, you are right about that, but I don't think he'd like getting caught in all of your traps either."
"It's an honor to be caught in one of my traps. Do you know how much thought and work goes into one of those things? Actually, I myself would like to be caught in one of my traps, if I wouldn't have to sacrifice my dignity to do so, as the creator and all."
"Could you at least make it a rare honor? If you want to stay part of the troop, that is."
Emmett closed his eyes and shook his head, as if shamed by his brother's shallowness. "Dear brother, you have it all wrong. The troop, is part of me." He let an expression of spiritual contemplation cross his features, while Edward's lips parted slightly in bewilderment. "Even if I were to be banished, reviled, kicked out from all of the honored places of Boy Scout society with not a memory of my presence ever having been, they could not banish the Boy Scout in my soul.
"From the day of my birth, I knew it was meant--"
"You're just trying to confuse me, aren't you?" Edward accused, cutting him off.
Emmett sighed sadly. "You seem to be very easily confused. Try studying philosophy."
"Your life philosophy is not philosophy."
"It should be."
Edward looked about to answer, but then snapped his head to the right, suddenly alert. Emmett raised his eyebrows.
"They're calling us," Edward answered the unspoken question. He glared at Emmett, but it had turned teasing. "Now we're probably late and it's all you and your stupid noose's fault."
Emmett sighed, getting to his feet, and placed a hand on his (considerably shorter) younger brother's shoulder.
"Never insult a guy with a noose, Eddie. Let that be your motto in life."
And then they strolled through the trees toward the direction of voice, which was ringing out a second time. Emmett kept his hand on Edward's shoulder, and the picture that this created was an almost perfect prediction for coming years -- two brothers, one intelligent, responsible and sarcastic, the other mischevious, energetic, and perhaps a little too smart for his own good.
--
Rosalie Hale sat on the workbench swinging her long legs back and forth, looking around to make sure she had all the equipment she needed. She finished fastening on her coveralls as she jumped down brightly, ready to help work on the sorry-looking vehicle residing in the garage.
"Ready to begin working on your baby, Dad?" she smiled up at him (although her recent growth spurt brought her almost to his eye level).
"I thought you were my baby," he teased back, before holding up his hands in mock apology and finishing his statement. "Yes, I know that you're 12, but you'll always be my baby anyway."
Rosalie rolled her eyes but laughed good-naturedly. It wasn't hard to accept that, as an only child, she would always be her parents' baby. And, in the end, she didn't have much of a problem with it. "How 'bout this then, are you ready to begin working on your 'new' car?"
"With pleasure." Her dad started beckoning her forward, before glancing at the slim little girl sideways with a twinkle in his eye. "Sure you don't have some other pressing business, though? Perhaps you and your friends have some urgent TPing that needs to be done?"
"I never should have told you about that," Rosalie groaned.
"No, I'm glad you did. It's not everyone that can say that their child managed to successfully roll out the paper with a party going on and people watching. Could you hand me the timing light?"
She handed the light to him while clarifying her late night adventures again. "You know that it's standard form to welcome a new member to the team that way. It wasn't my fault there was a party going on. Besides, we only did their cars."
"While they were watching," he laughed.
"Well, they clearly weren't watching that closely or they would've noticed," Rosalie insisted. "I thought it was a very nice touch to cover their cars so thoroughly. Of course we left once someone started wondering what that was in the driveway."
"Of course."
"Hey, are you going to let me help you or are you going to give me a hard time?"
"Naturally I'm going to let you help me. How could I ever rebuild this thing without you? You know, by the time you learn to drive there won't be anything that could happen to your car that you aren't prepared for."
"I always thought that was the point," Rosalie stated, raising an eyebrow at him in a way that was unusually sassy for a girl her age.
Her father smiled sheepishly. "Have I ever told you that you are really too smart for your own good?"