Keep Me in Your Pocket
Title random, inspired by Charlotte Martin's beautiful song.
Post Breaking Dawn.
I just caught Breaking Dawn in cinemas yesterday, and the moment I realized Meyer had created someone for Jacob, I was like…"PERFECT". I spent the whole of last night combing through FF . Net to see how this relationship could work, and after musing on some ideas, I decided to attempt the moment where Jacob started to feel more than just friendship towards his imprinted one.
For some reason, I'm with Bella, and I don't really take to calling Renesmee any other names like Nessie when her original name is beautiful enough. My apologies.
Summary: Jacob Black didn't know when it all happened around her - throbbing heart, racing pulse, forgetting to breathe, and those goddamn butterflies in his stomach. But it was already too late. [ JACOB/RENESMEE ]
It didn't happened before.
When she was an infant, he held her like an overprotective father cradling his precious little one in his arm. When she was six, he would let her jump on his back, sit in his lap, and always let his fingers rake through her hair and braid them into pretty ponytails. When she was ten, he stood by her side when she blew her birthday candles on her cake, and smiled down at her like an older brother would to a younger sister. When she was thirteen, and officially went to school, he picked her from the gates every dismissal time, and scowled angrily at any boys who dared step ten feet within her. A year later, his angry scowls gradually turned into jealous snares that he never really understood. Any boy who seemed likely to even lift a finger on anything that was rightly and dutifully his was akin to incurring his wrath. When she was sixteen and invited him as her date to junior prom, he remembered gawking at her in a strapless white gown. She was a vision.
And then he didn't know when, or how.
But it happened. And it hit him hard – like a sledgehammer, along with a maelstrom of emotions, when he was picking her up from college now, bringing her back to the Cullen's home, when he would cast furtive, sideway glance at her beautiful hair, her glowing eyes that would occasionally turn to him with a lifting smile, her dainty fingers resting on his lap that was making him all the more conscious (he didn't used to even notice these little gestures in the past that meant so much more now), her pastel summer dress that hugged her lithe frame perfectly – even here, after school, with her hair disheveled and stray strands flying everywhere around her heart-shaped face – she was perfect.
The drive home was quiet – but it was here when he counted the symptoms, and the ridiculous things that he was beginning to feel. Nobody warned him – this never happened before. Not through the years watching her bloom into the person she was today. Not even carrying her on his back while they ran through forests, beaches and long distances years back, hugging her like a big brother would, ruffling her hair like an overprotective overseer –
Nobody told him about this.
This wobbly knees, accelerated heartbeat, throbbing ache in his heart, that fact that each time he would spot her looking at him sideways and smile wistfully that acted as a punch into his stomach. Growing all too conscious of the way her fingers was drawing geometrical circles, and then pyramids on his thighs that made him take in way too many breaths for him to count. The sudden onslaught of claustrophobia that assaulted him, making him aware of how small the car suddenly was, and how close she was next to him.
And she smelt like strawberry.
She really needed to stop doing whatever she was doing.
Not like it made any sense, because he should have gotten used to her touch by now. The way she always used to run her fingers down his abdomen muscles over the thin material of his shirt, the way she roamed her fingers down his thigh and then rested the heart of her palm on his left side when she grew tired, and simply left it there while her gaze turned to look at the raindrops splattering against the car screen window.
Hence, it didn't make any sense. Why now?
He always allowed her to do that. It shouldn't make any difference now.
Jacob breathed, and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He wondered if his knuckles could turn any whiter. She really needed to stop putting her hand on his thigh. He could barely focus on the road enough already, to not want to look at her way, to look down at where her palm, as a momentary distraction from all that traffic up ahead.
She was talking again, opening her pastel-toned lips, and telling him how her day at school had been, how half of the male population in her school were being jerks again. He listened, as usual. Out of the corner of his eyes, he took every chance he could get during every red light, to stop and simply stare. Stare at the way she gesticulated, animated her actions to emphasize her stories, the way her eyes laughed to match the sound of her giggles when she joked about how some girls in her school were so plastic, they were like Barbie dolls, except they weren't as beautiful.
"Not as beautiful as you, I supposed." He blurted out.
It sounded so cliché, so cheesy. So uncharacteristic of him.
But he meant every word.
She didn't look surprised, just accepted it as a compliment like every other of the family member in the Cullen family would throw at her. She was used to all that praising, all that ego-boosting, that sometimes it made her wonder what was real and what was a lie. And this was coming from her protector, her sworn guardian, the werewolf who was obliged to look after for the rest of her life.
She simply leant forward to run her fingers through his hair, unaware of how her closeness was affecting, unaware of how it took him all that willpower to not swerve out of the designated driving lane when she did that raking-hair thing. He caught her appreciative smile. "Thanks, Jacob. You're beautiful, too."
"Bull." The hell was he beautiful.
Okay, she really needed to stop brushing her fingers over his cheeks.
Goddamit, he needed to drive. Safely. And not constantly feel threatened by the fact that this woman was making him lose all goddamn focus on the road, on the thousand cars driving pass him as he continued to snail along, all too aware of the woman causing him to lose his sanity and focus by his side.
This never happened before, he swore. What the hell was wrong with him today?
He usually took to her touch well, casually taking it all in. Like a sister would show affection to a brother.
But today.
Oh my god.
The way she was touching him, pressing her fingers against his cheek. Everything felt so…so romantic.
He sucked in his breath, as she let her fingers drop, to touch his jaw, and then down his shoulder blade.
Fuck.
Thanking some unknown deity for the red traffic light before him, and sensing they would be stuck in this jam for quite a couple of minutes, he finally turned to her, and grabbed her fingers to cease her motion.
"God, do you ever shut up, Renesmee?" He said, not seriously, his eyes meeting hers.
She was arresting him on the spot, rooting him. He found it hard to even look ahead at the traffic anymore. He could care less about the cars honking him from all corners. Those drivers and their patience could wait. Somethings mattered more right now.
She cocked her head gently to one side, eyebrows arching. Her eyes never stopped smiling, along with her unfaltering smile that seemed so ethereal, it made the rainlight shining through the window screen falling on her face unreal.
Breathe, man, breathe.
Shortage of breath, inability to drive, sanity down the drain, hormones in overdrive, guts clenching, stomach in knots…what was this? Butterflies in the pit of his stomach? Blood coursing like mad through his veins? This wasn't something he was used to. Not even around Bella had he ever felt like this before – like…like a ten year old boy who had just met his first crush and was acting like a little kid in almost nervous breakdown at the object of his infatuation.
So fucking smitten, so fucking in love.
Like a whoosh of wind just knocked out of him, he grabbed her fingers, and didn't let them go.
Her eyes entranced him.
Cars were beginning to honk in the distance.
"The traffic light's turned green, sweetheart." She told him gently.
Sweetheart. How did something he was so used to hearing roll from her lips now sounded so…endearing, affectionate…different? Like she was branding him as hers, her possession? God, she could ask him to sail the seven seas and climb the highest mountains now, and he knew he would agree in one second only if she asked.
"I know." He breathed. Reminded himself to, anyway. In reality, he could care less.
She touched her palm to his jaw. Again.
"And the cars behind are..." She laughed abit. He dared anyone else to look any prettier, any more gorgeous than this angel before him now. "They're getting abit impatient."
"I could care."
He meant it.
And when she met his eyes again, leant forward, and rested her forehead against his, he didn't know how it happened. But it happened.
He didn't really know how it all started to change like that.
To see her more than as a friend, to feel more than just the urge to protect her fiercely like a brother, to feel more than just needing to see her through her dangers, her childhood years, through school. To want to be with her for the rest of eternity more than just as a companion, more than just as a brotherly figure, more than just anything. To feel this much, this intensely for anyone – it was crazy. He didn't know it if was possible. Nothing with being around Bella ever came close to this.
Edward never told him the change, the transformation, the moment, that when it happened, would be as powerful as…this.
Nobody warned him.
It was raining like crazy around them. The raindrops were splattering way too noisy on the windscreen. The windshield wipers were making too much swishing noise for anyone's comfort. The honking cars weren't helping. The goddamn traffic lights were changing colors way too frequent now.
Doesn't matter. Nothing mattered.
Throbbing heart. Pulsing veins. Butterfles in his stomach. Forgetting to breathe. Feeling like an array of emotions had just been punched into his gut, twisting it and clenching it until he could barely think straight, coherent thoughts.
…Not with her looking at up him like that, and smiling, like she finally knew what she had done to him already.
Too late.
"Jacob?" Her eyes were alit, aglow with mirth.
"Shut up." He growled, not harshly.
…And proceeded to remedy the situation of her talking way too much, by bending his head towards her, his arm letting go of the steering wheel and coming around her tiny waist and pulling her against him, closing the distance.
Fuck the cars and traffic lights. They could wait.
This was forever.
FIN
Sink your teeth in to the taste of me
& squeeze hard
Till we can feel me splitting
Please baby, keep me in your pocket.