All Figured Out by 24hourfanfic

Disclaimer: The only things I own are a cool touchscreen laptop and a badass black Acura RSX.

Author's Note: I don't have a beta. I don't have this whole story all written out. All I've got is an idea in my head and time to write it. Some chapters may be drabblish, some may be ridiculously long. Bear with me, and you'll have something worth reading. AH, slightly Olderward, Canon couples end up together but there is some mixing about, HEA, M for lemons and language.]

September 14, 2004

BPOV

I pulled the brush through my curls in one last attempt to tame the mop on my head.

I couldn't let my father know how badly my well-thought-out plan had worked out. In the weeks leading up to my 13th birthday, I had convinced Charlie that cutting my unmanageably curly hair from its butt-length style to a shoulder length 'do would be easier to maintain. He finally acquiesced after my pointed looks during church the afternoon before my birthday. It appeared my birthday luck, as my father called his readiness to submit to my birthday wishes, had started early. And now I had hair that should be just how Cosmopolitan said it would be: short, sexy, and stress-free.

Unfortunately for me, it wasn't. If Charlie realized how much more difficult it was to style my hair each morning than before, he certainly wouldn't be as willing to agree to my next request: a bra. I doubt my birthday luck would extend that far.

As I finally gave up on trying to comb my hair into waves and parted it down the middle in some semblance of a style, I thought about how awkward that conversation was going to go.

"Dad, can you take me shopping?"

"What for, Bells? I thought we picked up some new clothes for the school year, last month?"

"I need something else…"

"Like what?"

"Um….a bra?"

"…."

"Never mind, Dad"

"…."

I smoothed down my jean skirt and pulled at my tank top some more. The clingy fabric hugged on to my small breasts and made the fact that I wasn't wearing a bra infinitely more obvious. Sighing loudly, I grabbed my favorite royal blue cardigan off the back of my desk chair. Though it was bordering sixty degrees weather this time of the year in Forks, my middle school was as cold as a freezer.

Making it down the stairs without incident, thank God for small favors, I walked into the kitchen. "Good morning, Daddy," I said, kissing his stubbly cheek from where he sat reading the newspaper at the table. "G'morning, Bells' he replied, gruffly. "How'd you sleep?" my father asked, uncharacteristically. Chief Swan was known for many things: his bravery, his impeccable fishing skills, his mustache, but his polite conversation skills was not one of them.

I opened the fridge to grab the milk as I responded. "Fine. What about you?" Dad merely grunted and picked back up his newspaper. Just then the basement door swung open and my brother, Emmett and his friend, Jasper came barreling into the kitchen, smelling of their workout session. Emmett pushed me away from the fridge and grabbed a water for him and Jasper. "God, Em, you're such a jerk!" I complained, crossing my arms below my chest. "Yeah, so what?" He teased, taking a break from his noisy guzzling to stick his tongue out. "Jeez, Belly Button, haven't you ever heard of a bra?"

If I could have melted into a puddle of flesh and organs like SpongeBob always does, right then, I would have. As I ducked her head down in embarrassment, I fought tears at the sheer irony of the situation. My father, a man who could pick up on the details that other officers missed, couldn't pick up on the fact that his thirteen year old daughter needed a bra; but Emmett, a fifteen year old boy who was not exactly known for his brainpower could.

I heard the sound of a newspaper rustling and I looked towards my father long enough for our eyes to meet. "Bells, how about I give you some money and after school, you and Rose go look at some new clothes?" Dad said, without looking at me. "Okay," I replied so quietly, I wouldn't have been sure he heard me if it hadn't been for his responding grunt.

"Well, on that awkward note, Jazz and I will be heading out." Em said, for once, making a situation less awkward instead of more. He and Jazz shuffled out of the kitchen, in silence, instead of their usual snickers and bantering. Em took to the stairs, most likely to take a shower before he drove us to our respective schools, while Jazz left via the front door.

I released my chokehold on the milk and grabbed the near empty box of Frosted Flakes off the top of the fridge. As I poured some of both into a bowl, the top half of his newspaper folded over in my direction and my father spoke again, "I know I'm not the best parent in the world, what with my long hours and me not being in touch with your feminine side or what not? But you gotta cut me some slack, okay? If you need these things, you need to tell me."

I looked down into my bowl and nodded, and the newspaper slapped back up. In some odd turn of events, I had gotten exactly what I wanted without saying a word. Perhaps some of my birthday luck hadn't ran out after all.

I'll update as soon as I can. Review, review, review! And don't hesitate to give me both good and bad criticism. It's my first story after all.