"What do you know about kissing, Jacob Black?"
Jacob and Leah were prone to arguing, particularly in her laundry room in the evenings while they were sorting out his and Seth's boxers from the rest of the laundry. She was a good pack mother of sorts, being willing to wash all their underwear, but she was not inclined to touch any of it pre-washing. Ms. Clearwater always cleared out during these evenings, either hiding up in her room with a favorite movie or going to visit a friend. She got so annoyed at their banter; sure, sometimes it was friendly, but even friendly banter always morphed into a challenge. That seemed to be the modus operandi for the Alpha and Beta. Nothing was simply spoken word; it was always a challenge, a chance to come out on top.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean, Clearwater?"
"Exactly what it sounds like," she replied, rolling her eyes and throwing a nondescript pair of jean shorts into the washing machine.
The subjects they discussed often varied greatly but always stayed far away from the forbidden topic – romance. Leah was fed up with the subject's existence in the world, and Jacob felt distinctly uncomfortable around the topic considering his future romantic endeavors would be with a child whose diaper he had changed more than once. The whole subject, therefore, was best left closed. So, why on earth had kissing had to come up today? It was not his fault that today Nessie, giggling, had shown him a montage of images, from real life and movies, of kissing as if embarrassed to actually bring up the subject aloud. She seemed to be entering into the preteen years, maturity-wise, and the thought of discussing kissing with her was a step beyond what Jacob was quite capable of handling.
He was taking the evening off, so to speak, and as he often did on such off evenings, he discussed life with Leah. Today, life just happened to include the subject of kissing. Little could he have suspected that when the subject of why he was not comfortable discussing kissing with someone who had so little experience with the matter came up, Leah would laugh at him and ask that condescending, mocking question. Betas had so little respect for Alphas these days.
"I…" He attempted to prove her wrong and frowned. How was one supposed to defend against such a question? "I know enough."
Leah laughed. "You know enough? How? Who have you kissed, Jake? Bella that one time? Playboy models and grown-up Nessie in your dreams?" He hated the way she sounded so utterly condescending, as if he were a child and she was the rebuking adult. It did not help that the 6'7" child put his hands on his hips and turned to her, mimicking her matronly pose; then she just laughed again. He dropped his hands and frowned.
"Kissing is not about quantity. Kissing is about… quality…" His mind unwittingly went back to a place he tried not to let it go to anymore: the memory of him and Bella kissing and her realizing she was in love with him. Of course, that had all ended up being for naught, and he was quite fine with that; she was a sweet vampire but not the girl he fell in love with, and a little dab of emotional maturity and self-realization had taught him that she never could have stayed that girl, no matter how much they loved each other.
"You're saying it was so good of a kiss that it qualified you to consider yourself an authority on kissing?"
He thought about it. It had seemed like a good kiss. Authority was a strong word, but being outdone by Leah was too much for any man. Once she got the upper hand on something, there was no getting it back. Besides, by terms of sheer existence, he had to be more of an authority on kissing than Nessie, which was the point of this conversation, so he felt safe nodding his head.
"Yes I would."
Suddenly Leah was walking towards him, eyes glinting with that familiar steel of her rising to a challenge. He took a step backwards. Height and technical authority were never a match for that look in Leah's eyes.
"So you're saying," her voice was a husky purr instead of a sharp retort, and he was caught so off-guard that his insides fluttered wildly. At least, he assumed that was why his insides fluttered wildly. She was close now, a hand on his chest. "that your one kiss with Bella taught you all about kissing, that it qualified you to be an authority? You're saying that one kiss taught you about the kind of kiss where your toes curl and your heart thuds and you can't breathe for days just thinking about it, and about the kisses where it's soft as can be and your stomach somersaults when they breathe against your mouth?"
She was closer again, and Jacob's lungs constricted suddenly as her body pressed against his. "About the kisses when the other person bites your lower lip and you can barely keep from moaning?" He felt a shiver race across his skin.
"No," he replied, his voice shockingly stammery, "I guess not,"
Leah chuckled, but he saw less of a glint in those eyes. Proximity had a way of changing the equation. "You don't know a damn thing about kissing, Jacob Black," she said, shaking her head. He looked at her, with her almond-shaped, cocoa brown eyes and her sun-kissed skin, at her face hovering just below his. Electricity seemed to crackle in their heated eye contact. The challenge, always the challenge.
Jacob would probably never know exactly what it was that made him reach a strong finger under her chin to tilt her face up towards his, but once he did, whatever clever remark he was going to make died on his lips. He looked at her lips. They looked so soft that suddenly he was leaning in and smothering her mouth with his. She flew closer, pressed to him, leaning up, arms sliding around his neck. She tasted like blackberries picked in the sun, hot and sweet and ripe, so his kiss was hungry, but hers was surprisingly hungry too. Her voice echoed in his head, and he kissed her softly, then fiercely, drinking in the moment and the intoxication of the kiss.
His hands reached to scoop her up without breaking the kiss, setting her as gently as he could on the washing machine. It felt good not to have to lean down so far to kiss her, and now there was authority in her kiss. Without having to stretch, she wound her fingers in his hair, bit his bottom lip and made him gasp, and her tongue apologized for her teeth's naughty actions. His world spun in circles as if there was no gravity at all to keep him anchored except Leah and her dizzying kiss.
Their hands, mouths, tongues searched one another, challenged one another, reveled in one another until finally, after an eternity, they breathlessly parted. She lowered one of her hands from around his neck to his chest; his heart was thudding violently. "See?" She whispered. "That's what I meant."
Silence fell. There was nothing to say after that. He looked in her eyes and saw sadness, lurking just under the sparkle. He was used to that sadness; Leah had had it hard. Still… he leaned down and brushed her lips with his again.
"You were right, Lee," he conceded quietly, surprised to hear sadness in his voice, "I didn't know anything about kissing."
She laughed, almost bitterly, sliding off of the washing machine and turning her back to him. "I'm sure Nessie will be more than happy with what you do know."
He thought of Nessie and felt like his insides had suddenly fallen out. He wanted to reach for Leah and pull her close again, assure her that he felt it now too, the power and passion between them, the way fate itself seemed to beg them to take a chance. He wanted to, but he didn't.
Because the subject of romance was off-limits for them, and he suspected it would have to stay that way more so than ever, now that it was clear that the subject was dancing within them, calling each other's names.
"I think that's a full load," he said, tossing in another pair of jeans. She nodded and started the washing machine.
That was that, he supposed.
AN: Just a little Blackwater piece for those of us who can't QUITE reconcile ourselves to the belief that Nessie and Jacob belong together. Lemme know whatcha think.