AN: here's a little Quil/Claire drabble that I threw together.
I'm watching her grow up.
Ten. Her dog died. She cried in my arms for hours. I cried too. I comforted her, I was her brother.
Eleven. She shattered her leg in a car crash. I helped her learn to walk again. I am still her brother, the one she leaned on.
Twelve. She realized that her best friend isn't really that great of a friend. I gave her advice. She said that I'm her best friend now. But still her brother.
Thirteen. She gushed about her first kiss. I try to be happy. I tell myself that I am happy. He's a great guy. But I can't help but to be worried about my little girl. A completely brotherly feeling.
Fourteen. That great guy dumped her. She ran into my arms crying. I went and found him with another girl. I punched him. What? I'm still sixteen, he's fourteen. Only two years difference. Technically. She scolded me for being violent. Then she hugged me and called me her best friend. Her protector.
Fifteen. First day of high school. I drove her there. She confessed all her worries and doubts. I listened. That's what big brothers/best friends are for.
Then I realize. She's sixteen. It's her birthday. She's technically my age. I pluck up the courage to tell her my secret. I drive to her house. I find her kissing a boy. Nice. I fight the strange feeling in my gut and congratulate her. I'm her best friend. I just want her to be happy.
Sixteen and a half. Winter break. She got in a fight with her boyfriend. He slapped her. When I found out I punched him so hard that he got two black eyes and lost a tooth. I almost phased. Almost. She calmed you down though. Charlie scolds you. She tells you that she wished that she had never laid eyes on that boy. I agree. She got a weird look in her eye. She hugged you. Still her best friend…..right?
Seventeen. I drive her to see a concert. Afterwards, I drive to a crappy Chinese restaurant. It's a full moon. She makes a joke about it. She'd always known one of my secrets. Just not the other one. I summon up my courage.
"Claire."
"Yeah."
"You know about Sam and Emily."
"Yes."
"And Paul and Rachel, and Jared and Kim."
"Quil. Get to the point."
"And Jake and Nessie."
She nods.
Suddenly, I don't know what to say. How do I tell her that I've loved her since she was sixteen? And not just brotherly love, either.
"…Well… they all imprinted. You do know what imprinting means right?" she nods again.
"Well….I've kinda….imprinted…..on you."
She leans forward. Is she going to slap me? Call me a disgusting pervert? Spit on me?
She kisses me. Hard.
"I know."
Twenty five. We're getting married.
I've watched her grow up.