Just a little drabble my midnight-mind came up with. Hope you enjoy it :)

Characters belong to Stephenie Meyer, of course :)

"Come on, talk to me, Edward," I grumbled, furious to be in this situation. Again. His sleepy mumble seemed the only response I was going to get, so I grabbed a glass of (I hoped) water from the nearest table with my free(ish) hand and dumped it over his head. "Wakey wakey, Edward. I can't carry you."

So there I was, once again, dragging a drunken Edward from yet another party after my weekly unintelligible, middle-of-the-night phone call. It never used to be this bad, but then it was as if he suddenly realised I'd always come and get him, no matter how bad a state he was in, so he didn't bother to limit himself any more. I stopped bothering to get changed on a Saturday a couple of months ago, since I'd inevitably have to get dressed again a few hours later. Then, I learned to always make sure to put extra layers on over what I was already wearing, since I'd be driving through Forks after midnight with the windows down in an attempt to keep my passenger semi-conscious.

'I don't know why I'm still doing this,' I thought to myself, bitterly, 'I should just leave him to get his own drunken ass home.' But I knew I wouldn't, because then I'd feel guilty and worry something was going to happen to him because he's my stupid best friend.

Bloody conscience.

I dragged him from the car and through my front door, shushing him every few steps because he'd reached his giggly phase, and I didn't want Charlie to find out any more than he wanted his own parents to find out

Or at least he wouldn't when he was sober.

I'm not sure when I realised I had a routine for getting a drunken guy into my house without my dad finding out. I can't say it's a plan I ever wanted to have. Or even thought I'd need. Yet there I was, pausing on the third stair, the furthest point from Charlie's room that I'd be able to tell if he was asleep or not. I heard his steady snoring, so pulled Edward up the stairs as quickly and quietly as I could. He was giggling with his hand over his mouth the whole time, like a kid knowing he was doing something naughty. It was all a big game to him.

'I really don't know why I'm doing this.'

I pushed him into my room and froze as he fell loudly onto the bed, before heading to my cupboard to retrieve the bucket I'd had to buy specially so Charlie would stop asking why his bait bucket kept ending up in my room. I placed it on the floor by Edward's head and removed his shoes, yanking the covers roughly from beneath him and throwing one on top of him, keeping one to take down to the couch.

'I really don't know why I'm doing this.'

I turned to leave but, right on cue, Edward grabbed my hand and pulled me down next to him, still half-asleep. He curled an arm around my waist and buried him head in my neck.

'Who am I kidding? I know,' I thought with a sigh as I stroked his hair away from his flawless face, and prepared to sleep, knowing he'd be gone by the time I woke up. 'I know exactly why I'm doing this'