This little story is fluffy and sweet. You've been warned, hehe!
Loopylou992 and Alice's White Rabbit are my stars again. Thank you, ladies, for helping me polish it.
I don't own the characters but I still love them! Enjoy!
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~Two Halves of a Whole Idiot~
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"How did they catch us at all?" He wrinkles his forehead in an attempt to remember what might have gone wrong. His face is adorable when he does it.
"I guess we dropped something incriminating," I supply. "Or, maybe, they already just knew it was us, with our history and all."
"It's because we're two halves of a whole idiot," he says with a grin.
"Let's just put it like this, two halves of a very endeavoring person." I try to keep at least a bit of my—of our—dignity intact, but I find myself mirroring the grin and nudging him in the ribs.
"No, we're one complete moron," he says. "Basically." His laughter is soft and contagious. "But I still like you."
He still likes me.
Then again, this is not the right moment. I can't cross the distance, no matter how short it is—exactly an arm's length. I can't now, not when we're left alone for a while in Principal Greene's office. Someday, I'll pin him to a wall and trap his shoulders under my palms. I'll lean forward, inhale his scent deeply, then slowly release my breath against the tempting light plush covering the nape of his neck. He'll shiver, and I'll soothe him with a thumb caressing his jaw, and right before his mouth releases a moan, I will seal it with my lips. The moan will still come, but muted, because my lips will never leave his until they convey my very important message; the message of I love you. I've loved you for so long that I don't remember what it is to live without loving you. I'll die if I'm not allowed to love you, please love me back.
The door to my left swings open, putting an abrupt end to my current mood. How rude of you, Mr. Greene.
"Mr. Cullen, Mr. Hale." The principal glares at us with his small eyes. And, of course, we're getting a detention for painting Mr. Banner's golden onion pink. Using Rose's newest nail polish. No one has a good taste for pranks at Forks High.
"So," Mr. Banner, our biology teacher and former owner of a golden onion, says, a couple hours later. "You've destroyed the award for tomorrow's class." He puts a can of golden spray in front of us theatrically. Then walks to a drawer in his desk, pulls it open, and begins to take out picture perfect onion bulbs. There are ten of them, which he lines up in a straight row over the desk. One last item is produced from another drawer; it's an old newspaper. "It will only be fair if you replace the Golden Onion, gentlemen. Tenfold. I'll leave you to it."
He closes the biology classroom door from the outside. His figure lingers in front for a while, obscured by the dim glass. We hear him pacing until he gives up trying to spy on us and retreats down the corridor.
"Onion time." Jasper flashes a half-smile and shakes the spray can. "Shall we?" He nods toward the desk. I follow him, trying to figure out what he's up to.
"Will you do the spraying?" I ask, and he just nods, clearly deep in thought.
"We're not doing it over the newspaper; it will be too slow because we will have to wait for the paint on one side to dry out and then turn, and spray again. I think we should hang the onions from the ceiling, so we spray all the sides at once."
Jasper is the living reincarnation of Mercury, opening and closing cupboards and drawers, taking out cords, hooks, scissors. I wait for him, unmoving, simply admiring the spark in his eye when he glances at me once or twice.
"How did you know you'd find all this?" I ask when he comes back to me near the desk.
"Well, huh, it's the biology room; of course, I'd find it."
"Of course."
"But, there's a problem. The ceiling's too high. We have to think of something else."
He turns around, and before his full spin is complete, there's a "Ha!" and he's clasping his hands. "There!"
There is the dummy skeleton, with its (his? hers?) two arms in the air, suspended straightforward by thin metal props.
Not more than five minutes later, the ten onions are hooked and hanging, five from each skeleton arm.
"Now, what?" I ask. "What did you say about spraying all sides at once?"
"Well, not at once, of course," he begins an impatient explanation. "Hold a cord between your thumb and forefinger, then rotate the onion. I'll be spraying at it until it makes a whole turn." He shakes the can and uncaps it. "Ready?"
He squats, his eyes levelled with the rows of onions and with my groin, making me feel slightly uncomfortable. The hiss of the spray is pleasantly distracting.
It all might have turned out okay had we used the newspaper to cover my front.
We begin shouting, simultaneously, the moment we see where the golden jet goes. Well, the first onion is nearly perfectly painted, but so are my trousers at onion-level.
Mr. Banner flies into the room and opens and closes his mouth, obviously incapable of speech. Principal Greene flies in too, and it's only then that Mr. Banner manages to utter a phrase.
"Edward, your crotch is golden!"
I bite my tongue, trying not to let the hysterics out. Jasper's body is shaking with laughter. He's still squatting in front of me, then he loses his balance and uses his right hand to prop himself up. He removes it quickly, but now my golden crotch bears the imprint of his palm with its five distinct digits.
I don't know if I should let myself be embarrassed, so I decide to laugh it out.
"Detention!" Mr. Greene cries.
"But, we are on detention now, sir." Jasper stands upright and looks straight into the principal's eyes. He's gorgeous—Jasper, not the principal—trying to be serious and failing miserably; the quirk of his smile sending a jolt of … something, behind the denim, right where the print of his palm adorns my golden crotch.
"Ugh, just finish your exercise here, then." Principal Greene turns his back and leaves, demonstratively.
"That was clever, actually," says Mr. Banner and rubs at his temples. "I think I might have a disposable apron … Ah, yes! Here, and cover the floor. And, well …" He sits behind his desk. "I'll keep you company, just in case."
I begin to pull on the apron.
"No! Edward." Mr. Banner is standing again. "It's for the skeleton. You're golden already."
What, is he mocking me?
"But, sir!" Jasper intervenes. "We don't want to ruin his jeans further. Maybe there's another apron?"
Our biology teacher is a nice person, in fact. He produces another apron and hands it to me. We put it on the skeleton, then Jasper helps me tie mine up behind my back. I jump when he speaks softly into my ear. "I thought you might want to keep my imprint."
And I don't know if he's being serious because in the next moment, he's laughing and shaking the goddamned can again. Pretty soon, our job is finished, and we're free to go. Jasper's in a hurry, grabbing his bag, and I imagine a swoosh of air when he runs for the door.
"Rose and Allie are probably nervous already. See ya!"
He disappears; I follow him out the door much slower. An engine roars, and I see car lights just when I step outside the building. So, his sisters have been waiting for him.
It's a little blessing that the other students have left school much earlier. No one sees me and my golden crotch when I cross the lot. The Volvo feels like a safe haven, and I squeeze and squeeze the steering wheel until my knuckles are all white. My head hurts. There's my golden crotch and the outline of his palm, all dried up. Maybe I'll keep those jeans, really. Maybe that's all I'll have from him to keep, ever. Shit. Shit, I'm an idiot.
I realize my cheek is wet, tear-stricken.
Suddenly, there's a click and an intrusion of cold air into my car. Something heavy bumps into the passenger seat. I turn my head because, yes, I'm that slow at the moment, to see what it is, then I think my eyes are betraying me, for it is Jasper, grinning at me like a lunatic.
"Told them to go. You're my ride."
I feel like I'm repeating Mr. Banner's fish impersonation. Jasper's ride just … left?
"Why?" I manage and reach for my bag to find a tissue or something. I need to blow my nose.
"Here's why," Jasper announces but shuts up suddenly, waiting for me to look back at him. He stills, takes in a large gulp of air, and holds it in. Then he looks at my right knee and places a hand there. Next, he exhales loudly. His face is coming closer, and closer, so close it's a blur.
Until his lips are on mine, and I close my eyes. My nose is running, I can't breathe, and it's awfully embarrassing, and wet, and wonderful.
I have to break it, and I have to blow my nose; I have to. And I can't. I'd better die here, suffocated, rather than break this kiss.
He's merciful enough to let me breathe. He pulls and says, "God," then produces a handkerchief, a handkerchief, and wipes my cheeks and my nose, gently.
"Come on, I'm not a god," I half-whine through a traitorous sob when I wanted it to sound like a fucking joke. "I'm an idiot. I didn't … that you would—"I point at his lips"—you would want to do that. I didn't know."
He taps my knee. "Calm down," he says. "You're only half."
I stare at him, bewildered. "I'm what?"
"Only half. Of an idiot. You and I, we make one, remember?"
I decide he should stop theorizing immediately.
"Can you go back to what you were doing before?" I ask desperately.
"Blowing your nose?"
"Kissing me, you idiot."
He kisses me again. It's all I've been expecting it to be, but for the small interruption, "I'm just the other half."
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THE END
A/N Please please please leave me a comment! I definitely need to know if you had fun!