A/N: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight, not me. Boo!

I've been working on this for a few days. I'm throwing it up unbeta'd because the holidays are busy enough. I didn't want to bother anyone for help at this time of the year. The story has short chapters—less than 1,000 words—but I'll be updating often. The goal is to have it completed by Christmas Day or thereabouts.


Meet Me Under The Mistletoe

Chapter 1: Bah, Humbug!

Despite my best effort to ignore the fact that the holidays were right around the corner, I couldn't help but notice that Christmas had puked its red, green and gold color scheme and ostentatious light displays in every available corner of the mall. Under the right circumstances, the decorations might have seemed cheerful—festive, even—but today they just felt spiteful.

And I felt like a bit of a scrooge.

For me, Christmas was about family, and I was inconveniently without mine this year. My parents were traveling to Paris to spend Christmas with Alice. I'd encouraged them to go since Alice was alone and away from home. It's not as if I would have been able to see much of them anyway, with the number of hours I was working. Their trip was the best choice for everyone, and we all knew that, but that didn't make the reality of being alone during the holidays any easier.

With my Venti Caffè Americano in hand, I cursed my addiction to Starbucks and made my way back to work. If I was going to stay alert, my body needed a massive dose of caffeine to finish the last six hours of my shift. There were other things my body was also craving, but the caffeine would have to suffice for now.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I smiled when I read the name on the screen.

"To what do I owe this honor?" I asked.

"I think the honor is mine, sir. I was under the impression that important doctors didn't answer their cell phones, at least according to your sister."

"You know Alice; she can't tell the truth to save her new French life."

She laughed demurely and replied, "It's funny that you mention Paris. That's sort of why I'm calling. I was wondering what you were doing for Christmas."

I groaned. "Not you, too! What is it with the holidays? I can't seem to get away from them this year. Christmas is determined to fuck with me!"

"You don't like Christmas fucking?" she asked in an innocent voice, knowing full well that what she was implying was anything but innocent. It was one of my favorite things about Alice's best friend. Isabella Swan was the quintessential girl next door: kind-hearted, wholesome, and unassuming. Her quiet confidence drew you in, and then she sucker-punched you with her dry humor.

She was quite literally the girl next door, or upstairs, if you will. She lived above me, in the upper unit of my triplex. She was a quiet, thoughtful, and caring neighbor, exactly the sort of person you wanted to share space with.

"Au contraire. In fact, I'm not opposed to fucking that relates to any holiday," I joked.

"Good to know. Of course that implies that you are opposed to some fucking, or maybe it's no fucking you're opposed to." The quiet giggle that bubbled out of her was unexpected and joyful, everything that Bella normally would have held back.

Changing the subject before I got in over my head, I asked, "Did Alice put you up to entertaining me? You know I don't need babysitting, right?"

"Edward, you're a grown man. Of course you don't need a babysitter. I just thought since we're both going to be alone for the holidays, we could be alone together. You know, misery loves company and all that crap."

"And you're sure I won't be keeping you from someone? I don't want to get my ass kicked because I'm monopolizing your time when you're supposed to be at your significant other's parents' house or something." I remembered Alice mentioning that she had a boyfriend, but I'd never seen him around.

"I assure you that my invitation has not been prompted by any relatives, yours or mine, or as a means to avoid the company of anyone significant."

Her voice was so sincere and hopeful that I couldn't say no, even though I knew I'd be terrible company. I was covering so many shifts in the next two weeks that it would be a small miracle if I remembered my own name come Christmas day.

"Then I'm all yours."

"I'm looking forward to it."

We discussed schedules and dinner plans before we said our goodbyes. By the time we'd finished, the prospect of Christmas without my family seemed a lot less harrowing.

That same feeling got even stronger when I arrived home just before midnight and found a note tapped to my door that said: Meet me under the mistletoe.