A/N: So, this is straight up crack-fic. There's no plot and no point; it's just (hopefully) funny. It was a bunny that attacked me while writing Riding the Fence and seemed like a good palate cleanser after the heavy drama and angst of that story.
Thanks to Kas90 for beta'ing, and Sammielynnsmom and KrisScott for pre-reading. (They all said they laughed, so blame them for encouraging this foolishness.)
Please let me know what you think. Who knows, if enough people find this giggle-worthy, maybe I'll add another chapter! ~Kimberly
Cops and Bobbers
"So, I'm going to just leave those boxes in your old room. Do you think you and Edward will be able to go through them this weekend? Your mom and I won't be here. I'm driving up the coast with some of the guys for an overnight fishing trip, and she's got a yoga detox retreat or some hippie crap like that," my dad, Charlie, rambled. His voice was momentarily garbled through the phone as I drove under an overpass and I missed what he said next, but it didn't matter since this wasn't the first, or even tenth, time we'd had this exact conversation.
Charlie was eager to have the rest of my stuff cleared out of their attic where it had been stored since I left for college six years ago. Edward and I had finally bought a house last month, a beautiful bungalow in one of the historic neighborhoods of Seattle, and now had plenty of storage space.
I rolled my eyes at his question. He'd been hounding us since the wedding last year to move this stuff, but there was no way to fit anything else into the tiny one bedroom apartment we had been living in. "Yes, Dad, for the millionth time, we'll be there this weekend to go through it. You act like you're tripping over the stuff at every turn! There can't possibly be that much," I said with an exasperated huff.
"You'd be surprised, Bella. Now you guys have your own attic to store the junk in if you want to keep it. Your mom and I want to use our attic for..." he paused as if he'd said too much, before clearing his throat. "Well, let's just say that we have special plans for the attic," he finished cryptically.
I let the comment pass, afraid of what they could possibly be planning. Something kinky and screwed up, no doubt. My parents had always been...free...about their physical love for each other. I can't even begin to count the number of times I'd walked in on them going at it like rabbits when I lived at home. No family holiday gathering was complete without an eyeful of Dad's pasty white ass.
It got to the point that it was just better for both my friends and my parents if sleepovers were spent at other people's houses. No one wanted to catch their friend's parents, much less the Forks Chief of Police, mid-coitus on the kitchen counter when they haplessly wandered in for a glass of water in the middle of the night.
My best friend, Alice, was the only one of my friends who insisted on staying at my house. She always said she thought it was amazing that my parents were still so into each other after being married for so long. I personally thought she just had a crush on my dad...at least I was going to pretend it was my dad. You never could tell with Alice.
As soon as it was confirmed - again - that Edward and I would in fact be coming to Forks the following weekend, my dad and I said our goodbyes. I sat my phone down in the console beside me, turning my full attention back to the traffic, which was rapidly building on the highway. Finally, thirty minutes later, I pulled my car onto the driveway right beside Edward's car and made my way inside our house.
Our house. I really loved the sound of that.
"Babe? I'm home!" I called out.
"In the kitchen!"
I slipped off my shoes and hung my bag on the hook by the front door before moving through the living room to the kitchen. Edward was hastily stirring something in a pot while quietly repeating the next step out loud as he read from the cookbook beside him. Kissing him on the cheek, I leaned over the pot trying to figure out what it was, but it just looked like sauce to me. He was the cook in the family - I burned water.
"Smells amazing in here," I complimented him.
He threw me a quick, distracted smile before turning back to the stove. I learned a long time ago not to take that personally, knowing that he was trying to concentrate on what he was doing. Honestly, though, he could have told me he needed to perform ritual sacrifices to the kitchen gods and I would have offered to go buy the goat. He fed me; I wasn't complaining about his methods.
"Ten minutes until it's ready. Why don't you go change, and I'll have it on the table when you're done?" he sweetly offered.
I hummed my agreement, leaving the kitchen and glad he was in a good mood. I could only hope that he stayed in a good mood after I told him about the conversation I had with my dad.
After we'd eaten the amazing food and cleared the dishes away, we settled onto the couch. Now that he was no longer cooking, his attention was wholly focused on me, pulling me to lay my head on his lap where he started combing through my hair with his fingers. I could only indulge in a few minutes of the relaxing sensation before I knew I had to speak or else risk falling asleep right there.
"So, uh, I talked to my dad this afternoon," I began.
"Yeah?"
"Um...he wants us to go by this weekend and clear out the rest of my stuff," I rushed out, hoping that maybe if I just spoke quickly he would agree without a fight, not really knowing what he agreed to. Of course, that didn't work out for me at all. Edward's body tensed and his fingers stilled in my hair.
"Bella," he began, but I cut him off.
"Edward, it's been two months, don't you think we can let it go and move on? They don't even know you were there. I get that you're embarrassed, but this is just getting ridiculous. So you heard my parents having sex, so has half of Forks, big deal!"
"Not just heard them, dammit! I was trapped in the fucking bathroom for an hour while they screwed against the door. And the things your dad kept saying to your mom..." he trailed off, shuddering.
I chose not to point out that it was twenty minutes tops, since I had gone looking for him when he didn't come back to bed. We had had this conversation several times and neither of our positions had changed. "Fine, so we'll just avoid staying there for the rest of our lives, then. I'm sure they won't notice that!" I retorted exasperatedly.
He didn't respond right away, so I decided to try a different angle. "I really don't want to have to drive back the same day; that's over six hours in the car. But if you're really going to refuse to stay there, you at least have to tell me why it was more disturbing than usual. Maybe if I actually understood, it would be easier to keep making excuses to them."
"Uh-uh, no way! You say you want to know, but I know you, Bella - the minute I actually tell you and you have that image in your head, you are going to turn around and blame me for needing brain bleach!"
I was about to make a snarky come-back, keying up for some hot make-up sex after we finished arguing, when something occurred to me that completely pulled the wind from my sails.
"My parents aren't even going to be there this weekend," I admitted, sheepishly.
Edward gave me a calculating once-over, like he thought I might have been trying to trick him. "Are you sure?"
I rolled my eyes. "No, I thought I'd lie about it because I could totally get away with that - there's no way you'd notice them in their own home."
He narrowed his eyes at me, pursing his lips in annoyance.
"Fine, yes, I'm sure! Charlie's got a fishing trip to spend some time rekindling the three-way bro-mance with Billy and Harry, and Renee's going to go smoke pot in the woods."
I wasn't sure whether it was the multiple reassurances that my parents wouldn't be home or the blow job, but either way, I finally got Edward to stop whining and agree to come with me.
~*~*C&B*~*~
Late Saturday morning, we pulled up to my parents' house, both of their vehicles absent from the driveway, as promised. Edward and I were both dressed up in ratty clothes, ready to get right to work sorting and tossing; there was no way in hell we were going to get all that shit back to Seattle in the back of the car. After using my key to let us in, we headed to the kitchen, where we found a note from my dad sitting on the kitchen table with our names on it. The first part was in shouty-caps, triple underlined and enough exclamation points to put a twelve year old girl to shame.
!STAY OUT OF THE ATTIC!
"I feel like he's trying to tell us something. Are we supposed to stay out of the attic?" Edward asked sarcastically.
"I don't know. I wish he would just come out and say what he means without all this beating around the bush."
Edward snickered when I said "beating" and "bush" in the same sentence, likely because he was really a thirteen year old boy on the inside.
I playfully elbowed him in the ribs, trying not to laugh with him. "You know, it never would have occurred to me to go up there before, but it's like telling someone not to press the red button, you just can't help but want to now that it's forbidden."
"I'm not going," Edward said in a panic. "Who the hell knows what he's got up there."
"Yeah, I'm sure it's where he keeps the whips and chains," I said, rolling my eyes.
Edward nodded solemnly. "It wouldn't surprise me."
The rest of the note was just Dad once again reminding us that they would be gone until tomorrow afternoon and making sure we didn't leave any of the boxes here. Renee's contribution to the whole endeavor was a small scribble telling us where the clean sheets and spot cleaners were, should our "intense passion lead us to express our love for one another" while we were there. I was sure Charlie was thrilled about that one.
"Did your mom just tell us to have sex wherever we want in their house, as long as we clean up after ourselves?" Edward asked, incredulously.
"Yes, yes she did," I confirmed.
"Jesus Christ," he muttered, scrubbing his hands over his face before stalking off towards my old bedroom.
I followed right behind him, stepping inside the bedroom after he opened the door, surveying the space. It looked like it did when I lived here, except my posters and cork board were missing, and the only things on the walls were the occasional print of a random pastoral scene, obviously some of Renee's garage sale finds. Well, there were also fifteen cardboard boxes in the middle of the floor that were new, too. Apparently, Charlie wasn't kidding when he said there was a lot of stuff. Something told me that Renee had tried to pawn off her pack-rat tendencies on me, under the guise of 'saving' this shit in case I wanted it.
We started with the boxes that I recognized, the ones I packed myself, and the ones most likely to contain stuff we'd actually take back with us. The first four were easy, going back to Seattle as-is, filled with old pictures and year books. The next box was full of all my old stuffed animals, so I passed it over to Edward, telling him to just keep anything that looked like it might be salvageable to pass on to our own kids, otherwise to toss them.
I opened another box, discovering what might possibly have been every single school paper I'd ever done. Sighing, I started sorting, unable to just throw the whole thing away in the off-chance that there was something I wanted to keep. What could I say? I was my mother's daughter. At least I recognized that I couldn't keep it all.
I was lost in my own little world, the pencil covered sheets and pages bringing back fond, and not so fond, memories of my thirteen years spent in the Forks school system, when Edward suddenly let out an ear-piercing scream and threw something furry across the room, while simultaneously scrambling back across the room until his back hit the wall. Of course, my husband acting like the lead actress in a horror flick alerted me that there was a potential problem, so I jumped up and ran over to him.
He was breathing hard, his eyes wild with adrenaline and fear, and I was freaking out because he was so freaked out. "There was...a rat...or something...in that box. It was small and furry and...not a stuffed animal," he panted out.
"What the hell was a rat doing in a box of stuffed animals?" I asked, horrified that my poor babies had been defiled by some nasty, vile little thing. I mean, sure they were going to the landfill, but still, I would never have let a rat eat them - what kind of mother did you think I was?
"Shhhh," he rudely shushed me. I was just about to tell him that I didn't like shushers when he continued, "I'm listening for scurrying."
And then all I could hear was Elmer Fudd saying, "Be vewy, vewy quiet. I'm hunting wat!" You know, instead of wabbit. I squinted my left eye and tilted my head, examining Edward from the side. "You'd look hot in a hunting cap."
"What...I...do I even want to know?" he whispered.
"Eh, probably not," I conceded. "So, what did it look like?"
"The rat? I didn't get a good look at it; I just saw a white pointy face and gray fur."
White face and gray fur...white face and gray fur...why does that sound familiar? Oh!
"Did it move?" I asked him.
"Where? Did you hear it?" he yelled, forcing his body closer to the wall.
"Not right now," I said, rolling my eyes. "In the box. Did it move in the box?"
"I don't think so. I think maybe I startled it and it was stunned or something."
I walked across the room, evading Edward's hand when he tried to grab my arm to stop me.
"Where are you going?" he hissed at me.
I walked right over to where he had thrown the 'rat', feeling behind the night table and finding exactly what I was looking for. I picked up the fuzzy animal in my arms, cradling it like I did when I was a kid, stroking it's fur.
"Bella, what the ever-loving-fuck is that?"
"This is Mr. Fuzzywuzzykins."
He looked at me horrified. "You named that Mr. Fuzzywuzzykins?"
"I was five, Edward. That's a perfectly acceptable name for a five-year-old."
"No, I mean, why did your parents give a five year old a rat to play with?"
"It's not a rat. It's an opossum. And they gave it to me because it was the only thing I wanted for Christmas."
"So your dad went out, shot an opossum and had it stuffed for you?"
"No," I scoffed. "At least, I don't think so."
"What do you mean, you don't think so? How do you not know whether or not your parents gave you road-kill for Christmas?"
"Again, I was five! I said I wanted a real-looking opossum, I got a real-looking opossum. As far as I was concerned it was made in a workshop in the north pole by tiny toy-makers and delivered by a fat man in a red suite. Why would I have asked questions about its genesis?"
He shoved his fingers through his hair, tugging it in exasperation. "Fine, whatever. That thing is not coming back with us, though; it's just creepy," he said, still sounding keyed up and stressed from the scare earlier.
I sighed and set the toy on the bed, far away from the garbage bag. I thought he was being a big baby about it. Yeah, on the one hand it was a possibly dead opossum, so there might have been a small creep factor. But, on the other hand, it was a dead opossum; it wasn't like it was going to attack him in the middle of the night.
Edward eyed the opossum warily but went back to work, and we managed to make it through the rest of the boxes without incident. He was tying up the last garbage bag, and I had just finished breaking down the last box when I realized I was missing something - the box that stored all the small, insignificant things from when Edward and I were first dating, movie ticket stubs, a bottle cap, that kind of thing.
"Hey, did you see a small box? It's like about this big," I said, indicating the size with my hands.
"It would have hand random looking junk in it, but it's really important."
He shook his head. "No, I think we went through everything that was here. Are you sure you didn't already take it to Seattle?"
"Yeah, I was almost positive it was here. Hmmm..." I chewed on my lower lip, closing my eyes, trying to think about where it could be. Finally, I decided the only other place that it could be would be the last place I saw it. "We're going to have to go up to the attic to look for it. I know Charlie said to stay out, but I guess he should have double checked he brought everything before he said that."
"I don't know, Bella. I think we should ask them to look for it when they get home. I really don't want to go up there," Edward said, hesitantly.
"I'm not waiting until they get around to it. I need that one; it's really the only box I care about, and I don't want to go home without it." All that I needed was to stamp my foot and the image of the petulant child would have been complete.
"Bella..." he started.
"Forget it. I'll just get it myself. I'll be back in a minute."
I walked out to the hallway, reaching above me for the cord that lowered the attic stairs. Once they were down, I climbed them, blindly reaching in to the dark space overhead for the light switch on the floor by the opening.
As I made my way into the attic, I glanced around, immediately noticing that my parents had cleared out all the boxes, but now there was all sorts of weird stuff. A bed - how the fuck did they get a bed up here? A clothing rack with a weird assortment of clothes. A video camera. A shelf with what looked like every sex toy known to man, including a disturbing assortment of whips...
You know that moment when you encounter a situation that's so far beyond what you expect to see that you can see the parts but the whole doesn't make any sense? Yeah, I wished I could have stayed there. Because the shit in front of me was fucked up beyond words. My brain kept trying to put it all together and draw conclusions, and I kept trying to distract it to avoid those same conclusions.
But fighting with your brain was not only a losing battle, but it was probably a clinical definition of insanity. And once my brain had come to the conclusion that my parents were filming some kind of sex-tape, my mouth immediately formed the only coherent thought possible in that moment. "What in the name of all that is holy?" I yelled.
Edward's head popped up from the stairwell almost immediately, and I could hear him scrambling up the rest of the stairs as quickly as he could. I guessed he'd been waiting closer to the attic than I had assumed.
"What? What is it?" he yelled at me in a panic.
I shook my head in a two-prong effort to reassure Edward that there wasn't an opossum lurking in the shadows waiting to eat us both and also in a vain hope that the movement would dislodge the disturbing images stuck in my head.
Upon seeing that I wasn't being attacked, Edward paused to actually look around the space. With every new thing he took in, his eyes grew disturbingly larger until I was pretty sure they were going to pop out of his head.
"Bella?" he whispered, unable to actually form a question with so many obviously running through his head.
"Yeah, I have no fucking clue, but this may very well be the single most disturbing thing I've ever seen. And having lived with my parents, that's saying something."
"Can we go, please?" He was already backing towards the opening for the stairs.
"No! I still have to find that damned box. We've already seen this shit, it's not like we can un-see it. Just be quick and try not to touch anything," I instructed.
He looked like he was going to argue with me, but he instead just sighed heavily in defeat and began to gingerly walk around the room like he was worried it was boobie trapped.
I was looking around the shelves by the camera when I heard the sound of metal scraping against metal and looked over to find Edward flicking through the clothes on the rack, their metal hangers making an ear piercing squeal as they slid across the metal bar.
"What are you doing?" I asked exasperatedly. "The fucking box isn't going to be hanging on a clothes rack!"
"They have some really cool costumes! This Darth Vader one is one of the expensive ones, not the shitty cheap ones. I wonder if they'd let us borrow it?"
I just stared at him, completely dumbfounded and unable to form a response. My uber-nerd husband wanted to borrow my parents' sex-video costumes. The fucked-up in the room just reached toxic levels; I had to find the goddamned box. Turning back to the shelves, I tried not to shiver every time I heard him scrape another hanger along the rack and mutter words of approval.
Finally, I spotted the one I was looking for underneath a box of unlabeled tapes. Just thinking about what could possibly be on those tapes was enough to spur me towards the exit. "Come on, Edward; I found it!" I called towards him, already halfway down the stairs.
I had just sat on my bed when I heard the attic door close against the ceiling with a metallic creak of the springs. Edward appeared in the room a minute later, looking mildly guilty; I hoped it was in response to his disturbing interest in the costumes. Not that I would have minded some role-playing, but I sure as fuck wasn't sharing that stuff with my parents.
"So what was so important about that box that it couldn't wait?"
"Come here, I think you'll like this," I said, grinning.
He sat next to me on the bed, looking expectantly as I started opening the flaps. We both peered in at the same time. There was nothing but several DVDs neatly lined up in the box. Where were the ticket stubs and bottle caps? Where was the pressed flower Edward gave me on our second date? Where the hell was my stuff?
Edward's laughter brought me from my internal rantings. "You...your important box was..." He laughed harder, unable to breath for a second. "Your important box was porn?" He finally squeezed out in between loud guffaws.
My eyes narrowed, and I could feel my cheeks heat up in anger. "That is not my box!" I defended.
But he just laughed louder. "Sure it's not, Bella! I had no idea you were so serious about your porn. Important box, indeed!"
Before I could grab the box away from him, he'd already snatched on of the movies out and was walking towards the TV.
"Hey! Bring that back! They aren't mine. We have to put this back." But he just ignored me, opening up the DVD player. He put the movie in and grabbed the remotes before coming back to the bed and sitting beside me.
He shrugged, saying playfully, "I figured since they were so important, we might as well watch."
I huffed in annoyance, crossing my arms in front of me and tapping my foot against the bed. He was fiddling with the remotes, starting the movie before I felt his gaze on me. I cut my eyes over to him, glaring.
He lowered his eyes and put his arm around my shoulder, pulling me to him. "Don't be mad. I wasn't trying to upset you," he said, obviously feeling contrite.
I sighed, feeling most of the anger leave me. It really was a stupid thing to get pissed over. When his nose nuzzled into my neck, I giggled softly, and he knew he was forgiven. I could feel his smile against my skin.
"I can turn it off if you want."
The mention of the movie caused my eyes to flick to the screen where two obviously-well-built men dressed in black were jimmying the lock on the front door of a house. The camera panned inside to a scantily dressed woman was laying on the couch, touching herself. I felt myself flush again, this time it definitely wasn't from anger.
"Umm, I guess we can watch...for just a minute," I conceded. Edward smirked at me before he situated his legs on either side of my body so that I was leaning back against his chest, and his hands trailed lightly up and down my thighs.
"What's this one called?" I asked.
"Cops and Bobbers."
I laughed at the stupidity of the title, and we settled in to watch some cheesy porn.
On screen, the guys had managed to get into the house and were now standing off to the side watching the woman as she moaned loudly, writhing in pleasure, still touching herself. One of the guys pulled his cock out and started pumping it. The woman's eyes snapped open as she realized she wasn't alone any longer. Only in porn would the woman's reaction be to lick her lips and saunter over to the guys instead of screaming her fool head off.
But I really didn't have time to think too hard about her unrealistic actions because Edward's hands had found their way under my shirt and were currently cupping my breasts, running his finger tips over my hard nipples. I squirmed slightly in his lap from the sensation, my ass bumping against his already hard dick. He pressed into my ass in response.
The woman on screen dropped to her knees and started sucking the guys cock, her head bobbing up and down as he moaned out a series of, "Oh yeah,"s and, "Oh baby,"s.
My vision was momentarily obscured as Edward pulled my shirt over my head and undid my bra before slipping it off as well. I did him one better and shimmied out of my pants. We were watching porn, having sex was kind of a sure thing, might as well be comfortable.
When I looked back at the television, the girl was now taking turns sucking the guys cocks, while she made really awful porn-star moans. As fascinating as that was to watch, it was nowhere near as consuming as the feeling of Edward's hand drifting up my naked thigh towards the apex of my legs.
I reached behind me and began to awkwardly rub his hard length through his pants, moaning at just how hard he was for me already. His fingers began to trace teasing circles over my clit and my hips thrust up, silently begging him to give me what I wanted. Soon, his fingers were thrusting in and out of me, finger-fucking me in earnest, and I was giving the porn-star a run for her whorish money with my own wanton moans.
Just as I was about to come against Edward's hand, the unmistakable voice of my father rang through the room, "Stop what you're doing!" It sounded like it was coming from the television, but I didn't get a chance to check.
Edward had his hand out of me before I could even react and in the same moment shoved me off his lap. He pushed so hard that I was helpless as my body was thrown forward and continued on until I was sitting on the floor beside my bed with the scratchy carpet rubbing uncomfortably against my ass.
My husband had just shoved me off his lap like we were a couple of teenagers caught making-out by my father. Except that we weren't. We were fully grown married people. People who could make-out, naked, without shame, any time we damn well pleased. And even if we weren't, did he really think that throwing me off the bed would hide the fact that this was exactly what it looked like?
Edward had muted the television; we both sat tensed and unmoving, waiting for my dad to speak again. When, after several seconds, I didn't hear anything further, not even the sounds of someone else in the house, I chanced a peek over the top of the mattress towards the door. By that point, I was mostly convinced that it was in fact the movie, but that didn't stop me from breathing a sigh of relief when I didn't see him lurking in the doorway.
I awkwardly got up from the floor, stretching out the muscles in my thighs that felt slightly bruised from landing on my ass, and stood, glaring at Edward. Now that the threat had passed, I was more than a little pissed.
"What the hell? You threw me on the fucking floor!"
His furrowed eyebrows and a look of confusion told me that he didn't even know he'd done it. When he finally realized what I was accusing him of, he immediately looked abashed.
"Oh shit! I'm sorry, babe. Are you okay? I just panicked and didn't even think," he said, sounding truly sorry and pulling me back onto his lap.
I begrudgingly let him hold me. "I have rug burn on my ass," I grumbled.
He kissed up and down my neck, murmuring apologies against my skin and caressing my ass under the guise of soothing the sting. Turning my head to let him reach my neck easier brought the television back into my sight, the porn still silently running. Now there were men dressed in cop uniforms in addition to the guys in black taking turns with the woman, who appeared to be enjoying every minute of it.
The guy that was currently pounding into her had only dropped his pants, the uniform shirt just shoved up his stomach. The camera was focused mainly on the action, but briefly moved to capture the guys face that was screwed up in a look of intense...something, it might have been pleasure or it might have been that he was constipated, it was hard to tell. There was something familiar about him that I couldn't place and I stared at him intently, trying to figure out why I thought I knew him.
Edward must have noticed that I wasn't paying attention to what he was doing to my body, because he pulled back. "Bella?"
"Huh?"
"Is everything okay? You're focusing awfully hard on the television."
"Um, that guy...the one with the dark brown hair? He looks like someone I know, but I can't figure out who, and it's making me crazy."
He laughed heartily. "You think you know a porn star from the '80s? Is there something I should know?" he teased.
"No, really! Look at him, doesn't he look familiar?" I insisted.
Edward turned his attention to the movie, obviously just to humor me, but the gasp that left his mouth was anything but funny. "Oh, fuck! Yeah, yeah, I would say you know him, Bella," he said with a shudder.
"Really? Why?"
Letting out an uncomfortable, dry laugh, he said, "Because it's your dad."
"No way! My dad was not in a goddamned porno, Edward. That's just insane," I yelled, jumping off the bed in search of the movie case. Except that he was right. There on the back cover was a picture of an obviously younger version of my dad, still sporting his small dark mustache, the one that Alice had dubbed his 'porn-stache' when we were teenagers, and wearing a cop uniform that looked disturbingly like the one I saw him wear for work every day when I was growing up. Beneath the picture was his on-screen name written in bold letters, "Chuck Bucco." Wait until I tell Alice just how accurate her nickname was, was my first thought.
And then reality came crashing back down, and I realized that my dad's naked ass was still displayed on the television, still pounding into the woman who was most definitely not my mother.
"Turn if off! What the hell are you waiting for?" I once again yelled at Edward. I knew I shouldn't take out my anxiety on him, but I had just found out my dad was a porn-star; I think that entitled me to a bit of a freak out.
Edward snapped out of whatever "happy place where my father-in-law is not a porn-star" that his mind had sent him to and grabbed the remote, turning off the DVD player so that the tv only showed a blissfully blank, blue screen.
He and I just stared at each other for a minute, neither of us really knowing what to do.
"So...your dad's a porn-star. That explains some things," was Edward's unhelpful contribution to the situation.
I grabbed my clothes off the floor and threw them on, giving him a dirty look the whole time, before grabbing the only thing that could comfort me in this moment, my favorite childhood stuffed animal, and sat on my bed in brooding silence.
Finally, I couldn't take it anymore and I snapped. "I don't understand how you're so calm! You've refused to come to my parents' house for two months because you were subjected to them having sex too close to you, but we watch my dad in a damned porn and you just make a stupid joke about it!"
"Trust me, I'm not nearly as calm as I seem, but I figured out of the two of us, this was probably more traumatic for you. Yes, I'm freaking out. At this point, I know more about your father's sexual preferences than I do about yours. If you want me to lose it, I'd be happy to; I'm pretty sure I could actually vomit at this point."
It might have recognized his rare self-restraint as a sweet gesture if I wasn't still reeling from all the screwed up shit I'd put up with today, so instead I just sat scowling at the bed.
My husband-the-ass sat next to me, putting his arm around me. "What do you want to do?" he asked, hesitantly.
Stroking the opossums soft fur rhythmically, trying to stay calm, I cleared my throat. "I want to put this box back in the attic so that they don't know we were there. Then you, me, and Mr. Fuzzywuzzykins here are going to pack up the car and drive home tonight. And we will never speak of this day again."