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Anonymous "Out of this World" One-Shot Crossover Contest

Title: Holiday Hell (aka: Christmas Vacation, Cullen-Style)

Movie Title: National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation

Recognizable Character(s) from other world: All secondary players; Mr.& Mrs. Shirley, Todd, Margo, the grandparents, Aunt Bethany, Uncle Lewis, Bethany's cat…

Rating: M

Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, but I had a blast making them act this out of character…

Summary: Twilight meets Christmas Vacation. Carlisle as Clark, Edward and Bella as the trailer-trash cousins-in-law, Aunt Bethany's cat. Need I say more? AU/AH, very OOC. Entry for the Out of This World crossover one-shot contest.


Friday November 27

Mission: Shopping

I awoke early. Really early. Hell, I had only slept for two hours, but if I wanted to be the first in the door to get the choice holiday merchandise… Well, a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. Right? Besides, shopping really is a man's sport—despite what the fairer sex might think—and I was a competitor of Olympic caliber when it came to anything Christmas-related.

Case in point… It was three o'clock in the morning, and I was stumbling in the dark, trying to get dressed. Trying to not wake Esme. That plan went flying out the window when my jeans tangled around my knees, sending me crashing to the bed in an unceremonious pile. Right on top of my sleeping wife.

"Carlisle!" she admonished in a highly irritated tone. "What are you doing?"

"Sorry, honey. Just trying to get dressed," I replied.

She looked towards the clock. "At three in the morning?"

"I've got some shopping to do," I whispered. "Go back to sleep."

I patted her shoulder gently, and she sighed in exasperation. But she rolled over and was snoring again within seconds. She knew the routine; I did this every year.

I gathered up my clothing and tiptoed to the bathroom where I finished dressing. I hurried downstairs, grabbed my keys, and rushed out to my car. Yes, I still drove a station wagon. Don't knock it. That car was great! There was room for loads of shit in the back of those suckers. Kids, pets, sporting gear, the dead bodies of my in-laws… Yup. Gotta love the family wagon.

I pulled into the Best Buy parking lot right at four a.m. Even though the doors wouldn't open for another hour, a long line had already formed out front. I seriously hoped it wouldn't spoil my chances of scoring the new "Rock Band" game for our PlayStation. But who was I kidding? Of course it did. In true Carlisle O. Cullen fashion (yeah, I know... C.O.C. What can I say? Phonetics are the bane of my existence), the person right in front of me snagged the last copy, making my trip down here at this ungodly hour a complete waste of time. I should be used to it; shit like that happened every year.

I stomped through the aisles of the store looking for something else, but Emmett had specifically requested that game, and damn… I was looking forward to it, myself. Besides, every time I found something that looked remotely interesting, someone snatched it from right underneath my nose. Or out of my hand. Grumbling in frustration, I left the store with nothing other than my bruised and battered pride. Which also happened every year.

I stopped at Krispy Kreme on my way home to pick up a dozen glazed and some coffee. That sign got me every time… Hot. Now. I snickered. At least I wouldn't come home empty handed—because, let's admit, it was pointless to shop any more today. They called it 'Black Friday' for a reason; just last year, I had gotten in a tussle over the latest Twilight book with a ninety-year-old Twihard in a wheel chair. I had no desire to go home with another black eye after wrestling with someone I didn't know over a gift that someone else didn't really want (Emmett hadn't appreciated that particular gift). Besides, it would only be a repeat of that first store, anyways. If something could go wrong, it would. That's just how my luck worked.

Esme called me karmically screwed.

That was probably why she had looked so worried last night when we made our annual Thanksgiving Day phone calls to the relatives. I'd been thinking about the holidays all day, about how it would be Emmett's last Christmas in high school, and about how life would inevitably change once he went away to college next fall. The invitation for my parents to come visit slipped out before I could stop it. And once we invited my family, we had to invite Esme's as well. So, we were now planning another fun, old-fashioned, family Christmas. I could only hope that this one turned out better than the last. Then again, how the hell could it be any worse? I mean, seriously… We had already spent one Christmas on the threshold of Hell; I had stapled myself to the roof, electrocuted a cat, burned down a tree, destroyed the house, been invaded by the S.W.A.T. team, and set off a stink bomb in the storm sewer. History couldn't repeat itself, could it?

I pulled into our driveway and parked the car. When I walked into the kitchen, I tossed the box of donuts onto the table. I snagged several of the confections, which were Esme's favorites, and juggled the donuts and the two cups of coffee I had purchased as I navigated the stairs. Esme was in the shower when I reached our bedroom. I smiled.

I hurried across the room, placed the coffee on the nightstand, and quickly disrobed. I lay down on the bed, artfully arranging the donuts before covering my lower body with the sheet. I'd better take advantage of the situation now, I thought to myself. With my track record at the holidays… I grimaced. Emmett had probably been scarred for life a few years back when he had walked in to find me tied to the bed with twinkle lights and Esme sporting a set of Christmas ornament-shaped nipple clamps. Alice had been an unfortunate witness to the fruitcake debacle of '07; in a moment inspired by American Pie, I had… Well, you get the picture. In my defense, I was searching for a legitimate purpose for fruitcake, which—as everyone knows—is completely fricking useless.

When Esme emerged from the bathroom, I was reclining on the bed with my arms crossed behind my head. A smile twitched across her lips when she saw me and my edible offerings.

"Oh, Carlisle… You got donuts?"

I nodded, smiling.

"For me?" she asked.

I nodded again, my smile widening.

"You shouldn't have," she simpered.

There was a hungry look in her eyes as she sauntered over to the bed. She crawled over to me and began running her tongue around the outside of the donut on my chest with a satisfied little hum. Nibbling at the treat without using her hands, her soft lips brushed across my sensitive skin in the process. I sighed raggedly, incredibly aroused, but left her to her ministrations.

When she was done with her donut, she picked up the other one and lifted it to my lips. I downed that sucker in two bites, causing her to laugh lightly. I might have used the excuse that Esme loved donuts to buy them, but I enjoyed them just as much, and she knew it. She leaned over me, and used her warm, wet tongue to lick the sticky sweetness that remained on my chest.

When I was glaze-free, she looked up to me with a smile. "Thank you. I really appreciate it when you do little things like this for me."

"You do, do you?" I asked.

She nodded her head.

I looked at her, a naughty smirk on my lips. "How much?"

She looked confused at my question, so I whipped the sheet back, revealing the two donuts that were now tightly encased around my engorged manhood. She chuckled wickedly, then slid down my torso to show me her appreciation.

* * * * *

Saturday, December 5

Mission: Christmas Tree

Sitting in the car with my family, I was singing Christmas carols on the way to pick out our annual Christmas tree. Things had changed over the past few years. I was now quite content to patronize the overpriced tree-lots that I had once scorned. One tree with way too much sap and another with one too many squirrels had ruined the enjoyment of a fresh-cut tree for me. The fact that Esme now forbade me from using the chainsaw also contributed; I had dug one tree out of the ground with my bare hands, and I had no desire to repeat that task.

Alice and Emmett were sprawled in the back seat of the family wagon, fighting—as siblings often do—over personal space. Apparently, Alice was irritated that Emmett's large, athletic body had crossed the proverbial invisible line that divided the back seat in half. Of course, he wasn't helping matters by sliding his hands and feet across that imaginary line to poke at her repeatedly. But this was their battle and I left them to it, tuning them out by humming another jolly Christmas tune under my breath.

We arrived safely. This tree lot was conveniently located in downtown Chicago, so we didn't have to deal with any red-neck assholes or tractor-trailers on the road this year. Thank God! We all exited the car and began perusing the overly-dry and long-dead trees for which I was now more than happy to pay way too much.

Esme and I wandered the lot, hand-in-hand. I had just located the most beautiful specimen when I heard Alice chirp in an excited voice, "I found it!"

I reluctantly left the Christmas tree of all Christmas tees behind—there was another family eying it as well—and headed towards Alice's excited voice. I knew that something was wrong when I heard Emmett laugh.

Damn. This couldn't be good.

It wasn't.

Alice had pulled a Charlie Brown and found the ugliest, most pathetic-looking tree in the entire lot. She had a tendency to want to rescue things—anything—and this sorry-looking little tree was apparently her latest project. I tried to steer her away, but she remained staunchly by its side, claiming that it just needed to be loved. Emmett chortled again.

"Alice? Love won't be able fix that fucking train-wreck of a Christmas tree. That thing needs to be put out of its misery." He laughed harder, looking around. "Where's the chipper?"

Alice's eyes pinched in determination. I recognized that particular look; it usually signified that she had chosen a battle. Like father, like daughter. I sighed in resignation and looked longingly over my shoulder at my tree. It was now being carried off by someone else.

Yup. Par for the course, Cullen family Christmas-style.

Twenty minutes later, we left the lot, Alice's pathetic little tree safely ensconced in the back of the wagon. Yes, the car was that big. Or maybe the tree was just that small. Either way, Emmett was looking at it in disgust while Alice reverently stroked it. She was muttering quietly, and repeatedly, "It just needs a little love."

When we got home, Alice supervised the unloading of the tree from the car. Our pretentious prick of a next door neighbor, Todd Chester, eyed the proceedings apprehensively. We had never had a great relationship, but for the past several years, he had been quite suspicious of all our holiday activities. I didn't quite know why. Although now that I think about it, his wife had left him right after Christmas a few years back, so maybe he just hated the Holidays in general these days.

"Hey, Cullen… You call that puny little twig a Christmas tree?" He laughed derisively, causing Alice to scowl.

Even though I secretly agreed with his assessment, I wanted to protect my daughter from his disdain. So, I snarkily asked, "How's Margo? Talked to her lately?"

Asking about his ex-wife always shut Todd up pretty quickly. His face turned beet red with what appeared to be rage, and his hands fisted as he turned to stomp angrily in to his house without saying another word. Obviously, he was still sore about his wife's defection. I briefly wondered why she had left him, but then I shrugged. It wasn't any of my business.

Unfortunately, decorations did not transform this tree the way it did in the Charlie Brown Christmas cartoon. It was still ugly. In fact, I think the decorations only managed to emphasize its deficiencies; it didn't stand quite straight—it was incredibly lopsided—and all the branches drooped sadly under the weight of the ornaments they were forced to hold. Even the top was bowed over slightly. However, Alice was happy. So, I put on a happy face and ruffled her hair as I headed upstairs for the evening.

Maybe if I didn't water it, it would die quickly and I could replace it, I mused to myself.

Then another thought popped into my mind.

I could always invite Uncle Lewis to come visit before Christmas…

* * * * *

Wednesday, December 9

Mission: Bring Some Holiday Cheer to Work

"Hey, Carlisle."

I looked up from behind the infinitesimally small Christmas tree I had just installed on my desk to see my boss, Frank Shirley, standing in my doorway.

"Happy Holidays, Mr. Shirley," I greeted him.

He grimaced a bit, then smiled warmly at me. "Come on, now, Carlisle. I've asked you at least a thousand times to call me Frank."

He had. Ever since the ill-fated Christmas that I usually relegated to the back of my mind with other unpleasant things such as gay midget pirate porn and another American Pie-inspired bedroom moment involving alone time and a tube of super-glue, he had kind of adopted me as the 'little person' that he graced regularly with his presence. Surprisingly, we had even become friends, of sorts. Yet I still had a hard time using his given name. Especially at work.

As if sensing my inner conflict, he looked at his watch. "It's six o'clock, Carlisle. We're officially off the clock…"

I nodded my head and turned casual-conversational with my quasi-friend/boss.

"You and Helen planning to come to the house for Christmas Eve this year, Frank?"

He smiled and nodded. "We wouldn't miss it for the world."

That was another thing that had changed. Over the past several years, Frank Shirley and his wife had become regulars at our house at all of the holidays. He claimed that after the excitement at Christmas that first year, the holidays just weren't the same without the insanity that our family always managed to provide. Go figure.

"Good, good," I replied.

We exchanged some holiday small-talk, but after a few minutes of pleasant conversation, his eyes flickered to the small decoration on my desk and his eyes pinched. I knew that there was some reason for his visit to my out-of-the-way office other than the usual holiday shooting-of-the-shit.

"Um… Carlisle…" he began, only to pause and look at my tree.

I looked at him expectantly.

"I've had some complaints about your… tree."

I looked at the tiny tree that had been standing on my desk for less than half-an-hour. How in the hell could anyone complain that quickly? After hours, no less?

"Huh?" I mumbled, confused. "What's wrong with it?"

"Well, you see, in the spirit of 'political correctness' and in accordance with President Obama's new Holiday Rules and Regulations, we're avoiding the use of certain themes in our holiday celebrations. Didn't you get the memo?" he asked.

I vaguely remembered some memo concerning the holidays, but I didn't recall the specifics.

"No, I guess not," I retorted, looking at my tree. "What's the problem?"

"Well, Carlisle… it's a Christmas tree…"

"Yes," I confirmed. When he remained silent, I prompted him. "And…"

"Again, to keep everyone happy, we've decided to forego Christmas trees this year," he stated, shifting uncomfortably.

Once again, I looked at my tiny tree. "There aren't even any ornaments on it. Just lights."

"Sorry, Carlisle. It's the principle of the matter; it's either all or nothing. If you want to keep the tree, you'll need it to represent all the winter-time holidays from every single religion and/or culture in the world. Equal opportunity and all…"

I scowled. "It's Christmas here in the good old U.S of A. That's what I'm celebrating. That's what our bonus checks represent--"

He cut me off. "Well, Carlisle… We've changed the name of the bonuses this year to reflect the new policy. Now they are just 'Holiday bonuses'. Didn't you get that memo?

I guess not.

When I didn't say anything further, Mr. Shirley turned to leave. "Good night, Carlisle."

"Good night, Frank." I snarled his name.

I sat at my desk fuming for a few minutes. Principles and regulations be damned. There was no way that I was giving up my little tree. I sighed.

I guess it was now a Happy ChristmaHoliHanaKwanzikah Tree.

* * * * *

Saturday, December 19

Mission: Holiday Lights

Saturday afternoon found me 'hiding out' as Esme liked to refer to it. Yes… I was outside, putting up the little twinkle lights. Not quite so many this year, though. Apparently, twenty-five thousand imported Italian twinkle lights burn through a shit-load of energy. The memory of the electric bill we had gotten a few years back was enough to make me cringe; it had taken me two months to pay off that sucker. Two months salary! And the damn things never even twinkled. Hell, I could've bought Esme a new diamond for what I spent on Christmas lights that year. She never let me forget that shit, either!

So now, it was toned down. Simple. A few strands of icicle lights along the eaves, the Santa and his sleigh (although I had to get a new one following the Christmas night flight of the last one—they never returned from their travels), and a few well-placed, flashing snow-flake lights. Even though I didn't really need Emmett's assistance putting them up, he was overly eager to come outside to help me today. Of course, that might have had something to do with all of the bodies that now resided inside the house.

Yes, the grandparents had descended upon us this morning. Both Alice and Emmett had appeared uncomfortable when I left to go to the airport. When I returned, Alice was nowhere to be found, and Emmett had bolted out the door with me. Ever since Grandma Nora had offered them both a quarter to rub the burs on her feet… Well, let's just say that our two kids did as much as they could to avoid the grandparental units these days.

That evening, the entire family was once again gathered in the yard, eagerly awaiting the lighting of the house. Esme made her silly little drum-roll noise, and with a flick of the switch… voila… Christmas lights. I turned them on before stringing them up this year, so there was no unnecessary drama.

I mingled amongst my family members, enjoying the holiday spirit. Emmett dropped a snow-ball down the back of Alice's coat; she shrieked at him and they took off across the yard. As usual, Frances was drunk; she was hiccoughing and staggering around the front yard. Art felt it necessary to remind me, again, that the little lights weren't twinkling. My mom and dad clapped me on the back in awe of my handiwork, and I again attributed all of my exterior illumination skills to my father. Edward and Bella smiled at the lights.

"It sure is bee-you-tee-ful, Carlisle," Edward commented. Bella nodded in agreement.

Wait a minute… Edward and Bella? Where the hell had they come from?

"Ed? Bella?" I looked at them in confusion. I knew that no one had told them of our holiday plans this year. After the last time… Well, to put it politely… They weren't fucking invited.

They both smiled at me. "Surprise!"

Ah, Hell… did that mean…

Yup. There it was, my worst nightmare: the Recreational Vehicle. How I hadn't seen or heard it until now was beyond me. The thing was old and beat up, ugly as sin and practically falling apart, yet it had somehow managed to survive another cross-country trip. And it was once again parked in our driveway.

Great.

We'd had complaints from the Homeowners Association last time, although I suspected that Todd and Margo had been responsible for that. Maybe now that she was gone… Who the hell was I kidding? That rusty pile of shit was an eye-sore, and our neighbors had every right to complain about it. I'd have to see if there was any way to get that sucker in the back yard, out of sight. Not to mention as far away from the storm sewer as possible. I didn't want to subject the neighbors to the sight of an asshole in his bathrobe, dumping his chemical toilet.

As I was looking at said rusty vehicle in disgust, the door opened and two young boys came tumbling out.

"Four, Five… You boys c'mon over here and greet yer Uncle Carlisle," Edward hollered at them.

All of Edward and Bella's boys were named Edward Anthony Masen, after their father. As such, they found it easier to address them by their number. Two was Edward Anthony Masen II. Three was Edward Anthony Masen III. And so on. Shit… Who the hell gives all of their children the same name? Oh, wait a minute… this was Edward and Bella, trailer-trash extraordinaire.

The two young boys stumbled through the snow to stop in front of us. "Hi," they chimed together, looking at me. I just smiled in return.

Edward was looking around. "Hey boys? Where's Jasper?"

"Him's still inside," the older one answered.

"Well, go fetch'im. We need to introduce him to everyone."

"Who's Jasper," I asked, warily.

"Oh, he's a new foster we picked up a few months back."

I choked. Someone actually let Edward and Bella be foster parents? I thought.

"Yup," Edward replied.

Oops. I guess I said that out loud.

"Jasper's older," Edward continued, "around fifteen as best they can tell, and the last fosters decided he too much fuss. No one wants to adopt him 'cause he's so old… So, me and Bella agreed that we would do what we could. Better this than sendin' money to some TV minister and all… This way we know we're helpin'."

I looked in horror to the RV and watched as Four tumbled out. Jasper followed cautiously behind. He was dirty and ragged-looking—although with the company he kept these days that could hardly be avoided—with shaggy blonde hair and big, brown, sorrow-filled eyes. He walked slowly, as if life had beaten him down. He stayed behind Four, keeping the boy between him and the crowd of strangers.

"Hello, Jasper," I greeted him. He cringed at the sound of my voice.

Bella reached out to run a hand through his tousled locks. "Yeah, he's had it rough, poor guy. He's real shy and don't speak. He don't much like strangers or sudden movements neither, so be careful not to startle'im." She paused, and then whispered theatrically, "We think he might'a been abused in his last home."

At that moment, Alice came running over in an attempt to escape Emmett's snowball fury. She slammed to a halt when her eyes landed on Jasper. They lit up just like a Christmas tree. A real Christmas tree, I might add—not the scrawny excuse inside our house. While I had never been a first-hand witness to love at first sight, I figured that it must look something like that.

"Ooh! Who are you?" she asked, unable to take her eyes away from Jasper.

"Alice, this is Jasper. He's had it a bit rough, so be gentle with him, okay?" I warned, gently; Alice had a tendency to be over-exuberant.

However, when I turned back to look at Jasper, the same excitement flashed from his no-longer-tired eyes. Alice held her hand out towards him, and Jasper quickly covered the distance to stand by her side. He nudged her hand, and a tinkling laugh escaped her lips.

"Oh, Jasper! We're gonna be great friends, I just know it!"

She took off towards the house, Jasper eagerly following her.

* * * * *

Monday, December 21

Mission: Converse with Edward… If That Is Possible…

Following dinner Monday evening, I wandered into the den with Edward. Alice was lying on the couch watching TV with Jasper. Jasper's head was resting on her lap, and she was running her fingers through his messy hair. He sighed, contentedly.

I sipped my eggnog and attempted to shoot the shit with Edward—not in the literal sense, although I figured that he probably knew a few things about waste management, what with his chemical toilet and all. He moved restlessly around the room, touching things. We had learned our lesson the last time; anything that was breakable had been put away within two minutes of his arrival. He stopped in front of the tree and cocked his head.

"Damn, Carlisle. That is one u-u-gly tree!" He drew it out into three syllables, adding a chuckle at the end. "I don't think I've ever seen anything that ugly before."

I had. Edward in a too-tight leisure suit that showed more than it should. Edward in his bathrobe. Edward in a speedo. Need I say more? I shuddered.

"So, Ed… How are you guys doing?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Can't complain, Carlisle. Can't complain," he replied.

"Whatever happened to Snots?" I asked, suddenly realizing that the overly-friendly Rottweiler was absent this year.

"Well, Carlisle, that's sad story. A real sad story." Edward sighed dejectedly. "Yeah, he was caught in the act, if you catch my drift." He winked and made a rude gesture implying sexual activity. 'Yup, he had a thing goin' with a purebred Poodle… Her owners didn't much like that, so they called the pound. By the time we got him back, they'd gone and neutered him. Once his prized possessions were gone… Well, he just had no will to live. It's still hard to talk about it..."

Edward wiped at a stray tear, and I just nodded sympathetically. I changed the subject by asking about the two older Edwards.

"Where are Two and Three this year?"

"Well… I don't rightly know where Two is. We ain't seen him in several months, since he got hitched. He's still with the circus—they travel a lot—but even when he's home, it's just weird hangin' out with 'em. I know she's a woman, but his wife's got so much facial hair…"

I looked at him in confusion. "Huh?"

"You know, the Bearded Lady…" Edward stated matter-of-factly, then continued. "Three had to stay home 'cause he's in school and he had some work to do."

"College?" I asked, surprised.

"Nah… trade school. He's takin' classes in body mod right now."

I was confused. Edward rolled his eyes. "You know, tattooin' and piercin'…"

"They offer classes on that?" I asked, slightly appalled.

"Uh huh. He's got finals this week, and I volunteered to be his test subject." Edward reached down and untucked his shirt, then tugged it up to reveal his beer-belly and slightly saggy man-boobs. An oddly-placed and completely off-kilter piercing adorned his left nipple. Just like plumber's crack, it was disgustingly mesmerizing, and I found myself unable to look away.

"I was his first," Edward declared proudly. He released his shirt. When it fell to cover the disturbing nipple ring, I was finally liberated from my inappropriate stare.

Bella entered the room and walked to Edward's side. "You showin' Carlisle your piercin'?" she asked.

"Yup." He turned back to me. "Three's got himself a girlfriend now, too. A girl from his piercin' class. She'd probably be purty, if she didn't have every last inch o' skin covered in ink, but she's a real sweet gal. Bella volunteered to be her first."

Edward turned to Bella and smiled. She beamed in return. Then fidgeted a bit.

"Bella's piercin' is a bit infected, so we probably shouldn't show you right now, but as soon as she's able to wear her underpants again…"

I choked on my eggnog, spraying it unceremoniously across the room.

You know what? That snow-like mist added that je ne sais quoi to the ugly little Christmas tree, finally turning it into something somewhat special.

* * * * *

Wednesday, December 23

Mission: Avoid the Mistleblowjob

On Wednesday night, I found Jasper and Alice curled up on the couch, watching TV. As sweet as they were together, I was beginning to get worried. Alice didn't have very many friends, and I wondered how she would react when he left. I also wasn't comfortable with the way they were lying together, her arm around his shoulders, his nose nuzzling her neck. I cleared my throat as I walked past the couch on the way to the bathroom. Alice shot up from her reclining position, a guilty look on her face.

When she saw where I was headed, she warned me, "I wouldn't if I were you…"

I looked at her darkly. Grandpa Art was in the guest bathroom upstairs. He'd gone in there with a magazine quite some time ago and still hadn't reappeared. Grandma Nora was in the bathtub in our bathroom. I really had to go, so the one down here was my only option. I turned back towards the door.

Alice's voice interrupted me again. "Trust me. You really don't want to go in there right now." A knowing smile erupted on her face.

"Why?" I asked. "Did Edward pollute it or something?"

"Not exactly," she hedged, chuckling. "They were kissing under the mistletoe..."

I shook my head and pushed the door open.

At that moment, I really wished that I had listened to my daughter. I couldn't quite figure out what I was witnessing, but I knew it was something… well… it was just wrong.

"What the fuck?" The expletive escaped my mouth before I could control it.

"Exactly," Edward stated, an annoyed look on his face.

"Huh?" I was still trying to wrap my head around what I was seeing. It was like something out of a porno. A bad, cheap, red-neck porno. Edward's back was to me. His pants were around his ankles and his ass hung out from underneath his shirt. Bella was between him and the wall, upside down, legs spread wide. I was glad I couldn't see anything private because my eyes seemed to be frozen in shock and I couldn't look away. After a moment or two, Edward finally spoke.

"Carlisle, do you mind?" he asked politely, but there was an edge to his voice.

"Do I mind?" I asked incredulously. "Hell, Ed. This is my house. This is my bathroom. And I walk in on… that…" I circled my hands in their direction, indicating their activities, "…whatever the fuck that is. Couldn't you wait, or go somewhere a bit more private?"

"Well, now, Carlisle… We're workin' on Edward the Sixth, and Bella here is ovulatin'—right now—so, no… we can't wait."

I was still staring. It was rude, I know. Hell, it was Edward and Bella! But I couldn't seem to help it… train wreck and morbid fascination, or some shit like that. I was also still trying to understand exactly what it was that I was witnessing.

Edward started fidgeting. "Can we get some privacy, please?"

"Ooh, Edward…" Bella chuckled, her eyebrows waggling. "I've always had a fantasy about bein' watched…"

Edward groaned. "Ah… c'mon, love." His eyes slid to me, and he whispered loudly, "You know I have performance anxiety…"

She giggled. "Don't worry about it, baby. It'll be fine. Just pretend he ain't there. You can do it… it'll just take a few seconds. Here, let me help…"

I heard some suspicious-sounding noises. And when her legs fell further apart on either side of him, my jaw dropped accordingly. I really didn't want to see her new piercing. Edward quietly muttered, "Are you sure?" and Bella grunted softly as he did…something to her. Not wanting to know what that something was, I turned and fled the room as if the hounds of hell were on my heels.

The hounds of hell couldn't be any fucking worse than that, could they?

Alice's laughter preceded me down the hallway. "I tried to warn you…" she claimed as I shot past the couch, flashing her a dirty look.

Guess I'd be holding it for a while.

* * * * *

Thursday, December 24

Mission: Maintain What's Left of My Sanity

This was it. Christmas Eve. My own personal version of "D" day. Disaster Day. Because, really… If disaster was going to strike, it would be today; it was no secret that the holidays and I did not get along.

Karmically screwed, remember?

The day started off well enough. As was my habit, I got up early. In an attempt to generate some good vibes, I made an emergency run to Krispy Kreme. The donuts had paid off a few weeks ago—quite well, I might add—and I figured I needed all the help I could get, today of all days. Once again, Esme was appreciative, and I walked around with a hap-hap-happy Holiday smile for the next few hours.

But after that, in true Carlisle O. Cullen fashion, everything began to go down hill…

It started with the trip to the mall. So, there I was, searching for a few final items along with all the other desperate men who had put off their shopping until the last minute. I needed to find some lingerie for Esme, as was also my habit at the holidays. There was just something… comforting… about shopping for underwear. Something familiar.

As soon as I walked in the door, I was accosted by a very persistent and very busty blonde. Her name was Rose. She followed me around, asking if I needed assistance or if I would like her to show me something. I snickered at each of those loaded questions while I stared at her chest. I couldn't help it. If the bustier she was wearing was supposed to contain the secret that Victoria was trying keep… Well, let's just say Victoria wasn't doing a very good job.

After a few inappropriate hooter comments and a bad joke about taking her picture so that I could show Santa what I wanted for Christmas, I left the store with melons—oops… I mean melon-colored lingerie—in hand. Once again, I had a vivid sense of déjà vu. But at least Emmett wasn't here to witness my lingerie transgressions this year…

By the time I got home, the chaos was already underway. Emmett was outside, bombarding the Edwards with snowballs. Five was crying after getting hit in the face, and Four was buried waist-deep in some sort of igloo-type structure. Emmett was laughing maniacally. Inside, things weren't much better. The grandparents were arguing, Esme was smoking, and Alice was nowhere to be found. Neither was Jasper… Avoiding the mayhem, I escaped up the stairs before anyone noticed my return. However, as I was passing by Alice's room, I heard her giggle.

"Oh Jasper!"

I pushed open the door to find them lying on the bed, snuggled in what was now their signature pose—Alice's arm was around Jasper's shoulders and his nose was buried in her neck. Her head whipped up to look at me, another guilty look on her face. She quickly scooted to the other side of the bed. Jasper, on the other hand, remained sprawled where he was, although he turned to look at me reproachfully.

"Alice…" I sighed resignedly. "We've talked about this before…"

She pushed further away from Jasper. He made no effort to move; he just continued to stare at me.

"Jasper!" I snapped, holding the bedroom door open in an obvious invitation for him to leave.

He sat up slowly, and after sending one last longing look at Alice, he hopped off the bed and shuffled to the door. He shot me a clearly disgruntled look, then scuttled out the door and down the stairs to go hang with the Edwards.

An hour later, I was ready for Christmas. Or as ready as I was going to get. My favorite holiday tie had gone missing, but I still managed to look festive—if I must say so myself—in my plaid shirt, green sweater-vest, and red velvet pants. I wandered downstairs, wished everyone a Merry Christmas and left to pick up Uncle Lewis and Aunt Bethany.

When we returned, I ushered Lewis and Bethany inside, handing their packages to Esme. Remembering that last Christmas, we peaked into the boxes. Somehow I was not surprised to find another Jello mold—cherry this time—and another cat. Edward looked speculatively at the pretty seal point Ragdoll.

"You may want to close her up, Carlisle," he warned. "Jasper has a thing for cats… Yeah, he really enjoys chasin' him some pussy." He guffawed at his own joke.

Frank and Helen Shirley had arrived while I was gone; they were now sitting in the den with my parents. I walked in to say hello and to find a drink. A sip of the eggnog revealed that it had been spiked, liberally, with rum. My father had informed me a few years back that the only way he had made it through the holidays while I was growing up was with the help of Jack Daniels. I figured Captain Morgan would be just as effective.

Dinner was, for the most part, uneventful. Ever since Bella had petrified the turkey a few years back, we had opted for catering. This year we had a nice ham with scalloped potatoes, steamed green beans, baked apples, and a pecan pie. Bethany's Jello added a splash of vibrant color to our spread. It appeared that her new cat also liked Jello—there was some Meow Mix visible on top of the mold. There was, however, one unfortunate addition to our dinner table: a fruitcake. Alice stared at it, horrified. Her gaze darted warily between me and the cake, her cheeks flushed. I did my best to ignore both it and her, and instead looked to Esme, who indicated that the Shirley's had brought it. Bethany lead us in the Pledge of Allegiance, as had become tradition, then we all ate.

Following dinner, we all moved back to the den to enjoy the company, the tree, and the eggnog. I settled in my favorite chair and observed the Holiday scene with an odd sense of satisfaction. Odd, because for the first time in, well…forever…it appeared that Christmas would not be a complete disaster. Lewis and Bethany sat in the old wing-back chairs, Bethany knitting and Lewis biting his cigar—he wasn't allowed to smoke in our house anymore. Esme and Helen were engaged in a discussion about interior decorating. Mom and Frances were acting surprisingly pleasant towards one another while they looked over the family photos from our summer vacation to Vegas. Dad, Art, and Frank had all settled onto the couch and were arguing about what to watch on T.V. Alice and Jasper were seated on the floor in front of the fire, and Emmett was entertaining the Edwards, reading The Night Before Christmas.

Of course, it was only the calm before the storm.

Just as Emmett finished the story, the doorbell rang. We all looked up, surprised. Emmett popped up, a flush on his cheeks.

Esme looked to me with a concerned look. "Are we expecting someone?"

"Um…" Emmett started sheepishly. He took a deep breath before continuing, "I invited my girlfriend over tonight. I didn't say anything earlier because I wasn't sure if she was gonna be able to come. She had to work…"

He took off for the front door. I was shocked; I didn't even know that Emmett had a girlfriend. I looked to Esme with raised eyebrows, and she shrugged her shoulders indicating that she had no idea either. I decided to refresh my eggnog, and after refilling my cup, I moved to stand by the tree. I heard the door open, followed by a quick exchange of words. I had just taken a sip of my drink when Emmett walked back into the room leading a girl. From where I was standing, I didn't have a good view of her face, but there was something vaguely familiar about her…

"Everyone, this is Rose," he introduced her. "My girlfriend." He kissed her on the cheek, and she blushed. She glanced around to look at all of us. When her eyes settled on me, they widened in surprise.

Oh, shit! Now I knew why she looked familiar: Victoria's secret was definitely out of the bag.

Once again, my eggnog spewed in a snow-like mist over the entire area. This time, however, the slight weight was too much for the pathetic little tree to bear. I watched as it tipped over—seemingly in slow motion—and crashed to the floor. I stared at it in shock, although I really shouldn't have been surprised. Ornaments scattered and broke on the floor. The little lights started blinking. The cat, who had been hiding under the tree, yowled. Jasper's head snapped up at the sound, and he immediately left Alice's side to come investigate.

The doorbell rang again.

In a desperate attempt to extricate myself from what was becoming a rapidly deteriorating situation, I practically sprinted to the door. I pulled it open to find Todd standing there, an apprehensive yet determined look on his face.

"Todd?" I asked, confused.

"Cullen," he addressed me shortly.

I just looked at him, still completely taken aback. "What are you doing here?"

Todd sighed. "Well, I thought that maybe it was time to bury the Holiday hate hatchet…"

I was still confused, but I didn't have time to really consider his words. Because at that exact moment, several things happened simultaneously.

First, Emmett loudly shouted, "What?"

Second, the cat let out an ear-shattering shriek.

Third, Alice yelled, "Jasper! Nooooo!"

Next thing I knew, the cat went flying out the door, brushing Todd's legs as she made a bee-line for the tree in our front yard. He jumped back, losing his balance. He might have recovered if Jasper hadn't come flying out the door hot on Miss Kitty's heels and completely bowled him over. Jasper didn't even stop, he just kept running. Todd landed ass-first in the snow, and the hesitant look on his face morphed into one I was quite familiar with: beet-red fury.

I reached out my hand to help him. "Sorry about that… Christmas craziness. Now… What were you saying?"

He knocked my hand away and rose to his feet muttering, "I knew this was a bad idea," and, "Therapists don't know shit." He turned on his heel and stomped back to his house.

I was standing there, once again confused when Emmett came storming out. "D-a-d!" he fumed, "How could you?"

Momentarily forgetful of other earlier events, I asked, "How could I, what?"

He just looked at me with a scowl and gestured to Rose, who had followed him outside.

Oh. Right. I smiled sheepishly and shrugged. "What can I say… You know me, Em. Shopping for lingerie at the holidays… Well, it just brings out the caveman in me."

By this time, everyone else had filed outside as well. Alice ran to Jasper's side at the base of the tree where the cat was now stuck. Esme's eyes flickered between me, Emmett, and the retreating form of Todd, as he made his way back to his house. I just shrugged; I never did figure out what he wanted. Frank and Helen looked around, excitement flashing from their eyes.

The evening didn't get better. We cleaned up the mess from the toppled tree, but because no lots were open on Christmas Eve, we couldn't buy another one. I had cut down the only pine tree in our yard a few years ago, so we went tree-less for the rest of the Holiday. Hell… maybe that was for the best anyways. We also had flashing lights surrounding our house on Christmas Eve once again. At least it was a voluntary invasion this time; we called the fire department in order to remove the cat from the tree.

Despite all of this, I must admit that the ensuing conglomeration of people who were assembled in our living room made for an interesting Christmas Eve gathering. Once again, our craziness had managed to provide an immense amount of entertainment to a large number of people.

After witnessing Jasper's lack of self-control, we locked the cat in the laundry room for the rest of the evening. Upon removal of the temptation, Jasper once again became Alice's loyal companion.

Later that evening, I found Alice in a sleeping bag on the floor in front of the fireplace, Jasper asleep at her side. Her arm was once again around his shoulder. She looked up at me.

"He has no one, dad, and neither do I. Can we adopt him?"

I looked into her desperate eyes and knew that I had no choice. I sighed. "I'll see what I can do, sweetie."

Alice beamed.

I began looking around for Edward so that I could get the necessary information. But then it dawned on me that I hadn't seen either him or Bella since dinner. That was several hours ago… I had a sinking suspicion where they might be…

I approached the bathroom with trepidation and hesitantly pushed open door. As suspected, I was once again subjected to another disturbing sexual scenario involving Edward and Bella. It was just as wrong as before.

"Oh, Fuck! Not again," I moaned.

I closed the door, but obviously not quickly enough; Edward and Bella's laughter chased me all the way down the hall.

* * * * *

Friday, December 25

Mission: Enjoy What's Left…

Somehow we did it; we made it to Christmas Day. For a while last night, I had thought that we wouldn't, but it had all worked out in the end. Gifts had been opened, food had been eaten, disaster avoided… Okay, not really, but we had come through it relatively unscathed, all things considered.

I looked around and smiled. The grandparents were, for once, managing to get along. Edward and Bella were fully dressed and were sitting a safe distance apart; Bella was wearing pants today. Emmett was chasing Four and Five around, hitting them with snap-pops. Alice was sitting in front of the fire, Jasper's head once again in her lap. I sighed. I had made a call to the adoption agency this morning; we were now the proud parents of an ancient Labrador Retriever.

I turned to Esme and grasped her hand lightly in my own. Leaning over, I kissed her on the forehead.

"Merry Christmas, honey," I whispered.

"Merry Christmas, Sparkly."