Title: Rain
Author: Adrian
Rating: R. I curse. My bad.
Genre: Romance/Angst
Characters/Pairings: Emmett/Bella
Short summary: Idea came from reading the prompt set at twiriginal, and partly from the Patti Griffin song "Rain". This is my first dive into the Emmett/Bella pairing. So sorry if it's horrendous. AU fic set after "Eclipse" and "Breaking Dawn". Bella has been changed, and things aren't going as well as everyone thought they would.
Disclaimer: All belongs to Stephenie Meyer. Bow in reverence, bitches.
Side Note: Thank you so much to sporkd and viOlentdelight for being my beta readers!!
He finds her huddled beside a tree, ruby eyes casting brilliant rays of light in the darkness. Thunder claps angrily overhead; lightning pops land somewhere in the distance.
And yet she doesn't seem to care. Doesn't seem to mind her hair growing ever the more tangled and mussed, her sweater ruined by rainwater dripping mockingly from the fabric. There's a storm raging around her, and she doesn't seem to care because the storm inside her heart right now is considerably more violent.
He knows he shouldn't be here. This is Edward's place, not his. It should be Edward coming after her, Edward wanting to cradle her and tell her everything's going to be alright. But Edward is the cause of all this misery. Edward is the one who married her, turned her, and now can't even stand the sight of her because he's too overcome with guilt at what he's done. Edward is the one who is pushing her away, making her run in the first place.
"Bella," the young Cullen says simply, blinking raindrops away from his vision.
She meets his eyes only for a second, but in that briefest of moments, he drowns in the sight. In her ivory flesh and wide, newborn eyes. He knows if his heart was still beating that it would race for her, and rather than feel guilty, he is only frustrated in the not knowing why Edward can't look upon the beauty he's created.
A weary sigh blows like storm wind through his lips. Normally, he says what's on his mind. But right now, he doesn't know what to say. He knows what he wants to say, what's tickling his tongue and pleading for release. But somehow the words, 'you're beautiful' don't seem appropriate right now.
Thankfully, she's the first to speak, her voice coming in a broken whisper. "Don't pity me, Emmett."
He shakes his head. "I don't," he lies.
She leans her head back against the tree and closes her eyes. "Where's your wife?"
It's like a blow to the gut, that one. He really wasn't expecting it, and truth be told, he doesn't know. Rosalie has stopped telling him where she goes when she's gone, too angry (disappointed?) at both Bella and Edward and the choices they've made.
It upsets him. Strikes a suspicious nerve and make him think that Rosalie's behavior is a source for Edward's guilt. That maybe her disgust with him means more than an eternity with Bella, and then if that's true... what in hell does it mean? It doesn't help that Edward has heard these thoughts screaming in his mind and has done nothing, said nothing, to steer them in the opposite direction. Doesn't help that he looks at Rosalie with more sorrow than he offers Bella.
'Where's your wife?' makes him feel like he's been sucker punched in the abdomen. 'Where's your wife?' brings worry and fear and grief and every other swell of emotion that comes when a question such as it cannot honestly be answered. More importantly, though, 'where's your wife' brings slight indifference. Today, Bella asks him, "Where's your wife?", and Emmett finds he doesn't care. Today he finds himself more concerned about another man's wife mourning in a rainstorm.
Another roar of thunder brings him back, makes him shrug. "Don't know," he answers. "Don't care."
Bella swallows hard and pulls her knees protectively to her chest. "It's my fault," she says. "I'm tearing your family apart."
"Our family," he corrects, his voice a stern growl.
She shakes her head. "No. No, I'm-I'm breaking things. I was too selfish, and I-"
"Do you know how unbelievably whiny you are?" and he can't help but smile as the words leave him.
That makes her look at him, eyes burning fire and jaw clenched tight. Emmett laughs. Folds his arms across his chest challengingly and waits for the rebuttal.
"You're. Not. Helping."
"Aww, Bella-Ella, don't get mad. I mean it in a good way. It's cute. Kind of annoying. A little nauseating. But cute."
She looks like she's fighting tears she can no longer shed. "You're a real ass sometimes, you know that?"
"And you're a pint-sized, melodramatic vampire, but so what? It's who you are, it's what you do, and it's why he loves you. It's why we love you."
As soon as he says it, he wonders how deep his love for her really goes.
Again she looks away, only this time she pouts like a little girl, and Emmett is struck by how full her lips are against her small, narrow face. They seem fuller somehow since her change. Somehow seem like the sweetest, palest shade of pink he's ever laid eyes on. Absolutely lovely, absolutely kissable. Absolutely begging to be turned up with a smile.
The idea comes to him so quickly he wonders if a lightning bolt has struck him. He doesn't even give himself time to think, just sees the deep puddle beckoning between them and jumps.
"Emmett!" she shrieks, sputtering and needlessly wiping at her face. "What the hell?"
His mouth twitches into a mischievous smirk. "Yeah, that's right," he taunts. "I splashed you. Now what are you gonna do about it?"
She is silent. Still as stone. Her eyes boil blood, and she hurries to her feet, fists clenched at her side. Her chest heaves up and down, up and down furiously, and briefly Emmett fears (though he kind of hopes) that she might attack. He twitches with anticipation; she's so damn beautiful when she fights.
But with a flash of light, her resolve is broken. She casts a devilish smile his way, shooting strange warmth along the hard lines and muscles of his body.
And then she stomps one foot into the puddle, soaking his jeans.
He laughs and jumps higher. Harder. Soaking her more than the rain ever could. She growls low, almost purring, and then plants both feet in the water. For every jump, he gives her two, and for every laugh he breathes, she giggles louder. The sound echoes around the trees, dances with the wind, and Emmett knows it's the absolute sweetest song he has ever heard.
He is so wrapped up in her and them and the childlike air engulfing them that he almost doesn't catch her when she slips.
Her eyes meet his sheepishly. "Guess I'm still not very graceful, huh?"
But he doesn't hear. Not her, not the thunder. Not even the wind whistling around them or the drip, drip of rain on the ground. No, he doesn't hear anything because the sight of her, the feel of her body trembling and tucked securely in his arms, is making his head all fuzzy. Like white noise on a T.V. set. He swallows hard. Breathes her in as longing pierces his heart.
"You're beautiful," he says softly, and immediately he curses the simplistic way his thoughts always find his voice.
Her smile fades like the sunset, and he worries she might run. But she lets him pull her closer, lets his body press hard and firm into hers, his hands cupping her cheeks as he leans ever so dangerously close to those too perfect, too full lips. His mouth is practically watering for the taste of her. For lavender and innocence and everything about her that makes her Bella. Her skin is just as cold as his, just as marble-like and numb. But he swears - fucking swears with everything that's in him - that she's melting beneath him and pulling him down with the undertow.
"Emmett..." she breathes, and it's the first time in nearly a century that a different voice has hungered for him. The first time someone other than Rosalie has moaned his name.
So he stops. Bites his bottom lip and slams his eyes shut. He presses his mouth to her forehead, lingering for far too long until she sighs into the hollow of his throat. He can't tell if the sound is one of relief... or one of disappointment.
"C'mon," he says, moving to her side and draping an around around her shoulder. "Let's go home."
And as they make their way, not a word is passed between them. Not a sound is heard. The storm begins to calm. The sun comes dim but visible through gray clouds that make promises of another rainy day. Bella lays a defeated head on his shoulder, her sweet fragrance invading his senses, and Emmett Cullen knows that when that day comes, he won't be able to stop. Knows that one rainy day, he'll come after another man's wife and kiss her. Just to see her smile.