A/N - Excuse our lame assness. We are complete geeks at heart. You still love us right?
maxipoo1024: Hey, B! I have an idea...
branchirps: Give it to me
m: We should write something together that will be all sorts of epic
b: Oh like a colab love it. What are we gonna write?
m: Something that hasn't been done before.
b: Like Epic crack...with a plot
m: Crack is whack yo! Seriously, wtf would you suggest a crackfic? You are really OCD to a fault. I work your chapters till my fingers bleed and then you send it back to me at least three times. Not to mention I usually need a beer or a keg by the time I'm done just so I can unwind from dealing with your crazy control freakishness. I don't see how you could roll with my sort of crack. You know how I love my crack!
b: lmao She dosen't lie folks! I drink for an entirely different reason, to escape the insanity inside my head. My obsessions are taken very seriously. How she puts up with me I will never know but we have formed a fated oppisites-attract-love of shoes and booze kind of bond!
m: How do you feel about anal?
b: Bahahahah mhhh now that's one I'm sure has been done before what with all the slash and all.
m: Don't get me wrong. I love my anal just as much as the next porn star but I was thinking...
b: Oh you mean like OCD anal rentitive? *momentary laps of head in the gutter*
m: See this is why I love you. You can read my mind. I'm thinking along the lines of American Psycho kind of anal/OCD. Could you imagine...Analward forced to deal with a Bella that is just a trainwreck?
b: Alright heads out of the gutter and anal out of the a** and in front of retentive, hence Analward
m: You totally need to do the anal...at least once *snickers*
b: So trainwreck? Like Crazy Train...hmm Im getting a picture in my head
m: You know what my idea of a Crazy Train is? A night with all the Cullen men. That is one train I would definitely like to ride. All night long. Damnit, now I have that really bad Lionel Richie song stuck in my head. Are you thinking what I'm thinking? EPIC WHACKED OUT CRACKED OUT PLAYLIST! WOOOO! Okay, apparently I started drinking early today.
b: You drink early everyday who are you kidding? Ozzy, Lionel Richie, Showtunes, Classical, Rap,Indi, Rock you know the stuff memories are made of!
m: Okay, enough with the lists, B! We got to get this show on the road. And I do not drink every day. Maybe just a little...
b: Sorry, see she has to keep my tendencies under control. You write Trainwerckella...no that would definitely be a strech. O.o
m: Oh come on! It's a perfect fit. You know how utterly chaotic I can be.
b: Ahhh... love at fist sight, or not! A little crack fic meets, disaster, meets heartfelt confessions. hope you hop aboard and take a ride with us.
m: And so our crazy crack-baby love child is born. *no offense to crack babies. I'm actually the product of a crackhead. Can you tell? Long story... Mom, liked the pipe a lot and didn't realize she was preggo. I just meant you know crackfic meets a baby Bran and I made with love... Oh forget it! Okay, we'll shut up now. Strap yourselves in... this is a crazy train!
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended. SM would run the other way if she saw this Bella of that I'm certain. We are just having some fun.
Full Summary: We all have a past; a road once traveled. Some lead to obsessions, some to compulsions, and some to flight. Regardless, our paths are set for us. Can two seemingly opposite individuals truly find solace in the very offending nature of each other? A collision course is set, personalities clash and people collide. Meet Trainwreckella and Analward as they push buttons and get under each other's skin. Sometimes the very best relationships start our as a complete and utter disaster.
Collide
Chapter 1
Claire de Lune or loon?
EPOV
Today begins like every other day, just how I prefer it with three chimes on my PDA and exactly five minutes later two, buzzes on my alarm. I am up and in the steaming hot shower, shaved and dressed within the next twenty minutes. The automatic coffee timer has already begun and is just sending its last drip into the carafe, waiting for me to prepare one cup of piping hot, slightly creamed coffee. Two swirls of the coffee spoon and one test sip, meets my approval—one hundred and seventy degree, fresh brewed perfection in a cup.
I sit and sip my coffee as I look over the appointments that I have set for the day. I remember today is the day Angela will be leaving to go on maternity leave. I make a mental note, and an electronic one, to remind Angela to explain in detailwhat I expect from the temp that the company is sending for her replacement today. I finish my cup of coffee and pour one to go, two more swirls of the spoon, and I tighten the lid on the stainless travel mug to carry with me. Placing the spoon in to the dishwasher and wiping down the counter, my eyes search the room briefly making sure everything has been returned to normal.
Satisfied with my findings, I turn and head for my garage, taking the thirty-five steps to my shiny silver Volvo. I click the key pad twice, unlocking the doors, so I can place my things in the well behind the driver's side. I promptly remove my suit coat and place it on the hanger for my commute. I slide into the cool leather seat and depress the opener for the garage door. As I wait the six and a half seconds for the door to rise I check my gauges and mirrors, everything seems to be in order and then I remember it is Friday. I check my tire pressure on Fridays. My vehicle has a built in monitoring system but you can never be too sure about these things.
The short twenty-two minute commute to work allows me to listen to Clair de Lune four times in its entirety and a third of the way through the fifth. I park in the space with a faded yellow seven. I should really bring that to someone's attention the space numbers need repainting. As I slide my suit coat back on, carefully avoiding any unnecessary wrinkles, I send Angela a quick text while I wait for the elevator, alerting her to the fact my car is ready to be taken in today for its routine scheduled maintenance. The rear left tire is .25 psi below recommendation.
As I arrive on the ninth floor like I do ever Friday, Angela greets me and offers to take my mug to freshen my coffee. That is when I notice her. Never in my thirty-four years have I seen anything quite as inexplicable as her. Angela gives me a look I am unable to decipher, and I am struck with a whiff of what I can only describe as a heavy hand on the perfume bottle of some exotic scent. I cover my face with my closed fist and try to inhale a discrete fresh breath without choking. Then she steps closer, ignoring my personal space entirely. I feel as if every one of my five God given senses is in sensory overload with this womanstanding before me. Everything inside my head comes to a screeching halt.
Angela is speaking and I think I hear her say that this chaotic mess standing before me is to be my new personal assistant. I'm sure all the color is instantly drained from my face. Angela is… This thing is…she is… Huh? Where the hell does one find such a complete inappropriate mess? You'd think with the current recession it would be easy to find an eager professional ready, willing and able to work. I don't allow my eyes to take in anymore of her, afraid of what I might discover. I may be a red-blooded male but this inappropriate mess of chaos before me absolutely cannot, under any circumstances, be my assistant for any length of time.
She looks like a cross between someone belonging in some god awful country music video portraying a waitress at Hooters and a hippy-free-loving poster child left over from the sixties. I will have to discuss this with Angela immediately.
"Mr. Cullen, this is Ms. Isabella Swan. She will be your temporary assistant until the agency can find someone who will be available on a long term basis while I am out on my maternity leave." Angela hints at my agitation and enunciates the word temporary. I exhale and lock eyes with Angela, avoiding any further glance at the severely inadequate assistantstanding before me.
"Bella, just Bella." Christ she is speaking and offering to shake my hand. I don't even want to look at her let alone touch her, but I am never rude.
"Cullen. Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Swan." I don't take her hand and barely make eye contact.
"Angela, I need to speak with you for a moment in my office."
I walk in and stand by the door waiting for Angela to enter so I can close the door behind her. She bursts into tears.
"I'm so sorry, Mr. Cullen. It seems there was a mix up and the request I had put in for an assistant was overlooked so Ms. Swan was the only available temp they could find last minute."
I cinch my eyes tight and tent my hand above my brow as I lower my head and breathe deeply. Angela's tears are just the thing that sends me over the edge. Angela doesn't cry. Angela is a professional, a reliable dedicated personal assistant. Christ, why did she have to get pregnant? I need Angela. I can't work with that thing out there for a single moment. Angela already seems to be checked out on maternity leave. What stands before me now, instead, is a pregnant emotional void, and she has screwed this up royally. Nothing is going as planned today. From the moment I checked my tire pressure until I stepped off the elevator, this day has headed towards the shitter and it seems to be getting worse with each passing moment.
"Angela, please don't cry. So what did HR say exactly…" My ringing phone interrupts us. I huff and answer indicating to Angela to sit and wait.
"Cullen, Hello sir. Yes, sir. It's complete and awaiting final approval of the client. Yes. Today? Where? Yes, sir. When? No that is not a problem at all I will handle it personally. Thank you. I will let you know when I am on my way. Good Day." I hang up the phone. "Christ! I have to drive to Forks. How far away is Forks, Angela?"
"About four hours, Mr. Cullen." She still sounds weepy. "When do you need to leave?"
"Now."
"Mr. Cullen, your car, sir…it um… It has already been taken in for its scheduled maintenance. "
"What? What the hell am I going to do now? I have to take the final plans to Mr. McCarty for his final approval and he is in Forks. How the hell am I supposed to get to Forks, four hours away, without my car?" I don't raise my voice but I am beyond irritated. Just then, there is a slight knock at my door before it swings wide open and I see the brunette who looks to be wearing hillbilly lingerie to work, carrying a mug of steaming hot liquid with her. I look on in annoyance.
"Yes?" I am curt.
"Mr. Cullen, I brought you some green tea. I always carry some loose tea leaves in my bag. Lots of antioxidants and it helps clear the toxins from your body. You looked a little peakid to me. This should help." She is smiling and walking towards my desk as if it were the most natural thing to do. I'm shocked and repulsed as I look to the hobo type bag she has slung across her body. Actually the bag seems to have more fabric holding it together than her entire body.
She reaches in her bag and grabs a handful of what looks like trash to me. She slams it down on my recently polished, mahogany desk. Her tiny fist opens up and slithers away like some sort of extinct reptilian sea creature. She leans over and eyeballs the pile. She plucks out a piece of dental floss and some Starburst candy wrappers. I look at the pile of crap she has left on my desk and it's beginning to make me gag. She proudly fishes out some loose tea leaves in a small baggie and smiles. Ugh, the thought of consuming any of said beverage is repulsive. I just stare at her afraid to open my mouth or breathe.
"Actually, Mr. Cullen is a coffee drinker, Bella, and it is on the detailed list I left for you. If you don't mind, we are actually in the middle of something. I need to find a car for Mr. Cullen he has some business that requires his immediate departure to Forks, a nearly four hour trip," Angela speaks up and I remember why I am so fond of her. We both just stare at Bella and she doesn't move.
"Forks? Wow what a small world. I'm from Forks and I have a car. Also it doesn't take four hours I have a short cut. It'll only take three hours and twenty minutes tops." The green-tea-wing-slinging-backwoods-bandanna-wearing-guru has a huge white smile on her face. Angela and I exchange glances.
I hate tea.
E/N So we will try not to bore you with long ass A/N in the future, but there are a few more things. We really do have a crazy play list for this story and you can find it on our profile page soon. The titles of each chapter are all derived from songs on the playlist so it seemed fitting to start with Claire de Lune. What do you think of Edward? And Bella so far? You get inside Bella's head next all I can say is hang on tight the ride is about to get bumpy.
Reviews are better than the shocked state Bella has left Edward in…can you shock us? Leave one.