SINGING OUT LOUD

Summary: Do you ever sing out loud when you think you're alone – but then you get caught? A story about bike rides, silly songs and a handsome stranger.

Pairing: E/B

Rating: T. It's all very very innocent. I think.

Written by: Lotus Wright

Edward Cullen enjoyed living a healthy lifestyle. As a doctor – even as insignificant as his first-year residency status was – he felt he had to be a role model… The kind of person who inspires others. So he had inadvertently become that annoying friend who 'encourages' you to give up smoking; the one who trains for marathons in his spare time… the guy that says, "I'll just have water, please," when going out to a bar with friends. And of course, the person that makes you feel personally responsible for the earth's destruction when you get in your environmentally-unconscious, gas-slurping vehicle as he hops on his bicycle. Not because that's what he's saying to you, but because the image of such a healthy, idealistic young man riding his bike ignites the guilt in you because you know your car is bad. It's all just easier to ignore when not faced with a guy like Edward.

He wasn't a bad person, though. In fact, he had many friends that liked him enough to overlook his slight 'holier-than-thou' syndrome. To them, he was just a loving, caring, occasionally funny dude who was always punctual and always traveled by bike. Edward didn't mean to be patronizing or judgmental, he was truly sincere in his idealism. He was one of those people that genuinely enjoyed the thirty-five-minute bicycle ride.

As Edward started his commute home – somehow still lively after a grueling sixteen-hour shift – Bella Swan walked out the door of the coffee shop where she worked and approached her bike to do the same.

That was, however, the only thing they had in common when it came to this particular physical activity.

Bella hated her bike with a vengeance – but she hated rain even more. Having to rely on transportation without a roof in a city like Seattle meant frequently getting very, very wet. Today was a sunny spring day, so, at least, she couldn't moan about the weather. But the fact remained that Bella would avoid physical activity if at all possible (with the notable exception of sex, but that goes without saying). She only rode her bicycle because she was a poor student who needed to work and save money, and, therefore, had exchanged her money-guzzling piece of crap truck for a rickety, second-hand bike.

Today was the first day of car-less transportation, which made the silent complaining about getting soaked from the rain a little premature. This morning's bike ride had been uneventful, boring and long, and had made her leg muscles announce themselves in a painful way – it was glaringly obvious that Bella's toned figure was thanks to good genes, and not due to any kind of effort on her part.

As she began the first mile of her six-mile journey she ran through her grocery list in her mind and tried to force herself to remember that she would need to bring her iPod tomorrow; perhaps this commute would be a little more entertaining with music in her ears.

For now, she'd just make do with singing songs inside her head.

Except that there was no one around, the bike path long and silent, and she craved sound. She glanced around to double-check that she was alone, and hid the bottom half of her face in her scarf. The incognito-by-scarf look made her take on the part of an amateur bank robber, if bank robbers rode bicycles. However, the possible embarrassment of getting caught belting out songs in public was enough motivation to cover up.

Softly, as she passed the few houses in the park-like area she was riding through, she gave into the temptation.

"I was feeling done iiiiiiiiiiiin," she sang, slightly off-key but so quiet that her lack of vocal skill was hardly noticeable. "Couldn't win…."

It helped, she immediately noticed – her feet pedaled a little faster, and she was already looking forward to the rest of the song, instead of just hating the exercise.

"I'd only ever kissed before…
I thought there's no use getting
Into heavy petting
It only leads to trouble and seat wetting…"

Bella giggled to herself, remembering last year's Rocky Horror show at the University, where she'd been branded a 'virgin' – having never seen the show before. She thought about the difference between that show and last week's repeat performance, where she'd gone all out and dressed up as Magenta, marking a few freshmen as Rocky Horror virgins and singing along to all the songs.

"Now all I wanna know…
Is how to go
I've tasted blood and I want more, more, more…"

The song was too irresistible to sing at such a low volume, and slowly, as she biked on and still encountered no one, she grew more confident – and a little louder.

"I'll put up no resistance, I want to stay the distance
I've got an itch to scratch, I need assistaaaaaance!"

Because life is rarely fair, just as she prepared to start the chorus, her solitude was interrupted as another cyclist came around the corner and crossed paths with Bella as he headed in the other direction. There was no way he hadn't heard the last sentence – Bella's volume had grown exponentially, imagining herself Janet with all her feelings of sexual frustration.

Edward had been daydreaming, enjoying the color the spring flowers had brought to his route before he'd heard the singing. He'd only caught the last two sentences before he'd rounded the corner and saw the visible part of the singer's face turn completely red in obvious mortification.

He wanted to say something to the beautiful brunette – 'don't stop, don't be embarrassed, it was lovely, and put a smile on my face, please, what's your name, would you like to grab a cup of coffee with me?' – but as they were both in motion, and going in different directions at that, the window of opportunity to say anything at all was minuscule, and indeed, the moment was soon over. Before he could even open his mouth, their bikes were taking them farther away from each other by the second.

He looked back – fruitlessly, of course, because she'd disappeared around the corner – and chuckled. He hadn't heard Rocky Horror songs since his pre-med days (he'd made a pretty good Dr. Frank-N-Furter one time after losing a bet), and it made him smile that this beautiful girl was singing Touch-A Touch-A Touch Me out loud, in public.

The commute, while enjoyable, was mostly the same every day. If he left work at five PM, he'd wave to the old lady with the cane who walked her tiny lap dog in the street next to the hospital. He would pass the woman in the power suit that picked up her son from daycare every day at 5.25 PM, and the two teenagers that always seemed to hang out and smoke cigarettes in the park before dinnertime. There was no variety, nothing unexpected – until Rocky Horror girl. The anomaly was enough to interest him, let alone the fact that the girl, even when only partially visible and wrapped up in her brightly colored scarf, was undoubtedly beautiful. He hoped she'd brighten up his commutes more often… Maybe he'd even say hi one day.

The ten minutes of Bella's ride that followed the unexpected encounter were filled with outward silence and inward cursing, embarrassment taking over other senses. Of all the songs to get caught singing, it had to be one about wanting sex, and of all the people to run into, it was a freaking god in human form. It had only lasted a second, of course, but she'd seen his eyebrows rise, his amused expression, and most of all, his outrageously handsome face. It was unfair, really, for one person to have such a long list of beautiful features. Ugh. She hoped she'd never see him again, for surely, she would just relive her mortification every time.

For now, at least, she resolved to pass the time on her bike in silence.

Of course, the next day, Bella overslept and had to race through her morning ritual to make it to work on time – and in the process forgot her iPod. And of course, the route hadn't changed and six miles was still quite a long boring distance, and soon she found herself in the same predicament as the day before. And eventually she couldn't resist: she'd woken up with a Wicked song stuck in her head, so really, the only way to go was to just sing it, and maybe she could get rid of it.

"Whenever I see someone
Less fortunate than I
And let's face it - who isn't
Less fortunate than I?"

Bella giggled over the lyrics, and, thrilled that she hadn't had any more unexpected encounters with strangers, continued.

"My tender heart tends to start to bleed
And when someone needs a makeover
I simply have to take over
I know I know exactly what they need
And even in your case
Though it's the toughest case I've yet to face
Don't worry - I'm determined to succeed
Follow my lead
And yes, indeed…
You will be popularrrr!"

The rest of the route to work was mostly a long stretch of straight roads, and she sang through several Wicked songs without incident – not even getting caught while attempting to belt out Defying Gravity.

Having had a confidence boost from the uneventful – yet entertaining – ride to work, Bella didn't even try to fight the desire to sing out loud on the way back. She still stuck to musicals, although why, she couldn't say – perhaps it was just that these lyrics were more easily remembered.

She'd just started the chorus on Wouldn't It Be Loverly - Lots of chocolate for me to eat, lots of coal makin' lots of heat – when she spotted the handsome stranger in the distance, biking towards her and she quickly shut up, feeling the blush of yesterday's embarrassment creep up again.

At least she'd spotted him before he could hear her.

Edward wanted to shout out when he again spotted yesterday's singing girl on his way home. He could tell the exact moment she'd seen him – even from the distance, it was easy to see that her lips suddenly stopped moving. Yeah, she'd definitely been singing. He chuckled to himself. As they passed each other, they locked eyes – but neither spoke and so the moment fled as quickly as yesterday's had.

The next few weeks were much the same; their schedules were apparently so alike that they 'met' each other on their respective routes home a few times a week. They never saw each other in the mornings, as Edward's residency hours were a lot more grueling than Bella's part-time job at the coffee house. In the afternoons, Bella would sing her songs while being on the lookout for the handsome stranger. Edward, in the meantime, had changed from a relaxed cyclist that enjoyed the serenity of his surroundings to a cyclist who was constantly and completely focused on one thing only: the sight of the beautiful brunette in the distance, biking towards him. That, and working up the courage to make this day be the one where he'd use that short, fleeting moment where they pass each other, to say hi. But it always took him a beat too long to open his mouth, and the pretty girl would already be gone, and he would have done nothing but smile at her. She always smiled back, though, even the times that she spotted him too late and there was no way that he hadn't heard her singing. She was certain she'd been caught once during a rendition of Annie's Tomorrow, and once during All That Jazz, which, at least, were a lot less embarrassing as far as lyrics went. He'd still smiled at her kindly, though, and since her singing hadn't creeped him out, she figured she would try to work up the courage to say something instead of the dumbass smile she plastered on her face each time.

It was an unremarkable Thursday afternoon when Bella steeled her resolve, giving herself a pep talk before getting on her bicycle. Today would be the day she'd say hi to him. Indeed, what would it hurt anyway?

She usually met him five to ten minutes into her journey, so she distracted herself in the meantime by – what else? – singing, trying to ease her nerves by focusing on possibly the most ridiculous song she knew.

"Springtime for Hitler and Germany
Deutschland is happy and gay!
We're marching to a faster pace
Look out, here comes the master race!"

The Producers worked its wonders, and in no time, Bella found herself in the endlessly straight road where she usually saw him. For a minute as she cycled she feared today of all days she wouldn't see him – wouldn't that be the ultimate sign from the universe that she shouldn't even attempt this? – But then she spotted the familiar copper hair in the distance, the sun's rays making his untamed hair look like a wildfire. Nerves almost got the better of her and she berated herself, because really, she was just going to say 'hi,' not ask him to marry her or anything.

"Don't be stupid, be a smarty, come and join the Nazi party!"

Only a few hundred yards left between them, and both were equally worked up, waiting anxiously for the moment they'd be in earshot of each other.

Bella had, by now, reached the point of the song where the chorus sings, "The Führer is coming, the Führer is coming", and as she was simultaneously thinking, "He's coming, he's coming" about her beautiful stranger. She was struck with the inappropriateness of the song's lyrics at this moment and started giggling.

Nerves and anticipation turned her giggles into a snort and the laughter caused a quick involuntary jerk of her body, making her bike's front wheel abruptly turn sideways.

Edward, a hundred yards away, looked on in horror as the object of his affection suddenly steered straight into the grass border next to the bike path. He sped up as the girl's wheel instantly became stuck in the muddy ground, stalling the bike and making it – and her – fall over sideways. There was nothing he could do but race towards her as her expression turned to shock and her head hit the wet grass. Her bike fell with her, landing on her leg and torso with little flair or noise, trapping her underneath it.

Edward sped up his pace, thinking the worst – what if she was seriously injured? What if she broke her leg in that fall and why did she never wear a helmet? Not that he wore one, but then again, he had never randomly biked into the muddy grass.

It took mere seconds of worrying before he reached her and found her – laughing out loud? Quickly discarding his bike, he wondered how to approach her now, and a part of him thought maybe she was in shock or hysterical or maybe just crazy. She was alternating between laughter and broken sentences that he couldn't quite make out, so he crouched down next to her.

"Ha, ha, ha, ha, the - ha - Führer is ha, ha, coming oh God I can't even ha, ha the Führer is coming," she hiccupped-slash-laughed. Edward's brow furrowed because surely the 'she's crazy' conclusion wasn't the most likely one – and definitely not the one he had preferred – but it did seem probable now. He decided to stick with silence and gently lifted the bike off her body instead of talking.

Bella seemed to be trapped in a laughing fit. As much as she wanted to either finally talk to the handsome guy or magically disappear, she had a hard time getting past the stupidity of her fall, the song that was still playing in her head, and the embarrassment at being caught by the gorgeous man in front of her. So she just clenched her eyes shut and went with what her body was telling her: laugh it out.

Edward decided to wait it out – it wasn't as if this beautiful stranger could answer any questions right now anyway, and she seemed to be physically fine.

Eventually, her laughter died down, and she stopped quoting songs that sounded incredibly inappropriate for the uninformed bystander. Bella took a deep breath and opened her eyes to find her handsome stranger looking at her with a worried expression.

"Hi," she started. "I'm not crazy. Honestly."

"Hi, not crazy, I'm Edward. Sorry – bad dad joke. Let me help you up." He took her hand and tugged her gently but firmly until they were both standing upright and in very, very close proximity.

"Are you okay?" he asked, still tightly holding her hand as if he was worried she'd fly away if he let go.

"Yeah," she breathed and she was rather amazed that she could still form a word. Even one as simple as 'yeah.' Because she'd just noticed that the handsome stranger she'd admired from afar was even more beautiful up close, and the feeling of his hand wrapping around hers made her feel tingly all over.

"Um… so…" he started with an uncharacteristic lack of eloquence. "I kind of want to ask you out – or, more accurately, I've wanted to ask you out since the first time we drove by each other. But I have to ask first because honestly it's freaking me out a little bit – what's with the Führer thing?"

Bella's response was a snort followed by a giggle. "I guess you've never seen The Producers?"

"Can't say that I have, no… but I suppose it's a musical."

"Ha! Caught the genre, heh? I know, I know, enough with the musicals. But hey – I did promise I'm not crazy, right?"

He chuckled. "That you did."

"So, how about you ask me out – because technically you haven't – and we'll watch The Producers, and I'll convince you that I'm a little too much into musicals but definitely not a neo nazi?"

"Sounds perfect."

"So….?"

He looked puzzled. "What?"

"Well, you did say you wanted to ask me out, but you still haven't, so I'm just waiting for a question I can say yes to."

He laughed at that. It made sense that his singing girl was quirky and funny; she was just as interesting in reality as she'd been in his mind. "Fair enough. My lady, would you do me the honor of accompanying me on a… shit, what's an old-fashioned word for date? I don't know. Can I take you out sometime?"

She giggled at his attempt at impersonating an old-fashioned gentleman. "Rendezvous? Call? Visit? Unchaperoned meeting? But, yes. You can take me out – but let's go watch a ridiculous musical movie at my place first. Come on, stranger." She winked at him and pulled her bike upright, starting to walk away from him.

All he could do was follow.

A/N well if I had a musical-loving Bella in my story and Meli had a musical-loving Bella in Without a Smile, obviously this had to be a silly story involving lots and lots of musicals. So there you go.

Lyrics used:

Touch-A Touch-A Touch Me - Rocky Horror Picture Show

Popular - Wicked

Wouldn't it be loverly - My Fair Lady

Springtime for Hitler - The Producers