A/N: Thank you for the response to chapter one! Mac214 and WriteOnTime are our beta goddesses. A special thank you to Rebadams, our resident mortician, for her technical expertise.

Chapter Two: You Make me Cremate my Pants

"Does she even know anything about makeup?" Mother was skeptical, studying Bella's fresh, clean face appraisingly.

"Well... I could make you look less like the Crypt Keeper just by changing your foundation," Bella parried back. My Bella was fearless, even in the face of my mother, and I felt my heart and penis swell with pride.

"I beg your pardon?"

"The way you've applied it just makes the lines in your skin more pronounced," she explained. "Seriously. It's not like you can paint over a crack in the wall without applying a little joint sealer first."

Emmett came rushing into the room then, Bella's little dog-purse clutched tightly under his arm. "What's all the yelling about-"

"Tell me you did not defile my Rosie, you sick furry fucker!" Bella suddenly screeched, launching herself at him. She grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head in a classic hockey throw-down move. "Give her back or I'll pants you!"

"You weren't using it," he said defensively. "You were dead."

Mother swooned as if she was going to faint. I guess she didn't know about Emmett's penchant for copulating with stuffed toys, either. Really, we both should have seen the signs all along.

"Past tense, bitch. I'm alive now, and I want my Rosie."

My brother was over six feet tall and had a good hundred pounds on her; still, Bella enraged was surely a sight to behold. Her hair flew wildly around her head as she punched Emmett in the junk, leaving him choking and crying in a heap over the purse.

"Edward," Mother gasped. "Stop her!"

"Um, well... he did steal her dog."

"My balls," Emmett wailed, stubbornly refusing to loosen his grip on Rosie.

"Edward!" Mother was now crying, too, the tears melting her black mascara and making her appear like a distraught raccoon. "Do something!"

"Let's cut it down the middle and you can each have half," I suggested meekly. I was scraping the bottom of the barrel of ideas and had resorted to quoting scripture.

"No! Mine!" Emmett and Bella said in unison, proceeding to play tug-of-Rosie.

"But, um, wouldn't you rather the other have her than see her destroyed?" I was grasping at straws. Apparently, King Solomon hadn't been dealing with two deranged dog-purse lovers, because they both turned on me. Bella made a surprisingly formidable fist and knocked me in the shoulder. Oh, wow, it sure got me excited, except it was immediately followed by a slap in the back of the neck by Emmett's meaty hand. Soon, the two of them were pummelling me in earnest with their respective hands that weren't fighting each other for the dog-purse.

"Ow! Fudge!" I raised my arms to defend my poor bruised body. I was still aroused by Bella's blows, not to mention her foul language. I wanted to hump her some more and have her call my penis a dirty little bastard again. But preferably when my mother wasn't in the room.

"Please, Emmett... I'll buy you a season's pass to Build-a-Bear... just stop! Give her back her dog!"

Emmett finally let go of the purse, and Bella took a good look at him. "Is that MetroMan number 52 charcoal black guy-liner you're wearing?" she asked, eyeing him closely.

Emmett literally gasped and put his hand over his mouth. "Shut up! You did not just guess that!"

"I used that color on the lead singer of The Volturi." Bella shrugged.

"Fuuuu- er, fuddleducks!" he quickly corrected himself, remembering the presence of our mother in the room. "Are you some kind of cosmetic-savant?" he asked in awe, his face so bright it nearly sparkled. And then he blushed. Emmett effing blushed!

"It's what I do... or did. I lost my job when the band broke up a few months ago."

My mother continued to glare at Bella, and I was pretty sure she wanted to burn her purse in a cleansing fire. "Edward," she said stiffly. "I got a call from the Twilight Estates. Why haven't you picked up the body of Isabella Swan yet?"

Oh, well, technically I did, but Mother didn't look like she was in the mood to argue over semantics. "I think there was a snafu on the forms. They had the address of the next of kin listed as the pick-up location," I surmised. "In addition to being our new cosmetologist, Bella is the granddaughter of Isabella Swan."

"And why is this... potty-mouthed hussy attacking my Emmetty-bear?"

"Because he fucked my purse," Bella explained calmly. "Speaking of which, Emmetty-bear, do you have any STD's I should be aware of? Will Rosie need penicillin?"

"There will be no more profanity in my home," Mother said sternly, giving us all the stink-eye. "I'll call over at the home and let them know you're on your way." She nodded and exited the room with a grand pageantry befitting, well, Mother. Emmett, Bella and I were all left staring at one another like children who'd been caught stealing post-mortem rectal thermometers from the embalming room... or maybe that was just me.

Bella finally broke the silence. "Can I come with you in the hearse? It's my gran, after all. I want to make sure she's really dead."

Bella's words sparked my recurring fantasy about effing her in the hearse, and I gulped guiltily as I answered. "I want you to come in the hearse- er, I mean, with me... at the same time."

Bella shivered suddenly. "Are you cold?" I asked, looking around. Alice's mohair sweater was hanging on the back of the door, and I grabbed it to drape over Bella's shoulders.

Emmett's eyes lit up and then hooded over like a cat zeroing in on its prey, as he all but stalked Bella in the furry sweater. His legs tensed and twitched as if he was going to pounce, and I wound up to nut-punch him.

"Mine!" I hollered like a battle cry. Emmett tore his gaze away from my girl in the same moment my fist shot forward. He managed to thwart my blow by stepping to the left, so I grabbed him by his collar and pulled him up against me. I usually wasn't so aggressive, but Bella must have been emitting some kind of testosterone-inducing pheromones into the air.

"I'm taking Bella to see her dead gran. You will take my appointment this morning, or I'll tell Mother about how you lusted over the mascot next door. Capisce?"

Emmett shook me off. "No need to go all Godfather on my ass, dickward. I'll do it."

"Yeah, don't you dare go all Godfather on him," Bella agreed. "He'd only get off on waking up next to a horse head."

I held the passenger door for Bella, and she stared at me like I had inserted quarters into my eye sockets.

"Oh! Did you want to ride in the back again?"

"No. The front is fine, but I know how to open a fucking door. I'm not handicapped."

"Er... right." Even though it made me feel like an uncouth jerk, I let her close her own door and walked around to the driver's side.

"Um... so... sorry about my mother and Emmett. Fluck! I might as well just apologize for my whole family right now before this goes any further. "I have another brother, Jasper, who is... how do I explain it? He has a thing for big boobies."

"Don't all guys have a thing for big boobies?"

"This is kind of different. You see, Mother sorta breast-fed him until he was fifteen." Bella gasped at my proclamation, and I hadn't even gotten to the worst part yet. "There's a chance it caused breast separation anxiety."

"That shit just ain't right," Bella agreed.

"So, he... well... just don't be surprised if he latches on... "

"Latches on? Latches on to what?"

I sighed. "He may try to breastfeed."

"No way! My nips are for fun, not nutrition. I'll splice his sac if that jizzer comes anywhere near my titties."

I nodded. "There are certain precautions we can take so you won't be so... tempting. If you cover your nipples..." Oh, god, now I was thinking of her nipples "...with breast pads they won't poke out of your shirt like delicious, supple turkey thermometers. And don't say the word wean around him. He gets very upset."

"That sounds... reasonable."

I started the hearse and pulled out into traffic. "Maybe you'd like to come to dinner tonight and meet all of them?"

"Your mother didn't seem to like me much."

"Don't worry about her. It's just because she hasn't gotten to know you yet. My father is going to love you."

"Okay." She reached over and turned on the overhead flashing light, and I slowed down a little as I was required to do as part of a funeral cortege.

"Isn't there a siren in this thing?"

"It's a hearse, not a police car."

"Well, can't you go any faster? Let's see what this bad boy can do."

She stretched her leg over to my side and punched down on the gas on top of my foot. The wheels protested and squealed as the vehicle shot forward into traffic.

"Bella! Take your foot off mine!"

"I can't! It's stuck!"

Her heel was indeed stuck in the cuff of my suit pants, and the angle of her foot as she wiggled to extricate it had mine wedged down on the gas. She finally released her seat belt and climbed onto me, putting her rounded bottom in my lap with her hands over mine on the steering wheel.

"I can't see, Bella!"

"That's okay. I can." She unrolled the windows and screamed, deafening bystanders and lowering property values. She started gesticulating wildly while I attempted to extricate her heel from my pantcuffs.

"Move the fuck out of the way, asshats! We've got a bleeder! Ebola victim coming through!"

"What are you doing?" I asked, desperately trying to see over her shoulder.

"I really fucking hate rush hour, don't you?" She spun the wheel like a roulette, and the car careened into oncoming traffic. "Move out of the way, fucknard. This is an emergency vehicle. Don't you see the goddamn flashing lights?"

"Please," I sobbed. "I don't want to die!"

"Really? You'd think as a mortician it would be old hat." She jerked the car, and we abruptly spun ninety degrees, aligning with the curb. "Brake!"

I slammed my left foot down while groping wildly for the hand brake, all the while screaming, "I'm too young to die! I've only ever done the eff word twice, and the first time was negligible."

"Oh my fuck, calm down! Hey, I've died twice. It's not so bad."

The car jerked to a stop, and Bella cut the engine but didn't attempt to move from my lap. "Only twice, Sex Ed? That's a damn fucking shame if you ask me." She lowered her hand between my legs and cupped my manhood.

"Bella?" I gasped.

"Yeah?"

"That's not the hand brake."

Twilight Estates was set back in the forest and not visible from any of the local roads. It was the most exclusive retirement condominiums in the whole state of Washington. Potential buyers had to wait for someone to die, suffer the application process, and then survive three grueling interviews just to get on the waiting list. It was probably easier to get into the FBI headquarters at Quantico.

"She owns it."

"What?"

"Swan Princess- Gran. She owns the whole place. It's her castle. And she owns half the real estate in the vicinity. She's stinking rich. My grandfather made a mint in cosmetics and then they retired here, buying up half the state."

The condo manager met us at the tall metal front gates, and then directed us to the correct turret, letting us in the door with his pass key.

Back in the master suite, Bella's grandmother was laid out on some fancy bed covering in a slinky nightgown, her feet bare with a slight smile on her face. She didn't look like any ninety-two year-old woman I'd ever seen. Her skin was relatively smooth, and her hair was dark brown with one thick streak of grey at the front. She wore a bejewelled crown and long, white gloves.

"What happened?" I asked the orderly.

"It was Mr. Banner this time. She had him in some kind of a leg-lock, and we had to restrain her. We couldn't get a heart beat on her after. Banner is in shock. We think she drugged him."

"Ruffies?" I asked, surprised.

"Viagra," he whispered. "Ground them up and put them in his drink. It's not the first time. Let's just say Banner had a tent that couldn't be blown down."

"Not true," Bella disagreed.

That was more information than I needed to hear. "If you could give us a few minutes," I requested. "Then I would appreciate your help getting her on the stretcher."

The condo manager nodded and left, closing the door quietly behind him.

"See how she mocks us," Bella growled as she looked down at her grandmother. "She's plotting something; I just know it."

Inexplicably, Bella started winding her arm like a windmill. "Get ready, Gran. If you're not really dead, you're in for a world of hurt!"

"What are you doing?" I asked, aghast. I tried to catch her wrist, but she clocked me on the top of my head like a Whack-A-Mole.

"Get back, ass-munch. There's no way of knowing if she's going to stay dead unless I pound her for a bit. This is perfectly normal."

"Don't do it! Pound me instead," I begged, feeling my doodle stir to life at the thought. I pulled her swinging fist back to my chest and huffed excitedly. "Take it out on me!"

Isabella glared at me and said, "You're a little bit of a freak, Edward, and if I didn't have the matter of my deceptively dead gran to tend to, I'd totally make you my bitch." She ducked under my armpit and wound up again. "Last chance, old lady."

I jumped between Bella and her dead grandmother, effectively breaking up their one-sided cat fight by grabbing Bella's boobs (I panicked).

"Stop!" I yelled, squeezing her full mounds in my palms where they were conveniently situated.

"Well, it's your funeral, but I'm pretty sure she's not all-the-way dead yet."

Something snapped then. It might have been the front of my pants when Bella jumped on me and stuck her tongue down my throat. I tried really hard not to swallow it.

She grabbed onto my shoulders and wrapped her legs around my waist in a death grip that I had no intention of breaking, but I lost my balance and we tumbled backward onto the bed directly on top of Grandma Swan.

There was a loud grunt, and Bella took that as a signal to ram her tongue further down my throat, taking my larynx hostage in tongue-induced asphyxiation. I would have pushed her away for air, except I was suddenly enraptured by the feel of her hot crotch on top of my quad as she dry-humped it, squeezing my leg between her juicy thighs.

"Rhmmmphhhh," I groaned.

"Yeah, you like that shit, don't you?"

"Gurgle!" I agreed, still not able to speak around her tongue as it did its best impression of a plunger against the back of my throat. During the fraction of a second Bella let up on my air passage to take in a breath of her own, I opened my mouth to say something sweet...

"Mother-cunting-shit-fucking-nut-sucking-fudge-packing-spooge-licker, arghhhhhh..." I exploded, unable to stop the dirty words from spewing forth. I had been wound so tight, and this naughty vixen writhing on top of me unleashed the beast within.

"Oh, fuck, baby. Yeah! Don't stop." She rode my leg like it was a Tilt-a-Whirl, bucking and rolling, rising and pressing down, all the while screaming, "Your thigh is so sturdy, baby. I think I'm going to come. Flex your leg!"

Another strange grunt resounded through the room, and I noticed it hadn't come from Bella, and I was pretty sure it hadn't come from me.

"Motherfucker!" Bella yelled, releasing her sucker-fish hold on my leg. "Did you hear that bitch moan?"

"Well, yeah, but-"

"I knew it was too good to be true. She's not the least bit dead at all," Bella wailed.

"It's just air escaping," I tried to explain. "Look, her face isn't moving."

Bella pouted. "You're just saying that to make me feel better."

"No pulse equals dead," I said logically.

"I dunno..."

"You'll feel better when she's buried and out of sight."

"I'll feel better when I'm certain she's burning in hell."

"Well..." I said thoughtfully. "I could cremate her."

"Oh, Edward, you'd do that for me?"

"Of course. Um, do you think you'd do something for me?" I was about to ask her out on a date when the condo manager walked back in the room.

"Is everything alright in here?" he inquired formally.

"Perfect," Bella replied. "Wrap her up. We'll take her to go." She turned to me and winked. "And yes, Edward, I'll totally be your eff-word number three, but first you have to fricassee my grandmother."

A/N: Your reviews make us cremate our pants. A furry dog-purse for every review (we won't ask any questions about what you're going to do with it).