I wanna hold you when I'm not supposed to
When I'm lying close to someone else
You're stuck in my head and
I can't get you out of it
If I could do it all again
I know I'd go back to you
She finds him on his break at the hospital. Which means, she wanders over to the hospital on the weekend when Bella heads down to the Res, and Rosalie has nothing better to do. Nothing better, and a few questions. Carlisle isn't one for taking breaks, so when Rosalie shows up she has to drag him from his office.
And because Edward is very much his son and had to learn his dramatic ways somewhere, Carlisle goes through the motions of grabbing a disgusting cup of coffee to complain about with the nurses before they go.
He's blowing on the dark liquid, eyes bright and eyebrows wiggling just over the cup at Rosalie. "They think I'm drinking this!" he whispers excitedly.
Rosalie sighs and leads them towards the stairwell. "I need to talk to you about the wolves."
"Is there a problem?" He sets the cup of coffee down on the thick railing of the stairs to put his hands on his hips.
Ready to kick ass, maybe? If it were anyone else doing the power move but Carlisle?
She waves the thought off. "No more than usual. I merely have some questions I hope you might have answers to."
"If I have them, they're yours, Rosalie. You need but ask."
That's one of the things she loves most about Carlisle. His generous soul that gives so freely without a second thought, without conditions, without question. Sometimes she wishes she was a little more like him, that life hadn't carved her into the sharp, violent person that she is. Or that she had the fortitude to remain soft even after her hardships.
The world is still worth being soft to.
But wishing doesn't change things, doesn't change who she is, and the family needs it. Needs her, as she is. Because they're all like Carlisle. Soft and caring and giving. And the world is all too ready to take, take, take. Greed courses through the veins of humanity and someone has to protect those who don't even think of the need to protect themselves.
So she merely blinks at his kindness, just barely managing to curb the instinct to sneer at him, to attack his vulnerability in hopes that maybe next time he won't give it so freely. "What can you tell me about them? In general."
"Not as much as I'd like, I'm afraid." Carlisle frowns and slides his hands into his pockets. "A lot of it is legend, rules that cannot be applied today. Supposedly, their ability to Shift is old magic. Tracing back to one of their original Chiefs. A vampire attacked his tribe and his love for his people mixed so perfectly with his rage against the Cold One that he very literally exploded into a wolf to tear it apart.
"There are rumours I've heard through other covens that they've come across other tribes that Shift into different animals. The conversations I had with Chief Black the last time we were here support that. My thinking is that the wolf is a variable, and their ability lies solely in the shapeshifting. Besides this, the general things you should be aware of are the dangerous aspects they carry. A single wolf alone isn't quite a match for a vampire, but more than one is lethal. This is why they hunt in groups or the full pack.
"Rage triggers the Shift, and in this case, the wolf loses control. They are more beast than man when they don't choose the Shift and it is forced upon them. Always be patient, Rosalie, and try to de-escalate the situation." Carlisle hums, his brows furrowed. "As for more general information… while Shifters are more vulnerable and open to injury than a vampire -and our marble-like skin- they heal much faster than we do. They might go down in a fight quicker than we do but they also get back up quicker. Remember that."
That's not a lesson Rosalie is soon to forget. Esme in particular likes to discuss the safety and benefit in running from a fight if you can't prevent it. While vampires are mighty and a force not to be reckoned with, their venom betrays them in a fight. As it rushes to the damaged area to begin repairs, muscles become stiff and locked, to the point that movement is impaired and you're left more vulnerable than before. Something Rosalie learned the hard way in her fight with Tanya.
Carlisle watches her closely, his lips pressing together, brows slowly furrowing. His thinking face. "If there is anything else you wish to know, I would need a specific question."
And Rosalie's not one to back down from a challenge. Even a challenge that wasn't actually issued. "What do you know of their Imprinting?"
"Many believe it to be a myth," he says with an air of surprise. "Chief Black believed his brother had Imprinted but there's a chance he was just infatuated and truly in love. There hasn't been a case since. Not that they've shared, at least."
"How does the process work?"
He hums thoughtfully and holds his cup of coffee again. "It was said that the moment you saw your Imprint, the connection was established. You were linked. The wolf would know. I fear it was flimsy and vague, at best."
"Were there limits to this? Men Imprinting on men? Age? Anything like that?" she asks as casually as she can manage.
By the way Carlisle blinks rapidly, she knows she was less than casual. He taps his fingers on the cup. "I'm not sure. I know that, supposedly, they have no control over it. They don't get to pick their Imprint. Rosalie, is there something you would like to discuss."
"Nothing more than we already are," she shoots back quickly. "And now I'm finished. Good day, Carlisle."
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The wolf is fishing around in her locker when Rosalie spots her, mumbling to herself or maybe humming. She doesn't notice Rosalie on the other side of the door at first, not until she's reaching to close it, and jumps.
Rosalie quashes the urge to smile, and very desperately rips the wings of the butterflies in her stomach. "I have a question that I would like no follow up questions to once I ask it."
"Um," Bella's brows furrow curiously and she tilts her head, "sure."
"Do you have an Imprint?"
And those eyebrows shoot up, surprise dancing across her face. She shifts her books to one arm, brushing her knuckles against her jaw, and watches Rosalie closely. Too closely. "Not sure," she eventually replies and then grins. "Catch you in History."
Rosalie waits only until Bella ducks down another hallway before leaving the school, sprinting home, and face-planting in bed for the next two days.
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The Cullens are more than used to Rosalie's Moods, and know that when she retreats up to her room for days at a time, they're to leave her alone. It's the most difficult for Emmett and Esme, who have, on numerous times, ignored the warning issued by Rosalie, and ventured up. Only to race back down the stairs minutes later, warning everyone that, yeah, maybe we should just give her time.
Alice tries to give Bella that same warning when the wolf comes strolling through the front door, whistling while she balances a bat over her shoulder. The pixie hops in front of the spiralling staircase, eyes wide and happy. "Bella! I know what you're thinking but Rosalie specifically - wait, did you knock?"
Bella only raises an eyebrow, looks back down the foyer to the front door that still hangs wide open. "Nah," she grunts. "Family doesn't knock."
"That's fair," Alice agrees with a nod. "I'm confused but also heartwarmed. Rose doesn't let people in her room."
A feral grin is flashed at her that, maybe, has Alice swooning very slightly. "Oh, don't worry, kitten. I'll knock this time."
She watches Bella saunter up the stairs and can only shake her head, looking down the hall towards Edward who's trying to tame his anxious face into something less like a caricature.
On the second story, Bella strolls down the hallway. It's a nice hall, and she has to remind herself to come by for a more casual look some time, to truly take in the house and appreciate it. She follows sunshine and moonlight to a particular door, the only one that has nothing adorned on the outside, and nods to Jasper at the end of the hall. He's peeking out of his bedroom door, curious but decides not to intervene. His door quickly shuts when Bella winds the bat up.
It's a metal bat, which is probably the only reason why it doesn't snap in half when Bella brings it down on the handle of the door, and instead goes through, taking the handle with it. The music that had been blaring inside, pours out like blood from a wound. It's heavier than she expected, but she admits it's one of her favourite songs.
Inside, Rosalie looks up from her lounging position on the bed, head resting in her palm, elbow propped up on a blue pillow. She only mildly relaxes when she sees the wolf standing there, leaning on the bat like it's a cane, smooth smile and carefree eyes.
Like she didn't just pry her way into Rosalie's most sacred and private of areas. Like she isn't violently intruding just by standing there.
Rage wells up inside the vampire's chest and she leans up. "What the hell is wrong with you? How dare you smash your way into my room, into my space. What do you think you're doing?"
Just as she slides to the end of the bed to stand, Bella launches herself forward and pins Rosalie back down to the mattress, straddling her hips. She presses the bat lengthwise against Rosalie's shoulders, dark hair a curtain around them, wolfish grin in place. "Teaching you proper communication skills."
It's… it's surprising, to say the least, and not even on the list of things Rosalie was expecting, never mind the bottom of it. She does nothing at first, but stare up into dark eyes that are specced with molten gold, precious metals hungry to consume her. A look she has never received.
(Merely the pale versions of it she spots in men's eyes every day she leaves the house.
Who knew someone was capable of such passion for her?)
Black pits glare up at her, Rosalie going slack enough to slide out down beneath Bella. She grabs one of her legs, heaving Bella up and across the room.
The wolf slams back into the wall, into a large portrait of the Cullen family, done in black and white. Their clothes are outdated, time-stamped, as are their styles, but they all look the same. It's startling and endearing and makes Bella's heart beat painfully in her chest.
The portrait cracks in half, the wall covered in spider web cracks, and they both land on the vanity. Glass from the mirror rains down around her, caught in her hair, slicing her cheek. "There's a chance," glass digs into her palms, "that I may have made a mistake here."
"Get out of my room!" Rosalie snarls, and the blood makes it worse. The aroma of Bella, pure and unfiltered, saturates her room. Invades her mind, her senses. Rational thought is buried deep below layers and layers of instinct.
"You said no follow-up questions," Bella grunts as she pushes herself back up to her feet. She rolls a shoulder until it cracks, and - swings the bat down hard, across and into Rosalie's side when the vampire charges. The wall above her bed cracks around her and she bounces twice on the bed beneath, that rage in her eyes building. "You can't start a conversation with me that I'm not allowed to be in. This is give and take. You're not the only one here."
"I should be!" Rosalie snaps and blurs up to her feet. Her mind screams at her to stop but the vampire roars its demand of satisfaction. "I should be the only one in my room - get out!"
The metal bat warps in her grip, slamming Bella back into the vanity again, pinning her this time. Rosalie's thighs pressed against the wood of the vanity, Bella awkwardly sitting atop it. Solid. She's solid. Strong. She won't break. A warm hand grabs a fistfull of her shirt on Rosalie's shoulder as the vampire shakes her head, forearm across her chest and keeping her back. "And then! Then you run home to pout! Unfair," Bella accuses with another grin. Her eyes widen when Rosalie snaps her jaws in her face, and Bella forces her foot up onto the vampire's hip, kicking off with as much force as she can muster in their positions.
Rosalie skids back only a few feet, but it's enough for Bella to duck under the swing and roll across the bed, grabbing a lamp on her way to throw.
It smashes against Rosalie's elbow as she covers her face. She's strong. She's here. She's ours. "This is my room. You can't be in here."
"Too late!" Bella ducks under the mattress that's flipped up and at her, listening to something else crash behind her. "I had no choice in the matter, you know, I don't know why you're angry at me."
Closer. More. She's mine. "Get out!"
"I can't!" Bella kicks the frame of the bed into Rosalie's knee, rolling across and straddling her back this time, desperately trying to pin her arms. "You're in my room and I'm in yours, okay. That's just how it is. Stop fighting."
"Get out!"
She yelps, soaring through the air, back connecting with the ceiling and cracking before falling back down onto the enraged vampire. "I'm starting to think this was maybe a bad id-oof!"
Into the closet she goes, hangers and shirts raining down on her as the entire room spins. She wipes her palm under her nose, looks down at the blood and - yup. The break wasn't healed properly. Set the nose, always set the nose before it heals.
Fingers dig into her shoulders and she's lifted into the air, Rosalie turning to look at her window. "Oh, hey, no! Not going through the window, definitely not a fun time. Hale. Hale!"
Rosalie takes a step out of the closet and Bella blinks, stretching her legs to wrap around the vampire's waist. She lifts her arms between Rosalie's and slams them sideways, knocking her hands off Bella's shoulders, long enough for Bella to wrap her arms around Rosalie in a hug. She buries her face in a neck that smells like sunshine and moonlight, squeezing her eyes shut.
The embrace is warm, Bella is always so warm, and tight. It's… it's a solid hug, Bella is moulded right to her. She can feel the wolf's heartbeat right over her own still heart. It's… it's almost like having one herself. It's…
Rosalie swallows the venom pooling in her mouth, standing in the middle of the room awkwardly, with Bella squeezing her tightly. A gold ring glows faintly around her pupils, the rage that had churned like acid in her stomach fading back to the embers they always are. She looks out at the destruction of her room, replays it all back in her mind.
Had she really attacked Bella like that?
Are her hands truly only capable of destruction?
"I'm sorry," she whispers absently.
She attacked Bella? Just for entering her room?
The wolf pulls back enough to peer up into ever brightening eyes. She swallows and also looks around the room, sheepish. "Well, I - you know, maybe, um. Could have handled this better. I should, I'll take half the blame here. Impulse control - really control of any kind, is not my strong suit. I'm-I'm sorry."
"No," Rosalie sighs with disappointment. "I did this. Trust me. I'm very skilled at wrecking things."
She turns to look at Bella, their eyes meeting and noses almost bumping. She's reminded of their position and her posture gets very rigid once more. Bella hums. "I mean, it's not totally ruined. Couple of mistakes were made, a few cracks and broken pieces, nothing you can't fix."
Golden eyebrows tug together ever-so-slightly.
Bella snorts. "Unless you'd rather run away again?"
"No."
Those dark eyes trace over Rosalie's face tenderly again and it's just as debilitating as the first time. Bella slides down to her feet, hand on Rosalie's shoulder. "Good. I'd… well, I'd miss you more than my shadow. Later, Hale."
Bella stops only to pick up her mangled baseball bat before she's out the door. Rosalie's shoulders sag and she stares down at the chaos of her room, reaching down to pick up one of the picture frames of her family, and sets it back on the nightstand.
Down below, Esme huffs up at the ceiling. "I feel like that would have been better suited to a conversation." She goes about her painting, muttering to herself the whole way. "Dramatic children. Let's destroy a room instead of talking to each other. Worse than when Emmett brought home that bear…"
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The line moves up, everyone taking a step forward. Rosalie can hear the hesitant half-step the others take behind them, and crosses her arms over her chest. She shifts ever closer to her brother, feels his tranquillity wrap around her like a comfort blanket. "This is moronic," she mutters.
Jasper chuckles and shakes his head. "I think it is terribly sweet - ow! What did Miss Esme say about pinching?!"
"A pinch over a punch."
He rubs his arm with a scowl and they both watch the line behind them take a step back. Hear the hearts around them stutter, as their fear slowly starts leaching into the air around them. Rosalie sees his black eyes fall to his boots before he smoothes out his face to something more neutral. She looks over her shoulder and lifts her lip in a silent snarl, something worthy of being feared by the snivelling masses.
A few kids leave the line altogether, and Jasper shakes his head again. "That's not helping."
"I don't care."
"Care enough to endure the dance for Bella. To stand in line for tickets just to have the opportunity to ask."
She steps forward with the line, taps her fingers against her elbow rhythmically. "I'm not asking. She's going."
"Seems a little pushy."
"She owes me a door. A dance will suffice."
The grin is back. "You old romantic," he teases. "Going to woo your girl on the dance floor?"
Golden eyes roll to the ceiling. "Remind me again why I brought you with me?"
"You took a swing as soon as my lovely wife asked, Emmett lost his keys on the way out the door, and Edward… well, you know your relationship with him. Plus, I'm your favourite."
"I need more siblings."
Golden eyebrows hop in a challenge. "If you'd rather I purchase my tickets some other time…" He makes it half a step before his sleeve is captured in an iron grip. "I enjoy this back and forth you have going with the wolf."
Rosalie eyes him wearily. "I sense a but."
"You can sense my butt, Cullen!" The statement is punctuated with a whistle.
That dies in Mike's throat when Rosalie turns to face him in all her enraged glory. "I will end your bloodline," she tells him seriously.
He visibly pales before them, shrinking back and looking away. His eyes light up when he spots something down the hall. "Bella! Tell your girlfriend to relax!"
Surprise and mortification battle in Rosalie's chest in the few seconds it takes for her to turn around. Bella catches her eye, leaning on the ticket table as she slides a few bills to Angela. She grins, slow and wicked. "Relax, Hale." Rosalie holds her breath, smothers the growl as her mate saunters past her. Bella stops to shove Mike out of line. "You're lucky she didn't face-butt your creepy-ass mug, Newton. Scram."
Rosalie waits until she's confident enough that Bella is gone, before spinning around to her brother. "What does all that mean?"
"I think it means you have an anger issue. Rosalie, you cannot go around headbutting people. They're children!"
"Not-" she scrubs a hand down her face, "I should have brought Alice. Not that. Everything else."
Jasper snaps his fingers. "Ah, the Responding To Girlfriend And Not Denying It thing?"
"Yes. That."
"I also noticed it."
Rosalie stares at him for a few silent moments. The line movies a few more paces and she blinks. "Are you doing this to me on purpose?"
"I can help with that paranoia, if you'd like."
"I hate sneaky psychics, I really do."
Jasper barks out a laugh that startles nearby students. "Technically, only Alice is psychic."
"You're all the same and I hate you all," she grumbles. His face is too happy when she looks back up and her lips twitch, threaten to crack into a smile. She scoffs and looks away, replaying that last few minutes of her life. "You refer to her as a wolf more than the others do."
The smiles on his face eventually dims again and he clasps his hands behind his back. "Lest we forget what she is."
"Do you think I'm unaware?"
He considers this as he watches his sister stare ahead in line, refusing to meet his eye. "Sometimes I think you choose to ignore it. This is difficult enough, without the added complications of her being a wolf and you being a vampire."
"She's not like the others," Rosalie mutters.
"No, but she's still one of them." He steps forward with the line again, the next ones to purchase tickets. Angela tilts her head to look at them past the students currently paying and Jasper inclines his head. "You and I have always gotten along, Rosalie, from the begging. If only for the reason that we both understood the other would protect the family at any cost."
A rumble builds in Rosalie's chest as they step up to the ticket table. "You will not touch Bella," she warns under her breath.
"Afternoon, Angela. Mighty fine setup you have here," Jasper greets as he leans down to write his name and Alice's on the attendance list. "I pray I will not have to, but Alice comes first. Always."
He nods at them both, tucking the tickets into his shirt pocket. Angela smiles nervously at the energy she can feel coming from them both, eyes widening when the pen cracks in Rosalie's fingers. Ink pools around Bella's name like blood on the page, before she carves her name beneath.
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Esme is beaming beside her and it's very difficult to hold onto her furious mask. The woman is damn near bouncing, and Rosalie digs her fingers into her hips. "This is the ugliest door I have ever laid eyes on."
It's a gross yellowy-green, the shade you might find inside a baby's diaper. A large chalkboard is attached to the front, Rosey-Wosey's Room, no entre scrawled across it.
Esme coos, fingers flitting over her daughter's arm. To be quite frank, she had been in a bubbly mood ever since Bella stopped by that afternoon, while Alice had kidnapped Rosalie to take her dress shopping.
"She's simply lovely, Rose! I'm so happy for you!"
But her words might as well have been shouted into the void. Nothing sinks in, Rosalie utterly perturbed by the sight of her door. "She stapled sunflowers to it."
"Oh, um," Esme fights the smile on her face, "I did notice she was carrying a nail gun when she left."
Rosalie's eyebrows shoot up and she quickly opens the door (internally sighing at the ornate squirrel door handle), and looks at the other side. The other side, where sharp nails poke through and threaten to impale those who get too close. "Literal nine-inch nails."
Considering the music she was listening to when Bella barged in, she isn't surprised.
God, she adores this wolf.
"I hate her."
"Oh, yes, we can all see that, dear," Esme hums happily.
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