Title: Sixth Sense
Author: ondragonflywing
Rating: T (just to be safe)
Verse: Twilight
Claim: General
Characters: Emmett/Rosalie
Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight.
Summary: Emmett refelcts on the main ways he can tell that ROsalie is upset.
Emmett always knew when something was wrong with his Rosalie. He knew the signs to look for, the things she did to over compensate, the signals she would send and the things that she didn't even know she did. He could always sense it, in every way possible.
When Rosalie wasn't happy, sometimes he could see it, she would frown, like she had when she had first realized that he was interested in her as more than a friend. She felt it too, of that he was sure, but she'd been worried and afraid. After all, her memories of men, didn't exactly paint the species in a forgiving light. It took many soft smiles, whispered assurances, gentle touches, and most importantly time and patience, for Emmett to prove his feelings were true and not volatile. And it had been worth every destroyed house.
She didn't know it, really, but she got distracted when she was sad about things, like the los of her family, or her ability to have one. She fell back on human habits. Sometimes she would bathe, since it once brought her such peace. Sometimes she would spray on perfume. He knew now the scent of sadness and remorse. And he hated smelling it on his Rosalie. Usually though, his antics brought her around.
Sometimes he could hear her discontent. When she was angry or frustrated, her voice rose ever so slightly, usually not enough for anyone to notice unless she was extremely angry or frustrated. This ahd happened when Bella had joined Edward's life. And when she was sad, it would crack with tears that she couldn't cry. During these times he would simply hold her, hug her, or give her a chaste kiss, meant for nothing other than comfort.
When she worried, like she did over their family's safety from the newborn vampires, he could literally reach out and touch it. And he always did, gently stroking away the creases in her forehead until it's beauty was no longer marred.
And on rare occasions, when he was the reason she was so upset, like when he said something stupid, without realizing it, he could taste it, like acid, when she said harsh words meant to slice him to his very core. He hated that taste. He spit it on the ground. Sometimes it even drove him to drink water. But it always led him to apologize. He hated the flavor, he wanted it gone as soon as possible. And he wanted it to turn to something else, that he could fix.
But what he hated the most was when she was so hurt that she wanted to hide it from him. Like now. They were waiting to go to the airport to pick up a pregnant Bella. And though her smile was in place, her voice was perfectly on pitch, she smelled simply sweet like Rosalie always did, her forehead was not covered in worry lines, and her words weren't slicing at him. He still knew. He could sense that everything about her was being faked. He hated it most because he knew that this he could not fix. All he could do was hold her hand, in silence.