A/N: Huge thanks to my Beta MyHubbyIsATwilightWidow for all her help, to Tima83 for her help too and to Amy for all her support. Thanks guys!
Taking Care of Baby
Edward POV
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These early morning calls were a bitch. Wanting to be ready to shoot as the sun comes up? Couldn't they just do that stuff with lights? In the day time, on a warm, dry soundstage? I pulled the quilt tighter round me and buried my head in the pillow, determined to make the most of the precious six minutes before the alarm went off again. Damn snooze function.
The bed was warm and comfortable, and I drifted off again, sinking contentedly back into the world of semi-sleep. For five and a half minutes.
"Feeling Good" blared from my phone again, mocking me as I was jerked out of sleep for the second time. Damn, Muse were so loud in the morning.
Okay, okay, I'm up.
I stretched and yawned and threw back the quilt, swinging my legs around and off the bed quickly before I changed my mind.
Fuck, it's cold in here.
I rubbed my eyes and shook my head, trying to wake myself up.
God, I'm tired. I really need more than three hours sleep at night. Really need to get infuriating women off my mind at night, too.
That was why I was so tired; I couldn't get to sleep thinking about Ms Swan for reasons I couldn't even begin to understand.
I wasn't positive, but I was pretty sure I dreamt about her, too. I dreamt I was chasing a witch in a black pointy hat. Every time I caught up with her, she cast a spell on me. I shook my head and sighed. Pretty weird. I shouldn't have gone to the Harry Potter premiere. Alice only insisted I went so she could go with me. She loved Harry Potter. Anyway, whatever the reason, the three hours sleep I had managed obviously hadn't been very restful.
Getting a 5:00 a.m. wakeup call wasn't the worst thing on earth, but it kind of felt like it this morning. I got groggily to my feet, hoping a shower would help me feel a bit more human, and strode as quickly as I could across the room and into the bathroom. Damn, it's cold.
But the shower didn't help much. I was still feeling tired and out of sorts as I dressed, skipped shaving as my character needed to look 'scruffy' today, and headed down stairs to the kitchen for breakfast.
I wandered into the kitchen, glancing round fake casually to see who was there already. Who was I kidding? I was looking for Ms Swan. I wasn't sure whether to be pleased or disappointed when she wasn't there. After psyching myself up for the last half an hour, it was a bit of a let down. I wanted to see if there was still that something between us. That pull or whatever the hell it was. I was mildly irritated that she was still consuming my thoughts. I couldn't understand why I was still thinking about her. I couldn't possibly be attracted to her; she had been nothing but cold and indifferent to me, and we had absolutely nothing in common.
There was an impressive choice of breakfast items laid out, but nothing much appealed me, though the coffee was definitely a step in the right direction. I'd been tempted to skip breakfast altogether, and therefore the torture of Ms Swan's presence, but I knew from experience that a hot meal was pretty much essential before going and standing around outside in the cold for hours, which was basically what my job was.
Stop fucking procrastinating. Man up and go and face her.
Yeah, that was what I was trying to put off doing. Going and facing Ms. Stern Face to get my costume for the day. Pathetic.
Phil, one of the camera operators, walked in then, and we spent ten minutes or so going over the day's scenes together while she told me about the set up for today. My character was going to be running through some woods and across the lawns of the house. For some scenes, Phil was going to be in front of me with her camera set on a quad bike, keeping pace with me as I ran. She would get close up shots, and another camera would get distance shots later. I was pretty sure I was going to be doing a lot of running today.
Phil stepped outside via the old servant's door for a few minutes to survey the sky and check the weather. Since it was still dark, she couldn't see the clouds and came back grumbling that she couldn't tell if the misty rain was going to clear. During her working day, Phil spent as much time watching the clouds and the sun as she did peering through a camera.
Sunrise was due at 6:51, so the call sheet said, and we needed to get a walk through, a safety check, and a rehearsal in before then. I was used to being where I was told and doing what I was told during a shoot. I was just one part of a machine, doing one job, and even on this stripped-bare shoot, there were a lot of other people working to make this film happen. People who were already outside setting up.
Speaking of which, I could put it off no longer, and I left the bright warmth of the kitchen and walked down the gloomy, cold corridor towards Wardrobe, telling myself that perhaps things would be different this morning. I might find that I had imagined the effect she had on me and that she would greet me with a big smile.
But bollocks did she.
She greeted me with the tightest of smiles and didn't meet my eyes again. Damn it. Managing to conveniently forget all the attributes that I had catalogued during dinner the night before, from shiny hair to cute dimples, I walked across the room towards her, convinced that this annoying woman couldn't possibly have any sort of effect on me. It wasn't possible for someone I disliked so much to have any kind of magical pull for me.
But as I looked at her, as I moved towards her, I started to feel that strange faint tugging feeling again. .
What. The. Fuck?
I'd tried to describe the sensation to Alice last night, but she had just gone all quiet, ah ha-ing at me like an idiot. When I could have really done with some female advice, she decides to shut up. She and I were going to have words when this was all over.
"Good morning, Mr. Masen." Her voice was again quiet, soft and attractive, strong and compelling, yet faintly vulnerable. It suited her. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut for a moment. What the hell was I on about? This was Ms Swan, not some normal woman.
"G'morning," I muttered, opening my eyes and taking a deep cleansing breath. Let's get on with it. She seemed to get the message as she gestured to the rails of clothes I had changed behind yesterday.
"Your outfit is hanging behind there. Unless you'd rather change upstairs, of course?"
I glanced at her. Nope, still not looking at me. This woman really didn't like me.
Fiddling with her fingers in front of her, she continued, "I can bring your costumes to your room from now on if you prefer. I didn't this morning because I had to get the T-shirts ready for you."
"No, here's fine." Once again I found part of myself not wanting to leave her presence, even though the rest of me was screaming at me to bail.
I stepped round behind the rails once again, thinking about how cold it was going to be when I stripped off, and realised that the room was actually quite warm, which was a pleasant surprise; most of the rest of the house was freezing cold. I had certainly taken my kit off in far worse conditions. I checked what was neatly hanging on the hanger in front of me. It was a T-shirt and jeans for me today with trainers, which was good since we were working outside doing the action shots. I changed slowly, automatically, my mind thinking about other things, namely Ms Swan. Damn it.
It was several minutes before I realised that she was still waiting for me to finish getting dressed. I had been lost in my thoughts, and they were all of her; the strange juxtaposition of her shy behaviour at dinner, her curt manner with me, and her confident professionalism with Jason. I jerked my thoughts back to the job at hand. Before going out to a shoot, I should have been preparing. I was very conscientious in my work and always gave it one hundred percent of my concentration. I didn't want to be anything less over the next few days just because a witch woman in wardrobe had made me lose my mind. I smirked as I remembered my dream.
She watched me as I stepped back out into the room, her eyes fixed to my chest rather than my own eyes. "Please try and take care of the T-shirts today, Mr. Masen. They have to last two days, and I only have three of them." Her voice was soft as she admonished me.
"The jeans and trainers have doubles, too, but the tops are always more vulnerable," she continued. "You know, accidents during shooting, coffee spills, that kind of thing." She was looking a little anxious as she fiddled with the hem of her shirt. At last, a normal human reaction.
I was well aware that the smallest mark on a costume could cause continuity problems. I'd always done my best to accommodate whatever the wardrobe department had asked me to do, even down to wearing big plastic bibs when I was shooting a period film once, but still, I couldn't help maybe stirring Ms. School Marm up a bit. I really wanted to see the spark that she had shown last night when she was talking to Jason again.
Don't ask me why, it would probably just be directed at me.
"I'll do my best," I teased her cautiously, narrowing my eyes at her. "No promises, mind." Her brow furrowed even deeper at my cavillier attitude to her precious costume, and I chuckled to myself. Perhaps she wasn't as impervious as I thought. "I've not ruined anything for a while now; hope this shoot won't end my run of luck." If she wasn't so irritating and annoying, she'd actually look quite appealing the way she was trying not to look all cross and not succeeding.
I risked tossing a wink at her, letting her know that I was messing with her, and surprisingly was rewarded with a slight blush as she muttered a response. What do you know?
"Try," she bit out acidly, and, eyes to the floor, she pulled her disapproving look back into place. Yeah, definitely appealing in other circumstances. Like, if we didn't hate each other.
Those few minutes together in her room had been energising though somehow, and a couple of hours later, going over and over the first scene of the day didn't seem too bad when I had the memory of her strangely appealing cross expression to think back on. She was definitely fun to mess with. And I hated to admit it, but she was doing a good job out here, too. She'd snapped some pictures of me with a camera to use as reference, and now she stood off camera next to Angela holding the long padded coat that I wore between takes, always ready with it whenever I needed it. It was damn cold out here even though the sun was trying to shine, much to Phil's frustration, and I noticed that Ms Swan folded the coat carefully and held it against her, keeping the warmth inside and preventing the damp from getting to it. I wondered if that was coincidence, but I conceded that she'd probably been doing this job for a while and just knew how to look after her actors.
Her actors. Not a chance. But damn, even though she irritated the hell out of me and she treated me like a three year old with the plague, I couldn't help the feeling of being pulled towards her and wanting to see her nose crinkle up with annoyance when I threatened her precious T-shirts.
~~oo0oo~~
Everyone was happy with the dawn takes, luckily, or we might have been back out here again tomorrow morning. We were moving to film more complicated shots of me running between the trees next, and Alec, the safety guy, was walking me through the course that I would be taking through the woods. The light still wasn't very good, and Alec had been round the course yesterday, removing anything I might trip over and marking obstacles with yellow sticky tape on my approach side that the camera wouldn't pick up. I was hugging a polystyrene cup of coffee to me, enjoying its warmth as we walked the course together, discussing the various hazards and how to avoid them. The last thing anyone wanted, me most of all, to be honest, was for me to get poked in the eye with a branch or trip over and break a leg or something.
Alec was pointing out an area of ground he had marked to be avoided when it happened. He couldn't mark it with tape because it would be in the shot, but had put a warning mark just before it for me. It was a patch of gravel on a slope, one that I would almost certainly slip on, he said, if I tried to run across it at speed. It was pretty dark still, and I couldn't really see what he was showing me.
And I was a guy. I just had to try and prove him wrong. It was in my genes.
"What? This gravel here, Alec?" I asked, walking towards it. "It looks okay to me. A bit loose, but the slope isn't too bad..." Er, yes, it was. My foot slipped under me just a bit. Just enough to give me a jolt. Just enough to make me jerk my hand up reflexively. The hand that was holding a cup of coffee in it. I tried to save it almost instantly, but it was already too late. Lukewarm coffee sloshed over the sides of the cup, hitting me in the chest, soaking my T-shirt.
Well, shit.
I really shouldn't have teased her earlier. Ms Swan was never going to believe that this was an accident.
.
~~ooOoo~~
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Bella POV
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"Stay with me, Bella. Be mine." His husky voice embraces me; his nimble fingers caress my skin. Stay with me...with me...
What was that noise? It was interrupting my dream.
... Soft caresses against my hips, my sides, whispered words of love and adoration...
Noooo!
It was my alarm. Flailing a hand out randomly, I groped the side table for my phone, keeping my eyes determinedly shut.
It's got to be one of these buttons.
Damn it, keypad lock.
Yes, got it!
I pulled the quilt tighter round me and buried my head in the pillow, hanging onto the dream for as long as possible.
The bed was deliciously warm and comfortable in the way that a bed only is when it was time for you to get out of it. I drifted off again, sinking contentedly back into the world of semi-sleep and my dream man.
'What I've Done' blared from my phone again, mocking me as I jerked out of sleep for the second time. Damn, Linkin Park were so loud in the morning.
Okay, okay, I'm up.
I stretched and yawned and inched back the quilt, swinging my legs tentatively around and off the bed.
Oh! It's cold in here.
I rubbed my eyes and ran my hands through my hair, trying to wake myself up. God, I was tired. I really needed more than three hours sleep at night.
I sighed, wishing I could sink back into that dream. Bad idea. It was not the first night I had dreamt of Edward Masen (by a long shot), but it was the first night I had dreamt of someone I was working with the next day. So not going to help.
I stretched and yawned again.
Getting up at 5:00 a.m. was the worst thing in the world. How did people do this? I had only gone to bed at 2:00.
I'd spent the hours between my meeting with Jason and finally getting to bed preparing T-shirts for Edward to wear in his outdoor action shots. Having fitted one to him, I knew what adjustments needed to be made, so I got on with it. I took three brand new T-shirts completely apart and remade them in the correct size. Then I washed them and tumble dried them together with some random objects that I found in the kitchen so that they looked worn and had some character to them. The last thing we wanted was for them to look brand new and fresh-out-of-the-packet. Edwards's character tomorrow was supposed to look 'rumpled.' By the time I had done all that, it had been 2:00 a.m., and I was knackered.
Stretching my arms and torso as high as I could, I tried to give my tired muscles the hint that it was time to start moving and reached to the end of the bed for my dressing gown.
I hurriedly pulled it on, shoved my feet in my boots since they were all I had brought with me, and hurried out of my room and down the two flights of stairs to turn the heater in the dressing room up as high as it would go. I really missed my fluffy slippers. Should have brought them with me.
Last night, I had pulled the heavy velvet curtains across the window in the wardrobe room to help conserve heat and had set the heater to a low temperature to keep the chill off. So shutting the door behind me now, I hoped that the room would be pretty warm by the time 6:00 a.m. came round. Clomping back up the stairs, I had to admit I felt pretty silly wandering around this grand house in a cerise pink, full length, fluffy, fleece dressing gown and black leather boots.
Better than fluffy slippers.
Everyone else will be in their rooms, everyone else will be in their rooms...
"Morning, Bella. You look rosy this morning I must say!" A cheerful voice called to me. I stopped half way up the flight of stairs.
Oh, God, shoot me now.
"Morning, Alistair. You're up early," I stammered in reply, turning to look back down the stairs at him. How embarrassing. To make matters worse, he was fully dressed, looking impeccably neat and tidy even at this ungodly hour.
"Oh, I've never needed much sleep, love, prefer to be up and busy you know. You, too? Or did something keep you awake all night?" His eyes twinkled mischievously.
"I just came down to turn the heater up," I replied defensively, tugging my dressing gown tighter around me. "This house is freezing." Somehow though, I didn't mind his teasing; he had a rather avuncular manner, which I liked.
"Very true. Well, if there's nothing you want to tell me..." he winked "...I'll let you get dressed. Spitting with rain outside by the way, but the forecast says it will stop soon and the sun will come out later."
Murmuring my thanks for the update, I rushed up the stairs, cursing the weather. An outdoor shoot in the rain would be a horrible start to the week. With visions of Edward slipping and getting grass stains on his jeans, I rushed through my shower and dressing. I was tempted to skip breakfast in order to avoid having to painfully stumble through any conversations with anyone, but decided that some hot food would be a good idea before venturing out into the cold.
I could hear voices as I approached the kitchen, not quite as loud and exuberant as last night, understandably, but definitely a group of people. My steps slowed, and I hesitated in the shadows outside the spill of light from the kitchen doorway.
Looking into the brightly lit room, I saw Edward reaching forward to gather some breakfast from the selection laid out on a large table.
Definitely not going in there now.
He was dressed in a long sleeved cotton shirt opened over a baggy T-shirt and the jeans he had been wearing last night.
He looked damn good. Always did. Had he combed his hair at all? It didn't look like it. Since he was going to have Angela sort it out for him and he was supposed to look rumpled today, there probably wasn't much point. His face had slightly more scruff than yesterday, again perfect for his character. Just perfect, really. I tried not to notice the way his muscles flexed as he reached across the table. Tried.
There were dark smudges under his eyes, I realised. Had he already been through hair and makeup? But no, he wouldn't do that before breakfast. He looked tired. Why did he look so tired? An answer sprang to mind. Did Jessica keep him awake all night? Feeling slightly sick, I decided to get some breakfast later and headed for wardrobe to get ready for Edward's arrival.
I should have offered to have his costume ready for him in his room last night, but obviously it wasn't ready then, and there was no way I was going to get up even earlier this morning, so he would just have to come and collect it himself. I opened the curtains, although it was still pitch dark outside, and thought about how I should handle things today.
I absolutely had to remember that he was Edward Masen – Film Star, not Edward Masen – My Dream Man. He was nothing like I would wish him to be, and we had nothing in common at all. I had to be professional.
~~oo0oo~~
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I felt him before I heard him. Just, I don't know, felt him.
How does he do that?
I took a deep breath and turned around towards him.
Scruffy beard, tired eyes, sex hair - yes, a recipe for a heart attack.
Lucky Jessica.
I shifted my eyes quickly to his right. I did not want to see what a night in his bed would look like in the morning. So gorgeous.
Remember, don't let him get to you.
I managed a small smile at him as he approached and probably a good morning, too. I wasn't too sure. It was getting harder and harder to remember why I couldn't let him get to me.
You've got work to do. Get on with it.
I pointed out the rails of clothing to Edward once again and said in a rather strained voice, "Your outfit is hanging behind there. Unless you'd rather change upstairs, of course?"
He didn't answer. Damn, I really didn't want to see his eyes close up. I might just melt right now. Hurriedly, I offered to take his costumes to his room from now on, and I was stupidly relieved when he replied, "No, here's fine."
I didn't want him near me, yet I didn't want him away from me either. What a mixed up situation. He turned away from me and strode towards the changing area, and I greedily watched his retreating back. So perfect. I watched as he disappeared from my sight, listening to the gentle rustling sounds as he moved around.
It was then I discovered I had an excellent imagination. I guess a bit like a blind person developing their other senses? Not being able to see him, I listened to all the soft sounds, interpreted them, and created myself a mental picture.
Oh, yes.
I heard a small, barely audible grunt of surprise? Followed by the soft brushing sounds of fabric being slid over fabric. I took a step nearer and saw his hands appear briefly over the top rail of the makeshift wall. His shirt and T-shirt were off now. I licked my lips. Does that mean he's bare chested now? I heard the sound of the hanger knocking against the wooden panelling of the wall, the sounds of movements – brushing, rubbing, breathing. The clothing hanging between us swayed slightly as he knocked it. With his elbow maybe?
The unmistakeable sound of Edward stepping out of his shoes followed. I mentally pictured him, bending down and placing them under the chair, then straightening. What next? What comes next?
Zzzzip.
Bloody hell...
If the slipping free sound of him taking his shoes off was unmistakeable, then the sound of him lowering the fly on his jeans was a universal certainty. I gulped and unconsciously stepped a little closer still, holding my breath so I didn't miss the tiniest sound. This was so much worse than yesterday.
I could hear the sound of heavy denim being pushed down toned, muscular thighs. I imagined I could even hear the scraping of coarse hairs as strong hands swept across them. He stepped out of the jeans with one leg, then a little shake of his second leg to free the jeans from his foot. There was the sound of air being expelled from his lungs as he bent to pick them up, the sound of fabric being folded, and a soft curse as loose change clattered onto the hard wood floor. Then I heard the scrape of metal on wood as he picked it up again. He would be bending over to pick that up. Bending over while only wearing his boxer briefs.
Oh, God!
I could imagine him now, straightening up as he reached for the jeans he was changing into, very similar to his own, a little less worn, a little lower on the waist, but a beautiful fit. I should have known, I checked him out yesterday… er, I mean, I checked yesterday. He shook the jeans out, the sound of heavy fabric snapping in the air from behind the makeshift wall, and then he stepped in, one leg, then the other. Tough denim over course hair as he raised them up his legs, the constant sound of friction against skin. Lots of skin. Naked skin. I wondered if he dressed left leg first or right. Most people have a natural preference. I imagined that he was a right leg first man. Does he need to adjust himself? Did his boxer briefs keep him comfortably in place?
Jesus, what a thought.
Zzzzip.
Those little teeth sliding slowly together and connecting with each other was a spine tingling sound.
I was almost panting by the time he pulled the zip up. It was pure foreplay.
The sound of the wooden chair creaking as he sat to change his socks and to put on the trainers was anticlimactic compared to what had gone before. A soft wind down. Then there was silence. What was he doing? The not knowing was worse.
I was dying to step closer to get a clue, to wrench the hangers apart and fling open the makeshift wall and feast my eyes on him. No, wait. I should have done that a minute ago, not now. A minute ago when he was bending over to pick the change up. Oh, yes. Then.
Jeeze, Bella, unprofessional or what?
It was shocking how I was behaving.
Yes, but it's Edward Masen.
Who probably slept with Jessica last night.
Damn.
Snapping myself out of a fantasy-induced haze, I stepped away as quietly as I could, not wanting him to know how close I was standing, and hurried over to the table where his coat was lying.
Come on, Bella, do your job, can't you?
I'll try.
He re-entered the room, and I couldn't help a swell of pride when I saw how well the T-shirt fitted him. It just hit the top of his low slung jeans and stretched across his chest just enough to show some muscle definition, but not so much he looked like a beach body-builder. The sleeves were sitting right around his bicep, not stretching, but not baggy either, just cherishing the tone of his arm.
So good.
He was automatically rolling the hem of a sleeve up as he walked towards me. I smirked to myself. I'd known he'd do that. Almost every picture of him out there showed him with rolled up sleeves. Men. Creatures of habit. I'd allowed some extra length in the sleeve for it. The start of the swell of his bicep was now just visible below the fabric. Damn, I'm good. I was getting rather fond of that shirt. I'd hate to see anything happen to it.
"Please try and take care of the T-shirts today, Mr Masen. They have to last two days, and I only have three of them." I wanted to clear my throat. I felt all choked up. My baby, being worn by Edward Masen. When all this was over, I was taking that T-shirt home. "The jeans and trainers have doubles, too," I hastily added, not wanting to seem obsessed with the one item, even though I was. "But the tops are always more vulnerable. You know, accidents during shooting, coffee spills, that kind of thing." I rushed on. God, I was making an idiot of myself, but I wanted to remember him looking this good for a long time.
"I'll do my best." His voice was mocking, taunting. He'd better damn well appreciate the effort I put in. I was up until 2:00, damn it. But then, why should he have cared?
My baby was not in safe hands.
"I've not ruined anything for a while now; hope this shoot won't end my run of luck." He continued, not bothering to hide the taunting in his voice. And then he winked at me. Winked. Flustered, I felt myself blush before repressing the weakness. How dare he threaten my baby? How dare he be so cavalier about his costume? What a bastard. We weren't all highly paid actors; some of us worked for a living. Until 2:00.
"Try," I bit out rudely. Oh, God, I was going to get sacked from this job for sure. Why couldn't I keep my mouth shut around him?
He smiled benignly at me, a glint in his eye that I couldn't identify, and strode from the room to go next door to have his hair and makeup sorted. With a sense of déjà vu, I watched as he strode away on his gorgeous long legs through the door. I leaned to the side to see through the doorway better and admired the view while I had the chance. Gorgeous.
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~~oo0oo~~
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"Blimey, I'm cold." Angela's teeth were chattering as she spoke. "I'm going to go and stand in that bit of sun for a while." She gestured to a patch of weak early morning brightness, twenty or so meters to our left. "Are you coming?"
I looked critically at the position of the sunny patch. Would I still be able to see Edward from there? My interest was purely professional, of course; I needed to see when he finished this scene so I could take him his coat.
...Right...
My cold feet were the deciding factor. "Okay, let's go." We moved over to the sun and stood basking in its weak warmth for a few minutes, enjoying the autumn brightness. I liked Angela; she didn't chatter, didn't pry, and was efficient and helpful. Well, they were qualities that I admired anyway. However, she had been very keen to tell me how she had run her fingers through Edwards's hair this morning while styling it into the tousled mane it was currently. The man just had an effect on everyone. I wasn't sure I wanted to hear about how soft the strands of hair were or how lovely it smelt. It was oddly disturbing.
Over to our right, Jason called, "Cut!" and everyone hurried forwards to tweak, reposition, discuss, and evaluate. Angela and I included ourselves in the mini stampede and headed over to where Edward was standing.
He had been running back and forth for over an hour, putting a lot of effort into the bursts of speed required for the shot before jogging back to his first position to do it over again. And again. I was exhausted just watching him.
As we approached, I assessed Edward professionally for a few moments, looking for sweat stains, dirt, marks, anything that could cause continuity problems. So far, he seemed to be doing well; perhaps I was a bit hasty to judge him.
I silently handed him his coat and waited while Angela fussed with his hair for a few moments. One of the riggers called to him, gesturing towards the hot drinks that catering had brought out, and Edward moved over to join him in the queue for sustenance. Angela and I followed, enjoying the quiet pace of things, knowing full well that anything could happen at any time and we would be rushing around like mad things. Collecting our hot drinks, we made our way back over to 'our' patch of sun and stood around, busily waiting and doing nothing. It was surprisingly tiring.
I could see Edward walking through the trees with a short man in a bright red jacket. The two of them flashed in between the trees as they walked, like a red coated version of Morse code between ships.
"Who's that?" I asked Angela, my curiosity overcoming my enjoyment of the silence. "The guy in the red coat with Edward?"
"That's Alec," she replied immediately. I knew she would know. Angela knew everyone. "He's the safety guy. I expect they are looking for rabbit holes and barbed wire!" She was joking; we knew it would have been taken care of already, but I felt a clutching in my stomach at the thought.
Sighing, I turned away from one brightness in the world and turned my face up towards the weak warmth of the other. I couldn't watch Edward all day. It wasn't necessary. How much trouble could he get into, after all?
I was pulled from my peaceful musings by the feel of Edward approaching.
"Er…" The throat clearing was definitely his. He was close. I turned around and found myself inches away from a broad, T-shirt covered, chest. A T-shirt covered chest with a large, wet, coffee coloured stain soaking across the centre of it.
I lifted my eyes to his, aghast at what I was seeing.
My baby.
He seemed to find my shock even more amusing. "Um… I sort of slipped…"
He's desecrated my baby with coffee.
He's messing with me.
He did this on purpose.
How dare he!
I was furious. Unable to form a coherent sentence, I pointed back towards the house and stammered, "House… change… now..." And meekly, he obeyed, but not before taking in my furious look and smirking.
What a bastard! Three and a half days to go. He was never going to survive it. I'd make sure of that.
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I really enjoyed writing this chapter! Let me know what you thought of it.
