Moondreamer and amerymarie are fantastic betas and so, so good to me. daisy, imyilysfmih.
Chapter Nine.
Crazy Little Thing Called Love
with emphasis on the 'crazy'.
You know, maybe teenagers have it right.
Sometimes, in the business of being grown up, in the utter preoccupation with sex and all its implications and complications, adults tend to forget how much fun just making out is. The beauty lies in the lack of destination—it's not about getting somewhere and going there faster and faster until your movements are so frantic you can barely enjoy the pleasure they bring you. No, making out is all about slow, sumptuous savoring, about tongues caressing and lips nibbling. It's about kissing for so long that you forget what your lips felt like before someone else's were on them. It's about alighting a burn so slowly you barely realize you're on fire.
Bella and Edward are rediscovering that lost art right now with a great deal of enthusiasm and, just as adolescents would, a little awkward fumbling as they adjust from their vertically complicated position to a more horizontally compliant one. Perhaps it's especially bungling because they don't stop kissing as they maneuver, but somehow, they find themselves lying down on their sides, face to face. Rather literally.
The kiss is lazy then frenzied, before easing into a delicious calm that gets them all worked up again, the rhythmic movements of his mouth spurred on by the breathy little noises she makes. It's one kiss and a hundred all at once; if something can be forceful in its softness, then it is this kiss. When Bella pulls away just a fraction, the space between them, filled with their heavy breaths and light, happy smiles, is as sweet, as filled with longing and wanting and having as their kisses were.
Outside of their jobs, there are two things Bella and Edward are good at: sex and snark. In their shared past, these have combined deliciously but, perhaps in an effort to avoid the obstacles that tripped them before, this time they're taking a different route. Tonight, it seems that the course of action will be discourse, as opposed to intercourse.
"We probably should stop," Edward murmurs, pulling away as much as he can bear, which isn't far at all. "We should talk or something."
"Yeah, we should stop," Bella says breathlessly, as she grasps his chin between her thumb and forefinger, pulling his face to hers.
"Don't kiss me."
She doesn't. So he kisses her instead.
"Stop kissing me," she orders, mid- kiss.
"Don't kiss me back," he retorts, rather unintelligibly as his lips aren't particularly focused on enunciating.
"Stop kissing me," Bella repeats.
"Don't kiss me back," Edward repeats right back to her. All the while, they're still completely wrapped up in each other, his arm tight around her waist, his other hand gently brushing away strands of her hair with his thumb. Her leg is slung over his thigh, her toes flexing and tickling his calf and even as they weakly order one another 'stop' and 'don't', their words mingle and muddle, emerging as 'don't stop'.
And they don't, until poor Edward, tired and still recovering, can't stifle the yawn that breaks their mouths apart. Bella giggles and he narrows his eyes playfully. "Don't laugh."
"Don't yawn." He closes his eyes and plants a kiss where her ear meets her cheek. "Don't be tired," she says, turning her face so his lips are on hers once more. And because Edward speaks Spanish, Troll and Bella, he knows what she's really saying is 'don't stop kissing me'.
He tries valiantly not to—after all, it's rather in his interest to keep doing so. But after he yawns once, twice, thrice, it is Bella who pulls away. "You are tired," she tells him. She giggles again—wondering when the hell she became a giggler—and pokes him in the shoulder. He flops onto his back, sighing loudly.
"I am," he says, staring up at the ceiling as he swallows, his Adam's Apple bobbing deliciously. Before she can even comprehend her actions, Bella is kissing it, feeling it tremble then vibrate as Edward lets out a low, lovely groan. "Stay here for a little while longer?"
She pulls away, surprised but understanding why he doesn't ask her to spend the night in his bed. They've tried that before, back on the first case they ever worked on together, when they could still feign platonic intentions. It had started with his suggestion that they sleep in his bed together. And even though they'd both agreed they'd 'just sleep', within two and a half snuggles, it had turned into 'just sex', as these things—namely things between two people who are undeniably attracted to each other and inane enough to try refuting it—are wont to.
She nods and he tightens his arm, bringing her flush against the side of his body, using the hand he has slid into her hair to guide her face back to the front of his neck. "I meant right here," he jokes, laughing. She pushes away, playfully hitting him.
"I should go," Bella says, reluctantly rising off the bed. Edward nods but holds on to her hand.
"Good night kiss?" he requests.
She laughs and says, "And what have we been doing for the last fifteen minutes?" But she obliges him with a soft kiss, then watches from the doorway as he settles into the bed. He's asleep within a few moments, and though, with the way the blood is rushing through her, she doesn't expect to be, she is, too.
~O~
When they meet in the morning, ready for the day ahead of them, the sun is actually shining for once, and the freedom they felt under the dark cloak of night, the freedom that allowed them to act on their feelings, has abated. Those feelings, however, still remain and, even if neither Edward nor Bella feels brave enough to express them out loud, the rather beatific expressions on their faces say enough.
"Hi."
"Good morning."
"Good morning."
"Hi."
"Yeah..."
"So..."
Thankfully, before they wind up spending the entire day like that, Edward suggests "Breakfast?" like it's a brand new concept, and Bella says "Sounds great!" like it isn't what they've done every single morning since they arrived. Settling in at the diner, they are finally able to wipe the dopey grins off their faces.
"How are you after last night?" Bella asks, timidly testing out the first words of actual substance spoken between them.
Edward looks at her sharply and she notices a faint blush spread over the very top of his cheeks. He takes a deep breath, his eyes darting between his hands, folded and resting on the table, and Bella. "It was good, right?" He begins rambling before she can respond. "Of course, it was good. You're always good. I mean, you're a good kisser. Not that you're not good at other stuff, too, you know, because you are. Very good. Very, very good. I mean, you have some serious skills. You're pretty much a pro. Like you could make a caree—uhh, that's not what I meant, that—I didn't think that one out, I didn't mean…" Upon raising his eyes to hers, finally, and seeing her expression, he trails off. "You weren't even talking about us kissing, were you?" he asks, shaking his head.
Bella shakes hers in perfect tandem as she fights a smile. His nervousness endears him to her almost as much as his kisses do. "Did you just imply that I could be a hooker?"
He's bright as a tomato and she can't help finding victory in it since she's usually the one painted in red, hot flushes of embarrassment. Edward attempts to bury his face in the thin fabric of his tie, muttering, "What is wrong with me?" But he's grinning as he says it, and really, when he's smiling like that, wide and unguarded, she can't think of a single thing that is wrong with him. "You meant my fever."
"Yes, I did. But the unexpected evaluation of my skills was kind of amusing."
"Shut up."
"You call me a hooker and I'm the one that needs to shut up?" she teases.
Edward groans. "Can we change the subject?"
Taking pity on him, she does. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm feeling fine. Better than ever. Top of the world."
"I told you that shower would help. So your temperature is back to normal? No shivering? No dizzi—" She stops abruptly, seeing the smirk on his face. "You didn't mean the fever."
"No, I didn't." He reaches over and grasps one of her hands, and she can practically feel the exquisite flip of her heart.
Edward wants to finally voice all the thoughts and feelings that have been racing through his head and heart in the past few days. Smiles and gestures, kisses and caresses, those say enough for a while, but then it is time for actual words. That is where he and Bella failed so spectacularly last time, assuming their physical and sexual connection, and obvious—though unstated—affection for each other would carry them through anything. It didn't, and he's not keen on making that same mistake this time around. So he summons his courage, hoping that it is early enough and yet, at the same time, not too early to have this conversation. He knows there's no such thing as a perfect moment but this may be as close to it as he gets.
That is, until James, who is either stupid or feigning obliviousness to the intimate aura surrounding the two, slides in next to Bella.
"Good morning, Bella," he says, simpering. His eyes slide over to Edward. "And good morning to you, Edward, though I don't believe we've actually met officially. But that's no matter, I've been told all about you by our Bella here." He slides an arm around her.
It's hard to say whether Edward is the type to get jealous or not because, even if he were, he's smart enough not to demonstrate it around Bella—she'd never stand for it. So, it's more with disgusted amusement that he repeats, "Our Bella?"
"Oh, right, she isn't our Bella—she corrected me on my misapprehension regarding you two." James is practically preening.
Edward merely looks at him like the grease from his hair has seeped into his brain, but Bella glares at him, pushing him away forcefully. "I'd appreciate you keeping your hands to yourself, thanks."
James laughs and mocks whispers to Edward. "I'll tell you, she's a tough cookie." Jealous or not, Edward doesn't particularly enjoy being told anything about Bella by another man—especially this man. Turning back to Bella, James says, "I can't stay—"
"Wasn't aware you were invited to," Bella informs him icily. He chortles again.
"Oh, Bella, you are funny. There's nothing more appealing than a lady with a strong personality. But the harder they fight, the harder they fall. That's what they say."
"What who says? The Kidnappers Commission of America?" Edward snaps.
"Now, now, Edward. No reason for jealousy. I believe everyone has their place, and it is next to the person they belong with. I'm just trying to make sure Bella finds that place," he says, getting out of the booth. "I'll see you soon, I'm sure."
Bella pushes aside her breakfast and makes a face as James exits. "I lost my appetite."
"What the hell was he talking about?"
"Oh. With, um, what happened last night, I forgot to tell you. He was being a complete creep yesterday, spouting out all this stuff about how no one should be alone and how he wanted me to find the person I should be with. It was strange."
"Strange as in the type of strange that might go to spreading a love spell around town?"
"Maybe… I'm not sure how he'd do it, though. We won't be able to figure out much more about the spell itself until the lab returns with our results—"
"Bella, there she is!" She looks out the window to where Edward is pointing and sees Leah Clearwater. Tossing a few bills onto the table, she follows Edward, who has already rushed out.
"Excuse me? You're Leah Clearwater, right?" he says, advancing toward the woman in question. The minute she sees him, her eyes widen and she's off like a shot. Edward actually has to run to keep her in his sights. When she disappears behind the corner of a building, he gives up the chase.
Bella catches up a few moments later. "What happened?"
"I called her name and the minute she saw me, she just took off," he says, resting his hands on his thighs as his breathing returns to normal.
"You think she knows why we wanted to talk to her?" Bella asks.
"No way. The only person who knows why we're actually here is Charlie."
"But then why would she run?"
"I don't know, but we need to find out more about her. Let's go back to the room and check the database."
They do so, briefly stopping in at the police station. Charlie has a little information about Leah Clearwater—she's moved here from New York, but he's almost sure it was after the first incidents of couples getting together occurred. However, it was still a few weeks before any of the really crazy occurrences— like Rosalie or Tyler—happened.
"Okay," Bella says, consulting the chart they've drawn up once they're back in her room at Forks Motel. "So my dad says that people first started getting together around here." She points to a demarcation on the timeline. "He says it was noticeable that four or five couples got together within a very short period of time, but without any of the fuss. That's when Leah and her mother moved here. Tanya had already lived in Forks for about a month, Riley for about three weeks. Then, here—" she points a few inches to the right. "—is when the first crazy incident happened. Some guy named Garrett mowed the Forks High School football field to spell out the name of the girl he liked." She pauses. "Kind of impressive. That's a lot of elbow grease."
"What was her name?" Edward asks.
"Kate."
"Oh, well, that's not that tough." He shrugs. "I mean, it's not like her name was really long like Bernadette or Wilhemina or something. Or she could have been one of those two-name girls like Alexandra Tallulah. That would be impressive."
Bella rolls her eyes. Edward may not demonstrate his jealousy, but he's often competitive to the point of annoyance. "Anyway, by the time the crazy occurrences started happening, all four of the new residents were living here. If we assume that the couples getting together was part of the spell as well, then that makes Riley and Tanya suspects but not Leah and her mother. On top of that, we have James, Esme and Carlisle who already were in town."
"I don't think we can rule anyone out, but we don't have motive," Edward says. She nods.
"We don't, and chances are, we're not going to be able to find out more without raising suspicions as to why we're asking so many questions." She sighs. "We really need headquarters to get back to us with the results of the water."
"And we need to talk to Marcus to see whether Carlisle is registered. Why haven't they—" But the beginning of Edward's tirade is cut off by the beeping of his phone. He flips it open and reads the message and then holds it up to Bella. "Speak of the devil… we will be contacted over a secure video conference line tonight for a briefing."
"Does it say with who?" Bella asks.
"Nope."
"All right. I guess we'll find out soon enough," Bella says. She consults the file in her hands. "Riley Chekhov."
"What about him?"
"We haven't even seen him since we've been here. Rather strange considering how small the town is, don't you think?"
"He works at the florist with Tanya, correct? What say we go pay them a visit in about half an hour?"
"Why half an hour?" she asks, even as she gets her answer in the way Edward tugs her over to where he's seated on the bed. He pulls her face down to his, kissing her so thoroughly that she melts onto, rather than sits on his lap.
"We can make that an hour if you want," he amends from somewhere in the vicinity of the sensitive space behind her ear. And she does want to make it an hour, or two, or a day, or five, where she and Edward just hole themselves in this room, on this bed, and entice and excite and explore each other.
It is this thought, and the fact that she's barely noticed that she's straddling him, and that their hips have begun taking on the same frantic rhythm their lips have and that it all feels so damn good that makes her realize this is precisely what they shouldn't be doing. Not right now, at least.
She pulls away but not too far, resting her temple on the side of his head, thinking that the sound of his pants in her ear is far, far too sexy. "Edward," she says, as breathless as he is. "We really shouldn't. Not now, we're working."
"I know." He takes a deep breath, kissing her shoulder. "We need to get back to work." Of course, it's only fair that Edward be given the same amount of affection, so Bella kisses his ear.
Oh, the sacrifices they make for equality.
That's all it takes to set them off again, until this time Edward pulls away and says, "We have to stop or we're never getting any work done."
"Something is wrong when you're the voice of reason," Bella replies.
"No, it's just I know that I shouldn't start things when I can't finish."
"You mean you shouldn't start things that you can't finish."
"No, I meant start things when I can't finish." He smiles wickedly as Bella rolls her eyes. "Now, since it appears you're not really ready to get off me and you're being too professional to get me o—"
"Edward," she warns.
"Alright, alright." He places both his hands on her butt and lifts her up with him as he stands, placing a quick kiss on her nose before turning and tossing her onto the bed like she weighs nothing. She's actually glad it's a giggly shriek that escapes her and not a moan or something equally as wanton that gives away how turned on she is by the action.
"Half an hour," he requests. "Give me half an hour."
She laughs and asks again, "Why half an hour?" The mumbled, equivocating answer Edward gives as he shuffles to his room sounds something like he wants to take a cold shower.
~-O-~
But when they go into town a little while later, there is no sign of Riley or Tanya and the florist shop is closed, its windows dark.
"I guess we'll have to come back tomorrow," Edward says.
"Will they even be here tomorrow?" Bella asks. "It's not like it's a public holiday or a Sunday that the shop would be closed."
"I'll ask the shop next door to see if they know anything," Edward says, nodding to the small bookstore that neighbors the florists.
"You're Bella Swan, right?" a cold voice to the right of her asks a few moments after Edward departs. The owner of the chilly voice is the opposite, with her loud, almost neon yellow, low-cut top that clashes terribly with her fiery red hair.
"Yes, I am," Bella says. By now, she's gotten used to the townsfolk being fascinated with her, the long-lost child of their beloved police chief. She understands that it is not nosiness, but a feeling of kinship, that she is one of their own that propels their actions. But from the venomous expression on this woman's face, she doesn't share that sentiment.
"You are…"
"Victoria Herring… James' wife." Bella resists the urge to make a face. James' wife is just as pleasant as he is, which is to say, not at all. "Yeah, now you get it."
Get what? Bella wonders.
"Look, I don't know what you've heard, but I've seen you hanging around town. I'm on to you. I see what you're doing. You're a pretty little thing, running around with one man while telling others he's not your boyfriend."
"Excuse me?"
Victoria steps closer to her, straightening to her rather impressive full height. "Just remember that everyone belongs with someone else. You don't mess with that."
Suddenly, it clicks—this is the same nonsense James was spouting. "I'm sorry, I'm not quite sure I know what you're talking about." To anyone else, Bella would sound polite, but she knows Victoria is close enough to feel the edge in her words.
"Sure you don't. Just remember, swans may be pretty birds with their white feathers and their long, graceful necks, but that just makes it easier to cut their throats." With that she spins on her heel, her voluminous hair splaying around her, a few strands whipping her in the face with the force of her turn. It's meant to be a dramatic exit after an ominous threat—except that to Bella, it's all rather ridiculous. Even if she understood what had just happened, she wouldn't be scared.
Edward strolls up to Bella as she still stares at the space Victoria was just standing in. "Well, the owner of the bookstore doesn't know where they've gone, so we'll just have to take our chances and come back tomorrow." As he nears her, he sees the look of confusion and disbelief that colors her pretty, soft features. "What's wrong?"
"I think I just got threatened."
"By whom?"
Bella points at Victoria, whose bright red hair can still be seen as she makes her way down the street. "Victoria—James Herring's wife. I think she might actually be creepier than he is."
"Didn't know that was possible."
"Before she threatened me, she spouted off that same crap about each person having someone they belong with."
"How did she threaten you?" he asks, but before Bella can answer, someone clears their throat behind them.
"Excuse me, Bella?"
After the encounter with Victoria, you can't really blame Bella for the "now what?" she mutters under her breath. But when she turns around, she sees delicate, quiet beauty with a matching demeanor. "I don't think we've been introduced but everyone knows who you are. I'm Angela Weber."
"Nice to meet you, Angela. This is my colleague, Edward Masen."
Edward and Angela shake hands as he says, "Congratulations, by the way. Deputy Hale told us you're getting married very soon."
"Next week, in fact," she replies. "Actually, that was what I wanted to talk to you about. Mike—my fiancé—and I are forgoing bachelor and bachelorette parties in favor of a bit of a town celebration. On Saturday night, down on the school's field, we'll be having a little barbeque dinner, a sort of pre-wedding reception. The whole town is invited, but I figured you may not have heard about it, so I wanted to make sure that you two came."
"Sure," Bella says. She looks at Edward and he nods his agreement.
"Is there a dress code?" Edward asks. Bella fights the urge to roll her eyes. Of course, Edward would ask about a dress code.
Angela's eyes politely appraise his formal attire. "No… it's casual. Whatever you see fit. But it is themed."
"Themed?" Bella repeats. Suddenly, she is regretting agreeing to go.
"Yes. Love-themed."
"Umm, what exactly does that mean?" Edward asks.
How philosophical of you, Edward, to ask what love means.
If it's regarding the party, Angela knows the answer. Smiling, she answers, "Whatever you want it to. You'll see when you get there." With that, she bids them goodbye, citing last minute wedding preparations to attend to.
"We'll see when we get there," Edward echoes. "That's not cryptic. Love-themed."
"Rather apropos, even if she doesn't know it."
"Well, that could be fun. Maybe. Probably not." Edward sighs and glances at his watch. "We have our debrief in a little while. What should we do till then?"
~-O-~
"Bella," Edward groans as she slides her tongue down the tendon that stretches from his neck to his collarbone. "You're going to have to stop that."
"Why?" she asks, doing the opposite.
"Because," he says, but doesn't finish his sentence before pulling her lips back to his. This goes on for a few more minutes. His back is against the headboard of his bed and, as much as she may have been trying to keep her cool, this is what Bella has wanted to do since they stopped earlier in the afternoon. "You're driving me crazy."
"You mean you aren't already?"
"Funny. No, I mean, one second all I want to do is…" He struggles to find a politer way to say 'screw your brains out'.
"All you want to do is this?" Bella suggests, gesturing to their bodies pressed together where she kneels in the space between his spread, outstretched legs.
He looks at her, eyebrow raised. "A lot more than this." At that she leans forward to kiss him once more, but he puts his hand on her shoulder and gently pushes back, keeping her at arm's length, literally. "You know, you make it really difficult to think." He scrunches his eyes shut as if attempting to do that, slipping his hand down her arm so that he can twine their fingers. "What I'm trying to say, without sounding like a clingy idiot is… I think we need to talk about this. About us. About where this is going and what it all means."
The look they exchange says what you already know. He wound up sounding like a clingy idiot anyway.
He scrubs his free hand over his face, his expression softening as he stares at their entwined fingers, and he continues. "One moment, I have every intention of holding a mature conversation with you, and then you look at me like…" his eyes flick from their joined hands up to her, as he places his hand on the side of her face, running his thumb gently over her inviting bottom lip, "like that. You look at me like that, and how can anyone expect me to do anything but this?" He pulls her face to his and kisses her deeply, hoping that maybe it can say all the things neither of them are.
Before they can delve too deep into anything, the trilling beep of the computer reminds them that it is time for their scheduled debriefing. As Bella pulls the hem of her shirt from where it has ridden up, Edward lightly combs his fingers through her hair in an attempt to calm its disarray. They both take a few extra seconds to wipe the smiles off their faces.
"Marcus!" Edward cheerily greets the vampire whose long, gaunt face fills the computer screen.
"Hello Edward, Bella. As you've probably figured out, I will be your handler on this case while Aro's out of the office," he informs them. "I've been named Director ad Interim in his absence."
"Has he left his post?" Bella asks, incredulously.
"No, no, but I will take up the administrative duties he can't fulfill while he's out in the field."
"Aro is out in the field? Are all the agents okay?" Bella asks, wary from experience.
Marcus is uncharacteristically deflective. "Yes, yes, nothing like that, Bella. No need to worry. Aro had a… vested interest in one of the cases, so much so, he felt the need to personally attend to it. He felt his presence was required."
Marcus misses nothing, including the way Bella tugs on Edward's shirtsleeve in distracted excitement. "I bet it's that one. The one with the god—with Q—who was yelling at him while we were waiting outside his office."
"Oh, yeah! I completely forgot about that." Edward turns to the screen. "Is that it, Marcus? Is that the case he's gone to take care of?"
The look Marcus fixes on Edward is akin to one a kindergarten teacher might fix on a pupil trying to eat paste—thoroughly unamused. "Edward, I know you're smart enough not to actually expect me to tell you."
"No, I didn't think you would. But I'm going to take your silence as an affirmation." Even with the look his boss is giving him, Edward laughs, knowing that Marcus is actually quite fond of him.
The sight of the vampire's yellow eyes rolling is actually quite frightening. "You two gossip more than a pair of old hags. If you're done, I'd quite like to get to the case at hand?"
"Of course," Bella says, elbowing Edward who is still grinning. "We wanted to ask you about something. There's a vampire here—his name is Carlisle Cullen. Is he registered, and if so, what can you tell us about him?"
Marcus doesn't have to check the database, a benefit of his infallible memory. He tells them that not only is Carlisle Cullen registered, but that he's rather well-respected in the vampire community, seeing as he has chosen to be a doctor and is committed to not drinking human blood. He's been a vampire for about twenty-five years, and was changed somewhere in his twenties and moved to Forks about ten years ago.
"That's right around the time Esme opened the diner," Bella recalls.
"Still doesn't tell us how or why they might be setting this spell."
"Speaking of this spell, we have the results from those water samples you sent…" Marcus segues. "It's very complicated and it looks like there may be several components to it—that's why it took the lab so long. This is some incredibly advanced potion making, so you're looking for someone who is not only knowledgeable but well-practiced in Magic. It is impossible that anyone less than an expert could have concocted something like this. The lab is still deconstructing the intricacies of the potion, so keep that in mind, but what they've found is a base potion. What is most relevant for you two is that the most basic part of the spell is in the water."
"What?" Their incredulity is in unison.
"Yes. The potion has compounded with the hydro—well, I won't waste your time with the science, since you'll read the details in the written lab report we've sent you—but, to sum up the results, anyone who has ingested any amount of the Forks' water supply has had exposure to the spell."
"But…" Edward says. "That means the whole town has been exposed."
Including themselves. Oh, goody.
Their eyes slowly drag away from the screen to one another, and it's rather clear they're recalling the past day of kisses and, beyond that, the past week of civility, wondering whether it's all been because of something beyond themselves.
"That's not all," Marcus says, watching stony-faced as they slowly inch away from each other. The only thing that betrays his amusement is the slight twitch of his left eyebrow.
"What? What else could there be?" Bella snaps.
Marcus takes an unnecessary breath before announcing, "We can't actually be sure of who is under the spell and who isn't."
This is going to be fun.
A lot of you have been making some really good guesses as to what is going on. Will I tell you when you're right? Probably not ;)
Your reviews make me happy and smile and write faster. As a thank you, I'll reply back with a teaser of the next chapter-in honest-to-goodness EPOV. (The chapter itself will be third person POV, as always.) For the past couple chaps, I've been updating every two weeks, so I'm going to try and keep that up.
Are you reading Clockwork yet? I love that story. This story loves that story, even.
Be awesomer, guys. Betcha can't.
