DISCLAIMER: Madame Meyer owns everything in the Twiverse. I'm just a crazy fic writer who just had to do something for Christmas this year.

Two more to go, y'all! Can't believe we're almost done already. You still with me?

Here's #11!

PROMPT: One of my favorite Christmas songs... "What Do The Lonely Do At Christmas?"... loosely inspired this story.

Word count: 3,821 (AH)

I take another shot of tequila, setting down the empty glass with a sloppy thud. I've lost count of how many I've had at this point, but it hardly matters.

Nothing matters anymore.

I stare at the image on the screen, my bleary gaze fixed on the wide smiles and touchy-feely hands in the photo. They look so happy, so in love, so damn perfect together that it makes me wanna vomit.

Or maybe that's the tequila.

The photo has been up for less than an hour and already has more than 300 Likes. Three hundred twenty-six to be exact. And even that's a bunch of bullshit. I don't even think they know that many people in real life.

How is this real life right now?

Looking down, I notice there are about half as many Comments as Likes. I know better than to delve into any Comment Section because that's where lunatics live, but before I can stop myself, I click on that section.

And so wish I hadn't.

"OMG, soooo cute! Congratulations to the best couple in the world!"

"You guys are absolute perfection! #LoveGoals"

"This is the best news ever! Color me excited!"

"Wooooow... talk about an upgrade, LOL *insider* About time! Love you both! XOXO"

It's that last comment that kills me. What the hell does "talk about an upgrade" mean? Is that about me? Did people always think I wasn't good enough? Is that why we're not together anymore? Was I... was I the reacher in that relationship, aspiring to be with someone laughably out of my league?

It sure feels like the world is laughing at me now.

I'm scrolling through more comments when my phone rings. Without even checking the number, I know who it is, and I cringe.

She's gonna kill me.

"Hello?"

"Honey..." Rose asks gently. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing." I close my laptop and set it on the coffee table. "Just, um... having a little Christmas Eve celebration of one. Well, two. José is here."

"Uh-huh. Where's your laptop?"

I wince, wondering for the umpteenth time in our friendship if there are hidden cameras in here. "On the coffee table."

"Where was it when I called?"

"Ummm... in my lap."

"Were you on Facebook just now?"

"No." I sigh. "Maybe."

"So you saw it. You saw the announcement."

I hang my head. "Yes."

"Oh, honey..." She tsks sympathetically. "I told you to stay off Facebook today."

I shake my head, not because she's wrong but because everything in my life feels so wrong right now. "How could this happen, Rose? How could they be engaged?"

"I don't know."

"I mean, they despise each other! At least, they always acted like that in front of me!"

"I know."

"Jacob fucking Black." I fist my hands together, the truth hitting me square in the chest. "I should have known. Nobody liked him. Nobody trusted him. But I saw something in him, thought he was better than he was. And in the end, he made a fool of me and proved everybody right."

"I know."

"And Jessica? How many times did I talk to her about him? Cry about what he did? She knew, Rose. She knew it all!"

"I know."

"And now they're getting married?!" The words are all but a screech. "How could they do this to me?"

"I'm sorry, honey. I really am."

I make my way back to the kitchen, pouring another trio of shots. "I just... I can't believe this is happening. And today of all days."

Rose sighs. "This is why I didn't want you to go on Facebook."

"But it's my birthday!" I down the first shot, barely feeling the burn. "The whole point of having a Facebook is getting those birthday greetings from your second cousin and fifth grade teacher and college roommate. Not to find out that the bitch and the asshole are engaged!"

I down the second and third shot in quick succession, leaning against the counter with a muted groan.

"Do you want me to come over?" she asks. "Emmett can drop me off, and I can stay as long as you want."

"No," I say, and not just because I'm too ashamed for anyone to see me like this. "It's Christmas Eve. You should be with your boyfriend."

"You shouldn't be alone on your birthday, honey."

"I'm used to it by now." And I am. Christmas Eve babies are always overlooked because everyone's so busy with last-minute shopping, wrapping presents, and cooking for the big day the next day. Nobody has time to go for a drink, hang out, or do anything worth doing, so I usually Netflix and chill by myself and celebrate with friends the weekend after Christmas.

It sucks, but that's why being in a relationship was so great. There was always at least one person who would make the day special for me...

"I'm coming over," Rose says, and her determination touches my heart. "Unlock your door."

"No, Rose. I appreciate the thought, but I... I really would like to be alone. I promise I'll put down the bottle." And I really should, given the slur in my last words. "And not go back on Facebook for the rest of the day."

She hesitates. "Are you sure?"

"Positiii... absoluuu... yes." Shorter words are better right now. "I'm sure."

"All right. But you listen to me: if you need me later on and don't call, I will come over there and kick your ass. I mean, I'll help you once I find out what's wrong, but after you're all better, I will kick your ass from here to next year."

"I love you," I say and mean. I don't know what I would do without her. "I'll call you tomorrow."

"Okay, honey. Love you too."

I end the call and set down the phone, concentrating way too hard to do both. Though I've reached my drinking limit, I still down the last shot—because I won't waste good liquor—and make my way toward the couch. But the sight of my laptop makes my stomach burn, so I drop to the floor instead. The sudden change of altitude isn't good for my head either, and my eyes slide closed to help me be still.

But the picture from Facebook haunts me behind my lids, and I don't even try to stop the tears.

I must cry myself to sleep for the next thing I know, I have a cramp in my back, a sour taste in my mouth, and...

And a blanket covering my body.

My eyes pop open, and I sit up to look around, regretting it instantly. The pain in my head is wild and unforgiving, and I curse aloud.

"Pretty talk," comes the words from behind me. "You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

"Wha..." I turn around carefully, stunned to see who's sitting on my couch. "Bella?"

"Who else?" She smirks at me then nods at the empty bottle on the coffee table. "Looks like José won this round."

"What are you..." I blink slowly, trying to see only one of her. "How did you..."

"Doing here? Get in?" She shakes her head at me. "Come on, Edward. You think I was gonna let you go through this alone?"

"Go through what?"

Her brown eyes soften. "I was on Facebook today too."

"Oh." I shrug it off. "Well, I'm fine."

"Yeah, you look it." She pushes up from the couch and comes to stand above me. "Let's go."

I look up at her, the motion making me dizzy. "Go where?"

"Into the bedroom so I can have my wicked way with you." The words roll so easily off her tongue that I'm almost shocked by it. But her eyes betray nothing but mirth. "We gotta get you cleaned up."

"Why?"

"Because that bitch isn't worth falling apart over and neither is the asshole-formerly-known-as-your-best-friend. Besides..." She shrugs. "You shouldn't spend your birthday face-down on the floor. Unless you're into that sort of thing."

I shake my head, incredulous, amused, embarrassed, and touched all at once.

"So come on." She extends a hand. "Let's get you upright."

I let Bella help me to my feet, stumbling into her as I try to stand. She holds me by my shoulders, her face mere inches from mine, and she smiles softly. "I've got you."

We make our way to the kitchen where she dumps me onto a stool at the island. She walks over to my fridge and throws open the door, peering inside. "Rather slim pickins, Cullen."

I rest my forehead in my palm. "I haven't had time to shop."

"Because otherwise there'd be a culinary cornucopia in here." She drops to a squat to inspect the lower shelves. "Looks like we're getting back to basics."

She pulls out eggs, butter, shredded cheddar, and a bunch of spinach I cannot account for. She opens the oven to pull out my skillet, finds the mixing bowl under the sink, and I marvel at how well she knows this place.

And wonder how she knew to come here.

"Did Rose call you?" I ask.

"No, and she didn't have to." Bella cracks an egg, checking the bowl for shell bits. "I would have been here even if Jess and Jacob hadn't chosen today to announce their engagement."

The mention of them worsens my headache. "Why?"

"Didn't I answer that already?" She sets the pan on the stove and clicks on the burner. "You're drunker than I thought."

"You know what I mean. It's Christmas Eve, and I know your parents have that huge pajama party for you, Angela, and Bree. And your dad already doesn't like me."

"He doesn't know you," Bella corrects gently. "But no, he wasn't too thrilled that time you brought me home from the Soph Hop with a broken arm..."

"Which you sustained while trying to kick Lauren Mallory in the face..."

"Because she called you a 'four-eyed freak' then threw your glasses on the floor." Bella's face pinches in anger. "And if I hadn't worn those stupid heels that night, I would have broken her nose instead of my arm."

I chuckle at the memory. "Your dad was so pissed at me."

"But I've explained to him several times that you weren't even my date—James was." She whips the eggs briskly, her eyes on me. "But he was hooking up with Vicki Laurent in the bathroom, so he couldn't bring me home."

"And I didn't ask you to defend me," I say not unkindly.

"He knows that too."

Bella sets the eggs aside and adds butter to the pan, the gentle sizzle filling the silence between us. "Why did you?" I ask after a moment.

"Why did I what?"

"Defend me." I note her current position at my stove. "Like you're doing right now."

"I'm not defending you: I'm making breakfast. Well, dinner."

"Bella."

"Edward..." Bella's back is to me, so I can't see her face. She reaches for the spinach and dumps it into the pan. "You should drink some water."

"What?"

"Don't want you getting dehydrated before you can try these eggs." She moves the spinach around with a spatula. "I promise you: they're the best you've never had."

"Fine."

I slide off the stool, mildly annoyed with her evasiveness. Bella and I have always had a strange relationship. We're friends with the same people—her best friend Alice is my best friend Rose's sister. My brother Jasper is Alice's boyfriend, and Jasper's best friend is Emmett, Rosalie's boyfriend. We're all only a few years apart, attended the same school, and generally spent most of our teen years together.

But while the lines between everyone else have always been clearly defined, Bella and I have always had trouble finding our groove. We are two odd ends for a pair of couples, and that often gets weird. Whenever the six of us are together, people naturally assume Bella and I are together. Bella seldom corrects them, playing it up by sitting on my lap or nuzzling my neck. And I allow it, feeding her dessert or whispering jokes in her ear. But when the moment passes or the night is through, nothing more ever comes of it.

(Not that I want it to or anything.)

That didn't really change when I started dating Jessica. Well, except we all didn't go out as much. By then, Rose and Emmett had just moved in together, Alice and Jasper were on opposite coasts trying to make it work, and Bella was still Bella—working at her parents' cleaning company, living in the apartment above their garage, and staying generally to herself.

Yet whenever something bad happened in my life, Bella surpassed even Rose in her determination to make everything better. She almost moved in here when I had strep throat two years ago, running back and forth to the pharmacy to keep my prescription filled. She made me shower and eat and held my hand when my Dad had heart surgery last May. And she egged Jacob's house and car when he stole my job at the firm this summer.

I'd thought Rose was kidding about that until I saw the pictures.

And now that my ex-girlfriend of five weeks is engaged to my former best friend, Bella's back with more eggs, trying to make me feel better about trying to drink myself stupid.

And the selfless beauty of that nearly makes me cry.

I pull out a bottle of water of the fridge and unscrew the cap, taking a swig as I return to my side of the counter. Bella hums as she works at the stove, and I inhale through my nose to appreciate the aroma.

But the scent must hit the wrong part of my senses because I instantly feel sick.

"Whoa." I set down the water bottle, my stomach twisting on itself. "Oh, no..."

Bella turns around. "What's wrong?"

I want to answer her, but my digestive track has other ideas. My eyes widen as I realize what's happening, and I fly to the bathroom, leaning over the toilet just in time. I have no desire to describe what happens next, but suffice it to say that when I am finished, I can only slide to the floor, laying my head on the bathroom mat with a groan.

"If you didn't want eggs," she says above me. "You could have just said so."

I can't even bear to look at her, let alone respond, and thankfully she doesn't seem to expect me to. I hear the brief running of water before she joins me on the floor. She squeezes beneath the sink to lay behind me, and I soon feel her hand running up and down my back.

"Come here," she whispers, and I'm too ashamed to obey. But in typical Bella fashion, she brings me closer without my help, resting my head on her lap.

"Bella..."

The cool comfort of a damp cloth silences my protests, and my eyes flutter shut in relief. She gently runs the rag back and forth across my forehead, humming some more. The exhaustion of the day—the photo, the sickness, and the embarrassment of it all—begins to catch up to me, and I feel myself drifting off.

"Bella..."

"Shhh." The stroke of the cloth gets gentler and slower. "Just rest."

Despite myself, I snuggle closer, feeling far too comfortable on this cold hard floor. I start to relax, reveling in her touch, and remember something.

"You never answered my question," I mumble, the words taking way too long to come out. "About why you're here..."

"Edward..." Bella continues her gentle attention to my forehead. "Go to sleep."

"But..."

"Sleep."

"Mmm... 'kay."

I fall silent, too tired to persist in my questioning, and give myself over to the call of unconsciousness. The rag disappears, and I prepare to be placed on the floor as Bella will need to get up.

Instead, she pulls me closer, running her hand through my hair as she continues to hum. The sensation soothes me from the inside out, and my breathing slows and evens out, the release of sleep mere moments away.

And it is then that I feel the tender pressure of Bella's lips against my temple, her soft moan of satisfaction as she kisses me there.

"You're not ready for that answer, baby," she murmurs. "But that's okay. Because until you are, I will be right here defending you, protecting you, and loving you as best as I can. So for now..." She plants a kiss on my head. "Sleep, Edward. Sleep and know I'll be here when you wake up."

I almost stop breathing as her words seep through my sleepiness, shock and awe nearly waking me up. Bella clearly believes I cannot hear her, so I have every right to feign sleep.

But as I drift off, I cannot pretend Bella Swan hasn't just rocked me to my core.

My sleep is deep yet restless. All night long, I see her face in myriad ways, hear her voice in every wind. My mind replays scenes from our lives through an entirely different lens, and by the time I open my eyes on Christmas morning, everything looks new. My head may be pounding, my body quite sore, but I have never felt better.

Or seen things clearer.

"Good morning," Bella whispers, not wanting to startle me. "Though that hangover you're nursing might make you feel differently."

I turn my head to look up at her, and she chuckles lightly at my expression. As I stare at her in silence, her laughter simmers then stops altogether. "What's wrong? Do you want me to move?"

"No." I clear my throat of its grogginess. "No, I definitely don't want that."

She opens her mouth, a snarky look in her eyes. But as she looks at me looking at her, she falls silent, seemingly shy. "Edward?"

"You love me."

She blinks. "What?"

"I heard you... before I went to sleep." I sit up slowly, holding her stunned gaze unblinking. "You love me."

"I'm..." Bella looks away and scrambles to her feet. "Edward, you..."

"It's okay. Because I love you too."

She gapes down at me. "What?"

"I love you too." I stand up, smiling at her confusion. "Sorry I didn't know before now."

"Edward, stop." She holds up her hands, shaking her head. "You don't love me."

"I don't?"

"No."

"How do you know?"

"Because you..." Her mouth moves without sound, and she huffs. "Because you can't."

"I can't?"

"No!" She throws up her hands. "You don't love me. You're grateful I'm here and... and upset about Jessica and Jake and..."

"Is that why you think you love me?" I ask gently. "Because I'm no longer with Jessica and don't have a job and you're grateful for the excuse to take care of me?"

"What? How could you say something like that?"

"I'm just saying." I step around her to the sink, using last night's washcloth to wipe my face. "If I can't love you all of a sudden, then you shouldn't be able to love me either."

"That makes no sense!"

"It makes perfect sense."

"Edward!"

I look back at her in the mirror. "Yes?"

She opens her mouth to argue further, but when she sees the smirk on my face, she smacks my shoulder with a snort. "You are so annoying."

"That is true." I turn to face her. "But you love me."

She looks into my eyes, her whole heart on display. "I do, Edward. So, so much."

"Good."

"But I mean it." She steps back. "I don't want you saying this to me just because I said it to you when I thought you were asleep."

"Well, how do I know you didn't just say it to me because you thought I was asleep?"

"I didn't say..." She purses her lips. "Is this what being with you is going to be like?"

"As long as you're with me." I take her hands in mine. "Does it matter?"

She smiles slowly, her whole face alight. "Nope. Not at all." She stands on tiptoe, tilting her head up toward my mouth, and I lean down to meet her.

But I open my eyes when I realize she's pulled back. "What?"

"Ummm... I'm happy you love me." She reaches around me and hands me my toothbrush. "But I don't want our first kiss tainted by post-puke morning breath."

"You don't?" I bring my arms around her, trapping her against me as I bend to her face. "Are you suuuuuuuure?"

"Oh my god, Edward! Stoooop!"

Bella wriggles and twists to get away from me, and when I finally release her, she runs out of the bathroom, closing the door with a giddy laugh. I laugh along with her before brushing my teeth, swishing around some mouthwash for good measure. When I return to the living room, Bella is walking toward the couch with a new bottle of water and some aspirin. After I take the pills, I set down the bottle and pat the spot next to me on the sofa. She rolls her eyes and blushes, curling up beside me.

"Hi."

"Hi," she replies almost shyly.

I flash a wide smile. "I brushed my teeth."

"Good."

I take a moment to just look at her, wondering how I didn't see what was between us before. And as I bask in her loveliness, I realize something else I hadn't seen before, and I reach for my laptop.

"There's something I need to do," I say, noting her curious look as I pull up Facebook. I find the photo of Jessica and Jacob and click on 'Comment.'

"Thank you for making this announcement on my birthday," I write. "It is the best gift you could have given me!"

"Hmm..." Bella snuggles closer, reading over my shoulder. "I know you're sincere, and you know you're sincere, but everyone else will read it like..."

"Like I'm being sarcastic. Yeah, you're right." I delete the message and set the laptop back on the table. "Sometimes it's best to appreciate a gift in silence."

"Or in the arms of the one you love."

I look over at her, my heart soaring. "Yeah."

Bella leans in just as I do, and we share a light kiss, brimming with promise. It's all so new I hardly know how to behave around her, but I know I want to protect this, respect this, and savor every moment we're able to share.

When we break apart, Bella loops her arm in mine, laying her head on my shoulder. "This is the best Christmas morning ever."

I sigh in contentment. "Yes, it is."

"Edward?"

"Yes, love?"

"Can I egg Jessica's house?"

I bark a laugh and kiss her again. "You wouldn't be the girl I love if you didn't."

This story kinda got away from me and became something different than I envisioned, but I hope you still enjoyed it.

Last one posts tomorrow... see you then! XO