A/N: Beta'd by americnxidiot (ff net) and Feisty Y. Beden (FFn and Ravelry).
Vampires vs Pirates and Other Clashing Things
I make a noise somewhere between a snarl and a grunt, which actually kind of hurts my throat, as I crack an eye open to glare at my nightstand. Something is making a noise, a very annoying noise, and it needs to shut the fuck up. Stupid cell phone.
"What?" I bark into the phone.
"We're really going to have to work on your greeting skills," Edward says.
"I was sleeping."
"I thought you might be, but I had to call. It's sunny out."
"Did you call to tell me that?" I interrupt.
"Yes." When did he become evil?
"I'm going to hurt you." And then I hang up. I've still got twenty minutes until my alarm goes off, but before I can get back to sleep my phone rings again.
"Fuck off."
He laughs. "You do realize I'm allergic to the sun, right?"
"Huh?" Why won't he just let me sleep? Why is he being mean to me?
"I can't drive you to school today, Bella. I'm staying home."
"Oh, okay."
"So, you need to find someone else to drive you."
"Right."
"Do you still want me to fuck off?"
"Well if you're going to be all smug about it then yes, yes I do."
"You forgot again. If you were photosensitive I wouldn't forget."
"I didn't forget anything. I'm just really tired. You woke me up."
"Whatever makes you feel better."
"You know what? I'm going to start calling you SWCIFD again. I hope you're happy, Edward."
"You just called me Edward."
"Shit. Shut up. I'm going back to sleep." I hang up again, and then it starts to ring again. My hand sweeps sideways, and my phone, along with a bunch of other crap, clatters to the floor, but it still keeps ringing. Evil sort-of-boyfriend person. I bury my head under my pillow and form a vague plan that involves me inflicting some manner of pain on Edward, before I fall asleep again.
00000
I get halfway through breakfast before my brain finally starts working. I need an alternative ride to school. Angie doesn't drive, and there's no way I'm asking one of the guys while they're still waiting for an answer, so short of randomly calling someone I barely know there's just Jess. I probably should've clarified exactly what "time" means. Does she want time away from me or just time away from the topic of Edward?
She never actually said she didn't want to see me, and she did say we were friends, and I really don't want to have to call Mike for a ride. I'm sure it'll be fine.
Now, where the fuck is my phone?
00000
"So..." I say, letting it trail off in the awkward atmosphere of Jess's car. "Thanks for the ride. I really appreciate it."
"Yeah, no problem." She nods, then I nod, and then it gets quiet again.
"Looks like it'll be a nice day," Jess says.
"Sunny."
"Too bad it's not warm."
"Well you know, January..."
"Yeah."
"Yep." Smooth. "So, at the risk of totally violating the spirit of the agreement, how's that whole time thing going?"
Jess lets out a deep breath and taps her fingers against the steering wheel. "I had a dream last night that vampires were trying to eat my soul."
"Not good then."
"I don't know. I think it ended on a pretty positive note. They were all trying to get at me, and I kept hitting them with my shoe, but it wasn't really working. Then all these pirates showed up and started stabbing them."
"Oh. Well, that sounds... good?"
"I guess. Of course I did watch Pirates of the Caribbean last night, so that may have had something to do with it."
"That seems like a definite possibility. Did the pirates win?"
"Yeah."
"Really? I mean I get that maybe it's a metaphor or whatever, but pirates aren't even supernatural."
"Apparently the ones in the Caribbean are."
"Are we talking about skeletons-in-the-moonlight kind of pirates?" I ask. "Because that's a whole different situation."
"I don't know. There wasn't a moon. We were in a shoe store."
"What? Vampires versus pirates showdown in a shoe store?"
"I cannot be held responsible for my subconscious, and I happen to like shoe stores."
"I guess you could've staked them with high heels, but I still think vampires would kick pirates' asses, even if they were Caribbean pirates."
"You're just saying that because you want to do one," she says with a laugh.
I make a noise somewhere between a snort and a gasp before I reply, "I do not want to do one. I just happen to think that vampires are drastically more awesome."
"You totally do."
"Whatever, those pirates are totally skeevy."
"But they're all bone." Her expression starts out playful, but quickly morphs into horror.
I burst out laughing. "Eww."
"I can't believe I said that."
"Me neither. I never realized you were such a pervert."
She gives me the evil eye. "So, are you going to tell them?"
"Tell who what?"
"Tell those guys who asked you out that you won't be going to the dance with any of them."
"Oh, them."
"Yeah."
"I guess I'll have to at some point, but I don't have a plan."
"I kind of want to watch. Does that make me a horrible person?"
"Maybe. I guess it depends on how much you enjoy it."
"I don't know that I'll enjoy it, but I think it would be nice to know that I'm not the only one that feels screwed over. Plus I think I took it better than they will, so it might make me feel like I'm a better friend than they are."
"Do you really think it's going to be bad?" I ask.
"I think it'll be like me, but with male pride, direct rejection, and a not-so-friendly competition - times three."
"That sounds bad."
I am so not ready to deal with this.
00000
"I bet they wouldn't have even noticed, but she had to go yelling about it to Mom, and now I have to pay to have it replaced," Mike says, stabbing French fries into a puddle of ketchup. "She should have to pay for some of it, at least half."
"But you broke it," Angie says.
"But she started it. She's evil. She's like a little high-pitched demon."
"I'm so glad I'm an only child," I add.
"Me too," Jess replies. "My family is annoying enough as it is, and I only have my parents to deal with."
"I like my brothers," Angie says quietly.
"Maybe your siblings aren't evil. I'm living with Rosemary's baby."
"I thought your mom's name is Louise," Eric says. Mike just stares at him.
"It's a movie, dude," Tyler says with a laugh.
"Whatever."
Once the table lapses into silence I start to get the urge to turn around. It's silly because I know Edward's not coming to school today, so the only thing I would see would be exactly what I saw when I came into the cafeteria: an empty table. But I haven't talked to him since this morning, and there hasn't been much sun for about an hour, so maybe he's going to show up. Maybe he's already here. But he would call me if he was going to come in, wouldn't he? No, why would he? It's not like he gives me hourly updates on his life. That would be really annoying.
He could be here. He might be sitting behind me just waiting for me to turn around and finally figure out that he's here. Nope, still empty. What is wrong with me?
"Has anyone heard if the Valentine's dance has a theme this year?" Did Jess seriously just say the V-word?
"I would assume it's the same as always. You know... red, pink, hearts," Angie answers uneasily.
"Yeah, I was just wondering if they were doing something different. I remember someone talking about having people dress up as famous couples this year. I think it's a pretty cool idea, but you've really got to lock down your date early, for the extra planning. Of course that's kind of the same with regular dances, because if you wait too long you risk ending up dateless."
Motherfucking traitor.
After a few moments of tense silence Jess blurts out, "Bella's going out with Edward." What the fuck?
"That was loud," I hiss.
"Sorry," she mutters quietly.
"What do you mean?" Mike asks.
I sigh and glare at Jess before saying, "Edward asked me out yesterday, and I said yes. We're going out on Saturday."
"Did you lose a bet?"Eric asks.
"No. I happen to like him."
"Like a friend?"
"No... well, yes, but... I like him, alright?"
"But why?" Tyler asks.
"He's never cornered me in the hallway and embarrassed me in front of everyone, for one."
"I was just trying to ask you to the dance. They're the ones that made it a big spectacle," Mike says defensively.
"You're the one that violated the plan. If you hadn't done that there wouldn't have been any witnesses," Tyler says.
"That doesn't sound creepy at all," Jess mutters.
"Why would you bring this up?" I ask her.
"I can't believe you're going on a date with Edward Cullen," Mike says.
"I know. I'm sorry. I just really wanted to," Jess says to me.
"Does this mean you're going to the Valentine's dance with him?" Eric asks.
"You're really all over the place with this, huh?" I ask her.
"It's two months away; they may break up before that," Tyler says.
"I'm feeling very conflicted. It's like on one hand you're Bella, my friend, and I want it to be alright. I want to want you to be happy."
"It's not like they're dating - they haven't even gone out yet," Mike says.
"But on the other hand you're Bella, the new girl who somehow managed to get the attention of the guy I've been unsuccessfully trying to get to look me in the eye for years. I want to say some very nasty things to you and maybe rip out a noticeably large chunk of your hair." Yikes.
"Jess has been trying to get into that guy's pants practically since he got here, and he hasn't even noticed. I bet he's gay."
"Fuck off, Mike. He's not gay," Jess shrieks. "Anyway, these two sides are battling it out Ultimate Fighter style, and there's blood all over the place. It's not pretty."
"No, I would imagine not," I reply. She did say she needed time, and I did say I would give it to her. In the meantime, I may need to invest in some heavy-duty duct tape. Probably a bit late for that though.
00000
I wander back downstairs and into the living room, setting my homework stuff down on the coffee table. I'm just about to turn around when someone grabs me from behind. I scream and flail. My elbow connects with their stomach, and we fall backwards onto the ground with an "oomph" sound.
"Ow! Christ, Bella."
"Edward?" I crane my neck around, trying to get a look at him while pretty much sitting in his lap.
"Hey."
"What the fuck?" I shout.
"Aren't you happy to see me?" he asks with a smirk.
"You scared the shit out of me."
"What, so you only like me when I don't scare you? That seems very shallow."
"You didn't knock," I state, attempting to maintain some calm.
"The door was open."
"You mean unlocked?"
"Yes."
"If you'd knocked, you wouldn't have known that."
"Are you saying you're not happy to see me?"
"You're still in trouble for waking me up this morning, and you're only making it worse."
"I called you for a reason. I explained this."
"Yes, this time, but if I do something like thank you or be reasonable about it, then you're going to think it's okay another time. It's a slippery slope. They had an assembly about it in school."
"I think that was probably about weed."
"It might have been. I wasn't really listening."
He laughs and squeezes the arm he has around my waist. "You're adorable."
"…and terrifying."
"Of course, you're adorably terrifying."
"But more terrifying than adorable, right?"
"Definitely. I fear for my life almost constantly."
"Well, alright then." I tap him on the arm, but he doesn't move to let me up.
"Esme was bored today, so she made tarts. I have no idea what's in them, but I've eaten about six," he says.
"Congratulations?"
"I brought you some. Actually I stole them when Esme was out of the kitchen, but Emmett will probably be blamed, so it's fine."
"You're such a good brother."
"Emmett once accidentally knocked over a candle and lit a curtain on fire. I got blamed for it. This is like karma, but more delicious."
"Mmhmm… so where are they?"
"On the little table in the hallway."
"You're going to need to let me up now," I say, tapping his arm a little harder this time.
"You'd rather eat mystery tarts than sit here with me?"
"Yes."
"Ouch."
I peck him on the cheek before jumping up and scurrying into the hallway.
"Some of those are for me!" Edward shouts after me.
"You've already had six!" I yell back, grabbing the container off the table.
"There are more than six there! You have to share." I can hear him get up and start moving around in the other room, getting closer.
"No, I don't!" And then I make a break for the stairs.
"Bella!" And then he starts running after me. He's actually pretty fast. This may not have been a good idea. I just need to get off the stairs before he grabs me, or this could end very badly, fall-down-the-stairs-and-crack-both-our-heads-open badly.
It may just be paranoia, but I feel like he's right behind me as I reach the top of the stairs. Clutching the container to my chest, I sprint to my bedroom with only a minor collision with the doorframe on the way. I make it into the room before he grabs me from behind again, and I scream again, but this time I can't elbow him because I'm not letting go of these tarts.
Luckily we fall on my bed instead of the floor, but the edge of the container digs into my stomach when we land.
"Hand them over," he demands.
"No!"
I hold it underneath me, pressed against my stomach while my body curves around it. Edward's fingers keep jabbing and pressing and tickling my sides, trying to get me to roll over and let go.
I bet this is what turtles' shells feel like when predators are trying to get at their insides. It's possible I just yelled something like that at Edward, but I'm fairly certain he didn't understand me, because my voice is kind of muffled by my sheets and I'm laughing so hard I'm shaking.
There's a lot of shrieking and yelling going on, and I'm kind of worried the neighbours are going to think somebody's being murdered.
Suddenly he stops moving, and I tighten my hold on the container. I think he might be trying to trick me.
"You know we've created a deadlock, right?" he says between heavy breaths.
"I do not know that," I reply stubbornly.
"As long as you keep holding that box so that I can't get them, you can't get them. So the only way you're going to get any is if you share."
"I can wait you out. You'll have to go to the bathroom or something at some point, and my dad's going to be home after six."
"So you're going to stay like that for two more hours?"
"Yes," I say, peeking out of the corner of my eye to look at him.
"Did I say terrifying earlier? Because I meant crazy."
"I need them more than you do." I give him a look that I hope conveys something like don't argue with me, but he makes a snorting noise so I don't think it was very effective. Clearly glaring him into submission is not an option here. "I have made a decision."
"Which is?"
"I will share with you if you promise never to miss school again."
"Did you miss me?"
"Do you promise or not?"
"I can't come to school when it's sunny. There's no choice involved."
"I could get you a parasol," I offer. He seems to be genuinely offended. "What? It wouldn't have to be pretty and lacy."
"I don't care if it's got pictures of shotguns and beer cans; I'm not walking around with anything called a parasol."
"What about a golf umbrella? Those are big, you can get them in solid colours like black or navy blue, and they're sports related. They're very manly."
"No."
"You won't even think about it?"
"Why are we talking about this?"
"Because then you wouldn't have to miss school."
"Right, but I have to say I really don't mind not having to go to school every once and a while. Why do you have a problem with it?" He drops onto his side next to me, his chest pressing against the side of my arm.
"Everybody knows," I say.
"Knows?"
"Knows that we're going on a date."
"Did you make an announcement or something?"
"No, but Jess did, in the middle of the cafeteria."
"Oh."
"Yeah, I don't think she's entirely okay with this yet. Actually I don't think any of them are, except Angie. It was awkward."
"I'm sorry," he says quietly, running his fingers through my hair.
"Not your fault." I roll to the side, leaving the container between us. I think I have dents in my stomach from the ridges on the lid.
"It kind of is, actually. I used to act out a lot. I was a jackass, and most people still think I am."
"You're not a jackass."
"But I was. Accidentally burning down a building really puts a person's actions into perspective. Also it made Esme cry a lot, and Carlisle had this whole supportive but really disappointed thing going, and then doing stupid things just didn't seem as fun anymore." He peels off the top of the container and hands me one of the somewhat broken tarts. "I think they have raisins in them."
I take it and sniff at the filling before nibbling on the edge. "I'm glad you're not a jackass anymore."
"Me too."
I'm on my second tart when Edward asks, "Did you say something about turtles earlier?"
"No," I deny immediately.
He looks at me suspiciously like he knows I'm lying.
"Now who's crazy?" I mutter. He's totally not buying it.
"Is it an Arizona thing?" he asks.
"What?"
"The thing you said about turtles."
"I didn't say anything about turtles."
"Yes, you did. It was something like turtles sell…"
"That doesn't even make sense," I mutter, breaking my tart into bite-size pieces. I'm going to have crumbs all over my bed.
"I'm going to find out what you said."
"What are you going to do, google 'Arizona turtle sells'? I'm sure that'll be productive."
"I'll get it out of you eventually."
"You're not as coercive as you think."
"I got you to share with me," he says in this really annoying gloaty voice.
"I just felt sorry for you because you're such a jackass. They're pity tarts."
"You turned my apology tarts into pity tarts?"
"Why are you blaming me? You're the one that's pitiable… piteous?"
"Pitiful? I think you used coercive the wrong way too."
"I did not."
"You're not as coercive as you think," he repeats.
"It's a sentence."
"I don't think you're supposed to use coercive that way."
"It's totally a legitimate use of the word. You have no word authority! You're not a dictionary!" I think these might be crack tarts.
"And you're not a turtle that sells felt-like procedures that are tying up their insides." I can only stare. Did Edward just have a stroke? "I swear to God that's what you said."
"No, I didn't. That doesn't even make sense."
"Really, that's your defence? You just accused me of not being a dictionary. How does that make sense?"
"Well you were acting an awful lot like one. All high and mighty, telling me how to use words like you make all the rules."
"I think at this point it's pretty safe to say we're both crazy."
"I blame the tarts. I think they have drugs in them."
"No, they don't. Even if this was some alternate universe where Esme baked drugs into tarts I doubt she would leave them lying around in the kitchen where some wayward teenager could steal them all."
Maybe the problem is Edward. I think he causes me to act crazier than usual, and it seems to get worse the more attracted to him I become. He's like kryptonite for my brain.
"Why are you smiling at me like that?" Edward asks suspiciously.
"I'm not smiling at you like anything."
"Yes, you are."
"No."
"No?"
"No. I'm not even smiling."
"I have eyes, you know. I can see."
"I did know, but thanks for the reminder," I mutter, sticking my tongue out at him. "Speaking of eyes, I need to take your picture." I get up and walk over to my dresser to get my camera.
"What does that have to do with eyes?" he asks as he rolls onto his back.
"Pictures are for seeing… with your eyes."
"That's a really awkward segue."
"It made perfect sense. Are you going to help me with this picture or not?"
"I'm ready when you are," he says, throwing his hands up in the air.
"Edward, I can't send my mom a picture of you lying on my bed. We have to go downstairs."
"Oh, so now you want to make me take a picture and get up. That's asking for a lot, especially after pity tarts and calling me a dictionary. Words hurt, Bella." He makes this little pouty face that I roll my eyes at.
"I said you're not a dictionary," I reply, crossing my arms across my chest. He just looks at me. "Thank you for the completely pity-free tarts." No response. "You're pretty." He smirks, but doesn't move. "If we don't get this picture to my mom we may not be able to go out on Saturday."
He grimaces and sighs. "Fine."
"Good."
"But come here first," he says, holding out a hand.
"Why?"
"Just come here."
I comply, placing my camera on the bedside table before taking his hand. He tugs me down onto the bed next to him. This seems counterproductive to my goal of getting him downstairs.
"What's going on?" I ask, wiggling around to get more comfortable against his side.
"We are alone in the house, on your bed, if I don't at least try to kiss you I may have to start questioning my own sexuality."
"I see."
"Which could be awkward. I'd rather not be gay, because I really like you." He squeezes my hand lightly, and I fight not to giggle like an idiot.
"You're probably straight then."
"I hope so. I really don't like men that much."
I have the urge to say something back. Amidst the joking about being gay – and yet he won't even discuss golf umbrellas because of vague parasol connotations – he did say something sweet. It would only be polite to return the sentiment, polite and true. On the other hand making an honest announcement about my feelings would be awkward right now.
"I hope you're not gay, too." That's basically the same thing.
"Well then, we should definitely make out right now," he says, running his fingers up my arm.
I laugh. "Your idea of logic seems to be very similar to mine."
"Mine's better; it involves kissing."
"It certainly involves talking about kissing."
His eyes narrow at me, and one eyebrow goes up.
"I guess we'll have to fix that."
He takes hold of my head, with his hands under my ears this time, and pulls my mouth to his. Because he's on his back and I'm on my side both of our necks are straining to reach, but then he shifts onto his side, and it's so much better. This feels different, more intense. We're actually alone instead of somewhere potentially public, and we're lying down. Plus Edward is on my fucking bed. This is an entirely new kind of relationship for me, and it's terrifying and exciting and just… I don't even know. I think I would have to make up a word to properly express exactly what it is, but Edward is kissing me, and his hand is on my hips, and his chest is pressed against mine, and I think my brain is dying so there's no way I can come up with something right now. It'd probably just be some kind of inarticulate squealing noise anyway.
I wrap my hand around his arm, pulling him closer, as his grip tightens on my hip. I should've just kissed him the first day we met. It would've saved us a lot of time. I know I didn't really like him at first, but at the moment I find it almost impossible to understand why. He's great, and attractive, and I like his lips.
I start laughing softly against his mouth, because I am seriously out of my mind right now.
"What?" Edward asks.
"I think I have some kind of brain infection that's making me crazy."
"You're not going to start talking about water poisoning again, are you?"
"No, that's not what I mean."
"Do you mean like syphilis?"
"I don't have syphilis," I reply defensively.
"I said like syphilis," he corrects.
"Oh. Well, maybe." This might be normal. This might be a thing that the brains of teenage girls do when they like a boy. On the other hand this might be a sign that my brain is rotting from the inside out. I should definitely look into this. Maybe I could ask Alice.
"Do you want to stay for dinner?" I ask.
"Will your dad be here?"
"Yes."
"Then no," he says, kissing me quickly.
"He wants you to come for dinner before Saturday, and I think we should get it over with. If it goes really badly then the rest of the week will be like a buffer zone between that badness and our date." He hesitates. "I'll have dinner ready for when he gets home, something quick, and then you can go and it'll be over."
"Does it have to start at all?"
"I really want my dad to be okay with us going out, and I think this might help."
"So why do we need a buffer zone? We could do it Wednesday, or Thursday, or Friday. Friday is a good day to get things done."
"I think it'll be fine, but there is some potential for disaster, and I think it would be a good idea to factor in a few days for people to calm down, just in case."
"You're really not making me less nervous."
"My mom is on our side. He can't prevent me from going without having to deal with her, and he wants to avoid that. I will still want to go, even if this dinner doesn't go well. It's just dinner. You don't even have to make small talk; just be polite and eat. That's all I'm asking."
"Okay," he says reluctantly. He's quiet for a moment before he asks, "You don't really think he'd kill me, do you?"
"No," I answer quickly. "But if he did, I'd be really angry with him. He'd have some serious grovelling to do." He scowls at me. "I'm sure they have lots of Playboy Bunnies in heaven."
"Not the really fun ones." He makes this adorable exaggerated pouty face, and I move forward to kiss his downturned lips. He responds automatically, and his hand moves from my hip to my neck. We both try to get closer, and our hips press together. Things are pressing. Things that are… things. His breath hitches, and we both freeze, staring at each other wide eyed. Out of our element would be an understatement.
"Maybe we should go downstairs," I suggest.
"Yeah."
I disentangle myself as my entire face gets hot. Grabbing the camera I head into the hallway.
"Definitely not gay," he calls after me.
"Good to know," I respond shakily. I can't stop smiling as I start down the stairs.
00000
"You look like a future serial killer," I mutter, looking down at the camera display.
Edward sighs. "Are we done?"
"No, just… try to look like a normal person. Smile or something."
"I am smiling."
"You're smiling weird."
"I don't like taking pictures," he says, clearly frustrated.
"You're hopeless," I announce, flopping down onto the couch.
"I can't just stand there and look normal - it's an unnatural situation." He sits down next to me with his arm across the back of the couch, his fingers brushing against my shoulder.
"We need a picture."
"I can ask Esme if she has any good ones. I wouldn't get your hopes up though."
"So you knew you photographed like a future serial killer and you didn't tell me? That would've been good to know."
"Well I didn't know you'd be so picky."
"I don't think trying to avoid giving my mother the impression that you're aspiring to a career of murder is being 'picky.'"
"I could put on a hardhat if you think that would throw her off my true career aspirations."
"Do you have one with you?"
"It's my go-to for trying to hide my serial killer-ness," he replies with a smirk. I get the picture before he even realizes I'm aiming the camera. "What did you do?"
"I took your picture. It's a good picture. You don't look like a serial killer or a construction worker." Success. I'm not sure sending Mom a picture of Edward being all smirky is the best idea, but I don't think I'm going to get a better one.
"You're a sneaky one."
"It's for a good cause, and you're welcome."
"Maybe you should send it to Esme too. I don't think she believes a good picture of me is possible." I smile, but stay silent. He looks kind of… flirty in it. I doubt it's the kind of picture he wants his family getting their hands on. I'm definitely going to keep a copy though.
"So, I've done the picture, and dinner is imminent. Are there any other tasks I need to complete before Saturday?" Edward asks.
"I think that's it. Given how fond of you my father is, I think you got off easy."
"You don't have anything you want to throw at me? No tasks or challenges? Nothing you want me to retrieve from the top of a mountain or maybe the cave of a bear?"
"How about you figure out what we're doing for this date."
"I was thinking dinner and a movie. I know that's pretty basic, but we can do something else if you want…"
"That sounds good."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
We're smiling at each other when I hear Dad's car pull into the driveway. We both tense up.
"It'll be fine," I say, but I've got butterflies flapping around in my stomach.
"Bella?" Dad calls from the front hall.
"In here."
I can hear him moving around in the other room for a few moments before he comes into the living room. He doesn't seem particularly happy to see Edward.
"Hey, Dad."
"Hello." He pauses slightly before saying, "Edward."
"Chief."
"Edward is staying for dinner. Is that alright?"
"Sure, yeah."
"Great, well dinner's pretty much ready, so you can go change out of your uniform… put on some normal clothes, and I'll finish up."
"You want to eat now?" Dad asks.
"In a few minutes."
"It's not even seven."
"I'm pretty hungry, and Edward has a thing he has to do at home, so…"
"We could do this another time if you're busy, Edward. Some night when you've got more time." I'm pretty sure he's trying not to smile at the panicked look on Edward's face.
"Oh no. I've, um… I've got time for dinner. I just can't really stick around afterward. I mean I'd like to, but I have a… thing I have to do."
Dad seems amused as he looks at the two of us before he heads upstairs.
"It was a lot easier to talk to your dad when I didn't care what he thought of me. Now he has this power over me. All of a sudden he seems really scary."
"It's going to be fine. Can you get the stuff out of the oven for me, please?" I ask.
"Sure."
Edward goes into the kitchen, and I go upstairs to wait in the hall outside Dad's bedroom. He comes out a few moments later dressed mostly normally.
"Bells?"
"I know you don't really like him, but can you just… be nice tonight?"
"Of course I'm going to be nice."
"You're still wearing your gun holster."
"But the gun is in its box."
"Dad."
He sighs and looks exasperated with me, but he does leave the holster in his room.
00000
"So, you got it?"
"Yes, I did." Mom sounds smug.
"Okay."
"It's worse than I thought."
"What? Why?"
"He is very cute. I mean... if I was twenty years younger I might actually, very briefly, consider hopping on a plane and attempting to steal him."
I'm not entirely sure how I'm supposed to respond to my mother telling me she's attracted to my boyfriend-type person, so I blurt out the first thing that comes into my head. "If you were twenty years younger I wouldn't be born." Because clearly that's very relevant to the conversation.
"Obviously in this hypothetical we're not related, or at least I'm not your mother. Maybe we're cousins... or sisters, we could be sisters, but that has nothing to do with anything. My point is I'd do him, hypothetically."
"That's very possibly the most disturbing thing you've ever said to me."
"I find that hard to believe."
"Well anyway, Edward came for his pre-date dinner tonight."
"And did he leave intact?"
"Yeah. It was… polite, maybe on the extreme side of polite."
"So, silent?"
"There was some awkward small talk that broke up the silence nicely."
"Oh, sweetie. I'm sorry it didn't go better."
"Well, I'm not certain that Dad's opinion got any better, but I'm pretty sure it didn't get worse, so that's something. I know he's not happy about it, but he seems to be accepting it, grudgingly. It probably would've gone better if they'd had something to talk about."
"Edward isn't into sports?"
"I don't think so."
"Well give your father time. I'm sure he'll come around."
"I hope so."
"He will; you'll see."
"I'd rather just keep them apart. It would make things so much simpler."
She sighs at me. "What are you going to wear on this date?"
"I haven't really thought about it. It's only Tuesday."
"But you should plan ahead. First impressions are very important, Bella."
"Mom, we've already met."
"Of course you have, but I'm talking about his first impression of Date Bella."
"What are you talking about?"
"Well this isn't just hanging out. This is a date. It's completely different, honey. You need to be prepared to bring out Date Bella."
"Oh." Well now I'm really nervous. I don't even know who Date Bella is.
A/N: Addresses for this story's Twilighted and Ravelry threads are on my profile page.