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not beta'd

Word Prompts: Club, scrub, grub

I wake up to the sound of falling rain. I've never seen so much rain in my life. It never stops. In a way, I like it; it makes me feel cozy, safe, like nothing can get to me. I've felt that way about rain since childhood, but the places I've lived generally didn't see much rain.

Maybe the constant wet and gray will get depressing after awhile, but for now it pleasantly reinforces the feeling that Edward and I are inside our own little bubble. Beside me, Edward sleeps soundly, his chest rising and falling. Weak, watery morning light illuminates the room enough that I can see the bruises that litter his pale skin. Wanting to touch them, and that hair, I clasp my hands instead, not wanting to disturb him. We've both been through things, and he deserves all the rest in the world. I snuggle down deeper beneath the covers, letting the soft hush of rainfall pull me back under.

When I wake up again, it's on the tail of a bad dream. I forgot to take my meds last night, but because Edward and I were in and out of sleep anyway, touching and kissing, my insomnia wasn't as noticeable. Now, though, the all too-familiar-stains of dread and fear creep in, and I force myself to breathe deeply and evenly, not wanting to freak Edward out if he wakes. It's difficult to calm myself down after these episodes, but I manage to do it, breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth while I concentrate on unclenching my fists.

Slowly, the details of my nightmare dissipate with wakefulness. It was about Alec again, I know, but that's as much as I'll allow myself to remember. Instead of dwelling, I slip out of bed, shivering when my feet hit the cold, wood floor. I tiptoe to my bag and grab a large, fleece hoodie, something that will envelope me in warmth and softness.

Downstairs, the modest contents of the fridge are limited in terms of breakfast. I grab eggs, milk, cheese, bread and butter, and set about making omelets. While the pan is heating, I measure out the coffee and set it to brew, already anticipating the smell and taste.

Halfway through, I hear the soft, tell-tale thump of feet hitting the floor upstairs, and then footsteps. I have never lived in a two-story house, so this is new. It makes me smile, knowing that I share this space with Edward. I know we're playing house, but I can't stop myself from building my hopes around it. I yearn so much for normalcy, for all the things that other girls might find typical or even banal.

I've had the cash, the clothes, the drugs, clubs, vacations, luxury. I've had the best of the best, and the price I had to pay was far too high. In my deepest heart, I realize I still crave the college experience, somehow, somewhere. I want to stay at Edward's side as the one he depends on even as I depend on him.

And, I won't lie...I've thought about having his babies, to melt and swoon inside knowing that we made something so amazing.

"Must be a good morning," he says, appearing at my side. He leans his hands on the counter, amused. "By the smile on your face, I mean."

Blushing, I shrug and fiddle with the omelette, lifting it a tiny bit to see if it's ready for flipping.

Scooting closer, he stands so that our whole bodies touch, side by side. "Good morning, Bella."

"Good morning, Edward."

He grins. I grin. It's sappy and great and I'm blushing so hard - forget breakfast - my face my could catch fire. "I thought I'd whip up some grub... I remembered you liked my eggs," I say tentatively, thinking of our little breakfasts back on the hill.

"I did. I do." He stands behind me now, hands on my hips and then sliding beneath. "Back to dressing inappropriately for the cold..."

"A sweater and socks are not inappropriate," I snort. "Besides, there's no one here but you and me. I like feeling...relaxed."

"I like it, too." He presses against me, showing me how much he likes it, and sweeps my hair to the side. This is one of his things. It's becoming one of mine, too. My breath stutters, and I focus on the omelette, turning it before it overcooks. "It sucked before, having to pretend."

"Pretend you weren't interested?"

"Pretend I didn't love you."

My breath hitches, and I swallow. "For me, as well."

"You told me you fantasized," he says.

I nod, plating and covering the omelette to keep it warm. "All the time."

"Me too."

I glance briefly at him. "You're chatty today. I'm starting to realize there are aspects of your personality I truly know nothing about."

"Well, I'm not always chatty. Just like you're not always shy." He touches the red of my cheeks. "But I know things about you, and I feel it's only fair you know them about me, too."

"I'd like that." I pour the second bowl of beaten eggs into the frying pan. This one will be mine. My mouth is already watering at the thought of how it'll taste, the melted cheese crispy in places.

"I like strong coffee..."

"I already know that."

"Mixed with hot chocolate."

I grin. "Why didn't you tell me? I would've bought it before."

"I had it in my own kitchen." His fingers find my bellybutton. I flinch instinctively away, which only pushes my butt against his groin. He grips me, holding me still. "I had it all the time."

"Before coming up to drink my coffee," I say.

"Right." He kisses my ear.

"Let me guess," I breathe. "You like sex in the morning."

His thumbs tickle and play at the waistband of my underwear, dipping just below to the skin beneath. "How'd you know?"

"Educated guess."

Reaching back up under my hoodie, Edward runs his hand over my nipples before cupping one of my breasts. He squeezes gently before returning to just the nipple, fingertips circling until I'm antsy and horny and ready to stop playing around. He slides the other hand all the way into my underwear, at which point I deem my omelette finished. I push it off of the burner at the same time he pulls me down the counter, away from the stove. He peels my panties off, leaving the hoodie on, and sucks on my neck as he rubs me into readiness. Tipping me forward so that I'm bent over the counter, he pushes into me so suddenly the breath feels like it's pushed from my body.

He wasn't lying when he said he liked morning sex, because the pace he assumes is hard and fast, a little rougher than usual. He must have been thinking about it, and then come downstairs ready. His hands run all over me, like he can't decide what he wants to touch the most: my hips, my ass, the small of my back. I love it like this. It's so deep, and it makes me feel taken in the very best way.

But then Edward slows down. He curves over and around me, reaching down to touch me as he moves. I put my hand over his when I start to come, my knees buckling, and he speeds up, finishing soon after. We stand there for a minute, until I open my eyes, lifting up so I can look back at him. His face is flushed and he has this goofy grin going on, so cute.

"Thanks for the wake-up call," I tease, wiggling so he'll pull out. "If I'd known it was going to be like this I would've asked you to take me away sooner."

Laughing lowly, he gives me back my underwear. "Sorry. Maybe you should wear pants from now on."

"Maybe."

We kiss. I touch my lips to the tip of his broken nose as softly as I can, kissing it, too. "I have to clean up. Make toast?"

"Okay."

We're back in bed, mainly because it's still the most snuggly place in the house. The couch downstairs is fine, but it needs an afghan or something. Not that I'd expect for those sort of creature comforts to be here. We've been given the essentials, and like Edward explained, a stipend to figure out the rest. He tells me he has money, too. Something he's "working on with someone" so that when the trial is finally over and the details of our new lives are ironed out, he'll still have his savings.

But for now, this bedroom seems to be our safe place.

He's teaching me to play chess, but I keep getting frustrated.

"Try me at pool," I huff, resisting the urge to sweep my hands over the board, knocking the infuriating little figures down. "I'd kick your ass."

A ghost of a smile graces his mouth. "Maybe," he murmurs.

"I would."

"Checkmate."

Grimacing, I flop back onto the pillows. "I need a break."

"Okay."

"Tell me more."

"About what?"

I roll onto my side, facing him. "About you. Is it true about your parents?"

"Yeah. I'd never lie about that."

Nodding, I think about my mother, Renee. She was a happy drunk, but such a drunk nonetheless. She loved me, though. I know that now, more than ever. Being an adult is hard. I so easily could've allowed myself to slip into the cycle of addiction the way she did. In fact, I nearly did. What would life be like now had Masen Hale never become my bodyguard?

"And your brothers?" I ask, after a moment.

"Yeah."

"Are you all really from Chicago?"

He nods.

"What are their names?"

He smiles fondly, counting off on his fingers. "Carlisle, Garrett, Michael."

"Do they look like you?" I ask, smiling at the expression on his face. They're close, I can tell.

"Carlisle looks like my dad did. Blond hair, blue eyes. The rest of us look like my mom though."

"She must've been beautiful."

"She was." He stares at the window, eyes faraway. I run my palm over the top of his head, and he smiles, shutting his eyes.

"I like how your hair feels. And...I love the color of this," I say sheepishly, touching his scruff. Guess it's all coming out now; all those months of stifled admiration.

"I need to shave it," he chuckles.

"It's pretty."

"Just what every guy want to hear. You have a pretty beard, Edward!"

"Shut up!" I snort. "It is! It's like...red and blond and just...really nice."

He shakes his head, smirking.

"How'd you get this?" I ask, touching the scar that resembles a dimple.

"Fell out of a tree when I was nine."

I grimace. "Ouch."

"Fell off my bike," he says, pulling up his sleeve and showing me another scar near his elbow.

"Well, I sprained my ankle when I was thirteen. It sucked, being on crutches."

"You got me there – I've never had to use crutches."

"Consider yourself lucky, then."

"I do," he says quietly, gazing at me, and I get the impression he means something more.

One thing about Edward: we've almost always had companionable silences, even when he was Masen and I was Alec's girl. That's one thing that hasn't changed, and I'm glad. He's easy to look at, easy to be with.

"I hated when you did coke," he whispers, his eyes filling with something I don't quite know. Sadness, maybe?

I nod, biting the inside of my cheek, remembering those days. "I...I always wondered why you resisted. Why you didn't just do it with us." I glance up at him. "I wanted to do it with you so badly."

"Why?"

"I don't know. It was something I could share with you, I guess. I wanted to feel that way with you, even before I really understood I was feeing something for you." Sighing, I scrub a hand over my face. "You made me want to stop though. I knew you hated it. You'd get this...look."

Our eyes lock. It's surreal remembering these things. It's as if they happened to someone else...we've been through a lot.

"I hated when you let other girls get close," I say. "That used to really...bother me."

He nods slowly, moving the chess board aside to he can lie down beside me. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." I exhale long and slow, letting it go. "I'm just glad we have this now."

jeez. i don't know what it is w/these two. if i was sequestered away in a little house in a little rainy town i would totally do more than have sex all the time. pfft.