Rating/Warning(s)/Note(s): T, Duplicity
Disclaimer: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization.
Prompt: Countdown

Despite my many insistences that I could, in fact, hobble quite well, Edward carried me in his arms out to where a sportscar was waiting. It was sleek and silver, all smooth lines and shining chrome. He finally set me down beside the passenger door, long enough to extract his keys, pressing the button on the fob to open the door. Then he lifted me back up to settle me into the seat.

From over his shoulder I could see the rest of his family making their way to separate vehicles. Emmett seemed far too happy about something, but Carlisle and Rosalie were shooting us looks that made the acid in my stomach roil. The others had a range of expressions on their faces. Esme's mostly mirrored Carlisle's, but only when looking at him. It was replaced with a small smile when she looked at us. My mother was beaming.

The sound of Edward's door closing brought me out of my contemplation of our families. "Seatbelt," he reminded me, as he put on his own, waiting until mine clicked before he even put the key in the ignition.

"This is a nice car, what kind is it?" I asked timidly, looking around at the interior.

"The car? Is that what you're going to ask me about when we have an engagement to fake?" he asked, incredulity lacing every word as he shook his head. Shooting out of the parking space he swung the car around and out into traffic as if the hounds of hell were after him. My hands gripped the seats, my ankle reporting back on every twist and turn the vehicle made. One particularly sharp turn made me gasp and reach down, a tear forming at the corner of my eye. Seeing this, he made another sharp turn, muttering 'sorry' when I winced again. Within a couple minutes I could see we were outside of an all-night Instacare facility. "Let's get that ankle looked at," he muttered, smoothly coming around to gather me from my seat.

I would have protested, but it was really throbbing now. As soon as the light hit it I could see it was turning a lovely shade of dark blue. Thank goodness my wardrobe had navy tights in it. After setting me gently in the chair Edward went to check me in, coming back with a clipboard. "Full name?" he asked, pen poised and ready.

"I can fill it out myself, you know," I informed him, arms crossing over my chest.

"But this way I get vital information on you," he said with a smile. With a roll of my eyes I began answering his questions, name, birthday, previous injuries, and current medications. "Why are you taking birth control if you're a virgin?" was an especially embarrassing question, until we came to "How many concussions have you had?" That one had me reaching for the clipboard. Would have gotten it, too, if my ankle wasn't so bad; it collapsed under me when I jumped up, causing me to scream out in pain. Turns out the heels of death were still on my feet. At least my priority was raised to number one. Edward laughed that the only thing that could have rushed me back quicker was if I had told them my chest and left arm hurt.

We did finally manage to get into an examination room where the doctor proceeded to torture me, all in the name of medicine. "We'll need to x-ray it," was his conclusion, to no one's surprise, including Carlisle's. He'd called, wondering where we had disappeared to, and took Edward's order for both of us in the hope we might make it to dinner. The thought of my mother at dinner alone with the Cullens was enough for the doctor to ask if I needed a sedative.

When the doctor left to set up the x-ray, Edward pulled the chair around to face me. "When did we start dating and why?" he asked.

With a sigh, I answered. "Valentine's Day. We had dinner at work. You noticed I was working late and brought it to me."

He seemed quite surprised. "Why then?"

"When I was leaving I noticed you coming out of the other elevator, so from then on I timed each of our 'dates' for when you worked late as well." He was smiling and nodding, so I continued. "You seemed to be working later more often, which meant we were dating more."

"So you noticed me there, but never talked to me?" he asked, crossing his arms across his chest. His eyes were dancing with something like amusement, as if I was telling a joke only he understood.

"Yes, it just seemed easier." I paused and watched as he shook his head. "What? Why are you laughing?"

He waved me off. "I'll tell you later. For now we need to get our stories straight. What did we usually do on these dates?"

I shifted a little on the table, the paper crinkling noisily underneath me. "Usually we just ate and talked." It was difficult to look at him, but even harder to look away. His gaze was penetrating and demanding as I tried to explain. "We never went out in public, because you were worried about the non-fraternization policy. I didn't want you to get in trouble for sexual harassment or anything."

With a shocked laugh he almost fell backward off the little doctor's stool he was seated on. Thankfully the doctor came in then and was able to catch him from falling. "You may want to try the chair, sir. I'll only have her in x-ray for a few minutes. Then she'll be back." Edward nodded, but jumped up to help me into the wheelchair.

The time spent in x-ray was pretty much like what I was expecting. Some poor technician came out and apologized profusely for the many positions of pain she forced my ankle into, just to get a good picture. From vast experience I had learned how to hold still, no matter how much it hurt. This was a sure way to ensure a quick trip. She wheeled me back to my room, where Edward was pacing, waiting to pounce with more questions.

"Favorite book?" he asked, laughing when I revealed it was anything by Jane Austen, or the Bronte sisters. He continued, asking question after question until my head began to ache, supplying the answer for himself after getting mine from me. When I pointed out there was no way he was going to remember everything, he repeated it back verbatim. "I have an almost photographic memory, and can remember almost every detail of something." He ran his fingers through his hair and looked chagrined. "My parents know this, so if our stories differ, they'll always believe me. I'm almost never wrong. That's why I'm trying to learn everything. The problem is that they're going to ask me a date and know I should know it. Forcing a memory that doesn't exist into my brain is next to impossible. The good news is that I do remember seeing you on most of the days you've listed."

"So I need to tell you what we talked about on each of those dates?" I asked, my mind racing.

"Yes, can you remember? I can just go back and check today, then tell them what you told me."

I smiled. "I can do better than that, I've kept the emails to my mother, telling her what we did." Then my face dropped as I recalled where my phone was. "But my phone is sitting on my kitchen counter, in my apartment."

He stood up quickly, pulling out his phone. "We can look them up on here," he offered. For the next twenty minutes he read the details of our 'dates', chuckling at some, rolling his eyes at others. "My parents know I hate broccoli. They'll never believe I ate a huge helping of beef and broccoli."

"Tell them you did it for me, trying to impress me," I argued back, making him laugh.

"I never worry about impressing people."

"You were me!" I countered, earning a laugh.

Just as he was finished reading, the doctor came in, telling me that I was lucky, it wasn't broken. "It is very badly sprained, so does need to be casted, though. And be sure to get some sensible shoes." Luckily the cast he offered was a walking cast. While not the latest in fashion, it did allow me to take it off and wash my leg. After being handed yet another set of crutches, and Edward noticing I didn't have much better balance with those, I was carried back to the car.

Ten minutes later we were in front of the restaurant. One glance over told me that Edward was dreading what was coming as well. "You don't have to do this," I whispered, wondering why he agreed to in the first place. It would be easier for him to have told Miss Stanley that I had made up the whole thing, and no, he wasn't gay.

"I told you, I'm game. There is one question I haven't asked yet that will come up." He leaned back in his seat, looking relaxed.

"What's that?"

"When was our first kiss? And don't say today!" he teased, looking incredibly handsome as he reached over to brush my hair back. "I noticed it wasn't in any of your emails."

"Good Friday," I told him. "It was supposed to be a holiday, but we all worked to get a book to print that day."

He nodded, his hand cupping my face now. "I remember that day. There was a big countdown clock widget sent to everyone's computer, letting us know how long we had. You were there when the first book came off the press, working overtime to give it one final read-through. As I recall, you caught a couple mistakes." His thumb was now stroking my cheek as he stared into my eyes. Slowly he leaned forward, pulling my face toward him. "When is our second kiss?"

"For real, or fake?"

"For real," he whispered, his breath ghosting over my lips as he hovered there, allowing me to make the final move.

"Now," I whispered back, closing the distance. Passion flared through me again, consuming me as I moaned into his mouth, receiving his own groan of pleasure in return. His hands pulled me from my seat, across the console and into his lap, only to have his door suddenly open.

"Dude, dad is pissed!" Emmett yelled, catching me with a laugh as my momentum carried me out the door. "You'd better get inside before he catches you making out in the car!"

Have a great day!