Rating/Warning(s)/Note(s): T, Duplicity
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Prompt: Magic
Plot Generator – Idea Completion: The crowd cheered on…


Cheering erupted around us at our kiss, the drunken blue-hairs living vicariously and enjoying every minute of it. This made Edward and me giggle. He pulled away a bit to look at me, a motion that was met with far more booing than the situation warranted. Ignoring them his eyes swept down over my short jacket, bustier and tight jeans. "You will be the death of me, I swear," he whispered, pulling me even closer. The crowd cheered on.

"Why don't you take me home?" I asked, getting catcalls from the ladies. Lowering my voice so only he could hear I whispered, "I told Alice and Rosalie to not get me drunk, but no one told their moms."

"Oh, the stories I could tell you about their moms," he chuckled before standing up straight. Raising one hand in a wave he addressed the room full of women. "Ladies, thanks so much for getting my fiancée drunk and for all your lovely gifts." Someone who had to have been in her nineties started waving around a black lace number and suggesting we try it out tonight. Around his blush Edward took it from her, mumbling, "Maybe on our honeymoon." He then shoved it in a pocket. How odd that something that was supposed to cover my body fit in his jean pocket.

I spied Alice and Rosalie greeting their respective husbands, who were also laughing at my inebriated state. It was obvious they were laughing at me because they were pointing in my direction. The girls pointed them to the piles of presents, giving instructions to load them in Edward's car. Then Edward loaded me into his car, where I promptly became as responsive as the inanimate objects in the back seat.

The feeling of being lifted, followed by a grunt, woke me from my sleep. My arms wrapped instantly around his neck, with my head falling to his shoulder shortly thereafter. "Mmm, this is nice. Are you taking me to bed?" I whispered into his ear, smiling when he shivered.

"I'm putting you into bed," he said, walking into the elevator that suddenly showed up. "Then I'm going to make you drink a big glass of water along with two aspirin tablets." He gave another grunt as the elevator lifted. Odd, I hadn't felt him push the button.

"Who's going to undress me?" I asked, still breathing into his ear. His adam's apple bobbed in the most fascinating way as he swallowed.

"You'll have to take care of that yourself, I'm afraid." We were now in his apartment, walking down the hall to my bedroom. Did I pass out and miss him unlocking the door? He set me gently down on my bed, cradling my head until it hit my pillow.

My jeans were now incredibly tight, so I reached down and unbuttoned them, trying to lift my hips and shimmy them off. A groaning noise met my ears right as a pair of strong fingers started helping me pull them down and off. Then I was sat up, my jacket and bustier removed, followed by more groaning, before a soft t-shirt was pushed over my head.

A light was beaming sharply in my eyes, waking me from my sleep. Edward's hand was on my bare stomach. The other was under my pillow, holding my hand. He was curled around behind me, snoring loudly into my hair. Then again, the sheets were really loud when I tried to move my legs away from the Vulcan heat source behind me.

Moving at all seemed to be a really bad idea, for not only were the sheets incredibly noisy but the entire room began to spin as the blood pounded in my head. My stomach was also in full revolt, but any and all attempts to sit up where hindered by a hot, heavy arm that was holding me close to the furnace. Still, I knew that if I didn't make it into the bathroom, and now, then I would be revisiting everything I ate and drank the night before.

Trying to throw off the restraining arm proved difficult, it tightened as I moaned. Tightening was bad, very, very bad. Instantly it went into full retreat, but at least the gagging sounds helped to remove Sir Snores A Lot from behind me. Thankfully he thought quickly in the early morning and rushed for the trash can, bringing it to the bed before I lost all control. Cleaning a trash can was decidedly easier than the carpet.

"Oh, Bella," he shouted. Or whispered, it seemed like shouting, and I hushed him between retching. He held the can with one hand and my hair with the other, and I marveled that he would do such a thing, especially since what he had been holding not ten seconds earlier was much more pleasant. "Is this why you were so adamant about not drinking?" he asked, getting a moaning nod in return. This time I could tell he was whispering, but it still seemed abnormally loud.

My stomach finally decided there was nothing left in it, and Edward took that opportunity to empty the trash. It actually had a liner in it, making his job immensely easier. I wanted to help, since it was my fault I was in this state, but all I managed was a groan as I lay back down on the bed. A few minutes later a cool, wet washcloth was put on my forehead and another was placed around my neck, covering ear to ear. "Can you drink something?" he asked. I moaned again, but he pulled me up anyway. Probably because I was nodding.

Cold water was put to my lips, and I sipped it greedily, until Mr. Stomach started churning again. Edward was smart, a new liner was in the can and it was back beside me in an instant. But, when nothing emerged he tried to get some aspirin into me. "Why don't you rinse out your mouth and spit it into the can?" he asked. Deciding that was an excellent idea, I did just that. "Do you need anything else?" he asked, chuckling when one of my hands flailed in the direction the light was coming from.

Blissful darkness soon appeared, and I fell back to sleep. When my eyes opened again the nausea was gone, but the cool, wet washcloth was still around my throat. Edward was reading in bed next to me and noticed my movement. "Feeling better?" he barely whispered. This time I could tell it was a whisper.

"Yes," I croaked out. "What's with the wet washcloth?"

"It's magic, isn't it? It really cuts the nausea." He could tell from my expression that I was confused. "It's an old wives tale that actually works. My mom used to pack me in ice from ear to ear, but I didn't think you needed that much."

My head was still hurting, but the bass drum band had left. Still, he correctly interpreted what my hand rubbing my forehead meant and offered more aspirin. With a kiss on the forehead he told me to rest some more.

My eyes opened for the third time that day to see the sun at an odd angle in my room and no Edward to be found. My head was down to a dull ache now, my stomach ready to ingest rather than vomit, and the room had stopped spinning, so I dared to try to get up from the bed. The first thing I noticed was that the trash can was clean again and there was a gass of water beside the bed, condensation clinging to the sides. That was quickly dispatched, prompting a trip to the bathroom.

Immediately following I went on an Edward hunt. His voice could be heard, so I followed it, trying to home in on the sound. Turns out he was in his office on the phone, and it sounded like he was fussing at someone about getting me drunk and explaining that I wouldn't be in to work the next day. Since my legs were now out of energy I collapsed on his lap as he finished up his conversation, snuggling into the hollow of his shoulder.

When he finally hung up he smiled down at me. "Feeling better?" I gave a small nod and sigh. "So drinking makes you really sick?" I nodded again, snuggling deeper. "Um, can you do me a favor?" he asked, moving me slightly on his lap. Oh, I could feel why.

"Should I sit in my own chair?"

"Um, actually, I think it would help most if you put on pants."


Such a good fiancee, isn't he?

The trick of putting ice around your throat, covering from ear to ear, really does work by the way. My mother used it on me, and I've used it on all my kids. It's amazing.

Happy Valentine's Day!