Author's Note: This is pre-Twilight, thus – no Bella.
I
As the music rose to its crescendo, Edward couldn't help himself: he thought for what seemed the thousandth time, "I cannot believe I let him drag me here."
Noticing Edward's quickly souring face, Emmett, who had just stopped by on his way to the bathroom, slung an arm around his little brother's shoulders.
"Hey, you said you'd come. And try and have some fun."
"I tried. Really, I did. But, Emmett, these places—"
"These fun places?"
"Yeah, fun, anyway, I just, why are we here?"
"Because I've got two fake IDs, and because you need to perk up."
"I am perky, just plain bubbly."
"Right, and last night before I drifted off, I could have sworn I saw a pig take flight right outside my window."
"You know what Emmett? To be so big and brawny, you're wit is really underappreciated."
"Ha. Ha. Now come, dance."
"I. Don't. Dance."
"And pigs don't fly, but remember my story?"
Before Edward had a chance to answer, the arm around his shoulders had become a vice, pulling him inexorably towards the center of the club.
The center of the club was at least ten degrees hotter than it had ever been outside today, but that wasn't what was bothering Edward; and now that he'd been pulled into the big hot epicenter, he'd have to dance – but that wasn't the Big Thing that really pissed him off (gave him hives, almost, really – he could swear he could feel them forming).
It was being here, with Emmett, having to pretend to have fun. It was having to affect a life. Edward had sworn off human blood for years – and was pretty good at keeping his oath. But having to then by extension act like his former prey? God, this was going to be hard.
"And you swing your hips like this, uh huh, yeah yeah – that's exactly it." Edward turned his head at the sound of his brother's voice to realize that said sibling was trying to teach some shy looking girl how to dance. Dance.
"This is absurd," he mutters, already looking for a way to sneak out.
"What's that, little brother?" Emmett turns from his nervous but excited pupil to enquire of his brother.
"Oh, you know, just saying how happy I am to be here. To myself." He realizes how bad that sounds, but it's Emmett.
"Oh, ok. Just, just start moving soon. I didn't bring you all the way out here to sulk in a big group. That defeats the purpose," Emmett admonishes as he turns back to the girl. And then Edward is alone – right about his lie being effective, and also right, as he thought in his head, that once it's continued, and this whole thing is carried forth, he'll be stranded in a, gulp, mosh pit.
"Want to dance?"
The question comes out of nowhere, and at first Edward is sure it isn't directed at him. So he lets a few seconds of silence elapse, and the question is repeated again. This time he turns to find the inquisitive soul who is really starting to bug him.
She's young, maybe a year younger than Edward. Well, not actually a year younger than he is – that'd make her hundreds of years old; no, she's probably sixteen.
"Huh?" She doesn't seem taken aback by his confusion. She just smiles a little more, this time it seems flavored by a hint of insecurity or confusion herself.
"My friends – you see them over there? – they dared me to come over and ask you to dance. And I said ok, so what do you say? Want to make a girl do good on her bet? Otherwise, I'm afraid I may lose a kneecap…"
She's joking with him, Edward can recognize that. But he's not really at the place in his vampire-human relations where he can joke back. So he doesn't, but a part of him finds the proposition appealing, if only in the sense of helping this girl out…
"Stephanie." She sticks her hand out. Instead of shaking it, he brushes his fingers over hers, leading her by mere physical intimation to a clear space where they can begin dancing.
He knew how to dance, really he did. But in a 21st-century club, he wasn't sure he was a modern as everyone else. Edward's dancing usually involved large group synchronicity. So he let the girl – Stephanie – start, hoping he'd be able to fall right in alongside her.
The beat changed just as she started moving. No longer was it the mid-tempo music that accompanied her earlier invitation; now it was a whirling cacophony of crashing beats. A small part of Edward became less surprised at his current situation, and slightly more curious at how his partner would deal with the shift.
It was subtle, but hey – he was a vampire, he could catch the way Stephanie shifted. At first her movements had been patient, scattered out with a slow logic that allowed her to twist and move along to something unseen. (He may be a lot of things, but Edward Cullen did not get "rhythm.") Now that the air was filled with a different sound though, not only had her movements sped up, but they'd also changed texture. No longer did they slink along in slow, large patterns of symmetry; now they spun and interacted together with frenetic devotion. It was truly a spectacle – a sight for sore (vampiric) eyes.
"If you're not going to dance, you may need to go get a rag," Stephanie said.
"Huh?" Entranced – was that it? Was he entranced? – as he was, that was all his brain would muster.
"You know, for all the drool you've been wasting over me." Her admonishment is punctured by a vibrant laugh, and there is something definitely surreal about the two of them flirting in this context: both in a crowded dance floor, only one dancing, the other standing. Life, thought Edward, is pretty surreal though, for…for…people.
"I love this song; do you know it?" Another one of Stephanie's friendly questions – and bound to be one of her last if the sullen guy she's standing next to doesn't do something like, hello!, dance – and he had to think up a response. Come on Edward…
"Yeah, definitely," he answered. That didn't come out awkward at all.
"Oh, great," she smiles again. "Decided to dance yet?" He's floundering, he knows that, and somewhere around here his older brother can probably just sense that no fun is being had. Well it wasn't really Edward's idea in the first place, was it? Still…
"I'll dance if you promise not to ruin my pretty shoes," he says, finally relieving Stephanie of that questioning look she'd put on her face and the tension that had built up. All with a little joke – humans were so obsessed with decorum.
"Am I going to have to teach you, too?" Stephanie asks as he assumes what he approximates to be the correct position next to her; at first he's tempted to not respond and just start, but then he realizes this is a different joke from her. She's actually flirting with him now. God help her.
"No, no. I think I got it, just…go slow," Edward replies, trying to smile back with the same avidness.
And that is how the next minutes, and songs, pass by: Stephanie effortlessly moving in rhythm and seemingly spontaneous dance steps to each song while Edward studies her for a few minutes each shift and tries to imitate. As the fourth song is drawing to a close, he's starting to feel like the whole modern-day dancing scene isn't that bad. (And neither is trying to be normal, he thinks.)
II
In all the noise of the club, it's difficult to pick up anything -- for a normal person, anyway. Edward hears every door creak, every floorboard shift, and every glass clink. So when he hears the entrance slam for the latest time, he thinks nothing of it (as a vampire, you learn to tune these things out) but his dancing partner also seems to notice this particular noise; and it scares her.
"Steph?" he asks. The nickname comes easily to his lips, but he doesn't even noticed. Her face, and the look it is currently possessing, is all that he's focusing on.
"Do you think…could you—go get that big guy you came in with?" Her voice is quivering slightly as she turns from where she had looked to the front of the club back to him.
"You mean my brother? Emmett? You want him to join the dancing too?" He doesn't get it yet, this immense, and immensely quick, shift in human emotions; he's joking when he should just be listening, responding. Not talking.
"Could you go get him, please, umm…umm…" And that's when they both realized he never told her his name, and in that realization, something clicks with him. He starts to move to where he thought he can just pick up the sound of his big brother's laughter. He's turning his head back to her, to say his name ("It's Edwar—") when he runs smack dab into a big mountain of something—of flesh.
Tilting his head upward to get a better look at the giant thing currently standing in his way, Edward noticed two things simultaneously: this guy, whoever he was, was seriously – seriously – huge; but (and this slightly re-assured Edward, who so far in this night of dancing and chatting with mortal teenage girls had had his behavioral compass tilted so far bass-ackwards that he wasn't even sure what to do with the dude) he still flinched as the young vampire walked into him. At least he wasn't immortal like some people in the club…
"Excuse…excuse me," Edward mutters in what he hopes is a courteous tone as he tries to slide past the man. In response all he gets is a massive hand shoving into his chest. Ok, ok: the guy isn't immortal, but he's strong enough to shove Edward back a few feet.
It's ridiculous, the situations he seems to find himself in sometimes, and noticing this seems to clear his head. Edward shoves back, albeit lightly. He doesn't want to hurt the dumbass.
"Hey," he says, lacing his soon-to-be threat with velvety menace. "You wouldn't want to hurt anyone…"
Edward doesn't really give the guy a chance to respond – he merely notices his shocked expression, satisfying himself with that – before he turns back to Stephanie, who looks (and rightly so) like she's really happy Edward didn't have time to go get Emmett. One supernatural rescuer is more than enough.
The mountain-man hulk-thing has apparently decided that Edward isn't worth the trouble…or that continuing to seem to think so would be bad for his health. Either way, he sidles past him towards Stephanie, who merely lets her eyes get bigger instead of – you know – running away.
"You said, what was it? Let me see if I can remember your exact words…oh yeah, 'That I'd never get to be around again.' And yet here I am. And here you are. God, I love coincidence." For such a big man, the guy's voice is surprisingly reedy, almost raspy.
"Did I say that? Really? See, Jake, you may be remembering it wrong. It 's more likely, me and you being you know what we are, that I just needed some space; that's what I said: 'I needed space.' You're just remembering it wrong."
"I sure hope so," The guy – Jake – says, as he moves closer. Edward is the one who is the third wheel, and apparently Stephanie, scared though she so consumedly seems, doesn't move away. She just stares.
"Humans and all of their fears and inhibitions – Christ," Edward nearly screams to himself internally; and then he makes a rather rash decision: he grabs Jake's shoulder and hauls him around.
"She was dancing with me, Jake, and it's not very polite to just cut in." That Segal-worthy zinger tossed-off (apparently all this socializing has re-invigorated the sass somewhere deep in Edward's brain) he makes another rash decision: he punches Jake clean in the face. With only the barest modicum of restraint
He goes down hard, but then he's back up even faster. And then he's hitting Edward even harder than Edward thought he hit Jake.
(It's all irrelevant – and Edward's observations are mere surface thoughts – because a human punch on a vampire's skin is the equivalent of a plastic knife scraping concrete.)
Edward attempts to affect some sort of pained look, so any onlookers don't get the feeling he has the pain tolerance of a dump truck, and ruefully notes that his attacker is trying to do the exact opposite: Jake's attempting to mask all the agony his fists must be in from repeatedly mashing up against Edward's marble face.
Almost a minute later, it's obvious to all parties involved that the "fight" is starting to drag. Jake tries to punch Edward with a little more ferocity, but not only can his hands barely handle it, the increased rate draws nothing but a barely suppressed yawn from the young creature-of-the-night.
Edward had just begun to think of a satisfactory way for him to end this whole charade when he finally notices something: the circle surrounding him and his new pal has increased by a factor of 1. Emmett.
"Ahem." That was his older brother being subtle. It wouldn't last long.
There's a pause afterward – the group seems to notice the barely-veiled weight and power of the new addition's voice. And his size, too, is pretty hard to ignore. Jake looks up and stops punching. Edward coyly notes that two of his knuckles have started to bleed a little, and the other six are a deep red-purple.
"Yeah?" is Jake's brilliant response twenty seconds after Emmett joined their little party.
"What are you doing, exactly?"
"He's teaching me how to dance, Emmett," Edward cuts in before Jake can do any more damage to himself, verbally or physically. (He knows Emmett wouldn't kill him so publicly, but his brother does look really mad. Maybe he thought Edward was really hurt…)
"Really? Dancing? What do you call this move?" He points down at the two of them sprawled there, and for a moment it's Silly Emmett that covers up his words, but it's only a mask.
Jake is a little confused by this exchange – he has too few neurons for so rapid a transfusion of wit and eloquence into his small brain – but he hides it well…by getting up, and trying to menace the older of the two vampires.
"Your friend here," he points at Edward, who is still lying, placidly, on the floor, "was being a real asshole. To my girlfriend. I had to deal with him."
Emmett lifts an eyebrow in his little brother's direction, and said brother turns his head in the direction of Stephanie, hoping she might refute what Jake is saying. She just looks scared and trapped, unsure. Emmett turns back to Jake.
"Well…" and then he punches Jake one good, solid time. And Jake goes down, hard. And doesn't get back up.
The accrued crowd would have gasped but everything happened so fast, they just kind of stand around, wide-eyed. Emmett walks over to Edward and extends his hand.
"I told you you'd have fun."
"Ha. Ha," the younger of the pair mocks as he takes his brother's hand and lifts himself off the ground.
They're both almost through the exit when Emmett asks, "What about her?" and he looks back at Stephanie, who isn't quite so wide-eyed, but is mostly just looking down at a groaning Jake.
"You know, it's crazy – Stephanie, I mean – it's just…we were dancing and then that guy, her old boyfriend I guess, showed up…and she was all…I don't know…" Finishing his sentence, Edward could feel a rare depression settle over him like a dark cloud during a summer afternoon.
Emmett is ahead of him, he's taller and when he wants to, has a faster gait, but he looks back as his little brother trails off.
"Women," he laughs.
"Humans," Edward corrects. And then he laughs too, he can't help it – Emmett is infectious.
He's just settling into the passenger seat of their car, when a question pops into his mind.
"Why'd you hit that guy – Jake? You could have just pulled me out from under him and we'd be out." It's an honest, valid, question Edward thinks, but to hear it from Emmett's perspective, it must be insane, because his big brother bursts into a big loopy grin.
"Why? 'Cause, Edward, you're my little brother, and 'cause if anyone is going to repeatedly punch you in the face, it should be someone who can actually do damage."
"Like you?" Edward teases, already knowing the answer.
"Hey, hey, I didn't say that."
"But you were thinking it…" Emmett's only response is an even bigger grin, and a punch to Edward's shoulder, who can't help a small wounded yelp.
As they pull out of the parking lot, Edward is paradoxically touched and rankled. Being, and acting, like a human is too much work, but underneath it all…
There's Emmett, and his family. And they understand it, him. No bar fights or dance lessons included.