Hello there.

It's been a while and I've (unfortunately) gotten over my outright dislike of Twilight to an extent. I've been eager to write lately, which is strange. I'm tempted to post a prologue of sorts to these drabbles, so if you'd like to read that let me know.

I couldn't tell you this fic's timeline. So let's stay blissfully ignorant.

Off you go then.

It was stifling.

Jacob's abnormal wolfish traits had long since faded, so it wasn't as if he was susceptible to anything out of the ordinary, but Christ was it hot.

He huffed, wiping his forehead with his arm. His hair was soaked with sweat and dripped into his eyes.

And to think he was slaving away out of the kindness of his heart! No one appreciated what he did around here.

Well, Bella did appreciate what he did... and Patrick was too young to know any better...

Fuck, he was going to pass out soon.

He figured that meant it was time to head inside.

Hauling himself to his feet was an effort in itself. The steps leading back into the house mocked him as he hung onto the railing. Taking off his sneakers without physically bending down made him feel like a complete moron. He leaned heavily against the wall while he struggled to press down on the heel of his left shoe with his right. After a dramatic performance he'd managed to take both his shoes off and slink toward the couch – the cool, leather couch. He endeavored to take off his socks before he collapsed onto the couch, but ended up jumping around like a fool before slamming onto the cushions. His eyes closed immediately. He was sticky with sweat and he hadn't ever felt this tired before. Mere seconds after he shut his eyes he was dozing. He heard everything that went on around him but couldn't bring himself to open his eyes.

He must have laid there for several minutes before he felt it.

Cold plastic tires, a slightly warm metal frame, maybe a bit damp as well. He heard a slight hum coming from a high pitched voice, and he assumed the voice was trying to copy a rumble. The tires roamed up and down his legs, sometimes catching his leg hair, making him curse quietly.

More voices. Midget ones.

"Pat!" Daniel exclaimed loudly, then noticing Jacob, "Pat," he said, much quieter, "what're you doin'?"

The younger boy shrugged. "Iono."

"Come on, it's not raining! Everyone's outside!"

Jacob had to admire the kid for being able to express his excitement so noiselessly.

"Dad's not out there."

Daniel scoffed. "So what?"

Patrick's eyes continued to follow the Hot Wheels car. "So I don't wanna play."

"But... he's sleeping," Daniel's voice faltered. "Don't you wanna ride bikes or something? It's boring inside."

"No it's not."

Jacob smiled into the cushion his face was smashed so elegantly into. His boy really wanted to stay with him. An oddity, that, since the rain was strangely absent. However, Jacob didn't want Patrick staying inside all day. Not on a beautiful day like this.

Sighing, he rolled himself over, much to the surprise of the two kids.

"Okay, it's too nice of a day to stay inside. You two go play; I'll be out there soon."

The words mentally scarred him. He'd just escaped the unforgiving heat and he was now willingly walking back into it. He watched the boys scamper out the back door and slouched over to the kitchen, reaching for the dishtowel hanging on the stove. He brought it to his clammy face and dried off the sweat.

He stared at the towel intently before hanging it back on the stove.

He turned on his heel and walked outside. In an instant he missed the comfort of the air conditioning from inside the house, but he ignored it and put on a smile for his son. Bella looked up at him curiously from her lawn chair, noting his pained expression. But he trudged on after Patrick, smiling (if a bit tightly) at him fondly as he chased Daniel playfully.

She looked down at the dog perched at her feet. Emily leaned over and patted Black's head.

"He's going to die if he doesn't get that bloodhound over there." the older woman said loftily. Bella's eyes drifted to the dog in question. The poor thing was panting forcibly.

"How do you figure?" she asked Emily.

"Well, take a look at his tally wacker and tell me he isn't in knots."

"Oh, Emily." Bella laughed.

"I'm serious!" Emily insisted. "Look at thing."

Bella slowly brought a hand to her face shook her head. "You're the most disgusting individual I've ever met. You even try to be innocent about it!"

Emily folded her arms over her chest. "Someone has to be."

Bella looked scandalized. "No, someone does not have to be!"

"Yes, yes, someone has to be. Think about it logically, Bella. The boys are all outrageously crude by themselves, but us, the women, don't have any comic relief! We need some humor in our lives!"

Bella rolled her eyes. "We are all fairly amused by your daily behavior, Emily. You have it covered, so don't bring in your gross commentary."

Emily flailed her arms in disapproval, knocking lemonade onto her blouse and face. "See, humor! Look, I'm covered in lemonade! Laugh, dammit!"

"Emily! I'll go get a towel..."

"No, let me ferment in it."

"I'm getting you a towel."

Bella stood and walked inside, picking up the dishtowel from the stove. She retreated back outside and held the towel up for Emily patiently.

"Take it."

"I told you I wanted to ferment!"

"Take the towel."

"Spoilsport."

Grudgingly, Emily took the towel from Bella's hands and began to dry off her face.

"Hmm... now that's certainly an interesting taste..."

"You licked the towel?"