A/N: Lalalalala. I have no idea what this will be about. Hmm…maybe a bit more thought should be put into this. Dodododo. Fluff warning. That much is for sure.
"We need to have a family discussion!" Carlisle shouted through the house, alerting each of us as we went about our business. "Now," he groaned when no one made a move to respond.
A collective sigh could be heard throughout the house, followed by slow footsteps toward the family room. I sat down on the couch between Bella and Cole, settling in for the sure-to-be long lecture.
Carlisle threw his hands up in exasperation. "We have too many cars!"
I could sense that I was not the only one taken off-guard by his topic. Even Edward tilted his head to the side. Carlisle studied our reactions and sighed. He sat down with Esme and took a deep breath.
"Really, why do we have so many? We even have trouble figuring out who'll drive every time we move. We already have that freaking showroom collection in Seattle. I think we need to sell a few of them."
"Not the Volvo," Edward stated solemnly. "I will not sell my baby." Bella punched him and he coughed. "I mean, I won't sell my car."
"You bastard," Bella muttered, turning away from her husband.
"Well I had guessed that no one would really jump at the opportunity to get rid of any of them. But would anyone be willing to sacrifice it? We can't just keep eight cars in the driveway of every house we live in."
"I'll sell the M3 if I can get my Maserati out of the garage in Seattle," Rosalie said excitedly, smiling from ear to ear.
"Rose," Carlisle began, "the point is to get rid of some of the cars. Not to replace them."
She pouted.
"But," he allowed, "I will let you get it." She squealed. He held up a protesting hand. "Hold on, I'll let you get it if we get rid of three cars."
She pouted again.
"I think each couple only needs one car. Esme and I have been fine with the Mercedes for years. You'll all survive, I promise. Everyone think about it, and we'll talk in the morning."
We dispersed, and the entire night was filled with conversation about our automobiles. Of course, Bella and Edward didn't have much to discuss; neither did Carlisle and Esme. Cole and I made the decision easily.
"I think I should sell my car."
He sighed. "Are you sure about that? It was a gift from Edward," he reminded me.
I nodded. "I know, but so was yours. And yours is worth a lot more than mine. But I was thinking…maybe we could go to Seattle and look at some of Rose and Edward's cars there, and maybe we could end up selling both of ours and picking out one of theirs for both of us."
He grinned. "This is why I love you—you're a genius."
We laughed. I asked Carlisle if we could go, and he thought it to be an excellent idea. He suggested, though, that we wait until after the morning meeting to talk about it with the rest of the family. He informed me that Alice and Jasper and Rosalie and Emmett were deep in conversation…or argument. We couldn't be sure.
Alice was crying when the morning meeting came to be. Jasper held her as dry sobs shook her tiny frame. Rose sat angrily on the opposing couch, Emmett casually draping an arm over her tense shoulders. The remainder of the family sat calmly around them, wondering to ourselves what brought on all the emotion.
"I'm selling the M3," Rosalie finally announced with a grimace. "And I am not happy about it. I better get the Maserati," she grumbled. She folded her arms over her chest and exhaled loudly.
"Thank you, Rosalie," Carlisle said kindly. "I appreciate your sacrifice."
After a few more minutes of awkward silence and staring at Alice—still crying—Carlisle coughed, hoping to speed up their verdict. Jasper patted her back lovingly, and whispered reassuring words in her ear.
She sniffled. "I…I'm selling the Porsche." She broke down again, leaning into Jasper.
Carlisle sat on Alice's other side, patting her head. "Thank you, Alice. This means a lot. Now you'll get to annoy anyone you'd like for a ride."
She perked up a bit at this thought.
Bella looked up at me. "So…which of you is selling your car?" she asked, her hand entwined with Edward's. The relief that she didn't have a horse in this race was evident on her face.
"I'm going to," I announced. I sighed. "But so is Cole."
All eyes, aside from Carlisle's, turned to me in confusion.
"That hardly seems reasonable."
"I'm not giving you a ride."
"Why? His car is so hot!"
"One of you needs to keep a car. We can't always carpool."
"Hey!" I silenced them. "Can I finish, maybe?" The family nodded in unison. "We're going to Seattle to pick one of the cars out from the garage for the two of us."
Rosalie's grimace flipped up into an over-ecstatic grin. "Really, you're going?! You have to bring me along."
"Me, too," Bella conceded. "I've never been to the Seattle house before."
"Well," Carlisle said, drawing out the word, "I thought we'd all take a little vacation."
--
Two days later I was standing in the house formerly owned by Kurt Cobain. Cole and I gawked in awe at every detail of the house, paying special attention to the red stains on the carpet in the room above the smaller garage.
"Why did no one bother to tell us, two of the world's biggest Nirvana fans, that we own Kurt Cobain's house?" I asked Carlisle as we walked to the house's basement—Edward and Rosalie's exclusive garage.
He shrugged. "Dunno. Didn't think about it, really." He flipped the switch to his left, and row upon row of spotlights shone on the car collection.
My jaw dropped. I guessed that thirty cars sat, lined up precisely, on the concrete floor. I was waiting for an over-enthusiastic car salesman to emerge from the dark, a wicked grin on his face that read 'Hi. You know you want this car.'
Rosalie hugged me from behind. "See one you like?" she laughed, resting her head on my shoulder.
"I don't know yet. Let me look around." I shoved her off jokingly, and took Cole's hand. "Ready?"
We scoured the garage, speculating the details of each car carefully. One car would be too small, one had too many miles on it, Cole wasn't too crazy about the color of another. Our family dispersed soon after we began our hunt; we bored them immensely. The girls went out, Carlisle and Esme went upstairs to read, and the boys were playing X-Box.
I went to sit by the door while Cole continued to weigh his options; I no longer cared. My elbows resting on my crossed knees, I sat my face in my hands. Cole strolled through the rows again, and I sighed.
"Would you pick one already? I'm bored out of my mind, here!"
"I think I found one," he announced from the back left corner of the garage. I muttered my thanks and went to find him. My husband sat on the last car in the room—a BMW M5 Sedan.
"I like," I purred, going to sit on his lap.
He welcomed me, and we sat in silence for a moment.
"Do you really like this one?" he asked, looking down at me with concerned eyes. "I only want to get one we both like—no, one we both love."
"Well, I love it. And I love you." I leaned up to kiss him. "Now let's go tell everyone so we can go home and find a new house to move into." I smacked his knee playfully and skipped over to the door.
He followed with a laugh at my cheerful attitude. We informed everyone of our choice, and Carlisle suggested we settle in for the rest of the week.
Alice had driven her Porsche to Washington—one final adventure together, she called it. Carlisle had made the mistake of mentioning the…departure…of the car to Alice one afternoon, and she broke out in dry tears as she had nearly a week earlier. Jasper was immediately at her side, comforting her.
"Alice, shh, it's okay. Don't cry, please?" he begged, giving her puppy eyes. "We don't have to sell it. I won't let you sell your baby. I can sell my car. It'll be alright, baby. Don't cry."
"No," she protested. "Ayden bought you that car just a few months ago. I'm selling the Porsche." She sniffled once more, and pulled herself together. "I'm a big girl."
"Does anyone else really have to sell one? I mean, Cole and I are both selling ours. Can't Alice keep the Porsche?" I asked.
Carlisle smiled. "Excellent idea, dear. You're a smart one. Alice, you can keep the Porsche."
She beamed. "Really? Yay!" she squealed, clapping her hands together. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"
And it was good.
A/N: Baha. Only I would put them in Kurt Cobain's house. Le sigh. I don't know if Courtney or Frances still owns it. Oh well. Review! Here's Emmett for hugs!
Emmett: -Runs toward you for a hug-