So, I open my mouth to tell you guys how quickly this story is bursting out of me, and then August happens. Most hellacious month ever. Can we wipe it from the calendars, please? Guys, I'm so sorry. It's here, though, and you won't have to wait this long ever again.

Thanks to Ali & snarkerella for making this look pretty. Thanks to everyone who's reviewing, reading, recommending. The three R's. I love you guys so frickin' much.

Small recap of where we left off:

Edward spent the night at Bella's after falling asleep smoking. Then, they fought when Bella didn't want to go out, and Edward thought it was because she thought he couldn't keep up. Bella gets really drunk and tries to sleep with him. She wakes up barfing. He helps her, makes her eggs, and kisses her face.

This chapter picks up about three weeks after that.

xXxXx

All the Way to the Edge of Desire

Bella has her camera positioned at Edward's face as he logs into the school server. He's so nervous about passing his first semester after his illness, his long, pale fingers are shaking against the keys. She knows his password and checked it this afternoon - he got an A, two B's, and a C plus. He was hoping for all C's; he has trouble getting his hopes up.

So she has her camera, and he's annoyed, thinking she's about to mock his bereavement. But when this huge smile breaks out over his face, cracking all the worry and stress cemented against his expression, she clicks left and right, laughing with him.

"Holy fuck," he breathes, putting his hands over his face. "I think I just shit my pants."

She snaps a picture of him side-eyeing her, and then another picture of him mid-tackle. Her camera falls to the bed, and his lips smoosh hers.

"You knew," he whispers against her mouth, his lips brushing back and forth.

She closes her eyes and hums. It feels so good. So soft and sweet, like the echo of a love song.

"You left me in suspense." He draws her up, off her back. He settles against the headboard, and she plops against him, his chest against her shoulder blades.

She picks her camera back up, fiddling with the many buttons. She takes a couple pictures of his large hand against her thigh. She loves it there so much, and she refuses to forget what it looks like.

"I knew you'd rather figure it out yourself," she answers finally, zooming in against the strong angle of his jaw. He clenches it, and the tendon bulges against the fulcrum.

"Keep taking pictures like that, and you'll have an excellent career ahead of you," he says against her neck, his lips wet and warm.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah… the paparazzi is calling your name." He settles again, and she leans against him fully, loving the warmth of him against her back. "I can't believe my grades – I can't."

"We should celebrate," she remarks, setting her camera down on her nightstand. "And you should call your parents and tell them the good news."

His smile drops into a scowl. "They didn't even want me to go to school to begin with. That's why I moved. I had to get on with my life. They wanted me to stay around and 'recover' – I mean, how am I going to recover if I keep acting like I'm sick? You know?"

It's the most he's ever said about his parents, so she doesn't want to interrupt. Still, he's asked her opinion (kind of), so she offers it. "I think there's a balance there, one you still need to find. If you weren't aware that you're still sick, you wouldn't push yourself so hard. You'd probably be as lazy as me."

She feels his shrug. "What grades did you get, hmmm?"

She doesn't want to tell him. "Are you hungry?"

"That's the least subtle subject change ever. Did you fail? Come on, tell me."

"I didn't fail. I did okay…" She tries to hop up. "Come on, I'm starving."

He wraps his arms completely around her. "Spill."

"All A's…" She's embarrassed by her success, because she doesn't want him to feel like she's accomplished more by having better grades. She's just always been a good student, and the fact that he was in school at all – that's the greatest accomplishment in the world.

"Wow. Good job." He sounds pleased for her. "I wouldn't have gotten a B in behavior mod had you let me copy off your answers more, though."

"Maybe if you would've spent more time studying instead of trying to pry answers out of me…"

He grins against her hair. She can feel his lips pull up, and hers do too, like they're magnets. "I'm happy for you… baby."

He's never used a term of endearment for her. He says it hesitantly, trying it out on his tongue, like an expensive wine he's not sure he wants to buy. But her heart tells her that she loves it, pounding an excited tattoo against her ribs.

He works his hands across her shoulders, and she flexes her neck against his touch. She loves his attention and flourishes under any of it. He smoothes his hands down her bare arms and tickles her stomach.

"You know what's weird?" he whispers after a moment of dragging his blunt nails across her thighs.

"What?" Her skin is coming alive under his touch.

"You're hard everywhere. I mean… you're soft. Your skin is so soft, but underneath that, it's all hard. You're all… every time you move, I can feel the muscles it shifts."

She breathes with him for a few moments, just enjoying his scratchy nails and warm palms. Then she grabs a hold of his hands, and says, "There's a part of me that isn't hard."

He breathes out slowly. "Where?"

She slides his hands up her thighs, her torso, and onto her breasts. His hands flex around the weight, and she kisses his neck, and her breath is damp on his skin, and he's squeezing and panting and she's on fire.

He's had her flat on her back in this bed, grinding against her until she was sore. He's skimmed the underside of her bra, and she's rubbed against his erections, but they haven't gone this far. She doesn't know if it's the 'baby' or the pride or the fact that she feels like they're finally official after months of dancing around it, but she's ridiculously turned on by him and his breath and kisses and sounds.

His hands sneak under her shirt, and his fingers are on her bare skin, twisting the pink peak and making her pant against his chin. She bites him, and he pinches, and she's hot and squirming and wet and wants those fingers everywhere.

Keeping one hand firmly grasping the tight nipple, he scoots the other under her yoga pants. She arches her hips to meet him, and he's not subtle. He doesn't waste any time, and she loves it, how he can tell she wants the feeling now. He slides a long finger inside and groans against her ear, and she rotates her hips against every pull and push of his digit. He pulls out and uses her wetness to rub her in tight little circles, all the while plucking at her nipple, and she's there, there, there –

He latches onto her neck and sucks as she comes, writhing and twitching and trying not to make too much noise. She turns immediately to repay the favor, but he bats her hand away. Before she has time to be offended, she's flat on her back, and his face is between her legs, and his tongue and lips are stimulating the over-stimulated.

"Ah, ah, ah – Edward," she hisses, grabbing his hair to push him away or maybe pull him closer. Her thighs twitch with every pass of his tongue, and it's so hot, and she's so out of it, and she can't think, just feel, and even that is difficult, with all the – the –

It takes her forever to come this time, like her body is exhausted from the first unexpected rupture. When she does, she presses his face close to her, and it's slow waves, warm in her belly, like whiskey by a fire. She hums quietly, and he scoots his wet lips against her skin, and she's reminded of her bloody dream, but this is so much better.

He wipes his wet mouth against her rumpled, tattered shirt, making her laugh. He rests his whole body on top of her and kisses her, and she tastes herself and his gum and cigarettes and the combination of them makes tears come to her eyes, like the end of a Disney movie.

"That was unexpected," he murmurs, still kissing her lips.

"Edward, I want – " She reaches down towards his buckle. She doesn't want to come again, but she wants to feel his weight in her hand, the taste inside her mouth, the push inside of her body.

"It's not really – " He sighs and backs away. She straightens her shirt and pulls her pants back up. "The drugs – the chemo. They kind of… wreak havoc on everything. Including my little swimmers. And I… well – " He goes onto explain how his sperm just isn't healthy, and if they accidentally conceive it could be disastrous, and that he's lucky to even get erections in the first place. "It renders a lot of men impotent, but…" He grins. He's such an attractive combination of boyish charm and destroyed man, she wants to hold him and blurt four letter words that could mean trouble.

"So what does that mean… as far as our sex life?" She blushes. "Well… future sex life. That is, assuming – I mean. I don't know…"

"Are you asking me out?"

"Don't be mean, Edward."

"I'm not. I thought a lot of that stuff was implied. Well, all of it. Sorry, I… the term girlfriend really grates on my nerves. Sounds so high school prom, you know?"

"Yeah." But she thinks it would sound like an honor to be called his. "I… never mind. My mom… she invited me to Banff. Have you been?"

"No. Where is that?"

"Canada. Alberta… um, near Calgary. It's beautiful. They have a home there. They want me to come for Christmas."

He nods. She watches the loneliness creep into his eyes, like a recurring nightmare. "Oh. Cool. That'll be fun."

"I want you to come."

"What?"

"Actually… you're coming. I already know you're not going home. And you owe me after what happened on Thanksgiving."

He scowls. "Bella, I've said I'm sorry – "

"Yelling at me for inviting you to Thanksgiving dinner in Forks… accusing me of making you into a charity case – "

"Do we have to do this again? I got you flowers."

He did. He pulled them out of the flowerpot on her neighbor's sill. They still smelled like earth. But she had forgiven him anyway and took his plea to not let him push her away to heart.

"No. We don't. All I'm saying is that you owe me for ruining my Thanksgiving. I told mom I was bringing Emily, but she's actually going home for once. I have an extra plane ticket, so… you're coming."

"I can't afford – "

"When did I say you have to pay? You don't. Trust me, my mom loves wasting money. She's exceedingly generous. Anyway, my whole point is… was… whatever, that I don't know what to tell her you are."

"Tell her I'm a human."

"Don't be a jerk."

"I'm not. What do you want me to say, Bella?"

"Are you my boyfriend?"

"Is it that important to you?"

She wants to cry for some reason. "Is it not important to you?"

"I could take or leave the title."

"Get out. Just go away." She turns away from him, feeling ridiculous. She feels younger than him for being so upset about it, but older than him for realizing the importance of being able to call someone hers.

"No. Stop. Bella…" He shakes her shoulder. "Come on. I don't understand. We're adults here – you know how I feel about you."

"I really don't," she bites. Maybe she does, but she wants to hear it. He's taken and given, but she wants the middle part, too, where he doesn't have to do a thing, and she'll still want to be with him.

"Bella… look, this is hard for me. I know I should be a lot more in touch with my emotions because of the whole death thing, but I – "

"Never mind. I'd hate to make you uncomfortable." She's being such a brat, but does he not get that it hurts?

He takes a hold of her face and kisses her until she's clinging to him, her legs wrapped around his waist. His lips are so smooth and soft and insistent and want things from her that she can't stop giving.

"You're… really important to me," he says finally, brushing his nose against hers. "It scares the shit out of me to care about someone this much, and to… assumedly, make someone care about me, too. I don't have any guarantees. I've told you that. My life is literally a time bomb. Do you understand that?"

She does, but she doesn't. Right now, he's warm and alive and earnest and beautiful. She can't imagine the disease slamming into him, and then having to see him cold and broken with the flat heart line and the – no, no, no.

"I understand," she whispers against his cheek. "But do you? The cancer is just a part of you. It's weird - sometimes you act like it's not even there, but then you get mad when I do the same. What do you want? You're asking me that, right? Well, I'm asking you. My friends are important to me, but I don't want to be with them. They're just my friends who are important."

"I want to be with you," he tells her. "I want to do all the stupid stuff that means we're together, like eat in public, hold hands in public, and do dirty stuff in private. And then wake up and still like each other and want to do it all over again the next day. That's what I want. I want you."

"I just like knowing where I belong," she says after a moment of smiles and kisses. "I want to know if I belong where you are, Edward."

He sighs. "You belong here. I want you here, and I want to be where you are, all the time. You're my first thought in the morning, and my last thought is either being glad I'm next to you, or wishing I was." He draws his thumb down her cheek. "For someone who just came twice thanks to me, you are sure demanding."

"You got a B in behavior mod because of me. I let you use my book, remember? Pay back."

"That's right…" He settles against her chest.

"I have one more request," she states after a few quiet minutes.

"Of course you do."

"I want to see where you live."

xXxXx

It's a fight. A big one. But an hour later, Edward is silent in the car on the way there. Bella is a bit triumphant, but trying not to show it. The only time she's even glanced at his place was the night they went to the bar, but she had been a little tipsy at the time, and not really paying attention.

But he's so been so fiercely adamant about not seeing it, her curiosity is running overtime. So she might have done mean girl tricks like cry a bit and the silent treatment, but it worked in the long run, so whatever.

"Edward…"

He sighs. "What, Bella? What else could I possibly do for you? I spill my heart out, and then show you the land of my poorness. What more do you desire?"

"I just wanted to know if you could turn up the heater. I'm freezing." She really is. It's December, and the heater is barely on the first notch.

"No. You better get used to it." His hands clench around the steering wheel.

"What?"

"I can't afford to keep the heat on for very long. So, it's a million layers of clothes and coffee. Still wanna come?"

She crosses her arms. "Yeah, I wanna come."

"Are you sure? I'll just bet you've never been cold in your entire life."

"You don't know anything, Edward. Anything. Before my parents divorced, we were extremely poor. My dad wasn't Chief; he was just a new officer on the force. My mom substitute taught sometimes, but in a small town like Forks, the teachers basically have to die or retire before you can get a job. So we were poor. Mom made this thing… she called it 'beef stew', and I never really understood why, no matter how many spoonfuls, I never got the beef. You know what it was? Carrots, boiling water, and a couple beef bullion cubes. And a lot of saltine crackers." She's not ashamed of the memory. She's proud of her parents for always having food on the table, and always making sure she was fed first.

She thinks Edward must have been her opposite: a spoiled rich boy, and now a sour poor man. Instead of being grateful for what he has, he's upset about what he doesn't.

"I didn't know," he says quietly after a minute.

"Obviously. Oh, and Ramen. It's still ridiculously cheap, but back then, it was like ten cents a pack. Sometimes, mom would sprinkle a little garlic salt in it, to give it a bit more flavor. But that was pretty much the extent of our luxuries for years. I guess mom got fed up and left… I mean, not just because we were poor. She and my dad – such different people. And not good different, not opposites attract different. Like, I'm making your life frickin' miserable different. So, she left… I didn't understand for a long time, but I do now. And ironically, after she left, since Charlie was feeding one less person, things got easier. He kept getting promoted, and stuff evened out. Esme had always given me free dance lessons, and that continued… so things were okay. I'm not trying to give you a lecture. I'm just saying don't act like I couldn't possibly understand."

He's quiet for a long time, but his hand sneaks across the console to hold hers. She squeezes his fingers and he sighs in a way that asks, how can things get better than this?

xXxXx

It's in a low-income area, one that houses mainly families. It's not covered in graffiti or broken couches, and it's not even dirty. It's just distinctly plain and old-looking. The stairs they climb to his apartment are cement and cracked, and his front door needs paint, badly.

So, she's thinking it's not nearly as bad as Edward makes it out to be. She thinks he's just being a drama queen. But when he pushes open the door, she can't help but let her mouth drop a bit.

It's one room. There is no furniture except a mattress in the middle of the room, with a space heater next to it. There are a few overturned crates that have mismatched dishes with remnants of food on the surface, and a threadbare sheet covering the bathroom area.

And it's freezing. Her teeth chatter nearly right away, and Edward curses and goes to a box stacked against the wall. He pulls out a t-shirt, a sweatshirt and a big parka.

"Arms up," he tells her.

She thrusts her arms in the air, and he puts each layer over her body, apologizing the whole time. She refuses to punk out and act like it bothers her. But in actuality, his apartment is the saddest thing she's ever seen. Not because of his obvious income problem, but because she has to think of him here, night after night, sick and shivering.

"If you caught a cold here… Edward." She's done some research on chemo, and his type of cancer, which he revealed to be leukemia a few weeks back. "I know your immune system is stronger – but when you first moved here…"

"I was with Alice when I was extremely sick. She took care of me."

"Except that one night you missed class – "

"It's in the past, Bella. I don't have a choice."

She sighs and moves to the kitchen area. He has several orange packages of chicken Ramen stacked against the mini-fridge, along with a couple things of instant grits, coffee grounds, and a flat two-liter of grocery store brand coke.

"Stay with me," she blurts. She's embarrassed about saying it, and she knows how he feels about charity, but she can't let him do this – be poor and hungry and freezing when he doesn't have to be.

"I'm fine here."

"Which is why you spend all of your time at my apartment."

He makes a disgusted noise. "Because you're there. Not because of your heat or light or cooking – "

"At least for the winter. You said it yourself – whenever you wake up without me, go to sleep without me… it sucks. I feel the same way."

"We've only been dating for – "

"Two hours?"

"Hilarious. A couple months. We'll drive each other insane."

"Maybe. But this – this will drive me more insane. Knowing what you're coming back to. It's not that it's beneath me to let you live here – it's not about your favorite buzzword, charity. It's about – "

"I don't even have a job. I can't pay you, and I'm not living with you if I can't pay you."

"Orgasms are as good as gold."

He laughs, but scowls like he's mad about it. "No."

"Edward – "

She doesn't really know if she believes in fate, but at that moment, it steps in. Her phone buzzes against her, and when she answers, it's Esme.

She's ranting in broken English and French, and Bella has to tell her to slow down before she can understand a word her godmother is saying.

"It's Jack," Esme says finally, sounding mad as hell. "The plumbing backed up, and I don't want to even attempt to try, I'll make it worse – that lousy maintenance worker just up and quit! Just like that!"

Bella is trying not to smile – when Esme is really upset, her 'th' sounds become a 'z'.

"What's the problem?" asks Edward, sitting down with a huff on his mattress. It groans under his weight.

"Esme's maintenance worker – I'm not allowed to call him a janitor, she says it's uncouth – just quit on her after the plumbing backed up."

"Just tell her to get a snake and – "

"A snake?" Bella cries, and Esme echoes her sentiment.

"It's a long cord – you can use it to unclog drains…" He looks embarrassed. "My first job was a plumber's assistant… weird, right?"

"So… you know what to do?" Bella asks.

"Yeah…"

"Esme," says Bella, all business now. "Did you say you need a new maintenance man?"

"Oui, that imbecile just quit on me!"

Bella smiles at Edward. He sighs in defeat, nodding.

"Okay."

"Esme? I think I found you a handyman," laughs Bella. She hangs up the phone and grabs Edward around the middle. He's looking at her with this strange mix of awe and annoyance.

"You don't give up, do you?"

"Edward, Edward…" She kisses him, and it's difficult to do so, because the parka she has on is so fluffy. "You can't always get what you wa-want…" She starts singing an old Stones song, and he covers his ears, groaning.

"Can it, Swan."

"But sometimes… what you need finds you." She grins at him, and he smiles back.

It's the best victory she's ever had.

xXxXx

This chapter title comes from "Edge of Desire" by John Mayer. Have you heard the acoustic apartment session version? I weep.

Next up: Bella and Edward go to Banff. See you then!