Disclaimer: SM owns Twilight.
A/N: Well. That was supposed to just be a oneshot. But then I got another funny idea for poor Nerdward, and...here you go. Let me know if you think you'd be interested in reading any more adventures for these two. I'll save the rest for the end. I love A/Ns. I can never stop at just one. :)
Betaed by aleighy.
While ripping off each other's clothes had sounded like an attractive idea at the time, the aftermath proved to be a little more complicated. According to the cheap romance novels Bella secretly read during lunch, which I may or may not have also read in an attempt to get to know her better, the characters always attacked each other with wanton abandon before 'basking in the afterglow' and then fading to black. The books neglected to mention that tossing a shirt across the room might end it up in a trash can on top of a broken pen. My shirt was now a Rorshach card. Also, the books never discussed the consequences of popping buttons. Unless there is an emergency sewing kit on hand, a stapler is the best to be had.
Altogether, we looked a "hot mess," as Bella put it.
Her lips were swollen and her hair was tousled, worse than mine, or what mine looked like normally before Bella's fingers got a hold of it. Our clothes were haphazardly put back together, my slacks wrinkled and Bella's skirt not much better. She was also blushing a deep pink on account of her current panty-less status. The part where the man gets to keep his lover's panties was in the books. Mine. The Fabios were never mentioned blushing brighter than the women, but I was still new to this.
Opening her office door quietly, Bella poked her head out quickly before retreating and shutting the door again.
"Okay. For some reason, Tanya is glaring at Jasper's door like it gave her herpes. But she's completely focused on it, which means we should be able to make our escape undetected. So here's what we're going to do. I'll open my door so you can slip inside your office. Wait fifteen minutes and then meet me outside the parking garage elevator. We'll figure out whose car to take from there."
I nodded quickly, synchronizing my watch with the clock on Bella's desk.
"Only, um, I don't have a car. I ride my bike to work."
"You drive a motorcycle?" she asked incredulously, her eyes wide.
I swallowed, looking down at the ground.
"Um, no. It's just a bicycle. I only live a few miles away and my family all live in the city, so it's the most environmentally sound and efficient means of transportation. It's also my favorite, and only, means of exercise, due to the fact I also have a slightly severe aversion to public gyms, on account of the sweat, germs and general uncleanliness of the mass population. Take people's hand-washing habits, for example. The spread of fec-"
"I get it! I get it!" she shuddered, halting me with her hands. I shook my head at myself, cursing under my breath for letting my mouth run off. Again.
"Hey," she said softly, tugging gently at my shirt until I looked up. "I'm glad it's not a motorcycle. They scare the shit out of me. Cycling's great. I did it in college. Maybe we'll get my old Huffy out of storage and go on a bike ride together sometime soon, ok?"
I nodded, trying to tamp down the feelings of anxiety and inadequacy bubbling up inside. My rants didn't even seem to faze her, and I wondered how long that would last. Neuroses had a tendency of losing its novelty fairly quickly. But she hadn't run away yet, so I had to focus on that and enjoy it while it lasted. I also needed to stop thinking about public bathrooms, because they were seriously a distressing thought to me. Swarming with staphylococc-
"Edward."
"Right. Okay. Meet you in fifteen minutes."
She smiled at me then, and I couldn't resist stealing a kiss before I stole out of her office and into mine, where I proceeded to sit down at my desk and stare at my watch to count down the seconds.
. . . . .
I slid into the passenger's side of her Prius, cursing under my breath as my knees banged against the dashboard.
"Sorry," Bella giggled, which was a new sound I'd never had the privilege to hear before, and it almost made the soon-to-be-bruise worth it. Almost. I might have chipped my knee cap. "I should have warned you. The last person in my car was my mom, and she's even shorter than I am. Are you okay?"
I nodded, rubbing my knees as I pushed the seat back. The nerves started to come back, but I rubbed my palms against my slacks and focused on my breathing.
"So, whe-EH-re to?" Of course my voice cracked. Because I'm not really twenty-nine, but thirteen, apparently. And because she's a saint, she didn't even blink.
"I think there's a nice place just down the street. I overheard Jessica Stanley talking about it with one of the temps awhile back."
I wondered briefly whether Ms. Stanley frequented it with Michael Newton or Tyler Crowley. Dear God, what if she went there with both of them? I was fairly certain from what I had overheard by the Mr. Coffee that Newton was unaware of Crowley, but that didn't seem destined to last for long. At some point, Ms. Stanley was bound to confuse her days and lovers. She was exceptionally stupid. And the temps didn't hold back from their gossip, regardless of who was in the lounge. Then again, even if he overheard, he might not understand it. Michael Newton was rather exceptionally stupid as well.
And then I wondered if Ms. Stanley had some sort of frequent patron card for the hotel. Did they make such a thing for afternoon romps? What they must think of her, checking in for a couple of hours every day with alternating men. Dear God, what were they going to think of us? Of Bella? We were pulling into a hotel, and it wasn't even lunch time yet. They would know we were renting a room for sexual purposes!
As she parked, I placed my hand over hers on the gear shift.
"Bella, what if this isn't such a good idea. I've just realized that the hotel staff will likely be able to ascertain our reasons for checking-in in the middle of the day and-"
"And what are those reasons?" she smirked.
I gaped. Turned red. Pulled at the collar of my Rorshach shirt.
"Um, well…I mean, I thought…well, I guess…it seemed you were alluding to further fornic-"
"Edward, can I ask what you think of me? After what happened in my office?"
"I don't understand your question. I made what I think of you quite clear when I had a breakdown in the hallway."
She smiled. "I mean, do you think less of me because of what happened after your confession? I don't think it counts as a breakdown if you don't go on a killing spree."
"You're confusing me with James Hunter. Just because I didn't pick people off with a deer rifle from atop a water tower doesn't mean it wasn't a breakdown. But of course I don't think any less of you! Why…how could you ask me…that's just…ridiculous!"
She nodded, turning the ignition off. "And yours is the only opinion that matters to me. But if you really want to know what I think the hotel people will think, I think they will see two people checking into a room. For all they know we're celebrating our tenth anniversary, but even if they're as catty as the temps and think we're having some sort of clandestine rendezvous, it's really not their business. We're grownups. If we want to have middle-of-the-day crazy hotel sex, then we can."
"I won't ever be winning any arguments against you, will I?"
"Not if I have any say in it, which I always do. Let's go!" she grinned, opening her door as I did the same.
We walked together through the entrance of the hotel, hand-in-hand, and I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw the concierge greet us with a non-judgmental, welcoming smile, although the décor struck me as slightly odd. The only two colors were red and pink, and hearts of all sizes were everywhere.
"Welcome to the Hotel d'Amor. How can I help you today?"
"A suite if you have it, please?" Bella answered sweetly.
"We do. All of our suites are non-smoking…" the concierge continued to describe the hotel and accommodations available, and I tuned him out as I retrieved my wallet to pull out my credit card. Bella wasn't really listening to him either, because she was too focused on my attempts to hand the man my card. For some strange reason, she was trying to argue something about splitting the cost, but I pretended to go temporarily deaf as I handed the smiling man my card. I might not be able to win an argument of words, but I did have one advantage. I'm a solid foot taller than she is, and she can't pay if I'm holding her purse over my head.
"How happy the two of you are. You know what? Let me see something here, just one moment…Yes, it is available. Upgraded to our deluxe suite, compliments of the Hotel d'Amor. Only the best for young love," the concierge chuckled as he handed me back my card and the hotel key which, of course, had a large red heart printed on the front. I lowered Bella's purse and she snatched it away, trying to glare at me but failing as she heard the man's comment.
"Thank you," she smiled reluctantly. We walked together to the elevator just as the light stopped at one. The light was a pink heart. The doors opened, and out stumbled a disheveled-looking pair of familiar faces. Bella grabbed me suddenly so my back was to them, pulling me down for a deep kiss. Ms. Stanley and today's partner, Tyler Crowley, wandered obliviously past us, giggling and pawing at each other.
"Coast is clear," Bella laughed breathlessly, pushing me backwards into the elevator before the doors could close. "That was close."
"We will be a secret?" I asked curiously, because I was slightly confused. Perhaps she was embarrassed. Or maybe this wasn't as serious as I thought. I shouldn't have said anything about Bella-babies. Mentioning procreation before introducing yourself to a person isn't appropriate.
"Edward."
I shook myself out of my growing panic to focus on her again, and she was gazing back at me looking very serious.
"Whatever you're thinking, you're completely wrong. We're not going to be a secret, but I don't want to give the office an entire week to gossip about us if we're not even going to be there. But I'm damn sure proud you're finally mine, and I plan on showing you off and declaring you off Tanya's menu first thing Monday morning."
I smiled then. Proud. She was proud to have me. This might mean she was slightly imbalanced with such a skewed perception, but it tipped in my favor. I would take it.
"Quit thinking I'm crazy just because I want you," she demanded, dragging me out of the elevator as the doors opened onto the top floor.
Dear god, could she read my mind?
"I can tell by the look on your face. Now open up this door and show me how proud you are that I'm yours."
I would definitely never be winning an argument if she was some sort of telepath/empath. No matter. She wanted me to show her how proud I was for her to be mine? That, I needed no Xanax for.
. . . . .
"Oh…my…God," she panted, collapsing on top of me for the second time since we stormed into the room. Paying almost no mind to our surroundings, we started off against the wall by the door, finishing over a rather odd, red-velvet, S-shaped couch-thing. I bruised my chipped knee caps on the shower floor as I knelt before her, her returning the favor soon after as I held onto the bathroom counter for dear life, until we finally made our way to the bed, where she was currently riding me to exhaustion. Rolling us so I was on top, I began to thrust slowly as she shook her head back and forth. "I can't. Not again. It's too…oh my god, don't stop…too much…wait, more, faster."
I groaned, trying to give her what she wanted. Never was I more thankful for cycling than in that moment. Stamina has its uses. I pulled back slightly, angling my hips as I sped up and making her moans and words incoherent. As she came, she took me with her that time, and it took all my willpower to keep myself held up on shaking arms so I didn't crush her. Slowly, I pulled out and all but collapsed beside her, my arm wrapped around her. She curled into me with a little hum of satisfaction, still catching her breath.
Huh.
I didn't notice the mirror on the ceiling before. But the lighting was rather dim in here.
My heart was still pounding, and I was sweaty enough now to warrant another shower. Bella was as well, and it occurred to me that we might need to request a change of sheets if we were going to stay there the rest of the night. But then I realized we weren't currently on the sheets, but the dark red, velvet duvet and it also occurred to me that other people, namely Jessica Stanley and any number of other men, could also have been sweating on top of this very same duvet, as recently as just yesterday.
"Oh boy. What's wrong, Edward?"
"Wha-AH-t makes you think something's wrong?" I asked, my voice breaking again, and slightly high-pitched. Puberty chose an interesting time to make a reappearance.
She snorted, which was also a new sound that even she could make sound cute, and rested her chin on my chest.
"Because when you start getting worked up about something, your whole body tenses, your breathing becomes shallow, and your jaw makes this weird, clicking noise."
I sighed. "I was just thinking about the possibility of previous patrons' bodily fluids on the various surfaces inside our room."
She shook her head, giving me an indulgent smile. "Well then, it will please you to know that this hotel is known for its cleanliness rating. I heard the temp before Tanya raving about it."
"Really?" I asked, breathing a deep sigh of relief.
She nodded, laughing softly. "But what would you think about an extra bath, just in case?"
I smiled at her exaggerated eyebrow waggle, nodding in return. After I sat up and turned to help her off the bed, however, my eyes froze on the strangest thing I had ever seen in a hotel room, something I had definitely missed in our earlier sex haze.
"Bella?"
"Mmm?"
"Why is there a swing hanging from the ceiling?"
"Whaa?"
She sat up quickly and whirled around, and together we began to look at our suite for the first time.
Hanging from the ceiling and facing a mirrored wall was a large black swing with black loops dangling from the bottom. A few feet to the left of that was a raised platform with a shiny, silver pole running from floor to ceiling, a circular sofa set at the base of the platform. Along the wall across from our bed, there was the strange, S-shaped sofa we'd made use of earlier, which was in front of a media center, and just next to that was a mini-kitchenette. Kleenex boxes were stacked on the counter. As I completed the circle of our surroundings, I noticed for the first time the heart-shape of the Jacuzzi tub in the bathroom, which we'd bypassed for our shower earlier, the one with the massaging showerhead.
Dear God, I was in a penthouse suite sex-dungeon.
"Jessica Stanley is a freak," she remarked blandly. I resisted the urge to run for the door.
"Bella?"
"Hmm?" She sounded somewhat dazed.
"About that bath?"
"Yeah," she nodded, rising from the bed and taking me by the hand to the bathroom. With relief, I saw that the Jacuzzi was empty, definitely smelling of bleach and whatever fragrance they'd added to attempt and cover the bleach smell. Fumbling with a few buttons, the heart-shaped tub quickly began to fill. I grabbed two plush robes off the hooks on the bathroom wall, wrapping one around her before doing the same for myself. They smelled strongly of detergent, and cleaning supplies were quickly becoming a new favorite scent of mine.
She smiled up at me in thanks, giving me a sweet kiss. "How do you feel about twenty questions?"
"Twenty questions about what?"
"Us, of course," she laughed, rolling her eyes. "We could use a break before the next round, and, frankly, I'm still in a little bit of shock about the swing and stripper pole. What do you say?"
I smiled back, helping her into the tub. "I say good."
Oh, I was so wrong.
It started off simple. Deceptively simple.
Easy:
Where did you grow up? (Alaska/Arizona)
How many siblings do you have? (One/None)
Moving into dangerous territory, but stupidly continuing unaware, as I am unpracticed in the art of womanly witchcraft:
How long ago was your last relationship/how long did it last? (Over two years-lasted until she met a stockbroker/A year and a half ago-lasted until he asked her to dye her hair blond and get breast implants[insanity!])
Are we exclusive? (Of course!/Yes)
The danger zone, where red lights should flash and sirens should begin to wail:
How old are you? (29-and here was where I don't think I was supposed to ask back)
How old do you think I am?
A smart man would have changed the subject, or guessed an obscenely low and unrealistically flattering number, just shy of illegal. 19. Given that she had a bachelor's degree, maybe 22, MAX. But what did I do? I assessed her dark brown hair for grays, examined her face for signs of laugh lines or crow's feet, obliviously missed her frown as I recollected the softness of her skin and the fullness and perkiness of her breasts (implants? The man must have been a Neanderthal), and guessed that she was my age. 29.
I was so, so wrong.
"You think I look 29?" she asked back incredulously and her tone shrill.
Well, not now, I didn't.
"My favorite book is 1984!" I blurted out loudly. "What's yo-OU-rs?"
Damn voice crack.
"29? You think I look almost 30!"
I frowned. "Well, I'm almost 30. What's so bad about that?"
She scoffed. "For you, nothing. You're a man. You don't get old, you get distinguished. I, on the other hand, get a gray hair and I'm expected to dye it immediately. If I can't fit into my jeans from college, I must have let myself go. If I pass 30 and I'm not married or engaged and working on my first baby, I'm a failure."
"I don't think you're a fa-"
"Maybe I don't want to get married yet. Maybe babies remind me of Stewie from the Family Guy. I'm not ready for a demon baby. I like working. I like running. I like vacations. I don't want to give that up yet. And screw those jeans anyway! They were really from high school, and who the fuck still wants to wear acid-wash anymore?"
I stared openly at her, wondering if I was supposed to respond yet. Either she was premenstrual, or she had some small neuroses of her own. That would be great, actually. Even footing, if you will.
"I'm sorry," she frowned. "I went to my high school reunion last weekend. Stupid ex-cheerleaders with their stupid maternity clothes and stupid diamond rings."
With great strength, I resisted the urge to smile.
She looked at me with wide eyes. "I just ruined the game, didn't I?"
Sensing it was safe to speak now, I shook my head. "No. You sounded like me for a minute, and it actually felt good to hear. I still think you're perfect, though. And I learned way more about you than just your age, which doesn't matter to me anyway. But final guess? 26."
She shook her head, smiling bashfully. "28. You were only off by a year. But it's an important difference."
I laughed, pulling her toward me and wrapping my arms around her as the water sloshed in the tub.
"So are we actually going to stay here for the rest of the day?" I asked quietly.
She chuckled softly, shrugging her shoulders. "Why not? We're already here. It's our first adventure. A staycation. Oh, but you are going to have to feed me at some point. I get crabby when I don't eat. I wonder if all their food here is heart-shaped?"
Smiling, I dropped a kiss on her shoulder. "For now, more questions?"
"Yes, I'll try the swing, no to the pole."
I snorted, tightening my arms around her. "I meant the game?"
"Great Expectations."
"Of what?"
She laughed. "My favorite book. Yours is 1984, and mine is Great Expectations. I love the movie, too."
"Well, I know it might not mean much coming from a guy who wears elbow patches on his jackets, but I happen to think acid-wash is hideous."
She sat up and turned around, smiling widely.
"Thank you."
E/N: Alright, so you all know from my last A/N everything that's going on with me, so even if this does turn into a short (read:SHORT) story, updates won't be like they were with TINML or RM. Just sort of when I can. Anyway, two quick things:
I'm doing another fundraiser, this time for Texas Wildfire Relief. I live in Texas, and it's actually been really, really bad this year. So if you're interested, I'm contributing a futuretake from TINML to their compilation up for grabs. More info at:
http : / texasfires . ysar . info/
Just remove the unnecessary spaces.
Also, I'm officially signed up for the Twi-fic meetup in June in Vegas! More info at:
http : / twificmeetup . blogspot . com/
Also on twitter under twificmeetup. Harass aleighy for more details. But you can't have her for your betta. She's mine, I found her first.