A/N: ::climbs out of hole::
Heeeey, so remember that time that I gave you the extra long chapter because you had to wait forever for an update? Yeah, this is one of those times. I'm so, so sorry for the unannounced hiatus. There are mountains of excuses like finishing up the semester, RL drama, and various other shit... but who cares? You'd rather get to the chapter, right?
To the betafish Miss Lexiecullen17, dear God woman, thank you. This chapter was an epic disaster as I transitioned from stats analysis work to fic again. Any mistakes left behind are my own damn fault. She's the driving force behind the ::cough:: detail ::cough:: in this chapter.
Yoga, my love, thank you for being so patient. Really. You have no idea. Oh, and I'm sorry ahead of time. Have fun with the next chapter... ::epic snort::
Readers, thank you for your continued patience. Here's the longest chapter yet for your troubles. Hackerward has missed you.
Disclaimer: I really don't fucking own Twilight.
TAKE IT AWAY, HACKERWARD!
"Misfeature"
The walk back from the park to my apartment was quiet, and I kept my head down the entire time. When Emmett and I had reached the lobby, I awkwardly fished out my keys from inside my pocket while balancing my laptop in the other hand.
"Don't you have a home you can run off to? I'd really like to, you know, be alone for awhile," I said quietly, my eyes trained on my front door. "Really, Emmett. I just...can't be social right now."
"That's exactly why I'm here, bro. I'm not letting you pull this emo shit. What're you gonna do, sit in the fucking dark and cry because of whatever happened back there? I'm not standing around while you audition for some new Discovery Channel special called 'Sexual Reconstruction Surgery: The Before and After,' if I can help it. So, put down the vag miracle-grow, and cheer up. It couldn't have been that bad."
"And that's where you're wrong, Em," I said with a groan as I opened the door and dragged myself into the apartment. Tossing my keys on the kitchen table with my laptop, I scrubbed my face with two hands before speaking again. "It really was that bad. You have no idea."
Walking past Emmett, I plopped down on the couch and threw my head back to stare at the ceiling. There were two distinct water stains breaking up the eggshell, or cream, or oatmeal, or linen, or alabaster, or any other fancy fucking name for bright-as-shit white paint that had covered the plaster overhead. I must have been looking at the spots for too long; blobs of plain old shit-brown turned into what vaguely resembled an ambulance and the crude outline of a basketball.
Even the ceiling mocked me.
I threw my arms over my eyes, and a pained half-laugh, half-whimper left my lips before I mumbled, "Fuck the entirety of my life."
"What was that?" Emmett laughed from inside the kitchen, and I heard the refrigerator door open, along with the sounds of objects being placed on the counter.
Emmett must have been hunting.
"Nothing," I sighed, drowning in my newfound role as Captain of the S.S. Failboat.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you were suddenly going to acknowledge that you were cockblocked by sporting goods and an ex-boyfriend all in the course of one forty-five minute time span."
"I hate you."
"Alright, well, while you're busy channeling your displaced anger, I'm going outside to make a phone call. You'd better have your shit sorted out by the time I come back in," he said sternly, walking up behind me and ruffling my hair.
"Going to call Dr. Phil for more bullshit psychological advice on the situation?" I asked while pushing his hand away.
"No, you dick. I'm calling the HR people from 'Intervention.' Maybe they have a slot open for your socially inept ass," he quipped as he opened the door of the apartment. "Oh, and your girl's blonde friend? Rosalie?"
"What about her?"
"I asked her out while you were busy in the ambulance. We've got a date next week. Just thought you should know."
The expression on my face must have mirrored that of the owl in the Tootsie Pop commercials as my eyes went wide with shock, and my mouth formed an "O" in disbelief.
"So, let me get this straight," I started, turning away from him and tilting my head back to look at the ceiling. "Her best friend was just whisked away, unconscious, into an ambulance by a guy belonging in the Museum of Natural History's display of the First Thanksgiving, and you decided this was the proper time to ask for her number? Really, Em? Are you fucking kidding me?"
His eyebrows mashed together in confusion like two caterpillars fighting over a leaf. "You really think he's Native American? I was thinking more Hispanic. His coloring was very Chilean, but he seemed too tall. Maybe he's Brazilian?"
I rolled my eyes dramatically in his direction. "Now you want to focus on her ex-boyfriend? You're the worst wingman ever. How many times have I've been your wingman, Em?"
"That would be none. To be a wingman, you need game."
"I have game," I said defensively, and crossed my arms over my chest.
"I'm not talking about Dungeons and Dragons, bro."
We were silent for a minute, both of us staying completely still until I let out a deep sigh. He was right – "game" was not a skill I possessed when it came to the ladies.
"Alright, point taken. Go make your phone call, then come back and school me with your wise knowledge, oh guru of all things cock and pussy." I encouraged him out with an exaggerated bow.
As soon as the door had clicked shut, I jumped off the couch and ran out of the room, anxious to get onto my main computers and check on Isabella.
Roommates were for people that had a tolerance for other humans – a trait I didn't possess - so I had turned the second bedroom into an office/playroom for me and Linux to share. Her side of the room was covered in kitty jungle gyms, toys, a castle-shaped litter box that all but wiped her ass for her, and a shitload of catnip in tightly closed containers. At least, I had thought they were tightly closed. The scattered flecks of green leaves all over the floor told me otherwise.
"Lin? What're you doing?"
Yes, I talk to my cat – Fuck off.
She just looked at me while licking one of her paws, and a torn-open bag of treats lay empty at her side. The smug look on her face screamed, "That's right fucker, I get what I want."
And she always did.
Always.
Stepping over her completely stoned ass, I walked to my computers and booted everything; I was a man on a mission. It only took a few minutes to access the ambulance dispatch system, and I quickly found the call to Central Park where Isabella had been picked up, along with the name of the hospital she had been taken to. I saw that Ambulance 314D had been dispatched on another call over twenty minutes earlier, so I knew that Isabella would be sans Jake at that point. My phone was in my hand which was dialing the hospital before I knew what I was doing.
"Mount Sinai Medical Center, how may I direct your call?" a soft voice asked from the other side of the line.
"Hi, um, I, uh, well..." I stammered. I heard the door of my apartment open in the background, signaling my need to speak quickly. "I'm looking to check on a patient, actually."
"Name?"
"Isabella Swan."
"Relation to the patient?"
I panicked. Clearly, I hadn't thought this particular plan through very well. In fact, I hadn't thought about it much at all. I answered in a rush, "Her brother."
"Can you verify the patient's date of birth, please?"
Jesus fucking Christ, you'd have thought I was giving authorization to pull the fucking plug on her life support with the amount of questions they asked. "I'm sorry, can you repeat the question?" I stalled while bringing up Isabella's information from the DMV.
I'm really not a stalker, I swear.
"Her date of birth, sir."
"September 13th, 1986."
"Okay sir, she's in the ER right now, would you like me to transfer you over?"
"Yes please."
"One moment," she said, and the craptastic hold music blared through the speaker. Unfortunately, my luck with the whole situation was about to run out.
Just as a voice came through my phone once more, signaling the successful transfer from the switchboard, Emmett's obnoxious words came through louder than ever.
"Now that is one blissed-out fucking pussy. Good to know you can keep this one happy, Edward."
I gulped, slamming my forehead on the desk in front of me. "Hello?" I asked warily, trying to see if the ER had dropped my call due to lewd commentary.
"Uh, yes?" a small voice croaked. Fuck, they'd heard it.
"Yeah, um, I'm calling to check on Isabella Swan?" The clicking of keys in the background led me to believe that I'd have to play twenty fucking questions with this person too. "I'm her brother, and her birthday is September 13th, 1986. I can give you any other information you need if you want," I said quietly, knowing that Emmett could hear every word. It didn't take long for him to respond, either.
"Oh you've got to be kidding me!" he shouted, and I glared at him. "Do you know her favorite fucking color too, Edward?"
"Shut the fuck up, Em!" I whisper-yelled back with my hand over the receiver. "I'm just making sure she's okay."
"She's fine, bro. She's in a fucking hospital. How could she be anything but okay if she's in the fucking hospital?"
He had a point.
"Um, sir?" my phone spoke again. "I'm sorry, but Isabella is speaking with the doctor right now. Could you call back?"
"Yeah, um, okay. Sure."
I hung up the phone, then quickly got up from my chair and punched Emmett in the shoulder. He didn't even flinch, and my hand stung like shit.
God, I'm a fucking wimp. Hi, I'd like to order the "noodles for arms," with a side of "couldn't fend off a fruit fly, please?"
I briefly pondered if the Girl Scouts taught self-defense. Door to door sales were no fucking joke.
I could take 'em.
"Why do you even bother?" Emmett asked as he pointed to his shoulder.
"Fuck you, I tried. More importantly, you're a douche. You couldn't have stayed quiet for two fucking minutes?"
"Oh, why? So you could stalk your chick in private? No can do, bro. This shit is getting out of hand. And her brother? What would you have said if she fucking picked up? Listen, I'mma get some food for us. Go...I don't know, take a shower or some shit. And absolutely no going on the computer, okay? Just...fucking behave," he chided.
"This isn't some inbred hick-flick, A-hole. I know we came from the same uterus. I'm twenty-five years old, Em. I don't need a parent."
He mumbled something unintelligible under his breath before walking out into the living room with me following behind. I had wanted to make sure that he actually left the apartment before I could attempt to hack into the hospital mainframe to check on Isabella.
"Dude, I'm going now, but, please, no more fucking looking into her background."
"I won't." I already knew everything.
"And don't you go calling the hospital again."
"I won't." Not as me, anyway.
"And absolutely no accessing her hospital records."
I was silent.
Emmett raised his eyebrows, then walked over to the counter to grab a piece of paper and a pen. After he scribbled something down, I leaned over to read the words he'd written.
Emmett was a fucking douche.
I, Edward Cullen, will NOT do anything related to Isabella Swan on the computer while Emmett Cullen is not within five feet of my presence today.
"Sign this," he said as he handed me the pen.
As I signed the stupid piece of paper and dated that shit so he couldn't ever try and use it again, only one thing was running through my mind.
God bless the motherfucking iPhone.
X – X – X
Emmett had walked out of the apartment not even twenty minutes earlier, and I'd already set up my twitter account to send me a text should Isabella decide to tweet anything. Something she hadn't done since before the whole basketball, head injury, and constant erection fiasco of this afternoon. Since I hadn't heard anything through mass communication, and access to her hospital records had been cut off by some shit excuse for a binding document, Twitter was the only thing I could rely on for information.
Well, not the only thing.
I could always call the hospital again.
And call I did.
Only this time, I 411'ed that shit and dialed the ER directly. See, I learned.
"Hello, I called earlier to try and reach Isabella Swan, but she was meeting with a doctor, and I was told to call back, so I am. Calling back, that is. And this is, uh, well this is her brother, and her birthday is September thirteenth, 1986."
Shit, with how many times I'd repeated her goddamn birthday today, it was going to become as obvious as the date for fucking Valentine's Day or some shit. Then again, Isabella's birthday was one of those days that should be fucking celebrated; I wanted to send her parents a card for having sex and creating such a magnificent creature.
That was a mistake. My dick was harder than ever – Thinking about the gloriousness that was Isabella's rocking body and sexy as shit voice asking me to lay down with her...Fuck. I needed to stop thinking.
"Alright, sir. Hold one moment, please," the voice on the other end said, and I spun around on my computer chair. My feet slapped the floor with a start, and I shot up.
How could I justify talking to Isabella on the phone? It's not like I had had a conversation with her while she was coherent, and the last time we spoke, I'd all but slapped her in the face with my dick.
Fuck, there I was, thinking about my cock and Isabella in the same sentence again.
"Okay, sir?"
"Yes?"
"Isabella has visitors right now, but I'll transfer you up to her room anyway. Hold please."
Transfer?
TRANSFER?
Fuck. What was I going to say? "Oh hello Isabella, this is Edward, you don't know me, like at all, but I'm the guy that almost assaulted you with my penis the last time we spoke. Remember? You asked me to lay down with you in the ambulance? Yeah, well, I just wanted to make sure that you were okay and that your brain injury didn't cause you to hump your ex-boyfriend because I think you're awesome, and I've never stalked anyone quite like you before. Oh, and I promise it's not as bad as it sounds."
Yeah, that would go over well.
Before the line could start ringing in Isabella's room, I hung up and placed my phone down on the desk.
"Why? Why can't I just be fucking normal for once?" I whined into the open air.
Linux meowed in the background.
"Don't agree with me, Lin. Wouldn't you want a nice girl around here?"
She meowed again, followed by an angry hiss.
"You'll always be my girl," I said, getting up to pet her, but my little – well, not so little – problem reared its head in my boxer briefs.
Yes, I wear boxer briefs. You try walking around with visions of Isabella in your head without a little confinement. That shit's impossible.
Upon walking, not even Calvin Klein could keep my dick from straining against the rough denim of my jeans, and I hissed loudly from the contact.
Yeah, I have to do something about that.
Looking at the clock on my phone, I saw that I still had time before Captain Jackass made his grand and unwelcome appearance back at my apartment. I only had so long to...relieve a little pressure without judgment from the asshole brigade.
Well, I had almost made it without judgment. Linux stared at me as I was leaving the room...like she knew what I was about to do, but I knew better than to try and jerk it with her around.
Learned that shit the hard way.
"Don't look at me like that," I spoke directly to her judgmental furball ass, and yet my mind was elsewhere. Like what it would have been like to actually snuggle with Isabella on a hospital stretcher.
Yes, you assholes, I said snuggle. I had a fucking heart.
And yes, I knew it was pathetic to maintain a fucking hard-on with thoughts of over-the-clothes cuddles in a tiny ass cot.
I'm a goddamn delicate flower.
And no, there wasn't a hidden agenda. I was worried about her, and my heart smashed in my chest like one of those unfortunate crash test dummies hitting a brick wall doing 120mph in a Volvo commercial. Now, regardless of those being some safe fucking vehicles – yeah, I read Consumer Reports – I still imagined that it was anything but a pleasant feeling. Much like the hole punched through my fucking sternum at the thought that the girl I actually wanted to date being in the damn hospital because of my shithead brother.
And a basketball.
Aaand, there goes the erection.
I reached down and checked to see if my dick hadn't shriveled up and turned into a vagina. Fucking feelings.
Yep, it was still there.
And I was going to use it.
Take that, Emmett.
And Jake.
And for the love of all that is fucking holy...Isabella.
I really wanted her to take it.
Not like...I mean... I meant it as...Ugh, fuck it.
The erection was back, and I was alone.
In true MC Hammer style, I shuffled my feet toward my shower, eager to fill my head with steam – and of course, thoughts about what should have happened in the ambulance.
I thanked God that I was alone because as the bathroom door shut behind me, I sang out, "Alright, stop! It's jerkin' time!" complete with the "morphin'" motions of the Power Rangers.
Yeah, that actually happened.
X-X-X
The water running down my back felt better than breaking the seal after five beers and a twenty minute line for the only bathroom at a shitty house party. Apparently, I was stressed. I knew the whole situation with Isabella was an epic clusterfuck of crap.
While in school, I had been known for my ability to solve complex problems, and yet I understood that there weren't any algorithms or codes to get me into Isabella's pants. And, if I was being honest, it wasn't just her pants in which I wanted to gain access – seeing her lying on the ground in the park had proved that much. Anxious and scared that something might have actually happened to her, my mind went into overdrive when I had walked away after the great basketball fail. Even if the whole situation hadn't occurred, it's wasn't as if I had any clue as to how speak to her. To confess. I wanted more than just her body – her ridiculously hot, tight, delicious, fucking body. Thinking of her perfect ass, luscious sweater pillows, and absurdly pouty lips had my dick twitching like an addict in the evidence room in Downtown LA. But, even then, I was still only half-mast. It was like my body fucking knew that I had no chance with her.
I let out a weak chuckle as I looked down at my barely-conscious penis. Where the fuck was his excitement? There were probably only ten minutes before Emmett fucking came back, and my dick couldn't have been bothered to help me out?
"Well, fuck you too, then," I said, then slammed my forehead against the tiles of the shower. "Wow, Edward. You're talking to your dick. You are above and beyond the single most pathetic person on the planet."
Back to Isabella. There had been something between us – a moment - and in the ambulance, I had felt it. The sweet sound of her voice, even if it was spewing weird crap about hallucinations of fictional doctors, had crawled into my skull and set up shop like the phlegm in those Mucinex commercials.
What would have happened if her bastard of a cockblocking ex hadn't shown up?
With my imagination running wild, my thumb brushed the tattoo I'd gotten when I graduated MIT – "w3r3 411 m4d h3r3," written on my right hip, a tribute to my love for Lewis Carroll and the genius that was Alice in Wonderland. I wanted her to see it, for her to ask me what it meant; and if things had gone my way, she might have.
I would have crawled onto that tiny ass stretcher and draped my legs over hers. Carefully picking up her head, I'd have slid my arm underneath so she'd fit in that fucking spot between my shoulder and neck. And trust me, I'd stared at her long enough to do the calculations – she'd have fit perfectly in my arms.
Closing my eyes, I happily ignored that I was going to jerk it in the shower, alone, and I pretended I was really there with her.
She was the epitome of innocent and gorgeous. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," I whispered as I dragged my thumb over her soft lips. "I dream about kissing you."
Isabella's eyes darted back and forth between my own, then down to my lips, and I knew she wanted me to kiss her. Pressing my lips against hers, I moved our mouths together with ease; she felt so right. Her mouth latched onto my top lip, subtly forcing her bottom one into my mouth, and I caught it, squeezing the flesh lightly with my own. I wanted to feel more, so I dragged my tongue along her bottom lip before taking it between my teeth. She tasted like girl, a flavor I couldn't remember because it had been so long, but it was probably something like fruit and sunshine and alcohol. Seductively addictive. I pushed my lips harder into hers, hoping that she'd let me stick my tongue in her mouth. But, not gross kissing like you see in porn but like nice, classy sex scenes with fancy sheet drape-age and subtle movements under the blanket.
Isabella opened her mouth slightly, seemingly reading my thoughts, allowing my tongue to slip in her mouth and touch hers.
Fuck, even thinking about it, I couldn't stop the moan from escaping, betraying that I was actually alone in the fucking shower, and not where I desired most.
Back to the fucking fantasy, idiot. God, you can even ruin your own imagination.
I curled the arm I had beneath her head, pulling her face closer to mine as my tongue danced with hers. My free hand stayed at my side, clutched in a fist until she grabbed it in her own and drew it around her neck. She gave me her lower lip once more, and I gently coaxed the soft flesh into my mouth to nibble on the surface. I felt the vibrations of her moan against my skin, and I whimpered but increased the pressure of my teeth and tongue on her lip, attempting to draw out the sound. Her mouth broke away from mine with a soft cry, and I moved my hand from around her neck to cup her cheek, my thumb stroking the flushed skin.
"I wish I could kiss you forever," I said quietly, and it was true. As I opened my eyes, the only thing running through my mind were variations of "more" and" please."
Her eyes were heavy, and she looked like she hadn't slept for days but even with hooded eyes, they danced in excitement. A smile broke out across her face. Raising her hand, she wrapped her fingers around the back of my neck, pulling my face to hers once more, and captured my lips. The force of her hand and the feel of her tongue licking my lips caused me to moan, and she opened her mouth against mine. She stroked my tongue with hers, playfully teasing, while our mouths collided with heated passion.
Her hands dove into my hair, scratching my scalp, and I fucking purred like an idiot, but that shit felt good. My hands threaded into the shiny brown strands by the back of her neck, and I held her face to mine. She'd turned her body to face my own, and every inch of her was pressed against an inch of me. My body felt like it had been set on fire, and the hand in her hair tightened around the base of her skull before moving to explore the length of her body. She was all angles and lines, but the shape of her was so perfectly unique, geometry didn't have a name for it; she didn't need one – I would call it unnamed perfection.
My dick was harder than attempting to find the fucking God Particle, as I reached down to take it in my hand. Wrapping my fist around my base, I slowly slid my hand up the shaft to the head, holding it in my palm and squeezing slightly. A groan tore out of my mouth and echoed in the empty space in the shower. It left me feeling hollow, but I closed my eyes once more and drifted back to Isabella.
Placing my hand on her hip, I slowly drew a line down the outside of her thigh until I reached her knee and wrapped my fingers around it. I lifted her leg onto my torso, moving her until she was draped over my hip, and her soft body was against me. Running my hand from her knee to her thigh, I traced the muscles straining against her jeans, and I felt her moan into my mouth again. My voice matched hers in odd sounds of excitement, and the leg around my back tightened, urging me closer. Shifting my leg, I moved myself into the small space between her thighs, and she wiggled until my hard-on was against her stomach. I tore my mouth away from hers, whimpering her name around gasps for air. Feeling embarrassed about the sounds coming from my mouth, I pressed my lips to the soft skin of her neck and dropped kisses to the places I could reach. As I moved up the column of her neck, I dipped my tongue out of my mouth to taste her for the first time. She tasted like lust, like fucking happiness, and I couldn't get enough. My tongue traced circles and triangles and damn octagons along her skin. It was as if I I'd lost control of all motor function.
Wrapping my lips just below her ear, I sucked the flesh into my mouth, nipped at it, and then soothed the bites with my tongue. Her mouth was right next to my ear, blessing my senses with her shaky breaths and quiet mewls, and upon hearing hear moan, I shifted my hips into hers. I cried out, the pressure of denim against denim sending sparks from my dick to my toes, and my eyes squeezed shut.
"Does that feel good?" she asked, and I let out a pained chuckle.
"Yes," I answered, my voice strained. In my mind, I was the one to reassure her that what she did felt good to me. I wasn't fumbling or unsteady as I pressed my hips to hers once more.
Her arms went around my neck, pulling my face back to hers and capturing my lips with a feverish hunger.
Feverish hunger?
Whatever, just go with it.
I started moving my hand faster over my dick, long, fluid strokes over the hardened flesh as I imagined rocking myself in between Isabella's thighs.
"Oh, Edward. You feel so good," her voice was soft in my ear, and her tongue reached out to lick the shell before she pulled the cartilage into her mouth.
"Mmm, Isabella," I moaned, then ran my hand along her arm.
Kissing her again, I twisted Isabella onto her back and moved to cover her body with my own. Her thighs wrapped around my waist, pulling my hips flush against hers, and I gladly settled myself against her clothed girl parts. I filled the previously empty space with my ridiculously hard dick, and I groaned as I pressed myself to her, pushing in between her legs several times. Shamelessly rubbing myself on her, I cried out her name continuously, and she reached up, latching her arms around my neck. I leaned down, painting her neck with my tongue and lips before moving up to her ear.
"I'll lose myself in you, Isabella. You make me forget, help me remember, and I can't stop," I whispered. "But even if I could stop, I don't want to. I only want you. Always. Just. Like. This." Each word was echoed with a nudge of my hips in between her legs.
"Don't stop," she cried, and I sped up.
My hand worked myself faster, and I envisioned pushing my hips into hers, my hard against her soft.
The rough denim of my jeans rubbed along the sensitive skin shielded within the cotton of my boxer briefs. Her legs opened wider, allowing me to move over her, closer than before and yet, still not close enough. I braced myself on my knees, rocking gently back and forth over her clothed sex, listening to her soft mewls in my ear.
Water flowed down my stomach, helping my hand slide over my dick, and I started breathing heavier. Nearly panting, I bit my lip to keep from crying out, but even still, it wasn't enough. I needed more. I needed to feel her.
Lowering myself to one of my elbows, I ran my hand along her collarbone, down over her boobs, and pushed underneath her shirt to stroke the soft skin of her stomach. One of her hands grabbed my wrist and pulled it upwards, the movement causing me to slip beneath her bra and onto the silky expanse of her naked tit. I squeezed it, running my fingers over her hardened nipple, and I covered my mouth with hers. Feeling her moan against my lips, I opened my mouth to stroke her tongue with mine.
My hand moved faster still, holding myself tighter, and I felt my hips rocking back and forth, mimicking the scene behind my closed eyes. With every pass up my shaft, I turned my wrist, my thumb and index finger massaging the skin underneath the head in practiced effort. Even with the water constantly running over me, I felt pre-cum leak out of the slit, and my eyes rolled back when I rubbed it into the head with my thumb.
"Fuck," I mumbled, the muscles in my forearm straining with the repetitive up down motions as I worked myself over.
Isabella's hands scratched down my back and into my pockets, her fingers digging into the denim over my ass and pulling me tighter against her. Our hips crashed together in a perfect rhythm, hers meeting mine in a frantic race towards release. My fingers slid out from where I held her perfect tit and moved down her stomach to push on her clothed sex. With my hand aiding my hips with concentrated circles over her clit, I removed my mouth from hers to gaze at her face and watch as she whimpered.
"Look at me, Isabella," I pleaded, wanting nothing more than to watch her face as she came. "Are you close?"
It was pathetic, but I knew that even in fantasy, I had no clue what I was doing.
"Yes, so close," she answered.
Since it was my fucking imagination, I could pretend I was the fucking man like that.
The spark in my stomach was approaching critical mass, and I knew that I would be coming in a matter of moments, so I roughly fisted my dick, focusing on the sensitive skin beneath the head. Placing one of my hands against the wall, I leaned forward, allowing my hips to pump furiously, and water fell over my lips as I moaned loudly.
My cock nestled perfectly along her sex, the tip of my dick on top of her clit as I pushed back and forth. The stretcher groaned with the repeated shifting of our bodies upon it, and I couldn't give a shit and half if anyone caught us. My chin fell against my chest, but I raised my eyes while my hand went into her hair so I could lock our gaze. I wanted to watch her fall apart, to come undone below me and know that only I had made her feel that way.
And with one final push of my hips, her eyes slammed shut as she cried out my name into the air between us. Not one thought about how she knew it or how unbelievably fucked up the whole situation was - like why I was dry-humping Isabella during a possible concussion - crossed my mind, as I was too far gone.
With several short strokes along my dick, fireworks exploded behind my closed eyes, brighter than Macy's could have ever dreamed of doing on the fourth of July.
"Isabella!" I shouted, and my cries bounced off the tiles as I worked myself through my fucktastic release.
My heart was still pounding in my ears when I recognized several things once. One, my phone's distinct alert tone, signaling Isabella had tweeted. Two, the water in my shower was awfully cold. And three... the unmistakable laugher and voice of my father.
"Emmett! You owe me twenty bucks!" I heard him call out. "I told you I'd find out her name before he got out of the bathroom."
Seriously, I needed to find out who's Cheerios I had fucking peed in to deserve the fucking day I'd had.
And as if shit couldn't have possibly gotten any fucking worse, I'd nearly cried when I read what Isabella had tweeted.
NoSleepTill718: Waiting on a hot murse to give me my sponge bath.
No, really, it was fine. There wasn't any cause for concern when I considered searching for Dr. Kevorkian's fucking replacement to ease the pain.
Permanently.
Wouldn't you have done the same thing if your father interrupted you masturbating about the girl you'll never get? Or how about if that happens after your brother sent her to the fucking emergency room? Now, imagine finding out that she's waiting for some guy to rub a damn cast member of Finding fucking Nemo against her perfect skin.
Yeah. I know.
Pity, party of one?
So, I handled the situation in a very adult, calm, and mature manner.
...If I were an eleven-year-old girl in middle school.
I tweeted back. Not directly to her, since that would have taken balls, and, clearly, I didn't have those.
JavaTheHuttt: Hot Murse? Men look stupid in colorful scrubs with smiley faces.
Take THAT!
The statement probably would have had more of an impact if I had told her she had cooties, too.
You know, since I'm trying to insult a bully for stealing my lunch money. Or a male nurse for stealing my pussy. Same difference.
"Edward!" my father yelled. "Don't masturbate in repeated intervals! You'll chafe the skin!"
I really, really fucking hate my life.
X-X-X
"Emmett!" I yelled, walking out of the bedroom in only a pair of jeans and holding my shirt in my hands. "Why is Shlongmaster Sex here?"
"Edward," my father chastised, shirtless, from the couch in my living room. "I'm your father. A little respect please."
As I walked into the room completely, I noticed that my father was not only sans shirt, he was sans everything.
Yep, my father was completely fucking naked and hanging out on my couch.
"Dad, could you put some clothes on? I moved out to get away from the nakedness. I require pants in my apartment," I said, looking over at my brother, who was standing in the kitchen with an amused grin on his face.
"Well, that would explain why you're engaging in masturbation then, wouldn't it? If you allowed people to remove clothing in your presence, you might actually get to enjoy the act of being naked with someone other than yourself," my father said softly.
I shook my head. "Wow, thanks Dad. That's exactly what I needed to hear today," I paused, trying to figure out which way to get my shirt on. "Wait, what are you doing here anyway?"
"Emmett called."
"I did, iffs twoo," Emmett chimed in around a mouthful of food.
"Why?"
He swallowed, then walked into the living room and took a seat on the only chair that was an acceptable distance away from my father's sack. "You need help, bro. I think that this whole thing with your girl..."
"...Isabella," my father interrupted, clearly pleased that he won whatever bet the two of them had made.
"Yeah, Isabella, is way out of control. You want her? You're gonna need all the help you can get."
I sighed. "I don't think I need..."
"Dude, you need it. Trust me. Let's start by getting your ass to a gym, man. You look like the skeleton that hangs in a science classroom."
"What?" I asked, looking down. "I have abs, Em. See? I can count them."
"Yes, but that's only attractive if you can't count your ribs as well. Anyway, first, let's get you to talk to her."
"I talk to her," I said defensively, then pulled my shirt over my head. "We do the whole Twitter thing."
"Twitter?" my father asked.
"Yeah, Twitter. It's this website where you write short messages to peop...you know what, it's just a thing that's too complicated for someone your age. Just, accept it."
Twitter was actually a sore subject at this point. The tweet that Isabella had sent was about some douchebag male nurse about to give her a sponge bath had stung. A lot. I was all for attentive staff looking after her, but that shit was just a bit too far. And she had called him hot.
Again, what the fuck had I done in a previous life? Was I the one piece of the iceberg responsible for sinking the fucking Titanic or something?
"Oh man," Emmett said, getting up from the couch and walking over to me. "I know that look. What happened? Did you talk to her?"
I shrugged, looking down at the floor, and not acknowledging anything. But, I should have known my non-answers wouldn't fly.
"Edward, tell us what happened so we can help you," my father encouraged while thankfully, still seated.
I'm going to have to get that couch fumigated.
Without a word, I pulled my phone from my pocket and showed the text to Emmett. He dragged me over to the chair he had just vacated and forced me to sit down with a hand on my shoulder, then went to get a stool from the breakfast bar.
"This is probably a joke, bro."
I just stared at him.
"What did it say?" my father asked and Emmett read the short message to him. "Ah, yes. Don't you see what she's doing? Edward, this girl is probably just trying to get a rise out of you. It's a commonly used social tool in order for a woman to judge whether or not a potential partner is interested. What you need to do now is tell me the entire story. Let me help you."
Honestly, I had nothing left to lose. Well, except for dignity, though I wasn't sure if I even had that to begin with. People with dignity, morals, and social skills didn't do I what I did. So, I told him the entire story from start to finish, leaving no detail unsaid. We even went as far as letting him read some of the tweets sent back and forth between me and Isabella.
All of the ones I didn't wanted him to know about.
Yeah, it wasn't pleasant.
My father crossed his legs, and I tried not to vomit. "I must say, Edward. I do believe she's interested. And you say that she asked you to 'lay down with her on the stretcher' while in the ambulance?"
I nodded.
"Well, I think the next step is to respond to the message directly. No beating around the bush - well, not if you want to gain access to the bush. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
I shuddered, disgusted that my father had referenced anything in regards to Isabella's girl parts. "Yes," I said quietly, though he didn't realize that I had already responded earlier, when I had read the message, in a completely passive aggressive manner.
Before anyone could speak, my phone chimed its telltale tone. I looked at it like it was the fucking answer to P versus NP or something.
"I'm guessing that's her," my father said, amused, and Emmett chuckled next to me.
"Yeah, it is."
The tweet was directly to me, calling me on my bullshit answer, and I smiled. Not just because she didn't tell me I was a fucking pansy, when she would have been completely justified, but because she thought I could pull off smiley faced scrubs. Isabella was adorable, fantastic, and all around wonderful, but it seemed that her sense of what fashion would work with my particular attributes was far off the mark. Though it did sound like she wanted me to give her the sponge bath. I asked the resident sexperts in the room, and they agreed.
Playful banter was something I would have normally enjoyed, but my main concern was how she was doing. I answered her question honestly. I mean, I did, in fact, own a sponge. When she wrote back, I saw that she was actually going to try and consume food from a hospital cafeteria.
Emmett was watching the exchange from over my shoulder and read everything to my father.
"This is your chance, Edward!" Emmett yelled, and I cringed, my ears ringing. "Sorry, but seriously!"
"He's right, Edward. Ask her what she wants to eat. You know, I wooed your mother through her love of food. Well, that and other things."
"Dad," I said, holding up my hand and channeling my inner Diana Ross. "I really don't want to know about you and Mom, okay? Trust me, I know more than enough about the two of you. And, could you please put some damn pants on?"
"Edward, just ask the girl what she wants to eat. I have a plan," my father said deviously.
Isabella and I went back and forth, and she told me of her desire for something called Five Guys, and Emmett was extremely excited about it. I didn't understand.
"Seriously, man. It's like a fucking orgasm on a bun. That shit is ridiculous," Emmett moaned and rubbed his stomach like fucking Buddha. My father laughed.
While the two of them were distracted, I was curious as to whether or not my father had been correct in assuming that the male nurse was just a ploy...so I asked.
I shouldn't have.
NoSleepTill718 (a)JavaTheHutt: Mmhmm. And now he's working his way up my thighs, water dripping from his sponge. Feels. So. Good.
My response was almost immediate, and I got up from the living room to walk away from the so-called experts. They were supposed to be helping me, not fueling my delusions about Isabella. But hearing this had hurt. Like the getting kicked in the balls, kinda hurt.
Walking into Linux's room, I sat down on the floor, and she curled in my lap. I had been so stupid. Honestly, I would have been better off investing in some mail order bride...at least then, she'd have to put up with me. Scratching Lin behind the ears with one hand, I quickly typed yet another passive aggressive update, and I paused before hitting the send button. Linux had other ideas though. She swatted the hand poised over the send button with her paw, effectively updating my status.
JavaTheHuttt: Is the way to a woman's heart through her stomach or underwater sea creature?
Even if Isabella wasn't interested in me, it was in some part my fault that she was in the hospital in the first place – the least I could have done was feed her.
I made the call.
"Hello, Five Guys, what can I get you?" the voice through the phone asked.
"Uh, hi. Well, um, do you guys deliver to hospitals?"
"Yeah, we do. Where's it going?"
I gave the guy the address, room number, and order along with my credit card information before hanging up, slightly disturbed that I was ordering carcass. But, I would have given Isabella the moon had she asked for it. Hell, she could have asked for broccoli from China and I'd probably be looking at flights right now.
A tweet had come in while I was on the phone, and I couldn't stop the slight chuckle that left my lips.
NoSleepTill718 (a)JavaTheHutt: Stomach. Definitely stomach. Although a miniature seahorse is a close second.
Standing up, I was about to make my way back into the living room, content that I could have at least made Isabella smile and less hungry, another message tone blared in the air.
NoSleepTill718 (a)JavaTheHutt: P.S. hi. My name is Bella and I like miniature sea creatures.
Bella.
Beautiful.
It was perfect, and I told her as much. The sea creatures line made me laugh, and I stupidly quoted one of the greatest fucking movies of all time, Finding Nemo.
Fuck you, I still watch Pixar films. That shit is genius. Oh, and way more amusing than real movies when you're high.
Apparently, she was being stalked by an evil nurse, and I was furious. How dare someone interrupt an actual fucking conversation? Well, not really an actual conversation, since you can't really do that in 140 characters...but still. It was fucking progress. But most importantly, she'd asked for my name.
JavaTheHuttt (a)NoSleepTill718: I'm Edward. Feel better, Bella.
"Whoa! What the fuck happened in the time you made with the emo time out, dude?" Emmett asked from the doorway.
"What're you talking about?"
"The fucking smile on your damn face, bro. What'd she do? Tell you she loved you or something?"
"No, nothing like that."
Without warning, Emmett stole my phone from my hand and ran into the living room.
"Give it back, Em!" I shouted, chasing him around the couch where my father was on the phone with whom I could only assume was my mother.
"Oh, my dearest, I love that trick you do with your tongue...Oh, Edward! You're back. Say hello to your mother."
"Hi, Mom," I said, unenthusiastically.
"Lover, darling, I must go. But, I'll be home soon. Be waiting for me...uh huh, yes...No, in the red one. I want to rip it off with my teeth...Okay, okay. Love you. Bye." My father closed the phone.
I didn't want to think about where he might have kept it.
"Edward, so, Dad and I were talking, and we think you should go see her," Emmett said.
"What? Are you crazy? No!" I shouted, walking into the kitchen and grabbing something to drink from the fridge.
"It's true, Edward. After everything you've told me, I think it's best you go and see her. And more importantly, you tell her everything. It's cruel to lead the girl on like this," my father added.
"But...no. Absolutely not. I'm not going to tell her! She's probably got a concussion! And, no. No. No."
"Get out," Emmett responded with a wave of his hand towards the door.
"Uh, fuck you. I live here. You get out."
"Just go, Edward. Trust me. It's a grand gesture. Women love that shit!" he exclaimed, grabbing me by the shoulders and leading me to the doorway. "Just, do it. Before you can think twice."
And with that, I was forced out of my own fucking apartment, my brother and my naked father still inside. The door opened seconds later, and my keys came flying at me.
Whatever happened to free will?
X – X – X
It appeared as if my luck had changed when I got to the lobby of the hospital. Well, almost. It had only taken three different cabs to get me there. Not because they hadn't known where they were going, but because my dumb, indecisive ass had gotten out twice with every intention of going back home. Until, of course, the texts started.
From: Emmett Cullen - Don't be a chicken shit.
From: Dad – Trust me.
From: Emmett Cullen – You're a fucking pussy.
From: Dad – It's only fair. Do the right thing. I raised you better than this.
From: Mom – I want grandchildren.
From: Dad – Your mother gets ahead of herself. Talk to the girl.
From: Emmett Cullen – Dude, I'm not popping out a fucking kid. That's your job.
From: Dad – Ignore your brother.
From: Mom – Edward, sex is healthy. You should enjoy it. I could find someone for you.
From: Dad – Your mother is serious Edward. She's calling around.
From: Mom – If this doesn't work, I found a girl named Helga. She's Alexis' daughter.
From: Emmett Cullen – Haha, Helga is a 350lb weightlifter with a mustache. Have fun.
Strangely enough, the second of three cab rides stopped on a corner where a vendor was selling necklaces on the street. At least it wasn't a fucking dude playing a banjo with two strings and no pants. Just as I was raising my hand to hail yet another cab home - or to someplace without fucking cell service - a small silver figurine leapt into view.
A motherfucking seahorse.
Yeah, if that wasn't a fucking sign...
I bought the necklace, my phone vibrating in my pocket nonstop, and I nearly offered it to the woman as payment.
Finally, I'd had enough, got into the final cab and sent one response.
To: Mom, Dad, Emmett Cullen: I'M GOING. PLEASE STOP NOW.
Somehow, I'd managed to catch the delivery guy at the front desk, and it took showing him both my license and credit card in order to get the damn food in my possession. Unfortunately, I'd done this all in front of the fucking security guard, who'd watched the entire exchange while laughing and clearly knew my last name wasn't Swan.
I was fucked.
"Hello, I'm assuming you're here to visit a patient?" he asked, still chuckling.
"Um, yeah. Yes. I mean, of course." I thought I was going to be sick. "Why else would I be here?"
Just fucking say you're her friend, dumbass. Then security can kick you out after she tries to kill you when you tell her everything.
"Name of the patient?"
"Bella, I mean, Isabella Swan," I said, my voice shaking with nerves. "Do you want to know her birthday too?"
"No, that's fine. I'm sorry, but only immediate family is allowed to visit right now, son. Visiting hours for that floor ended an hour ago."
"That's okay! I mean, I understand that but, uh, I am. You know, um, immediate family."
What the fuck are you doing?
His eyebrows raised as he smirked. "Oh yeah? How so?"
"Uh, huh. I'm...I'm her fiancé."
Wait...WHAT?
"Yeah?" he asked, and I wasn't sure if he had believed me. Fuck, I couldn't believe me.
"Sorry for being all weird about it. It's really new, and we haven't told anyone yet. And um, I wasn't sure about hospital policy. I mean, that counts, right? I managed to squeak out.
"Yeah, of course it counts. Let me just print out a badge with the proper identification and then you can head on up. Can I have your license?"
I gave him a weak smile. And my driver's license. And my validation ticket for the gates of Hell. "Thanks."
As soon as that piece of laminated plastic was clipped on to my shirt, I took off like Augustus towards the chocolate waterfall and never looked back.
X –X – X
"Hi, can I help you?" a somewhat bearded woman behind the nurses station asked.
"Yeah, um, I'm looking for Isabella Swan's room?"
"Fine. She's right there on the left. Room 587." She vaguely gestured in a direction, but I was too distracted by the flapping of her arm fat to notice. It was kind of like that guy with the wings from X-Men, only female. Though, the facial hair could have fooled me.
"Uh, thanks," I said, and I started walking, only to stop after three strides and head back to the desk. "Actually, do you think you could give this to her? I'm uh, just going to um, use the bathroom, I think."
Ladies and Gentlemen, this is what being a pussy looks like.
"Fine," she griped, grabbing the bag from my hands.
My fingers fiddled with the necklace in my pocket, and I tried to muster up the courage to go and speak to Bella, but I couldn't. With my heart in my throat, I retreated towards the elevators only to hear chicken-nurse speaking.
"Isabella? Your fiancé just dropped this off for you, and he'll be here in a second. He just went to use the bathroom or something."
I fucking froze like I'd been dropped in liquid nitrogen. Ripping the badge off my shirt, I looked down, only to see a sticker with the word "fiancé" on it.
Since when in the fucking had they implemented this particular system?
There were quiet sounds coming from Bella's room, but I couldn't make out what she was saying. I heard Nurse Fucked-It-All-Up, though. Loud and fucking clear.
"Yeah, your fiancé. Tall, reddish-brown hair, green eyes. You should know, you're the one marrying him."
My feet had never moved so fast.
As I approached the door to Isabella's room, the nurse turned and glared at me. She pointed her nasty finger in my face, then brushed by me with an exaggerated huff. I watched her go back to her nest - aka behind the desk - before I burst into Bella's room. She was even more beautiful than I remembered.
There was no controlling my mouth, and unfortunately, I failed. Badly. The United States had better pray that I would never be held hostage by an enemy nation.
We would have been fucked.
Just like I fucked myself upside down, sideways, and backwards when I opened my fucking mouth in Bella's hospital room.
"Listen Bella, I can explain. I swear. It really isn't as bad as it sounds. Well, actually, yeah. I mean, it kinda is. No. But there's a, um, a uh, completely logical explanation for why that just happened. I'm not crazy. It's just that I wanted to make sure that you were okay, and then you said that you were hungry. And you eat. Food. You know...hunger...when that happens. Since food is good. Well, I don't eat that stuff, but you do, and that's okay. Because, um, well, I uh, well I think you're wonderful. And I promise I can explain."
Feeling really fucking uncomfortable, I started pacing and took off my glasses so I couldn't see the look on her face when I confessed to being the biggest fucking asshole on the planet.
"You see, I know you. Well, not know you. But I know about you. It's kinda like my job, you see? And I guess, I made a huge mistake. I should have... Fuck."
I stopped pacing and pinched the bridge of my nose in one hand. Biting my lip for a moment, I twirled my glasses in my hands and stared at the floor.
"Let me just start from the beginning, okay? I just, well, so, you left me the note, but I didn't know what it said, and there was mail on the floor, and cabbage, and I got your address because that's what I do. Computers, I mean. It's just my thing. It's, um, well, a hobby...but not really. Now it's a job, well, not finding your address, but I did. Do that. For the mail. Then, I sent you that e-mail, but I wasn't thinking - that's Emmett's fault. He made the drinking happen, and then I sent it, and I found Twitter, and I talked to you. But I know a lot...about stuff."
I ran a hand through my hair, closed my eyes and turned to face the wall. My face was so hot, it could have been deemed the eighth circle of hell.
"And I saw the picture, well, pictures, really, and you were, um, well, you are really beautiful. And I wanted to talk to you, but I'm really bad at that. Like, really bad. Um, like, I don't really know how, and I'm sorry, and I really like you a lot, and I know that everything is my fault, but I wanted to see you and tell you everything about what I did so you can forgive me. Uh, I um, I made mistake. Big mistake. I shouldn't have looked at that stuff, but I did. And I called here before. And found out the ambulance number and then called again. I didn't talk though, but you knew that. So, yeah. I'm uh. Fuck. I'm really an idiot, and I like you a lot, and I really want you to like me to since I think about you all the time, and your smile, and your eyes. You just, I don't, fuck! I'm babbling aren't I? I'm babbling."
I lightly banged my forehead against the wall at my stupidity.
"I'm not your fiancé, but if I didn't say it because of the license thing then I couldn't see you and there were cabs involved. And the seahorse. And now I'm standing here, and I want to apologize for everything. If I could take it back, I would, and I've never said that about anything that I've ever done when I was hacking because, I mean, that's what I'm good at. Really. That's well, that's me. And that's how I found you, and I want to stay here. With you."
With the last words, I put my glasses back on, but kept my eyes shut as I turned to face Isabella in bed. I gulped, loudly, and opened my mouth one last time.
"Oh, and yeah. I'm, uh. Well, uh, I'm...I'm Edward."
A/N: Yeaaaaah. Hmm, wonder how things are going to happen in the future...
SPEAKING of the future, Yoga and I decided to put ourselves out there for Fandom Gives Back, and we're doing things a little differently. Outtakes wouldn't make sense, since, you know, we don't have a fucking plot, so, instead, we're offering readers the chance to purchase characters and plot points! Basically, if you want to introduce Jasper as Edward and Emmett's long lost Amish cousin, buy it. Want Bella and Edward to take a cruise? Buy it. Really, this story is as much yours as it is ours.
Again, thank you all for your patience. I don't anticipate the wait for updates to take that long EVER again. EVER. So, yeah. Hope you enjoyed it!
Yoga's up next, and I'm DYING to know how this is going to work out.
Until next time,
L –
::climbs back in hole::
