Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, or anything to do with it, however the OC's are all my own. The concept of Jasper being the 'God of War' is something that I've read in a few fics, but I don't know where it originates, so I'm sorry for not giving credit where credit's due! Plus, I have no idea what Louisiana, or Wisconsin are like - I'm from England, so please, forgive any mistakes. Have a great day, and I love you guys!
Camilla POV
December 2020
Madison, Wisconsin
November passed rather quietly, breezing in a particularly chilly, wintry December.
Everyday there was a picturesque blanket of comforting snow which brought a small smile to my face every single time. Of course, I had to travel in Clyde's Camaro everywhere I went because my bike wasn't exactly safe, and both Jas and Cly forbade me from using it. Almost begrudgingly, I pushed it into the garage, and ended up spending my spare time just improving its interior, toiling for hours inside of the small cubby of a work area, a wrench in one hand and a bottle of motor oil in the other.
Most of the time, Clyde would join me, teaching me the ins and outs of motor vehicle know-how and even though he would mock me for not knowing, he would fix any mistakes that I made. He liked to torment me, especially as he knew more about cars than I did. He usually did my tune ups, but he spent a lot more of his time over at the Cullen's house, and I found that I enjoyed the time that I spent with him more now considering its becoming significantly less frequent.
On the upside, however, is that my relationship with Jasper was going better than ever. He was opening up more to me, spending more time with me, and I found that he liked to cuddle. A lot.
Sometimes he'd sneak into my room, and wouldn't say anything but "C'mere," and hold me, all night long. Other times, it's the little things that made my heart pound wildly in my chest.
He would hold my hand up to the absolute last second before class, or as he walked me up to my house after a spontaneous date night. He would play with my fingers, rubbing the pads of his own over my sensitive palm, and press light kisses on the expanse of skin, simply because he liked the blush that broke out on my cheeks as a result.
Whenever he would hold me from behind, I'd feel his eyes as they scanned my features from the side, and he would always, always, press feather light kisses along my jaw and neck before anywhere else. He would draw circles on my hips and it was almost like he, intuitively, knew when I was upset or in emotional pain. He gave me the space that I needed to cope on my own.
When we were alone, it was truly just about the two of us, and he made me feel so loved and cherished that it made my heart hurt when I was supposed to leave, and I missed him, nearly every moment that he wasn't there.
It wasn't at all about the sex. We hadn't even gone all of the way, yet, but I had never felt so.. Loved and cherished by anybody else, and I was falling for this man, so quickly, it was frightening.
The shade of his hair had become my favorite colour, the scent of his skin became my only weakness. His smile made my knees weak, and his frown made my heart skip multiple beats. Looking into his eyes was my favorite activity to do when we were close, because they changed so quickly. His emotions changed so rapidly that it was hard for me to keep up sometimes, but it was fun. It kept me on my toes, and it was hard work, but relationships were never made to be easy.
Beforehand, I had always had an unhealthy dependence on my big brother, and there was an overwhelming amount of pressure on him, bestowed by my parents, to keep me safe and protected. I felt like, now, I was growing up, and I could, not so much stop needing him all together, but ebb away the dependency, little by little, so I could stand on my own two feet, at least for a while. My dad's work let him have the Christmas holiday's off and for the first time in months we all were able to sit down and have breakfast together, at a relaxed speed and in a comfortable silence. Most days, it felt like dad couldn't get out of the house fast enough, and it was slowly wearing down on both Clyde and I.
It was a nice feeling, waking up to the familiar sounds of my dad singing along to his favorite James Brown vinyl discs, dancing around the kitchen, a spatula in one hand and the customized apron that Clyde and I had bought him almost four Christmases ago. It said nothing but 'World's Best Chef' in strawberry-red cursive, and a bunch of sugar-pop animated animals and confectioneries. It brought a nostalgic smile to my face and I heard Clyde lumbering behind me, roaring along with my father at the top of his voice, dressed in nothing but a pair of sweats and slippers.
"Merry Christmas Eve, daddy and brother of mine!," I said and clapped Clyde on the back, my fingers still clammy from the shower that I had just taken, and chuckled at his animated wince as our skin collided, which caused a sharp sting to break out on his back, as well as a red flush of the outline of my small palm.
He growled, glowering down at me, "Fuck!"
"Clyde! Language!"
I shuffled into the kitchen, winking at my big brother, and hopped onto the marble counter, an innocent smile plastered onto my face.
Clyde yelled, red-faced, "I mean.. Dad! She hit me!"
"Cammy.." my dad began, glowering up at me from the oven, as he pulled the sausages from inside of it, and threw them onto the net of three plates. The beef sausages were joined by a healthy helping of scrambled eggs and two hotcakes, each. I poured each of us a glass of orange juice - Clyde's filled with those gross bits that I couldn't stand the texture of - and placed them besides the prettily designed mats that were on the oak dining room table.
"Eat up, kiddo," my dad said, bumping his shoulder with my own as he fiddled with the thin-framed glasses perched on the edge of his nose. My eyes had been irritated recently by the constant use of my contacts, so I, too, was wearing my glasses.
"I'm heading over to the Alice's tomorrow. I've got her a Christmas present, and I want to give it to her myself," Clyde said, mouth full of what used to be edible food. Our dad glanced up, out of the corner of his eyes, and asked, sternly, "Clyde.. Are you being safe?"
Spitting out his eggs, all over me, by the way, Clyde blushed, heavily, and stammered, unable to actually get all of his words out. Groaning, lowly, I begged, pathetically, "Dad, please, don't."
He stared at me, wide-eyed and appalled, then he asked, worriedly, "Cam.. Baby girl, are you.. Being safe?"
Clyde's coughed, harder then, and I had to bang my fist on his back to stop him from choking besides me. His eyes were watering and bloodshot from the jerking his body was doing, and my cheeks flushed in embarrassment, and I stuttered, "D-Dad!"
He said, shrugging, then stabbed at his food with his fork, uneasily, "I have a right to ask, Camilla. I haven't been 'round much recently, baby girl, an' I'm worried 'bout my kids."
My ears were hot, and I wanted nothing more than the world to swallow me up whole, and I groaned, "Well stop! We're fine. Like.. No, we're not doing this."
He rolled his eyes and said, "Whatever. It's not the end of the world, sugar. You're seventeen now."
Clyde mumbled, completely mortified at the uncomfortable turn of conversation, "Yeah, but still, dad!"
He dug into his breakfast, regardless, and answered, dismissively, "Sorry, kiddo."
After an embarrassingly, uncomfortable silence, we went back to our breakfasts, my ears still painted a hot, angry red, and my brother could barely look at my dad without grimacing, deeply. We all knew he was active, but talking about it was something we didn't do in the house. My dad considered me his baby princess - if he found out that I had had sex, he would kill me, then Clyde for not breaking the other guy's face in half. He did, but dad didn't need to now that. It was a double standard, but one that I couldn't really fault my Dad for. For some reason, finding out that his daughter was sexually active would break his heart, but finding out that Clyde was, did nothing to bother him much. They talked it over, and my Dad made sure that Clyde was using protection, but beyond that, it was pretty much a non-factor. As I finished washing up the dishes and hanging them in the drainer besides the sink, I said to my dad, "I'm going to go shopping today. Get the last minute presents and stuff."
He nodded, and asked, "What'chu get me?"
Rolling my eyes, I answered, sarcastically, bumping his shoulder with my own, "Wouldn't be a surprise if I told you, papa bear, would it?"
He mussed my hair with his fingers and I groaned at the messiness that he caused. My curls were wild, anyway, but now that he'd messed them up, they were all knotted together, damp and annoying, as his fingers were wet. As soon as I stepped into my bedroom, I ran a brush through my hair, and tying it up and out of the way in a neat, knotted French bun. My eyelashes were layered with a thin coating of mascara, and a light smearing of pale coral gloss on my lips. Clyde frightened me by slamming his fist on my wall, and growled, lowly, "Hurry up, Cher! I'm leaving in literally five minutes. Hurry your ass up!"
Tutting under my breath, I whined, quietly, my eyes closing in annoyance, "Alright.. Dang it."
Pulling on my dull navy parka over my shoulders, I stepped into a pair of Timberland boots, and tied up the laces, quietly. I heaved my leather satchel, filled with the basic necessities, over my right shoulder, and kicked my door closed behind me.
-0-
The next day…
"Merry Christmas kids!"
Nostalgia swarmed my body as soon as I opened my eyes that wintry Christmas morning, and I found myself smiling as I took in the state of my bedroom.
It was a Noel family tradition to spend the morning together, enjoying breakfast in one another's company, then sharing presents in front of the fire, and watch the shabby, typical, cheesy Christmas movies that are listed, while drinking cups upon cups of our dad's conventional furtive hot chocolate, tucked away, tenderly, in the living room. Even though this was the second Christmas that we spent without our mother present, we still sent her a well-wishing message over the Internet, although Clyde was very hesitant to offer the first olive branch.
He hasn't forgiven her for leaving - not in the slightest, but I don't think it will take much longer. He had always been a daddy's boy, but loved our mom very much, and it hurt more than anything else to have her leave. The knock on effects were to great, and I think, somewhere deep inside of him, he blames her for what happened to me. Albeit that way of thinking is somewhat ridiculous, as it was my fault. I shouldn't have been so open with Paul. It wasn't good for either of us. He wasn't the most stable, and I needed someone to care about me. I felt like all of the drama at home, the arguing, the fighting, the crying, it was just too much, and I needed someone else to be around, and it just turned out to be him.
The six months I spent with him were.. Different. It was the first relationship that I had been in, and it was crazy. He became everything I thought about, even when he was making me do things that weren't exactly.. Normal for me, and when I got into trouble, I blamed everyone else instead of myself.
It was their fault, it had to be - I wasn't a bad girl, was I?
That was the only thing that I had to explain anything, and it was basically how I got through those chaotic months.
But here I was, two years later, sober with a group of amazing friends, and an even better family. I was doing well at school again, and my grade point average was back up where it was supposed to be. I was good. I was happy. It was Christmas, and it was snowing. I got to enjoy life's little pleasures, and I was glad for every day that I was able to open my eyes and take in the glorious warmth of the sun. Clyde pinched my shoulder between his two fingers, and asked, apprehensively, "You okay, Cher?"
Quietly, I replied, airily, "Yeah.. Just thinking', I guess."
He smiled, softly, and went back to sipping on his beaker of dull drown alcohol. I only wished I could get lost in the wistful aura and be merry, but something felt off. Kind of like the calm before the storm, and it made my insides prickle in discomfort. We spent Christmas morning, and late afternoon together, however Clyde and I wanted to go over to the Cullen's abode for an evening meal, and the mainstream gift exchange. It was nothing special, but I was excited.
I would be a liar if I said I wasn't nervous about what Jasper would think of my gift. I hope he liked it, honestly.
-0-0-0-
Imagine having the sex talk with, not only your father, but your sibling, too? At the same damn time?
No thanks.
-0-0-0-
Read and review. It's been a while, and I'm only putting this up bc it's X-mas. There won't be another chapter for a while, unfortunately. I have a lot of homework and coursework due for the holidays and I'll be working through the X-mas break.