AN: Oh these two crazy kids

Chapter 41

Chief Charlie worked the evening shift every other week. These were the nights that Baseball Boy came over to listen to music. That was what was supposed to happen, because I thought it was best to try to get him to listen to music I enjoy. I could only play tonsil hockey in my kid's car for so long to Barry Manilow and Billy Joel. It was a Isabella Swan mood killer.

Well that was how the nights were supposed to go. Eat popcorn and listen to music. Instead, as soon as I saw my kid next to my bed, I would pounce at start eating his face.

Tonight was another one if those times when Baseball Boy was attacked as soon as I let him in the door. Like a zombie looking for brains, I attached myself to his neck and pulled him up the stairs.

"Take off your shirt," I demanded as I pushed him down on the bed.

"We should talk."

"Are you breaking up with me?"

He looked appalled. "Never! You are my angel! My vision of everything sweet and pure in the world..." I rolled my eyes and pulled off my own shirt. He moaned, "Boobs."

I unhooked my bra. His eyes widened. "Take off your shirt. That way we'll be even."

"Yes, ma'am." The shirt came off and I saw his pretty skin. He really was far to good looking to be real. I would never admit that though. If someone tried to out me, they would lose their tongue. It was a cruel punishment, but I needed to keep my street cred.

"Boobs. So pretty." He poked them. "So soft."

He poked them again. And again. It seems that real breasts in front of his face made him lose the rest of his brain cells.

"Stop with the poking." I moved his hand away and his body fell forward. His lips hovered over my bare nipple.

"Can I kiss it?"

"Sure."

It felt good. The kind of good that I had never imagined before. Baseball Boy was enjoying it to with all the sucking and groping he was doing. Then he mumbled between slurps, "Mama..."

What?

It hit me that he might have mentally regressed to his infant days when Mama Cullen used to nurse him. That was not happening.

I pushed him off and his teeth grazed my skin. "Oww."

"What? Huh? Why did we stop? Didn't you like it?" He looked utterly confused. His eyes were transfixed on my bosom.

"These things are empty, Farmer Brown." I gave him the evil eye. "If you would like some milk, please kindly go to the refrigerator where a carton is awaiting you."

"What are you talking about?"

"You said 'Mama'."

He buried his face in his hands. "I'm so sorry!"

"Uh huh."

"It's better we stop anyway," he took my hand. "I want our first night to be special."

"I hate candles and roses."

"Our wedding night."

I wanted to vomit. "No."

"You know good and well that we're going to get married."

He was obsessed with the idea, since that giant numbskull decided to get engaged to Pamela Anderson in overalls. They were all insane.

"No."

"Isabella Swan, will you..."

"No."

"I'll just keep asking!"

"Don't." I pulled my hands away and grabbed my shirt. "I'm going to it this back on."

He looked conflicted. "Don't. Please."

"Only if you promise to kiss me without muttering anything about marriage and mothers," I warned. "I will cut your lips off from touching mine."

"Fine, but only for now." He kissed me quickly. "I'll get you in a white dress sooner or later."

"Shut up and kiss me."

And he did.