Pairing: Paul/Bella
Genre: Comfort/Romance
Rating: T
Words: 500
Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight
Prompt: picture/quote "Some days the memories still knock the wind out of me"
Remember When
A suit and tie was never his style. She always thought he looked sharp when he dressed nice. In her honor, he wore one, black. It was a nice contrast to the salt streaks in his hair. "Finally got gray hair, huh Pops?" The nickname stuck when she found out about our pending son. 100 years old only been sporting grays for a couple of years, it made him proud.
Eight-two years is a long time to hold the center of your world in your arms. A mother to few, a grandmother to many, and a great-grandmother to several with a whole legacy behind them. "We did good, Mama," he padded the fresh dirt. The nickname stuck when she told him about their son. She aged faster than he did, but her youthful radiance was shown through her smile.
He shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it over a tree branch with perfect aim. His shoes and socks were kicked to the side, and he loosened his tie along with the first three buttons of his crisp white shirt. "Lookie at what I found," he said in a teasing manner that always ignited her laughter. When he closed his eyes he could still remember the rich sound.
He laid back, crossing his ankles and folding one arm under his head. The small spiral journal he swiped, still closed in his hand.
"Paul come on let's read a book."
"Why do you always read fucking kids books to me?" He thumps the cover of 'Where the Wild Things Are'.
"Because you like the pictures," she said settling into the couch. He rested in his favorite spot, cradled by her limbs. His head on her stomach, her hand in his hair, the book opened to the first page.
She liked to read, he wanted her attention, it was a fair compromise. They were definitely secrets he proudly kicked everyone's ass over. Jealous bastards, they ended up getting their mates to do the same thing for them. It was relaxing; an outlet they all needed.
"Paul, you didn't have to break his nose," she said as they held each other in post orgasmic bliss.
"Well, the fucker should keep his mouth shut," he grumbled and she kissed his nose. He buried his head in her shoulder. "Stop it, the guys already think I lost my man card," he pouted.
"Aw, poor Paul, would you like a story," she cooed.
"No!"
She laughed.
"Please."
The truth was he loved to hear her voice. She acted out the different characters with different voices and it was pretty cool. It made her happy, the closeness, the cuddle moments, and he loved holding her. He wanted her the day he met her all fire and brimstone to combat, single handedly, the evil "Uley Gang" in name of one Jacob Black.
He cleared his throat and opened the journal to the first page, and he began to read aloud. "Page one, The Day I Met Paul Lahote…"