Title: It Happened in Vegas
Genre: Drama/romance
Rating: T
Pairing: Bella/Paul
Words: 500
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Prompt: Cupcake ATM picture

AN: All human characters, not sure on the age- early twenties for Bella, maybe a year or two younger for Paul.

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It Happened in Vegas

Number 305—just making sure this was the right apartment. My arm felt like it weighed a ton as I lifted my hand to knock firmly.

His beautiful brow was furrowed when he opened the door, but when he saw my face his expression changed over to shock—and was that a little joy as well?

"Izzy? What are you… I mean, how did you… Wow. It's, uh, it's nice to see you again."

He was stuttering, not smooth like the first time we met, and the memory of that day and night made my eyes well up with tears. As hard as I tried not to, I'd fallen in love with that sexy charmer, and catching him off guard wasn't something I especially enjoyed.

Raising my eyebrow at him, I mustered up the courage to ask. "Can I come in? We, uh, we have some things we need to talk about."

The door opened wider, and he motioned me through. "Yeah, yeah, come in. I'm sorry the place is a wreck—I've been a little busy with school and work…"

Glancing around at the scattered pizza boxes and odd items of clothing, I flushed red when I spied his black boxers hanging over a chair. After our evening together in Vegas I was a little surprised that he owned underwear. He'd gone commando that night…

My eyes met his and it seemed he was thinking the same thing when he stepped right up to me and tilted my face up toward his. "I'm glad you're here, Izzy. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you."

His soft, full lips covered mine, and it felt like just yesterday that we parted ways, instead of several months. As we kissed, I saw flashes of our time together—gambling in the casino, walking the strip, sharing a cupcake from the mall…

"So, uh, not that I'm not glad to see you again," he breathed softly, pulling back just enough to look at me again. "But how did you find me?"

Thinking of the cupcake wrapper I'd carefully tucked into my suitcase, the stick figure couple holding hands that he drew with our names—Aaron and Izzy—written along the edge, I blushed again. My dad had been less than impressed when I brought it to him to dust for fingerprints, but I had no other options. I had to find him.

When the prints came back to a "Paul Lahote" currently residing in Seattle, I was worried it wasn't him. But it wasn't like I told him my real name either.

"The how isn't important," I told him, leading him to the couch so we could sit down. "The why is what really matters."

Taking a deep breath, I looked him straight in the eye as I prepared to drop my bomb. "You know that one time in the hot tub, when you said the condom might have broken? Well, it looks like it did. You're going to be a dad."