Welcome to PAD's horse stall.

Stephenie Meyer owns the exclusive Twilight Stables.

I just want to borrow a bucket of feed.

Talk to Mr. Ed

"Ugh! Six-thirty in the morning. I smack off the annoying alarm blaring next to my ear. God, my head hurts. I contemplate how it became this way and think Demetri was overly generous when pouring my drinks last night. Thankfully, he doesn't know we're all underage. As much as my pain tells me I don't want to do this again anytime soon, I know I'll go back there soon enough; it's just the nature of being young and letting off steam. The girls and I always dress up to appear older than we are. Additionally, Jasper got me a truly authentic-looking fake I.D.—one my dad would lock me away in my room over, indefinitely, if he knew I had it and have Jasper arrested for if my dad knew where I got it. It's good we never have to show them; it's one of the reasons we keep going back there. Demetri's been cool with us since we met him before the beginning of the fall semester when Edward and I first moved in. So, when the girls asked Felix to bring me home, I initially didn't protest because not only was he was hot looking, he was also Demetri's cousin, and we all trust Demetri. Additionally, I knew the girls weren't in much better shape than I was in, but they were still staying there to sober up some.

Ugh! Last night… I threw myself at Felix. Yeah, I went there with the intention of letting loose a bit, but I didn't expect someone to take an interest in me. Don't get me wrong; guys do hit on me while I'm in class and when we go out clubbing, but The Rut is a hangout where the male blue collar locals go to catch up on their equivalent of gossip, throw back a few beers, and watch a few ball games. No one usually messes with us there, which is the way we usually like it. So, when Felix took an interest, given all of the crap I had thrust at me from Edward, I just gave in to the distraction.

I look next to the clock and see a quart of water, two extra-strength Tylenols, and some weird herbal hangover remedy. Edward must have awoken and gotten those things for me during the night after the last time I checked him.

Edward… God, I feel like such an ass, him seeing me topless with Felix, then him getting clobbered and knocked unconscious because of my choice of manly invites. I deserve all of this misery I'm feeling at the moment and will probably continue to feel for the rest of the day…

I must have dozed off again, 6:40. I pull down my covers and try to get up but realize that I have an anchor attached to me in the form of gangly arms and legs covered with sparse fields of shimmery, sunlit, light-colored hair. Its front is flush with my back, and I muse that there must be a big burr on this iron weight because it seems to be abrading my behind right now.

I wiggle my butt and push back into Edward's present situation.

"Unghhhh."

It's his only reply, but he adds to it by constricting his arms around me even tighter. I really need the water, painkillers and a bathroom right now; so I try to wriggle out of his confining grip. It's not working. He just tightens up even more, now seeking greater friction.

I'm conflicted. He feels extremely nice, pleasantly warm, and very comforting. I could get used to this. The fingers of his right hand start to wander over my waist.

When I got up at 3:30 to check Edward's pupils for any changes, I slipped out of my bra and skirt and into Edward's tee shirt he had tossed on the floor—it smelled good, so I figured what the hell. I skipped adding flannel pajama bottoms because Edward is a furnace, and I didn't want to overheat. I did opt for a change of panties as it somehow felt strange sleeping in the same underwear I was in last night while Felix was groping me. I also brushed my hair, used my toothbrush, and washed up some before climbing back into bed and snuggling up with Edward.

As much as I'd love to remain here, I have class. Even with a hangover, Introduction to Comparative English Literature should be no problem, seeing as I've already studied my text cover to cover and have read everything on the reading list at least twice.

I know I need to get out of this stronghold and remember the fact that Edward is extremely ticklish. I consider that my ultimate weapon if he doesn't let go of me. I start to move his hands off my waist, but he toughens his hold.

"Mmmm, Kiss."

What was that all about? I felt Edward's nose graze the side of my neck. Then he just planted a kiss right at its base where my shoulder meets it. Edward always gives me friendly pecks, but this is more—and intimate.

"Kiss."

I get shivers as he does it again.

"Bella."

I stay perfectly still to see if he's awake or dreaming. My heart's now at a galloping pace, beating nearly double-time. Again, I try to dislodge myself.

"No, don't go; don't leave me. He's not good for you."

What?

Okay, I can play along. Let's see where this goes.

"Ed-ward?"

I draw it out saying it as seriously and quietly sexily as I can.

"Who's not good for me?"

I try to coax this conversation out of him and press my ass back into where it counts.

"Unghhh."

He gives a guttural moan and smooths his hands over my stomach patting, it in the process while rubbing his head up and down my hair and the side of my face.

I can't help it. I begin huffing in amusement as Edward reminds me of the talking horse in a Nick-at-Nite Mr. Ed rerun and expect a whinny and the equivalent of an equine's raspberry out of him at any time. It makes me want to give him a long, fat carrot, and judging by the bulge I still feel at my back, I think he wants to give me one, too.

I force myself to curb my humor, as I especially want to see where this goes. I know I sleep talk. I shudder over the crazy things I must have spewed out that Edward's heard from me over the years. Edward's opiate-induced, potentially-revealing ramblings are too good for me to pass up, so I try again.

"Who's not good enough for me, Edward?"

"Football… freight train… Felix."

What?

I bite the inside of my mouth to keep from laughing, but after thinking about his words, I have a sobering thought. I reason Edward's afraid I'll find a boyfriend.

How should I feel about that?

I don't want a boyfriend now, do I?

Random hook-ups take the edge off, and I can certainly see their benefit. If Edward got a steady girlfriend, how would I feel? Could I handle them carrying on here, in front of me, on the couch, in the kitchen, on our deck, or in his bedroom?

I feel my chest seizing. I wouldn't like it, but not because I can't handle his meaningless PDA's. I wouldn't like it because I don't think I could handle his meaningless PDA's turning into something meaningful with someone other than me. That must mean I like Edward, as in like, like Edward. It's likely that it's something even more than like.

All of a sudden, I feel like the room's closing in, and I need some distance. I fight to break free.

"Edward, Edward, let me go, please!"

I am starting to panic. I squirm harder.

"Stop, Edward. I need to get out."

I feel Edward release me, and I'm finally able to get up out of bed. I turn around and look at him.

He has terror in his eyes.

His nostrils are flaring, and his sweat is beading. His breaths are forced like that of someone wheezing. God, he looks frightened.

I push my own insecurities aside, and I settle down onto the sheets to be with him.

"I'm sorry. I felt trapped. I needed to get up to use the bathroom and to get water and painkillers. I didn't mean to scare you. He looks at me with a look I don't think I've ever seen, penitence maybe. He brings his forehead to rest gently against mine while his brain's reasoning tries to climb on board with his body's reacting.

I gently stroke the back of his head and feel him wince in pain.

"Oops, I guess it still hurts, doesn't it?"

He nods slightly. I feel his body tense then jerk in successive movements.

"Look at me."

I pull back to see him. The agony in his eyes has now been paired with a fresh set of tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Hey, what's the matter?"

He moves his head from side to side.

"Is it your head?"

He still continues to shake, no.

"Well, what is it then?"

He puts his fist against his heart and gently raps at his chest. The hollow sound resonates around me.

The echo of his emptiness is not lost. His dream became a horrific reality. He thought I was actually leaving him for someone else.

I may have been battling with my own pent-up emotions until this point, but in this moment, my mind is now clear.

Now my chest is hurting as I feel the adrenaline course its way through me, awakening my realization.

I prop myself up and begin to angle over to him, slowly. I lower my head and begin to kiss his tears away, first from one cheek then the other. I repeat the action to do the same for both corners of his eyes.

I pull back to gauge Edward's response. He looks shocked as a young majestic buck readying to bolt. I hope my next action quells his fear.

I heedfully inch towards him with fixed determination. I've never been more certain of anything and have no doubt I want to do this. My morning breath, raging headache, and bursting bladder can wait.

Never losing his gaze, I cup my right hand around Edward's neck and coax him towards me. I judge his expression one last time and find his acceptance before I place a small soft kiss onto his lips. I move back to see his apprehension and kiss him again once more. This time I gently tug his upper lip. I am greeted with soft stubble. It feels delightful, so I smile. I am careful to purposefully weave my fingers through a part of Edward's hair at the nape of his neck I know has been unaffected by his injury. I pull his silken strands cautiously and scratch his sensitive scalp slightly. He rewards me appreciatively.

"Mmmmm."

I now take on his whole mouth sweetly, kneading and pulling his pliable pink skin. He lets me explore. Slight tugs, nudges, and nips and are now tender sucks, testing licks and subtle swallows. I've found his unhurried tongue as he's found mine. Now we are both trekking through uncharted space. I'm lost in the moist, hot depth sheltering his satiny teeth. I feel the silky walls inside his mouth and need to taste the smoothness of his rippled palate. His tongue is pleasingly plush and welcomingly warm. I berate myself. If I had known it would feel this good, I would have pursued this a long time ago. I don't just want to comb his mouth. I want to explore his entire terrain. I feel a tingly rush moving from my brain stem up along the back of my head. It makes my sultry thoughts swirl; it's euphoric. I feel tingling elsewhere, too, in places where he isn't but I would like him to be. I know it's time to stop; it's too soon, but in some ways, it hasn't been soon enough. I reason we need to slow down; I don't want to compromise this. I sense our dynamic has changed as we pull away at the same time and speak with our eyes what our mouths dare not say; it's too early. We draw our lips together one last time uncertain if this will continue but hopeful it will.

"Hi." It's my simple reply to him.

"Hi back," he gives me.

"I, uh, need to get ready for class. Are you okay? Do you need me to stay with you this morning?"

"No, you should go. I think I'm okay to go, too. I'm a little sore, but it's nothing I haven't experienced before with football."

"Oh crap, I left my truck at The Rut. Do you think you can swing me by so I can get it before class?"

"Of course I can."

"Okay, well, um, I think I'll just take a shower, then. I should put the coffee on first."

"Don't worry about it. I think I can manage to set up the pot and flick on the switch without burning out our apartment, at least for today, anyway."

"All right, I should get started on the shower, then."

I figure I'll get the water running, then gather my clothes and take the pills Edward has set out for me.

"Bella?"

"Yeah?"

I turn back to look at him and see the doubt in his eyes.

"Are we okay? I mean I know we're okay, but is this okay because I especially want it to be okay? Okay?"

I walk back to him and pull his forehead to my lips to cease his ramblings and quash his misgivings. I place a soft kiss there and carefully caress his head. I then release my grip so our eyes can meet.

"This is more than okay; it's better than okay. You know what? It's so much better than okay, it's perfect. We'll make this work, Edward. I promise. There will be times when I may need to yell at you or beat on you. Sometimes I probably will even want to kill you, but I'll always be there for you.

"That's good enough for me."

With an ass grab and a tight hug, Edward sends me to the shower. I'm not sure how all of this will work out between us, as I know we shouldn't rush into things without discussing them first. We still have to figure out what this is and should probably keep it quiet around our friends and families until we figure it out for ourselves. We aren't quitters and are up for any challenge. I know that this won't be easy, but I know it's worth doing. I just hope, regardless, of what happens that our friendship survives.

A/N:

Mr. Ed was an American comedic television show of the 1950s and 1960s featuring a talking stallion. The only person Mr. Ed spoke to was his owner, Wilbur. The cable television network, Nickelodeon resurrected the show's reruns during their evening programming segment, Nick-At-Nite. The show ran for eight seasons with 145 episodes.

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PAD