Edward woke to a pounding headache and serious dry mouth problem. It took him a few moments to work up enough saliva to swallow and then another moment, or seven, to force his eyes to open. The brightness from the ceiling lights made his headache pick up a notch or two.

"Time to rise and shine, sweetheart," said a voice from somewhere above him.

He knew that voice, it belonged to his mother. Groaning, he squeezed his eyelids shut again and turned his face into the pillow.

When he made no move to get up, she nudged him slightly. "I'm serious Edward. I caught Anthony going down the stairs, sliding on his tummy. Would have been cute, if it wasn't for his heart wrenching sobs. I can only imagine how lost he must have felt waking up alone in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar place. No wonder he was upset."

"No wonder," Edward agreed groggily, without even opening his eyes.

"Did you hear what I just said? Your son needs you. I've done everything I can to calm him down, but I'm still a stranger to him and he just barely tolerates my company. He won't let me change him out of his pyjamas, and trust me, he REALLY needs to be changed out of that pyjamas."

The bed dipped as if a heavy weight had just been placed on it; a weight that crawled and squirmed and wriggled like a maggot on a hot rock.

"Mom…." Edward all but whined, pulling up his legs to protect himself from the crawling toddler. "My head is killing me. I don't care what you do, just take him elsewhere."

"Edward Anthony Cullen, I'm disappointed in you. You smell like you've just finished a shift in a brewery."

"Distillery," he mutteredmoreto himself than in reply as he, with his eyes still shot, began prying the bundle of pointy bones and sharp claws away from him.

"What?"

"Never mind… I can't think straight right now," he groaned, pushing the child away firmly. "How about we try this some other time when the room is not spinning?"

"So, you're telling me that you're too hung over to take care of your son? Is that it?"

"No. Yes…Probably." The admission came with a pained wince. "It's dad's fault! He's the one who brought out the hard liquor."

"Funny, your brother said almost the precise same thing…when I found him passed out, face down, on the couch in the downstairs den," his mother exclaimed, clearly not the least bit amused by this.

"Well, there you go. Why do you question it?"

"I question it because I know for a fact that your father was in his bed, fast asleep, snoring peacefully by the time the clock struck midnight."

Edward opened his eyes to glare at her. "I'm telling you, he was the one that thought it was fitting to end the evening with a bottle of twelve year old malt whiskey."

"And I'm telling you, that unless someone tampered with it or forced it down your throat, it is 100% your own fault if your head is hurting."

The bed shifted again and for a moment he thought she was actually leaving and taking the boy with her, but nope, no such luck…. Turns out she was merely stopping the little rugrat from tumbling over the edge of the mattress.

"Hung over or not, you are needed for daddy duty," she declared and then resolutely placed the boy on the pillow next to Edwards head. "And no, we can't save this for later. You're not the only one stinking up the place right now. Let's just say a diaper change is long over do."

"Gee, thanks mom, I can smell that much." Edward grumbled, as his stomach threatened to expel any leftover contents. He didn't gag, but only because he was distracted by small hands patting his head tentatively.

"Edda?" the little boy asked, poking Edward in the cheek with two not so gentle fingers. Edward growled, baring his teeth, causing Anthony to erupt into a fit of giggles.

"Ed-da...Ed-da...Ed-da...Ed-da...Ed-da..." he chanted, patting his fathers face, faster and harder with each pronounced syllable.

"Cut it out, kiddo!" Edward barked before he could stop himself. This startled Anthony of course, who shrieked and scooted away in a hurry. Despite the fog that was clouding his brain, Edward realised his mistake straight away. His arm reached out almost on instinct, grabbing a hold of the boy, before he got too close too the edge of the bed.

His head protested loudly to the sudden movement and so did the child. Cue quivering lips, giant crocodile tears and the occasional loud wail of outraged indignation.

To Edward, the noise was like nails on a chalkboard. Stifling a pained whimper, he forced himself up to something resembling a sitting position. "I really can't do this right now, " he told his mother, pushing the boy, quite forcefully into her arms. "Take him to Bella, she'll know what to do."

Almost as soon as the words where out of his mouth, something struck him; something he should've have taken note of since the minute he opened his eyes. He was in the guest room, Bellas room, but Bella was nowhere to be found.

Could she have left already? Was she already gone?

"What time is it?" he questioned, craning his neck to look for a clock. That's when his gaze fell on a pair of red flannel long johns tied to the bedpost above his head.

Crap!

So, that's why his limbs, especially his hands felt tingly and weird, like he had no circulation or something. The drawstring from his sweatpants was still there, tied around his right wrist like a funny looking bracelet .. and wait… yup, he was stark naked, except for the sheet he had wrapped around his waist.

Crap, Crap and double crap! No wonder his mother was looking at him strangely. He felt his face and neck heat at being caught behaving like such a mess. The embarrassment was nothing compared to the fear that squeezed his stomach though.

"Please, tell me she's still here…" The plea escaped his lips, before he could even process what he was saying.

"Who? Isabella?"

"No, the fairy godmother," he exclaimed, tugging at his hair in frustration.

"She's still asleep and I'm not planning on waking her. The poor girl looked beyond exhausted last night."

"I don't understand. She's sleeping… where exactly? I mean this is her bed… Did she join Emmett downstairs?"

"No, she's in your room, actually. Imagine my surprise when followed Anthony to your room and found our guest fast asleep in your bed. Or well, on top of your bed, really." Her eyebrows furrowed like she had just thought of something. "I worry she might have caught a cold, because she was wrapped in both a robe and a

duvet."

"She seemed fine when I last spoke to her, better than fine even…" Suddenly and without warning, a sensory memory flashed, like a lightning bolt, through his mind; the feel of her body moving on top of his. Isabella, in her terry robe, mounting him like a cowgirl on her stallion. He had been totally into it, even blindfolded and tied. The smell, the sound, the heat… Err, this was not the time to be reliving those kind of memories.

Edward shook himself out of his little daze. Thankfully it seemed as though this mother's attention was momentarily distracted. Apparently, Anthony had a snatched a cylindrical looking object from the bedside table, which he was threatening to swallow whole. It looked like a stick of lip balm; Bella's lip balm, most likely. Bella…

He cleared his throat. "Like I was saying, Bella seemed fine when I last spoke to her," he tried to pass it off nonchalantly, but his mother wasn't having it.

"Was this before or after you left Emmett passed out on the couch?" she asked, flashing him a questioning yet knowing smile.

"Oh ha, very funny," he sneered. "After, if you must know. I sough her out hoping to get her to talk to me, but I guess I must have fallen asleep and I guess Bella must have decided that Anthony needed her company more than I did."

"Clearly, the woman is a saint," Esme concluded, with a hint of a smile. "She's good with the boy, yes? And Anthony likes her?"

"Very much so."

"What about you, honey? You like her, too, right? Judging by the giant hickey on your neck, I'd say she tucked you in good and proper last night."

"Mom!" he hissed, embarrassed and annoyed at the same time. "You did not just say that!"

"I did and I'm not taking it back. It's quite obvious that you two still fancy each other, but I'll stay out of it, I promise." She held her hands up in a gesture of surrender. "However, you should probably know that I asked Mr. Anderson, the farmer that keeps our driveway clear of snow, to save us for last. We have almost fifteen inches of untouched snow piled up, starting on our front step and all they way down to the main road."

"Great, does this mean you've taken up meddling as a hobby now? " he muttered, looking up at the ceiling.

"You can thank me later, dear. Oh, and one more thing…" She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "…you were probably right about your father and the whiskey. I wouldn't be surprised if he brought that bottle out on purpose. Pretty clever of him… clever and just a tad bit mean. Emmett can't hold his liquor for shi-… for the life of him. Let's just say he won't be driving anywhere in the current state he's in."

"Arggg… I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear a word of what you just said. My head hurts way too much to try and make sense of any of it."

"That's fine. We can talk about this later… when Alice gets here. I'm sure she'll want a full report," she smirked patting his shoulder. "Now, back to the matter at hand. Let's do something about this diaper situation, shall we?"