J/B Holiday Fic Exchange (Part 2 of 3)
Title: And like a new disease she's still too young to treat.
Author:autumn_scarlet
Rating: PG 13+ for sexual references and alcohol.
Spoilers: None, pretty AU really.
Warnings: Sexual references and alcohol.
Pairing (if any): Jacob/Bella and hints of Bella/Edward
Summary: After running away from Edward on Christmas day, Bella turns up on Jacob's back step and the two run away together.
A/N:This is for the Jacob/Bella Holiday Fic Exchange. This is for edwardscupcake; I hope you know that I had a lot of fun with this one, and I hope you like it too. She asked for kissing (lots of it), drunkenness and dirtiness. Each weaved it's way into the story, and I know you didn't want angst or sadness, but I can't help it with J/B, but they're happy, they are, really. Oh, and song title from a Damien Rice song - Volcano. One more note - this is part 2/3 and the others will be posted within the next few days, however, each can exist as a standalone piece - their conclusions will make more sense in the final piece though.
She’s the picture of innocence sitting on his back step - knees tucked up towards her, eyes wide, watching him. Innocence that makes him want to forget why he’s angry, forget that it hurts, forget everything and just pull her close and crush his lips against hers. It would be as if this single act would wipe it from her eyes but really, it fucking hurts, and it laces every breath he takes and every glance she gives away.
But she’s safe, and here, and that almost takes away the sting.
It is almost a shame that his protective side kick-starts - he almost kicks himself when he speaks. (Their life, he comes to realise, is just a carefully constructed string of almost's. She'll later insist there is nothing careful about it).
“Isabella Swan - where have you bee-”
“You’re dirty”
He blinks. Once. Twice. (The third time's the charm) and she stifles back a laugh - the way she looks at him, he feels as though really, she is the oldest one after all.
It takes a moment (or two, or three) for him to find himself again long enough to take in the situation and remember where he's been.
"Well, of course I'm dirty, I'm been racing through the woods - the muddy woods - for hours looking for you".
She bites her lip, and looks around, "I should go..." [you can almost see the world crash in on her]
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." (What he really means is he didn't mean to make her smile falter). "Look, Bells, why don't we... we need to get out of the rain".
She nods, and that smile creeps back onto her face - he lets out a sigh of relief - "You really are dirty".
He doesn't know why he says it, doesn't know why the thought even crosses his mind (Yes, yes he does).
"You haven't seen anything yet".
---
"What day is it?" her murmur is soft, only just audible over the crackle of the fire. She surprises him. To him the wild abandonment in her eyes - the lack of presence - was just a disguise, just a dreadfully beautiful disguise.
[If only he knew]
He doesn't like the foul taste her words leave in the air but the way she looks tells him not to question them. (her)
"It's Christmas Bella - Happy Christmas".
There's only a whisper of reply, a faint coming together of 'you' and too', so faint he almost misses it (there's that word again).
Moments pass - they just stare at the fire, next to one another, but the distance between them, - the enveloping gap - like a black hole, pulling everything down, down, down is too much for him.
Silences have always made him want to scream.
"Look, Bells, I don't know why you ran away from him, or why, after hours, you ended up on my back step, but maybe..."
The fire that springs to her eyes makes him almost glad he said something.
"But maybe nothing Jacob. Okay, fine, I ran away, I came here. I thought maybe there would be comfort here, maybe that you'd understand. I guess I was wrong. God knows I've been wrong before."
She's alive again, and it breaks his heart.
"Bells, come on, don't be like that, I'm just trying to understand..."
"I want you to, I do... but I can't explain it to you. If it's too hard... I'll just go."
His hand on her shoulder stops her. "No, don't go, please."
She's silent for a moment. He drinks it in - for once afraid of sound.
When her voice comes, it is small, weak, helpless. He wants to hold her.
"Come away with me?"
He wants to hold her. Instead, he says yes.
---
The bikes roar startles her, and she jumps, much to his amusement. He's laughing hard, and she hits him, just as hard.
"Aren't you ever going to realise those puny hands do nothing to this mythological creature."
She stares pointedly. He laughs triumphantly.
"Not yet. But later, you'll change your tune pretty quick".
She's a mix of eyebrows raised, and suggestive looks. His laughter dies as quick as it begun.
She just smirks, and swings one leg over her bike.
"Come on Jake, let’s ride".
He would never admit it, but she's making him nervous.
[Lose five years for sweaty palms and lack of comebacks]
But they wont say that part out loud.
---
The air is heavy and it doesn't smell like home. He wants to ask her where they are going, really, he does, but she's stubborn and secretive. He supposes her ability to keep those secrets is why they both love her so much.
She veers off the road towards a small weather-worn shop and signals for him to follow.
"No, not why, just a part of it, really".
"What was that?" she flips around to question him, one hand on the door.
"Nothing, just talking to myself".
"Honestly, am I the only normal one here?"
She leaves the question hanging in the air, and as she stumbles up the two stairs, it's answered.
He's just too nice to point it out to her; instead he asks what they are doing here.
"Provisions of course - my shout".
He can't argue with that.
They step inside - his head brushes the ceiling, and it smells of age and bikers. She lights up - he knows that this is one of those odd things she'll find beautiful. He doesn't want to understand why.
"Okay, we need marshmallow, chocolate - make that lots of chocolate, and anything else you're going to need to eat."
He opens his mouth to question, but shuts it as she begins piling bags of packaged food into his arms while also digging around for a basket - he marvels at her skill to multi-task. He's surprised there is one, but this being the only store they've passed in a while, albeit disgusting, he supposes it makes sense. She returns to him, basket already half full and he laughs, dumping the contents of his arms in there as well.
"Keep going" she ushers, and disappears towards the back.
His laughter ringing, he keeps piling bags of chips, and lollies, and chocolate into the basket and wonders where abouts the real Bella Swan disappeared to.
He begins to head towards the counter certain they have enough when he hears her call from the back of the store.
"Okay, coming."
He can see the top of her head over an over-packed isle and begins to walk towards her. Her back is turned away from him, and he sighs, tasting trouble in the air.
"What is it Bella?”
She turns towards him, another basket between her hands filled with an assortment of alcoholic beverages.
He raises his eyebrow, in the way he's almost perfected.
"Don't even start - it's New Year's Eve soon, we're going to celebrate in style. And anyway, we're only young once. Now, I have to slip off to the ladies, so take this and go pay. And no, don't look at me like that - it won't work. Money's in the wallet on the top - bye-bye love, see you soon".
She blows him a kiss, and he offers her a low grumble in return.
Jacob Black has wondered a lot of things in the last few hours, but mostly he wonders at what point in time did Bella manage to wrap him around her little finger. He would like to go back to that moment in time and slap himself in the face.
But unfortunately, he can't.
So he just buys the booze instead.
You ask, I jump and all that.
Sad little lovesick puppy.
---
The nights pass quickly - they slip in and out of cheap motels, smelling of stale beer and sleeping on old sex.
They don’t mind really, they lose count of the days, of the nights.
It’s just numbers and letters - just parts of the whole that is them.
And in the end, there are more important things.
They are only half surprised when the thirty-first creeps up on them.
---
“What’s for breakfast?”
He’s half asleep, neck sore from a too-small bed, but his smile takes away any guilt, and her cooking makes it all okay.
“Eggs and bacon. More than should be humanly possible.”
He laughs, and wraps his arms around her waist, swinging her round the kitchen.
“But, my dear - I am not human, and it IS possible”.
She rolls her eyes and swats him to be put down. He complies.
“We have to get a move on early today.”
He murmurs between mouthfuls of bacon, “Why, what’s the rush”.
“It’s the thirty-first. We have places to be.”
“Like…”
“Just hurry up and eat.”
---
On the road they have the wind in their hair, and they both grin, riding side by side, only an arms length apart. The road is theirs, and the world is for the taking, and in this moment, they are ready.
It’s a surprise when she turns off the road.
“Follow me” she calls back.
“I’ve followed you my whole life!” (I want to run beside)
He bites back his words.
She disappears under clouds of green.
---
They emerge, standing in a large, square, gravel pit. It looks as though it’s been deserted for years - a parking lot for ghosts. She grabs his hand and drags him along, grinning wide and spinning; letting her hair fan around her and dancing to music he think he can almost hear. She has this look in her eyes; the ‘it’s beautiful, isn’t it?’ look, and for once in his life, he thinks he is going to agree.
It’s empty; swimming of nothing, and he likes that. It’s full of possibilities.
“It’s not empty,” she murmurs, echoing his thoughts, “it’s just not full”.
Her fingers reach out and point towards several things at once, and he spins around to see them all; a candy bar, and old couch and a large movie screen.
“What is this place, anyway?”
His voice is full of amazement and wonder, and she flips around to look at him, a coy smile gracing her lips. “Beautiful”.
He nods, but repeats himself, curiosity lacing his tongue.
“What is this place, anyway?”
“Ours”
He doesn’t think to question it this time.
---
They’re fanned out across the ground, a mass of limbs and food and hair and bottles. The lounge is somewhere underneath them, and they are staring up towards the movie screen.
The blank movie screen.
“Okay, okay, if you were in a movie - who would play you?” the half empty bottle of champagne is hanging loosely in her hand and she’s swinging it hypnotically across his face.
“Steven Strait”.
“Steven Strait? Who the heck is he?”
“Oh, you know, he’s the regular Snape of Sky High, and the hot one in The Covenant”.
“Oh, right, he was pretty sweet - too chiselled for you though”.
“Hey, watch it! Just because you’re practically drunk doesn’t mean I’ll let you get away with that”.
“Speaking of being drunk, won’t you have just a little?”
“No. Someone has to be the responsible one here.”
“Oh please, I left responsibility back in Forks. Come on, one little drink, it’s quite good”.
Her tongue slips over her lips slowly, as if to savour the taste, and he sighs, defeated, his eyes not leaving her face as he grabs the bottle from her, and takes a swig.
“You jump, I jump Jack, that’s how it goes isn’t it?”
“Something like that, but it’s Bella, not Jack”.
---
“We need a fire”.
The sun had disappeared and the night air had begun to creep in on them, it’s presence not entirely out of place.
“YES! It’ll be a beach bonfire…”
“In a parking lot.” He looks at her like he’s crazy, she shrugs.
“This is no parking lot… this is a drive-thru movie.” Reverse, quickly now.
“Oh, I apologise queen of the ghost-towns.”
“Ghost towns! Tell me a ghost story Jake”.
“We need a fire first”.
“FIRE! It’ll be a beach bonfire… in a parking lot”.
“I’m getting an odd sense of deja-vu here”.
“Well, tell it to go away. This is a private party”.
“Yes love”.
[Total so far: two bottles and still counting.]
---
“Jake?”
“Mhmm?”
The stars are bright above them, their heads are touching, backs flat and they watch them, smiling. For the first time since she ran away, he is at peace.
“Will you kiss me?”
He sits up slowly, and she mirrors him, his eyes are full of worry, masked in a fleeting cover of drunk. She watches him and smiles, taking his hand in her own.
“I mean it Jake. I want it.”
He nods, and raises her hand to his lips, kissing it softly.
She sighs but understands.
---
Ten.
(tick. tock. tick. tock.)
---
She’s spinning (spinning, spinning, spinning, spinning, spinning). She’s spinning even when she’s sitting still, and it hurts. Her head is on fire, and her throat burns (the vodka’s all that’s left) but she’s smiling because she’s spinning. And the world won’t let her fall.
He thinks it’s odd - now when he can hardly stand she can walk freely. He stumbles and she stands tall.
He wonders when it changed like that, at which point; when they reversed. Mostly he wonders why he didn’t notice.
But she’s beautiful when she’s spinning.
She’s at home here in the world of concrete and grey.
He just wishes he belonged too.
---
Nine.
(tick. tock. tick. tock.)
---
“WHAT WOULD YOU THINK IF I SANG OUT OF TUNE? WOULD YOU STAND UP AND WALK OUT ON ME?”
He’s practically screaming and she laughs in delight, happy for someone who sings so deliciously bad. It’s music to her ears.
“LEND ME YOUR EARS AND I’LL SING YOU A SONG AND I’LL TRY NOT TO SING OUT OF KEY”
“OH I GET BY WITH A LALALA FRIENDS”
“Little help from”
“Little help from who? And more importantly, little help with what? Because last time I checked, you were the one that needed help not me”.
“Little help with what? I’m fine last time I checked”.
She stares suggestively first at his face and then towards his groin. His mouth falls a little ‘o’ in surprise, and he looks away.
“You wouldn’t know anything”.
“You talk in your sleep”.
The red does look rather funny when it creeps onto his face - it’s more at home on hers.
“They’re just dreams Bella”.
“For now. But wish hard enough and it could come true”.
He bites his lip hard, just not hard enough to bleed.
---
Eight.
(tick. tock. tick. tock.)
---
“Jake?”
“Mhmm?”
They’re standing side by side on the asphalt, fingers interlocked - a pinkie promise of all things. [I’ll be here forever]
“Will you kiss me?”
He looks at her, brow furrowed in frustration.
“I mean it Jake. I want it.”
He sighs but nods and leans down, placing a kiss on her forehead.
She glares but she can almost understand.
---
Seven.
(tick. tock. tick. tock.)
---
“DO YOU NEED ANYBODY?”
He doesn’t even notice at first - he’s dancing and singing, but he turns around and she’s in front of him, and close, and oh God, she’s got her hands on his arms and that look in her eyes.
It’s barely a whisper.
“I need somebody to love”.
His gulp resounds amongst the night air. There’s something like crickets in the background.
“C…Could it be any… anybody?”
His voice is husky and she takes his hand in her own, gesturing towards the couch.
“I want somebody to love”.
“Bella” he’s surprised by the seriousness his tone portrays.
He’s even more surprised by what she suggests.
“I get by with a little help from my friends”.
“I’m not that kind of friend”.
“No, maybe not, but don’t you think you could be?”
---
Six.
(tick. tock. tick. tock.)
---
They finally got a fire going, and they snuggle up together, hand in hand beside it. His hand plays lazily with her hair, she smiles and he whispers ghost stories as they gaze into the fire.
She listens about treaties and dead people’s lives and fingers a wolf and a cold diamond heart, clasped to a bracelet around her wrist.
She sighs softly and looks at him, her eyes asking.
He kisses her hair softly and pulls her closer.
She doesn’t understand this time.
---
Five.
(tick. tock. tick. tock.)
---
“Do you think there is a heaven?”
He turns to look at her, fire crackling softly in the background.
“I think if there isn’t one for you, then there isn’t one for anyone”
She nods slowly and turns away, but he puts his hand under her chin and turns her back to face him.
“I guess what I really meant to say Bells, is, would it be too cliché if I told you heaven is right here in your arms?”
His goofy smile reappears and she hits him.
“You know, I didn’t pin you as one for S&M”
She laughs and leans forward, nipping at his ear.
“Oh boy, you have no idea”.
---
Four.
(tick. tock. tick. tock.)
---
“Dance with me?”
It’s awkward and it’s slow, but it’s beautiful and it’s real. There is no music, but as they close there eyes and she rests her head against his chest, their hearts beat as one.
That, she supposes, is good enough.
---
Three.
(tick. tock. tick. tock.)
---
“What’s this place called again?”
“Ours” his voice is husky and she smiles, looking towards the brightest star.
“I need you to remember that”.
He wants to tell her; I will, how could I forget.
He wants to tell question; I will, but why?
But mostly he wants to treasure the moment. He stays silent.
---
Two.
(tick. tock. tick. tock.)
---
“It’s almost time”
Her watch is blinking accusingly at them, and they smile, eyes flickering to and fro, from the watch’s fluorescence to each other’s eyes.
There’s an odd sort of comfort in both.
“There’s no one else here” her voice is small, a whisper - he’s grown accustomed to it as of late. “This New Years is ours”.
He smiles and squeezes her hand.
“Always”.
---
One.
(tick. tock. tick. tock.)
---
The clock flashes; 00:00 and he looks at her, she begins to mouth it; ‘Happy New Year’, but she never finishes. His lips are against hers before she can think of what comes next.
She kisses back without regret because this time she didn’t have to ask.
---
Happy New Year
---
They are slow and gentle, but their kisses are fervent as their fingers slip over blank canvas and they sink back, back, back against the gravel, air seeming meaningless - finding their strength, their life in one another’s kisses.
The first time they taste each other there are fireworks - somewhere in the distance - they do not notice.
---
They lie together, bodies, hearts, souls intertwined in the one place that they are free, their voices join together as one in an off-key melody that isn’t perfect but is them.
‘Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and auld lang syne?’
Neither dares to break their melody to find out.
---
On the road they have the wind in their hair, and they both grin, riding side by side, only an arms length apart. The road is theirs, and the world is for the taking, and in this moment, they are ready.
He’s not surprised when she turns off the road at a fork he remembers well.
She doesn’t call out to him but he keeps riding anyway, beside her, just an arms length apart. The road is there’s for another mile until the other path joins theirs.
She doesn’t say sorry, or goodbye this time - the rain drowns out her words.
This time, he knows he understands.
---
In the last few weeks Jacob Black has been surprised by a lot of things, the first of which being finding Bella Swan on his back doorstep on Christmas day.
He’s been surprised by a lot of things, but looking back, mostly he’s surprised that he followed her. Not regretful, just surprised - he’d thought he’d had himself figured out after all.
He’ll realise, with time that Bella Swan just knew how to change all that.
It’s quite simple really:
Two parts vodka.
One part her.
Fin.
Author:autumn_scarlet
Rating: PG 13+ for sexual references and alcohol.
Spoilers: None, pretty AU really.
Warnings: Sexual references and alcohol.
Pairing (if any): Jacob/Bella and hints of Bella/Edward
Summary: After running away from Edward on Christmas day, Bella turns up on Jacob's back step and the two run away together.
A/N:This is for the Jacob/Bella Holiday Fic Exchange. This is for edwardscupcake; I hope you know that I had a lot of fun with this one, and I hope you like it too. She asked for kissing (lots of it), drunkenness and dirtiness. Each weaved it's way into the story, and I know you didn't want angst or sadness, but I can't help it with J/B, but they're happy, they are, really. Oh, and song title from a Damien Rice song - Volcano. One more note - this is part 2/3 and the others will be posted within the next few days, however, each can exist as a standalone piece - their conclusions will make more sense in the final piece though.
She’s the picture of innocence sitting on his back step - knees tucked up towards her, eyes wide, watching him. Innocence that makes him want to forget why he’s angry, forget that it hurts, forget everything and just pull her close and crush his lips against hers. It would be as if this single act would wipe it from her eyes but really, it fucking hurts, and it laces every breath he takes and every glance she gives away.
But she’s safe, and here, and that almost takes away the sting.
It is almost a shame that his protective side kick-starts - he almost kicks himself when he speaks. (Their life, he comes to realise, is just a carefully constructed string of almost's. She'll later insist there is nothing careful about it).
“Isabella Swan - where have you bee-”
“You’re dirty”
He blinks. Once. Twice. (The third time's the charm) and she stifles back a laugh - the way she looks at him, he feels as though really, she is the oldest one after all.
It takes a moment (or two, or three) for him to find himself again long enough to take in the situation and remember where he's been.
"Well, of course I'm dirty, I'm been racing through the woods - the muddy woods - for hours looking for you".
She bites her lip, and looks around, "I should go..." [you can almost see the world crash in on her]
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." (What he really means is he didn't mean to make her smile falter). "Look, Bells, why don't we... we need to get out of the rain".
She nods, and that smile creeps back onto her face - he lets out a sigh of relief - "You really are dirty".
He doesn't know why he says it, doesn't know why the thought even crosses his mind (Yes, yes he does).
"You haven't seen anything yet".
---
"What day is it?" her murmur is soft, only just audible over the crackle of the fire. She surprises him. To him the wild abandonment in her eyes - the lack of presence - was just a disguise, just a dreadfully beautiful disguise.
[If only he knew]
He doesn't like the foul taste her words leave in the air but the way she looks tells him not to question them. (her)
"It's Christmas Bella - Happy Christmas".
There's only a whisper of reply, a faint coming together of 'you' and too', so faint he almost misses it (there's that word again).
Moments pass - they just stare at the fire, next to one another, but the distance between them, - the enveloping gap - like a black hole, pulling everything down, down, down is too much for him.
Silences have always made him want to scream.
"Look, Bells, I don't know why you ran away from him, or why, after hours, you ended up on my back step, but maybe..."
The fire that springs to her eyes makes him almost glad he said something.
"But maybe nothing Jacob. Okay, fine, I ran away, I came here. I thought maybe there would be comfort here, maybe that you'd understand. I guess I was wrong. God knows I've been wrong before."
She's alive again, and it breaks his heart.
"Bells, come on, don't be like that, I'm just trying to understand..."
"I want you to, I do... but I can't explain it to you. If it's too hard... I'll just go."
His hand on her shoulder stops her. "No, don't go, please."
She's silent for a moment. He drinks it in - for once afraid of sound.
When her voice comes, it is small, weak, helpless. He wants to hold her.
"Come away with me?"
He wants to hold her. Instead, he says yes.
---
The bikes roar startles her, and she jumps, much to his amusement. He's laughing hard, and she hits him, just as hard.
"Aren't you ever going to realise those puny hands do nothing to this mythological creature."
She stares pointedly. He laughs triumphantly.
"Not yet. But later, you'll change your tune pretty quick".
She's a mix of eyebrows raised, and suggestive looks. His laughter dies as quick as it begun.
She just smirks, and swings one leg over her bike.
"Come on Jake, let’s ride".
He would never admit it, but she's making him nervous.
[Lose five years for sweaty palms and lack of comebacks]
But they wont say that part out loud.
---
The air is heavy and it doesn't smell like home. He wants to ask her where they are going, really, he does, but she's stubborn and secretive. He supposes her ability to keep those secrets is why they both love her so much.
She veers off the road towards a small weather-worn shop and signals for him to follow.
"No, not why, just a part of it, really".
"What was that?" she flips around to question him, one hand on the door.
"Nothing, just talking to myself".
"Honestly, am I the only normal one here?"
She leaves the question hanging in the air, and as she stumbles up the two stairs, it's answered.
He's just too nice to point it out to her; instead he asks what they are doing here.
"Provisions of course - my shout".
He can't argue with that.
They step inside - his head brushes the ceiling, and it smells of age and bikers. She lights up - he knows that this is one of those odd things she'll find beautiful. He doesn't want to understand why.
"Okay, we need marshmallow, chocolate - make that lots of chocolate, and anything else you're going to need to eat."
He opens his mouth to question, but shuts it as she begins piling bags of packaged food into his arms while also digging around for a basket - he marvels at her skill to multi-task. He's surprised there is one, but this being the only store they've passed in a while, albeit disgusting, he supposes it makes sense. She returns to him, basket already half full and he laughs, dumping the contents of his arms in there as well.
"Keep going" she ushers, and disappears towards the back.
His laughter ringing, he keeps piling bags of chips, and lollies, and chocolate into the basket and wonders where abouts the real Bella Swan disappeared to.
He begins to head towards the counter certain they have enough when he hears her call from the back of the store.
"Okay, coming."
He can see the top of her head over an over-packed isle and begins to walk towards her. Her back is turned away from him, and he sighs, tasting trouble in the air.
"What is it Bella?”
She turns towards him, another basket between her hands filled with an assortment of alcoholic beverages.
He raises his eyebrow, in the way he's almost perfected.
"Don't even start - it's New Year's Eve soon, we're going to celebrate in style. And anyway, we're only young once. Now, I have to slip off to the ladies, so take this and go pay. And no, don't look at me like that - it won't work. Money's in the wallet on the top - bye-bye love, see you soon".
She blows him a kiss, and he offers her a low grumble in return.
Jacob Black has wondered a lot of things in the last few hours, but mostly he wonders at what point in time did Bella manage to wrap him around her little finger. He would like to go back to that moment in time and slap himself in the face.
But unfortunately, he can't.
So he just buys the booze instead.
You ask, I jump and all that.
Sad little lovesick puppy.
---
The nights pass quickly - they slip in and out of cheap motels, smelling of stale beer and sleeping on old sex.
They don’t mind really, they lose count of the days, of the nights.
It’s just numbers and letters - just parts of the whole that is them.
And in the end, there are more important things.
They are only half surprised when the thirty-first creeps up on them.
---
“What’s for breakfast?”
He’s half asleep, neck sore from a too-small bed, but his smile takes away any guilt, and her cooking makes it all okay.
“Eggs and bacon. More than should be humanly possible.”
He laughs, and wraps his arms around her waist, swinging her round the kitchen.
“But, my dear - I am not human, and it IS possible”.
She rolls her eyes and swats him to be put down. He complies.
“We have to get a move on early today.”
He murmurs between mouthfuls of bacon, “Why, what’s the rush”.
“It’s the thirty-first. We have places to be.”
“Like…”
“Just hurry up and eat.”
---
On the road they have the wind in their hair, and they both grin, riding side by side, only an arms length apart. The road is theirs, and the world is for the taking, and in this moment, they are ready.
It’s a surprise when she turns off the road.
“Follow me” she calls back.
“I’ve followed you my whole life!” (I want to run beside)
He bites back his words.
She disappears under clouds of green.
---
They emerge, standing in a large, square, gravel pit. It looks as though it’s been deserted for years - a parking lot for ghosts. She grabs his hand and drags him along, grinning wide and spinning; letting her hair fan around her and dancing to music he think he can almost hear. She has this look in her eyes; the ‘it’s beautiful, isn’t it?’ look, and for once in his life, he thinks he is going to agree.
It’s empty; swimming of nothing, and he likes that. It’s full of possibilities.
“It’s not empty,” she murmurs, echoing his thoughts, “it’s just not full”.
Her fingers reach out and point towards several things at once, and he spins around to see them all; a candy bar, and old couch and a large movie screen.
“What is this place, anyway?”
His voice is full of amazement and wonder, and she flips around to look at him, a coy smile gracing her lips. “Beautiful”.
He nods, but repeats himself, curiosity lacing his tongue.
“What is this place, anyway?”
“Ours”
He doesn’t think to question it this time.
---
They’re fanned out across the ground, a mass of limbs and food and hair and bottles. The lounge is somewhere underneath them, and they are staring up towards the movie screen.
The blank movie screen.
“Okay, okay, if you were in a movie - who would play you?” the half empty bottle of champagne is hanging loosely in her hand and she’s swinging it hypnotically across his face.
“Steven Strait”.
“Steven Strait? Who the heck is he?”
“Oh, you know, he’s the regular Snape of Sky High, and the hot one in The Covenant”.
“Oh, right, he was pretty sweet - too chiselled for you though”.
“Hey, watch it! Just because you’re practically drunk doesn’t mean I’ll let you get away with that”.
“Speaking of being drunk, won’t you have just a little?”
“No. Someone has to be the responsible one here.”
“Oh please, I left responsibility back in Forks. Come on, one little drink, it’s quite good”.
Her tongue slips over her lips slowly, as if to savour the taste, and he sighs, defeated, his eyes not leaving her face as he grabs the bottle from her, and takes a swig.
“You jump, I jump Jack, that’s how it goes isn’t it?”
“Something like that, but it’s Bella, not Jack”.
---
“We need a fire”.
The sun had disappeared and the night air had begun to creep in on them, it’s presence not entirely out of place.
“YES! It’ll be a beach bonfire…”
“In a parking lot.” He looks at her like he’s crazy, she shrugs.
“This is no parking lot… this is a drive-thru movie.” Reverse, quickly now.
“Oh, I apologise queen of the ghost-towns.”
“Ghost towns! Tell me a ghost story Jake”.
“We need a fire first”.
“FIRE! It’ll be a beach bonfire… in a parking lot”.
“I’m getting an odd sense of deja-vu here”.
“Well, tell it to go away. This is a private party”.
“Yes love”.
[Total so far: two bottles and still counting.]
---
“Jake?”
“Mhmm?”
The stars are bright above them, their heads are touching, backs flat and they watch them, smiling. For the first time since she ran away, he is at peace.
“Will you kiss me?”
He sits up slowly, and she mirrors him, his eyes are full of worry, masked in a fleeting cover of drunk. She watches him and smiles, taking his hand in her own.
“I mean it Jake. I want it.”
He nods, and raises her hand to his lips, kissing it softly.
She sighs but understands.
---
Ten.
(tick. tock. tick. tock.)
---
She’s spinning (spinning, spinning, spinning, spinning, spinning). She’s spinning even when she’s sitting still, and it hurts. Her head is on fire, and her throat burns (the vodka’s all that’s left) but she’s smiling because she’s spinning. And the world won’t let her fall.
He thinks it’s odd - now when he can hardly stand she can walk freely. He stumbles and she stands tall.
He wonders when it changed like that, at which point; when they reversed. Mostly he wonders why he didn’t notice.
But she’s beautiful when she’s spinning.
She’s at home here in the world of concrete and grey.
He just wishes he belonged too.
---
Nine.
(tick. tock. tick. tock.)
---
“WHAT WOULD YOU THINK IF I SANG OUT OF TUNE? WOULD YOU STAND UP AND WALK OUT ON ME?”
He’s practically screaming and she laughs in delight, happy for someone who sings so deliciously bad. It’s music to her ears.
“LEND ME YOUR EARS AND I’LL SING YOU A SONG AND I’LL TRY NOT TO SING OUT OF KEY”
“OH I GET BY WITH A LALALA FRIENDS”
“Little help from”
“Little help from who? And more importantly, little help with what? Because last time I checked, you were the one that needed help not me”.
“Little help with what? I’m fine last time I checked”.
She stares suggestively first at his face and then towards his groin. His mouth falls a little ‘o’ in surprise, and he looks away.
“You wouldn’t know anything”.
“You talk in your sleep”.
The red does look rather funny when it creeps onto his face - it’s more at home on hers.
“They’re just dreams Bella”.
“For now. But wish hard enough and it could come true”.
He bites his lip hard, just not hard enough to bleed.
---
Eight.
(tick. tock. tick. tock.)
---
“Jake?”
“Mhmm?”
They’re standing side by side on the asphalt, fingers interlocked - a pinkie promise of all things. [I’ll be here forever]
“Will you kiss me?”
He looks at her, brow furrowed in frustration.
“I mean it Jake. I want it.”
He sighs but nods and leans down, placing a kiss on her forehead.
She glares but she can almost understand.
---
Seven.
(tick. tock. tick. tock.)
---
“DO YOU NEED ANYBODY?”
He doesn’t even notice at first - he’s dancing and singing, but he turns around and she’s in front of him, and close, and oh God, she’s got her hands on his arms and that look in her eyes.
It’s barely a whisper.
“I need somebody to love”.
His gulp resounds amongst the night air. There’s something like crickets in the background.
“C…Could it be any… anybody?”
His voice is husky and she takes his hand in her own, gesturing towards the couch.
“I want somebody to love”.
“Bella” he’s surprised by the seriousness his tone portrays.
He’s even more surprised by what she suggests.
“I get by with a little help from my friends”.
“I’m not that kind of friend”.
“No, maybe not, but don’t you think you could be?”
---
Six.
(tick. tock. tick. tock.)
---
They finally got a fire going, and they snuggle up together, hand in hand beside it. His hand plays lazily with her hair, she smiles and he whispers ghost stories as they gaze into the fire.
She listens about treaties and dead people’s lives and fingers a wolf and a cold diamond heart, clasped to a bracelet around her wrist.
She sighs softly and looks at him, her eyes asking.
He kisses her hair softly and pulls her closer.
She doesn’t understand this time.
---
Five.
(tick. tock. tick. tock.)
---
“Do you think there is a heaven?”
He turns to look at her, fire crackling softly in the background.
“I think if there isn’t one for you, then there isn’t one for anyone”
She nods slowly and turns away, but he puts his hand under her chin and turns her back to face him.
“I guess what I really meant to say Bells, is, would it be too cliché if I told you heaven is right here in your arms?”
His goofy smile reappears and she hits him.
“You know, I didn’t pin you as one for S&M”
She laughs and leans forward, nipping at his ear.
“Oh boy, you have no idea”.
---
Four.
(tick. tock. tick. tock.)
---
“Dance with me?”
It’s awkward and it’s slow, but it’s beautiful and it’s real. There is no music, but as they close there eyes and she rests her head against his chest, their hearts beat as one.
That, she supposes, is good enough.
---
Three.
(tick. tock. tick. tock.)
---
“What’s this place called again?”
“Ours” his voice is husky and she smiles, looking towards the brightest star.
“I need you to remember that”.
He wants to tell her; I will, how could I forget.
He wants to tell question; I will, but why?
But mostly he wants to treasure the moment. He stays silent.
---
Two.
(tick. tock. tick. tock.)
---
“It’s almost time”
Her watch is blinking accusingly at them, and they smile, eyes flickering to and fro, from the watch’s fluorescence to each other’s eyes.
There’s an odd sort of comfort in both.
“There’s no one else here” her voice is small, a whisper - he’s grown accustomed to it as of late. “This New Years is ours”.
He smiles and squeezes her hand.
“Always”.
---
One.
(tick. tock. tick. tock.)
---
The clock flashes; 00:00 and he looks at her, she begins to mouth it; ‘Happy New Year’, but she never finishes. His lips are against hers before she can think of what comes next.
She kisses back without regret because this time she didn’t have to ask.
---
Happy New Year
---
They are slow and gentle, but their kisses are fervent as their fingers slip over blank canvas and they sink back, back, back against the gravel, air seeming meaningless - finding their strength, their life in one another’s kisses.
The first time they taste each other there are fireworks - somewhere in the distance - they do not notice.
---
They lie together, bodies, hearts, souls intertwined in the one place that they are free, their voices join together as one in an off-key melody that isn’t perfect but is them.
‘Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and auld lang syne?’
Neither dares to break their melody to find out.
---
On the road they have the wind in their hair, and they both grin, riding side by side, only an arms length apart. The road is theirs, and the world is for the taking, and in this moment, they are ready.
He’s not surprised when she turns off the road at a fork he remembers well.
She doesn’t call out to him but he keeps riding anyway, beside her, just an arms length apart. The road is there’s for another mile until the other path joins theirs.
She doesn’t say sorry, or goodbye this time - the rain drowns out her words.
This time, he knows he understands.
---
In the last few weeks Jacob Black has been surprised by a lot of things, the first of which being finding Bella Swan on his back doorstep on Christmas day.
He’s been surprised by a lot of things, but looking back, mostly he’s surprised that he followed her. Not regretful, just surprised - he’d thought he’d had himself figured out after all.
He’ll realise, with time that Bella Swan just knew how to change all that.
It’s quite simple really:
Two parts vodka.
One part her.
Fin.