fic: twilight [edward/tanya]
Title: and when you swept me off my feet
Day/Theme: July 12 / the perfect knockout
Series: Twilight
Character/Pairing: Edward/Tanya
Rating: PG
Word Count: 580
and when you swept me off my feet
The first time he sees her, he can’t imagine a more beautiful woman.
He’s admiring the work done to the engine of a Mercedes-Benz, thinking he’d never be able to fix it up so nicely, thinking that up until now, he was under the allusion that only Rosalie was this skilled.
He hears humming and thoughts of not gaudy red leather interiors.
She walks into view. He blinks.
She’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.
Her face hasn’t quite lost the touch of adolescence, but in the high cheekbones and the pouting lips and the intelligent sparkle in her eyes, he can sense ten lifetimes of wisdom. She’s got strawberry blonde hair, frizzy and curly, falling out of two loosely bound braids that trail down her back. The lithe frame she no doubt has is hidden under a grease-strained gray tee and a too worn, too big pair of overalls. A wrench swings from her finger.
Those overalls-those overalls and that wrench and that smear of grease on her cheek-they remind him of Rosalie. But Rosalie, she never looked like this in her overalls, she never looked like this, like sexy.
Sexy. He’s never thought that about any woman before.
The startled look disappears from her face and is replaced with recognition. She smiles and he sucks in a lungful of air. She has a lovely smile.
“You must be Edward!” she says brightly, extending a hand toward him. “Irina mentioned that you and your family had arrived.”
Her voice is like, is like silk, but with none of the smoothness. It has an edge, a coarseness, a beautiful rough texture like the Olympic Mountain Range or work-worn hands. It’s a soothing, low sound; an alto to Rosalie’s soprano. Like the wind blowing through his hair when he thinks it might be whispering something to him.
She withdraws her hand slowly, and he blinks before realizing it was because he didn’t return the gesture.
“Ah…” He shakes his head, infinitesimally, before smiling at her (almost shyly). “You must be-”
Tanya, her mind supplies, and he repeats it (almost shyly).
The corners of her lips raise, a gentle little smile, and her mind tells him, What a strange young thing.
“This-this is yours?” he questions, at a loss in a situation he can’t quite understand. He gestures to the car behind him.
She nods and sidles up next to him, running her fingers protectively along the hood of the car. “Do you like cars, Edward?” she asks, and her eyes catch his.
He forces himself to answer. “They’re a hobby of mine. But I’m nothing compared to Rosalie….”
She laughs. “I’ve just met Rosalie. She’s quite a beautiful girl.” She pauses, and then, nonchalantly, “Are you two…?” Her eyes lock on his and he feels like she already knows.
“No.” He shakes his head. “No, of course not. Rosalie and I would hardly make a suitable pair.”
She nods and observes him for a moment, humming quietly to herself.
His brow furrows under her stare as he listens to her. The thoughts pouring from her mind are in a different language, one he has yet to learn.
Suddenly, she smiles and he’s lost again.
“You and I, Edward,” she murmurs sweetly, and rests her hand on his, “are going to be very good friends.”
His eyes widen. The way she says it makes him think that friendship isn’t the only thing she has in mind.
Day/Theme: July 12 / the perfect knockout
Series: Twilight
Character/Pairing: Edward/Tanya
Rating: PG
Word Count: 580
and when you swept me off my feet
The first time he sees her, he can’t imagine a more beautiful woman.
He’s admiring the work done to the engine of a Mercedes-Benz, thinking he’d never be able to fix it up so nicely, thinking that up until now, he was under the allusion that only Rosalie was this skilled.
He hears humming and thoughts of not gaudy red leather interiors.
She walks into view. He blinks.
She’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.
Her face hasn’t quite lost the touch of adolescence, but in the high cheekbones and the pouting lips and the intelligent sparkle in her eyes, he can sense ten lifetimes of wisdom. She’s got strawberry blonde hair, frizzy and curly, falling out of two loosely bound braids that trail down her back. The lithe frame she no doubt has is hidden under a grease-strained gray tee and a too worn, too big pair of overalls. A wrench swings from her finger.
Those overalls-those overalls and that wrench and that smear of grease on her cheek-they remind him of Rosalie. But Rosalie, she never looked like this in her overalls, she never looked like this, like sexy.
Sexy. He’s never thought that about any woman before.
The startled look disappears from her face and is replaced with recognition. She smiles and he sucks in a lungful of air. She has a lovely smile.
“You must be Edward!” she says brightly, extending a hand toward him. “Irina mentioned that you and your family had arrived.”
Her voice is like, is like silk, but with none of the smoothness. It has an edge, a coarseness, a beautiful rough texture like the Olympic Mountain Range or work-worn hands. It’s a soothing, low sound; an alto to Rosalie’s soprano. Like the wind blowing through his hair when he thinks it might be whispering something to him.
She withdraws her hand slowly, and he blinks before realizing it was because he didn’t return the gesture.
“Ah…” He shakes his head, infinitesimally, before smiling at her (almost shyly). “You must be-”
Tanya, her mind supplies, and he repeats it (almost shyly).
The corners of her lips raise, a gentle little smile, and her mind tells him, What a strange young thing.
“This-this is yours?” he questions, at a loss in a situation he can’t quite understand. He gestures to the car behind him.
She nods and sidles up next to him, running her fingers protectively along the hood of the car. “Do you like cars, Edward?” she asks, and her eyes catch his.
He forces himself to answer. “They’re a hobby of mine. But I’m nothing compared to Rosalie….”
She laughs. “I’ve just met Rosalie. She’s quite a beautiful girl.” She pauses, and then, nonchalantly, “Are you two…?” Her eyes lock on his and he feels like she already knows.
“No.” He shakes his head. “No, of course not. Rosalie and I would hardly make a suitable pair.”
She nods and observes him for a moment, humming quietly to herself.
His brow furrows under her stare as he listens to her. The thoughts pouring from her mind are in a different language, one he has yet to learn.
Suddenly, she smiles and he’s lost again.
“You and I, Edward,” she murmurs sweetly, and rests her hand on his, “are going to be very good friends.”
His eyes widen. The way she says it makes him think that friendship isn’t the only thing she has in mind.