Twilight // morally correct and psychologically stable (Edward/Jacob, soft R)
morally correct and psychologically stable
Twilight, Edward/Jacob, soft R. ~1300 words.
Notes: For kaiwynn's Twilight Uncanon Drabble-a-thon. Clearly, I fail at keeping things short.
*
He’s not going to forgo the treaty and step on puppy land, but he figures, if he stays at his side of the border, at least one of the wolves will catch his smell. He doesn’t really trust their abilities all that much, but Jacob’s been around him, he should be able to recognize the scent.
Bella’s down visiting Renée, sound asleep in her bedroom there, and Edward would probably keep bothering Alice about her if it wasn’t for how she’s not even here at all.
It doesn’t bug him. Not really. She’s hunting, she has to hunt, and while she hunts, her mind’s pretty much filled with images of bloody deer running through the forest. It’s useless, and it doesn’t bug him at all. It makes him just a tad hungrier, but at least that’s something Emmett can’t call him on, because Emmett’s hungry all the time.
And he’s got Rosalie secured. She’s a fucking vampire, she can take care of herself. It’s not Edward’s fault he made himself fall for a human. One less capable than most. Emmett probably hasn’t noticed, as busy as he is with mauling bears and finding new wacky ways to propose to Rosalie, but most vampires aren’t exactly sane, and, if there’s one thing he takes pride in, it’s being mentally stable, for the most part.
He has morals.
“Sure you do.”
And there’s Jacob Black, and his hair is a lot longer than it was the last time Edward saw him. He doesn’t visit much, but it’s only been a couple of months since the last time he came across him.
He restrains the urge to call him a bitch. They can fight later.
“Sure I do what?”
“Sure you have morals,” Jacob explains, and Edward’s a bit taken aback, because that’s what he was thinking. “You were rumbling out loud.” Oh, that.
“Do you think I’m overprotective?” he jumps in, and he should probably have anticipated Jacob’s reaction.
“What?”
“With Bella. You love her, don’t you? You’d be as worried as I am, right?”
“I am as worried as you are,” Jacob clears. “Just because she won’t let me take care of her doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”
“So you’d bug your psychic sister for details.”
“I’d go down and keep an eye on her myself.” Edward snorts.
“Even if she expressly asked you not to.”
“So what?” Jacob snaps. “Trouble follows her around, it’s only natural that you would too.”
Edward lets the last remark pass. “Yeah, well, I don’t want her to leave me and go back to you, particularly knowing that you’re even worse than me.”
There’s a moment of silence where Jacob raises an eyebrow and Edward wonders again what the hell possessed him to ask a wolf about this. They’re canines, they’re naturally overbearing. They’re not the most rational axis to measure one’s instincts by.
Finally, he settles on, “She’s just really prone to accidents,” and Jacob seems to smile compassionately for a second, before his mouth shapes into an unpleasant leer.
“And to having leeches stalking her.”
“Don’t forget the puppies,” he spits back, and adds, “God, you’re useless.”
“I think you’re missing one very important bit here.” Edward gestures for him to go on. “I’m not your therapist.”
“But you love Bella,” Edward says, as if it explained everything.
“Exactly.” And yeah, okay, maybe asking the wolf was not only idiotic as an idea, but also a very self-absorbed one. “Besides, you have a doctor in the coven. And a pseudo-brother who can mingle with your feelings. And they won’t judge you, because they’re so pure and good in their hearts,” and he’s sneering at that, but it’s the kind of thing Edward’s learned to expect from him. If Jacob wasn’t Jacob, he’d probably think he deserved that one.
Jacob is Jacob, though, and his first instinct is punching the smirk off his face. He doesn’t care what a dog thinks of him, but he doesn’t appreciate assholes insulting his family.
Jacob punches right back, and Edward really didn’t come here to fight. The thought may have crossed his mind, but Alice could testify that it was never an intention.
Well, she could if she wasn’t hunting and ignoring him, but it stands as a metaphor.
It takes them about three more punches to stumble onto the concrete, and ten seconds of rolling for Jacob to pin him against the ground and prepare to throw another punch. It’s ridiculous, because Edward’s stronger than a fucking dog, but he’s not feeling very graceful today. It must be all that worry.
Thing is, Jacob’s fist is angling to hit his teeth, and he looks like he’s really invested in it, and, if there’s one thing Edward wants even less than having Bella get hurt, that’s becoming a Guinea pig for one of Carlisle’s medical experiments again, at least as long as Carlisle keeps thinking that glue, or whatever that paste was, may be a good substitute for bone surgery.
So he has to avoid that while practically limbless, and the first thing that comes to mind is, well.
He leans up on his left hand and kisses him.
It isn’t so much a kiss as a clashing of mouths, but the angle’s all wrong, and Edward doesn’t have much freedom of movement, so he figures it counts. At any rate, Jacob freezes on the spot, so it does serve its purpose.
It’s a few seconds before Jacob gains enough consciousness to snort against Edward’s mouth.
“So you’re not just a leech, you’re also a closeted fag,” he murmurs, and it doesn’t sound insulting, which Edward finds rather surprising. It actually sounds like he’s considering, or savoring the idea of holding something over him, even though the kiss wasn’t even meant like that.
Then Jacob bites his lower lip and, no, it doesn’t exactly hurt as he thought Jacob would mean it to. Instead, Edward leans back on the ground, his head hitting the cold floor, and Jacob’s face follows his, and then he’s not sure whose mouth is looking for whose, but they find each other, which is the important part; and, somewhere between kisses that feel a little like Jacob’s attacking his mouth, Jacob’s tongue parts his lips and slides in, and Edward notices the way Jacob’s chest is moving up and down, alive and beating against his own, and how Jacob’s half-hard against his thigh, and that’s the one thing that makes his hips buck up against Jacob, give him a hint that his dick’s responding to this too, a cue of sorts for Jacob to go farther, since Edward’s the one pinned to the ground and Jacob doesn’t seem willing to let go.
It’s not a cue for Jacob, though, but an accidental warning, and then Jacob’s spitting Fucking leech and faggot and other assorted insults at him and gone and Edward remembers that Jacob’s not even legal, technically, and, even if he looks older than he is, he’s not mature enough for this, not mature enough for - for sex or for caving into an instinct and fuck, Edward does have morals. That was the whole point of talking to Jacob, he has morals, and he figures he should be using them now.
At any rate, he’s not about to forgo the treaty and step on puppy land, and then he’s back to worrying about Bella and that seems enough to avoid the guilt trip his own mind is threatening him with.
Twilight, Edward/Jacob, soft R. ~1300 words.
Notes: For kaiwynn's Twilight Uncanon Drabble-a-thon. Clearly, I fail at keeping things short.
*
He’s not going to forgo the treaty and step on puppy land, but he figures, if he stays at his side of the border, at least one of the wolves will catch his smell. He doesn’t really trust their abilities all that much, but Jacob’s been around him, he should be able to recognize the scent.
Bella’s down visiting Renée, sound asleep in her bedroom there, and Edward would probably keep bothering Alice about her if it wasn’t for how she’s not even here at all.
It doesn’t bug him. Not really. She’s hunting, she has to hunt, and while she hunts, her mind’s pretty much filled with images of bloody deer running through the forest. It’s useless, and it doesn’t bug him at all. It makes him just a tad hungrier, but at least that’s something Emmett can’t call him on, because Emmett’s hungry all the time.
And he’s got Rosalie secured. She’s a fucking vampire, she can take care of herself. It’s not Edward’s fault he made himself fall for a human. One less capable than most. Emmett probably hasn’t noticed, as busy as he is with mauling bears and finding new wacky ways to propose to Rosalie, but most vampires aren’t exactly sane, and, if there’s one thing he takes pride in, it’s being mentally stable, for the most part.
He has morals.
“Sure you do.”
And there’s Jacob Black, and his hair is a lot longer than it was the last time Edward saw him. He doesn’t visit much, but it’s only been a couple of months since the last time he came across him.
He restrains the urge to call him a bitch. They can fight later.
“Sure I do what?”
“Sure you have morals,” Jacob explains, and Edward’s a bit taken aback, because that’s what he was thinking. “You were rumbling out loud.” Oh, that.
“Do you think I’m overprotective?” he jumps in, and he should probably have anticipated Jacob’s reaction.
“What?”
“With Bella. You love her, don’t you? You’d be as worried as I am, right?”
“I am as worried as you are,” Jacob clears. “Just because she won’t let me take care of her doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”
“So you’d bug your psychic sister for details.”
“I’d go down and keep an eye on her myself.” Edward snorts.
“Even if she expressly asked you not to.”
“So what?” Jacob snaps. “Trouble follows her around, it’s only natural that you would too.”
Edward lets the last remark pass. “Yeah, well, I don’t want her to leave me and go back to you, particularly knowing that you’re even worse than me.”
There’s a moment of silence where Jacob raises an eyebrow and Edward wonders again what the hell possessed him to ask a wolf about this. They’re canines, they’re naturally overbearing. They’re not the most rational axis to measure one’s instincts by.
Finally, he settles on, “She’s just really prone to accidents,” and Jacob seems to smile compassionately for a second, before his mouth shapes into an unpleasant leer.
“And to having leeches stalking her.”
“Don’t forget the puppies,” he spits back, and adds, “God, you’re useless.”
“I think you’re missing one very important bit here.” Edward gestures for him to go on. “I’m not your therapist.”
“But you love Bella,” Edward says, as if it explained everything.
“Exactly.” And yeah, okay, maybe asking the wolf was not only idiotic as an idea, but also a very self-absorbed one. “Besides, you have a doctor in the coven. And a pseudo-brother who can mingle with your feelings. And they won’t judge you, because they’re so pure and good in their hearts,” and he’s sneering at that, but it’s the kind of thing Edward’s learned to expect from him. If Jacob wasn’t Jacob, he’d probably think he deserved that one.
Jacob is Jacob, though, and his first instinct is punching the smirk off his face. He doesn’t care what a dog thinks of him, but he doesn’t appreciate assholes insulting his family.
Jacob punches right back, and Edward really didn’t come here to fight. The thought may have crossed his mind, but Alice could testify that it was never an intention.
Well, she could if she wasn’t hunting and ignoring him, but it stands as a metaphor.
It takes them about three more punches to stumble onto the concrete, and ten seconds of rolling for Jacob to pin him against the ground and prepare to throw another punch. It’s ridiculous, because Edward’s stronger than a fucking dog, but he’s not feeling very graceful today. It must be all that worry.
Thing is, Jacob’s fist is angling to hit his teeth, and he looks like he’s really invested in it, and, if there’s one thing Edward wants even less than having Bella get hurt, that’s becoming a Guinea pig for one of Carlisle’s medical experiments again, at least as long as Carlisle keeps thinking that glue, or whatever that paste was, may be a good substitute for bone surgery.
So he has to avoid that while practically limbless, and the first thing that comes to mind is, well.
He leans up on his left hand and kisses him.
It isn’t so much a kiss as a clashing of mouths, but the angle’s all wrong, and Edward doesn’t have much freedom of movement, so he figures it counts. At any rate, Jacob freezes on the spot, so it does serve its purpose.
It’s a few seconds before Jacob gains enough consciousness to snort against Edward’s mouth.
“So you’re not just a leech, you’re also a closeted fag,” he murmurs, and it doesn’t sound insulting, which Edward finds rather surprising. It actually sounds like he’s considering, or savoring the idea of holding something over him, even though the kiss wasn’t even meant like that.
Then Jacob bites his lower lip and, no, it doesn’t exactly hurt as he thought Jacob would mean it to. Instead, Edward leans back on the ground, his head hitting the cold floor, and Jacob’s face follows his, and then he’s not sure whose mouth is looking for whose, but they find each other, which is the important part; and, somewhere between kisses that feel a little like Jacob’s attacking his mouth, Jacob’s tongue parts his lips and slides in, and Edward notices the way Jacob’s chest is moving up and down, alive and beating against his own, and how Jacob’s half-hard against his thigh, and that’s the one thing that makes his hips buck up against Jacob, give him a hint that his dick’s responding to this too, a cue of sorts for Jacob to go farther, since Edward’s the one pinned to the ground and Jacob doesn’t seem willing to let go.
It’s not a cue for Jacob, though, but an accidental warning, and then Jacob’s spitting Fucking leech and faggot and other assorted insults at him and gone and Edward remembers that Jacob’s not even legal, technically, and, even if he looks older than he is, he’s not mature enough for this, not mature enough for - for sex or for caving into an instinct and fuck, Edward does have morals. That was the whole point of talking to Jacob, he has morals, and he figures he should be using them now.
At any rate, he’s not about to forgo the treaty and step on puppy land, and then he’s back to worrying about Bella and that seems enough to avoid the guilt trip his own mind is threatening him with.