TTE Addendum 4, PART ONE
Title: Two Thousand Eight Addendum (Part Four.One) -- yes, a two-parter. Posted below!
Author: lindseyrkrpf
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Fights and making up. Oh, and Europe.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not even the song you may recognize in the last scene.
October 2009
Vancouver, Canada
The only lights were the ones that streamed in from the city outside, busy and frantic as most are no matter the time. In fact, the time burned 2:36 in that early morning sort of way, setting heaviness on the eyelids with the dizzy disorientation that had her rubbing her face back into her pillow. She wondered what woke her up in the first place - she was used to the buzzing of traffic in the background. It was welcome to her now; it was an easy sort of noise.
She rolled over and noticed the cool sheets next to her. Those sheets were usually filled by a softly snoring man who always ended up diagonally across the bed, no matter how much she kicked her legs at him. But that man and she had said harsh words before bed, and had retired at opposite ends stewing in stony silences rather than basking in the peaceful love of bedtime.
She sighed, the hisses they had shared at each other coming back to her in full force as consciousness slowly took over. She wondered where he was, whether he was griping about her to Tom or whether he was drinking down at the hotel bar, his breath becoming sour with words or whiskey. She rubbed her hands across her face, wanting nothing more but to go back to sleep - they had to be on set in four hours.
But she let her heart pick up her feet, and let its weight drag her to him.
She didn’t have to search long. She walked through the door adjoining his room to hers, and he was sitting at the piano he had rented, hands in his hair and a pencil in his teeth. He was also completely naked but for the sheet he had stolen from her bed - her bed! - and it drooped down around the curve of his hips.
“Hi,” she said to his back, and she watched the muscles between his shoulder blades stiffen and relax. He breathed in deeply, and she read the signs. Nearly two years of friendship - a year and a half of that romantic in some form or another - told her everything she needed to know.
He was still furious at her.
“Rob…” She scratched the back of her head, unsure what to say. He usually filled in her silences with ridiculous things that got her fired up, and it at least started something - shouting, crying, talking, making out, whatever - but he was staying quiet.
“Go back to your room,” he told her flatly. “It’s late, and you need your rest.”
“I can’t sleep,” she whispered, her anchor for dreams in front of her.
“Well, I can’t talk.” He rotated his neck on his shoulders and slammed his hands down on the keys, the sudden discordant noise startling her.
“Well, you have my sheet,” she said stupidly through her teeth.
He turned and looked at her, swinging around on the bench. Then he stood, and the sheet fell into a puddle of cotton at his feet. “Come get it, then.”
Her eyes raked him involuntarily, the strong thighs, the - the, no, skip that part, Kristen - the V of his hips and the rust colored curls on his chest. He bent and picked the sheet up for her, holding it between his finger and thumb like it was distasteful for him to have.
She stepped forward and took it out of his hands, their fingers brushing. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, agonized that he would treat her so coolly.
“Good night,” he said in response, then sat back down at the piano. As she closed the door behind her, the music picked up.
She tucked herself in a sheet that smelled like him. It did not comfort her.
*
They left in separate cars the next morning, as they always did. But usually her car ride was never boring, because he would call her and chatter as he drank his weight in caffeine and ate whatever candy bar he found suitable for breakfast - lately, it had been Twix - but this morning, he did not text or call. She was starting to feel terrified. He was stubborn, but usually she was right so he conceded.
But this time, despite the fact she had screamed at him to stop being such a suspicious asshole, she knew she was wrong.
It took a couple hours to do her makeup and hair - stupid itchy wig - but then she was driven up to the set in a golf cart. She had a Styrofoam cup in her hand and she was slowly slipping the chai tea inside of it, trying to calm her nerves. She was being ridiculous - they fought often, it was a mark of their relationship. They were two intensely passionate, stubborn individuals who only loved each other more than themselves.
“Leg hitch,” someone called out to her as she walked into the warehouse they set up with various parts of the Cullen house. She grimaced, of course it was that day, the thing that everyone had been jokingly calling The Leg Hitch. It was the friskiest Edward and Bella had ever gotten, and she had been looking forward to it… until now.
Rob was already there, appearing surly and beautiful perched on the giant golden bed that was Edward’s. He looked pensive and young, with his hair flipped up from his forehead in Edward’s typical fashion. He looked over as she approached, and his eyes softened momentarily before David Slade bustled around, calling out placements and order.
Rob climbed over her, his familiar weight pressing against her thighs. They had been so tired and frustrated with life, their sex life had taken a serious toll. She felt like an old woman at nineteen, coming home and staving off advances because of a headache.
But his familiar scent around her caught her mind and heart and when he bent to kiss her, she kissed Rob back.
He was punishing her with his kiss. It bruised her mouth with its power, but she allowed herself to be swept up in it. It had been so long since they had truly just made out with short breaths and trembling hands, and it felt so good to wrapped up in this, in him. His little groans of his arousal and Edward’s internal battle had her panting back in harmony, reaching up to him with her hips.
He grabbed her leg and hitched it perfectly around his waist, and they both moaned way too loudly considering the gobs of people around.
Kristen’s hands as Bella - or was it Bella’s hands as Kristen? - went to the front of his buttoned shirt, and her fingers fumbled to released the small ivory circles.
“I… I want you,” she whispered.
“You have me,” he told her.
“No, Edward,” she groaned as his kisses moved down her neck. “I mean, I want…” She abandoned speech and continued with his buttons.
He froze as her words sunk in, and he pinned her hands above her head. The movement was so familiar to her real life that she wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him closer.
“Be - be reasonable, Bella,” he lamented.
“I don’t want to be reasonable,” she argued, trying to lift her mouth to his again. He backed away. “You said anything - you want marriage and I want this. That’s… that’s compromise.”
He groaned. “Bella, you know why I have to say no. You know that I want you, too.”
“And cut!” David called out, clapping his hands together enthusiastically. They did the scene several more times, but it was never as heated or as raw. In fact, by the end Rob was joking that he had to have his lawyer present for such things, and Kristen couldn’t catch his eye to share the laughter with him.
*
They had dinner that night with some friends, and she had to hand it to him. He didn’t clue anyone in on the fact they were fighting. Their relationship was private enough where PDA wasn’t normal, and he was entertaining some friends from London so it was only natural he pay more attention to them. She stayed on her phone most of the time, and he kept glancing at her with a slight glare. She shouldn’t even be near her phone with him mad at her like this… it’s what got her in trouble in the first place.
When they left, they were swarmed with paparazzi she barely saw. The drive back to the hotel was silent, as was the sprinting they did to the elevators.
She was so irritated at being ignored by him and overexposed by cameras that she snapped at him. “Thanks so much for making me your doormat at dinner,” she said quietly, nastily.
He opened his mouth and bellowed just as paparazzi rounded the corner with video cameras. “Well I’m so sorry that - “
“Can we just wait until these people - ?!” she nearly yelled. She knew that was probably captured, but right now she just did not give a fuck. The last thing she needed was all of America to see their fight.
He closed his mouth and didn’t speak a word to her the rest of the way. He gave her a curt good night and then slammed the door of his hotel room.
Frustrated, she let out screaming sigh. Then she slammed her own door.
*
They had been sitting at dinner the night before, talking and laughing with their cast mates about Kellan’s extreme competitive streak when it came to board games. Kristen had been giving him a really good tongue-lashing and Rob had been chuckling next to her and all had been amazing when her phone rang.
She glanced down and her heart leapt into her throat.
Michael Angarano
Rob caught her eye. “Don’t answer it.”
“Rob,” she laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Kristen. Do not answer that phone. I swear to God - “
“Hello?” she said anyway, waving Rob away. Michael had called to just check up, and it was legitimately good to hear his familiar voice. They had spent years of their young life together, and although she was no longer in love with him, she would always love him. Rob had to understand that.
Her phone call was interrupting dinner, so she got up and excused herself, laughing as Michael told her a story. She did not turn around to see Rob’s expression as she walked out of his room and into her own to continue the conversation.
It lasted about an hour, and she hung up with a smile on her face. She was just so happy - everything had turned out so much better than she could have hoped. She had Rob, the man she had fought for with indiscretions and tears for over a year, and Michael, the man who she had cast aside harbored no hard feelings towards her.
“Good conversation?”
She looked up and Rob was peering into the bedroom of her suite. He took in her smile and her languid pose on her bed and exploded.
“ - if you think I’m just going to bloody sit around while you run off to talk to that asshole - “
“ - excuse me, but I cheated on him with you if you don’t remember, so the fact he is even calling me at all kind of rules out he being an asshole - “
“ - I don’t give a fuck if he’s calling to offer you the position of Queen of your own little deluded world - “
“ - are you fucking kidding me right now?! - “
“ - put yourself in my shoes - “
That argument had lasted for another hour and ended in tears on both of their parts. She was angry that after so long he still was insecure about this, and he was angry that she couldn’t understand that he would never be comfortable with her strolling off to talk to him, that it reminded him too much of that time and she had scoffed and he had pulled the covers over to him and gave her The Butt.
The Butt - what he had always jokingly called she turning over and refusing to speak to him any longer. But now she was on the receiving end, and it was not funny.
And now, twenty-four hours later, he had not relented.
*
She woke up against the next morning to silence so loud it hurt her ears. She grabbed a robe and slipped it over her shoulders, the morning cold without two beating hearts. She padded barefoot out of her room, into the living room of her suite and to the door connecting their rooms.
She swallowed deeply. She was to the point where she just needed to look at him, even if he didn’t want her touch. She missed him and was tired of wasting precious moments. He had been gone all summer from her, save for those weekends they could slip away from reality, and now that he was consistently by her side… she refused to spend it like this.
She opened the door to his room and found the living room empty. The piano bench was tipped on its side, and sheet music was flung all around the floor. She closed the door behind her and kept moving forward until she reached his bedroom door.
She peered in, and he was on his back. And he was staring straight at her. He was staring at her in a way that she recognized before anything else, as it was their first form of communication.
He closed his mouth and his tongue peeked out. She arched her eyebrow and dropped her robe. She was in a white tank top and black panties and soon she was in nothing at all. She crawled to him across the king sized bed and he watched her and made no motion, no move.
She kissed down his chest and every inch of skin she exposed as the sheet went down. The only response from him was the part of him she slipped between her lips, warm and hard against the pink tissue of her mouth. He grabbed her hair tightly in his long fingers, guiding her and letting her apologize. Then he drew her off of him as easily as he would a ragdoll and kissed her mouth, forgiving her.
She slid him inside of her easily, and they gently made love with their bodies stacked and their eyes locked and their fingers intertwined. He came silently and she pressed her forehead against his as his eyes shut.
She didn’t finish and she didn’t care. He moved out of her and made to get up to clean them up, but she didn’t let him.
“Please,” she whispered.
“You’re a mess,” he answered.
“I know,” she cried, and he was back to her immediately. He cradled her to him and his chest hair tickled her nose.
“Time,” he told her, kissing her shorn hair. “Time will make this easier on me. I promise I won’t always fly off the handle - “
“You have complete right to. I’m so sorry. I never want, I never want to see your face look like it did when I answered the phone - “
He kissed her forehead. “Kristen, I could never hurt you. I could never break your heart. I’m just so worried that you’ll break mine.”
She had no promises for him. She didn’t know where life would take them, and she told him as much. He nodded.
“I would never ask you for anything but right now. I would never presume for you to guarantee me your future.” His words were sent solidly.
God, didn’t she know it. He always took her exactly how she offered herself and never asked why it couldn’t be different.
“You deserve a guarantee,” she said bitterly, although she had no idea how to make it plain to him that she would be his, truly, whether they worked out in the long run or not.
He shrugged, and then tipped them backwards so she was lying sprawled over his chest. “I’m not sure what I deserve anymore. But as long as you will have me, I will love you the best I can.”
Author: lindseyrkrpf
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Fights and making up. Oh, and Europe.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not even the song you may recognize in the last scene.
October 2009
Vancouver, Canada
The only lights were the ones that streamed in from the city outside, busy and frantic as most are no matter the time. In fact, the time burned 2:36 in that early morning sort of way, setting heaviness on the eyelids with the dizzy disorientation that had her rubbing her face back into her pillow. She wondered what woke her up in the first place - she was used to the buzzing of traffic in the background. It was welcome to her now; it was an easy sort of noise.
She rolled over and noticed the cool sheets next to her. Those sheets were usually filled by a softly snoring man who always ended up diagonally across the bed, no matter how much she kicked her legs at him. But that man and she had said harsh words before bed, and had retired at opposite ends stewing in stony silences rather than basking in the peaceful love of bedtime.
She sighed, the hisses they had shared at each other coming back to her in full force as consciousness slowly took over. She wondered where he was, whether he was griping about her to Tom or whether he was drinking down at the hotel bar, his breath becoming sour with words or whiskey. She rubbed her hands across her face, wanting nothing more but to go back to sleep - they had to be on set in four hours.
But she let her heart pick up her feet, and let its weight drag her to him.
She didn’t have to search long. She walked through the door adjoining his room to hers, and he was sitting at the piano he had rented, hands in his hair and a pencil in his teeth. He was also completely naked but for the sheet he had stolen from her bed - her bed! - and it drooped down around the curve of his hips.
“Hi,” she said to his back, and she watched the muscles between his shoulder blades stiffen and relax. He breathed in deeply, and she read the signs. Nearly two years of friendship - a year and a half of that romantic in some form or another - told her everything she needed to know.
He was still furious at her.
“Rob…” She scratched the back of her head, unsure what to say. He usually filled in her silences with ridiculous things that got her fired up, and it at least started something - shouting, crying, talking, making out, whatever - but he was staying quiet.
“Go back to your room,” he told her flatly. “It’s late, and you need your rest.”
“I can’t sleep,” she whispered, her anchor for dreams in front of her.
“Well, I can’t talk.” He rotated his neck on his shoulders and slammed his hands down on the keys, the sudden discordant noise startling her.
“Well, you have my sheet,” she said stupidly through her teeth.
He turned and looked at her, swinging around on the bench. Then he stood, and the sheet fell into a puddle of cotton at his feet. “Come get it, then.”
Her eyes raked him involuntarily, the strong thighs, the - the, no, skip that part, Kristen - the V of his hips and the rust colored curls on his chest. He bent and picked the sheet up for her, holding it between his finger and thumb like it was distasteful for him to have.
She stepped forward and took it out of his hands, their fingers brushing. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, agonized that he would treat her so coolly.
“Good night,” he said in response, then sat back down at the piano. As she closed the door behind her, the music picked up.
She tucked herself in a sheet that smelled like him. It did not comfort her.
*
They left in separate cars the next morning, as they always did. But usually her car ride was never boring, because he would call her and chatter as he drank his weight in caffeine and ate whatever candy bar he found suitable for breakfast - lately, it had been Twix - but this morning, he did not text or call. She was starting to feel terrified. He was stubborn, but usually she was right so he conceded.
But this time, despite the fact she had screamed at him to stop being such a suspicious asshole, she knew she was wrong.
It took a couple hours to do her makeup and hair - stupid itchy wig - but then she was driven up to the set in a golf cart. She had a Styrofoam cup in her hand and she was slowly slipping the chai tea inside of it, trying to calm her nerves. She was being ridiculous - they fought often, it was a mark of their relationship. They were two intensely passionate, stubborn individuals who only loved each other more than themselves.
“Leg hitch,” someone called out to her as she walked into the warehouse they set up with various parts of the Cullen house. She grimaced, of course it was that day, the thing that everyone had been jokingly calling The Leg Hitch. It was the friskiest Edward and Bella had ever gotten, and she had been looking forward to it… until now.
Rob was already there, appearing surly and beautiful perched on the giant golden bed that was Edward’s. He looked pensive and young, with his hair flipped up from his forehead in Edward’s typical fashion. He looked over as she approached, and his eyes softened momentarily before David Slade bustled around, calling out placements and order.
Rob climbed over her, his familiar weight pressing against her thighs. They had been so tired and frustrated with life, their sex life had taken a serious toll. She felt like an old woman at nineteen, coming home and staving off advances because of a headache.
But his familiar scent around her caught her mind and heart and when he bent to kiss her, she kissed Rob back.
He was punishing her with his kiss. It bruised her mouth with its power, but she allowed herself to be swept up in it. It had been so long since they had truly just made out with short breaths and trembling hands, and it felt so good to wrapped up in this, in him. His little groans of his arousal and Edward’s internal battle had her panting back in harmony, reaching up to him with her hips.
He grabbed her leg and hitched it perfectly around his waist, and they both moaned way too loudly considering the gobs of people around.
Kristen’s hands as Bella - or was it Bella’s hands as Kristen? - went to the front of his buttoned shirt, and her fingers fumbled to released the small ivory circles.
“I… I want you,” she whispered.
“You have me,” he told her.
“No, Edward,” she groaned as his kisses moved down her neck. “I mean, I want…” She abandoned speech and continued with his buttons.
He froze as her words sunk in, and he pinned her hands above her head. The movement was so familiar to her real life that she wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him closer.
“Be - be reasonable, Bella,” he lamented.
“I don’t want to be reasonable,” she argued, trying to lift her mouth to his again. He backed away. “You said anything - you want marriage and I want this. That’s… that’s compromise.”
He groaned. “Bella, you know why I have to say no. You know that I want you, too.”
“And cut!” David called out, clapping his hands together enthusiastically. They did the scene several more times, but it was never as heated or as raw. In fact, by the end Rob was joking that he had to have his lawyer present for such things, and Kristen couldn’t catch his eye to share the laughter with him.
*
They had dinner that night with some friends, and she had to hand it to him. He didn’t clue anyone in on the fact they were fighting. Their relationship was private enough where PDA wasn’t normal, and he was entertaining some friends from London so it was only natural he pay more attention to them. She stayed on her phone most of the time, and he kept glancing at her with a slight glare. She shouldn’t even be near her phone with him mad at her like this… it’s what got her in trouble in the first place.
When they left, they were swarmed with paparazzi she barely saw. The drive back to the hotel was silent, as was the sprinting they did to the elevators.
She was so irritated at being ignored by him and overexposed by cameras that she snapped at him. “Thanks so much for making me your doormat at dinner,” she said quietly, nastily.
He opened his mouth and bellowed just as paparazzi rounded the corner with video cameras. “Well I’m so sorry that - “
“Can we just wait until these people - ?!” she nearly yelled. She knew that was probably captured, but right now she just did not give a fuck. The last thing she needed was all of America to see their fight.
He closed his mouth and didn’t speak a word to her the rest of the way. He gave her a curt good night and then slammed the door of his hotel room.
Frustrated, she let out screaming sigh. Then she slammed her own door.
*
They had been sitting at dinner the night before, talking and laughing with their cast mates about Kellan’s extreme competitive streak when it came to board games. Kristen had been giving him a really good tongue-lashing and Rob had been chuckling next to her and all had been amazing when her phone rang.
She glanced down and her heart leapt into her throat.
Michael Angarano
Rob caught her eye. “Don’t answer it.”
“Rob,” she laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Kristen. Do not answer that phone. I swear to God - “
“Hello?” she said anyway, waving Rob away. Michael had called to just check up, and it was legitimately good to hear his familiar voice. They had spent years of their young life together, and although she was no longer in love with him, she would always love him. Rob had to understand that.
Her phone call was interrupting dinner, so she got up and excused herself, laughing as Michael told her a story. She did not turn around to see Rob’s expression as she walked out of his room and into her own to continue the conversation.
It lasted about an hour, and she hung up with a smile on her face. She was just so happy - everything had turned out so much better than she could have hoped. She had Rob, the man she had fought for with indiscretions and tears for over a year, and Michael, the man who she had cast aside harbored no hard feelings towards her.
“Good conversation?”
She looked up and Rob was peering into the bedroom of her suite. He took in her smile and her languid pose on her bed and exploded.
“ - if you think I’m just going to bloody sit around while you run off to talk to that asshole - “
“ - excuse me, but I cheated on him with you if you don’t remember, so the fact he is even calling me at all kind of rules out he being an asshole - “
“ - I don’t give a fuck if he’s calling to offer you the position of Queen of your own little deluded world - “
“ - are you fucking kidding me right now?! - “
“ - put yourself in my shoes - “
That argument had lasted for another hour and ended in tears on both of their parts. She was angry that after so long he still was insecure about this, and he was angry that she couldn’t understand that he would never be comfortable with her strolling off to talk to him, that it reminded him too much of that time and she had scoffed and he had pulled the covers over to him and gave her The Butt.
The Butt - what he had always jokingly called she turning over and refusing to speak to him any longer. But now she was on the receiving end, and it was not funny.
And now, twenty-four hours later, he had not relented.
*
She woke up against the next morning to silence so loud it hurt her ears. She grabbed a robe and slipped it over her shoulders, the morning cold without two beating hearts. She padded barefoot out of her room, into the living room of her suite and to the door connecting their rooms.
She swallowed deeply. She was to the point where she just needed to look at him, even if he didn’t want her touch. She missed him and was tired of wasting precious moments. He had been gone all summer from her, save for those weekends they could slip away from reality, and now that he was consistently by her side… she refused to spend it like this.
She opened the door to his room and found the living room empty. The piano bench was tipped on its side, and sheet music was flung all around the floor. She closed the door behind her and kept moving forward until she reached his bedroom door.
She peered in, and he was on his back. And he was staring straight at her. He was staring at her in a way that she recognized before anything else, as it was their first form of communication.
He closed his mouth and his tongue peeked out. She arched her eyebrow and dropped her robe. She was in a white tank top and black panties and soon she was in nothing at all. She crawled to him across the king sized bed and he watched her and made no motion, no move.
She kissed down his chest and every inch of skin she exposed as the sheet went down. The only response from him was the part of him she slipped between her lips, warm and hard against the pink tissue of her mouth. He grabbed her hair tightly in his long fingers, guiding her and letting her apologize. Then he drew her off of him as easily as he would a ragdoll and kissed her mouth, forgiving her.
She slid him inside of her easily, and they gently made love with their bodies stacked and their eyes locked and their fingers intertwined. He came silently and she pressed her forehead against his as his eyes shut.
She didn’t finish and she didn’t care. He moved out of her and made to get up to clean them up, but she didn’t let him.
“Please,” she whispered.
“You’re a mess,” he answered.
“I know,” she cried, and he was back to her immediately. He cradled her to him and his chest hair tickled her nose.
“Time,” he told her, kissing her shorn hair. “Time will make this easier on me. I promise I won’t always fly off the handle - “
“You have complete right to. I’m so sorry. I never want, I never want to see your face look like it did when I answered the phone - “
He kissed her forehead. “Kristen, I could never hurt you. I could never break your heart. I’m just so worried that you’ll break mine.”
She had no promises for him. She didn’t know where life would take them, and she told him as much. He nodded.
“I would never ask you for anything but right now. I would never presume for you to guarantee me your future.” His words were sent solidly.
God, didn’t she know it. He always took her exactly how she offered herself and never asked why it couldn’t be different.
“You deserve a guarantee,” she said bitterly, although she had no idea how to make it plain to him that she would be his, truly, whether they worked out in the long run or not.
He shrugged, and then tipped them backwards so she was lying sprawled over his chest. “I’m not sure what I deserve anymore. But as long as you will have me, I will love you the best I can.”