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HAPPY BIRTHDAY! :D I have two stories for you. THey're unbetad, unreviewed, and written by a sleep-deprived stressed out AP-exam-fixated crazy girl . . . but they are labors of love, and I'm told it's the thought that counts. :P I hope your birthday is awesome!
Title: Tin-Foil Halo
Pairing: Edward/Tanya
Rating: Eh, I'll say PG to be safe
Disclaimer: They all belong to Steph. I just borrow them every now and again.
There are many memories he would willingly surrender. (her arms around his neck and her lips on his and did he tell Bella she was the first?) Does he need to be reminded of his sins? He sees the halo reflected in Bella's eyes every time she looks at him and that is reminder enough, isn't it?
I'm not a saint, Bella, he wants to tell her. You can't be a saint until you're dead, Bella.
He never tells her because he knows she won't understand, won't want to. Would she understand if she knew the truth, whole and nothing but? (more secret are the memories he wouldn't give up, not for anything. He holds them as tight as he can, though of course he can never forget anyway -- vampire, remember?)
He's not sure she would understand, even if she knew, so he lets her pin the tin-foil halo above his head and pretends he doesn't notice.
But Bella isn't the first girl he's compared to drugs. He would have left his window open for Tanya every night, he knows. Was she ever addicted to him?
Well, that's the funny part, isn't it.
------------
He goes stock-still when he sees her standing in his meadow -- their meadow, Bella's meadow -- like she has a right. Tanya doesn't turn, but she knows he's there. "Hello, Edward." Her voice is light, cheerful. Her shoulders are tense.
"What do you want?" They cannot stand on ceremony, he and Tanya; they understand each other too well. It has terrified Edward from the first day he met her.
Tanya turns and takes him in. Sunlight plays on her hair like a halo, and Edward feels the irony like a kick to the chest. She's no saint either, this one.
"Just to see an old friend. Bad?" Edward grimaces. They've been many things: never friends.
There is a shadow of a smile on Tanya's lips as she adds, "I have missed dear Carlisle."
First point to Tanya. Surprise.
Edward is still as he watches her. She takes one step forward; she still moves so enchantingly, doesn't she, doesn't she, Edward? "I don't want you here," he tells her.
"I know." The smile grows. "It's been a long time, Cullen."
It hasn't been a long time, not as they count years. That's not to say that he hasn't ached for her, and of course she understands that, too, as she brushes her hair back and moves closer. Edward half-stretches his hands toward her before he realizes he's moved at all.
She's too good at what she does, so Edward reaches for his best defense. "I'm engaged," he says, moving his hands back to his sides.
Second point goes to Edward, as Tanya's face goes blank with shock. "En . . . what?"
"I don't want you there," he tells her. "Don't come."
"I'm hurt," she says, and it would have been a wonderfully lofty reply if it hadn't been true. "Don't I merit an invitation, considering?"
This time Edward can't help laughing at the sheer absurdity. "Considering what, Tans? I mostly remember the bit where you left me and told me you never wanted to see me again."
Her voice is very soft. "That's not fair, Edward."
"No." They are circling each other now. "No, I didn't think so either."
Tanya shakes out her hair, then runs her hands through it like she doesn't know what else to do with them. Her eyes meet his, and she thinks at him, I was trying not to love you.
He doesn't respond, and finally her gaze drops to the ground. Neither of them say anything.
Edward goes home.
--------------------------
He doesn't see Tanya again until the night before the wedding. It surprises him that she waits so long.
"I don't want you near this house," he says, one hand still on the tree outside Bella's window.
"Oh, Edward," Tanya mutters as she stands up and turns to face him. She is silhouetted against the moonlight, a perfect proud Titania. Ill-met by moonlight . . . "Why are you such an idiot?"
"Leave, please." Edward isn't at all sure he could make her go if he tried. "I'll speak to you . . ." He falters. "Later."
"I doubt it. I don't think I'll be staying." Tanya makes idle threats all the time; this time, though, she means it. Edward tries not to wince. "I just brought a present." She lobs a package at Edward and he catches it, tears the wrapper open immediately.
"That was for the bride, actually," she says, but mildly. She'd expected him to open it.
Edward dangles the necklace from his fingers; it is beautiful. "You hate diamonds," he says.
Tanya grins briefly. "Completely. And so does she, Alice says. Something else we have in common."
"You have nothing in common." His words come out harsher than he intends and Tanya frowns briefly.
"No, I can think of a few things." She watches him wrap the necklace up again. "Well. I just came to give you that, say goodbye." She pauses and waits for him to respond. He doesn't, and the silence grows tense.
"Goodbye," he answers, finally.
Tanya nods. "Goodbye." She half turns, then turns back. She starts to say something, and changes her mind. But of course Edward hears anyway. "Goodbye," she finishes, finally, and she goes, leaving Edward staring after her.
--------------------------
She was too late, Edward tells himself later that night, as he watches Bella's steady breaths.
She should have come back years ago, he thinks, as he counts Bella's heartbeats.
I'm glad she didn't, and suddenly his gaze slips from Bella as he tries to believe the lie.
Title: This fic is an unloved, untitled orphan. :(
Pairing: Jacob/Angela
Rating: Way G. Except I mention condoms. So I guess maybe PG. :P
Disclaimer: They . . . hold on, let me check . . . yes, still Steph's.
This is the way of his life: he never looks at her until she's about to cross the border to leave Forks. He freezes where he is, stopped in front of a green light with his hands on the handlebars, and stares blankly through her car window.
He's never met her, so of course he doesn't know her name (Bella could have told him that oh, that's just Angela, but where is Bella these days, anyway? Somewhere cold, dark and unspecified . . .). But he's a wolf: he doesn't need to know her name to know.
He waits until her car starts to move, swerves across into her lane (the driver behind him expresses her annoyance, and he makes a rude gesture back at her) and follows.
An hour later, he is repenting of his impulsiveness, as he slumps against the wall of the gas station and looks around. He wonders if Sam would come get him . . . no, Sam was too much like Billy these days. He'd probably laugh even harder than Billy had . . .
Jacob kicks at his bike and sticks his hands in his pockets, the perfect picture of petulance. He could pick up the bike and just carry it home, he carried it a few miles just to get it this far . . . but it is a long walk all the way back to La Push. And it is late. And he doesn't want to go home, he wants to follow the dark-haired girl in the ancient purple car.
She's long gone by now, though, and he is out of options. Jacob says something uncouth, and startes to straighten up and reach for his bike. He wonders what happens when you lose the one that fate chose for you. Does fate make allowances for things like reaching empty just as she turns onto the freeway? He's not sure.
A dark-haired girl in an ancient purple car drives into the station, and once again, Jacob goes completely still and stares. "No way," he mutters, but he knows it's her. Who else could it be, in a car like that?
She glances sideways at him as she passes, and he catches her gaze and holds it for a moment before glancing back at his bike. (He can't tell what color her eyes are in the twilight) He counts to three when the door shuts behind her, and then he follows.
"-- need my license, I'm going all the way to Idaho . . ."
The man behind the counter is not interested. "No," he says, shaking his head over and over. "Don't have it. Sorry. Nobody saw it."
"It's black leather," the girl says, frustration building in her voice. "It has a silver clasp. I know I left it --"
"Sorry. Don't have it."
Black leather . . . sometimes the sharpened senses come in handy. Jacob comes up behind the girl and points. "Is that it?" There's a half-inch of black leather poking out from underneath a box of condoms, on a shelf behind the counter. The attendent's expression darkens, but he makes a show of turning to see.
"No, I don't --"
"Yes," the girl says. "It is." She looks at him. Her eyes are green, and Jacob has to make himself look back towards the wallet. He reaches past the man and grabs the wallet easily, then hands it to the girl, who turns it over in her hands and opens it to check for her license. "Thank you . . ." she says, then her brow furrows. "You look familiar."
"Uhm . . ." He hopes she doesn't recognize him from looking in her rearview mirror.
"You . . . what's your name?"
"Jacob. Black."
The girl's expression clears. "Bella's friend. I know exactly who you are. Thank you . . . what're you doing all the way out here?" They walk out of the station together. Angela holds the door open for him.
Well, funny you should ask . . "I ran out of gas," he says, strictly the truth, "and I don't have any money with me to buy more."
". . . really?" Her eyes light with laughter. She is not the type to forget to fill up the tank before beginning a road trip, he surmises. Or to forget to bring money.
He smiles sheepishly, and changes the subject. "I'm sorry, I don't know your name . . ."
"Angela," she says. "Can I call anybody for you?"
"No, I tried that . . . they laughed at me." At that, she laughs too, and Jacob ducks his head. His face is hot.
"Well . . . which way were you headed?"
Whichever way she was. Forever. Which way had she been headed? "East," he says. The girl waits for a few beats.
"Anywhere specific?"
He stares at her, trying to figure out her destination. "No," he admits, finally. "Just east."
"Well . . . look, I need to get back on the road, but . . ." She fishes through her wallet and hands him a few twenties. "Buy some gas. I don't think you want to sleep here tonight."
"No, I can't take your money," Jacob protests instantly, and he tries to put the money back in her hands. She holds his hand closed around the money.
"I'm serious, take it."
"I can't --" He stops abruptly. "Look, I'll take it if you'll give me your address so I can pay you back."
She is laughing again; she gets in her car. "Just take the stupid money, Jacob. It's a present. Look, I'm driving away, you have to keep the money." She turns the car on and smiles at him. Jacob's breath catches.
"Look, where are you headed?"
"Idaho," Angela says, checking over her shoulder in preparation for backing up. "College."
"Can I . . . call you?"
She frowns faintly. "I told you, you have to keep the money."
"No, just to . . .call you. You know. Uh." Jacob pushes his hair away from his face nervously. Fate doesn't make anything easier . . .
Angela gives him a surprised look. "Oh. Sure, I guess. Uh . . . do you have a paper?"
"No . . . but I have an amazing memory, I can remember it."
"You're going to miss a digit and get a total stranger. An Idahoan lumberjack or something," she warns, but she tells him the number. He'll never forget it, but he recites it back just in case. "Yep. Say hi to the lumberjack for me." Angela grins at him, and starts to back up.
Jacob remembers his manners, suddenly, and yells "Thank you!" She laughs and waves at him, then drives away. "Stay safe," he murmurs. He whispers the number one more time, just to be sure, and then walks back to his bike.
Title: Tin-Foil Halo
Pairing: Edward/Tanya
Rating: Eh, I'll say PG to be safe
Disclaimer: They all belong to Steph. I just borrow them every now and again.
There are many memories he would willingly surrender. (her arms around his neck and her lips on his and did he tell Bella she was the first?) Does he need to be reminded of his sins? He sees the halo reflected in Bella's eyes every time she looks at him and that is reminder enough, isn't it?
I'm not a saint, Bella, he wants to tell her. You can't be a saint until you're dead, Bella.
He never tells her because he knows she won't understand, won't want to. Would she understand if she knew the truth, whole and nothing but? (more secret are the memories he wouldn't give up, not for anything. He holds them as tight as he can, though of course he can never forget anyway -- vampire, remember?)
He's not sure she would understand, even if she knew, so he lets her pin the tin-foil halo above his head and pretends he doesn't notice.
But Bella isn't the first girl he's compared to drugs. He would have left his window open for Tanya every night, he knows. Was she ever addicted to him?
Well, that's the funny part, isn't it.
------------
He goes stock-still when he sees her standing in his meadow -- their meadow, Bella's meadow -- like she has a right. Tanya doesn't turn, but she knows he's there. "Hello, Edward." Her voice is light, cheerful. Her shoulders are tense.
"What do you want?" They cannot stand on ceremony, he and Tanya; they understand each other too well. It has terrified Edward from the first day he met her.
Tanya turns and takes him in. Sunlight plays on her hair like a halo, and Edward feels the irony like a kick to the chest. She's no saint either, this one.
"Just to see an old friend. Bad?" Edward grimaces. They've been many things: never friends.
There is a shadow of a smile on Tanya's lips as she adds, "I have missed dear Carlisle."
First point to Tanya. Surprise.
Edward is still as he watches her. She takes one step forward; she still moves so enchantingly, doesn't she, doesn't she, Edward? "I don't want you here," he tells her.
"I know." The smile grows. "It's been a long time, Cullen."
It hasn't been a long time, not as they count years. That's not to say that he hasn't ached for her, and of course she understands that, too, as she brushes her hair back and moves closer. Edward half-stretches his hands toward her before he realizes he's moved at all.
She's too good at what she does, so Edward reaches for his best defense. "I'm engaged," he says, moving his hands back to his sides.
Second point goes to Edward, as Tanya's face goes blank with shock. "En . . . what?"
"I don't want you there," he tells her. "Don't come."
"I'm hurt," she says, and it would have been a wonderfully lofty reply if it hadn't been true. "Don't I merit an invitation, considering?"
This time Edward can't help laughing at the sheer absurdity. "Considering what, Tans? I mostly remember the bit where you left me and told me you never wanted to see me again."
Her voice is very soft. "That's not fair, Edward."
"No." They are circling each other now. "No, I didn't think so either."
Tanya shakes out her hair, then runs her hands through it like she doesn't know what else to do with them. Her eyes meet his, and she thinks at him, I was trying not to love you.
He doesn't respond, and finally her gaze drops to the ground. Neither of them say anything.
Edward goes home.
--------------------------
He doesn't see Tanya again until the night before the wedding. It surprises him that she waits so long.
"I don't want you near this house," he says, one hand still on the tree outside Bella's window.
"Oh, Edward," Tanya mutters as she stands up and turns to face him. She is silhouetted against the moonlight, a perfect proud Titania. Ill-met by moonlight . . . "Why are you such an idiot?"
"Leave, please." Edward isn't at all sure he could make her go if he tried. "I'll speak to you . . ." He falters. "Later."
"I doubt it. I don't think I'll be staying." Tanya makes idle threats all the time; this time, though, she means it. Edward tries not to wince. "I just brought a present." She lobs a package at Edward and he catches it, tears the wrapper open immediately.
"That was for the bride, actually," she says, but mildly. She'd expected him to open it.
Edward dangles the necklace from his fingers; it is beautiful. "You hate diamonds," he says.
Tanya grins briefly. "Completely. And so does she, Alice says. Something else we have in common."
"You have nothing in common." His words come out harsher than he intends and Tanya frowns briefly.
"No, I can think of a few things." She watches him wrap the necklace up again. "Well. I just came to give you that, say goodbye." She pauses and waits for him to respond. He doesn't, and the silence grows tense.
"Goodbye," he answers, finally.
Tanya nods. "Goodbye." She half turns, then turns back. She starts to say something, and changes her mind. But of course Edward hears anyway. "Goodbye," she finishes, finally, and she goes, leaving Edward staring after her.
--------------------------
She was too late, Edward tells himself later that night, as he watches Bella's steady breaths.
She should have come back years ago, he thinks, as he counts Bella's heartbeats.
I'm glad she didn't, and suddenly his gaze slips from Bella as he tries to believe the lie.
Title: This fic is an unloved, untitled orphan. :(
Pairing: Jacob/Angela
Rating: Way G. Except I mention condoms. So I guess maybe PG. :P
Disclaimer: They . . . hold on, let me check . . . yes, still Steph's.
This is the way of his life: he never looks at her until she's about to cross the border to leave Forks. He freezes where he is, stopped in front of a green light with his hands on the handlebars, and stares blankly through her car window.
He's never met her, so of course he doesn't know her name (Bella could have told him that oh, that's just Angela, but where is Bella these days, anyway? Somewhere cold, dark and unspecified . . .). But he's a wolf: he doesn't need to know her name to know.
He waits until her car starts to move, swerves across into her lane (the driver behind him expresses her annoyance, and he makes a rude gesture back at her) and follows.
An hour later, he is repenting of his impulsiveness, as he slumps against the wall of the gas station and looks around. He wonders if Sam would come get him . . . no, Sam was too much like Billy these days. He'd probably laugh even harder than Billy had . . .
Jacob kicks at his bike and sticks his hands in his pockets, the perfect picture of petulance. He could pick up the bike and just carry it home, he carried it a few miles just to get it this far . . . but it is a long walk all the way back to La Push. And it is late. And he doesn't want to go home, he wants to follow the dark-haired girl in the ancient purple car.
She's long gone by now, though, and he is out of options. Jacob says something uncouth, and startes to straighten up and reach for his bike. He wonders what happens when you lose the one that fate chose for you. Does fate make allowances for things like reaching empty just as she turns onto the freeway? He's not sure.
A dark-haired girl in an ancient purple car drives into the station, and once again, Jacob goes completely still and stares. "No way," he mutters, but he knows it's her. Who else could it be, in a car like that?
She glances sideways at him as she passes, and he catches her gaze and holds it for a moment before glancing back at his bike. (He can't tell what color her eyes are in the twilight) He counts to three when the door shuts behind her, and then he follows.
"-- need my license, I'm going all the way to Idaho . . ."
The man behind the counter is not interested. "No," he says, shaking his head over and over. "Don't have it. Sorry. Nobody saw it."
"It's black leather," the girl says, frustration building in her voice. "It has a silver clasp. I know I left it --"
"Sorry. Don't have it."
Black leather . . . sometimes the sharpened senses come in handy. Jacob comes up behind the girl and points. "Is that it?" There's a half-inch of black leather poking out from underneath a box of condoms, on a shelf behind the counter. The attendent's expression darkens, but he makes a show of turning to see.
"No, I don't --"
"Yes," the girl says. "It is." She looks at him. Her eyes are green, and Jacob has to make himself look back towards the wallet. He reaches past the man and grabs the wallet easily, then hands it to the girl, who turns it over in her hands and opens it to check for her license. "Thank you . . ." she says, then her brow furrows. "You look familiar."
"Uhm . . ." He hopes she doesn't recognize him from looking in her rearview mirror.
"You . . . what's your name?"
"Jacob. Black."
The girl's expression clears. "Bella's friend. I know exactly who you are. Thank you . . . what're you doing all the way out here?" They walk out of the station together. Angela holds the door open for him.
Well, funny you should ask . . "I ran out of gas," he says, strictly the truth, "and I don't have any money with me to buy more."
". . . really?" Her eyes light with laughter. She is not the type to forget to fill up the tank before beginning a road trip, he surmises. Or to forget to bring money.
He smiles sheepishly, and changes the subject. "I'm sorry, I don't know your name . . ."
"Angela," she says. "Can I call anybody for you?"
"No, I tried that . . . they laughed at me." At that, she laughs too, and Jacob ducks his head. His face is hot.
"Well . . . which way were you headed?"
Whichever way she was. Forever. Which way had she been headed? "East," he says. The girl waits for a few beats.
"Anywhere specific?"
He stares at her, trying to figure out her destination. "No," he admits, finally. "Just east."
"Well . . . look, I need to get back on the road, but . . ." She fishes through her wallet and hands him a few twenties. "Buy some gas. I don't think you want to sleep here tonight."
"No, I can't take your money," Jacob protests instantly, and he tries to put the money back in her hands. She holds his hand closed around the money.
"I'm serious, take it."
"I can't --" He stops abruptly. "Look, I'll take it if you'll give me your address so I can pay you back."
She is laughing again; she gets in her car. "Just take the stupid money, Jacob. It's a present. Look, I'm driving away, you have to keep the money." She turns the car on and smiles at him. Jacob's breath catches.
"Look, where are you headed?"
"Idaho," Angela says, checking over her shoulder in preparation for backing up. "College."
"Can I . . . call you?"
She frowns faintly. "I told you, you have to keep the money."
"No, just to . . .call you. You know. Uh." Jacob pushes his hair away from his face nervously. Fate doesn't make anything easier . . .
Angela gives him a surprised look. "Oh. Sure, I guess. Uh . . . do you have a paper?"
"No . . . but I have an amazing memory, I can remember it."
"You're going to miss a digit and get a total stranger. An Idahoan lumberjack or something," she warns, but she tells him the number. He'll never forget it, but he recites it back just in case. "Yep. Say hi to the lumberjack for me." Angela grins at him, and starts to back up.
Jacob remembers his manners, suddenly, and yells "Thank you!" She laughs and waves at him, then drives away. "Stay safe," he murmurs. He whispers the number one more time, just to be sure, and then walks back to his bike.