Chapter 1 ~ How Emmett Removed Edward's Bra

Emmett heard the loud groan from downstairs and muttered to himself as he grabbed the banister and skipped over the first two steps on his way up. "Well, at least we know he's alive."

He almost burst in to laughter at the sight which greeted him as he opened Edward's bedroom door, knocking lightly as he pushed it open slowly.

"Hey, Edw-" he poked his head inside the room and his hand flew to his mouth to catch the laughs before they broke through.

Edward lay face down on his bed. It wasn' t the fact that Edward's bare ass was staring toward the sky that made Emmett laugh. It wasn't the copious amount of extremely bright, red lipstick smeared all over the man's lips and cheek. It wasn't even the tattered, blonde wig which lay, half-on and half-off of his head, on the bed beside him. It was the white, cotton brassiere strapped around Edward's chest. A brassiere which looked like something somebody's grandmother would wear - or, quite possibly, a bullet-proof vest. It was also, as Emmett discovered upon grabbing Edward's shoulder and rolling him over on to his back, huge. Emmett had seen more than his fair share of large breasts and, subsequently, large bras in his twenty-nine years. He had never seen a bra cup this large before. The cups were stuffed with what appeared to be stockings. And maybe a white sock or two.

Edward groaned again, and the smell emanating from his general vicinity turned Emmett's grin to a grimace.

"Gah! Dude, you have to get the fuck up."

Emmett looked over his friend, trying to find a place on Edward's essentially naked body he could safely smack him without the action seeming gay. He settled for his shoulder again.

He was met with another groan and a muttered, "Dude..."

Emmett walked over to the large, floor-to-ceiling windows which covered the west-facing wall of Edward's bedroom. After fumbling for a moment in an effort to find the chords which controlled the drapes, he pulled on them, opening the long drapes and flooding the room in sunlight. Edward rolled back over on to his stomach and groaned a loud, "Fuck!"

"Oh good," Emmett said, grimacing as he picked up not one or even two, but three pair of discarded thong panties from the ottoman before pushing said ottoman back to its usual position in front of Edward's library chair. "You're awake." Emmett clapped his hands loudly, making Edward jump a little and utter more curses in a voice muffled by the pillow he pulled over his face.

Emmett picked up several empty Stoli and Grey Goose vodka bottles, dropping them (along with the panties) in the trash can beside an end table.

And then, Emmett ran out of patience.

He pulled the pillow from off of Edward's face and smacked his open hand across the man's thigh. He didn't even care anymore if that seemed gay, seeing how close his thigh was to his...um...unit, which was sadly staring Emmett right in the fucking face. Not that he wanted to look, of course. It was just, like right there.

"Fuck!" Edward's screamed, his hands flying to his thigh. "Emmett, you dick!"

"Dude, you have to get up. You have another stupid awards show tonight."

Edward flailed his limbs to lay flat on his back, his arms and legs hitting the mattress dramatically. "Fuck. Which one is this again?"

Emmett looked at the ceiling. He looked at the trash can which now overflowed with liquor bottles and he realised he had missed two Heineken bottles which were sitting on the window seat as his gaze fell there. Emmett looked everywhere in the room, in an effort not to look at Edward's junk which was presently spread out on display for God and everybody to see - surrounded, seemingly for presentation purposes, almost as if on a platter, by the soft folds of his black bed sheets as they curled beneath him.

"Teen Choice Awards," Emmett replied. "And dude, would you cover the fuck up already? I really don't need to see this."

Edward lifted his head, looking down at himself as if discovering for the first time that there was a body attached down there. "What the fuck am I wearing?" He scrambled up to a sitting position, bringing the bed sheet with him and covering his lower half. His hands then reached around to his back, trying to unhook the bra he was inexplicably wearing.

Emmett watched as his friend wiggled and squirmed in an effort to free himself from the Super Ginormous Mystery Bra, trying unsuccessfully to keep his laughs to himself. "You're gonna have to answer that one for me, bro."

Edward grimaced as his efforts failed. "Well, shit - stop laughing and help me get out of this thing."

Edward turned his back to Emmett, who lifted his hands to the offending piece of material. There were four hooks on the monstrosity and hard as Emmett worked, he couldn't get a single one of them open.

"Jesus, Em, can't you get a fucking bra off? You know, this explains a lot about your lack of a social life."

"Fuck you, Edward." Emmett's face strained in concentration and effort. "This shit is awkward. I've never done it from this angle before."

"Fuck it. Just go get some scissors."

Emmett dropped his hands and stood up. "Where are your scissors?"

Edward gave him a dead look which quickly turned just plain deadly. "Fuck, I don't know! What the fuck?" His hands again flew to his back as he struggled with the bra. "Get me out of this thing!"

Emmett didn't know whether to laugh or cry over the fact that Edward had no idea where the scissors were in his own home. In the end, he felt badly for his friend. He had purchased this beautiful, spanish-style home, tucked deeply and privately in to a canyon above Malibu, with a stunning view of the ocean below, five years ago; after the runaway success of his first film had catapulted him in to seven-digit salary range. He had paid cash for it and was excited about owning his own home for the first time and owning it outright. The home was not ostentatious by any means. Having a mere four bedrooms and four and a half baths in its 3600 square feet, it would be considered modest by most Hollywood standards. But it was comfortable and Edward had fallen in love with the outdoor space, which sported a number of shady fruit trees in addition to its killer view.

Edward hadn't spent more than three consecutive nights in the house since its purchase.

He was just too busy. If he wasn't on location somewhere, filming a new movie, he was on a press junket promoting one or appearing at film festivals or premiers or doing photo shoots or interviews. Edward had been pursuing acting professionally since graduating college six years ago and hadn't stopped moving for the last five. He'd had one year of struggling, but even his "struggles" were slight. During his first year in Hollywood, he was able to make ends meet by doing commercials and occasional guest parts on sit-coms and even a three-episode arch on ER. He never had to take a job waiting tables or sweat the rent.

Emmett was already in Los Angeles when Edward moved there, having gone to UCLA on a football scholarship. While he had a successful and promising run at football for over two years there, his dreams of playing professionally were shot to shit, along with his left knee, in a game against cross-town rivals USC at the end of his Junior year. He was happy to have a degree to show for his time at UCLA, but when his football dream died, he initially had no idea what to do with himself.

Having been great friends in high school, Edward and Emmett had stayed in touch over the years via email and during the occasional hometown visit. It seemed only natural for them to room together while they each found their way in L.A. after college. It was Edward who inspired Emmett to start his private security business. After seeing him in a small play in Culver City, Emmett swore that Edward would make it big some day and then he could call in all his IOUs and Edward would have no choice but to hire Emmett's firm for his security needs.

That day came a lot sooner than either of them had anticipated. Because then came BiProduct.

The movie was a fairly-formulaic tale of a tortured but brilliant high school rebel (played by one Edward Masen) who, after being told he will not graduate with his class due to all of the classes he has missed in efforts to care for his ailing mother, finally gets fed up with The Man, robs a liquor store and inadvertently kidnaps a spoiled, rich little bitch (played by the lovely and stellar Bella Swan) who ends up not minding so much being kidnapped.

It wasn't a bad movie. But it wasn't great. It wasn't even good, really. But it was a tremendous hit, making a couple hundred million dollars, world-wide.

And Edward Masen was fucking great. He was a natural. A born movie star; with the beautiful face, the hard body and the acting chops to back them up. Word spread about him being "The Next Big Thing" before filming even finished and after the movie actually came out? Forget about it. His life was completely changed. On the cover of every magazine, the constant target of paparazzi; women threw themselves at him relentlessly. And he had no time for anything, least of all himself. He did, in fact, find the need to hire Emmett and his firm to take care of his security (although Emmett's personal job duties were rather blurred and he ended up acting not only as security guard, but as personal assistant, gopher, wingman, confidant and anything else Edward needed him to be at any given moment).

In addition to the ample talents of the lead actor starring in BiProduct, all of Hollywood was aflutter over the chemistry between him and his co-star, Bella Swan. It was an almost living, palpable substance; you could chew on it. In between other films Edward had made since BiProduct, he had already starred with

Bella in one other movie - Shenanigans; a sweet, romantic comedy and the reason Edward needed to get ready for the Teen Choice Awards. They were also scheduled to start shooting a third film together in mere weeks.

This was the first semi-break Edward had had in five years. Aside from a couple of awards shows and a quick trip to New York for some press, he was a free man until rehearsals started in Kentucky in six weeks.

So maybe now he had time to figure out where he keeps his scissors.

"Hold still!" Emmett said, approaching Edward. "I just...wanna try something."

Emmett reached his hands out to reach around Edward, but Edward pulled away.

"Don't move," Emmett said, through clenched teeth.

"What are you doing?" Edward was still fidgeting and pushing Emmett's arms away while Emmett tried to grasp the hooks of the bra.

Exasperated, Emmett dropped his hands. "Dude, come on. I'm trying to get the damn thing off you. I figured it might be easier this way. This is the angle I'm used to working from."

Edward looked incredulously at his friend for a moment before shrugging his shoulders in defeat. "Oh, whatever, you moron. Just do it."

Emmett reached his arms around to Edward's back, unhooking the bra. "Seriously, dude," Edward said as Emmett held the bra up in front of him, triumphantly. "We need to get you a girlfriend."

Edward hung his head against his chest and ran a hand through his hair. "Teen Choice...is that the one with the surfboards?"

Emmett nodded. "Yep. 'Member? Last year Salma Hayek gave you an award."

Edward looked at his friend and smiled, a misty look coming over his face. "Ah, yes. Salma." Both Edward and Emmett sighed loudly, almost in unison.

Edward shook his head and grimaced. "I hate those fucking surfboards."

"Well, cheer up. Maybe you won't win anything."

Edward grimaced up at Emmett. "If only. You know that stupid movie is gonna win like, a baker's dozen awards."

Emmett chuckled. "Don't think much of yourself, do you?"

Edward stood up from the bed, bringing the top sheet with him and wrapping it around his waist. "Oh, please. It's not like these things have anything to do with talent or whatever. It's all publicity. And the teens love Bella and me." Edward walked toward his bathroom. "What time is the car picking me up?"

"For the awards? Not 'til four-thirty."

Edward stopped, one foot in the bathroom, and turned back toward Emmett. "Emmett, what the fuck time is it?"

"It's only -" Emmett checked the watch on his wrist. "Well, ten fifteen now; but you have an appointment at the salon at eleven."

Edward hung his head in silence for a moment before speaking. "Emmett," he said. "Please don't tell anyone back home that you just came to wake me up at ten a-m on a Sunday - after what was, for me, an extremely late Saturday night, I might add - so that I can make my appointment at the salon."

Emmett chuckled. "Hey, you picked this silly profession, not me."

Edward just mumbled under his breath as he moved toward the bathroom and, ultimately, a hot shower.

As Emmett heard the water of the shower, he yelled through the doorway into the bathroom. "What the hell went on last night anyway?"

Edward groaned, his deep tones echoing off the tiles of the large room. "Christ, I have no idea. Any clues out there?"

Emmett looked around, propping himself against the door jam. "The usual. Booze bottles, discarded panties...although your attire this morning was new."

Edward laughed. "Burn that wig, will ya?"

"So you don't have any recollection of what happened here last night?"

Edward just groaned in response and Emmett shook his head. "Dude, you can't be doing this. You can't just have random people over to your house."

The water shut off and Emmett heard the shower door open as, he assumed, Edward stepped out.

"I'm serious," Emmett continued. "People could have ripped you off. Maybe they did rip you off."

Edward walked up next to him, a towel wrapped around his hips, his wet hair askew.

"Maybe they stole your scissors," Emmett chuckled. Edward just grimaced in response and walked toward his closet.

"If I don't remember, how do you know I had people over?" Edward yelled from behind the closet door.

"Uh - well, the random panties strewn about the room was a key indicator. And I know you drink a lot, but the number of bottles I collected off your floor today was astronomical, even for you. I think the clincher for me, though, was the bra. If you couldn't get out of it on your own, how would you have gotten in to it?"

Edward appeared then, clad in blue jeans and a gray tee shirt. His feet were bare, but he held a pair of Nikes in his hand. "You're smarter than you look, Em."

Emmett shrugged. "Hey, they don't just hand out degrees at UCLA for nothing you know."

"They do to football players," Edward grinned as he sat down on his bed and bent over to tie his shoes.

"Ha ha." Emmett pulled a small chair over to sit in front of Edward. "So what's the last thing you remember?"

Edward straightened up, a frown on his face as he tried to piece together the puzzle of his previous night's activities. His hand went to his hair and tangled there. "I went to Musee Cala," he said, finally, and Emmett groaned. "I know. I hate that place. But I was...restless."

Emmett rolled his eyes. He knew what that really meant. It meant that Edward was horny.

"I know I was drinking a lot...and some other things." Edward didn't clarify what he meant by "other things" because he knew that Emmett would not approve. They'd had the discussion before. Several times. Over the years, they had come to an unspoken understanding - Edward would do what he wanted to do, but restrict it to casual usage, keep it minimal and on the down low and keep it out of Emmett's line of sight. What Emmett didn't know wouldn't hurt him, or his opinion of his friend.

"There was a group of people there - oh, Jacob Black was there, remember him?" Emmett nodded, but Edward wasn't looking at him anyway. His gaze was unfocused, as he searched the air around him for clarification. "Damn...who was the little person?"

Emmett's eyebrows shot up. "Little person?"

Edward's eyebrows drew together. "Well, I hope so. That better not have been somebody's son." He shrugged and bent back down to his Nikes. "I think three women got in the car to come home with me. Well, three women and the little person...or child." He sat up. "Little person. Yeah, that was definitely a little person...anyway, I don't know who they were and I have no idea if they stole my scissors."

He stood up and Emmett followed in kind, replacing the little chair to its place in front of Edward's desk.

"Well, what about the bra?" Emmett asked. "The wig, the lipstick?"

Edward grabbed his wallet from off the top of the desk and opened it, assuring there was cash inside. Satisfied with what he found, he shrugged again. "I have no idea...We came back here, we were dancing up here - and drinking -" Edward's face went dead as he recalled something, then he grimaced. "Oh," he said. "I think we need to call a plumber."

"What? Why?"

Edward threw his arm around Emmett's shoulders as they started toward the stairs. "Just...I wouldn't look in the guest bathroom if I were you."

Emmett stopped in his tracks. "Dude! Did you harm my jacuzzi tub?"

Emmett was in love with the jacuzzi tub in Edward's guest bathroom and would have long ago impregnated it with his child, were that possible. Since they were such close friends and as they worked so closely together, it was not unheard of for Emmett to spend the night at Edward's place. In fact, it happened often. Sure, Emmett had his own condo in Brentwood, but he also knew that Edward's house was the same as his. If Edward had a party which ran especially late (and they always did), Emmett stayed; if the two of them stayed up late, trash-talking the cheerleaders after Monday Night Football, he stayed. When all of the video cameras on Edward's property went down as part of some electrical fluke, Emmett stayed until the problem was fixed, just be sure everything was secure. When Edward was out of town, if Emmett wasn't with him, he came by the house to make sure the landscapers were staying on top of things and - well, to make sure his jacuzzi tub wasn't getting lonely.

Knowing Emmett would be it's main and a regular tenant, Edward had the guest bathroom remodeled with his friend in mind, contacting a contractor mere days after he moved in. The fixtures in the double shower were adjusted to allow for Emmett's six foot three inch height. Likewise, the separate jacuzzi tub was especially built to accommodate his extremely large frame. It was the only tub Emmett had ever been in which actually allowed him the room to stretch out. Emmett utilized it's benefits often. Dealing with the logistics of Edwards' increasingly-complicated security concerns was a stressful gig.

This is not even to mention the fun times he has shared in that tub with members of the opposite sex.

It is insane how important some girls thought Emmett McCarty was to the future of the planet, purely because his main priority in life was the safety and well-being of Edward Masen. And those girls knew how to show their appreciation.

Sure, Edward had two other guest rooms; but they shared a bathroom and that bathroom was not designed specifically to adhere to Emmett's hulking form.

Edward patted Emmett's shoulders, in comfort. "We'll get it fixed, I promise. It will be nicer than ever."

Emmett dragged his feet, pouting as they made their way down the stairs. "What did you do?"

"Well...let me just say this...Never bet a little person that they can't dive in to two feet of water."

Edward's phone rang as they approached Emmett's black SUV and Emmett watched as Edward put the call to voice mail. Looking up, Edward saw that Emmett was watching him and he shrugged. "It's Alice," Edward said. "She's been pestering me all morning."

They got in to the vehicle, Emmett still looking at Edward. "Well, don't you think you should answer it?"

Edward shrugged again. "Ah, she probably just wants to get our shit straight before the awards tonight. She worries too much about these things. I'll talk to her later."

Emmett smacked Edward on the arm and Edward looked at him, incredulously, his hand rubbing his bicep. "Wake up, idiot!" When Edward just continued to look at him with an agitated expression, Emmett sighed and continued. "You went to Musee Cala last night, dude. Paparazzi capital of the world. And then you, based on all of the available evidence, walked out of there with three girls and a little person hanging off of you." Edward's face started to light up in recognition while Emmett continued. "You don't think there's the slightest chance that perhaps your publicist might be might be calling to discuss pictures which are now on Perez Hilton or some shit?"

Emmett started the car and he heard Edward let out a long gust of air as realization slowly dawned on him, whispering "Oh...shit..."

Emmett chuckled as he pulled his SUV out of the driveway. "Yeah - oh, shit."

Edward's phone rang again and Emmett said, "Answer it, will ya?"

Edward pulled it out of his pocket and grinned as he looked at the caller ID and hit the "Accept" button. "Hello there, sweetie," he said in to the phone.

And Emmett knew there was no way in hell he was speaking to Alice.

"Don't you 'sweetie' me, asshole. I hear you've been a bad, bad boy." The voice on the other end of the connection didn't sound truly upset; more like amused.

Edward sighed in to the phone. "What did you hear, Bella?"

"Well, actually, the only thing I've heard is you singing an extremely inebriated version of Stranger in the Night in to TMZ cameras, although you changed the lyrics to "Stranger in My Nightie". That was just before proclaiming rather loudly that you were about to go skinny dipping with a...well, as you called him - a midget. Then I watched as not just the midget, but three women of, shall we say, questionable character got in to your limo ahead of you."

The hand which wasn't holding his phone went to Edward's hair as he groaned. Bella chuckled on the other end.

"Honestly," she said. "I think you're gonna get in more trouble for calling him a midget than anything. I mean, you may have been about to fuck him - very open-minded of you, by the way - but you still called him a midget."

"I didn't fuck him," Edward said. His eyes were closed, his hand covering them; as if by blocking out the light of day, he could block out the disturbing feeling sinking in to his bones with every word out of Bella's mouth.

"No?"

"No...well, I don't think so...things are a little...hazy..."

Bella chuckled again. "Nobody else told you about this? It's kind of all over the internet this morning."

"Bella, I thought you didn't look at that shit."

"I don't, usually. Mike emailed a link to me and told me it was hilarious and that I must check it out. So I did. And I have to say - he was right."

Edward groaned again and Bella laughed.

"Cheer up, Edward. This will blow over, just like everything else does."

"Yeah, well thanks for calling to mock me in the meantime."

"My pleasure," she said. "But listen, we will need to get on the same page about this thing. You know we're gonna get bombarded with questions tonight."

Edward pulled his hand away from his face and opened his eyes. "Yeah, you're right. Shall I talk with Alice first?"

"Sure. I can't believe she hasn't been all over your shit about this already."

"Well, she's been calling. I've been ignoring her."

Bella laughed. "Oh, great. She'll be in a fabulous mood tonight."

"Hey, in my defense - I wasn't prepared to take calls this morning. I had a rough night."

Bella laughed again and the sound of her laughter made Edward smile. She was always able to cheer him up, even without trying. Especially when she wasn't trying, actually.

"Not as rough as the midget's, I'd wager," Bella laughed at her own joke. "Well," she said. "I'll talk to you in a bit, then. I have to go start making myself look beautiful for tonight."

"Well, that shouldn't take long," Edward grinned crookedly in to the phone. It was true. Bella Swan was a naturally beautiful woman.

When he disconnected his call, Emmett looked expectantly in his direction. He kept doing so, glancing from the road to Edward and back again. He watched as Edward's face broke in to a smile, then as he started chuckling moments later.

"What's going on?" Emmett asked. "That was Bella?"

Edward nodded and his chuckles turned to soft laughter. "Oh, man." He pulled his phone back in front of his face and started punching keys on it.

"Edward. Dude, what is it?"

But Edward was quiet for a few minutes, punching keys on his iPhone and driving Emmett crazy with anticipation.

Finally, Emmett heard what sounded like Edward - although a very drunk Edward - singing.

Stranger in my nightie

It was so tightie with a stranger in my nightie

Edward burst out laughing and Emmett couldn't help but laugh, too.

"Dude is that from last night?"

But Edward shushed him and held up his hand, continuing to look at the screen on his phone. Emmett listened as drunk-Edward yelled toward the cameras in slurred English which was broken several times by the beeps covering his curse words. At least it sounded like drunk-Edward has having fun. Drunk-Edward ended things by saying, "And now, friends, I must bid farewell. For I am off to go skinny dipping in the ocean with a midget!"

"Oh my god!" Present-day Edward exclaimed. "That's why there was sand in my Nikes!"