AN: Hello, all! Here's another fic I came up with when I should have been updating others! To the Twihards, hello, this was the fandom that introduced me to fanfiction, I hope you don't hate it too much. To my followers that wonder what the hell I'm thinking, don't worry, I'm not forgetting my other stories, this is something I wrote to get get my juices flowing.

Please don't take this story too seriously as I'm more of a humor writer than anything else.

When Bellamy was born, no one had been expecting him. Every ultrasound his parents had gotten said he would be a girl. His mother was ecstatic, daydreaming about all the fun she'd get up to when her daughter was a bit older. His father had dithered about, painting the nursery pastel colours and stocking up on plush toys, bragging to his friends at work how he'd spoil his little princess. They planned on naming him Isabella Marie, Isabella after the Spanish queen that funded Columbus, and Marie after his maternal grandmother.

When Bellamy came out a boy, they scrambled to catch up.

"What was the point of all those ultrasounds if none of them were right?" his father griped.

"Forget the ultrasounds, we can't name a boy Isabella Marie!"

The name Bellamy was suggested right off the bat, his mother actually having tossed a coin before to decide between that and Isabella. Beauregard was added afterward when his mother was struck by a fit of fancy at seeing her baby open his eyes for the first time. It was a combination that could be argued was too fancy for a small town in Washington but it stuck all the same. The small family returned to their cozy little house in the rainy town of Forks far happier than they had left.

Unfortunately, that happiness didn't stick around. Bellamy's mother, Renée, had a wandering soul, and had been on the cusp of drifting off again when she fell pregnant. She had fought on and off with Charlie about living in Forks, bemoaning the dullness of small-town life when the excitement of a baby on the way caught all her attention. Suffice to say baby Bellamy couldn't hold off his mother's wanderlust forever; three months after being born, Bellamy was carted off to California and his parents divorced.

"Just let me go, Charlie!" Renée exclaimed, balancing Bellamy on one hip as she threw open the door. Her bags were already in the car, a pack of over-night clothes and toiletries on her shoulder. She sounded exhausted and exasperated. "It didn't work out, okay? I really, really hate Forks!"

With that she walked out the door, not even once looking back. When given time to think on it, that was what stopped Charlie from chasing after her.

Bellamy's early childhood was spent at his grandmother's house while Renée was off getting a degree in teaching. Marie Higginbotham was a hard woman, but there was no denying that she doted on Bellamy. Marie was the one to teach him to walk, to talk, and eventually to read as well. For whatever reason, Marie got along with her grandson far more easily than with her daughter.

He was a sickly child, he had a weak constitution and often caught colds which usually meant he was too sick to go to school. When his attendance was spotty at best only during kindergarten, it was decided that he'd be home-schooled instead. Marie was a retired widow who lived comfortably on the cushy nest-egg her late husband had accumulated, and Renée — though a kindergarten teacher at the time — attracted men who thought nothing of spending money on her. Between the two women in his life, Bellamy was not neglected in any aspect of his up-bringing.

There had been a few awkward weeks of readjustment when Bellamy was six or seven when Renée moved them out from her mother's house and into Phoenix, Arizona, but they eventually situated themselves again, Bellamy being a low-maintenance child now that he wasn't getting sick as often as before and Renée being the flexible type. Bellamy was able to keep being home-schooled when Renée started dating some well-to-do guy named Stephan that pretty much decided that Renée was the one for him and that he wanted her to be a stay-at-home mom. It didn't last of course — Stephan was far too straight-laced for Renée's tastes — but by the time they broke up, Bellamy was around eleven and in Renée's mind, old enough to stay home alone when she was at work; all he had to do was stay inside and never answer the door, easy.

It seemed as if he had always known Renée was the flighty sort, and maybe in response to that Bellamy ended up being a lot more level-headed than one would expect of him. Oh, sure, he was still a bit of a ditz in personality — one didn't have Renée as a main role model without catching a few quirks — but there was no denying that Bellamy was no fool. He kept track of his mother's hobby of the week, her appointments, and kept the house organized enough that he always knew where she flung her keys and purse. When he could reach the stove, he taught himself how to cook, no longer satisfied with the mystery meals Renée whipped up or the take-out they'd order when she admitted that whatever it was she had created seemed to have formed its own sentience and was trying to escape.

When he was old enough to be put under the care of a flight attendant, Bellamy was sent to spend the occasional holiday with his father as well as most of the summers. Charlie was often more fussy than absolutely necessary when it came to taking care of his son. Bellamy was not as physically strong as the other boys his age and was also asthmatic, albeit only mildly. There had been many a panicked trip to the hospital over a fit of coughing and wheezing, and even though the doctors assured him that having a sit down and a few puffs on the inhaler would have Bellamy right as rain again, Charlie couldn't help but treat Bellamy with kid gloves.

Charlie's house was meticulously cleaned whenever Bellamy came to visit and activities that wouldn't cause hard panting were thought up. Fishing was good, as were a few rounds of catch. Football and baseball was right out but yoga was a thing, right? Or was it called pilates? It rankled Charlie's masculine pride doing something he categorized as city-girl nonsense, but if he wanted a method of exercise that wouldn't irritate Bellamy's lungs he didn't have many choices. So when it was just the two of them for the day, Charlie would pop in a pilates video and they'd bumble into positions, laughing all the while. Bellamy definitely inherited Charlie's lack of grace.

"We will never speak of this, Beau," Charlie had said solemnly. It had been their first try at it and they were collapsed on their exercise mats.

Bellamy snickered helplessly but nodded, too sore to verbalize.

Since he didn't attend public schooling, Bellamy never meshed well with kids his own age. It was not so much that they didn't get along but more that he didn't understand why they were so hung up on things he thought didn't matter at all. This disconnect resulted in him never having any real friends even though he did hang out with people. If asked, he would say that his mother was his best friend, and oddly enough that really was what they were. Renée tried to be a good example and be responsible, but it just wasn't in her natural disposition to do so; instead of mother and son, it was more like older sister taking care of baby brother.

While Bellamy wrote off many aspects of childhood as frivolous, one of the crazes he did understand was skateboarding. Skateboarding, rollerblading, and anything else that involved wheels really. Oddly enough, his lack of coordination didn't translate to skateboarding, and Bellamy won many hangout buddies with his skill. It wasn't eternal companionship that would last beyond a lifetime but it was social interaction all the same.

During the summer before Bellamy turned twelve, Charlie was forced to acknowledge a truth he had pointedly ignored since Bellamy had grown out of babyhood. It had punched him in the face when he met his son at the airport and saw the new, longer hairstyle the boy was trying out: Bellamy did not look like a boy. It wasn't just the androgyny of childhood either — though it was true the boy was baby-faced — Bellamy was simply a very pretty boy, pretty enough that several women at the diner they ate at that night had complimented him on having such a beautiful daughter.

Charlie was at a loss for what to do. He had no trouble with the fact that Bellamy would likely never be manly, he had accepted that since he knew that the boy's medical history would never let him be the sporty type. What Charlie worried about though was how being pretty would affect Bellamy mentally. Forks was not exactly a progressive town, and he didn't want to think about what could happen if some the ignorant yahoos that lived nearby bullied Bellamy for not being like them. Kids could be mean and Bellamy wasn't self-confident enough yet to brush off put-downs.

After talking about it with Renée, they decided that they'd all be better off if father and son met up at Marie's house for visits. Marie didn't care much for Charlie — she had disapproved of the marriage — but she agreed to host them when Charlie could take a few weeks off for vacation since that meant she saw more of Bellamy as well. Bellamy did pop up to Forks again once or twice but never during the summer.

All visits dropped off altogether though when Marie died. There was a bout of zero communication for a while. After Renée and Bellamy had composed themselves from their grief, Bellamy took to calling Charlie every few days in place of face-to-face interaction.

Renée's romantic heart finally caught up to her when Bellamy encouraged her to find a nice guy. After going through a few casual dates, she eventually struck gold when Bellamy was fifteen. She started seeing a minor league baseball player by the name of Phil Dwyer and they got on like a house on fire. She swooned and sighed and talked Bellamy's ear off about him, a dreamy expression on her face all the while. It was obvious she had it bad.

Phil tried his best but it was clear to Bellamy that the older man wasn't sure what to do with him. Phil grew up with older brothers who were just as rough and tumble as he was; he didn't know how to interact with a teenage boy that was artsy and studious instead, especially one that he had initial mistook for a girl. That had been an awkward moment for him though Renée and Bellamy had just brushed it off and laughed. Phil and Bellamy thought well of each other by the time the older man proposed to Renée, but they never clicked.

It was when Phil and Renée were finally married that Bellamy had to make a choice. Phil traveled for work and that meant moving from Phoenix. Renée was all for seeing more of the world, but truth be told Bellamy didn't see himself fitting into the picture. He loved his mother but he was pretty certain everyone involved would be a lot happier if he moved to Forks instead. This was Renée's chance to have a successful marriage and she needed to try it with a clean slate.

"You don't have to do this, Bell," Renee had said, urging him to reconsider.

He did have to do it though. He had seen how down in the dumps she had been when Phil flew off and she had to stay in Phoenix to take care of Bellamy while he took elective classes at the local high school. He finally put his foot down two and a half months into the school year when Phil's birthday came up and the couple had to settle for a phone call. It was ridiculous for them to be apart when there was such a simple solution. In any case, he had missed his father and spending the next few years before he went off to college with Charlie would be no hardship.

"It'll be fine, Mom," Bellamy said for must have been the hundredth time. He pulled her into a hug. "I've missed hanging out with Dad anyways. I'll email you when I get there."

Renée reluctantly let go, squeezing her boy's hand as she did.

It was with a grin on his face and bright wave to his mother that he boarded his flight. Five hours in the air, an hour drive from Port Angeles, and he'd be home-free.

Bouncing out from the baggage claim area, a skinny little teenager scanned the crowd for a familiar face. It wasn't very crowded that day and he stood out like a bum at an operahouse in his over-sized burnt-orange parka, dragging along a heavily decorated suitcase set and a cello case the colour of ketchup. His eyes lit up with glee when they landed on a mustached police officer awkwardly leaning against a pillar. At once, he bee-lined for the cop, his clunky messenger bag thumping against his leg.

"Dad!" he cried, climbing the man like a tree in his haste to hug the life out of his father.

Said man nearly staggered under the sudden weight.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed, catching the boy before he could slip off. "Easy there, Beau, you don't want to crack your head open, do you?"

"Pfft, you wouldn't drop me. I was more likely to brain myself unloading my carry-on than right now."

"All the same," the older man said, placing his son safely on the ground again. "Let's get your stuff to the car before we have to make a run for the emergency room."

Bellamy grinned but complied, returning to where he had ditched his trolley. Others greeted each other as they moseyed toward the exit, reflexively parting to leave a good chunk of space between them and the loud luggage. Bellamy yanked at the handle, getting the wheels that tended to jam used to movement again before he pushed it forward.

Charlie took control of the trolley when it was in grabbing distance and lead the way to where the car was parked.

"I get picked up in the cruiser?" Bellamy exclaimed when he saw where Charlie was leading them. "Totally badass!"

"Don't swear," Charlie admonished absently, loading the suitcases into the trunk. He eyed the remaining space. "I don't think this cello's going to fit here."

"Just lay it across the back seat," Bellamy replied, opening a back door. "But seriously, this is way cool. Could you cuff me? I wanna stage a break out when we reach town."

Charlie gave Bellamy a flat look that said exactly what he thought of such an idea.

"The last time you played with my handcuffs, we ended up having to remove the steering wheel altogether and find a locksmith to break the lock." The mustached man heaved the instrument into the backseat where it did indeed fit perfectly. He closed the door smartly and ducked into the driver's seat. "Who knows what might happen if you get your hands on them again."

Bellamy plopped into the passenger seat and crossed his arms petulantly.

"That was years ago!"

"The answer's still no. And I don't even want to think about what they'd think of you if you go flinging yourself out of a police cruiser, hand-cuffed or not."

Bellamy whined in protest as was usual for his age-group but it was more for propriety than actual disappointment.

They settled into a comfortable silence as they left the airport, neither one of them the type to blather on when it wasn't needed. Bellamy dozed a bit, drifting in an out of sleep, cracking his eyes open every so often when road signs caught his attention. He was brought fully back into consciousness when Charlie pulled into a restaurant just beyond the sign announcing their arrival into Forks proper.

The restaurant was one of those old-fashioned numbers, the kind retirees ate brunch in and truckers popped in for a warm meal at after refueling at the gas station on the other side of the road. The first step in brought the smell of grilling meat and potatoes wafting over them, teasing Bellamy's belly into waking up. He hadn't had anything to eat that day beyond a couple of yogurts at breakfast since he had slept through lunch on the plane.

The waitress was a sweet-faced middle-aged woman. She greeted Charlie familiarly and brought them over to a table next to the window, Charlie's usual spot from the way he almost glided into place. She took their drink orders and left them with a pair of menus.

"I'm ready to eat my weight in meat," Bellamy said, almost drooling over the burger choices listed before him.

Charlie snorted. He took a sip of his Coca-cola and set his menu down.

"I thought you were a vegetarian."

"When have I ever been a vegetarian?" Bellamy glanced up and pulled a face.

"Didn't you say a few weeks ago that you were trying out some new meat-free diet?"

"Not me. And I didn't say vegetarian. Mom was the one trying to go vegan. I on the other hand was rolling around in fried chicken when she wasn't looking."

"What's the difference?"

"Um, I think vegetarians still eat things like milk and eggs, and do it more for the health benefits while vegans don't eat any animal products and stay away from things made from animals like clothes made from fur or leather. There's not that much of a difference I think but apparently people get super nit-picky about being called the proper term."

"Well, vegan or vegetarian, I don't know how anyone could say no to a juicy burger."

"Is that your order, then?" the waitress said, reappearing with a notepad in her hands. She quirked her lips in a smile and raised her eyebrows. "You usually get the fried shrimp on Tuesdays."

"Yes, please," Charlie nodded. "The cheeseburger. Dealing with Beau always gets me too tired to deal with silverware."

"Hey!" Bellamy protested, mock offense on his face. He looked at the waitress and grinned. "Could I get the barbecue bacon burger with no coleslaw and some chili cheese onion rings?"

The waitress paused. She looked Bellamy over with a cautious eye.

"Are you sure, sweetheart? That's a lot of food."

Bellamy just nodded.

"And some jalapenos on the onions rings too, if you have them."

"Alright," she replied, gathering their menus. "I'll have that out for you in just a few minutes."

"She's right, you know," Charlie said, "That is a lot of food. Are you sure you'll finish it?"

Bellamy gulped down half of his glass of Sprite and smirked challengingly at Charlie.

"Don't underestimate me, I'll eat it all and have room to spare."

"Five bucks says you won't." The challenge was said loudly and drew the attention of those near them, particularly the truckers at the bar. Sly glances were exchanged and they nodded at each other.

"You're on. I'll even finish mine before you do yours!"

When their food arrived, the two fell onto their meals like wolves tearing into the belly of a deer. Charlie did the men of Forks proud, not pausing once as he chewed, only breathing through his nose when he was certain he wouldn't choke. It would've won any other contest if his opponent hadn't been his son.

Bellamy appeared to barely chew at all as he gnawed through the artery-clogging wad of meat in front of him. Chomp, chomp, swallow. Chomp, chomp, swallow. That was the pace he maintained as burger and onion rings were shoved into the black hole that was his mouth. He scarfed it down like he was storing up food for winter.

The other customers that sat in their section of the diner watched covertly in amazement as the undersized twig of a teenager all but gobbled his meal whole. When Bellamy pulled back from his empty plate and fell back against his seat with a thud, knocking back the rest of his drink, they applauded and cheered, some even getting to their feet for a standing ovation. Money was exchanged

Charlie looked up incredulously and sighed in defeat at seeing his son's plate all but licked clean. He glanced mournfully down at his 3/4 eaten burger. So close! How had the boy finished his as well as those onion rings so fast?

He made a sour face as Bellamy got to his feet and played to his audience, bowing and waving grandly.

"Shoulda known you'd eat like your mother."

The next morning, Bellamy woke up early to have time to make breakfast before he left for school. Charlie's cooking was as abysmal as Renée's, and if it hadn't been for the few diners dashed around town he would've been living off of the fish he caught on his fishing trips with Billy and ordered pizza. It was extremely unhealthy, and the least Bellamy could do in thanks for letting him move in was to prepare meals that wouldn't have them in an early grave from a heart attack at fifty.

They had bumbled home later last evening, lazy and sleepy from their full stomachs. They moved Bellamy's things from the car into his room but nothing was really unpacked beyond the bathroom stuff and pajamas he'd had in his messenger bag. He'd fallen asleep as soon as he set his alarm and didn't wake up again until he almost fell out of bed at having the alarm blaring in his ear. Bellamy had never used an alarm clock before, the elective classes he took being in the afternoon, and he was not at all pleased to know that it was worse than he had expected.

He shuffled like a zombie to the shower and violently woke himself up when he forgot to turn the tap for hot water on. It was only his hope to not wake Charlie that stopped him from howling at the freezing temperature. Oh, God, he might have just given himself frostbite!

Tip-toeing back to his room, Bellamy threw on a long-sleeved cotton shirt and a pair of loose, faded jeans. He looked like he was trying out for a Backstreet Boys music video, all fluttering white clothes, so he pulled a graphic tee over it as well. He fiddled with his hair for a bit, pulling it back in a way that it didn't flutter into his eyes, before he deemed himself fit to be seen in public and popped down into the kitchen.

The smell of coffee and French toast was what woke Charlie in the end. The older man made his way into the kitchen all bleary eyed though he had already washed and dressed and plopped into a seat at the little table on the other side of the kitchen counter. He sighed in appreciation when a mug of coffee was presented to him and finally opened his eyes completely when the caffeine was pumping. He was about to verbalize his gratitude when the sight of his son made him pause.

Bellamy was fluttering around the kitchen in an apron Charlie hadn't known he'd owned. Without the parka he had worn the night before, he looked even smaller, skinny wrists on display as he had pushed up his sleeves to keep them from getting dirty. His pants pooled at his feet, obviously made for someone taller and the shirt wasn't much better, the collar wide enough to slip around, shifting to one side to reveal a bit of shoulder. The whole outfit made him look like he was playing dress-up with his older brother's clothes. What took the cake though was Bellamy's hair. When had it gotten so long? Charlie had never seen it so long before. The boy had it up in a strange braid that sort of looked like a mohawk from the side.

"What are you wearing?" Charlie asked when his mouth caught up to his brain.

Bellamy looked up from where he was moving a slice of egg-soaked bread into butter. He looked down at himself and frowned.

"What's wrong with it?" he asked.

"They're so big on you! And what have you done to your hair?"

The boy in question rolled his eyes as he spooned fruit topping onto a plate of already finished toast and set it in front of Charlie. He picked up another plate of food and sat across from his father as he dug in.

"I didn't exactly have many clothes warm enough for northern America. Phil gave me some hand-me-downs when me and mom were thinking about getting new clothes."

Charlie grunted at hearing Phil's name.

"And the hair?"

"Jeez, I'm growing it out for charity! I used to get haircuts all the time since it grows like weeds but now I cut it once a year and send it to Locks of Love for those kids with cancer that can't grow their own."

Charlie nodded slowly at this.

"That's nice of you. I didn't know you did that."

Bellamy chewed on a chunk of apple and nodded.

"I used to play with this kid who had a cousin with cancer. He grew his hair out too and I figured that since I was just going to chop it off anyways, I might as well cut it when it's long enough to make into a wig."

"Why do you have it like that though?"

"Do you not like it?" Bellamy flicked the tail of the braid over his shoulder and held it out the side. "A girl in my Spanish class taught me ways to style it so it wasn't always in my face or shoved inside a cap. This one's a fishtail fauxhawk braid. I thought it looked kind of cool."

"Well, I suppose you would know." Charlie wasn't an expert on fashion. The style of dress in Forks was pretty low maintenance even with the high school girls, only ever getting done up for things like parties and prom. If Bellamy said his braided fishhawk or whatever it was called was fashionable, Charlie would believe him. And it wasn't as if Charlie thought it looked bad, it was just that he was once again slapped in the face with how pretty his boy was, long hair only adding onto it. He thought Bellamy would have grown out of it by now but the opposite seemed to have happened.

Maybe it was time to brush off the ol' shotgun, Charlie thought, watching as Bellamy absentmindedly twirled his hair. After all, times were changing and people were more progressive nowadays. He had heard from Billy about his son-in-law having a younger brother that was seeing another boy. Apparently such things were becoming common. What if some boy up at that school took a liking to Bellamy? What if Bellamy came home one day with some meathead that only wanted to get into his pants?

No, not his sweet little boy! Charlie was beginning to panic. He had thought he was safe from such worries when his kid came out a male! What if Bellamy brought home a boy? How was he supposed to fend of no-good boys when his own kid was a boy? What if he brought home a girl and she turned out to be a lesbian because she thought he was a girl as well? It wasn't like guys expected their fathers to scare off girl/boyfriends. Hell, how was he supposed to keep them away from his kid without coming off as homophobic?

"I'll come with you today!" Charlie blurted, just managing to keep hysteria out of his voice.

"Hmm?" Bellamy looked and blinked in confusion.

Charlie could only curse mentally. Did he have to be so cute?

Put away those doe eyes, Beau, Charlie thought. They will only lead to your ruin.

"I'm heading out in that direction anyways," Charlie said as nonchalantly as he could manage. He clearly didn't manage well enough, judging by the way Bellamy narrowed his eyes. "The school's easy to miss so I'll just show you the way. If we have enough time, we could get your schedule together as well."

Bellamy obviously knew something was up but it was equally obvious that he had no idea what it was. When he could think of no reason to not go along with Charlie's plan, he agreed. Charlie internally jumped with joy; his plan to keep Bellamy from falling victim to his own thoughtlessly feminine wiles was a go!

"I'll just go get my bag then."

The boy cleared away the table and dashed up the stairs. When he came back down, Charlie was pulling on his uniform jacket and checking his gun. Bellamy had returned with zip-up hoodie on, his enormously large messenger bag slung across his shoulders, and a skateboard clutched in one hand.

Charlie frowned in confusion when he saw the skateboard.

"Where was that? I didn't see it with your other stuff."

Bellamy opened the front door and stepped out.

"It was in this bag; I didn't trust them not to break it in the cargo hold."

Charlie unlocked the car and slipped inside.

"Wasn't that cello your carry-on? I thought you were only allowed to have one."

Bellamy smiled slyly, tapping his nose.

"Purses don't count as carry-on. A little batting of the eyelashes and they thought I was a chick and let me bring it with me."

Charlie deflated a bit. Maybe he wasn't as thoughtless as Charlie thought.

AN: To those new to my stories, don't expect fast updates. On top of this being an underdeveloped plot-bunny and me being a shameful procrastinator, Twilight just isn't my fandom.