Wow. Since so many of you have emailed me asking if I could write a Quil/Claire story I finally decided to. :) This is a bit different because I'm starting out with her older and theres this huge, untold storyline behind them both. Then I finally figured it out. I'm pretty sure I'll be tossing in a few flashbacks from her childhood, involving Quil or remembering what she felt then. Got any ideas for flashbacks? Email me at: or IM me: ackelen .
Remember, I'm running on suggestions, so if you have any feel free to tell me. Enough stalling. Here it is.
I blinked against the bright light steaming into my room, confused by the sudden turn of events. One minute I had been dreaming of kissing Jackson Harrower and the next I was looking into the face of my best friend, peering over me eagerly to see if I was awake yet.
"Quil," I groaned, pulling the duvet over my head and snuggling back down into the nest I had made from my covers. "Do you know how early it is? The Queen of England isn't even up yet."
"Thats because the Queen is on a different time zone." He sat on the same of the bed and tugged at the sheet i was gripping. "Come on, Claire. It's already ten. Do you know what that means? In two hours it will be noon. Noon!" He said this as if it was unbelievable.
"Oh, good. Wake me up then, would you?"
He was going to beg. He knew I would get up if he begged. Damn him.
"Claire, we never spend any time together anymore."
"I just saw you yesterday! And the day before that! You're starting to sound like my mother."
In my own defense I would like to think I sounded very convincing, but Quil was Quil. Sometimes I think he would jump off the edge of the Earth if that would make me happy. I guess it seemed a little odd. I was fourteen, nearing fifteen and when I get him to talk about his age he tells me hes around 20...ish. It's never been a bad thing, though. He's been around for as long as I can remember; sort of like a personal guardian or the ultimate big brother.
"Your parents are already at work and your sisters been at the beach for hours. I definitely think you should be up." His giant hands were tugging at the sheet again.
Don't get me wrong, though. He isn't the most easygoing guy when it comes to- what I consider- my own personal decisions. Like last week when I was in the woods beside my house, so close to kissing Jackson and then... BAM! Quil is there asking Jackson why he isn't home yet and asking me what I'm thinking letting a guy do that. This also holds true for all the times I've tried to sneak out of the house or drop by a party someones having. Quil always superimposes himself into situations that he doesn't think are good for me.
Come to think about it thats probably why I'm almost fifteen and I've never: drank alcohol, smoked a cigarette, been kissed. I haven't even had a real boyfriend who wasn't too scared to touch me because some six-foot, two-hundred-plus pound guy threating to rip their arms off.
"Quil." I was awake now, but fairly annoyed. I had never been much of a morning person.
"Go. Away." My grip was slipping on my only protection from the new days sun.
"The one nice day we have in Forks all summer and you want to waste it."
"I forbid it."
"Tough luck, buddy." I was beginning to go back to sleep when the sheets were ripped completely off my body.
"There we go." He said wadding the pile of blankets into a ball and throwing them in my hamper.
"Fine! I'm up, I'm up for Christs sake." I muttered, rolling into a ball against the sudden chill.
He grinned triumphantly before looking at me more closely. I could have sworn I saw him blush slightly under his dark skin before he asked, "Since when do you were boxers to bed?"
"Since now, apparently." I swung my legs off the bed, adjusting my teeshirt before he got a wonderful view of my back.
"Ah. Well," He squared his shoulders, his eyes on the ceiling. "You get ready and I'll make some breakfast to go. What do you say?"
"I say wonderful. Where are we going?" I was beginning to get my bearings now. Pretty soon I would be able to function like I proper person.
"Seattle." He said, smiling at the ceiling.
"Even better. I can sleep in the car." I picked through my clothing drawers, grabbing a pair of jeans and a tank top. Hopefully that would make up for him getting me up on my Saturday morning.
When I turned eleven and started developing a chest, he began to get finicky about what I wore. Not in a creepy Amish way, though. It was more like I was some great present no one had the right to see. Sometimes I couldn't help but annoy him; when hes angry he gets flustered and can't talk right. It's hilarious to watch.
"You will most certainly not be sleeping on the ride there." He was looking down now, eying the shirt I had in my hands.
"Well..." I waited, swaying gently.
"What?" He raised one dark eyebrow.
"I wasn't sure if you were going to stand here and watch me change or go make some toast or something?"
"Oh." He looked like he was about to choke before he rushed from the room, closing the door behind him.
I shook my head and stripped off my pajamas. These days... Sometimes Quil could be so odd.