Spring With the Cullens
By Holly-Batali

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or the awesome Jasper. I wish I did, but there's life for you. Character Credit goes to Stephenie Meyer. Though, I've actually done something she has not: given Jasper a better sense of humor.

Author's Note: This is a story from Bella's point of view. It's all about how good the Cullens are about putting up with Esme's crazy "Mom Schemes." First story of four; set right after Twilight.

Chapter One: Shoot the Piano Player

"Bella, are you sure you're comfortable? Do you want another pillow? I could get you some tea or something--"

"Edward!" I said, exasperated, "I'm fine. For the millionth time," I added in an undertone.

"Well, all right...I mean, if you're sure..."

"Yes, I'm sure."


"Yes! I'm positive!"

"You're certain--"


"Okay! I'm just making sure." I restrained myself from rolling my eyes, though with great difficulty. Ever since I had broken my leg, Edward had been all over the whole rest-and-relaxation-helper thing. It was flattering at first; now it was just plain annoying.

"Maybe you can play the piano for me," I suggested gently, trying to inconspicuously steer him away from butler mode.

His eyes brightened. "Okay!" He picked me up and brought me over to the couch by the piano, setting me down gently. "Are you comfortable?"

I sighed. "Yes. I'm comfortable." 10...9...8...7...

"Are you sure?"




Okay. The counting to ten thing was not working. Uno...dos...tres...quatro...cinco...

"Edward; just play the stupid piano."

"Okay." He smiled and sat down. "This is a really good one," he said. "It's French; traditionally it's played with guitar and vocals, though. It's called La Derniere Bergere."

I smiled in what I hoped was a patient manner, and waited as he settled into his piece. As usual, it was amazing. After a lot of Ludovico Einaudi, Debussy, and a few of his own compositions, I started to get really sleepy. It must have been the weather or something. You know, spring in Forks isn't all that bad; sure it's pretty chilly, but it's actually really pretty...

I heard a stomping of feet--very loud feet--coming down the staircase as Emmett and Jasper walked down, both wordlessly singing Shoot the Piano Player: Charlie at the top of their lungs. It was kind of annoying, but then again, they were Emmett and Jasper.

"Hey Edward," said Emmett, way too innocently. "Whatcha doin'?"

"Nothing," replied Edward, plowing on with Esme's Song. Emmett and Jasper exchanged a glance. Jasper started whistling that song again, raising his eyes to the ceiling.

Edward stopped playing.

"Jasper," he said carefully, "what are you thinking?"

"Nothin'." said Jasper, again, way too innocently.

Edwards eyes widened, and he jumped up. "You wouldn't!" He yelled at Emmett, who grinned at Jasper. The two of them looked like evil cheshire cats. "I'll tell Esme!" threatened Edward in a repressed younger brother voice.

"Shoot the piano player," sang Edward's two older brothers, and then they leapt at him.

Edward yelped and they all went tumbling to the floor in a flailing mass of limbs.

Esme heard the commotion and came downstairs just moments later. "Boys!" she yelled. They all disentangled and stood up; Jasper and Emmett snickering (I take it they won) and Edward sulking. "Boys, what are you doing? You aren't supposed to fight in the house; if you have to fight, do it on the lawn; or better yet, the mountains."

"They started it," Edward whined, pointing at Emmett and Jasper.

"I don't care who started it," Esme continued firmly, "I'm going to finish it. Jasper, you should know better than that. Edward, you're setting a terrible example, not to mention the impression you all made on poor Bella. I want you to apologize, now."

"Sorry Bella," they all chorused obediently. Edward looked ashamed, but Emmett couldn't care less. Jasper was still snickering.

"Now shake hands and apologize, all of you." She cut off the immediate protests from all three boys with a stern glance. They sullenly shook hands, and turned their backs to each other. As Emmett and Jasper walked away, I could hear them whistling it again; Shoot the Piano Player...

Edward glared at them, mumbling something under his breath. I shook my head as I picked out phrases like 'pick on the talented one' and 'not my fault you have no taste in music.' Jeez, I never realized what a whiner Edward is! He's like a little kid! Jeez, they're all acting like a bunch of five-year-olds.