Disclaimer: All of the characters, concepts, and anything affiliated with the Twilight saga belong to (their rightful owner) Stephanie Meyer. The rest of the work belongs to me and should not be copied in any way, including translations, without my explicit consent.

Major thanks to Flyaway Dove for Beta-ing this.

Set: Sometime after BD.

Note: Jake never imprinted on Nessie.

Leah's POV

Work it Out

"Oh my god! Will you two stop bitching, already!" Quil yells, just as I was about to pitch a fit at Jacob again. "God, I can't take it anymore!" he cries, raking his hands through his hair.

Embry nods. "I mean, fuck! We get it, okay?"

"Jake is an annoying bastard," Seth says, pointing to Jacob.

"And Leah is a bitter bitch," Quil finishes with an eye roll.

Embry lets out a frustrated sigh and glares at the both of us. "We're fed up with you two fighting all the time."

I'm about to argue that we don't fight all the time when Seth cuts me off. "Yes, you do. All the time."

With a huff, I cross my arms over my chest and plop down onto the couch. We wouldn't have to fight all the time if our dear Alpha, I-must-be-an-ass-about-everything-Jacob Black, would just stop being such an annoying prick that fails to see anything that resembles reason and logic.

I turn around and look at the ass beside me. I glare at Jacob and practically yell at him with my eyes: "This is all your fault. A pedophile, a bastard, and my brother, because of you, are lecturing us. If it weren't for your idiocy, I wouldn't have to yell at you and then the guys wouldn't be so pissed about our yelling. It's all your fault!"

He raises an eyebrow and glares right back as if saying, "My fault? My fault! You bitch and nag all the time! 'Jake do this! No, don't do that! Do it like this!' Nothing is ever good enough!"

"You're like an old married couple," Embry comments.

Seth looks from me to Jacob, noticing our silent argument and adds, "Only worse."

Quil, also having seen our argument, agrees with Seth, "Yeah, at least if you guys were married, when one of you dies the other could get a nice chunk of change from an insurance policy. Now," he shakes his head, "neither one of you would benefit from dying."

"Not necessarily," Jake mutters dryly.

I roll my eyes at his comment, like I want him to be here right now either. But, of course, I'm the 'Bitchy Beta' and make everyone's life hell. I glance over at him and imagine myself killing him. The "after" part would be nice. It would be quieter, the pack would run smoothly with me in charge, and I would finally be able to 'officially' boss Quil and Embry around. He's right, I would benefit from his demise.

Jake glances at me and studies my expression, trying to figure out what I'm thinking. I flash him a sarcastic smile while fluttering my eyelashes in an 'innocent' manner. "Take that you jackass. We'll see who kills who."

While I'm doing this, Embry and Seth are staring at Quil like he's gone insane, which he probably has. Of all the things to think of, let alone say, he's saying that it would be tragic if either one of us would die because the other wouldn't get an insurance payout.

He really needs to stop sniffing Claire's glue from arts and crafts.

Seeming to recover from Quil's comment, Embry tells us, "So, just do us all a favor and shut the fuck up."

"We love you both, but we won't hesitate to kill either one of you," Seth adds in a serious tone.

"We're fed up having to listen to both of you bitch about each other," Quil says while giving both of us a pointed stare.

"We think that you both need to work some issues out," Embry tells us with a doctorly nod that could rival Carlisle's.

We need to work issues out? Please, Quil has a glue-sniffing and Nickelodean addiction; Embry has 'Who's my Daddy?' issues; Seth idolizes all males in power. Yeah, Jake and I are the ones in this little renegade pack that have issues. I roll my eyes at all three of them.

Seth nods his head in agreement. "So you guys just stay here and work your issues out. We'll be back in an hour or two."

The three of them back out of the room slowly and stop when Jake asks, "What do you mean you'll be 'back' soon? Where the hell are you going?"

I nod in agreement, where are they going? No, I know where Quil is going, (to Claire's to watch her movies and sniff her glue), but where are the other two going?

"Yeah, where do you think you're going?" I ask them sharply.

Embry is brave enough to answer. "We're leaving you two here to work out your issues with one another. Alone."

Seth nods and adds, smiling, "Think of it as a time to bare your souls and work out all of your problems together."

"Fuck, you're making us do therapy?" Jake yells angrily.

Angry as well, I yell at the idiots in front of me. "You ass-raping douche-hats! We do not need therapy! Let alone group therapy!"

Group therapy is a terrible idea. Instead of talking about our anger, we'd probably kill each other. There would be no group left. Although killing each other would do wonders for expressing anger…

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. This isn't group therapy," Quil clarifies.

Embry points to us. "You two would kill each other."

Ah, so the idiots do get it.

"Just think of it as…" Seth searches for the right word. "Think of it like an intervention."

Smiling, Embry agrees. "Exactly."

Cocking an eyebrow, I ask them, "An intervention? Really?"

After looking at each other, the three stooges nod.

"What's the point? We're not addicted to anything, we're not alcoholics or on drugs," Jake tells them.

I hold back a snort when he says we're not on drugs. C'mon, he was "in love" with Bella. Some of that had to be drug-induced. I'm thinking ecstasy.

"Actually," Quil explains, "an intervention is a deliberate process where change is introduced into peoples' thoughts, feelings and behaviors."

We all stare at him in disbelief. He actually knows what an intervention is. What the hell is in the glue he's been sniffing? Or is his body just regenerating stronger and better brain cells after he kills them all from sniffing glue?

"It usually involves several people preparing themselves, approaching a person, or in this case people, involved in some self-destructive behavior, and talking to the people in a clear and respectful way about the behavior in question with the immediate objectives being for the person to listen and to accept help," he says, making hand gestures to accentuate his point.

Regenerating. The cells must be super-wolf-brain cells. They have to be because the old Quil couldn't even tie his own shoes.

For the record, his shoes were Velcro.

With one last breath, Quil finishes, "The overall objective of an intervention is to begin to relieve the suffering of the people engaged in the behavior and the suffering of family and friends witnessing the self-destructive behavior."

Oblivious to our staring, Quil clarifies, "For the record, it's both of your destructive behavior, which is to say your constant anger and hostility towards each other, that is allowing us," he gestures to himself, Embry and Seth, "your family and friends, to suffer."

Looking at all of us brightly, Quil claps his hands and gestures to the door. "Well, now that we've cleared that up, we'll leave you two to work it out, shall we?"

Unable to say anything, Jake and I watch as an equally dumbfounded Seth and Embry follow Quil out of the house.

After a few minutes, Jake finally manages to speak. "What the hell was that?"

"Quil… He just… Wow," I say, dumbfounded.

"Yeah," he agrees with a small nod.

We fall into silence, the only sound in the room being our breathing.

"Well, you might as well apologize now, Black," I tell him, breaking the comfortable silence.

I'm not going to apologize. It's his fault we're here.

"I'm not apologizing! It's your fucking fault! If you wouldn't nag at me the entire time we're on patrol-" Jake starts before I interrupt him.

"Nag? I do not nag." He looks at me incredulously. "I merely point out all of your mistakes and make sure you know all of the other better options."

"The guys are right," Jake says, shaking his head. "I see no way of us working our issues out."

I do. Only one of us will survive.

"Well, if you would actually listen to me and do things the right way…" I trail off.

"Well we might as well just make you Alpha, shouldn't we Leah? I mean, clearly you find me incapable to lead."

"That's not what I meant," I try to tell him. That wasn't what I meant at all. He's a great Alpha, the true Alpha, he just needs to listen and be careful, actually plan things out so no one in the pack, including his dumbass, will get hurt. I worry about the pack sometimes…

Fuck, I'm such a girl.

"Really? Because I don't see any other way our fighting will stop," he shouts.

"It'll stop when you stop being an idiot," I tell him, crossing my arms over my chest. There was no need for him to yell. We're sitting on the same couch, we're not miles apart.

"Well I'll stop being idiot when you stop being a bitch," he retorts.

God, what a child.

"Fine," I bite out.

"Fine," he agrees.

We sit there in silence. I glare at him and cross my arms tighter over my chest when he catches my eye. All I can here is our breathing. In, out. In, out.

After a while, Jake's breathing relaxes into deep breaths and sighs.

I listen to this for about five minutes before I snap, "Must you breathe so loud?"

"Okay, that's it we should just get married right now because I can't take you bitching at me all the god damned time! At least when we're married you'll have some excuse to bitch at me for every little thing!" Jake shouts.

I look at him, open-mouthed. I do not bitch about every little thing! And what's this about "marriage"?

"Did you just propose?" I ask him skeptically.

"No," he scoffs, rolling his eyes.

Oh yea, like the thought of being married to be is so awful. "I hate you," I mutter.

"You love me," Jake says arrogantly.

I snort and try to settle back into silence. Noticing the absent sarcastic and/or biting comment from me, Jake asks surprised. "Wait, do you?"

I roll my eyes and tell him, "Shut up. The silence was working for us."

"Is that a 'no'?" he asks curiously.

Deciding to tell him the truth, I tell him, "No."

Smiling, he asks, "Is it a 'yes'?"

I glare at him. If it's not a "no", then what's my answer? Honestly!

Annoyed, I snap at him, "No."

"Are you going to give me a straight answer?" he asks with a sigh.

Stubbornly, I tell him, "No."

Disappointed, he huffs, "Fine."

"Fine," I quip.

We sit in silence and enjoy each other's company. After a while, I lean my head against his shoulder with a contented sigh.

Jake wraps his arm around my shoulders and whispers, "I love you, Lee."

And I know that even with all my bitching, my nagging, (which is really just my concern for him), my biting comments, my need for arguments, my emotional instability, and many other faults, that he really does love me.

I look up at him and give him a small smile, knowing that, even with all of his faults, I do care about him. Which is why my, "I love you, too," is able to flow so easily from my lips.

I snuggle deeper into his arms just as he tightens his grip on me.

Jake leans his head on top of mine and we sit there, content with everything the way it is.

Alpha and Beta.

Jake and Leah.

Me and him.

We always work it out.