FML Contest

Title: Fruitcake

Pen name: Kindall W

Characters: Bella/Edward

Disclaimer: SM owns all things Twilight. I got stuck owning fruitcake.

Warning: There is talk of homosexuality. It was what I was given. I had to roll with it. I love everybody.

Beta: Smfogleman

To see the rest of the entries in this contest, please visit the FML C2: http://www./community/FML_Contest_Fics/77195/

FML PROMPT: Today, my entire extended family was over for Christmas. I opened a gift to see that it was a fruitcake and saw everyone looking at me, smiling. This is their way of telling me that they know I'm gay and that they accept me. I'm straight. FML.


A/N: Oh, god, I hope my grandmother never reads this...I swear, the prompts we were given were totally random. I love everyone. No harm intended. Please know that when you read this, my tongue was firmly planted in my cheek. M'kay?


I fucking hated Christmas. I hated it with the passion of Lindsay Lohan's infested, fiery crotch.

For as far back as I could remember, my mother, Esme, had made a big deal out of it. And each year, it got progressively worse. Her sister's family from Alaska (the proud home of Sexy Sarah, need I say more?) always came to stay with us, and I'd be damned if my own cousin, Tanya, didn't try to crawl in bed with me at least once during their stay. Inbred, much? She should have been born in Kentucky.

Needless to say, it was an awkward affair, and I did my best to steer clear of everything and everyone. The only time I bothered to show my face was when my father threatened to cut off my nuts for disappointing my mom. If you hadn't met my father, Carlisle, you would think it was an empty threat. I assure you, it was not. He was a surgeon. He knew exactly what to do and how to do it to inflict the maximum amount of pain. Sure, he's all charm and grace on the outside, looking like a walking advertisement for Ralph Lauren. On the inside, however, he was the type of guy who had no qualms about tearing you limb from limb if you fucked with his wife. That extended to his children as well.

To make matters worse, my sister, Alice, had turned into a Mini-Esme. I feared for the sanity of her unborn children. What I'd been forced to endure will pale in comparison to what Alice will put them through. The poor rug rats will be dressed from head to toe in elf costumes, complete with glitter, bells and pointy shoes.

So it was with a heavy heart that I once again found myself sitting on the couch in the great room of our house, praying for the moment the gift exchange was over and I could return to my room to smoke a fatty. My mother and her hyper, holiday helper, Mini-Esme, were flitting about, doling out our gifts. My brother, Emmett, and his girlfriend, Rosalie, were making out on the loveseat (as per the usual – my parents had long since given up trying to get them to discontinue the PDA) and Alice's boyfriend, Jasper, was talking to my father about some Civil War novel his parents got him for Christmas. Blah, blah, blah. Kill me now.

Our cousins from the north were scattered around the room, and Tanya, that little slut, was sitting in an entirely too-short skirt on the hearth of the fireplace with her legs wide open. Of course, she was staring right at me. Yep, no panties there. Glad to see we've maintained the status quo.

My mother set one beautifully wrapped package in my lap. The rest of my stack lay at my feet. "Edward, we'd like you to open this one after everyone else opens all of their gifts." She smiled sweetly at me and took her place next to my father. Okay. That's weird, but whatever. I'll play along, I thought.

Everyone tore into their gifts, and I honestly couldn't tell you what anyone got, because fuck, I just couldn't have been bothered to give two shits. I opened all of mine, with the exception of the one my mother had asked me not to, and said the appropriate "thank-you's."

Once everyone had finished unwrapping their presents and the great room was filled with a mountain of wrapping paper, my mother stepped towards me and grabbed my hand.

"Edward, dear, would you please open your present now?" she asked.

I shrugged, not giving a shit about anything except getting back to the ganja as quickly as possible and tore through the paper. What the fuck?

In my lap lay a fruitcake. A big, ugly, disgusting fruitcake.

I raised my eyebrows at my mother, silently asking, "Exactly what the hell is this fuckery?"

That's when I realized the deafening silence in the room, and that all eyes were trained directly on me. Oh shit, they're doing an intervention. Do they do interventions for weed-smokers?

"Oh, thanks," I said, "but I'm on a diet." Well, at least Emmett laughed.

"Son," my father began. "I know you must be confused about the gift. Let's just say it's symbolic. We want you to know that we know what you really are, and more importantly, we support your lifestyle choices."

My mom sniffled and turned her head into my father's shoulder. Emmett, that d-nozzle, snickered. Rosalie sat quietly, her face set in stone as it usually was. Alice curled into Jasper's lap and sobbed. Tanya still had her legs open.

"My lifestyle choices?" I asked incredulously. "What the hell is going on here?"

"Edward," Alice said. "We know you're gay. We just want you to know that we love you and we're all okay with it."

I'm certain my eyes popped out of my head. I know Tanya's did. Hmm, this might not be such a bad revelation if it gets her off my jock, I thought.

"Um, this is all very funny," I began. "Ha, ha. Good one. Now where are the hidden cameras?"

"There are no cameras, Edward," my mom said. "This isn't a joke. Honey, we've known there was something different about you for a long time now. It's the only explanation. You never bring girls home. You keep to yourself most of the time. I knew you were hiding something. It took us awhile to figure it all out, but it's the only thing that makes sense."

"Mom, I don't bring girls home because I wouldn't touch the skanks in this town with a ten-foot pole double-wrapped in Trojans," I wailed. "That doesn't make me gay." I couldn't believe this was happening. Gay? Me? Fuck my life.

"Alright, explain the hair, dude." Jasper demanded.

"What about it?" I replied.

"It's always perfect," he stated bluntly.

"And that makes me gay?" My hair? What the hell?

"It's a good indication," he sighed.

"So, you're saying all gay men have perfect hair? Have you ever seen Clay Aiken's hair? Or Boy George's?"

"Exceptions to the rule, bro," he replied.

"Well, if that's the case, then you should look in the mirror, dude, 'cause you've got that sex mop thing going on yourself," I snarled.

"See! You just said sex mop! Straight men don't say shit like that," he chuckled.

"They do if they have Alice for a sister. She never shuts up about that crap."

"Language, boys!" Esme yelled.

"Sorry, mom," I said. Jasper apologized as well.

My head was reeling. They thought I was gay because of my hair? Fuck, I don't even try to do it. It looks the same no matter what I do. There had to be more to it than they were letting on.

"Alright, I'll play along," I said, pissed off as all hell. "I'd love to hear what other reasons you geniuses have come up with in order to classify me as a card-carrying member of the fudge-packing society. Lay 'em on me."

"Edward Anthony, you know I despise that kind of talk," Esme chastized.

"I'm sorry, mom, but I'm having a little difficulty being affable at the moment," I replied. "But pray tell, mother. What's your take on this?"

"Well, honey," Esme began, "there's your music, for one."

"How does that make me a homosexual?" I asked, honestly not seeing the link.

"You have a propensity towards playing the works of gay composers," she stated.

"Such as?" I queried, raising my eyebrows and gesturing with my hand for her to continue.

"Peter Allen, Cole Porter, Steven Sondheim, Tchaikovsky..." she rattled off.

"Mom, you taught me to play their songs!" I exclaimed.

"I know, sweetheart, but you do seem to gravitate to them."

I shook my head, still not understanding the connection between the music I chose to play and my sexuality.

"Of course," Alice started, "there's also Elton John and Barry Manilow. You do like to play Copacabana a whole hell of a lot."

"I only play that when I'm hammered, Pipsqueak!" I responded loudly. "That shit is funny!"

"You know I don't approve of underage drinking, Edward," Esme chimed in. I was pretty sure I was the only one that found it ironic that she was more concerned about my foul language and abuse of illegal substances than she was about my gayness.

"What about your love for Barbara Streisand?" Jasper asked. "It's a well known fact that she's an idol in the gay community."

"Dude, seriously, I got up on top of the table at a party once while shitfaced and sang 'Don't Rain On My Parade.' That does not qualify me as a homosexual."

"It would have had you been in a gay bar," Jasper said dryly.

This was getting out of hand. I sang the damn song once. Once. While drunk on Jagermeister. How my family leaped from that to me wearing ass-less chaps and giving hummers was still beyond me.

"Oh, Eddie, again with the alcohol?" My mother said sadly.

I shook my head wearily. "Alright," I said. "We're not getting anywhere with this example. Anyone else got anything solid that proves without a doubt that I'm gay? 'Cause really, I'd so love to hear it. This is getting good."

Rosalie cleared her throat and shifted on Emmett's lap, turning to face me. Of all the people in the room, she was the last one I wanted to hear from. That woman was one hundred percent bitch-on-wheels. I groaned loudly.

"There is the matter of your wardrobe," she stated plainly.

"What about it?" I asked, pinching my nose between my fingers and sighing.

"You do wear an awful lot of pink for a man."

"Rosalie, you are aware of the fact that Alice buys my entire wardrobe, right?" It was the truth. I couldn't be bothered with things like that, and since Alice wanted to, I let her. It was a win-win scenario.

"Yes, Edward, I am aware of that," she sneered. "I am also aware of the fact that she also buys Emmett's clothes as well. However, when was the last time you saw him in a pink shirt?"

I thought hard about that. Honestly, outside of the Halloween fiasco two years before when Emmett got high and went as the Easter Bunny, scaring the bejesus out of the neighbor kid, I couldn't recall ever seeing him in pink.

"Did it ever occur to you, Rose, that I hate doing laundry and just put on whatever is clean?" There! Take that, beyotch!

"Edward, Emmett wore the same dirty t-shirt three days in a row once before he finally got around to washing his clothes. Never once did he put on a clean pink shirt."

"That's because he's a filthy heathen, Rose!" I yelled. "Did you ever stop to think that I'm so secure in my manhood that I couldn't care less about wearing pastels?"

Emmett, that rat bastard, snickered. "Dude, you said pastels."

I hung my head as the frustration I was feeling reached its peak. I addressed the entire room. "Anyone else have anything to say before I lose my shit completely?"

"Son," my father began as he walked towards me. He knelt down at my feet, staring at me with sad eyes. "It's just that, well, you've never brought a girl home. You're a healthy young man. It's normal for you to be interested in girls and experiment at this age, but you..." he trailed off and took a deep breath. "But you haven't. And that concerns us. Now maybe we're misreading the signs, but you haven't done anything to indicate that you're a red-blooded, heterosexual male."

"Let me make sure I've got this right, then," I addressed my entire family. "Your evidence that I'm gay is as follows..." I held up my hand and began ticking off their points of 'fact.' "First, I have perfect hair. Second, I gravitate towards music composed by gay men. Third, I wear fucking pink. And finally, I don't bring girls home. Am I missing anything?"

My family was silent, and not one of them looked me in the eye.

"Fucking great!" I screamed, jumping out of my chair. "You're all a bunch of geniuses, aren't you? Well, let me tell you something. I. AM. STRAIGHT...and you can all go to hell."

I ran upstairs as fast as I could and locked myself in my room. I couldn't believe what had just transpired in my own home, and how little my family actually knew about me. Okay, so it was partly my fault. I liked being alone, and I was a private person. It's not as if I ever really opened up to any of them. But that was just me. It was how I rolled. It certainly didn't mean I was gay.

In truth, I really was straight. I liked women just as much as the next guy. The porn collection stashed under my mattress was proof positive of that fact. I. Like. Pussy. Not that I've ever had any. So the hell what if I had great hair and had no problem wearing any color of the freaking rainbow? And as for the music, well, fuck it. I liked that shit, and I wasn't about to apologize for it. It was twenty gazillion times better than listening to that sugar pop crap Alice listened to, or worse, the hip-hop noise Emmett called music. Sue me for having good taste.

I sparked up a bowl and took a long pull, holding the smoke in until my lungs began to burn. As I exhaled, I thought about all of the girls at school who'd tried their damnedest to jump my jock over the years. Not one of those cock-gobblers interested me. They were shallow, vapid and, most importantly, slut bags. My dick and balls literally shriveled and tucked up inside me at the thought of the likes of Jessica Stanley and Lauren Mallory. What I was looking for, really looking for, none of them had.

I wanted someone who shared my interests. Someone I could talk to about any and everything. Someone who argued with me and called me a jackass when she thought my opinions were bullshit instead of some weak girl who agreed with me just to keep me happy. I wanted substance, and I planned on holding out until I found it. Period.

I began to feel my buzz and lay back on my bed, thinking over the events of the day. Fuck them, I thought. When I find her, they'll see, and then they can all suck my ass.

* * *

The New Year came and went, and for the most part, I avoided my family like the plague. I knew it was killing my mother, but I couldn't get past how wrong they'd been about me. I was hurt, and I wasn't prepared to deal with them yet.

On the first day back at school, everyone was buzzing about the new girl. During English, I overheard Newton talking about her perfect ass. In Calculus, Yorkie was going on and on about her luscious lips. In World History, Crowley mentioned her tits. The poor girl, I thought. She has no idea she's the shiny new toy.

When I walked into the cafeteria at lunch time, I grabbed my food and bypassed my family and friends who were already sitting at our usual table. I didn't want to deal with them, so I sat alone at a quiet table in the corner. As I was working on my French assignment, I heard someone clear her throat behind me.

"Excuse me, but is anyone sitting here?" a melodic, unfamiliar voice asked.

I turned around and all the air in my lungs flew out of me. The source of the voice was stunning. Long, mahogany hair. Big, brown eyes. Perfect tits. Amazing, I thought.

"Uh, no. Please, sit," I managed to stammer out.

"Thanks," she said. "The thought of sitting with any of those trolls over there makes me want to hurl chunks." She pointed to the table where Jessica and Lauren sat.

I snorted loudly. "Wise decision."

I watched with rapt attention as she pulled her iPod and a book out of her bag and set them on the table. I swear to God, my dick twitched when I saw the book she was reading. Judging by her taste in literature, this girl was smart, and a bit twisted. I was pretty sure I fell in love instantly.

"Betting on the Muse?" I asked. "You like Bukowski?" I raised my eyebrows and gave her my best lopsided grin.

She shrugged, playing with her iPod. "I'm anti-social by nature and a little fucked in the head. Naturally, his work intrigues me."

"What's your name?" Well, at least your first, so I can see how it sounds with "Cullen" after it.

"Isabella Swan. But everyone calls me Bella," she replied. Bella Cullen. Sweet.

I extended my arm across the table and offered her my hand. "Edward Cullen. Nice to meet you."

She smiled as she took it, and I swear to Jesus and all the saints, she had the softest, warmest skin I'd ever felt in my life. Mmm, more please.

"So, what are you listening to?" I asked as she plugged her ear buds into her iPod.

"You'll laugh," she said shyly.

"I promise, I won't."


Fuck me.

"That's so fucking hot," I exclaimed before thinking about the words spilling from my lips.

She laughed loudly, spitting out a bit of her lemonade. "You're the first person ever to think so. Most people think I'm nuts because I'd rather listen to this than Kings of Leon."

"Well, it's not normal listening material for a teenager, I'd agree. But it sure beats the hell out of the shit these idiots call music," I stated.

"Can I ask you something, Edward?" she asked, pushing her book and iPod aside.


"Why are you sitting here all by yourself?" She looked me square in the eye, and I lost all coherent thought for a moment.

"Truth?" I asked, and she nodded.

Do you see that table over there?" I pointed towards my usual table.


"The girl midget with the brown hair is my sister, and the giant oaf is my brother. The hick and the stripper look-alike are their significant others. We had a little falling out over the holidays, and I just don't want to be around them right now."

"What about?" she prodded.

So I told her the whole sordid tale. When I finished, she stared at me for a moment before speaking.

"Hey, at least your family is supportive," she began with a straight face. "When I told my mom I was a lesbian, she kicked me out of the house. That's why I moved here to Forks. My dad took me in."

"You have got to be shitting me!" I shrieked, banging my forehead against the table. Seriously, could my life have gotten any worse? My family thinks I'm gay and the girl of my dreams comes from the Isle of Lesbos? It seems "fuck my life" is a running theme for me at this particular point in time.

She laughed loudly as she reached across the table and placed her hand on my head, stopping me from pummeling the table with it again. "Easy there, Cullen. I was just kidding. Trying to lighten the mood, ya know?"

"Oh, Christ," I mumbled. "You nearly gave me a heart attack."

"Why?" she giggled.

"Because you're the first girl I've ever been attracted to in this place," I admitted.

A wide grin spread across her face, and I relaxed instantly. "You're not so bad yourself," she nearly whispered.

I was pretty certain my grin matched her own. "Yeah?" I asked.

"Yeah," she replied. "So, Edward, this place bores the shit out of me. What do you say we fuck with your friends and family a bit? Have a little fun?"

"What did you have in mind?"

"Grab your shit and come with me," she ordered. "Follow my lead."

We tossed our untouched food in the trash, and I trailed behind her until she stopped within earshot of Alice, Jasper, Rosalie and Emmett. In an instant, she turned and wrapped her arms around my neck and firmly planted her sweet lips against mine. I could hear the gasps from the table. "So, Cullen," she asked against my lips. "Come over after school. My dad will be at work tonight."

I ran my hands up her back and tangled them in her hair. I ran my nose up her jaw and licked behind her ear. "I'll meet you in the parking lot after school. Don't be late."

Suddenly, she palmed my crotch, eliciting a moan from me, and a low whistle from Emmett. "I'll be there," she said. "Now walk me to class."

With one last long, deep kiss, she grabbed my hand and began to lead me out of the cafeteria. I stopped abruptly, turning towards my usual table and flipped them the bird. "Fruitcake, my ass," I snickered, and then walked through the door with my new girl.

Fruitcake, my ass, indeed.