Hi! So this is just a goofy little outtake I wrote to say thanks for reading and reviewing and always being so sweet. I can't believe we hit 6K reviews and that's only because you guys are the best, best, best. thank you, imy, ily, americnxidiot.
"Oh, the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful, and since we've no place to go—"
"Christmas not for another month! Stop singing that song!" Edward yells from the living room.
I walk out of the bedroom where I was folding the load of laundry I'd just done since Edward has a washer-dryer in his apartment. And because I'm here most of the time anyway.
"That is not a Christmas song," I tell him, hands on my hips. "That is a snow song and we are in the middle of a snow storm and work is cancelled tomorrow, therefore: let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!"
"Hey," he calls. "Should we join the carolers in my building? There was a flyer up in the lobby."
I snort. "You? You want to go caroling from door-to-door?"
I have to keep myself from laughing. "Oh, you'd be great."
"You think?" he says, smiling a little goofily. I don't think anyone has ever told him he'd be a good singer before.
There's a good reason.
"Oh yeah. You'd give all the fingernail and chalkboard duos a run for their money. Don't make that face at me. You know you're a bad singer. You have all the pitch of a fork against scraping on a Teflon plan."
"Well, I sing about as well as you dance," he shoots back.
"Then we'd make quite the double act."
He nods, grinning. "We could go on tour. People could take their friends to our show as a bad joke. 'Welcome to the world's worst hour of entertainment.'"
"It could work. I mean, that was probably the same pitch they gave for Jersey Shore."
"I don't know if you hold the appeal of Snooki, though," he says, holding his hands out in front of his chest, miming gigantic breasts.
I stick my tongue out at him and walk back into the bedroom, but not even ten seconds later, Edward barrels into me from behind. I yelp as he slips his arms around my waist and tackles me onto the bed. He grins at me widely as he raises his body so I can turn over to face him and brushes his nose against mine.
"Was there something you wanted, Edward?" I ask sarcastically.
He schools his expression into one of casual apathy and shrugs. "Nah."
We lie like that, him on top of me, in silence for a few minutes. We still do things like this, play silly little games as if we're kindergartners on a playground instead of grown-ups in a committed relationship. But I think that's what we'll always be like. It's what I hope we will always be like.
"Alright, I give in," he says.
"Ha!" I practically shout in his face. "Such a quitter."
"Well, my arm is just about completely asleep, and I kind of need it to do what I want to do," he says.
"And pray, do tell what it is you want to do," I reply, as he rolls us over so I'm lying on top of him now.
He smirks, shaking his arm out to the side to regain the blood flow before resting his palm on the small of my back. "I want to have sex in and on your freshly cleaned laundry."
I shiver, a little from his words because they're silly and still somehow sexy, but mostly because he keeps running four fingers lightly up and down the bottom of my back, dipping under the waistband of my pants every few passes.
"Don't tell me clean laundry turns you on," I tell him.
"You folding laundry turns me on."
"Oh yeah." He nods for emphasis.
He exhales. "How can I explain it? It's like… imagine you're dating a guy and—"
"Where are you in this scenario?" I ask.
"Huh?" he says, that little cute eyebrow frown forming because he's confused. "I'm right here."
"Well, then why do I have to imagine I'm dating a guy? I am dating a guy; the one who is lying under me right now."
He rolls his eyes. "Never mind."
"No please, continue. Explain why fabric softener seems to have the opposite effect on you," I joke, wiggling my hips into his.
He lets out a groaning laugh, or maybe it's a laughing groan. Either way, the two noises are inextricably part of each other and I can't help but think that it fits us perfectly. Neither of us are perfect, but we're sort of perfect together. I slip my hand down from where it was playing with the short hair at the top of his neck and tweak his chin with my thumb and forefinger.
He raises an eyebrow. "You getting sentimental on me, Swan?"
I smile, because he knows me so, so well. "A little."
He grins. "Want to tell me about it?"
"Can I just show you?"
His smile only grows as he rolls us over and pushes us up a little higher on the bed, knocking over a pile of folded pants. He sits up on his knees, which are between my legs, and reaches down to start unbuttoning my shirt.
"I'm a little worried about this developing laundry fetish," I tell him, just lying there and letting him do all the work of undressing me.
He grins. "What do you mean developing?"
"Um… remember the time you pretty much attacked me in your laundry room-closet-thing, and we did it on top of the washing machine? While it was on?"
He stops taking off my clothes—damn it—and gives me a skeptical look. "You are either a damn liar or very stupid if you don't realize how much of that was for your benefit."
"Yes, now that I think about it, I did benefit quite well." In fact, I benefitted quite well twice.
He grins and pulls my sweatpants and his jeans off, scattering my piles of laundry all over the bed and floor. He moves over me, giving me a long kiss, his tongue loving my mouth in the hottest way, before he moves away to reach over to his bedside table. He pulls open the drawer and searches for a few moments before swearing.
"Bella, I fucking ran out of condoms," he tells me.
I blush deeply. "I think I should have an, um, emergency one in my purse," I tell him. He reaches off the bed and picks it up from the ground, sitting back on his heels so I can sit up and root through it.
I'm really, really hoping he won't think too much about why I carry an emergency condom around, but he's Edward and he doesn't really miss much. Especially not when it comes to me.
"So… an emergency condom, huh?" he asks, smirk on and eyebrow raised. I nod. "How long have you had it for?" I shrug. "Have you had to replenish it often?" I shake my head. "Are you ever going to speak again?"
"Not while this topic is still being discussed," I reply, opening and re-opening the various compartments in my purse.
"Except you just did," he points out. Damn it! "So… seriously. You carry an emergency condom…"
"Just in case I fall into bed with my best friend on Valentine's Day," I tell him glibly.
He grins and then frowns. "But we didn't use a condom that night."
"I know. I was better about remembering to take my birth control then, so we didn't need it… it's not like that's even something I did. Alice put it in there like, months ago as a joke. And I guess I sort of still keep it in there in case, um, you and I ever need it. Um, suddenly. Since I can be really bad about my birth control sometimes." I sneak a look at him and he's grinning.
"You should know I will not be giving you any more shit about this. Ever again," he says, sincerely.
"No way. If you want to carry a condom in case you feel the need to have sex with me someplace public, I'm not going to oppose that. In fact, I'll make sure the emergency condom gets put to good use, and I'll make sure to replenish the supply," he declares proudly.
I shoot him a wry smile. "How gracious of you." I root around once more. "Shit, where is—oh no. Oh no no no no."
"I won't go into details because it involves the bathroom at Pike's Bar and Alice and Jasper, but I'm pretty sure my emergency condom was used. By someone other than you."
"Damn it," he says. "Can we… uh," he waffles, scratching his nose and tugging on his ear. Edward, Edward Cullen, my Edward is nervous about asking me something. It's unbelievably endearing. "Can we do it without one?"
Shit. Because now that he's said it, I really, really want to. It wouldn't be the first time we've done it without a condom, but it has been awhile since we have, mainly because: "Um," I begin sheepishly. "I've sort of still not gone to pick up my birth control refill."
He gives me a look as if he thinks I'm a moron for forgetting. He's totally right, I am a moron, but still, I say, "Hey, don't give me that look, okay? You were out of town, so I just kept putting it off, and then the storm hit and I totally forgot about it."
"Is picking up your prescription really that hard?" he asks wryly.
I make a face at him. "The pharmacist gives me judging eyes every time I go! And her name is Judy. She's like my own real life Judge Judy."
He rolls off of me onto his side and just stares at me for a few seconds. I know he's being serious because he's staring at my face, not my boobs.
"Are you quite sure you're not insane?" he asks.
I shake my head. "I'm not sure of that at all. Are you okay with dating someone insane?"
"As long as it's not criminally insane, and you know, is you, then yeah."
"It's not even psychologically. I'm more… dispositionally insane."
"That's not a thing."
"It totally is a thing."
"No, it's not."
"How can it not be a thing when I am that thing?" I argue.
"'Dispositionally' is not even a word, that's how it's not a thing."
I make the face I always make when he's right, but for once, Edward doesn't grin smugly back at me.
"Could we go out and get some condoms?" I suggest, trying to placate him. He seems genuinely upset. "I mean, it's not very in the moment but—"
"We're in the middle of a snowstorm, remember?" He flops onto his back. "I doubt there'd be any pharmacies open even if we did go out."
We're silent a few moments and then he says, "Well, this is just great. We finally have some time to ourselves, no distractions, no business trips, no annoying friends who never leave us alone… and no condoms. Great."
"Sorry," I mutter, and his eyes immediately soften. He slips his arm around me, bringing me close to him.
With his lips against my forehead, he says, "Sorry. I didn't mean to sound like such a jerk."
"I know," I say quietly, still feeling kind of bad until an idea enters my head. "But hey, we could…"
He angles his head down to look at me. "We could…?"
"We could do, um, everything but?"
"Everything but?" he repeats, eyebrows high on his forehead.
I shrug, moving so I'm lying on top of him. "Yeah… you know. Like in high school. 'Don't be a slut, just do everything but'?"
Edward bursts out laughing. "Is that what girls said?" he asks, incredulous.
I shrug. "I mean, it's not very nice…"
"It's not nice at all. Man, I never thought about how much high school must suck for a girl."
"Yeah, well, that's another conversation," I say, wiggling a little on top of him the way I know he likes to get his attention back to the matter at hand. Or rather, the matter I'd like to be in my hand. "So… everything but…"
Suddenly, his smile turns devilish, and it feels like the room gets hotter just from the force of it. "Everything but, huh?" He slides his hands up and down my back.
"I'm sure we can figure out plenty to do."
"Everything but," he repeats, pronouncing it a little strangely.
"Yeah. Everything but," I repeat.
"Butt…" he says.
I frown. Do I have to explain this concept to him? "But… sex."
"Butt sex," he repeats. He's smirking a little bit and now I'm really confused. What is going on in that head of his?
"Yes," I reply. "That's what I said. Everything but sex."
"That's not what I'm talking about," he tells me pointedly.
"What are you talking about then?" I ask him.
"Butt sex." He keeps sliding his hands up and down my back, going lower and lower each time, and it's distracting in the best way.
"Yes, exactly, everything…" And suddenly, as his hands firmly palm my ass, I get what he is saying. "Oh. Butt sex."
His eyes are watching me closely, and I know that while he wouldn't be opposed to doing it—at all— he's said it more to get a reaction out of me.
And I'm not going to let him down.
"Oh my god!" I shout, leaping out of bed.
"Whoa whoa whoa. That's what you've been thinking about?"
"Well… a little," he admits.
"For how long?"
"For how long?" How long has he been thinking about this? Has he been wishing we could do it, only to be faced with boring, old normal sex? Not that sex between us has ever been boring. Suddenly, a horrible thought enters my head: what if it's only not been boring for me? What if he's totally sick of regular sex? "For this whole conversation? For the whole time we've been dating?" My voice is doing that thing, where it's at the same pitch as a tea kettle that's come to boil.
"Bella, it's not like that."
"How long, Edward?"
He shrugs. "I don't know. I've kind of wondered about it since Garrett did it in college and told me it was the best sex he's ever had." Quickly, he adds, "Don't tell Kate he said that. He said Kate is better overall but as an isolated incident that was the best."
I roll my eyes. "Guys are assholes. Even you and Garrett."
"Well, I don't know about guys being assholes but they sure—"
"Have you done it before?" I interrupt.
"No, never," he says. "I didn't—Look, Bella, I really didn't meant to freak you out—"
"I'm not freaking out!" I nearly shout, proving that I am totally and completely freaking out. Then, way more timidly than I normally speak, I continue, "I just didn't know that was something you wanted…"
He snorts. "Bella, I think it's something pretty much every guy wants."
I sit down on the bed. "Oh." He sits up and then reaches over, sliding his arm around my waist and pulling me to him.
"Relax," he tells me. "We don't have to do it."
"Damn straight we don't have to do it!" I say, mildly outraged, and he laughs.
"Well, good to see you're back to being you, baby."
I give an indignant sniffle and then slump into his arms. "I just… I mean, is this a problem... that it's non-negotiable with me?"
"You know, yeah, it is," he replies, nodding slowly. "You and I have been dating for like… eight months. And I know I pursued you like a madman. And yeah, you're my best friend too, and I'm stupid in love with you and we have amazing sex. But I'm definitely going to break up with you over something I've ever even done before."
"Well when you put it like that…" I say, crossing my arms.
"It's really not a huge thing," he says. As I open my mouth to argue, he continues, "And don't blow it up in your head. I know you, you're freaking out because now you think that I want to do it and that you're depriving me, or something, by not."
I squint at him. "I hate how well you know me."
"Well, you're crazy but in predicable patterns."
"Watch it," I tell him, holding up a finger. "You better check yourself before you wreck yourself."
He laughs. "The fact that you said that might actually be a deal-breaker."
I'm quiet for a few minutes, as I mull this over. I mean, I know why guys would want to do it. But it's just so... gross. I mean, why would you ever want to associate pleasure with the part of your body that is sometimes called—by only the most mature of people, of course—a poop chute?
"Anal sex is icky!" I burst out, and Edward cracks up. "I just… I don't get it," I cry and Edward is rolling on the bed with laughter now.
"Well," he says, when he manages to catch his breath. "What don't you get? I mean, do I really need to explain what sex is like for a guy to you?"
"Because I totally will. I teach best by demonstration," he says, moving on top of me. He kisses my neck as I shriek with laughter and says, "Mmmm. Fabric softener, mmmm." He hums this into my neck, which tickles, and I giggle.
"I knew it. Fabric softener turns you on. You're such a sexual deviant."
"How about—" he kisses me. "We get Downy to business—" another kiss "—and you Bounce on me—" another kiss "—so we can Snuggle after."
I push on his shoulders so I can look at his face. "Did you really just say that?"
He waggles his eyebrows. "I am unbelievably brilliant and sexy, aren't I?"
"Well, you have the unbelievable part down. And we can't have sex, you idiot. That's what got us into this whole discussion." I make a face from under him, but then pull him down to me so we can kiss again. I slide my hands down his back, pulling his hips into mine, and he reciprocates by pushing. He breaks away to tug my shirt up, and once it's off, he kisses me so sweetly that it tugs straight on my heart.
"So," he says. "Everything but?"
The way he says it, his voice all low and gritty turns me on unbelievably. Everything about him does, really, but with that hungry, heated look in his eye, his hard weight over me, it's something more entirely.
I guess I'm lost in my thoughts because he repeats, "Everything but?"
I flip us over so I'm on top again, more clean laundry flying everywhere as I begin unbuttoning his shirt, kissing every inch of new skin as it is revealed to me. When his shirt is off, I move back up his body and say, "Yes. Everything but."
He moves to kiss me again, but I hold him back by the shoulders for a moment. I look him in the eye and say, very seriously:
"And for future clarification: everything but butt."
I am laughing so hard as you go back to kissing my chest, but it's a different kind of noise I let out when you gently tug my nipple between your teeth.
Sex with you has been so many different, always amazing, things; tonight it's more of a game than ever, since it's off the table. It's me moving against you, your legs bent at the knees around my hips, testing how far we can go if I stay right here and move right there. It's sprinting right to the edge, where gravity and time and reason seem to have no meaning and all that matters is the feeling of you on me… and then having to stop. It's about the buttons of your body that I know how to push just right and the spaces in you that I fill with my hands and my fingers and my mouth and my tongue. It's mix-and-match, it's give-and-take, it's how many ways we can find to make up for what we can't do.
We find a lot of ways.
There's this fantastic moment where you sit up, leaning on your elbows and looking down to watch what I am doing to you. Just as you come, I look up. Your eyes are closed and your lips are parted, and I wish my brain was a camera because I want to capture you just like this; but then again, I don't need to capture you.
You're already mine.
We lie catching our breaths after and I look over at you. You've got this silly, sleepy smile on your face, and you're back to humming "Let It Snow" quietly.
"What's going on in that head of yours?" I ask you. You smile gently, and I love that whether you say it or not, I can see right on your face how much you love me. You've always been gorgeous, but that right there, that makes you the most beautiful girl in the world.
"I have this idea…" you say slowly.
"Yeah? What is it?"
"What if, instead of refolding all these clothes and then taking them back to my apartment and folding them again, I could just um, hang them up. In the closet." You're still lying on your back but you keep glancing at me from the side of your eyes to gauge my reaction.
"In my closet?" I ask, working extra hard to not grin.I don't know if you'll ever learn to function in relationship like a normal person; but I don't even know if I want you to. I like you like this, with your love all sweet and crazy mixed up together.
"Um. Yeah." You fidget and now I really want to laugh. How can you be nervous? How can you even think I would ever say no?
That just makes me want to tease you more.
"I don't know, though," I say, sighing. "I really like my closet the way it is. I was thinking of color coordinating it. "
You narrow your eyes. "You're such an ass. Move your crap over, I'm putting my stuff in your closet. Deal with it."
I crack up and say, "Alright, ma'am". I mock salute you—I'd be stupid to pretend not to know who wears the pants in the relationship. And who decides in which closet they'll hang, for that matter. "Though I'm pretty sure it's because you just want to avoid having to fold all that laundry again."
You shrug. "Not really."
"I don't know if I believe you," I tease. "You forget I know just how lazy you are. I've seen you eat a piece of bread, then a slice of cheese, then a slice of turkey, just to avoid having to make the actual sandwich."
"That was one time!" you cry.
"If we hadn't made so much fun of you, you'd probably still do it."
"I'm not that lazy." I snort. "I'm not!" You narrow your eyes at me. "I'll prove to you I'm not. You'll see."
And a few weeks later, after I return from another business trip, I do see.
When we first started dating, I joked that if we ever decided to move in together, you had to at least tell me before I came home one day to find all your stuff in my place.
You didn't tell me.
I don't mind. Like I said: sweet and crazy all mixed up, so you can't tell where one starts and the other stops. I wouldn't want anything else.
Life is crazy hectic right now, but I'm gonna try to write another outtake for the FGB compilation, one that actually has some plot haha. I know this outtake was kind of silly but I hope you enjoyed it anyway. Tell me if you didn't or if you did or just say hi. I missed writing these characters and I really missed you guys.