Hey there, lovelies. This story was originally written as a One Shot for the Seductively Sexy contest. Now it's 14 Chapter and counting!
Be prepared for an OOC Bella, a very OOC Edward, and a slightly OOC everyone else.
For those of you just joining us, the lovely and talented Raindropsoup has graciously agreed to beta for me. We are in the process of going through each chapter and editing out all of my boo boos to make this story better than it was.
Rated M for lemons. Also includes references to under-aged drug use.
I don't own Twilight, I just like to play with SM's characters. =)
It's time for my shift at the hospital. And in case you're wondering, I'm not one of those important people like a doctor, nurse, or a janitor. No, I'm a candy striper. Yup, the cheerer-upper in red and white from the olden days. Unfortunately, I live in bum-fuck Forks, Washington—where the term "olden days" pretty much sums things up.
I squeak past the sliding glass doors in my regulation white patent leather shoes and make my way to the nurse's station to see which wing I'm assigned to. Shit. Queen-bitch nurse-in-charge looks up from her Ladies Home Journal to scrutinize me. I plant my best fake smile firmly on my face, hoping she doesn't notice that I skipped on the pantyhose today. I'm sorry, but how am I expected to be cheery when I've got itchy nylon riding up my ass crack? Besides, my legs are pale enough to pass for off-white hose.
"Hello, Bella." She glances quickly at the clock on the wall behind me. "Humph, on time for once. Surprise, surprise. You've got the children's wing tonight. Rooms twenty-six through seventy-nine. And try not to make anyone cry today."
Great, the chemo kids. How do you sugar-coat cancer? I don't know how the doctors and nurses do it day in and day out. I only have two more months of volunteering left. Well actually, volunteering probably isn't the right word. It's more like court-mandated community service. No, I wish I could say I'm doing this for brownie points for college applications. Unfortunately, that isn't the case.
I got into a little trouble down at the Res. When I say a little, I really mean a fuck-storm. The guys just happened to stumble upon Quill senior's stash of peyote. Yeah, in retrospect it was a bad idea. Of course, at the time we thought we were fucking brilliant. Peyote is supposed to be a drug that allows inner spiritual reflection. The pack all thought it would help them connect with their spirit wolves. I was just along for the ride. And it was one hell of a ride.
It didn't take long for the campfire to come alive. The first animal that came through the fire was a wolf—no surprise here. The whole pack's eyes reflected the flames from the wolf's form. It was entrancing to see the way their eyes danced and followed the wolf's every move. Soon the flames transformed into a phoenix. My phoenix. She flapped her wings sending hot cinders all over me. My skin began to burn. I tore off my clothes and rolled in the sand to put the fire out, you know, like you do when you're on fire. Lulu, my phoenix, told me to fly with her, and apparently I did – all over town. There's video evidence of me from Newton's Outfitter's surveillance cameras running around, frantically flapping my arms while buck-ass naked. And that's how I got slapped with public indecency. My pixelated nakedness even made the evening news. Yeah, I'm real popular. At least I have some anonymity in the kid's wing, with the younger kids anyway.
So now, I'm making my way down the children's wing, wishing I could be anywhere else but here, when the only perk of the job makes his appearance— Doctor McDreamy. What? So I watch Grey's. It's like job training, only if this was a hospital staffed by exceptionally hot doctors with raging hormones and low moral standards. A girl can dream, can't she? In all reality, McDreamy really isn't my type. He's a little too old, too nice, and too married. But how anyone could think he passes for human is beyond me. Yeah, he's a vampire. Gasp. Not a big shock when you've grown up with the legends of the "cold ones". Charlie never bought into it— he's too logical. But even as a child I could see the truth in the elders' eyes as they recounted their stories— the history of the tribe.
"Hi, Bella." McDreamy looks up from his patient's chart with a warm smile.
"Hi, Dr. Cullen. How are things going tonight?" I'm hoping by some miracle he'll tell me all the kids are sound asleep.
"Two discharges," he says, gesturing to the chart. "And one new admit."
"Discharges, that sounds good." His smile falters for a moment. He seems to struggle for a response. I have a pretty good idea what this means. Most of the kids on this wing aren't too bad off. Frankly, the hospital doesn't have the state-of-the-art equipment needed to treat the aggressive cancers. So, if kids are being discharged, it either means that they are well enough to go home, or sick enough to be transferred somewhere else. Dr. Cullen always miraculously manages to find some obscure grant that funds treatment for the severe cases.
"Any rooms I should avoid?"
"Jenna in thirty-four is fast asleep. Michael in fifty-two isn't reacting well to the chemotherapy, and Alex in sixty-three is spiking a fever. That only leaves you twelve." I breathe a sigh of relief. Twelve I can handle. A few stories, some balloon animals— I'm really good at snakes— and I'll be done. Don't get me wrong, I like kids. In fact, that's the reason I don't like visiting this wing. Kids are supposed to be outside playing and getting into trouble. They're too young to deal with life and death. I didn't have cancer, but I really didn't have much of a childhood either. After Mom and Charlie divorced, Renee started living her second childhood. I guess her second adolescence would be more appropriate. At the young age of eight, I played the role of the girlfriend, helping her to get over her most recent break-up with the never-ending line of bastards she always ended up dating. I was relieved when she finally found Phil, and more relieved when I packed my bags to move here. Sure, I missed Phoenix, but Charlie isn't in need of parenting. All he needs is a cook – and I'm more than happy to oblige.
"Well, I'll see you later, Bella." Dr. Cullen's crotch slowly came into view as I break out of my daze. Holy hell, how long have I been staring at his junk? My gaze snaps up to his face to see his uncomfortable expression.
"Um, b-bye." I stammer, turning quickly before he can see my face turn into a tomato. I walk straight into the room directly in front of me, not bothering to look at the room number. I look at the boy sitting up in bed staring at me. He doesn't look so good. Then again, that's kind of the status quo around here.
I need to switch gears. Time to do my job. There are kids who need cheering up, and I'm not dressed up like a human candy cane for nothing. Putting on my best enthusiastic smile, I approach the bed while digging in my pockets for a balloon.
"What's your favorite color?"
"Black," The boy responds, apathetic. Well, he sure isn't going to make this easy.
"Alright, what's your second favorite color?" The corners of my mouth twitch trying to maintain my grin.
"Okay. Well, I don't have black or brown, so how about blue?"
"Blue it is. Do you want a snake?" The enthusiasm in my voice is now bordering on demented.
"I don't like snakes."
"Of course you don't." I'll have to get inventive. "How about a worm?"
There was no immediate response this time, so I take that as a yes and start blowing up his balloon. Once the phallic object reaches a good two feet, I tie it off and whip out my sharpie. Now there's something I just love about the sound a sharpie makes as you write on a balloon. Seriously, there's nothing else like it.
Satisfied that little Timmy's still quiet, I get into my work. " … two little eyes … a worm's gotta have segments right ..." Wormy looks awesome! I cap my sharpie and give Wormy to the boy. Crap, he just went from not looking so hot to literally turning a sullen shade of green. He bucks upright in bed, his cheeks suddenly balloon and …. Oh shit! He proceeds to projectile vomit all over me. And when I say projectile, I mean I feel it splatter on my face and hair with such velocity that I feel like I'm standing in a wind tunnel—a wind tunnel that spits broccoli cheese soup and stomach acid.
"You must be Michael." I wipe as much vomit from my face as possible and press Michael's call button. Michael is laughing now, his arms clutching his stomach. I hear a muffled "my tummy hurts" between his laughs. This is information I could have used, oh, about two minutes ago.
"Can I help you?" The nurse's voice sounds on the intercom.
"Clean up on isle fifty-two. Mike's lost his lunch."
Well, mission accomplished, I had the kid laughing. But I'm afraid that's all the entertainment I have in store for tonight. I slosh out to the nurses' station and see one of the Betty's hand fly up to her mouth to cover her shock at the sight of me.
"Oh, you poor thing! There's more uniforms in the utility closet." She scuttles around the desk and to the clean linens cart and grabs several towels. "Room sixty is vacant. Go run through the shower real quick, hun." She placed the towels in my arms. God bless her for not laughing.
I make my way to room sixty, trying hard not to leave too much destruction in my path. As promised, the room is empty. It looks like the cleaning lady had just been here. The beds are pristine, mitered edges and wrinkle free. Luckily, the shower is the first door on my left, so the damage I cause is pretty much contained.
I open the door, flipping on the light switch. A cutesy fish-themed bathroom stares back at me, and I can care less at this point. I nearly rip the shower curtain off the rod to turn on the water. I slither out of my clothes and wait the millennia it takes for the water to warm up to a suitable temperature.
The one inch by two inch bar of complementary soap isn't enough. After I wash my hair for the third time, I use the rest of the two-in-one as a body wash. I'm taking entirely too much time, but I really don't care. Wearing someone else's stomach contents warrants a long shower in my book. I even use the lotion, which finally drowns out the smell of chemo-vomit. I feel like a person again.
With a towel wrapped around me, I step out to the vanity area to dig for a trash bag for my clothes. Truth be told, I'm not sure if they're even salvageable. I quickly come to a striking realization once I tie the bag closed. I have no clothes— no clean clothes.
In my need to get clean, I completely skipped the trip to the utility closet. I glance at the neatly made beds, hoping that Betty realized my slip up and brought me a uniform. No-such-luck.
Tiptoeing to the door, I open it just wide enough for a view of the nurses' station. Betty isn't there. No one is there. I run back to the bed clutching my towel tight under my arms and jab the call button repeatedly. Surely, someone will see the blinking light outside the room and come to my rescue. Preferably someone nice – and female.
I pace the room, my bare feet smacking loudly across the linoleum floors. Then, I have to pee. I can't help it. I'm like one of those annoying little dogs that pees all over your shoe when they get excited. So I close the bathroom door, and of course, there's no lock. Of course. What a sight, me peeing on the kiddy toilet, which I swear is like two inches off the ground.
Someone's going to walk in here, right at this moment. Finding me, with my knees up to my chest, wearing only a towel while peeing on a miniature toilet. I swear it'll be Newton's Outfitters all over again, except I can't blame it on the peyote this time.
By the grace of God, I'm allowed to pee in privacy. I check again, and the nurse's station is still deserted. I look down both hallways, poking my head out the door. The place seems deserted. Now's my time.
I glance down at my towel, making sure all the naughty bits are covered, and make a mad dash for the utility closet.
I can't believe my luck. I make it! Breathing a sigh of relief, I begin the task of finding a new uniform. Awesome. The first clothing my waiting hands touch is a size small. My luck's turning up. Sure, I'll be going commando for the rest of the evening, and I still have the daunting task of cleaning my shoes, but at least I have clean clothes.
I drop the towel to the floor and am just about to pull the shirt over my head when I hear the barely audible click of the door shutting. Before I can turn around the small room is flooded with a familiar scent – vampire. I crumple to the floor, grasping my towel as quick as I can to shield myself. There's really no point, not with vampire senses.
I'm shocked when I find myself staring back at a set a burgundy eyes instead of the golden I'm expecting. I can't help the choked gasp that escapes me. Embarrassment quickly turns to fear when I see the animalistic way he looks at me. He towers over my crouching form. The overhead lighting reflecting off each devastatingly perfect angle of his chiseled face. They're all like that— perfect. Perfect, but deadly.
Taking a deep breath, I try to pull myself together. Rising from my crouch, I clutch my towel tighter to me and hold my head up, trying to convey some sense of strength.
"I know what you are." My voice wavers more than I like. He cocks his head to the side like a predator studying his prey.
"No, a vampire." I whisper.
"Oh, well, I suppose that changes things." He brings his hand up to rub his chin as he contemplates me. I'm going to die. The reality of that thought sinks into my bones. Someone will find me later, naked in the utility closet.
I refuse to play the part of the sniveling victim begging for her life. "Can we get this over with?"
His left eyebrow arches in surprise. "I guess there's no beatin' around the bush with you." He smiles and takes a step closer, closing the small space between us.
"Just make it quick," I demand once he's standing before me. I try to hold his gaze, but fail miserably.
"Well, Ma'am, I'm afraid that's not how I do things. I prefer to take my time." He tenderly brushes a piece of damp hair away from my face. His cool breath assaults me. His eyes draw me in with their intensity. Suddenly my fear is replaced by something else. His fingers make a scorching white hot path from my temple to the junction of my neck and shoulder. His hands stop there, but the path continues before finally settling between my legs.
He bows his head to my neck, placing cool kisses there. For a moment, I forget that he's a vampire, but now, with his mouth on my flesh – and so close to the blood that runs through my veins— my breath hitches in my throat.
"Will it hurt?" I whisper.
"No. I promise to be gentle," he says against my skin, his cool breath tickling my flesh. His hands are on me now; one arm snaking around my waist and pulling me closer. His fingers tangle into the hair at the base of my neck, tugging gently. And fuck me if I'm not completely turned on by having my hair pulled. Pressed up against him I can feel every muscle of his strong torso. I can't help myself. My hands circle around him, pulling myself even closer, gripping his broad shoulders. He groans and I hear the plop of my towel hitting the floor. I can care less at this point.
He pulls the hair at the nape of my neck, forcing my gaze to meet his. My eyes look into his black ones, only a thin circle of red is visible in his current state of hunger. Suddenly, his mouth is on mine, coaxing my lips to part. The taste of him is exquisite—the warmth of a crackling fireplace with cinnamon and cloves. His tongue swirls in my mouth, his cool sweet breath making me dizzy. Without thinking, I submit to this stranger— a dangerous stranger. Only I could be turned on moments before my own death. Well, at least I'll be going out with a bang. I return his kiss with abandon, matching his own intensity. His large hands gingerly cup my face now, as if he suddenly realizes how fragile I am. He gently grazes his tongue along my top lip.
"You taste amazin'," he purrs with a shiver. My hands drift up to his wrists, holding them in place, unwilling to let him push me away. I peer up at him now under my lashes, trying my best 'sexy face' as I hitch one leg around his waist. A throaty growl resonates in his chest, and in one swift motion, he grabs my ass, grinding himself against me.
Oh dear Lord, he's huge. I can't hide the look of shock that crosses my face.
"I promised I would be gentle with ya, darlin. And I'm a man of my word." He catches my bottom lip, pulling it between his before sucking and kissing his way down my neck. His teeth occasionally graze my flesh, causing me to gasp. It's not from fear now—no, that's been replaced by need. He worships each inch of my flesh while grinding his hips into me. Every kiss and tease seems like heaven and hell wrapped in one.
He captures my nipple with his mouth, and I nearly come right then and there. A moan escapes me, and suddenly, he's gone. I open my eyes in shock, almost dropping to the floor. There before me is a God. My eyes take in every inch of him greedily. I lick my lips in anticipation. In that split second, he has completely disrobed. Under the florescent light, I can see silvery marks all over his flesh, little crescent shapes repeat over and over on the skin of his arms and chest. He is breathtakingly beautiful.
He stalks toward me stopping a foot away, a devilish smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. In my half crouch, I can't help but stare at his massive cock as it stands at attention. It's just as beautiful as the rest of him; pale white and hard as a rock, I think with a smile. It twitches then, and my eyes flicker to his to see his eyebrows twitch too. If that isn't a come-hither look, then I don't know what is. And like the good little girl that I am, I obey.
Rising from my crouch I take a step toward him. Now, it's his turn to fall into a crouch at my feet. He runs one hand down my body, sending quivers of anticipation throughout. His hand continues over my belly and down my inner thigh, touching everywhere except where I want to be touched the most.
"I have to make sure yer ready for me."
"I'm ready." I reply, my voice shaking with want. His finger dips inside me then and I feel my knees buckle. I brace myself against the metal shelving.
"Not quite, but close." He breathes huskily. His eyes lock with mine as he bent towards me, flicking his tongue over my sensitive nub while his fingers continue to dip inside me.
"Oh, dear God." I moan. He increases his pace, flicking and sucking with his tongue before adding another finger, and then another. I can feel the warmth spreading through my body.
He straightens up from his crouch, his fingers continuing their work. He withdraws them abruptly, roughly grabs my hips, and pushes his cock into me to the hilt. I cry out with an exquisite mixture of pleasure and pain, tightening my grip on the shelves while wrapping my legs around his waist. He grinds into me without restraint, pumping himself in and out at an unnatural speed.
Letting go of the shelves, I wrap my arms around his back and dig my nails into his shoulders, knowing full and well I'll leave no marks. I have to bury my head into the crook of his neck to avoid the screams that protest in my chest. I can feel my body pulsating, each and every muscle clenching with my approaching release. My mouth seeks his, urgent. I need him, all of him. He growls into my mouth, bucking his hips wildly as we both reach our climax together.
Reluctantly, I unwind myself from him. I feel like I'm coming down from the clouds as my feet touch the cold floor. It's back to reality now. I'm naked, drenched in my own sweat and standing in front of the most beautiful creature I have ever seen.
He pulls his clothes from a nearby shelf, all neatly folded into a pile, and begins to put his clothes back on. I frown, jutting my bottom lip out in a pout.
"Aw, don't look at me like that. We both have to get back to work." He chides while buckling his belt, and an impossible smirk graces his face.
"I need another shower." I muter to myself, reluctantly getting a new uniform from the shelf behind me.
"I'd like to join you fer that. When'd you get off?"
When you're inside me. "At nine."
"Me too." He smiles. "The name's Peter by the way."
Oh shit, I just realize I screwed a guy without even knowing his name, in the supply closet … in the children's wing of the hospital.
"I'm Bella." I mumble timidly while fidgeting with the strap of my smock. In a split second, he's right in front of me, a cool finger under my chin lifting my face to his. He plants the chastest of kisses lightly on my lips.
"So how does a vampire end up as a Janitor?" Leave it to me to completely ruin a tender moment.
He chuckles. "Carlisle suggested I take the position. My brother, Jasper, is his adopted son. Jasper, well he's helpin' me through a tough time right now. I knew I'd need somethin' to keep me busy, and I also needed to prove my self-control to the good doctor." He bends his head to mine, whispering in my ear. "He thinks I can't control my … urges." He pulls away, laughing. "He's right on one count at least. You were jus' too temptin'. I guess I'm a sucker for a girl in uniform."
I can't help but point out the obvious. "Um, I was naked when you first saw me."
"Details." He gives me one last devastating smile before walking out the door … leaving me completely speechless.