Thank you to Krystle and Alby for being a most excellent beta and pre-reading team. Thank you for sticking with me, even though I flounce my own work.

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, and I don't own Knocked Up. I just took the two stories and smooshed them together.

Warning: This chapter contains references to drug use. If that's not your thing, then it's cool, just close your eyes during the bad bits.

Northern Lights & Glittering Vamps.


"Jesus, Bella. Are you capable of wearing anything other than jeans?"

I held my arm across the door frame, blocking the entrance to my apartment as I scowled at the gorgeous blond bombshell standing in the hallway.

"Are you capable of being anything but a nasty bitch?" I replied, eying the ensemble that my best friend had put together for what was supposed to be a low-key night out.

Skin tight designer jeans? Check.

Expensive leather boots? Check

Well fitted shirt with the top buttons undone, showing a hideous amount of man-scaped chest hair? Check and check.

"Touche," replied Riley with a smirk and a raise of his extremely well sculpted eyebrow.

Stupid attractive ass.

"Okay, ladies. Back to your corners," Jess slurred as she ducked under my arm sneakily. It was obvious from the eye-watering stench that wafted in behind her that she was already blazed. The pungent aroma of weed stuck to her clothes, infecting the air around her like her very own signature scent.

Eau De PotHead.I'm sure Britney Spears had something similar.

I coughed dramatically, waving my hand in front of my nose. "Ugh. Smoke much, Jess?"

She just smiled lazily and shrugged her shoulders. "Chill, Bumblebee. Jimmy got this fucking awesome Northern Lights shit." She smacked her lips together loudly before flopping down onto my shitty sofa. "It's off the fuckin' chi-zain!"

When I'd first met Jess, she was the enthusiastic cheerleader-type; full of pep and spirit and all that bullshit. She was the type of girl I would have blown spit-balls at when I was in high school. She and I had worked at the same Kinko's for about a year, until we got caught photocopying our asses and both got fired. It was that night, at a party in our apartment building, that someone gave her a joint. You know, to chill out or whatever? What resulted from that fateful night was now sitting on my couch, bleary-eyed and smelling like she just came from a Burning Man festival.

What's more, she had her feet on my goddamn coffee table!

"Just don't make my sofa smell, okay?" I asked, kicking her feet off. I might have found it by the side of the road, but it was my coffee table, damn it. I didn't want her stank-ass feet all over the table that I ate my dinner on. Gross!

Jess leaned over a little, burying her nose in the cushions. "Dude," she said, looking at me over the back of the sofa. "It already smells."

"She's right, Bella. You've really outdone yourself with this one," said Riley with a whistle as he looked around my apartment. "This is by far the worst apartment you've ever lived in."

With a look of utter disgust, he flicked the empty pizza boxes off the stool with the wonky leg, wiped it over with his hand, and sat down.

"Would you both stop hating on my love pad? It was the best I could afford!"

Riley's eyes widened. "This was the best? Were the others crack dens? Whore houses? I mean, what's the rent like for a shit hole like this? Are you paying them with your first born?"

I opened the tiny bar fridge and lifted the lid on one of the takeaway containers, grimacing as the smell of rancid food hit my nostrils.

"Yes, Riley. My landlord is Rumpelstiltskin. And the fat, sweaty guy next door is The Sugarplum Fairy. How about you go fuck yourself?"

Riley screwed up his nose as I took another container out, sniffed it, decided it was okay, and shoved it in my microwave. "What I get from housing assistance just about covers the rent. Plus, I have some money left in the bank from my last paycheck at McDonald's, so I should be fine."

I opened all the drawers in the kitchen, searching for a fork, or a spoon or some goddamn chopsticks or something. Unfortunately I found nothing but a plastic butter knife and a bottle opener. I really needed to go shopping.

Riley looked on as I tried to scoop up my noodles with the butter knife, splashes of soy dribbling on my chin as they flicked off the blade and back into the tub.

"And what does Charlie think of your current living conditions?" asked Riley, his eye twitching as drops of sauce landed on my top.

I shrugged, dabbing at the sauce on my shirt as I chewed. "You know Charlie; as long as I'm happy, he's happy."

Riley snorted. "I think all the mung beans and tofu have turned his brain to mush. That man needs to get some protein in there."

After I left for New York, Charlie met his lady friend, Sue. Sue owned the local non-profit, 100% organic, fair trade market in Forks. The last time I went home he was wearing a t-shirt made from organic cotton, and was helping Sue make a lentil and soy bean pie.

His relationship with the tie-dye wearing, incense burning, sun worshiping Sue mystified the fuck out of me from day one. But Charlie said he was happy - and in turn, I was happy to go along with it. He got this look in his eyes around her, like he'd follow her anywhere, do anything for her. It was kind of sickening in a puppy dog kind of way. Anyway, since I wasn't there, I was glad he had someone to look after him. Someone to cook him meat-free, salt-free, flavor-free dinners.
I dumped the empty Chinese container in the trash and put the knife in the sink. Since it was my only utensil, I thought it best to keep it on hand.

"Okay, I'm ready," I said, slipping my favourite black Chucks on.

Riley stared at me, aghast. "Ready for what? A barn dance?"

"If that's what your people are doing these days," I replied, throwing in a jaunty little jig for good measure.

"You are not coming out dressed like that! Even Jess made an effort."

I looked over at Jess, who was busy staring into space.

Vacant expression.

Wrinkled clothing.

Mismatched Converse shoes that she most likely found slung over power lines.

She looked the same as always to me.

I made a face at Riley, pointedly looking back at Jess, and then down at my own attire.

Riley huffed, uncrossing his arms and throwing them in the air. "She brushed her hair, okay? Just go put another shirt on," he argued.

I groaned, rolling my head back. "Why?"

"Because," Riley said, swiveling his head from side to side, in that move that only black women and gay men can pull off. "You look like a boy. And if we're going to a club full of beautiful, gay men, I refuse to be seen with a skinny, pasty little twink like you."

I started rummaging through the pile of clean washing on the sofa beside Jess. "There are so many things wrong with what you just said. For one, you are so obviously a bottom, and I don't have the equipment to be a top." I threw my hands in the air, frustrated. "Also, this is all I have," I finished, pointing to my self.

"There's that pretty top that Riley bought you for your last birthday," suggested Jess, giving me a sly, bloodshot side-eye.

I turned to glare at her. "Thank you for reminding me, Jessica," I spat through gritted teeth. For a stoner she was annoyingly switched on when she wanted to be.

"Oh! That's right," said Riley, clapping his hands.

He grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me into the bedroom, where he immediately began rummaging through my closet.

"Please, go ahead," I sighed, flopping onto my mattress. "Make yourself comfortable as you rifle through my personal belongings."

I heard him snort, his head buried deep in the recesses of my messy wardrobe. "I've seen you naked, girl. You've got no secrets from me."

It was true. He knew everything about me, and I him. I knew that as much as he complained about his job as a flight attendant - he loved it. He got to fly first class to amazing cities all over the world for free, and he got to wear a cute uniform - what more could a boy want?

I knew that he never had to 'come out' to his parents. They pretty much figured out that he was gay when his father caught him dressing as Whitney Houston, singing 'Queen Of The Night'.

And I also knew that whenever he came home, he would bring me little goodie bags full of tiny milk, sugar, and coffee, as well as anything else he could pilfer from first class. Then, in a stupid little ritual we had, we would sit and drink the teeny tiny milk and eat the biscuits.

"A-ha!" he shrieked triumphantly, holding the shirt up in the air. His face dropped as he tried to smooth out the crumpled material. "Bella, it still has the tag on it!"

"What?" I replied with a shrug. I'd shoved that thing in the darkest corner of my closet the moment I got it home. It was so flimsy and sheer, and so very not me.

Riley tossed the offending garment at me. "Sweetie, that is an Aro Volturi original, all the way from Italy. Put it the fuck on."

"I'll put you the fuck on," I mumbled as I stripped out of my t-shirt and pulled the top over my head. It looked nice, Riley had pretty good taste. But whatever.

"Well hello cleavage! I didn't even know you had those," teased Riley, poking his finger into my boobs.

"Yeah, well, my diet consists of Ramen noodles and Easy Mac. All the weight seems to go straight to my tits."

"Well, whatever it is, honey - keep doing it."

I tucked my hands under my arms, trying to cover my chest. "Are you done being my fairy godmother?"

Riley shrugged. "Sure, why not."

I turned to leave and felt him rip the hair tie from my ponytail, no doubt taking chunks of my hair with it.

"Ow! What the fuck?"

He grinned as he flounced past me and into the bathroom. "Now you're done. You should put some lip gloss on too."

I rubbed the back of my head, expecting to feel a bald patch.

"So can we go now?" I asked, shoving my ID in my back pocket.

Riley stopped preening in front of my bathroom mirror and stepped out into the hallway.

"Do I look okay?" he asked, doing a little pirouette for me.

"You look lovely as always, princess."

Riley stopped spinning and put his hands on his hips. "You're snarkier than usual tonight. What's up?"

"Nothing," I snapped, rolling my eyes.

Riley's eyebrow arched as he waggled a finger in the air at me. "Don't 'nothing' me, honey. Something's up. When was the last time know?" He made a crude gesture with his hand. "Gave your nubbin a little rubbin?"

Resisting the urge to fiddle with the obscenely low cut top, I shoved my hands in my back pockets. "My beaver is just fine, thank you."

Riley snorted rather ungracefully. "Don't give me that shit, Bella. It's obvious that your sexual deprivation is manifesting itself in feelings of low self-worth and aggression."

"Where on earth did you hear that?" I asked, scowling as I realized it made a whole lot of sense.

"Dr. Phil," grinned Riley. "In other words; you're being a bitch and a massive pain in my ass, and you need to get laid."

He was right. I did need to get laid. But offers had been few and far between, and ever since Peter, who wanted to pee on me in the shower, I just wasn't ready to bring someone home. But still, I missed being close with someone. I missed the smell of a man, the feel of roughened hands on my skin, I even missed the awkward morning-after moments.

I hung my head, suddenly feeling a little bit sorry for myself. "It's just been a while since someone other than me made the effort to get me off."

Riley grimaced, nodding his head. "You getting carpal tunnel?"

I laughed, wishing it wasn't true. "It's just not the same, you know?"

Sighing dramatically, Riley threw an arm over my shoulder, pressing his forehead against the top of my head. "Wanna talk about it?"

Pouting dramatically, I continued with my wallowing. "I just want to feel someone on me. Feel the weight of a real person on top of me, you know? That's what I miss the most." I felt Riley nod and I turned to look at him. "It doesn't even have to be sex. What I wouldn't give for a good spoon. Or a nook. Hell, I'd settle for a guy just lying on top of me, not moving."

Riley pulled me to him, holding me in a tight hug. "Cheer up, Bee. You never know what's around the corner. Tonight could be your lucky night."

I looked up, resting my chin on his chest. "At a gay club?"

Riley shrugged. "You just never know. Tell you what, I've got something that might make you feel better. A little gift."

I couldn't help but smile as Riley began digging around in his pockets. "A gift?"

"These," he said as he produced a small little baggie with three tiny pills in it, "are called Glittering Vamps."

"Whoa!" I exclaimed, grabbing the bag from him for closer inspection. "Where did you get them?"

"Just another perk of being a first class attendant."

I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. "You mean someone left them behind?"

He snorted, snatching the pills from me. "No! You'd be amazed at what people will do for an extra blanket. Now, do you want one or not?"

I chewed on my nub of a thumb nail. "I don't know..."

"Oh, come on, Bella! You're twenty-six years old. You have no job, no boyfriend, and you live in this crappy apartment that, I'm sorry, smells like week old sweaty ass. What have you got to lose?"

Wow. Kick a girl while she's down. Did I mention Riley was a major bitch?

"If I do, will you shut up about my apartment?"

Riley put a hand on his hip as he looked at me. "No...Yes...Maybe."

"It means no complaining when you have to come over."

Riley rolled his eyes.

"And," I continued. "No sly comments about the smell, the sticky flooring, or the hole in the roof that drips when it rains."

Riley gasped. "Ever?"


I held my hand out and Riley dropped a pill into it. "Fine. No nasty comments about your beloved apartment."

With a final deep breath, I looked down at the purple, chalky looking pill, and with a smile, threw my head back and swallowed it.

Riley's eyes widened. "I probably wouldn't have taken the whole thing at once, but whatever. Let's get you to a club before you start bouncing off the walls."

"Am I going to be alright?" I asked, clutching my throat.

He smiled. "You'll be fine. Let's get this party started!"

I waved my hand in front of my face, glad to still be seeing only five fingers.

"You ready, Jess?" asked Riley, snapping his fingers at her.

There was no answer from her as she sat staring at the television screen. The girl was so fucking baked she was staring at a blank screen.

"Jess?" I called a little louder.

Riley looked at me, shaking his head.

"Jess!" we shouted in unison.

She turned her head to us slowly. "Huh?"

"What are you doing? You know the TV is off, right?"

She nodded. "I couldn't be bothered turning it on."

Like I said - fried.

"The Cockpit? Really?"

"What?" laughed Riley. "It's catchy."

"Herpes is catchy, Riley. The Cockpit is just lame."

"I don't get it," mused Jess, her mouth gaping as she looked up at the pink neon sign.

Riley waved a hand, ignoring her comment. "Of course you don't. Anyway, who cares what it's called. We get free entry and cheap drinks. So just shut up and enjoy it."

We air-kissed and fake smiled our way through the doors, only to be greeted by two well-muscled men in pilot uniforms. Which, when they turned around, were ass-less.

I had to hand it to the gay man - they knew how to throw a party. The walls of the night club were painted with black sparkly paint, making the entire room glitter and shine in the flashing lights. The bar was lit from underneath with a bright pink neon light, and was manned with buff men, all in various states of undress.

Riley was in his element as he giggled and flirted with the bartenders, batting his lashes and touching their arms as he laughed. Jesus, the guy had more swagger than Jay-Z.

It wasn't that I'd ever really had much of a problem finding men. It just seemed like New York was running low on straight, good-looking guys who weren't homicidal kleptomaniacs, or worse; business men. It was one lesson I'd learned the hard way when I moved to New York - to stay away from the corporate types. Sure, they looked nice, all shiny and sharp in their two-piece suits, tailored and cut to perfection with their coiffed hair and forty-dollar manicures. But really, they were just douche bags wrapped in pretty paper to make them more appealing to the fairer sex.
Just thinking about it made my blood boil and my heart rate spike.

Or was that the drugs?

I looked down at my hand, lifting it to my face. I'd never realized how nice my hands were. I watched as I touched my thumb to my middle finger, and then to the pointer, they all seemed to be a little numb. I grinned as I swished my hand back and forth in front of my eyes, watching the light dance off my skin.

There were most definitely more than five fingers.

"Riley," I hissed, tugging on his shirt.

Riley plucked my hand from his shirt. "Don't tug on the Armani, sweetie."

No wonder Riley got more action than I did, he was so fucking pretty! Well styled hair, pretty blue eyes and heavy dark lashes. If I was a guy, and he liked short, lanky brunettes, I'd totally let him suck my dick.

"I feel weeiird," I whispered, running my fingertips down my cheeks.

Just hearing my voice was strange. It was like I could hear myself inside my head. Inside my head!

Riley laughed, swapping my beer for a bottle of water. "Just take a little sip of this and you'll be just fine."

My fingers were all tingly, and I could feel it spreading down my arms and into my chest, like warm honey. The bottle of water was cool in my hands, so cool. And wet. And moist.

"Moist. Moissst. Mmmmoist."

I could hear Riley laughing as he tugged me towards the dance floor, the word 'moist' still tumbling around in my mouth like a lead weight. The lights were so fucking shiny! And it felt like the music was plugged right into my veins, like it was flowing into my body, making my feet move.

A tall brunette guy moved up beside me, swaying his hips to the beat.

"Oh my God," I yelled over the music. "You're so pretty!"

He giggled and spun me under his arm like a ballerina. "You're prettier!"

I'd never felt so alive! I was warm, but cold. Tired but buzzed. And most of all I was excited! I could feel my heart beating in my chest, thundering against my rib cage. I wanted to kiss someone, anyone! And I don't think I'd ever smiled that much in my life. I was smiling so hard that my cheeks were actually starting to hurt.

I lifted my hands to my face again, marveling at the way that my fingers could be so tingly - yet I couldn't feel them. I clapped them together just to test - amazed that I felt nothing. I touched my fingers to my face gently, the skin was so soft, like velvet, or baby skin.

"Riley!" I yelled, grabbing his hand. "Feel my skin, it's so soft!"

Riley turned to me, still dancing to the loud techno music as the back of his fingers caressed my cheek. "It is! Oh my god, it's amazing!"

The feel of Riley's hand on my face set off a myriad of emotions. I was still excited - but now, I was more turned on than I had ever been in my entire life. It was like I was one huge, horny ball of lust.

So there I was, high, horny, and stuck in a gay bar.

There is a banner up on my profile by the lovely Christag.

Review if you're feeling frisky!