Disclaimer: I own nothing but Snarkella and Romeoward's dirty fucking mouths.


There I sat, at home. On fucking Valentine's Day... Alone. Baking cookies that I would likely have ended up gorging myself on before the night was over and I took my sorry ass to bed, wallowing in self-pity; angry with the man I loved.

That fucker never forgot March fourteenth, the male version of Valentine's Day; he'd get all stupid goddamn excited about it a few weeks before, and was always quick to remind me. As if I needed a reason to make him a steak and blow him.

All he had to do was ask.

My overachieving boyfriend and his stupid fucking career ambitions were seriously killing my Edward high. I mean, come on, I wasn't one of those frilly bitches who got all excited over Valentine's Day—you know the ones—expecting teddy bears, or chocolate or diamonds and shit. That definitely wasn't me, but, fuck, it would have been nice if he'd even acknowledged the shit before he'd left for the hospital that afternoon. Even just one fucking mention and I might have been satisfied.

Perhaps then I wouldn't have spent the evening turning our kitchen into what looked like the aftermath of a storm. My heynow down south needed some storm action, not our kitchen. My door was in serious, desperate need of a sudden windstorm to pass through and give it a good, hard, bang. I honestly couldn't remember the last time Little Bella had been visited by Not-So-Little Edward.

I'd tried to be understanding, because I knew that he was tired a lot of the time, and that he worked really hard. In truth, what he was accomplishing—what he had accomplished—was no easy feat. He'd told me that most of the residents he'd come up through the ranks with hadn't made it, instead succumbing to the pressure and giving up on their dreams of becoming a doctor.

Not my boyfriend. He hadn't given in to any of those pressures, he'd stuck through it and sure, I was proud of him. But that didn't mean I wasn't allowed to throw myself a pity party on the evening of Valentine's Day.

After all, this was a holiday. A bullshit one, but still. Holidays were our thing. Weren't they? I honestly couldn't remember when they had started to feel less important than they had at the beginning of our relationship.

Rosalie and Alice hadn't fucking helped. Rose had called to announce that she and Em would be celebrating the end to their 'post baby cockblock', while Alice had been busy texting me about the special shit she and Tex had been doing.

Fucking bitch was sunning herself on the balcony of a cruise ship somewhere in the middle of the Caribbean. Was it wrong of me to wish for them to be stuck with one of those captains who had a serious drinking problem and that they'd end up lost in the middle of the Bermuda fucking Triangle?

Bitter, party of one, please!

Yeah, I was bitter. I knew such luxuries wouldn't be afforded to Edward and I until he was done with like, five hundred more fucking years of his residency. We had discussed the future, marriage and babies and vacations, and decided that as soon as he was able, we would get there, but I was getting a little tired of waiting. I knew, rationally, that I shouldn't have been angry at any of them or any of the other couples who were spending their evenings together, but every girl was entitled to having one of those days.

This was mine.

The oven buzzing brought me from my thoughts. Dropping the stack of cookie sheets I'd somehow managed to begin rearranging, I turned to pull out the batch of chewy chocolate heaven that waited for me inside.

Placing an oven mitt on my right hand, I opened the door, inhaling deeply. Ahhh, heaven. Sex schmex, I have cookies, bitch! And they're allll minnneeee... Leaving the cookies on the counter, I walked to the fridge for milk. Eating fresh baked cookies without a tall glass of ice cold milk was just all kinds of wrong.

Pulling the refrigerator door open, I grabbed for the gallon of milk, not really paying much attention to what I was doing in my excitement for cookies, and in typical Bella fashion, the bitch slipped. I'd only managed to get my pinkie finger into the little opening on the side before the heavy sucker started to drop toward the floor, taking my finger with it as it headed south. It wasn't until I heard the sickening crunch of my poor pinkie finger that the pain registered. Sinking to the floor in a puddle of spilled milk, I screamed for Edward.

Only to remember that he wasn't there.

All I'd wanted was a cookie... or ten. And maybe a good fuck, and for my boyfriend to have remembered goddamn Valentine's Day. Instead, I was doing a one-handed quick change of my pajamas so I could get my ass into the car and drive to the ER where I'd be forced to admit that I wasn't capable of pulling milk out of the fridge without some kind of accident happening to me.

Edward had joked, more than a few times, that perhaps it would have been worth it for us to invest in one of those sumo suits so I didn't have to worry about hurting myself so much; maybe he was right.

Asshole.

Fuck. She was going to kill me. I hadn't intended for her to think I'd forgotten Valentine's Day, but I'd been planning this shit for what felt like…well, forever. I was too scared that if I mentioned anything about it, I'd get too fucking excited and reveal my plans to her before I was ready. I'd spent way too much time keeping her in the dark about it to fuck it all up now.

Since I knew I had a big mouth, and was likely to blab at any moment about what I'd been planning, I'd spent much of the last month in the hospital working hours that technically, I didn't need to be working. I hated keeping secrets from her, and it wasn't fucking easy, but it had to be done.

Another thing that wasn't easy was being away from her so much. I could tell that we were suffering from it, and I knew it wouldn't be long before she finally gave up on my sorry ass and took a hike to find someone better equipped to handle her needs. The thought of that was something I couldn't handle. I knew I couldn't lose the best thing that had ever happened to me.

Sure, she was moody and bossy and we got on each other's nerves sometimes, but what couple didn't have those kinds of problems? She was mine. We were made for each other, and without her, I knew I was nothing. Which was why I had been planning for months to finally tell her just how much I needed and wanted her in my life.

For the rest of it.

After Rose and Emmett had finally taken the leap, getting married and squeezing out a kid, I had considered it. But now that Jasper and Alice were preparing to do the same, I knew it was our turn as well. It wasn't like I felt forced or anything, I wanted to marry Bella. I'd known I wanted to be with her forever the first night I met her, but life gets crazy and you learn to get

comfortable with the way things are.

Sometimes you forget that you're not the only person in your life.

Once I'd finally decided to stop pussy-footing around, I'd gone straight to my big brother and asked him for help. Dickhead agreed, but only after ribbing me for an hour straight about how proud he was that I was finally growing up.

We'd spent several weekends in a row—under the ruse of working on shit at the store—wandering the streets of Seattle and visiting every jewelry store we could find. I'd been determined to go to as many as I could until I found the perfect ring for Bella.

My picky ass ended up dragging my poor brother to sixteen stores, including one where a very small Japanese woman nearly convinced Emmett he would look 'sosoprettah' with a set of gold teeth, before I'd finally realized that I just wasn't going to 'find' it. If I ever wanted to be happy with the ring, I needed to design the shit myself. So, that's exactly what I'd done.

Sadly, Emmett never got to go back and visit his new lady friend and discuss the gold teeth, which he reminded me about often. Once the details had been worked out, and I stopped nitpicking on details that really didn't fucking matter, it took them a few months to have the ring ready. I'd been hoping to be able to ask her over Christmas, when we'd gone on our annual tree cutting day. I'd thought it would have been pretty fucking perfect to do it up there in the woods. But, sadly, they hadn't gotten the ring back to me in time.

So, I figured, what better day could there be than Valentine's Day? I was sure she wouldn't have appreciated me proposing on my favorite holiday, and then, you know, expecting her to blow me and cook me a steak.

This afternoon, I'd kissed her goodbye and left the house without mentioning shit about tonight, still hoping to surprise her. I had only committed to work a four hour shift, and then we would have the entire weekend together to celebrate.

Naked.

Fuck, I hope so.

Unfortunately, a particularly horrible MVA had come in shortly after I arrived, and I was running late. Scrambling to get the fuck out of there so I could get home to her.

Reservations at our favorite restaurant in Seattle had been made weeks ago and a courier should have arrived at our house earlier in the afternoon to drop off the new dress I'd bribed Alice to help me pick out for her to wear. I kept expecting for her to call me, bitching me out when she realized that I'd tricked her, but I'd had yet to hear from her.

Sighing, I glanced up at the clock before exiting. Noticing the time, I realized that if I managed to get out of there right then without being stopped, and drove about twenty over the limit, we would still miss our reservations.

Shit! This is not going to go over well.

Just as I'd walked over the threshold, I heard an intern yell my name. "Dr. Cullen! Dr. Cullen, wait, please!"

I rounded on him angrily. "What, Peter? I have to go."

"There," he paused, out of breath. "There is a woman in triage asking for you."

My heart sank as I pushed past him and ran toward triage. My thoughts filled with dread; was this why she hadn't called? Oh, God. What would I do if she was hurt? I would have nobody to blame but myself, she should have been with me…

Walking through the door, I searched the crowd of people, looking for the familiar head of brown hair. Finally catching sight of her, I breathed a sigh of relief. She didn't appear hurt, but one of the nurses was holding her hand up, wiggling her little finger back and forth.

You clumsy, adorable, beautiful girl.

"Hey, bitch!" I hissed. Looking up in embarrassment, I realized what I had said. I was frustrated, and angry.

After I'd arrived at the ER, some testy snot at the front desk had told me Edward was busy and that if I wasn't 'family' that I would need to take a seat until they had time to page him. I was livid, and my finger hurt, and I still just really wanted a cookie.

I'd decided instead to just find my way to Triage and see if they could help me instead. The girl there was much more helpful—thankfully—until of course, she started pulling and wiggling my broken finger around and my filter went down the toilet.

Before I could apologize for my outburst, a flash of copper caught my eye. Moving my eyes, I caught sight of a familiar set of fingers—my favorite set of fingers—squeezing the nurse's shoulder.

Lifting my eyes to his face, I could tell that Fucker was trying not to laugh at me. I was tempted to flip him off, but it was really hard to be pissed at him when he was dressed in his scrubs.

Hello, Doctor McSexyPants.

"Maria, I think I can take it from here," he said. I sneered at him a little. I was obviously still angry at him. "Can you bring me a splint?" He asked, ignoring my furious glare. "I'm going to bring her back to one of the private rooms so she doesn't disturb any of the other patients."

Once Maria scurried off, I stood up, glaring at the smirk he was wearing. Fucker.

"What did you do?" he asked.

"I got into a fight with a gallon of milk." "I'm not even going to ask," he laughed.

"It's not funny," I muttered under my breath. "Come on, Slugger, let's go get you fixed up."

He put his hand on the small of my back, pushing me back through the Triage door, in the opposite direction toward a set of small patient rooms. Pushing the door open, he walked inside and he lifted me onto the end of the gurney before turning around to dig through the drawers.

Suddenly, he dropped everything from his hands, scaring the shit out of me, and spun around. "Wait. How long have you been here?"

"Like..." I glanced around for a clock. "I don't know, an hour?"

"Shit," he mumbled. "So much for our plans." He began doing that thing where he talked under his breath and curled his lips and looked all fucking adorably annoyed.

"Wanna run that by me again?"

"I said 'so much for our plans'—I made plans for tonight, Bella. And now... I fucked up... and you're hurt...and it's my fault," he pouted.

"Okay, whatever. It's not your fault. And I had plans, too. Cookies and emo and being pissed off at you!"

He was still muttering to himself like he had had no fucking idea what I'd said. The only words I picked up were 'reservations', 'gold teeth' and I think there was something in there about a car accident.

Frustrated, I screamed his name and he finally stopped brooding and looked up at me. His eyes got a little wide and a blush colored his cheeks.

He bit his lower lip, looking sheepish. "Sorry. What did you say?"

A knock at the door broke the silence that followed his question as I contemplated whether or not to bitch him out now... wait until he got home (to remind him of just what he'd forgotten)or to fall at his feet for being so adorable.

He turned from me, walking to open the door and finding Maria standing outside with what he'd asked for in her hands. She handed it to him with a smile. "Do you—need anything else, Dr. Cullen?"

"No, thank you Maria. We'll just be a few minutes."

Once she'd disappeared, he shut the door tightly and walked back over to the pile of shit he'd dropped on the counter—before having his little spaz attack a few minutes earlier. Remaining quiet, I kicked my feet back and forth as they dangled from the gurney, realizing then that I must have looked like major ass. My hair was barely combed, and I was wearing over-sized pajamas.

At least you're not still wet and smelling of spilled milk.

I was sure then that it would be wise for me to allow him to fix my finger and for me to get the hell out of there before I embarrassed him in front of one of his colleagues or some shit.

He turned, stepping back toward me and set some things off to my side. Reaching over, he lifted my hand up and started examining my finger with his 'doctor face' on. It was then that I finally noticed the swelling that had become pretty fucking obvious at that point. He hissed, running his fingers across the skin gingerly. Bending forward, he pressed a kiss to my finger softly and my heart swooned at his gesture. Momentarily, I may have forgotten what I was angry with him for.

"This is all my fault," he whispered.

"Why would this be your fault? I can't expect you to come home and pull the milk from the fridge every time I need it."

"No, but if I would have just told you what the fuck was going on... I'm so sorry, baby," he whispered.

Placing my hand in my lap, he lowered his head to kiss my neck. "I should have been there, so you wouldn't have thought I forgot Valentine's Day. You shouldn't have been at home baking your emo chocolate chip cookies and you shouldn't have hurt your finger. And our night wouldn't be ruined and I got a ring and the reservations and we missed them and… fuck!"

He was rambling again, so I flicked his ear. "Edward, what the fuck did you just say?"

'I got a ring.' Huh? He did not just say that... Did he?

"Ow, that hurt," he pulled back, pouting as he reached up to rub at his ear. "This is so not how I

saw this night going," he sighed, reaching into his pocket.

He pulled out one of those black velvet boxes—you know, one of those fucking boxes. Not gonna lie, I might have squeaked and tried to clap my hands together, which was a really stupid damn idea.

Whatever. I'd forgotten that my finger was broken. And he had a fucking velvet box.

Rocking back and forth slightly, I did my very best to fight back the tears that threatened to fall. I wasn't sure if they were from the pain and the overwhelming feeling of what I thought he was trying to tell me. Probably both.

The ring and his admission forgotten, his features softened and he pulled my hands apart, examining if I'd done any further damage to the break in my finger. Leaning forward, he pressed his soft lips against my skin with the slightest of pressure, looking up at me from under his lashes. Noticing the tears that had begun to fall, he leaned forward, kissing them from my cheeks. He kept whispering he was sorry over and over and over and over again.

His hands gripped the top of my thighs, pulling me closer to the edge of the gurney. Using the tip of his nose to urge my head a little to the side, he began kissing the side of my neck, doing that thing with his tongue that made me shiver with anticipation.

"I didn't forget Valentine's Day, Bella. I had plans. There was a dress and reservations and I was going to ask you to marry me, but it seems I can't even do that right," he sighed, tickling the skin of my neck. "I'm sorry."

Though I was enjoying his lips more than a little, my eyes were glued to that fucking velvet box while his tongue worked it's magic, suddenly making me forget anything else but him. I was so absorbed in his tongue, and his lips and everything else I'd almost missed what he said.

It wasn't until his teeth bit down on the skin of my jaw and he spoke again that it finally registered and I started listening again.

"Will you marry me?" he whispered, his teeth moving from my jaw toward my lips. "Marry me." His hands pulled my hips forward again, and my eyes closed. "Yes! Yes..." I trailed off when he

pushed himself into me and I felt him, hard and... God, I wanted him. "Yes, I'll marry you."

As soon as I finished, his lips were on mine, wet and warm and uncontrollable and full of all the love, passion and need that we'd been missing during the previous few months.

At that point, Little Bella reached over, switched on a little Marvin Gaye and began shaking her ass, singing along... because she had plans too, and they were happening right then.

In the hospital.

Fuck the broken finger.

With the heel of my uninjured hand, I reached back and braced myself against the gurney, spreading my legs wide enough to accommodate him. I wiggled my body forward until I was pressed more tightly against him.

He groaned, and I felt him twitching against me before he began to pull his hips away as if he suddenly realized what I was about to make happen. I was having none of that and closed my thighs around his hips, pushing myself forward again until my heat brushed against him.

He gasped, moving back as his mouth fell open and his eyes darted toward the door. His eyes scanned the room, as if to ensure that we were still alone. When his eyes returned to mine, the fiery need I saw there spurred me further. His teeth scraped across the skin of his lower lip as he struggled to catch his breath. I could tell he was close to being just as worked up as I was and that it wouldn't take much convincing for him to agree with what I wanted at that moment.

What we needed.

He stepped back toward me, hesitantly, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. Still careful not to disturb my pinkie, I moved my hands between our bodies and reached for the drawstring on his scrub bottoms, tugging at the bow there. His head fell forward until it rested on my shoulder and he groaned. Pressing a warm kiss against my collarbone, he began to mumble into my skin.

"I have imagined this so many fucking times. You visiting me here. Letting me take you into a dark corner and fuck you," he whispered. "Just knowing that any moment someone could interrupt... You have no idea how badly I want you," he groaned. "but we can't..."

Oh, hell no, you started this Romeo, you're going to finish it.

"Edward." I said loudly. He pulled back, eyes snapping to mine. I reached forward, tugging at the hem of his scrubs again, pulling him back between my legs. "Shut up and fuck me."

His mouth opened and his eyes narrowed, because I'd never really been that forceful with him before. But, I needed him.

And fuck, I'd dreamed about it, too.

Getting fucked by Dr. Cullen was entirely different than being made love to by Edward. My nipples hardened at the thought of him taking me, right there.

We'd just gotten engaged and it wasn't perfect but it was us, and Jesus if he fought me I would tie him up...

Backing up from me, he ran toward the door and clicked the lock into place, then secured the blinds on the window that looked out over the entire ER before stalking back toward me. He began to pull the stethoscope from his neck and drop it to the counter next to him. No fucking way…

"Ah ah, lose the top. Keep the stethoscope Dr. Cullen," I grinned at him, spreading my legs wide again in an invitation.

It was then that I realized he wouldn't hesitate this time. His scrub shirt came off with the quickness and before I knew it, my shirt was being pulled up over my head, too.

His mouth lowered to attack the skin of my chest as he removed my shirt fully and threw it behind him. The sound of a crash echoed throughout the room, but was ignored as his teeth, tongue and lips made a path lower until his perfect lips wrapped around one pink, taut nipple and his hand came up to caress the other. Those wonderful fucking fingers ran in slow, teasing circles, causing me to moan in earnest.

Reaching up, I straightened the stethoscope around his bare neck, trailing my fingers down the sculpted muscles of his back. He moaned and it vibrated through me. When I hit a ticklish spot, he jerked forward and bit down on my nipple just a little harder. So I hit the spot again. And again...

My hands reached for the drawstring of his scrubs again. Pushing the fingers of my good hand inside, I realized then that he wasn't wearing anything underneath. With some effort, I managed to get them just below his ass, enough for my hand to feel the muscles there move as he started to struggle with removing my pajama bottoms.

"Fuck," he whispered. "You're not wearing underwear are you?"

Blushing, I grinned at him again. "No, I'm not. I was at home. Alone. On Valentine's Day. What purpose would I have for underwear?"

He growled at me, tugging at my pajama bottoms again. And fuck, I wanted to say 'ooh, do that again.' but he was still tugging, so I tried hopping quickly to help him out a little... and his face, good god his face… He was giving me the 'fat kid looking at a cupcake' kinda look, making me grin in delight.

Eventually, he managed to get them to the floor. His eyes sparkled again—apparently my LoL (Lack-o-Ladywear) excited him.

Still grinning, I looked up just as his lips attached to mine. There was nothing soft about his kiss, he was voracious as his tongue plunged into my mouth with vigor. An energy I'd never felt from him before consumed all rational thought and I ground myself against him harder.

"Fuck, Bella. Say it again," he mumbled against my lips, his warm breath mingling with mine. When I didn't respond right away he kissed me again, even harder.

"Again," he demanded.

"Fuck me, Dr. Cullen," I answered, moaning when I felt his hand slip between my thighs.

Leaning back on my hands, his long fingers worked a path up and down my slit, teasing at my entrance before pressing roughly against my clit and then back again. He teased me over and over until my breathing was so loud I was sure someone was going to hear us.

Continuing his exploration with one hand, he reached down and gripped himself with the other. My arousal grew as I watched him squeeze and stroke himself. He kicked his foot forward and pushed down the lever on what I guessed was the brake for the gurney and his eyes said brace yourself, this is gonna be a rough ride.

He let go of himself, removing his hand from between my legs long enough to allow me to wrap my arms around his neck securely. His hands immediately moved to my thighs, hitching my legs around his hips. He lifted me until my ass rested just at the edge of the thin mattress.

Letting go of one of my legs to grip his dick in his hand again, he guided himself toward me. Teasingly, he ran the head along my slit a few times, before he pushed forward roughly, causing the bed to squeak a little.

Leaning forward, he covered the scream that came from my throat with a deep kiss. Once he was inside me, he remained still for only a moment.

His hips began to retreat, pulling himself out of me slowly and creating the most delicious feeling. "You have to be quiet," he whispered. "or we'll have to stop," he pushed forward again, just as slow, "and I really," his hips bucked forward quickly, "really," and again, "don't want to fucking stop."

Fuck. I didn't want to stop either.

Nodding at him, I bit my lip to keep myself quiet. His hips propelled forward again, and this time he was the one to get loud. All of his inhibitions and worries seemed to disappear as he drove his hips into mine, faster and faster.

Gripping his neck tighter and moving my hands up into his hair, I moved my mouth down his face, nibbling his jaw and moving toward his ear. He tasted like sweat and man and Edward and I decided to egg him on a little.

Biting down on his earlobe, I tugged on his hair and whispered to him. "How does it feel to know that there is only a window separating us from being caught? To know that at any moment, someone could walk in and interrupt?"

His resounding growl was deep, it vibrated from his body into mine as he continued to fuck me in a way that he'd never done before. It seemed as if all of his careful control that he normally possessed had disappeared with my pants.

I could see the vein in his forehead sticking out, the sweat there gleaming in the light above us, signaling that he was holding back and trying not to come before I did. But, I didn't care about getting off, I'd gotten what I wanted.

Him.

Too caught up in the feeling of me wrapped around him to do much else, he panted warm, heavy breaths against my already overheated skin. I wanted to see him fall apart.

"I want you to come inside me. To stop worrying about what I need and think of nothing but yourself. Be selfish."

His teeth sunk into the skin of my shoulder, and he groaned as his hips moved frantically against me. I was so close to the edge from the intensity of his thrusts pushing against my clit that I was struggling not to scream again.

My hands roamed, pulling at the hair on the back of his neck roughly as my hips raised to match each of his thrusts. He bit down harder and his hips began to move faster, as if we were in a challenge to see who could get the other there first.

The mixture of excitement and arousal in the air between us sparked even stronger as he wrapped an arm around my back, pulling me away from his body to rearrange us until I lay back on the gurney and his hips slowed. I was thankful then that he didn't try to move us far since his shoes were in place and his scrubs still hung precariously low across his thighs.

Leaning forward, his lips trailed across the skin of my stomach, up to my breasts. His tongue came out again, tasting and teasing the skin there. My back arched, silently begging him for more. His pace went from frantic to slow, but strong.

Long and deep.

Full and toe curling.

He looked up at me, releasing his grip from my thighs and moving his hands to the edge of the bed next to my breasts.

"I want to be selfish," he said, leaning down until I felt his teeth trail across my rib and his lips close around one of my nipples again. My hips pushed against him, but he held me down with

his body weight, keeping me still. I whimpered but he cut me off when he started to speak again.

"I want to take everything you give me, but don't you get it, Bella?" He pushed in until our bodies were pressed together fully once again; like two pieces of a puzzle.

His hips were still against me when he spoke again. "When I please you, that is me being selfish. Because it pleases me to do it. I want to see your face when I make you come, the way your eyes darken and your face flushes so beautifully. There is nothing I want more than that," he smirked. "Well there was... but you just said yes."

He began to move his hips again, grinding up in the way he knew I loved. Coupled with his words about how pleasing me was him being selfish and the way he felt inside, I began to tighten

around him. With one more long, full stroke, he made the face I knew so well. Head falling back, eyes closed and mouth open, he did what I asked while my body responded to what he wanted and joined him in release.

Struggling to catch my breath, I rested my head against her stomach, pressing my lips into her skin with a smile.

She said yes!

And holy shit she just fulfilled my greatest fantasy.

Looking up, my eyes caught sight of the black box above her head. Reaching forward I grabbed it, staring down into her eyes. She was all flushed and panting and just fucking beautiful.

And she was going to be my wife.

Opening the box, I pulled the ring out and grabbed her left hand, sliding it onto her third finger. She watched me, a small smile on her lips. Leaning down, I pressed a kiss against it and smiled back at her.

Best Valentine's Day ever! "Let's go home, Mrs. Cullen."


Thanks for reading!