Title: It's A Bird! It's A Plane! No. It's...Nerdman?

Summary: Bella's Superhero may not be faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, or be able to leap tall buildings in a single bound, but he still manages to capture something impressive—her heart.

Pairing: Edward/Bella

Rating: M

Word Count: 5000

"Hot?"

I look over my shoulder and notice Rose crinkle up her nose as she takes in my stance. I am lost in the deepest daydream, standing here in our apartment with my arms raised above my head, hands clasped together, airing out my armpits in front of the fan propped inside the window. My long hair is already swept up and twisted into a knot on top of my head, offering a cooler alternative to my usual work style. At least my bra and undies match since I'm only donning those at the moment.

"Yep." If you only knew.

"The air's not fixed, obviously."

"Definitely not. I'm going to sweat to death if building maintenance doesn't do something about it soon."

"Yeah, this is freaking crazy. We've only been in this condo a few months, and the A/C is on the fritz already?"

"I know. It better get fixed soon or else." I make a mean crazy face and punch the air, mimicking the sweet moves I witnessed at the bus stop today.

She huffs a laugh, knowing I couldn't kill a fly, and grabs a cold beer from the fridge. The spritz escaping Rose's bottle of beer when she pops off the lid captures my attention, and I leave my coveted place at the fan to retrieve a Bud Light for myself.

I plop my butt on one of our bar stools in front of my computer, twist the lid off the cold bottle and take a swig. "Ah." It hits the spot.

Rose looks at my computer. "I probably don't want to know, but what are you working on?"

I've been doing side work for my uncle Royce who collects and sells antiques, uploading items to Craigslist for him. He's been known to have some pretty interesting and unique things for sale, keeping me and Rose in stitches. A few weeks ago, I put up an ad for some Vibra-King products named: Fukuoku 9000, Handy Hannah and the Dubl Duck Vibrating Massager — all were vintage vibrators that were bought instantly by The Vintage Vibrator Museum. Who the hell knew that even existed?

This time, though, the ad is mine, and it's beyond ridiculous.

"Not what you think. It's for me this time, not Uncle Royce."

I'm searching for my nerdy soul mate, the one I witnessed in all his glory today at the bus stop, and this is the only way I can think to go about it. I'm not at the point of desperate enough—yet—to rent a billboard, but that doesn't mean I haven't thought of that angle or haven't already checked into pricing on one of those bad boys. And let me tell you—those mother-humpers can stick it.

"You'd never believe it if I told you. I'm still kinda in shock."

"So?" She tilts her head and raises an eyebrow to prod me.

"It was epic." I close my eyes, smiling, remembering him for the thousandth time.

"Let me guess. The girl with the huge purse full of candy and whatnots asked if you wanted a bite of her candy bar?"

"Shut up." I flick her arm, and she throws her head back laughing.

"Oh, I know, you asked to use her lip gloss this time—" Rose stops, laughing her ass off because she knows how pissed I was when I had to throw my favorite lip gloss in the trash after purse girl asked to use it.

"No! Jesus, that was just … wrong, and so gross."

"Okay, I get another guess." Rose smiles, pulling out the barstool next to mine.

She must think this is a game, and it so is not.

She gulps down a mouthful of Bud as she sits down. "Ben Cheney asked you out again and you said yes?"

"Hell. No. He's a dirty douche."

"All right, spill. What happened? It must be good."

"I witnessed one of the most amazing things ever." I fan myself. This time it's not from the heat in our apartment but from the wild images replaying in my mind.

"Continue." She pulls another long swig from her beer bottle as she motions with her hand.

"I witnessed a purse snatcher and someone—my Nerdman—ran after the assailant."

Rose's eyes widen. "Seriously? And what Nerdman?"

I shrug. "Oh, he's new on my radar—as of today."

Rose smirks and nods her head. "Okay, so does it have something to do with what you're working on?" She points to the now darkened computer screen.

I nod. "So, here's the deal." I reach behind me for the messenger bag hanging on my bar stool, pulling it into my lap. "I need to return this." My eyes trace the killer design surrounding an E drawn on the flap.

"What is it? I mean, duh, it's a leather bag but …"

"It's my Nerdman's." I run my finger over the computer pad, and the screen lights up. Rose leans over and squints at the words I've written.

"Which still doesn't tell me why you are placing an ad on Craigslist." She speaks slowly.

"Just listen. My ad will explain everything."

.

.

.

Dear Messenger Bag Hero,

I've been praying to the Superhero Gods that you see this Craigslist ad. Just after I was totally convinced there were few men left in this world for me, you swoop in and try to save the day.

And I won't lie to you, I liked it—a lot. It was incredibly hot. I may or may not have needed to go home and strip practically naked to cool down. No lie.

I was the girl in a corporate skirt and low V-neck, sleeveless blouse because it's been hotter than the depths of Hell outside. I had seen you earlier while I waited on the bus, walking around, and truth be told, I didn't give you much thought because I was periodically checking my phone for work. But don't read into that, please. My red storm is in town this week, and my job has been stressing me out.

As I waited, I saw a man run up to an elderly woman sitting nearby on a bench, do a ninja-like cartwheel and then grab her purse. She screamed, and this was when you took note. You were walking right past me at this point and threw your fancy chai tea latte at the ground before tossing me your messenger bag—which is still in my possession, by the way.

"Not again," you said. "Not in my house! No way!"

Following this decree, you ran after the man and yelled, "STOP YOU SON-OF-A-BISCUIT-EATER, RIGHT NOW!"

And surprisingly, he did. Although he had black pantyhose on his face, he turned around, and I could tell he stared you down. And lo and behold, he then started running toward you and yelling incoherently. You had paused at this point and remained in place. I could sense your fear, my brave Nerdman, but you held your ground, doing a few shadow kicks and punches to dissuade him as much as you could.

I couldn't believe the heroicness right in front of my eyes.

At this point, I stuffed my phone back into my purse and pulled the soft strap of your bag over my shoulder.

And finally, the moment I was waiting for: the conclusion. With him running toward you, I heard a slight squeal leave your throat; you maneuvered yourself to execute a roundhouse kick, which, if executed perfectly, would have kicked his head off completely. Trust me. I'm from Detroit and that's how it works.

As the moment of impact drew near, I hoped you would try to kick his head toward me. Then I could hold his ugly mug hostage and use it as an opener to ask for your number. So I watched with rapt attention, and trust me, I didn't blink once, but I did chew on my fake nails, chipping one in the process; damn Ling Ling—or Barbara as she referred to herself—for not putting that extra coat of gel on for me.

You then caused my mouth to water when you grabbed your impressive junk and screamed, "Suck on this, you criminal!" But, unfortunately, you miscalculated and your foot hit a parking meter, and he was able to beat the shit out of you since he had the upper hand on the first move. He literally KICKED YOUR ASS, took your wallet and for some reason, seemed to really enjoy removing your pants, only to run off, waving them in the air like a victory flag.

I wanted to move; I did, but I was embarrassed for you. I didn't want you to think I was staring at your pretty pecker, in all its uncut glory, escaping the trap door of your wet tighty-whities. So I stood back for a few moments until you cried and then passed out from the pain. That's when I ran to you, bruised, beaten and bloody, sprawled across the pavement by the curb.

I was the one who called 911 as I placed a tissue over your limp, but still impressive, noodle to save your virtue from the gathering onlookers. When the police and ambulance finally arrived, they pushed me away so they could take care of you—which is the reason I'm still in possession of your leather bag.

But, hey, I think it's cool that you at least tried to do something to help the old woman who ended up actually being a cross-dresser in his forties. And for that, you get a date with me. My name is Bella. I have a cat, I'm allergic to pollinated fruit, and I love roller derby. Let's get some sushi and talk about art … in its rawest form.

I hope to hear from you soon,

Bells

P.S. To make sure it's you, tell me where this went down and what special marking is on your messenger bag. Be specific or it's mine.

.

.

.

"Ho. Lee. Sheet." Laughing hard, Rose grabs her crotch, trying not to pee. "No fucking way."

"He was so sexy in a nerdish kind of way, his reddish-brown hair bouncing in the wind when he took off running. It was the hottest, most incredibly brave thing I've ever seen, Rose. I half expected to see a Superman emblem on his chest as he lay with his head hanging off the curb with his pocket protector all askew."

"Sounds more like Super-Dork, if you ask me." Rose rises from her stool and opens the fridge, pulling out two more beers for us.

"Stop. It was so adorable. I put his head in my lap and ran my fingers through his hair, and for a moment, while I was frantically calling 911 with the information about the attack, I pictured us together. Like you know … together." I motion with my finger sliding in and out of my fist.

"This heat has really gotten to you, my friend."

"Seriously, I need to at least find him, give him back his bag."

"Did you look inside?"

My face feels hot; heat running through my veins, head to toe, and I nod.

"Is there a name or information inside?"

I shake my head this time and take another couple of drinks of my beer to cool off. I don't want to tell Rose what I found, which was an iPad and a sketch pad with some drawings. Um, like some really good drawings. "No."

"Well, what did you find? Maybe a letterhead with his place of employment?"

"Uh-uh."

"What are you hiding, Bells? You have that guilty look on your face."

I reach inside the bag, which is still sitting in my lap, and pull out his sketch pad. Oh, fuck it. I open the cover for Rose to see what's inside. I've already seen every stinking hot-as-hell sketch in it, and then had to use my vibrator, Buzz, to relieve the pressure between my legs.

I watch as Rose skims through the pages with her chin dragging her chest. "I take that back. He's not a Super-Dork. He's a Super-Perv." She closes the sketch pad and shoves it back to me. "Just send the ad. You need to give this spank bank back to him."

.

.

.

Rose orders Chinese since it's too damn hot to cook. We both sit in front of the TV, sweating bullets, waiting for our Kung Pao Chicken, watching HBO. Woo Hoo to my Friday night. I'm only half watching the movie because I'm worried about my Nerdman.

My curiosity is killing me, so much so that I almost call all three local hospitals to see if I can get some information on him, but without my Super-Nerd's name, I figure it is fruitless. So, I keep checking my emails on my phone, hoping there is a response to the ad I placed hours ago. Much to my disappointment there's nada.

"Want another beer?" Rose asks.

"Sure."

But before she can get our Buds, there's a loud knock at our door.

"Chinese is here," she sing-songs. Shimmying her shoulders in a crazy little dance, she walks toward the door, opening it without looking through the peephole. "How much do I …"

I look up from my phone when her words stop abruptly.

"I'm here to fix you … I mean fix your air," the deep voice says from out in the hall. "I'm Emmett McCarty, building maintenance and fellow neighbor."

Rose actually stutters, which is a first. Normally she's on her game, but this dude must be smokin'. "Come…" she says, and then turns to me, hiding her face behind the door with wide eyes and a bright red face. I cover my mouth to stifle the laugh trying to make its way out.

The guy, still in the hall, clears his throat loudly. "I'd love to."

Her head whips back around to face the voice—Emmett. "I mean come in." She smiles. I know this because I can hear it in her voice, plus she's combing her fingers through her hair all seductively. Jeeze.

I must say, the rather tall, tanned, muscled guy who steps into our apartment is easy on the eyes, and he looks kind of familiar.

"This shouldn't take long. I would have been here earlier but my friend needed me. Long story," he explains.

"I'd love to hear that long story," Rose tells him.

Eyeroll from the peanut gallery.

"Oh, um, he broke his foot. I had to pick him up from the hospital and take him home."

"Aw, you're such a nice guy—and hot." Rose looks mortified at her lack of verbal filter.

Emmett chuckles—it's cute, in a husky-chipmunk sort of way—and walks past Rose to our A/C unit. "I'll just be a second." His eyes fall on the messenger bag hanging on the barstool, and I watch him. His gaze lingers as if he's planning a five-finger discount on it. He's got another thing coming if he thinks he's going to snatch that bag from me. "Nice bag."

"You into purses?" I ask, squinting my eyes at him. He notices me for the first time sitting on the couch and tips his chin up in greeting.

"Just admiring the bag is all." He looks at me suspiciously, and I mirror his expression. Purse snatchers must be at an all-time high here in the city.

"One of a kind."

"I'd say so. Where'd you get it?"

"Noneya." My eyes bore into him.

One corner of his mouth lifts with what I would normally consider a cute dimple, but not now. That dimple punctuates the mischievous look he's giving me. Rose is unaware of the exchange going on between me and the repair man, because she's too busy applying lipstick and fluffing her hair.

"Funny, but my friend lost his messenger bag today. One that looks very similar to that one." He points at it with a big beefy finger.

"You don't say?" My heart thumps wildly, wondering if this dude truly knows my Nerdman or if he's just yanking my chain.

"Mhmm." The toolbox he's gripping in his left hand taps at his thigh.

"What's his name?" I stand and walk very slowly toward the bag. My bag. My Nerdman's bag.

"Edward."

"Good one, you saw the E on the flap." My index finger runs along the smooth leather strap hooked on the barstool.

"I did. That's how I know it's his."

"Prove it."

"How the heck am I supposed to do that?"

"Call him," I challenge.

"He's on meds."

"Likely story." My voice is harsh, unbelieving that he knows the rightful owner of the bag.

Rose finally realizes there's a standoff in the kitchen between me—her best friend—and the guy I'm pretty sure she wants to shag. "What's going on?"

I point toward the handyman. "He thinks he knows who this belongs to." My eyes widen, hoping she catches the desperation in my voice.

"I know so," Emmett states, not backing down.

"Well, that's a good thing, right?" Rose asks, looking between me, Emmett and the bag.

"It is if he's not just trying to snatch the bag for himself. He was pretty interested in it the moment he saw it hanging here." I slide the strap off the barstool and secure it over my neck and shoulder, guarding it with my life. "His name is Emmett. He might want this bag for himself. Since it's practically personalized for him already."

Emmett shakes his head at my blatant mama bear reaction.

Rose steps between me and the big guy. "I have an idea." She looks at him and then continues. "You could bring your friend to The Cup of Joe to meet Bella. Neutral territory and all." Her head then swivels in my direction. "And I could accompany you, for safety purposes of course. Ya know?" She steps back and bats her eyelashes at Emmett. "And we can all have coffee together. Bella will know immediately if your friend is her Nerdman."

Laughter erupts from deep down in Emmett's gut. "Nerdman?"

We both nod.

"He's gonna love that one." He wipes the smile from his face, shooting Rose a wink. "Deal. We'll meet Sunday at noon." He reaches in his pocket and pulls out a piece of wadded up paper, then takes a pen from his shirt pocket, scribbling something. "Here's my number in case something comes up."

.

.

.

I only feel safe to replace the messenger bag on the barstool once Emmett leaves our apartment. This bag may, quite possibly, be the only link I have between me and my Nerdman. Excitement erupts in the form of squeals from my now jumping-up-and-down spastic body. I'm a total lunatic, I know, but I find it hard to care. "I might be close to meeting the man of my dreams."

Rose joins me in my jump of joy. "I know I've met the man of mine."

We plan our outfits for our Sunday meet-up because what-the-fuck-else is there to do on a Friday night when you don't have dates? When we are satisfied with our choices, Rose and I call it a night. After I hear her door close across the hall, I sneak back to the messenger bag and extract the sketch book. I might not have a date, but I sure as hell can have some fun again with Buzz.

.

.

.

"Hurry, we can't be late." I'm running around looking for my other sneaker, prodding Rose to finish with her makeup already.

"One more coat of mascara and …" She looks like a fish with her mouth open in an O as the mascara brush sweeps over her lashes.

After finding and slipping on my shoe, I grab my purse and the messenger bag and peek my head into Rose's bedroom. "I'll be in the car."

The coffee shop is only ten minutes away. I'm excited to think that could mean my Nerdman lives close by since Emmett had to pick him up. We find a parking spot on the street and make our way inside, luckily finding a booth although not wiped clean yet. Rose and I sit across from one another, instead of side by side, at her suggestion. Whatever.

Nervously, I wipe stray crumbs from the Formica into my hand and throw them on the floor under the table. "Do you think he'll remember me?"

Rose shrugs. We've been over this a million times since Friday, and she's reassured me that if it's really him, he'll be taken with me. I was his Nightingale after all.

I lean over the table, and whisper, "I hope so. I've been having explicit dreams about him."

"Don't think I don't know what you've been doing in your room, Bells. Buzz has been working overtime, huh?" She winks. "Sneaking the infamous sketch book for your viewing pleasure?"

I turn a pretty shade of tomato at her knowledge. It's not like she never masturbates. Rose's face lights up, and she gives a shy wave when the bell on the door to the coffee shop rings. It must be them. I squeeze my eyes shut momentarily to gain composure of my otherwise flaming body of mush.

Rose smiles and pats the seat next to her. "Hi."

"Hey, Rose, Bella," Emmett says. "This is Edward."

Slowly, my eyes open, and the most vibrant green eyes, framed by black-rimmed glasses, are staring at me. I feel the heat of their trail running up and down my body. I didn't notice how pretty and intense they are, considering he was passed out after the incident. And those sexy-as-fuck glasses are new, at least I've never seen them before. Tingles travel into my hairline from my neck. "It's you." Nerves in every part of my body are like livewires—exploding firecrackers, popping, igniting my senses, catching my needy body on fire. My heart is a bass drum, thumping wildly, banging about under my ribs.

"It's me." His smile is shy. His stylish hair is half-hidden underneath the gauze bandage wrapped around his head.

"Maybe if you would have been wearing those"—I point at his sexy Clark Kent glasses—"you wouldn't have gotten the shit kicked out of you." My eyes widen when I realize I said that out loud.

He flashes another soft smile, but this time embarrassment is also evident on his face. "Gee, thanks. Glad you noticed that part where I beat up the meter instead of the bad guy."

"Technicality," I mutter under my breath. "I mean, it was hot. I promise." He's nerdier now than when I last saw him all hunched over, leaning on a pair of crutches with a few reddened pavement scrapes on his cheek. I remember seeing those and lightly touching them while his head was propped in my lap.

"Here, sit down." I scoot over, giving him enough room to maneuver his leg and lay the crutches down beside him.

"Looks like I knew the owner of the bag after all," Emmett announces from across the table.

Insert eyeroll.

"I don't make it a habit to trust strange repairmen the moment they walk into my home."

"Strange? Me?" He rips open a packet of Sugar In The Raw and tips his head back, emptying the contents in his mouth.

I nod my head with my eyebrows raised. "Um, yeah."

Rose giggles at him, and I want to puke. Emmett would be cute if he weren't so irritating.

I turn my body toward Edward. He looks a bit uncomfortable in the booth, and I immediately want to soothe him. "Want a chai tea latte?"

"How'd you know I like those?"

Now it's my turn to be all shy and awkward. "I, um … well, you threw your drink at the ground, and it splashed up on my leg." I left out the part about me wiping my palm over the tea running down my calves and then putting my hand to my nose to smell his drink of choice. It's not that weird, is it?

"Okay, yeah, I could use a drink."

"Me too."

A throat clears from across the table, and I look at my friend. "Bells, we're"—she motions between her and Emmett—"gonna get out of here and go home, so Emmett can show me his new ... screwdriver."

Damn, she or he works fast, and so much for her protecting me from strangers.

"Okay." The word slowly leaves my lips. I'm comfortable knowing that Edward isn't going to kidnap me, considering his gimp leg and all, plus I can tell he's not that sort of guy.

"I'll meet you at home later?" She looks at me as she scoots out of the booth.

"Yeah, sure."

Emmett pipes up. "Give my boy a ride home?"

"Oh, yeah, of course."

I watch as my best friend walks out the door with what I'm assuming is her new man.

"So, this has been fun, so far." Edward taps his finger nervously on the tabletop, and I'm glad he's feeling the same way as I am.

"I'm happy it's really you who tried to save that cross-dresser."

"Cross-dresser?"

"Oh, you didn't know?"

He shakes his head. "When I came to in the ambulance, they congratulated me on trying to save the old lady."

I scrunch my face while I deliver the news. "She was actually a he."

Edward puts his face into his hands, and I touch his arm in hopes he will look at me. "It was incredibly hot, what you did."

"Really?" He lowers his hands from his face, looking at me.

Our eyes connect. His eyes are glassy and droopy but still somehow sexy, and I can't explain what it is or if he's on some really great drugs for pain, but I want to lean over and kiss him. However, I don't do that on the first date, if you can even call this one.

I put my hand on his chest. "I, um, I have something for you."

Edward closes his eyes, puckers and leans my way.

"No, I mean—" I clear my throat. "I have your messenger bag."

"Oh, shoot, I'm … I'm sorry. I shouldn't … shouldn't have assumed you wanted a … a kiss. Crap." The scratches on his face blend into the cherry-red of his embarrassment when he stutters.

"No, no, it's fine."

I don't know what comes over me, but I'm bold; I'm a woman on a mission. I channel Rose; I'm taking things into my own hands. I slide my fingers around Edward's neck, ignoring the grimace on his face as I do so, and pull us together. My lips are hungry; I lick them to ready us for our kiss, the first kiss with my Nerdman, and then …

"Can I take your order?" the waitress asks. She's standing at our table with a huge flowery name badge attached to her ample bosom, tapping her pencil on a pad of paper. Fuck you Alice for interrupting!

I don't release my grip on Edward's neck. "Two large chai tea lattes to go," I answer impatiently, annoyed at the petite pink-haired girl chomping on a piece of gum.

"Be right back." She smiles and then blows a huge bubble.

"Where were we?" I say. Edward's eyes are hooded and his smile is lazy, and I still wonder if it's his pain meds or if he's actually as turned on as I am.

"We … we were … here." His voice is low and husky, sexy. His arm snakes around my waist, pulling me to him. Our lips meet, and he's timid, but I'm not. I press my lips firmly to his, and his tongue tastes me as I taste him, then it's over as quickly as it started.

"That was nice."

"You're nice," he says. "Rose told Emmett you even placed a Craigslist ad to find me."

I shrug and mumble into his shirt, "Uh, yeah, I did. I knew it was a long shot, but I really wanted to find you ... Edward."

He sighs and squeezes me tight.

Alice, once again, interrupts us as she sets our drinks on the table.

Edward reaches into his wallet and pulls out a twenty with one hand while keeping the other firmly on my waist. "Keep the change." He hands me my drink. "Wanna get out of here?"

And I do. I want to get out of here and spend the rest of the day with him.

"Absolutely. Let's go." I lean in and kiss his smiling cheek.

"Bella, wait. Before we leave, can I have my messenger bag, please?"

I nod and pass it to him, only to watch him open it and bring out an iPad. I give him a questioning look as he turns it on and brings up a browser.

He then turns back to me. "I have a Craigslist ad to answer, remember?"

"Oh, yeah?

I help him find the ad and watch as his grin widens while he reads what I posted.

He turns the iPad toward me and taps the screen. "I need to answer where I was Friday around five o'clock. Or does it matter?" His fingers skim down the length of my arm and intertwine with mine.

"Not really."

He looks serious, pushing his glasses up his nose in a nerdish kind of a way. It's damn cute. "Well, that's good news, Bella, because just so you know, I love being your Nerdman."

"Good, then you can retire your roundhouse kicks, and be my own personal Superhero."

The End.

Nerdman's thoughts:

Now to pay Jasper. a.k.a. the cross-dresser. Damn, he did a good job—too good since he beat the pants off me—guess he took his first paid stunt job a little too seriously, maybe too many roids. But, oh well, no pain, no gain!

Mission accomplished!

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