Summary: Jacob, Bella, and a few moments they've shared.

Author's Note: The short bits are from a post coital talk, the longer bits are just random scenes from Jacob and Bella's life together. Plotless, basically. Unbeta-ed.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Getting By

Tangled under the sheets, skin on skin, hands wandering over flat plains that constrict under her touch, she whispers, "Once, Renee took us to this fancy hotel in New Mexico. I loved it. They had this huge, kidney bean shaped pool. And the towels were all shaped like animals. Elephants and crabs and swans. Mom ordered room service, and I felt like Eloise."

"Who's Eloise?"

She grins. "Just a girl." She stretches up, kisses the side of his jaw.

-

The shower head sputters pathetically for a moment, then stops with a weary groan from somewhere within the bowels of the small house. Water drips, but that's the extent of it. Bella hits the shower head, as if the hard tap will somehow magic it into working. It doesn't. She groans, a mixture of frustration and disbelief, hollers "Jacob!"

He's hovering in the bathroom's entrance within seconds, expression worried. "What's wrong?"

Bella motions half-heartedly behind her. "There's no water."

"Oh." Jacob's face crumbles, and something like shame and embarrassment flashes in his eyes. "Crap. I'm sorry, I thought I paid. I must have...not."

"Must have," Bella echoes, fingers tightening their hold on the towel wrapped around her thin body. "Jake, do you think...?"

"What?"

Bella sighs, gathers her clothes up and presses it close to her chest. "Can you drive me to Charlie's?"

He ducks his head, gives a rueful smile. "Sure, sure. I'll go warm up the Rabbit. Come out in a few minutes, okay?"

She watches his retreating back, muscles moving under a thin white t-shirt stained with grease. When she hears the front door fall shut, the noise reverberating throughout the empty house, she lets the towel drop. She quickly slips back into her clothes, enters their shared bedroom to pick out a clean outfit. Once she's packed all her necessities in a worn messenger's bag, she makes her way outside.

The cold is the first thing to reach Bella as she swings the front door open. The chill air nips at her skin, creeps up the sleeves of her sweater. She shivers against the sensation, locks the door and pauses to watch Jacob watching her from the safe confines of the idling car. Once situated inside, engine purring steadily beneath the hood, she adjusts the heat vents so their slated faces are aimed at her. She rubs her hands together, lets them hover over the warm rush of switches on the radio, fumbles through static and snatches of Christmas cheer before settling on an old Bowie song. He sings a few lines, fingers tapping out the beat on the steering wheel before glancing at Bella. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine, Jake," Bella murmurs, forehead pressed against the cool glass of the window to watch the blur of trees and shadows. "Just forget it."

They don't say much after that. A few light comments are made on what exactly Bowie is up to these days and how they both think it's too early for Christmas music. When Jacob asks if Bella would like to pick a station she merely shrugs, turns back to look out the car window. It's not even a real answer, and a spike of irritation assaults Jacob as he rummages around the space between their seats for a beat-up cassette. The tape's got a faded giraffe sticker on it, and was a gift to Bella during her first year of college. Some kid in her English composition class gave it to her, a thank you for helping revise the last major essay of the semester. Jacob slips it into the deck. There's a hiss, and then the soft strain of music.

In her seat, Bella turns. Back resting against the door, she draws her legs up and wraps her arms around them. "I like this song." She smiles, and Jacob returns the gesture.

By the time they arrive at Charlie's the temperature has dropped a few more degrees, the black of night has wrapped itself tightly around the small town. The make quick work getting out of the car, stomping up the walkway laughing and clinging to one another. Bella uses the spare key, vaguely notes the empty space in the driveway where the cruiser usually resides. They shut the door behind him, breath coming out in quick, short gasps.

Bathed in dim light, chests still rising and falling unsteadily, Bella takes a step forward. She stands on tiptoes, kisses Jacob's massive shoulder through layers of shirt and jacket. He stills, head angled down to look at her. He wants to kiss her, back her up against the wall, and never let their bodies part. But, Bella steps back, gives a quick grin.

"I'll be in the shower," she says, pauses to wave in the general direction of the living room. "Make yourself at home."

"Okay," Jacob croaks, limbs and fingers and heart still tingling with the need to kiss her. He watches her go, then settles down in front of the television. Upstairs, Bella strips of her clothes and steps under a warm spray of water. She sighs as it runs the length of her body.

When Bella pulls the curtain back, nearly half an hour later, she has to stop herself from giggling out loud. Instead, she manages a ridiculously large smile as she untangles the limbs of her elephant shaped towel.

--

"Did you know, Renee was engaged once? Before Phil, I mean."

"Really?" Jacob's fingers dance over her stomach, her side, dig into the curve of her spine.

"Hm." Bella lets out a shaky exhale, presses herself firmly against Jacob. ""When I was nine. He was my teacher, Mr. Goldberg. I wanted him to be my new dad. He used to read me books. He'd do all these funny voices. I thought it was the coolest thing. And marrying mom meant that he'd always be around to read to me, and that's be, you know, really...awesome" she finishes lamely.

Jacob chuckles, nuzzles the soft flesh just bellow her ear. "Sound's awesome to me."

-

Bella's stomach hurts from too much laughter. She bites her lip to keep in a stray giggle, watches as Jacob frowns down at the messy pile of books spread across the bed before them. She's lying on her stomach, Jacob cross-legged beside her. His large hand dances over the covers, flipping them back to examine the pages inside. He settles on a black paperback, POE the most dominant detail on the cover.

"Oh, no," Bella moans, burying her face into a lumpy pillow that smells of Jacob. "You can't make fun of Poe. He's much too serious."

"Yeah? I like a challenge."

"I know," Bella breathes, throwing a soft smile his way. Jacob leans down, gives her a brief kiss.

"Alright." Jacob skims the table of content. "Short story or poetry?"

"Poetry."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"Because once I start there's no going back."

Bella rolls her eyes, nudges his leg with her shoulder. "I'm positive."

"Okay."

Bella recognizes it instantly, despite Jacob's faux British accent. It's funny at first, makes her chuckle as he stumbles and somehow slips into a southern drawl. Halfway though all fake accents have fallen away. Jacob's voice, the tone of it, is all Bella can concentrate on. It's far too serious and sad, and her hand slips over his jean clad thigh.

"But our love it was stronger by far than the love / Of those who were older than we / Of many far wiser—" He stops reading, lets the book fall back on the misshapen pile. His hand finds Bella, fingers curling and twining.

"That's wasn't funny at all."

Jacob shakes his head, turns his solemn gaze to her. "No. No it's wasn't."

She sighs, "Oh, Jake" as her arms slip around his neck, pull him closer.

--

"What was the first?"

Jacob grins, hand cupping the back of Bella's neck. " 'You Are my Sunshine.' " His fingers moves against the pale stretch of skin, as though playing the shiny keys of a piano. "Actually, it was the first and only song I ever learned to play. I couldn't keep still, and soon my mom just gave up."

Bella giggles as Jacob's head dips, lips pressed to her neck. He hums the tune, the sound reverberating on her flesh. She shivers under the touch, wraps herself around him.

-

Bella hates fighting with Jacob, but sometimes he's just so pigheaded that she has no choice. It's partly her fault, for not being secure with herself. And, okay, it's mostly her fault. But did he really have to smile at the girl that way?

They haven't spoken for a week, and she hates that. She misses talking to him, hearing his voice, knowing he's there even if she can't see him. She wishes she were home, instead of her old bedroom at Charlie's. She wishes she was in their room, listening to the sounds of him puttering around the kitchen. She can picture it clearly: blankets over her shoulder, tucked beneath her chin; the small radio on the kitchen counter coming on too loud, Jacob's breathed curse as he lowers the volume; the smell of coffee and eggs wafting into the bedroom to wrap around her and draw her out like the piper's song.

The phone is in her hands, number punched in, before she realizes it. She considers hanging up, but four rings in she still hasn't managed to do so. What will she say? Sorry doesn't seem like nearly enough.

"Hi," her own voice greets, happy. "You've reached Jacob and Bella. We're not able to get to the phone, but leave a message and we'll get back to you as soon as we can. Thanks!"

There's a soft hiss, then a low beep signaling the okay for her to leave a voicemail. Bella doesn't say a word, chest throbbing painfully. Then, she's crying. Blubbering into the receiver, she says "Jake, I miss you and I want—"

Another beep cuts her off, and she hangs the phone back on it's hook, dejected. She can't seem to do anything right, and she's not even sure he'll check the messages. That has always been her job. She sits at the table, copies them all down on brightly colored sticky notes, and dishes them out accordingly. Sometimes, she has to make the walk over to Embry's house to deliver a short message from a girl he met at a club. He always does that, but Bella supposes it's a simple mistake. Their numbers are the same, save for the last two numbers. 23 and 32. Easy to get mixed up.

With a sigh, and newfound courage, Bella picks the phone back up. She's careful to punch in the last two numbers. First a two, and then a three. Her voice is choked with tears as she whispers "You are my sunshine. My only sunshine. You make me happy when sky's are gray. You'll never know dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away."

Hours later, Bella wakes to the gray light filtering in though the bedroom window. Her heart is heavy, body tired. She spent an hour seated in front of the phone, hoping with everything in her that Jacob would call back. He didn't, and she'd retreated upstairs to sleep away the ache inside her.

Rolling onto her opposite side, she sucks in a sharp breath. Jacob. He's curled along the edge of her mattress, asleep. Bella blinks, stretched out a hand to trace the shell of his ear. Her fingers trial down, skimming the line of his jaw, the column of his neck. He swallows thickly under her touch, brown eyes meeting hers.

"Hey," he greets, voice hushed.

"Hi."

"You left me a message."

"Yeah."

Jacob sighs, closing the space between them. "Bella." The warm pads of his fingers brush away her tears.

"I'm sorry. I just…I get scared, Jake. I keep thinking you're going to leave and I get so—"

"How many time do I have to tell you that I'm not going anywhere? I'll never leave you, Bella. Ever."

"You don't know that. You could still impr—"

"No. Bella there's no room in me for anyone else. Just you. Only you. I wish you could see that. Because you're it for me. You're all I've ever wanted, all I will ever want. And I hope…I hope you—"

"I do," Bella rushes to interrupt. She brings Jacob's hand up to her mouth, gently kisses his knuckles. "You're it Jacob Black."

"Oh, yeah?" He grins, ducking forward.

"Yeah." Then she kisses him.