Quil & Claire.

Claire Young.

Mother Nature was intent on destroying the one thing that might have uplifted my mood—the sun. What was supposed to be a sunny day in La Push had turned into a storm akin to a category five hurricane. But when life offers you something so unrealistically unbelievable, it's not acceptable to grieve when it comes to an end. I grudgingly put on my raincoat and trudged through the downpour to my car. For my seventeenth birthday I'd received a '97 Toyota Corolla. It was a dark metallic black and was upgraded with the most high tech sound system. The car itself had been a gift from my Dad but the newer additions had been a combination of my uncle-figure, Jacob Black and my best friend, Quil Ateara.

I dug through my pockets until I got a grip on my keys and hurried to get inside of the warm cab. I got undercover just in time for the monsoon to begin. This wasn't typical Washington rain, this rain seemed more forceful. I ignored that fact and started up the engine. It took a couple of tries but soon enough I was on the road. The rain was coming down even harder now and despite my windshield wipers going at full speed, I still couldn't see more than three feet in front of me. I pulled over to the right shoulder and put my car in park. I'd have to at least call him before I just showed up looking like a drowned rat.

My fingers swept familiarly over the set of numbers I'd memorized over the years. When he picked up on the third ring his voice was thick with "I just woke up" bile. "Hello?"

"Quil." I sighed, content that he wasn't out on patrol or working in the shop with Jake.

"Claire," he replied, sounding surprised but relieved. I closed my eyes and forgot everything that was around me. I didn't hear the raindrops bombs hitting on the hood of my car; I didn't feel the chill that swept through the air when the heater gave up; I heard only his voice, the sound of husky satin and was instantly at piece.

Quil waited for me to speak. "Can I come over?" I asked when I could think coherently.

"Sure!" He was excited. "Now? You want me to come pick you up?"

"No," I answered quickly. "I'm almost there now--"

"Baby, you shouldn't be driving in this weather. Really, I'll be right there, two minutes tops— "

"Don't worry about me," I contradicted my thoughts. It felt good when he worried; it made me feel worth something. "See you soon." I snapped the phone shut before he could counter.

I smiled, despite myself, as I opened up the driver's side car mirror, immediately I wishing I hadn't. I'd been closer than I realized when I said I looked like a drowned rat. My hair—dry, straight, and almost perfect pre-rain—was now dripping wet. It had curled back into its natural waves which were hanging loosely around my face. Fortunately, my makeup hadn't smudged at all really, but that didn't keep me from continuing my self-critique. My lips had always been too full for my personal taste, the bottom lip larger than most other normal people and the top only slightly smaller than its partner. I only had one dimple when I smiled which felt odd, out of place. My tawny cheeks always held a slight ruby—all too often mistaken for a blush—to them. I had soft speckles of light freckles between my eyes and my blossom cheeks. But I had to admit, I really loved my eyes. It wasn't normal for a Quileute to have any color to her eyes other than chocolate. I was different. My eyes held a soft turquoise shade with a tiny ring of blue opal before hitting the pupil. Thankfully no one ever called me out, neither to compliment nor insult my genetic gift. Except one person... thinking of him made me shut the mirror and get back on the road.

Quil was waiting for me on the porch when I arrived, a huge grin plastered across his face. He ran out to the car and opened the door for me. Without waiting for my permission (not that I would have objected) he swept me off my feet all too literally and ran into the house. He kicked the door shut with his foot and carried me into the living room.

Quil started to put me down but I protested, "Wait."

A spark of curiosity ran through his dark brown eyes. "Why?"

I smiled and tightened my grip around his neck, pulling me closer to his face. Much closer. Dangerously close. My face was less than an inch from his, "I like it here."

He grinned back. "Do you?" His warm breath hit me with amazing force. It was thick, rich with a husk I didn't quite recognize.

It took me a moment to remember how to answer and even still, "Mmm," was all I could come up with.

"How about you stay right here then?" His lips were so close to mine, I could feel them.

My eye lids started to flutter open and closed. I felt him smile as he brushed his rough, warm lips against my cold ones. He moved his mouth down to my jaw and across to the spot right below my ear lobe. "You smell…" he began in a whisper before moving his lips up and down my neck for a moment. "…delicious."

I felt my arms go limp around his neck as he moved his lips up and down my throat in a sensual pattern of kisses, nibbles, and probes with his tongue. Kiss, nibble, lick. Kiss, nible, lick. He worked like a careful master, forbidden from practicing his skills until now.

"Quil," I heard someone whisper. Was it me? I wasn't sure…

He laughed deeply before sighing and laying me down on the tattered couch. His eyes re-connected with mine for a brief moment before he sat up by my feet.

"This storm is supposed to be the worst in years, maybe a hundred years," he said lightly.

"Oh?" I added, indifferent. I didn't really want to talk; it seemed like such a waste when he could be doing such more amazing things with those lips…

"Mmhm," he replied, still looking away. He cocked his head a little to the side. "Funny though isn't it?"

I mirrored his action but still watched his expression carefully. "Funny?"

"Just ironic I mean. The worst storm in history—one of hurricane or tropical storm proportions—and you come here, as though this was the safest place for you."

I felt my eyebrows tighten together. "But isn't this the safest place for me? I've got you here, the protector against all horrors, mythical and otherwise." I was trying to lighten the mood, I hated it when he got all, 'I'm not safe for you,' and 'I could hurt you' mood. Yada, yada, bullshit.

He smiled but it didn't touch his eyes. They still held a small bit of agony. "Silly girl." He leaned back into the couch then, flicking on the tv with the remote in his right hand. I turned my body around so my head was resting on thigh. He wrapped his left arm around my shoulder, his hand beginning to softly stroke my arm. I fell asleep to the soft sound of an ESPN commentator's voice and a deep sound that could have been mistaken for a lullaby.

"Claire? Claire-bear? Come on sweetie, you shouldn't sleep in those clothes." Quil? What? If I was asleep then why was Quil still here? He usually left after I conked out…

I heard a husky sigh and felt two warm boulders crushing me against something larger and equally, (if not more) warm.

And then it was cold again.

Quil laughed quietly. "You know, if you want, I could just change you, I'm not too opposed to the idea…" I felt his burning hands at the edge of my shirt, teasing the skin there. I sat up instantly, blushing furiously, and glared at him with as much force as I could in my exhausted state. I started to get up but realized I wasn't in my room. I was in Quil's bedroom. I could tell because I'd been here before. I recognized the huge king-sized bed, the black and green comforter…

"Quil, why am I still here?" I asked.

He looked up at me with an incredulous expression. "Because it's storming silly. All hells broke loose outside. I'm surprised it didn't wake you up."

I turned my head to peer out the window; despite the pitch black outside, I could make out what looked like a broken tree branch resting against the outside of the window. All hells broke loose outside, he seemed to be putting it mildly…

"Anyway," he continued without being prompted. "Your dad called to see if you were here. When I told him you were, he asked if I didn't mind letting you have a little sleepover." His grin got wider. He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

If I wasn't so exhausted, my reply would have been witty, suggestive or maybe just sarcastic. Instead I ignored him and asked for a t-shirt. Quil threw me one of his oversized ones (oversized to me anyway) and turned back to me, perplexed. "Do you, uh," he was obviously uncomfortable, "want some gym shorts or something?"

I'd woken up enough to think almost clearly. "Where are you sleeping tonight, Quil?"

"In the bed…" it sounded like a question.

"With me."

"So…" he still wasn't connecting the dots.

"So would you like me to sweat to death or do'ya mind me sticking around for a while?"

"Oh…Oh." The naughty grin was back.

I rolled my eyes. "Now turn around so I can change," I ordered, finally grabbing the shirt and getting out of the bed.

"Yes ma'am," he saluted and did as I asked.

I wasn't sure if it was because I was physically tired, or if I just wanted to torture Quil a bit, but I took a while getting dressed. I took off my shoes first, followed by my socks, letting each fall to the floor with a soft 'plop.' The jeans came next. They were almost dry but not enough to be totally comfortable for sleep. I let them fall so the button hit the ground with a soft 'plink.' I reached around my waist to lift my t-shirt over my head. That hit the ground without a sound, to my ears at least. I saw Quil's frame stiffen and wondered if he were counting 'plops' and 'plinks.'

It wasn't awkward being practically naked with Quil in the room. He had been my best friend for as long as I could remember. It was only until now that we'd become more, or at least, he'd become more to me.

I debated for a second whether or not to mess with him some more. I felt an evil grin slide across my face. If its torture he wants, its torture he gets. I reached around my back to undo the back clasp of my bra, it came open with a soft 'snap.' I was sure it hit the ground just as silently as the shirt did but when I looked up, Quil was shaking. I grinned again before finally putting on Quil's shirt. I couldn't help myself as I breathed in its woodsy scent. His clothes were never as good as the real thing, but they were helpful substitutes when I needed them.

I looked over in the mirror for a moment and fought to stifle a giggle. I'd been used to Quil's heat all afternoon and the absence of that heat had made me look even more…developed. I sat down on one side of the bed and leaned against the pillows.

"You can turn around now," I told him, crossing my legs against each other in the process.

He wasn't shaking anymore but there was still an intensity about him I didn't recognize. Only his cool and self-assured smile let me know it was truly my Quil. "My shirt looks good on you," he eyed me appreciatively.

"Really?" I feigned indifference as I pulled at the tattered ends of the shirt. "I don't know…it's not really my style."

He slowly started making his way over to the opposite side of the bed but didn't reply. "I was thinking about just taking it off, but I'm scared I'll get too cold," I stared down at the corner of the room, lips in a full pout.

Quil's warm hands pulled my gaze back to his. His eyes were smoldering. He smiled widely. "You, Claire Eileen Young are going to be the death of me."

End.

A/N:

I'm not quite sure what to do about this story. I believe it could develop into a steamy something. The plot would be fairly obvious if you paid attention—Claire has to stay with Quil for a (if not a few) night(s) because the storm is so dangerous. Hormones & temptation ensue.

Anyway, if I have, oh let's say 15 reviews telling me to continue I'll at least add on another more… 'eventful' chapter.

Finally, I think you should review. You've come this far, why not write in that you loved, hated, or was bored with the story? Every writer knows reviews and critiques are inspiration for more writing. Also, it's quite a courtesy. Someone has taken their time and written something that entertained you, even if it was only for ten minutes.

Thanks for reading. I hoped you enjoyed it.

Yours,

SecretlySpellman