A/N: I have been very busy with exams, but they are now over. Hurrah!

I just wanted to warn everyone that you may get a lot of alerts in the next couple of days. FF has deleted all the dividers, so I will have to re-upload the previous chapters.

I didn't realise until this chapter was almost finished, but an extraordinarily high amount of the dialogue revolves around food; even more so than usually. Make of that what you will.

X(.)Brandon(.)Hawkex was kind enough to pre-read this. The debate about the evils of plastic garden chairs is ongoing.

xxx

Chapter 12. Texas Chainsaw Poultry and Alfonso

On Friday afternoon, Edward was cooking. This was an alarming new development in light of the fact that if he became any more domestic he'd soon be wearing florals and balancing an infant on each hip.

It was probably high time he got himself a hobby. A butch hobby, such as learning how to take down assassins with the aid of a Bic pen.

When the door bell rang, Edward did not yet realise that his plans for the evening were about to get high-jacked in a not-so-manly way.

"We brought Will Ferrell!" Emmett exclaimed holding up a DVD case.

"And popcorn," Bella chimed in.

Edward frowned as he watched the two of them barge their way into his home. "Did I miss something?"

"We should have called," Bella admitted.

"But that would have included asking permission, which…meh," Emmett shrugged his shoulders. "Anyway, we knew you weren't going to say no to Maggie Gyllenhaal – sexy." He turned to Bella, "I'll put the DVD in; you do the popcorn."

"On it," Bella nodded. She walked into the kitchen and pushed a bag of popcorn into the microwave.

"What is the world coming to?" Edward mused. "Girl scouts sell pre-packaged cookies, popcorn comes out of the microwave…"

Bella shrugged, "At least we didn't buy it ready-made in a plastic bucket." She sniffed, "I smell chicken."

Edward nodded, "You interrupted me; I'm practising for Thanksgiving."

"Wrong bird."

He rolled his eyes, "I'm not going to waste an entire turkey in preparation for mine and Carlisle's first Thanksgiving alone. I've decided that there's no way I'm roasting anything. It's the frying pan or sandwiches."

She frowned at him, "I thought you were going to see your family in Alaska…"

Edward nodded. "We were, but then my uncle decided that he wanted to see his family so they're going to Anchorage."

"You weren't invited?"

"We were but…Carlisle doesn't like being around Riley's family…his mother in particular…"

Bella tilted her head. "I feel that there's a story there…"

Edward grinned, "He set her on fire."

"What?" Bella exclaimed.

"It was an accident and she was fine," he explained hurriedly, "but she learnt her lesson; hasn't worn obnoxiously lurid, man-made fibres since."

Bella sniffed again, "Speaking of flammable items…something's burning…" She opened the microwave, "…and it's not the popcorn."

"Shit," Edward winced and checked on his pan.

He huffed. "This is serious."

"How serious?"

He turned to Bella, unsure of what to say. "Umm…"

She took pity on him, "Okay, on a scale of 1 to 10, how serious is it? 1 being the state of my nail beds, and 10…intergalactic warfare."

Edward silently uncovered the frying pan. Bella inspected its contents for a few seconds and then nodded. Edward returned the lid to the pan, the movement solemn and deliberate, akin to closing a casket.

"It looks dead," Bella assessed.

Edward attempted to defend himself. "It's chicken. It's supposed to be dead before you eat it."

"I know, but that doesn't just look the normal level of 'poor-little-slaughtered-animal' dead; that's Texas Chainsaw Massacre dead."

"I'll Texas Chainsaw Massacre you, if you're not careful," he muttered.

Bella frowned. "You're scary when you're stressed."

Edward shrugged, "Eh, it was an empty threat."

Emmett had taken off his shoes and slid into the kitchen in his socks. "What's taking so long?"

Bella looked as sombre as Edward felt as she lifted the lid for a second time.

"Woah!" Emmett recoiled, "Someone really doesn't like chicken."

Once again Edward got defensive. "It's still good, we'll just scrape off the burnt bits and add some cheese and it'll be fine."

"Maybe we could give it to a homeless shelter," Emmett suggested.

"Or a prison," Bella commented.

"Hey!" Edward interrupted, "it's f-"

"Denial," Bella cut in, "– it's not just a river in Egypt, Edward. It's not."

Edward conceded the point and sorrowfully scraped what used to be a promising looking supper into the trash.

"Anyway," Emmett continued, "why were you making…that?"

Edward sighed. "I was practising for Thanksgiving. I figured if I could make chicken, I could make some sort of turkey dish."

"What are you talking about?" Emmett asked.

"Poultry – do keep up," Edward said impatiently.

"No, I mean why are you planning on making turkey? You're coming to ours."

Edward was taken aback. "Really?"

Emmett shrugged, "Yeah, everyone always does. I think it's because my Ma's the only person out of everyone we know who can cook."

"Hey!" Bella protested, "I can cook. I'm making lunch tomorrow for when Edward and his dad are coming over."

"What are you making?" Edward asked.

"Wild salmon on caramelised apples."

"Is that even a thing?"

Bella looked up at him curiously. "A thing?"

"Yeah, I mean, I know you can get these strange flavours like…sea salt in cookies, or bacon and brown sugar or…or…"

"…mustard," Bella finished decisively.

xxx

Lunch at the Swans' had been going well.

The main course had been delicious; however Edward still wasn't sure why Bella had insisted on making such unnecessarily fancy food. The only explanation he could think of was that she was trying to impress Carlisle and his boyish dimples.

Quelle surprise.

Even conversation was not as forced as it might have been once Carlisle and Charlie discovered their shared love of Doctor Who.

Everything was going well until dessert was unveiled. To Bella's and Charlie's evident discomfort Esme had insisted on contributing the pudding.

The conversation Edward had overheard in the kitchen while helping Bella plate the fish hadn't been particularly encouraging.

"What's with you making dessert?" Charlie asked Esme grinning.

She scowled at him. "I make…food. I made you those PB&J sandwiches that one time."

"Yeah, what was up with those?"

"You didn't like them?"

"They tasted a little funky."

Esme put a hand on her hip, "That cuts deep, Charlie. Those were organic peanut butter, Italian fig jam, whole-wheat sandwiches."

"That's exactly my point. Not really…man food."

"Bella, say something," Esme pleaded.

Bella sighed, "I don't know what to say – I have a theory."

"Which is?"

When Bella didn't respond Charlie took it upon himself to answer for her, "She thinks you're trying to impress Doc Hollywood."

Edward leaned in towards Bella slightly. "Doc Hollywood?" he asked.

Bella grimaced. "Well you did say he comes from California; and he has fantastically white teeth."

"Umm," Carlisle eyed his dessert-bowl with apprehension, "did you drop it, Esme?"

Bella jumped to her aunt's rescue, "It's Eton Mess; it's supposed to look like that."

"Oh," Carlisle tasted a spoonful, "it's good." He smiled at the toffee-haired woman next to him.

Bella winced and twirled her spoon around a few times. Edward could hear her mutter something that sounded suspiciously like "not a good idea to let her near egg whites".

Dessert stretched well into the afternoon, and before Edward was even really aware of it the supposed adults had declared it late enough to open a bottle of wine. After that it was anybody's guess how the rest of the evening would turn out.

Esme was regaling Carlisle with stories of an overprotective teenage Charlie. "…So this boy has the audacity to ask me to the Middle School dance and Charlie pulls him aside and tells him that if he makes a move the next time he'll see his ribs will be as kebab sticks for his internal organs."

Charlie grimaced. "Yeah, I was a weird kid. I think it's because I was working with a very early prototype of sarcasm back then and I wasn't all that subtle about it."

"Or maybe it was the 'roids talking," Bella jested. She had been drinking copious amounts of coffee to wash down the Count Chocula she'd started eating out of the box a mere half hour after dessert was finished.

Clearly the combination of caffeine and refined sugar was having disastrous effects on her verbal filter.

Charlie shook his head.

Bella frowned into the silence. "Tough crowd."

"Maybe that's officially enough coffee for one day," Charlie advised his daughter.

She looked appalled, "It's not officially enough coffee until your hand is shaking like a turkey come Veterans Day."

Charlie nodded his approval. "Nicely played; argumentative, good imagery, seasonal and finished off with a hint of exaggeration. Couldn't have done it better myself."

Bella grinned. "I learned from the best."

Not long after that a second bottle of wine was opened. Bella shot Edward an exasperated look from across the table. "Wanna go to the movies?"

He nodded. "Please."

xxx

A couple of weeks later Edward was finally able to start driving to school again. Oliver had been restored to all his former, rusty glory; and just in time, too. The weather had gotten steadily colder. For the past week the daily trips to school had been accompanied by temperatures only a few degrees above freezing. The previous weekend there had been a light covering of frost in the garden.

None of this bothered Edward. He was used to a much colder climate. In fact, he couldn't help but feel a little smug when he saw Emmett shivering before they climbed into the truck.

Not that he would call Emmett on it. He had helped Edward install a new stereo in the truck so they wouldn't be stuck listening to the local country station anymore.

Also, he was scarily strong.

Edward pulled into the space next to Bella's car in the student parking lot. When she saw them she waved and hopped out of her seat. When Edward saw what she was wearing he let his head drop forwards onto the steering wheel. Emmett began to laugh when he realised what was going on.

"What is it?" Bella asked self-consciously.

Emmett answered as he got out of the truck, "You guys match." He pointed to their identical navy duffle coats. "Alice is going to have a field day with this," he said before walking off towards the main building for his first class.

Edward climbed out of the truck. He shook his head as he stood next to Bella.

She sighed. "Come on; let's get to English while we stew in the putrid swamp of our shame."

He wrinkled his nose. "That was unnecessarily graphic."

"Just expressive. Anyway, swamps of shame probably smell better than this."

"What?"

"This," Bella articulated as she swept her hand towards the English building. "High School - sweaty locker rooms and the complex top notes of angst and sarcasm."

Once they had taken their seats, and the class had settled down from the excitement that the impending Thanksgiving break caused, Mr Masen began his lesson. "So what did everyone think of Auden's 'Their Lonely Betters'?"

Lauren raised her hand. "Isn't it about how…birds are stupid?"

Mr Masen's nose twitched. "Well, they're certainly 'dumb', as they cannot talk. Is that what you meant?"

"Sure."

"Ok, well that's a valid point, though perhaps a little…simplistic. Does anyone else have an opinion?"

Every student in the room was attempting to perfect the 'If-I-just-look-down-at-my-desk-and-can't-see-the-teacher-maybe-he-can't-see-me' manoeuvre.

"Bella," Mr Masen decided to everyone's intense relief, except for Bella's. "You talk a lot, let's hear your opinion."

She shifted in her seat. "I'm not really a fan of Auden."

"Oh?" Mr Masen raised a questioning brow. "Any particular reason?"

"Well, I know that you're not supposed to expect a poem to reflect the sincere views of the author, but he just seems…fickle."

"Fickle?"

"Yes, I mean, this is the guy who wrote 'We must love one another or die', then changed it to 'We must love one another and die', and then dropped the whole thing altogether. Clearly, the guy's nothing if not consistent."

"Well, he did restore the poem in later editions of his works, because of its popularity."

"I don't know whether that makes it better or worse."

"So people aren't allowed to change their minds?" Mr Masen asked, with what seemed like genuine curiosity.

"I'm just saying that if you're going to make a grandiose statement like that, you should probably stick to it."

"And sacrifice his art in favour of being loyal to a maxim he may or may not believe in anymore?"

"I agree with Bella;" Edward stepped in, "I think if you're going to go down the sweeping statement route you have to do it the Marlowe way and hew them down with a heroic couplet. That guy meant what he said."

"I want to live my life in heroic couplets," Alice piped up.

"I want to live my life in dactylic dimeter," Mr Masen replied.

xxx

Howard had said grace around the McCarty's dining table.

It wasn't just a dining table, really. It was a dining table joined to three of its mismatched, ugly children.

Containing the McCarties, Swans, Cullens, Alice and her mother, and Rosalie, the small dining room was filled well beyond capacity.

Edward was stuck on a wonky, plastic garden chair. Plastic garden chairs hated Edward; they usually hit him with the twin evils of pain and humiliation.

He was about to help himself to some sweet potatoes when Charlie cautioned him. "Not sure if you want to do that, son; Esme prepared those."

Esme scowled at her brother-in-law. "They're fine, or at least…they will be once you remind yourself that they're not the worst thing you've ever eaten."

Edward nodded. "It's cool; I ate a worm once."

Bella snorted. "Please, one? That's so amateur. I grew up with Emmett; worms were one of our main sources of protein as kids."

"Oh yeah," Alice said, "I remember he used to make us eat mud pies, too. He was really dedicated to the cause."

"Emmett!" Bernadette scolded her son.

"Thanks a lot, Judas," he said around a mouthful of turkey, glaring at Alice. His eyes soon began to glint conspicuously. His look was eerily similar to the one he usually got just before proceeding to scoff an entire packet of Cheerios in one sitting.

Edward feared for the pecan pie.

Emmett stood up from his chair and began to speak, "Now, I don't want to keep anyone from the food for longer than necessary, in fact, we all know that my face is where turkey comes to die; I just wanted to officially welcome the two new faces to our Thanksgiving table," he nodded towards Carlisle and Edward, "utilising the immortal words of Shakespeare."

Emmett cleared his voice. "This day is called the feast of Thanksgiving," he waved towards the laden table. "He that outlives this day, and comes safe home will stand a tip-toe when this day is named, and rouse him at the name of Thanksgiving."

He patted his chest, "He that shall live this day, and see old age, will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours and say 'Tomorrow is Thanksgiving.'

"Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars," Emmett pointed to his gravy-stained arm, "and say 'These wounds I had on Thanksgiving Day'. Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot, but he'll remember, with advantages, what feats he did that day." He brandished an arm towards the turkey.

Silence permeated the McCarties' dining room for a moment. Edward began to clap hesitantly and was soon joined by the others. Carlisle even managed a cheerful "Bravo!", while Alice turned to Bella with a confused look. "Emmett reads?"

Edward scratched his head and frowned, "Look, I don't want to throw accusations around, but I think someone spiked the cranberry sauce."

xxx

Edward's limbs were intensely valued by their owner and he therefore usually avoided the Black Friday sales.

He broke that tradition, or rather survival technique, this particular year.

Laden with Edward's two new purchases, Oliver puttered around Ashland late that night before pulling up to the curb a few dozen yards from Bella's house.

Most of the lights were still on, but the hour was becoming acutely unsocial, so Edward shrewdly decided not to alert the Chief to his presence. He walked around the side of the house until he could see Bella moving around in her room. Before the situation could get any creepier he knocked on the window.

Bella didn't seem surprised to find someone outside her window at first, but was taken aback to see Edward standing there.

"Hey," she greeted, leaning out of her window, "what are you doing here?"

"The corner of Gresham and Beach looks pretty pathetic." He shrugged, "November is one of the best months to plant those Camellias I just happen to have in the back of the truck."

Bella grinned widely. "Step inside while I find my jacket and a gold star for you."

Edward stepped up onto a conveniently placed terracotta pot and lifted himself onto the windowsill, then swung his legs into her room.

Almost immediately he spotted a mat and sleeping bag spread across the floor. "Umm…am I interrupting a sleepover?"

"What? Oh…" Bella glanced at the sleeping bag anxiously and bit her lip. "If I told you that that's for my imaginary friend Alfonso, would you believe me?"

"Probably not," Edward replied.

"Okay, if I asked you to just forget about it, would you?"

Edward thought about it briefly and nodded. "That seems fair seeing as it's probably none of my business anyway…"

Bella smiled.

"Do you still want to go out?"

She nodded, "Yeah, let me just grab my wellies."

While Bella was rooting around in her closet Edward wandered around her room. He couldn't help but smile at a small photograph of two very young versions of Bella and Jacob. They seemed to be about four and had evidently just consumed vast quantities of candy; they were covered in molten chocolate.

He could see movement by the window in his peripheral vision and before he knew it Jasper Whitlock was clambering inside, chin first.

Literally.

Edward had never noticed before, but the guy had an unnervingly strong jawline.

Edward's overactive imagination quickly assembled a list of likely scenarios which could have led to this situation.

1) He's a serial killer and he's coming for Bella.

2) He's a serial killer and he's coming for me.

He discarded those thoughts as they were unkind. And Jasper had come empty handed…although murder weapons were probably not hard to come by in a girl's bedroom.

3) Burglary.

Jasper was wearing neither a balaclava not head-to-toe black, thereby not conforming to Edward's burglar stereotypes.

4) Sleeping bag…

This thought was so unexpected that Edward quickly replaced it with a much more comfortable and less complex idea.

5) He's a vampire.

Edward realised that he had been having a stare-off with a pair of frozen blue eyes and that Bella was still unaware of Jasper's arrival.

"Umm, Bella?"

"Yep?" She turned around and saw Jasper standing sheepishly by her window, but before she could say anything there was a knock on her bedroom door. "Bells?"

Bella threw Edward and Jasper a panicked look and motioned towards the closet which both boys scrambled into. Once inside Edward became aware of his close proximity to Jasper.

Awkward.

He heard Bella open the door and Chief Swan's gruff voice.

"I just wanted to let you know that I have to go out."

"Is everything okay?" Bella asked.

"Got a call-out. Apparently some kids, including that Whitlock boy, are messing around out by Creek Park. Hopefully I won't be home too late…Are you alright? You seem fidgety."

"Oh yeah, I'm actually just on the phone to Alice; she has menstrual questions."

Both Edward and Jasper winced and the Chief seemed completely out of his comfort zone, too. "Okay, well…you go…deal with that."

"Be careful."

"Always am."

"Bye, Dad."

"Bye, weirdly grown-up Bella."

After a few moments Edward heard footsteps crossing the room. The door in front of him and Jasper was opened and a smirking Bella appeared. Edward began to untangle himself from a wax jacket and a pair of dungarees when Bella stopped him. "Wait a moment."

"Why?" he asked nervously.

Bella took a calming breath and straightened her t-shirt; then she smiled brightly. "I can't believe I am getting to say this, but…Jasper and Edward, would you please come out of the closet?"

Edward rolled his eyes, while Jasper muttered, "That was lame; you could have done better than that, Bella."

After putting a more comfortable distance between himself and Jasper, Edward turned towards him. "I'm guessing the sleeping bag is for you."

Bella answered. "Jasper sleeps here sometimes."

Edward nodded but kept on looking at Jasper. "If you're here, how come the Chief thinks you're out in the woods?"

Jasper ran a hand through his light, messy hair. "Yeah, about that…"

xxx

A/N: I hate it when Emmett becomes the fan fiction dumbass. So I had him recite the St. Crispin's Day speech.

"We must love one another or die" is a line in W. H. Auden's 'September 1, 1939'.

Reviewers receive a teaser for Chapter 13.