Disclaimer: I do not own Edward. I do not own Isabella. And I certainly do not own Jacob I do however own Internet Ordained Jake the Bartender)

A/N: This was written blindly in an hour last night. It deters from every comfort zone I have. I hope you like it, I loved writing it!

He sat on a stage and played the same songs every night, waiting for her to take her seat so he could say that his muse had arrived.

She sat in the bar and watched him play the same songs every night, knowing he was singing them for someone else. He said so every time.

He wrote for her, every single word was for her. He would never be able to tell her.

She drank for him; every single sip was for him. She knew she would never be enough.

This is the story of a boy and a girl. Both beautiful people with strong souls not ready to take that leap.

Someone needed to intervene.

"Who's your muse, Cullen?"

"A girl…" Was all he said. It was all he ever said.

"Does she know she's your muse?"

"I wish."

He never gave a lot away about the girl. Over time, the staff had learned that it was a girl that frequented the bar, sat in a chair, and drank…something. Not a whole lot to go by.

"Why do you come here, Swan?"

"A boy…" Was all she said. It was all she ever said.

"Does he know you come here for him?"

"I wish."

She was a mystery. She came here a lot, but so did many others. All of them came here for Cullen. None of them had a chance. Just her. Just his muse.

Jake the bartender stood and watched one night. He noted that she never looked at the stage, so she wasn't here for Cullen.

Cullen always announced that his muse had arrived after a large group of people had entered. That was no help. It was almost staged that way.

She sat in her usual seat and sipped her usual drink, looking everywhere. She looked towards the door, she looked towards the bar, and she even looked towards the restrooms.

He, who had already been on the stage and playing for twenty minutes, took a moment, took a sip of water and announced the arrival of his muse. He looked towards the door, he looked towards the bar, and he even looked towards the restrooms.

It was in that moment he saw it. Cullen never looked at her table and Swan never looked at his stage.

The muse and the boy were none other than the difficult twins. The same two people he had been pulling his hair out over for months.

"You should tell him he's the boy."

"Why?"

"I think he would like to know that his muse is here to see him."

"I'm not his muse," she scoffed. "He's never even looked my way."

"Precisely."

A chuckle and a joyful "I'll be right back" and Jake the bartender was off to mix a drink for 'The Boy'

He finished his set on the stage and was instantly surrounded by girls. They always wondered if they were his muse, but they couldn't have been farther from the truth. They would never be his muse.

"You should tell her she's your muse."

"Why"

"I think she would like to know that her boy sings for her."

"I'm not her boy," he scoffed. "She's never even looked my way."

"Precisely."

He wandered to the bar and had Jake the bartender pour him a vodka soda.

"She drinks that same damn thing…every time she's here."

He looked up in surprise and Jake the bartender nodded his head.

He changed his routine tonight.

"Who's your muse, Cullen?"

"A girl"

"Does she know she's your muse?"

"She will soon enough."

Jake the bartender mixed him another vodka soda and he stalked with purpose towards the brown eyed beauty he saw here every night. He had asked Jake about her once. Jake said he didn't know. She was here to see a boy. That was all she ever said.

"Why do you come here, beautiful girl?" He asked her from behind.

She rose and turned so slowly, he thought he might crack from the pressure.

"Why do you come here boy?"

"I asked you first."

"To be your muse, but your muse is someone better than me."

"Well…I come here to be your boy. Perhaps we could work something out."

He smiled at her and she smiled back. He walked towards the table, set down their matching drinks, and leaned down close to her ear.

"You come here to be my muse. I come here to be your boy. Perhaps we should start coming here together."

"Or perhaps we shouldn't come here at all." She said to the boy.

Jake the bartender understood when he first stopped seeing her and then he slowly decreased his shows. He no longer announced the arrival of his muse because she no longer came. She was waiting eagerly at a pub not halfway down the block for her boy to finish his set so they could spend the night together.

"Where did the Cullen boy go?"

"He found his muse."

"I thought his muse was here."

"She was until the day she knew she was his muse."

The conversation never made sense to anyone else. They did not matter anyways. All that mattered was that the boy and the muse had finally taken a leap, their beautiful souls finally melted together as one.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the boy and his muse," Jake the bartender said one day in August when the pair came in together. "I thought you would never come back here to see me."

Everybody's eyes danced over the pair. The girls were jealous; they had all been hoping to have been the muse. The boys were jealous; they had all been hoping to have been the boy. Everybody had heard both of their stories. Too many times to count.

"I asked her to marry me. We have you to thank." Said the boy.

"When he asked me to marry him, I told him it might never have happened had he ever looked my way."

They looked at each other then with so much love in their eyes that it could be felt through the earth and down to the other side in China, because you know that China is always on the other side of the earth, no matter where you are.

"The girls are disappointed, Cullen."

"Are they?" The boy looked over his shoulder with a smirk upon his face.

"The boys are more disappointed." He told him as he kissed his muse and she giggled for the boy.

Jake the bartender planted two vodka sodas on the table and waved off the twenty that the boy tried to give him in payment.

"Seeing you two finally with what you want is payment enough." He told them.

They drank their drinks together and left hand in hand into the night.

They went back there one night in early June. Jake the bartender stood in a suit at the front of the stage, the boy stood beside him looking sure of himself. The new house band sat on the stage behind them. The singer surreptitiously gave the boy a nod, as he had opened up the spot for him to play there night after night.

"Are you nervous?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because I'm here to see my muse."

It was so simple. Perhaps it wasn't to everyone else, but they understood.

"What shall I call you when I say the words?"

"Edward. I'm her Edward now, and she is my Isabella."

"I sure am going to miss calling you Cullen."

"I'm not."

Two minutes and forty six seconds later, his muse stood at the end of a makeshift aisle, all of their family and friends and even most of the bar patrons looking on. She stood there in a dress so white and beautiful, but it still didn't do her justice. Her rosy cheeks smiled and she looked sweetly up at the boy through her mass of eyelashes.

Finally making her way slowly down the aisle, she didn't take her eyes away from his.

"She's going to be my wife." The boy whispered to the internet ordained Jake the bartender.

"She's going to be your forever."

The look on the boys face was something none of them had ever seen before. There was a twinkle and a sparkle and the burn of passion like he was strumming his guitar for her. In truth he had only ever strummed for her.

She made her way to the front and they were a couple possessed. Theirs eyes were only for each other.

"Who's your muse, Edward?" Jake asked quietly, just loud enough for everyone to hear, but not loud enough to break the peace that had settled itself in the air.

"A girl." He said not taking his eyes off of her.

"Does she know she's your muse?"

"She does."

He grinned as Jake read out their uniquely written Vows of sorts. He would do the proper ceremony afterwards, but this was the important part. Changing the answers to the questions that they had answered so many times before.

"Why do you come here, Isabella?"

"A boy."

"Does he know you come here for him?"

"He does."

Internet ordained Jake the bartender continued on and finished the rest of the service. They were the two most beautiful souls ever to be married in this bar. It didn't matter that they were the only ones.

The band behind them began to play the last song he had ever played for Isabella before he got a real job and only played for her in private.

As they danced around the room, the boy sang the words quietly into her ear so that only she could hear.

"Finally you have found something perfect. Finally you have found yourself with me. Will you agree to take this man into your world? Now we are as one."

She began to cry and he began to wipe away her tears.

"All I want is for you to be happy. Take this woman and make you my family."

She sang those words along with the boy and he picked her up and swung her around in a circle.

"I can't believe you thought my muse was someone better" He told her.

"I can't believe you thought you weren't the boy."

Every week, The Muse and The Boy returned for a night to visit where they met and fell in love. Every week there were two vodka sodas sitting on the very table the girl sat at every night.

He sat in their bedroom and played the same songs every night, waiting for her to lie down so he could say that his muse had arrived.

She lay in their bed and watched him play the same songs every night, knowing he was singing them for her. He said so every time.

Years later…

"What's that Cullen kid doing?"

"Waiting for his muse." Jake the Bartender told him.

"Who's his muse?"

"A girl."

"Does she know she's his muse?"

"He wishes."

A boy sat on the same stage his father did night after night. He plays the same songs, night after night. All for her. Only for her.

A man and his muse sit at a table. The same table she sat at night after night watching him play, waiting to tell him that he was the boy and she was the muse. They come to see their son play, and wonder who his muse is.

A girl sits at a table. She looks towards the door, towards the bar and even towards the restrooms.

The boy looks towards the door, towards the bar and even towards the restrooms before announcing that his muse had arrived.

The patrons look to the Man and the Muse, they remember the stories, but she is not who the boy is talking about. That muse is his mother.

"Who's his muse?" The man asks an older Jake the Bartender.

"A girl."

"Why does she come here?" The older woman asks.

"A boy."

"Vodka sodas?"

"Vodka sodas."

"The girls will be disappointed." The older muse says as she sips her very own Vodka soda.

"Not as disappointed as the boys will be. I've always told you that." The man smirked.

The boy finished his set and the girls swarmed him. He made his way to the table they sat at week after week.

"You should tell her she's your muse."

"Why?"

"Because she's waiting to find out that her boy sings for her."

"I'm not her boy," he scoffed. "She's never even looked my way."

"Precisely." Jake the bartender said with a smirk as he made his way back to the bar to make two vodka sodas.

The End

Chapter Notes: The song in this O/S is 'Hard to Concentrate' by The Red Hot Chili Peppers. This story was not inspired by it nor did I listen to music when I was writing. Blind plot bunnies can be a beautiful thing.