The Life and Times Of Quil
A series of one-shots about Quil's [AKA the best werewolf ever's] life.
Don't we all love Quil? *sigh* He's amazing...
7. Happily ever after...
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Nineteen. My Claire was nineteen. I couldn’t believe it. We had spent the night of her birthday out partying, of course, with all of her friends. When we finally got back to the apartment we shared [as roommates, not as lovers], it was around 3:30 in the morning. I was tired, but Claire was still bright eyed.
“Come on, Quilly! Don’t go to bed yet. I want to stay up and talk!” She sat on the couch with her legs tucked under her. She patted the seat next to her.
“Aww, Claire, I have work at eight o’clock this morning! I have to get some sleep.” I complained, but went over to the couch anyways.
“So,” she started, “What’s up? Anything cool you should tell me?”
“Claire, it’s three-thirty in the morning. What could I possibly say besides I am in need of sleep?” I asked her honestly. Really, what else could I say that hadn’t already been said that long night?
“What about the wolves? I never get to talk to all of them much anymore.” She had a point. She was going to college here at UCLA, while I worked as an auto mechanic.
“They’re all fine. I talked to Jake yesterday; he told me Bianca’s getting really big. Kim’s pregnant, but I think you already knew that. Embry imprinted awhile ago, some girl named Hailey. I think you knew that too. Uh, let’s see…nothing else really.” I said, thinking as hard as I could for the late hour.
Claire sighed. She looked up at me for a fraction of a second before looking back at her knees. She scooted slightly closer to me. If I wasn’t a werewolf, I would have missed it.
It was then I realized that Claire had never had a serious boyfriend, that she always had time for me when she was to busy to go out with someone else. Could she possibly be falling in love with me? I couldn’t let myself hope that much.
“Quil?” She started, “Why do you never…go out? Is it because you’re, I don’t know, gay? Or do you have a secret girlfriend or something?”
I laughed. “No, I’m far from gay. And no, I don’t have a girlfriend. I know someone that I like very much, but I don’t think she wants to go there…yet.” Claire scrutinized me for a second.
“Quil,” she said slowly, and this time it was impossible for me to miss her getting closer. “I thought I knew everything about you. But you’ve mentioned something about imprinting before. Something about Uncle Sam and Aunt Emily. Have you ever imprinted?”
I gulped. It was now or never. I either brought us closer or drove us far apart. “Yes. On you.” I said before I could stop myself.
To my complete surprise, Claire smiled. “So, you, I guess, like me? And don’t pull that crap about liking me. I mean like like me.”
“Yeah...” My words were nearly inaudible. I was hoping so much that she wouldn’t get freaked.
“That’s what I’ve been waiting for.” Claire whispered, and then pulled me closer and kissed me.
I was just a bit shocked. I mean, I was waiting to tell her for maybe a couple more years, yet here she was, kissing me like there was no tomorrow. I kissed her back hungrily, savoring the sweet taste of her, committing it to memory.
After a few moments, or maybe a few hours, or maybe even a couple blissful years, we broke apart.
I was so happy, I couldn’t even speak.
Claire blushed. “Um, yeah, sorry if you didn’t want to, or something…”
My mouth dropped open. “Wanted to? Claire, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to. Probably since you were about 16,”
Claire smiled. “Really?”
I rolled my eyes. In answer, I leaned close and kissed her again, slowly, sweetly.
“Do you believe me?” I whispered.
“Mhmm,” she murmured, not taking her lips away from mine.
And that was that. Eventually we would get married, have kids, get old, and die. And I was fine with that, as long as I had Claire.
It was seven heavenly days later that we got the call. Bella told me that Alice had seen Claire in a wedding dress, and was shocked that we hadn’t told her sooner. I wasn’t even aware that we had decided to get married yet.
“Claire?” I asked as we ate some breakfast that morning. “Apparently we’re going to get married, the psychic saw it.”
Claire dropped her spoon into her bowl of cereal. “Really? Cool!”
“So, I guess I should propose first. Claire-bear, will you marry me?” I asked nonchalantly.
Claire giggled. “You’re not down on one knee. You don’t have a ring, and you didn’t even say my whole name. You call that a proposal?”
I frowned in fake remorse. “Oh, love of my life, my dear Claire Leanne Young, will you please, please, do me the honor of marrying me?” I had slid down to the floor, and held up an imaginary box with a gorgeous ring inside.
Claire gasped. “Oh, I don’t know what to say! I…I…yes!” We both laughed at our horrible acting.
I gathered her into my arms, smothering her with kisses. “Quil…lacking…oxygen…” I laughed and pulled away from her beaming face.
“I’ll call the pack!” She announced cheerfully.
I could picture Emily’s face when Claire started talking. First, she would have suspicion (“Well, I have something to tell you, it’s about Quil and I…”), then joy (“We’re getting married!”), and finally sadness (“No, Aunt Emily, we’re not going to have a huge celebration.”).
“Whew,” Claire said, “Glad we got that over with. Now, where were we?”
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