Buying Chicken Soup
Even two monsters know the value of family.
Disclaimer: I own nothing and make no profit from this.
1. Buy Chicken Soup
Rating 4.5/5 Word Count 698 Review this Chapter
It looked like pee. And the noodles were always slimy while they slide down his throat, and there was never enough chicken.
Jacob Black hated chicken soup, but he was at the store, buying it for his sick father nonetheless, when—
Bella—he could smell her—oh God—should he…ignore? Confront? Freeze her out? Act like nothing was wrong?
He looked slowly, stealthily, over his shoulder, only to find there was no Bella. Was he going crazy? But no…there was her friend, Jessica, gossiping with another girl he didn’t know.
Jacob paid the man at the counter and left as quickly as he could, staying as far from Jessica as possible.
It was, naturally, rainy. The slow drizzle of water on the sidewalk seemed to echo overly loud in his ears. He pushed the paper sack under his sweater to prevent it from being soaked.
Then, he smelled another familiar scent.
Bloodsucker. Edward Cullen.
He looked up to find the vampire standing a few feet a way from him, motionless as he was, on the nearly empty street.
Damned if he’d let that stupid bloodsucker make him go out of his way—Jacob walked boldly toward him.
Cullen didn’t move out of his way.
“Cullen.” Jacob was always a little surprised by the growl in his voice, the fire he knew he would see in his own eyes—a fire to match the ice in Edward Cullen’s.
“Black. What are you doing, on our territory?”
“That’s not really your business. I’m not doing anything that would get in your precious way.”
He raised an eyebrow—something he had to practice in the mirror. If he showed up in mirrors, he amended.
“Really? You seem to be rather close to the residence of Charlie Swan and…his daughter.”
“Well, if by ‘close’ you mean ‘five blocks away’, then yeah, I guess I am. Forks is a small town, you know.”
Cullen’s face was almost smug now. “Of course. But still, I have to remind you the conditions of the treaty, as you were as kind to remind me a few weeks ago.”
Silence—better to say nothing.
“So…I think I have the right to ask…if you weren’t visiting Bella—”
Angry and rash, he couldn’t help saying, “Maybe I was. After…Forks is a small town…maybe I like the walk.”
Now it was the bloodsucker’s turn to get pissed. “You were visiting her?”
He remembered the treaty, the agreement, the tentative peace, the old feud, things more important than one girl. “No. I wasn’t.”
“Then what were you doing?”
“Not your frickin’ concern.”
Cullen took a step closer. “I think it is.” Then the bloodsucker saw the bag and grabbed it.
Jacob looked away as the vampire pulled out the Styrofoam container. “Chicken soup?”
No explanation is needed—you don’t answer to the bloodsucker, Jacob told himself. “It’s for my dad, okay? He’s sick. And…he likes it from here, okay? Happy now?”
Some of the nastiness, the rivalry, in Cullen’s face vanished. He handed back the brown paper bag, his movement less tense.
Silence, again, for a long moment, and then, the vampire spoke, looking him in the eye. “I hope he makes a fast recovery.”
And somehow, Jacob knew that this…thing that was his ancient rival in a fight that he didn’t really know anything about genuinely meant what he said. Meeting his gaze for a moment before looking down, Jacob muttered, “Thanks.”
“And.” Cullen paused, and when Jacob looked back him, his face had traces of the icy scorn in it once more, “That sweater looks horrible on you, by the way.” It did—it would look horrible on anyone.
“Screw off, bloodsucker,” he spat back, unable to think of a good retort for someone who was perfect, besides the whole being dead thing. “It was better for everyone when you were gone.”
Cullen’s eyes narrowed, and Jacob glared back, then walked past him, suddenly remembering that he had the chicken soup and it was getting cold.