Rating: NC-17 overall
Summary: Cleaning out the skeletons in Rob & Kristen’s closet, one sweet trinket at a time.
Disclaimer: I don’t own them
Notes: Dedicated to bluangleyes75 because, well, it’s her plotline. :)
Prologue
“Rob.”
He groaned in his sleep and rolled over.
“Robert.” Her hand reached out and shook him.
He shifted, bringing his pillow over his head.
“Pattinson!” she yelled, pulling the curtains open, allowing the bedroom to flood with bright sunlight.
“What? Fuck, Kris! Shut the g’damn blinds!”
“Get your ass up, you lazy asshole,” she said.
“Why?” he whined.
“Because I’m pregnant and you don’t want to piss me off?”
He chuckled, reaching out to grab her wrist and pull her down onto the bed with him. “You know, you’ll only be able to use that excuse for another four months,” he said, kissing her.
She laughed against his lips. “I know, but then I get to use the postpartum excuse and that’s going to be so much fun!”
His hand went to her belly and he grinned up at her. “I love you.”
“I love you too. Now get up and get your coffee so that we can get started on turning the spare room into your son’s nursery.” She stood up and tugged at his hand.
He sat up and allowed her to pull him to her feet. “You’re really looking forward to getting rid of all that junk, aren’t you?” he said, pulling on a t-shirt.
She hummed to herself. “Yeah, I guess you could say that,” she said.
Chapter 1 [Converse]
“Bless you,” Rob said absentmindedly as Kristen sneezed for the millionth time since she sat down to go through the old trunk.
“Thanks,” she muttered, grabbing another tissue. “Gee whiz,” she grumbled, “doesn’t anyone in this house know how to dust?”
He laughed, moving to sit beside her on the floor. “Holy shit, I remember these!” he exclaimed pulling a pair of filthy, worn-out, ink-covered Converse.
”What are you doing?” she asked, giving him a weird look as he sat down and pulled her foot into his lap.
“Drawing,” he said, taking a pen from his pocket and taking the cap off with his teeth. He waggled his eyebrows playfully at her, causing her to roll her eyes at him.
“Whatever, you dork,” she grumbled, pulling her phone out to check her texts.
Half an hour and countless teasing jabs later, he finally put her foot down. “Don’t look until I leave,” he said.
“That’s not fair! We haven’t even gone over our lines!”
He raised his eyebrows. “You really fell for that excuse?” he asked, surprised. Smirking, he spouted off part of the script that he’d lied about wanting to read with her. “Don’t be offended, but you seem to be one of those people who just attract accidents like a magnet. So… try not to fall into the ocean or get run over or anything, all right?”
Her jaw dropped and she was at a loss for words. “You lied?”
He bent down and kissed her forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Stewart.”
And then he was gone, letting himself out of her apartment quietly.
She shook herself out of her daze, trying to ignore the way her skin burned where his lips had touched her. She bent over, pulling her favorite white converse off and studying what he’d written.
Quotes.
Lyrics.
Things he liked about her.
She felt the lump in her throat grow and her cheeks flush as each thing he’d written or drawn got more honest.
She swallowed hard and reached for her other shoe. He hadn’t spent as much time on it but she remembered him switching to it.
She turned it over with shaky hands and read the lyrics there.
Mmmm, these dreams of you
So real and so true
These dreams of you
So real and so true
She sighed, silently cursing herself for letting him know that Van Morrison was one of her weaknesses.
She was about to put the shoe down when she saw one last thing written on the edge of the sole.
“Go on a date with me.”
“It worked, didn’t it?” he asked, breaking her from her thoughts.
She rolled her eyes. “Sure, babe, whatever makes you feel better.”
“Pffft,” he teased, waving a hand at her.
She giggled. “Yeah, baby, it worked.”
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