I'm sorry? *dodges flying tomatoes* I know it's been more than a year, but this story is never far from my mind. I'm sure as you all well know, Real Life takes up a lot of our time. You've been so lovely to me and I appreciate each encouraging and thoughtful review, favorite and follow. I'm sorry if I haven't replied to the reviews but please know that they inspired me a lot. I hope you all like the new chapter!

Warnings: Emmett's potty mouth and a brief mention of the inappropriate usage of stuffed toys

I forgot to mention on the previous chapter: HLOLARAWCHAWMP is totally a legit acronym, and according to the urban dictionary means: "Hysterically Laughing Out Loud And Rolling Around While Clapping Hands And Wetting My Pants."

Chapter 11: Close Encounters of the Cullen Kind

Edward walked into the Cullen living room with something large, heavy and furry in his hands.

And no, it was not THAT kind of large, heavy and furry thing – get your mind out of the gutter, please.

"You've got to be kidding me," Rosalie muttered. "What the hell is that?"

The other occupants of the room blinked in eerie synchronization, distracted from their current (and usual) engaging activity: staring in space and doing nothing.

Edward frowned at the 'Thing' he was holding, baffled by their reactions. He couldn't see anything wrong with it.

"It's a taxidermy model," he replied.

"It looks like a stuffed animal," Alice pointed out delicately. "For children. A teddy bear."

"Are you crazy, Alice?" Emmett piped in. "That's not a bear. It's Winnie the Pooh's and Miss Piggy's love child. It's –"

"Teddy Pig," Jasper offered with a deadpan expression.

They all looked at him.

"Jasper!" Alice said exasperatedly, mirth bubbling helplessly in her throat. "Cheekiness won't help."

The male Hale shrugged nonchalantly.

"Thank you all for your unsolicited and unwelcome feedback." Edward growled, miffed at the thoughts running through his siblings minds. "Your concern is very much unappreciated."

"You're welcome," Jasper told him, with the same (non)inflection in his voice when he suggested the toy's name.

"Uh, Jas-" Emmett put his two cents in, glancing at both of them warily. "I think Eddie-poo meant that sarcastically."

"Jasper was being sarcastic right back, Em," the seer explained, well used to her brother's denseness.

"Oh. Of course I knew that-"

"Is it that bad?" Edward asked, before the sibling argument could devolve into something stupider and more childish, if that was possible. Considering the number of stupid and childish arguments they always got into, that was saying something.

He held up the now-dubbed 'Teddy Pig' so they can inspect it further.

"What are you going to use it for?" Alice was eyeing the particularly garish shade of orange on its bow, which clashed magnificently awfully with the green-purple fur. It was quite a pathetic thing, actually. She'd seen better-looking roadkill.

"I know exactly what Eddie-poo's gonna use it for." Emmett was waggling his eyebrows and licking his lips lasciviously. "T.P. is the perfect size for-"

"Gross, Emmett,"Jasper glared at his brother disgustedly, feeling lust and mischief rolling off of the burly vampire. He turned to his other brother. "Please tell us you haven't descended into Emmett's level of depravity, Eddie-poo."

Rosalie snickered (elegantly, she might add), suddenly enjoying how this conversation was panning out. She so loved entertainment at the expense-and humiliation-of others, especially if it was Edward as the butt of the joke.

"Edward, I know you're desperate to find a mate," Alice joined in; worry tingeing the cadence of her voice. "In the meantime, you don't have to resort to this. We can always find someone to satisfy your…bodily needs. Not Teddy Pig. As horrible and unfashionable as he looks like, he's too innocent for that sort of thing."

"I don't understand all of you. 'Satisfy my bodily needs?' That sounds like you're hiring someone to help me take a shit," The bronze-haired vampire stared at each of his covenmates. He normally didn't use crude wording, but this situation fucking needed it.

He was also puzzled by one word blazing through their minds. "What in the world is plushophilia?"

Emmett's X-rated and sexually explicit mind imagery answered the question for him.

"What. No. Emmett, that's…could you please stop thinking?" What was thought cannot be un-thought. Edward blamed Emmett for 94% of his mental trauma (the remaining six percent only partially attributed to the burly vampire). "You were the one who suggested it in the first place!"

Alice gasped.

"So it's true, then? Our darling, impressionable 'Eddie-poo' has turned into a plushophiliac? Emmett, how could you corrupt his pure, immaculate mind? How could you live with yourself?"

She wasn't able to stifle the laugh that followed.

"Technically, he's not living," Jasper put in. Everyone ignored him.

"I abhor all of you to the bottom of my undead, unbeating heart," Edward snarled. Damn them for always making him the brunt of their merriment. He pushed away a snickering Jasper from the comfy couch so Teddy Pig could sit. The empath acquiesced with a graceful fish flop on the floor. The telepath kicked him just because.

They were unable not to look at it, even Jasper from his position on the carpet.

"It's quite amazingly ugly, isn't it?" Alice said in horrified fascination. The orange-green-violet monstrosity didn't look any better from a different angle. "So ugly that it's cute. Cugly."

"I'm thinking of giving it to Harry," Edward admitted. "Not for any disgusting things you perverts were thinking. I wanted to do something nice for him and Emmett suggested giving him a present."

His brother looked pleased that his suggestion was taken to heart.

"A 'thank-you-for-saving-me-but-you-didn't-really-need-to' present?" Rosalie asked doubtfully, not bothering to hide how his plan disturbed her.

"I guess I was partially responsible for all of this," Alice said ruefully. "If I hadn't seen a vision of Bella being hit by Tyler's van, Edward wouldn't be near the place to try to rescue her – and Bella's friend wouldn't have popped in and saved him."

"It was Edward's fault for wanting to save that girl." Disdain was dripping heavily down Rosalie's every word. "The newbie wasn't even remotely near the place of the accident. Your visions are on the fritz, Alice. What would have happened if that strange boy didn't play the hero? Edward might have compromised our position here and we would have to move. Again."

'It sounds like you're grateful to the kid. Are you developing a soft spot for humans, love?"

"Fat chance."

"Don't be too hard on Edward, Rose," Alice defended her brother. "Families should stand by one another, shouldn't they? Every one of us has nearly endangered our secret lots of times before, and we always got away with it."

"There will be a time that we won't."

Silence.

"Looks like Edward wanted to be the knight-in-shining-armor but ended up being a damsel in distress," Emmett guffawed. He couldn't stand Edward's broodiness and his siblings' arguments. Family should stand by one another, after all.

By the looks of it, Jasper had the same idea. He scooted near the creature, took both of his paws and waved them up and down.

"Hello, Harry!" Jasper chirped in a falsetto voice. "My name's Teddy Pig. 'T.P.' for short. I'm supposed to be a thank-you gift, but Edward just wants to get into your pants and do all sorts of wicked things to you-"

Emmett and Alice cracked up.

"That's not true!" The bronze-haired vampire slapped away Jasper's hands. "Get your filthy mitts off of T.P. You'll make him dirty with your impure thoughts."

Jasper shrugged, accidentally knocking the bear askew. They froze when T.P. started speaking.

"I love you!"

"Jasper, poke that thing again," Rosalie ordered.

"Be mine!" Poke.

"You're the only one for me!" It sang.

"I swear I didn't know it was going to do that," Edward defended himself, seeing his sibling's disbelieving and unimpressed expressions.

Emmett dropped to the floor next to Jasper with a curious, devilish grin.

"Come on, T.P. Don't fail me, buddy. Say something nice, like 'I wanna fuck you hard and raw.'"

"Don't be stupid, Emmett. Valentine bears were not made to say that."

"Let's XXX I #3 1 you ? !#!" T.P. piped up.

"Did we hear that correctly, or is our perfect vampiric hearing failing us?" Emmett inquired. T.P. suddenly didn't appear so innocent and innocuous.

"It might be a defective product," Alice offered consolingly, noticing Edward's devastated expression.

"That doesn't really comfort me, Alice," he said gloomily. "How can I give this to Harry now?"

"Don't be silly. I'm sure he'll love it!"

"You don't really believe that," he countered, reading her thoughts.

"Why on earth are you focusing on the unimportant stuff? There is something really odd and suspicious about that boy, and all you're worried about is how he won't like a stupid stuffed animal?"

"Everyone who is not part of our family is odd and suspicious to you, Rose."

"Not everyone. Only that boy and his clueless, newbie friend. Don't tell me none of you noticed."

"Harry seems like a nice guy," Alice rebutted. "A bit impulsive and stupidly brave, but as far as faults go, there are much worse traits to have."

"Did you see something about him?" Edward questioned. The seer frowned contemplatively.

After a pause, "No."

"What can you see from his thoughts, Edward?"

"Nothing helpful," he admitted reluctantly. "His thoughts are as disjointed and as irrational as Bella's." If he spent more than a minute inside that psychedelic mind, he would definitely go off the deep end. How curious to encounter two people with similar thought patterns.

"Isn't that odd and suspicious?" Rosalie burst out, annoyed at their idiotically trusting natures. "Two people – who smell the same, I might add – and are immune to vampiric powers came to Forks where we are? I'm waiting for my chance to say 'I told you so.' Don't you all see the connection?"

"Of course Edward sees it, Rosie," Emmett announced. "Eddie-poo's smitten. The only connection he wants is –" he held up a hand and formed an 'O' shape with his fingers. With a lecherous grin familiar to all of them, Emmett started thrusting the pointer finger of his other hand in the center of the shape.

In and out. In and out. Faster and faster. The flesh slapping together making an obscene sound.

Jasper covered T.P.'s pink, beady eyes with one hand.

"Don't look, T.P." he muttered to it.

"T.P. and I are leaving you horrible, horny teenagers," Edward said loftily. He snatched up Teddy Pig and barged out of the house, making sure to slam the door loudly to express his displeasure at all of them.

Silence reigned once more.

"I kind of want to see Harry's reaction to T.P. Do you think Eddie-poo will let us visit his little boyfriend?"

Harry was busy coaxing the cute nurse into giving him a sponge bath (What? He was invalid and couldn't do it himself) when someone knocked at the door.

The nurse smiled apologetically and took the food tray with her. Sigh. Naughty sponge baths would have to wait until next time.

"Come in," he called out, rubbing his face in exhaustion. Not-Bella (His Future? Past? Pluperfect? Self) had changed places with him the night before, so he hadn't gotten a wink of sleep yet. Fortunately, it was a weekend, and Not-Bella had made excuses to go to Port Angeles. He didn't have to turn time again, thank Merlin. There was only one of him to keep track of right now. Any longer of that time-turner mayhem would have probably imploded the universe. Of course, that was no assurance that he wouldn't do it again, but if the worse comes to worst and the universe did indeed implode because of him, he would just find a way to travel to another universe or something equally stupid.

Thinking of time paradoxes, alternate dimensions and imploding universes was stupid and an idiotic waste of time. He would rather think of having naughty sponge baths.

"Hello, Harry dear," a warm voice greeted him. Harry perked up.

"Mrs. Cullen!" He was pleasantly surprised to see the caramel-haired woman he met four chapters ago.

She gently placed a Tupperware container on the only table in the room before approaching him. He gestured to the chair at his bedside which she accepted with a grateful smile.

"Good morning, Ma'am," he greeted bashfully.

"Didn't I tell you to call me Esme?" she reprimanded in a gentle tone, fussing with his blankets and fluffing up his pillow. Harry was utterly charmed by her thoughtful actions.

"Sorry, Esme. Ma'am." He couldn't help how sheepish he sounded.

For some reason, Harry felt like Esme wanted to pinch his cheeks and coo at him. That was ridiculous, right? He was a grown, manly man and didn't need any mollycoddling.

"My son, Edward, told me what happened yesterday." Her eyes shone with tears and she clasped her hands to her bosom like actresses do in those soap operas he might or might not be watching. "When I think about what could have happened to you…and, uh, to him, too, I…"

He fidgeted, alarmed that his visitor might burst into hysterics. Weird that she seemed more concerned for him and not for her own son, but as he had said before, he didn't have girlish empathy and he probably read the situation wrongly.

Luckily, she was able to compose herself.

"I don't want anyone to get hurt if I could help it," Harry told her sincerely. He was a bit uncomfortable at the face of her gratitude.

"Edward is…a friend." Esme beamed upon hearing his declaration. "And even if he was a stranger, I still would have jumped in. Anyone would have done it if they were in my position."

"I don't believe so, dear. Not many would risk themselves for others, whether friends or not. For that, you have my family's gratitude."

Harry didn't know what to say. He kind of wished he was in a movie because this seemed like a pretty good part when the director would yell "CUT!" and save him from replying. Or maybe this could be a good chapter ender if he was in a story.

"Now then!" she continued cheerily, oblivious to his internal freak-out. Esme stood up and retrieved the container she brought earlier. Her back was turned so he couldn't see what she was fiddling with. "I know how much patients complain about how bland hospital food is, so I hope you'll like what I prepared for you."

The boy blushed as she handed him a bowl of steaming soup and a spoon.

"You made me chicken soup? Wow! Thanks, Esme." It looked like she wanted to spoon-feed him, which, okay. Just no. He was not a baby, no matter what anyone (read: Cookie) said. He grabbed the bowl from her as quickly as he could without sloshing the contents all over himself and causing second-degree burns or something. As much as he wanted naughty sponge baths from bombshell nurses, it was not worth the additional stay at the hospital.

The bowl was hotter than he thought and might have burned his fingertips a bit, and he couldn't exactly hold it properly since his arm was still in a sling, but he thought that he managed it as best as he could without making himself too much of a fool in front of Esme. What the hell, was that a run-on sentence or what? Everything still seemed a bit fuzzy. He still must be on the good stuff and only realized it now. Heh.

Esme was looking on patiently, ready to offer him help. He appreciated that she was holding back on babying him too much.

The steam that rose from the bowl tantalized his nostrils with the aroma of…he did not know how to put it properly in words. Home? Comfort? Warmth? Family? He stirred the soup gently, appreciating the thickness of the broth and anticipating how the creaminess would bring out the flavors on his tongue. He imagined that this is what it would be like if he grew up with people who cared for him.

He smiled unconsciously, momentarily forgetting about his unwitting audience.

"Would you like some crackers to go with it?"

Harry startled, thankfully without tipping his lovely bowl of chicken soup over. Then he could have slapped himself silly, seeing Esme watching him with a gentle expression on her face.

Getting sentimental over soup eh, Potter?

"No, this is fine," he replied, hoping that Esme would think that the redness of his cheeks was because of the steam. A small part of him just wanted to hold the bowl and savor the feeling until the soup had gone cold, but his visitor might think that he didn't want her gift.

Harry scooped out a spoonful and shoved it in his mouth.

He choked.

"Harry! Are you all right?"

"I-I'm fine! Don't worry about me, Esme," he wheezed out. His spoon fell out of his free hand as he pounded his chest weakly. He must have been a pitiful sight, coughing and hacking as if he was going to puke out his soul with some of his bloody innards. Maybe a liver and one of his kidneys.

Shite, the soup was TOO SPICY. ABORT! ABORT! FIRE IN THE HOLE!

"It's-it's delicious, Esme!" Harry declared, unable to prevent his eyes from watering like crazy. The flavors really burst in his tongue all right...and were dancing salsa all over his poor, burnt appendage.

"Are you-are you crying?"

"These are tears of joy!" He gasped out and mustered up the courage to try another spoonful so as not to hurt her feelings. Harry Potter had never felt braver before in his life, including the times when he encountered the snake-faced, nose-less drag queen wannabe with a bad sense of fashion.

What in the name of all that is hot and spicy did she put in this stuff? Hagrid-sized jalapenos? A demonic chicken? Dragon horns? He wondered if anyone had ever been killed by spicy soup before. His tongue probably had second-degree burns by now and he would have no choice but to get a tongue transplant – with his luck, from some dead and dodgy person with mononucleosis or Tourette Syndrome. And then no one would want to kiss him or be his friend because he would have cursed them with bad language six ways to Sunday and back. Did hospitals even have tongue transplants? What if he had to live the rest of his life tongue-less? How could he ever try French kissing without it? At least Voldy had a tongue, even if it was forked. But he guessed nobody would try to French kiss Voldemort. Or maybe someone would? There were some kinky bastards in the world, after all. He had no way of knowing, but maybe forked tongues could heighten sensation. Not that he wanted a forked tongue or anything. He was perfectly fine with his tongue (or at least he was before trying out the soup a la Esme).

He shuddered at the thought of Voldy, forked tongues and French kisses put together.

"Mmm…yummy!" He needed a glass of fucking water. Right now.

His nostrils were burning like hell. He wouldn't be surprised if he suddenly breathed fire like a badass dragon. Actually, that would be cool, come to think of it. That would be an awesome addition to his and Ron's Dragon Latin language.

Esme looked relieved, the worried frown etched on her pretty brow smoothing out and she smiled brightly at him.

Ah, hell. Might as well finish the whole bowl to keep her from worrying. Because when Esme smiled, angels descended from heaven singing arias and doling out peace and forgiveness to all sinners and kids all around the world received happy meals for free.

"How are you feeling, dear?"

Aside from his mouth was suffering in fiery jalapeno goodness and he hadn't been given his naughty sponge bath yet, he was feeling fine and told her so. Well, minus the spicy and naughty parts. That sounded a lot dirtier than he intended, but luckily no one around could read minds and his thought process was not compromised.

"The doctor said that I could be discharged soon if I could be trusted with taking care of my arm," he told her.

Hospitals were so dreary aside from mooched lollipops from Dr. Cullen, potentially sexy sponge baths and visits from random people bearing dubious gifts. There wasn't much to do at all, although he guessed that braving Esme's soup was pretty exciting and a great premise for a blockbuster movie. Additionally, it might cause spontaneous human combustion. The fire brigade should be alerted before the consumption of it. His closest memory to the hell soup was the time he was in Japan and he stuck a glob of wasabi up his nose as a dare. His sense of smell had never been the same ever since.

"Do you have a place to stay? I heard from Edward that you are friends with one of his classmates. Could your friend take care of you while she is at school? You could stay with us, if you like."

"I couldn't impose on you and your family like that," Harry said, becoming more familiar with the earnest and determined expression on her face. He had a feeling that Esme would get her way in the end, but felt it was only courteous if he offered up a protest.

"Nonsense! Our house has too many rooms than I know what to do with. The others wouldn't mind. It also gets a bit lonely when my husband is at work and Edward and the others are at school. Who's going to appreciate my cooking when they're not at home?" she joked.

"I'll think about it," Harry relented. The other Cullens would doubtlessly find a stranger in their house vexing, so he decided to ditch this place as soon as he was able. Being Bella again would let him step away and give him a sense of distance.

Esme stayed a bit longer, chatting about things in random – her paintings, Edward and her other children, and the knitting club she recently joined. Harry was content to listen, letting the cadence of her voice lull him in a sense of peace and comfort. She didn't push him to contribute to the conversation, most likely sensing that he didn't want to talk about himself. Before leaving, she hugged him tenderly, keeping the pressure away from his injured arm.

Harry breathed deeply into the hug, surprised at the feeling of loss and despair at the thought of giving this (whatever this is) up and distancing himself. He hardly even knew them. They hardly even knew him. So why…?

The boy smiled, sinking into the hug and bringing his free hand around his visitor's shoulders. Esme Cullen reminded him of Molly Weasley – only prettier and with ten times worse cooking skills. Not that that it was a bad thing.

"Hey, man."

Tyler shuffled into the room with a sheepish grin on his face. Harry blinked, not expecting Bella's classmate to visit.

"I'm Tyler, the driver of the van that hit you," he winced, shoving his hands deeper in his jean pockets and shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

Harry waited patiently while his visitor gathered his thoughts.

"I'm so, so sorry for hitting and hurting you!" He blurted out in a rush. "I didn't mean to, I swear! The brakes suddenly stopped working and the ground was a lot more slippery because of the snow, and-well, I guess I'm a shitty driver."

The teenager sounded so earnest and remorseful that Harry would have immediately forgiven him if he had blamed the boy for what happened. It had never even occurred to Harry to blame Tyler for the accident. It was just that – an accident.

"We-my parents and I- are going to pay for the hospital bills and the damages that I had caused. Please, just worry about getting better."

"I'm glad to see that you're okay" Harry told him. He did really need Tyler's financial help, but it was the thought that counted. Tyler seemed more conscientious than Harry initially thought. He hadn't really formed an opinion about the Forkian boy prior to this incident. He was a minor character that the author used in the filler chapters. Now, he was more than a cookie-cutter character. The wizard was kind of proud of him. "I'm not angry at you, Tyler. Accidents happen. It wasn't your fault. If anything it was mine, since I was the one who jumped in front of the van in the first place."

"But you did it to save Cullen," he pointed out. "It was my fault. I should have checked the brakes before taking the van to school. I should've totally used snow tires, too."

The older boy couldn't help but chuckle. It was definitely strange to hear someone defending Harry's actions to him rather than blaming Harry. He rather liked the novelty of it.

"Tell you what. Let's make it both our faults and we'll call it even."

Harry-logic is the best kind of logic there is. It made Harry feel so wise to spout these pearls of wisdom while everyone else felt lost and confused (and more likely to go along with anything he wanted).

"Uhm…okay?"

Tyler still looked too guilty for his taste with all of his shuffling and bustling and shifty eyes. Honestly, he shouldn't felt so guilty since it didn't even occur to the wizard to blame him, let alone be mad at him.

He had expended all his anger a long time ago. Holding a grudge was too much of an effort. These days, he was mostly tired.

Harry perked up, a spark of mischief glinting in his eye.

"So, Tyler. Want some chicken soup?"

Up next: Edward's visit, T.P meeting Harry and Hedwig, and maybe the other Cullen kids dropping by to see Harry. I'm still not sure if I would include the last bit.

On most of the fanfics I've read, Esme was a kickass cook. I've always wondered about that. How could she be a good cook if she couldn't even taste what she made? How could she tell if it was too spicy, salty, bitter or whatnot? But don't worry, Harry will absolutely love her fire soup. He's weird like that in this story.

Thank you for reading and please review if you enjoyed. See you on the next chapter soon-ish!