Crouched in front of Edward’s sitting form, your hands maneuvered his leg around, carefully scanning over the metal to pinpoint where the squeaking was coming from. The room was awfully quiet, the only noise being the quiet patter of rain outside your hotel room. Your hands trembled against the cold metal, and letting out a shaky breath that fogged up against the iron; you were close.

“What is it, a missing screw? or just oil?” Edward mumbled, exhaustion seeping into his tone. He stared down at you, hoping notnto disturb you too much from your train of thought. It was too late at night to be thinking straight, and you were just as tired as him, but the squeaking was becoming a nuisance to both of you.