Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: I always intended to do a prequel to PPDPUL, but I wanted to make sure it was absolutely perfect first... and that I embarrassed Jasper almost (maybe even more) than I did Edward. I love the guy, truly I do, but throwing him in these awkward situations was a blast.

I hope it makes you laugh as much as I did writing it!

And speaking of laughs, I highly recommend you check out the video, BAD LIP READING-TWILIGHT:ECLIPSE on Youtube. I laughed so hard, I almost choked to death. The way they dubbed Jasper's lines and the guy who did Jacob's part... *snort* I'm laughing just thinking about it.

I bonked my kit-TEH! (Trust me, that will only make sense if you watch/watched the video!)

Jasper sighed loudly as Peter barged uninvited through his bedroom door.

"Do we really need to have another conversation about knocking?" he asked dryly, not even bothering to look up from his book as he said it.

The question was a moot point anyways. To Peter, simply hearing the words 'personal boundaries' was practically an invite to challenge them as much as he possibly could.

Peter rolled his eyes and curled his hand up into a fist, rapping his knuckles gently against the wood of the already open door. "Knock, Knock," he called out dryly, before his lips twisted up in a smirk. "I don't see what the big deal is anyways, not like I ever interrupt anything."

Jasper's jaw ticked at the sly dig to his pretty much non-existent sex life. So what if he was... selective about who he let in his bed? After roughly ninety years of being his crazy Maker's life size dildo, one night stands filled with meaningless sex held little to no appeal to him anymore.

He didn't just want sex. He wanted a connection.

He sighed again and laid his book on his chest. "What do you want, Peter?"

"We're going out tonight."

"I don't want to go out," Jasper replied firmly.

"And I don't want to sit around all night watching you be a moody ass," Peter countered.

"I'm not moody," he grumbled.

Okay, so maybe he was a little.

He blamed it on Valentine's Day being just around the corner and the overabundance of love and lust that seemed to be swirling through every human he passed lately – reminding him once again what he was lacking in his life.

Peter snorted. "Are you kidding? You're ten minutes away from popping an Enya CD in the stereo."

"Do you have one?" Jasper countered sarcastically.

"No, but I'm sure Char has The Notebook on DVD if you wanna lock yourself in your room tonight and weep like a little bitch."

Jasper scowled up at him. "I really hate you sometimes, you know that?"

Peter smirked. "I know a lot of things," he retorted coyly.

Jasper crossed his arms across his chest. "I'm not going out."

"Uh, yeah you are. I'm calling on my favor."

Jasper's brows furrowed. "Favor? What favor?" He usually knew better than to offer Peter favors – considering they always came back to bite him in the ass.

"You forget you owe me a life-debt so easily brother," he intoned seriously.

Jasper dropped his head back and groaned. "And now I suddenly feel like I'm in a Harry Potter movie," he muttered. "You do realize that it's been almost seventy years since that happened, right?"

Peter shrugged as a secretive glint danced in his ruby eyes. "I've been biding my time."

"And you used it to make me go out with you?"

Peter's eyelashes fluttered and a hand rose to his throat. "Why, Major," he cooed, laying his normally mild southern accent on extra thick. "I had no idea you felt that way about me." His hand fell and a grin split his lips. "Definitely explains why you've never brought a girl home."

Jasper growled and whipped his pillow at Peter's head. "You knew what I meant, you bastard."

Peter snatched the soft flying projectile out of the air and laughed. "I saw an opportunity and I took it," he said unrepentantly. "But technically, this favor is a two-parter."

"How so?" Jasper asked suspiciously, suddenly picturing Peter demanding that he go out in full clown make-up. When it came to him, it really wasn't that far of a stretch.

Peter tossed the pillow he still held on the floor and reached into his back pocket. There was the faint sound of crinkling paper and seconds later, he was waving a folded piece of it in the air. He walked close enough for Jasper to reach up and cautiously snatch it out of his hands.

"What's this?" he asked as he unfolded it.

"A list," Peter replied simply.

Jasper snorted and looked up. "A list? What are you, sending me on a scavenger hunt?"

"Not quite." He gestured to the paper that Jasper had yet to look at. "Those are pick-up lines. We're gonna hit a few bars and clubs tonight, and you're gonna use those beauts on the women there."

Jasper finally looked down and scanned the list, unable to stop his upper lip from curling in disgust. "You can't be serious."

"So serious, I'm black."

"Enough with the Harry Potter references!" he snarled. He really didn't understand Peter's obsession with those damn movies. He remembered coming downstairs one night to see him watching one, a scar drawn on his forehead, a pair of fake glasses on his face, waving a branch and screaming "EXPECTO PETRONUM!" at the screen. It had been disturbing to say the least. "I am not saying any of these lines.

"Yes, you will," he retorted calmly.

Jasper shot him a warning look and slowly began to curl his hand around the paper. "What makes you think that?"

"Because one of these lines will help you snag your mate."

His hand froze and immediately loosened. "One of these lines will help me snag my mate?" he repeated skeptically, glancing down at the lightly crumpled list.

"Is there an echo in here?"

"I dunno, Peter." He smoothed it back out and silently re-read the first line and frowned so hard, Peter was worried his face would crack. "Baby, are you an astronaut? Cause that ass is out of this world," he recited incredulously. "I don't think I want a mate who'd be stupid enough to go for that line."

"That right there is a bona fide lady killer. Emphasis on the bone."

"Remind me again exactly how Char puts up with you?"

"She –"

Charlotte's burgundy head popped around the corner of the bedroom door, cutting off Peter's no doubt arrogant comment. "Counting in my head seems to work well."

Peter scoffed. "Please. You know I'm the best thing that ever happened to you."

Charlotte's ruby eyes slid shut. "One... two... three..." she muttered. She turned on her heel and walked back down the hall, still counting under her breath as Jasper laughed.

Peter waved his hand and made a dismissive sound in the back of his throat. "She loves me."

Jasper smirked and gestured towards him with the hand that held the paper. "Feeding her lines like this, how could she not," he said sarcastically.

Peter either didn't register the sarcasm, or simply didn't care. "They are pretty great," he agreed with a giddy smile.

"You at least gonna tell me which line works?"


Jasper gaped. "You just expect me to walk up to a bunch of strange woman and use," he waved the paper, "these?" he stated incredulously. "Can't you at least tell me the girl and save me some of the embarrassment?"

"Where's the fun in that?"

"Embarrassing me is fun?" Jasper growled. "I didn't realize you hated me so much."

Peter walked over to him and clamped his hands on his shoulders. "I'm doing this because I love you, man. Think of it as me helping you break out of that anti-social shell of yours. Besides, you have to meet a few wrong ones before can you appreciate the right one."

"Where'd you read that?" he muttered. "A self-help book?"

Peter smirked playfully. "If anyone needs one, Jay, it's you." He released his shoulders. "Now, get ready." He tapped his wrist where a non-existent watch sat. "We leave in a half-hour."

Jasper glanced down at the baggy sweats and muscle shirt he was currently wearing and almost considered wearing that in protest. If the slovenly look wasn't enough to turn the off the type of ladies that usually trolled the bars, then maybe the silvery scars that littered his arms and upper chest would.

Sighing loudly, he gingerly sat the list on his bedspread and began reluctantly pulling off his clothes. Digging through his drawers, he withdrew his favorite pair of worn jeans and pulled them up over his lean hips. As he buttoned them, he glanced back at the slightly crumpled piece of paper sitting innocently on his bed.

Was he really going to do this? Was he really going to follow Peter's advice? The guy who's every idea usually started with: "This is gonna sound crazy..."

He sighed again as he finished his ensemble with a tight, long-sleeved shirt in a forest green color. Who was he kidding? He'd gladly let Peter rip off all his limbs if it meant his mate would be waiting to put him together afterwards.

Snapping a thick, worn leather cuff around his wrist, he slipped his feet into a bar of broken in cowboy boots and stuck his wallet in his back pocket. Crossing the room, he snatched the list off his bed and paused long enough to check his faint reflection in the only window his bedroom had. He ran a hand through his wavy, chin-length hair, smoothing out the slightly staticy look they had gotten from him pulling his shirt over his head, and briefly wondered if he should pop in a pair of contacts like Peter and Charlotte were probably going to do.

He leaned closer and studied his golden eyes. Some people found them fascinating, but for others, it creeped them out almost as much as the red eyes did. He decided against it, telling himself that if he was going to meet his mate, he wanted her to see the real – or at least part of it – him.

Deeming himself ready, he took one final look at the list in his hand, committing the lines to memory. Unfortunately by the time he was finished, almost all of the bravado he had spent the last ten minutes building up was practically demolished.

Most of these lines were so cheesy; he could melt them in a pot and use it for fondue.

"I hate you, Peter," he muttered, folding up the paper and angrily jamming it into his pocket.

"Trust me, Jay," Peter yelled up the stairs, "You'll love me by the end of the night."

Jasper cringed as he flicked off his light and closed the door behind him. Not so much because he doubted Peter, no, but more because, if one of these lines did work like he said... he'd eventually owe him another favor.

And chances were, that one would definitely involve a clown costume.


"Are you a parking ticket? Cause you got fine written all over you."

Jasper fought a cringe as soon as the first line left his lips. I can't believe I really just said that. He had only been at this bar for ten minutes, and he was already regretting letting Peter talk him into this.

He could tell the long-legged red head had been intrigued when he first approached her – attraction swirling through her emotions as she gave him a once over. It disappeared after he opened his mouth, her lips puckering into a moue of distaste and her eyes going blank with disinterest.

"Excuse me," she said with forced politeness, "but I think I see my friends." She grabbed her pink cosmopolitan from the bar and moved into the shadows, taking a seat at what was a clearly empty table.

The male bartender wiping the bar top down looked at Jasper, shaking his head in a 'damn, that was pretty pathetic, bro' way, a faint tinge of pitying humor swirling in his emotions before moving off to take someone's order.

Unable to decide if he was furious or embarrassed, Jasper glanced around the crowded bar, suddenly feeling like everyone was staring at him – thankfully they weren't – and his eyes connected with a grinning Peter who sat in a booth, his arm draped around a frowning Charlotte. As he stared, Peter raised one finger and mouthed, "Strike one."

Jasper had never hated him more.


"Hey baby, I must be a light switch, 'cause you're turning me on."

Her bubblegum pink lips started to curl up into a smile and Jasper felt the barest beginnings of hope before she broke into shrill, ear piercing laughter.

"Seriously?" she shrieked, her eyes watering and causing her eyeliner to run. "Seriously?! Where'd you come up with that trash? ?" She whipped out her small bedazzled cell phone. "I am so gonna tweet this." Her fingers flew over the keyboard and, without looking up, she asked, "Hey, do you have an account? I could totally tag–"

He was gone before she could finish.

Strike two.


"Do you know what would look good on you? Me."

While he had prepared himself for many different reactions to that line, he hadn't expected the woman to tear up.

"That's the same line my husband used the night we met." She laughed bitterly. "He's probably using it on some slutty tramp as we speak. Cuervo!" she yelled, demandingly pounding the bar top behind her. She slammed back the shot as soon as it was placed in front of her, grimacing slightly at the burn.

Jasper watched with growing unease as her tough facade crumbled. "Why doesn't he love me anymore?!" she wailed, throwing herself into a stunned Jasper's arms.

He stood stiffly in her embrace as her wails increased, drawing the attention of every patron in the near vicinity. He shot them all a weak, uncomfortable smile and awkwardly patted her back. "There, there," he muttered, not really used to having crying females in his arms. He shot her a few calming emotions and grimaced in disgust when she snuffled and proceeded to wipe her nose across his already damp shirt.

She pulled back and smiled sultrily up at him. Unfortunately the effect was ruined by her heavily smeared makeup – which brought to mind the Joker – and the small dribbles of snot that she had failed to wipe off on his shirt.

"You know what they say." Her voice was scratchy thanks to the volume of her wails and her words came out as little more than a croak. "The best way to get over someone, is to get under someone else."

He gently pried her hands off of him – which, even for a vampire, proved to be surprisingly hard – and pushed her away. "I really don't think that's the best idea. You're obviously still pretty broken up about –"

Her smudged lips twisted in a sneer. "Oh, excuse me Mr. Sensitive," she spat. "Were you not just hitting on me a minute ago?" She snatched her purse up and whacked him in the shoulder with it. "Well, if you don't want it, I'm sure someone will." She stormed away from him, shouting "Who wants to get laid tonight?!" as she disappeared into the crowd.

Jasper pulled at the soiled fabric of his pull-over and scowled as he stalked in the opposite direction towards the table where Peter and Charlotte had once again situated themselves. Peter slid a small plastic bag across the table as he approached him.

"What's that?" he asked as he looked at it. "Something to put me out of my misery I hope."

Peter smirked. "It's another shirt."

Jasper's lips curled with a snarl. "Knew that was gonna happen, did you?"

Peter shrugged. "It's a gift."

"You're enjoying this way too much you smug bastard," he hissed as he snatched the bag off the table and steered himself towards the bathroom.

"Oh, Major," Peter called, stopping Jasper in his tracks. "I believe that's strike three."

Jasper flipped him the finger and continued walking, Peter's laughter growing fainter with every step.


"Is it hot in here, or is just you?"

Thankfully the woman he had used that line on had her back to him, allowing him to roll his eyes as he leaned against the bar top, waiting for her reaction. He was actually hoping for a negative response, considering the woman was doused in so much perfume, it was pretty much overwhelming all of his senses. He wouldn't have even hit on her if it wasn't for Peter subtlety pointing in this direction.

He figured Peter had finally taken pity on him – or at least got tired of watching him embarrass himself (this was the fourth club they'd been to after all) – and pointed out his potential mate.

I suppose I could get used to the perfume, he mused. Or at least get her to ease up on it, he amended as he caught another whiff and did his best to fight back the swell of venom in his eyes. He scanned the back of the woman's tight black dress. Her hips are a little leaner than I'd like, he noted disappointingly as she began to turn. But her ass is... HOLY HELL.

He reared back in horror as he was presented with her front, his eyes immediately zeroing in on the subtle five o'clock shadow on their jaw that would be practically imperceptible to human eyes, thanks to the foundation they had caked on.

But he definitely wasn't human.

And this definitely wasn't a woman.

"Ha!" his deep voice boomed as he wobbled uncertainly in the high heels he wore. "I told those bastards I could get hit on if I dressed like a chick. Guess who owes me a thousand bucks!" his crowed, pointing victoriously at a group of similarly aged guys who managed to look both amused and pissed off at the same time.

Jasper backed away, laughing uneasily. As much as he wanted to tell this girl... guy... that he had been put up to this, he doubted it would do much good at this point. He decided to go on the defense instead. "You dressed up like a chick to win a bet?"

"Don't look at me like that dude," the guy/girl replied as he flipped the hair of the long blonde wig he wore. "Remember, you hit on me."

Trust me, Jasper thought as he tried to leave with as much of his tattered dignity as he could, cursing his vampire memory the entire way. I'll never forget.


Jasper couldn't believe he was actually about to do this.

"Mind if I Slyther-in your Chamber of Secrets?" As the last word of the Harry Potter pick-up line rolled off his tongue, he was forced to clench his hands tightly enough to hurt, lest they reach into his mouth and rip out the fleshy organ for even uttering such BS.

"Mmm..." the curly haired female purred, swirling her tongue ring around in her mouth. "I don't think I mind at all sexy." She trailed her hand down the black corset she wore until she reached the waist of her equally tight black skirt. Gently pushing down the waistband, Jasper stared in horror as a tattoo proclaiming: CHAMBER OF SECRETS with an arrow pointing to her... lower regions was revealed.

The hand not holding down her waistband reached up to flick his chin length blond hair. "It's not quite the right shade, blondie, but I'll let you play the Draco to my Hermione."

Taking a step back, he schooled a look of fake awe on his face and pointed over her shoulder. "Hey, isn't that the guy from Harry Potter?"

"Where?!" she exclaimed, whirling around excitedly.

He stealthily took off when she turned around, silently promising that, not only would he be crossing off every Harry Potter themed pick up line on the list, but if Peter was so determined to have a scar on his forehead, he was gonna give him one.


This is it, he decided as he crossed the threshold of the small, slightly more intimate bar, Peter and Charlotte close on his heels. This is the last one.

It was still relatively early in the evening, just a little before 1am, but this had been the tenth place they'd been to since they'd left the house and by this point, he had hit on a total of 20 woman – and one man – and been given the brush off each time. And, after five consecutive hours of this, he was starting to feel the effects.

Yes, he might have been anti-social – in his defense, anyone who had went through what he did would be – but he had never had issues with his self-esteem. Despite his past, his occasional struggle to control his thirst and his numerous scars, most days he was pretty confident with the man he was.

Until now that is.

He eyed Peter speculatively as he and Charlotte passed by him and searched for an empty booth that allowed them a good view of the bar. Whenever he got particularly bored – which was wont to happen when you were a vampire – he'd initiate some sort of tomfoolery – usually a prank war – and Jasper was beginning to wonder if that's what this was.

His heart twinged slightly at the thought that the man he trusted with his life would play him like that and, almost as if sensing it, Peter's muddy brown eyes found him through the dark bar and he shook his head, a slightly sad smile touching his lips. Jasper jerked out a sharp nod at the subtle assurance, before tilting his head curiously when Peter broke eye contact to dart a quick look at the bar and then back at him, a small, smug smile quirking his lips.

Jasper followed his line of sight and scanned the bar, dismissing the three men – if Peter thought he was knowingly going to hit on a man, he had another thing coming – that sat on the stools and zeroing in on the only female that was currently in the vicinity that Peter had looked. She was balancing on the edge of her stool, her body angled in Jasper's direction, and wore a bored look on her carefully made up features. A brightly colored drink was clasped loosely in her left hand and she wore a tight, bright pink dress which looked to be at least two sizes too small and clashed horribly with the strawberry-blonde color of her hair.

Jasper sighed. Clearly Peter wasn't done messing with him yet, because that girl – even with her ample chest on display and long, coltish legs stretched out in front of her – did absolutely nothing for him. Regardless, he slowly crossed the bar towards her, only to stop when a faint scent – almost like peaches – reached his nose.

Tilting his head towards the smell, his eyes were drawn to the darkest part of the bar, where he belatedly noticed another woman sat. One long, pale leg (exposed thanks to the dark purple dress she wore) swung gently back and forth and Jasper was bemused to see that, instead of a pair of heels, she was wearing a worn pair of similarly colored Converse sneakers.

Intrigued, he wandered closer, admiring the way the dim lights picked up the gold strands in her otherwise dark brown hair. The peach scent grew stronger the closer he got, and Jasper was certain that if his heart could beat, it would be pounding.

Before he lost his nerve, he slid into the empty stool beside her, giving a cursory glance at the pale skin of her face he could see through the dark, silky curtain of her hair and opened his mouth. The (thankfully) last line on Peter's list required some carefully crafted build up before hand.

"Hey there, darlin'," he began, laying it extra heavy on the Texan drawl, "how –" Jasper stopped mid sentence and thunked his forehead on the bar top. "I can't do it," he groaned.

He felt a small hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay?" a soft, husky voice whispered.

His response was muffled. "No, I'm really not."

"This have anything to do with the jackass grinning at you in the corner?"

He turned his head enough to see that, indeed, Peter was staring at him, but that his grin had slipped off his face at the insult. "Serves you right, jackass," he muttered, knowing full well that Peter could hear him.

He heard her pause as she took a sip of whatever was in her hand. He sniffed the air. Whiskey if he wasn't mistaken.

Girl has good taste, he thought.

"What's he making you do anyways?"

"Making me hit on women," he complained.

"Making you?" she repeated and he could hear the smile in her voice. "That doesn't sound too bad."

"What the worst pick up lines ever," he clarified, elevating his voice to a mocking girlish whine on the last word.

She laughed lightly. "Struck out a lot, huh?"

"Let's put it this way, darlin', if this was bowling, it would have been a perfect game."

"Looking the way you look, I find that hard to believe," she murmured under her breath. He grinned at the compliment; even if it was supposed to be unheard. It worked wonders towards healing his fractured ego. "Well," she said gamely and he heard her throat muscles working as she took another sip, "lay it on me, cowboy."

The playful lilt of her words, along with the nickname, encouraged him to finally lift his head and face her fully. His breath hitched when he got his first real look at her.

She was exquisite.

He noticed her eyes first. They were dark brown– almost an exact match to her hair – and sparkled with humor and a genuine openness that he had never really come across before. They were set in a thin, slightly heart shaped face with pale skin – enough to be considered porcelain – dusted with pink high on her cheekbones. But not by artificial means. Jasper suspected it was a flush from the warmth of the whiskey she had one dainty had wrapped around, her green polished nails tapping lightly on the glass. In fact she didn't appear to be wearing any makeup other than a thin layer of clear lip gloss, which immediately drew his attention to her pouty – and undeniably biteable – lower lip.

The dress she wore dipped slightly in the front – just enough to show a hint of her cleavage – and a silver necklace, with a small, amethyst moon dangling from the end of it, rested just below her collarbone.

"Cowboy?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

The pink in her cheeks became more pronounced as her lips curled up into a shy smile. "I can hear the drawl in your words," she admitted. "Sounds like you got a little southern in you."

Jasper chuckled wryly. If only she realized what a perfect segue she'd given him for the dreaded last line.

"Are you sure you wanna hear it? It's pretty terrible."

She nodded.

"Promise you won't hit me?"

She grinned and crossed her fingers over her heart.

He sighed. "Pretend that southern comment was the last thing you said."

She nodded again, leaning slightly towards him with intrigue and causing the thick waterfall of her silky brown hair to spill over her shoulder and lightly brush his arm.

He shivered at the sensation and tilted his lips in a flirtatious smile – genuine this time despite the warring embarrassment of what he was about to say. "Do you have a little southern in you?" he asked, smiling weakly when she shook her head. "No? Would you–"

"– like too?" His eyes widened when they finished the come on simultaneously, a large grin on her pouty lips.

Her hand rose to said lips, clasping over them to muffle her giggles. "Sorry," she sputtered. "I couldn't resist. Were they all that terrible?"

Jasper felt relief rush through him when she didn't run, didn't look disgusted and, taking a quick check of her emotions, was still attracted to him – even more attracted to him it seemed.

"Worse," he confirmed with a grin.

"And it was you friend that put you up to this?"

"It was getting pretty close to ex-friend for a while."

"But not now?"

Jasper met her warm chocolate eyes steadily. "No," he said softly. "Definitely not now."

Her eyes lowered, that same blush staining her cheeks. Her emotions were suddenly awash in nervousness before being replaced by resolve just as quickly.

"Is it alright if I try a line now? Granted, it's nowhere near as clever as yours," she teased. "Some might consider it pretty bland."

"Try me."

She twisted in the bar stool until her knees were touching his. Jasper could feel her body heat through the thick fabric of his jeans. She raised her right hand and the dim lighting glinted off a thin silver bracelet with a small, silver swan charm dangling from it.

"Hi, I'm Bella. Bella Swan."

He raised his own hand to engulf hers and traced his thumb gently over the small trinket, grinning at the significance.

"It's nice to meet you, Bella," he murmured, not letting go of her hand. "I'm Jasper Whitlock."


"Wasn't this all a bit excessive?" Charlotte mused, twirling her finger around the rim of her untouched wine glass.

"What do you mean?" Peter asked innocently.

She gestured towards the couple that were clearly enthralled with one another. "Well, that's her, right?" For his sake it better be, she thought sourly.

She had been ready to pull the plug on the whole thing hours ago, but Peter had insisted she trust him. Only because she had desperately wanted Jasper to find his other half – because, really, no one deserved it more than him – and knew that Peter did too, did she reluctantly agree to it.

But it she had been hard pressed not to tear into those females, and her mate, for slowly putting that look of doubt – doubt in himself – in his eyes.

"Is it?" he said in that smug, 'I told you so' voice that never failed to get on her nerves.

There was a dull crack as Charlotte kicked his leg under the table.

"Ow," he complained sullenly, rubbing the spot her foot had connected with. "Was that really necessary?"

Charlotte smiled benignly. "What do you mean?" she mimicked. She laughed when he pouted and pressed a swift kiss to his lips. "I promise to kiss it better when we get home."

"Well, in that case, I'm pretty sure your foot grazed my crotch."

Charlotte sighed loudly and closed her eyes. "One...two...three..."

Yeah, so any HP fans will probably be like, 'It should be RON and Hermione in that pick up line'. Yeah, no... no it shouldn't. I hate Ron almost as much as I hate Edward.

Like PPDPUL, I wanted Jasper to do a LOT more lines, but, when it comes down to it, no woman would really turn down Jasper, cheesy lines or not. Am I right? :D