TITLE: Me, You And Cheap Vodka

SUMMARY: Bella, Jasper, cheap vodka and a night out. Will two good friends become something much, much more? ALL HUMAN

PAIRING: Bella/Jasper


A/N: This has been niggling at me for five days. Five. But when you're stuck in the middle of nowhere and you have no computer, its hard to write. So here it is, my home-coming gift to my wonderful readers, who are, quite frankly, super-dooper and deserve an award for all the beautiful reviews and praise they give me. I love you all!! And yes, I had Love Story on when I wrote this, and it just seemed to fit.

I know American cars have a gear shift thingy on the steering wheel, or something, but that's complicated. Ergo, Jaspers car had to be a European one. The gear stick is situated on the floor, between the seats.

Remember, reviews make me happy…


I leap at the chance when he rings up to ask if I want a singletons night out, just us, away from Edward and Alice, who are so in love it is sickening, and Emmett and Rosalie who you just need time out from sometimes.
"Jasper? That you?"
"Yeah, it's me. How are you?" "Bored, actually, now you mention it. There's nothing on TV, I can't find anything to read that I haven't read a million times and there's nothing to do!!"
"Well, that's good, because I would like to ask you if you would like to come to the official Liquid Freeze Single Night."
"What time am I ready by?"
"Nine. I'll pick you up." He hangs up with a quiet click. I dash off to shower.

What am I going to wear? It isn't that I'm going clubbing. That's easy: minimal clothing. It's because I'm going with Jasper…as in Jasper, as in the guy I've been in love with for…let me see…four years, six months, three days and eleven hours. Since I was exactly 14. I saw him on my birthday, at my party, wearing jeans streaked with oil from where he'd been fixing my bike chain and a t-shirt and I haven't looked away since. Every day, I see him and every day he gets more handsome, and since he turned seventeen, I've been hanging out down the garage where he works, watching him fix cars or, more precisely, watching his arse and his muscles as he works. So it's vital that my outfit looks good, but not slutty, and planned but not as if I've spent hours choosing it.

Not that he'll notice. He never notices.


She's coming. Thank god. I need to get out of this flat for a bit. And it's an excuse to see Bella dressed up.

She's beautiful. Without fail, she's at the garage every day, just after she finishes her college course, and she sits on my workbench, chatting happily to me. About her day, about what's she's doing for dinner, about her family, about her friends. About anything and everything. We could go for hours. It's easy being with her, much easier than being with Edward, Alice, Rosalie or Emmett. Mostly because they're so loved up, me and Bella tend to feel like spare parts anyway. When she laughs, it makes me happy, when she cries, I want to cry with her. And when she hurts, I can feel it. I love her, and she doesn't know. I don't know what I'd do if she ever got a boyfriend. But she never has. It's not like she isn't asked. Practically every guy in the school has been turned down by Bella Swan. They should do stickers.

I love her, and I would die for her, but she would never chose me. Not ever.


The club is rammed. Singles night in Seattle. How depressing that there are so many of them. And I am one of them. Well, at least I sort of have a date. Who has been hit on three times, and we haven't even made it to the bar yet.
"Two vodkas." Jasper slams his hands on the bar to catch the barman's attention. He hands over the cash, not letting me protest. "You can get the next round." I throw my shot back. I need alcohol, and I need it now.
"Oh dear god, that's disgusting." He raises his eyebrow as I shout over the music and throws his back. He shudders as it hits his tongue. I get my purse out and shout the man over.
"Two of your best beers, and give me a bottle of Russian vodka. None of that cheap crap." we make good our escape, going up to the roof. The music is loud enough to party to, but quiet enough so you don't have to shriek to be understood.


"God, that was awful, awful vodka." She hands me my beer with a shudder, and I put the bottle and the shot glasses on the table. There aren't that many people up here. Good. This way, if the subject should arise, and she turns me down, I don't have to join the Bella-Swan-Rejected-Me club.

"I agree." She sits down, and I stare at her for a little while. She is leaning back in her chair, savouring the cool night air on her face. She looks stunning. Her hair is loose down her back, wild and slightly curled, and she carries it in that just-fucked way so few girls can carry off. The difference is, Bella has certainly not just been fucked. As far as I know, her last lover was Edward. It was a drunken night before Alice moved here, and she tumbled into bed with him quite happily. They formally agreed that it would never be spoken about again. The good thing was, both of them were plenty mature enough to remain friends. She shared a bed with Emmett once or twice (both of them are suspiciously hazy on the details) and there was a brief romance with a boy in Phoenix, to whom she lost her virginity to aged sixteen. I know almost every detail of her loves, and she knows all the gossip on mine. We keep each others secrets very, very well, and the group does not discuss it. Anyway, moving away from the hair, which I fantasize about having spread out all over my pillows as I fuck the owner into oblivion and beyond. She's wearing a black satin skirt which stops three inches above her knees and a top low cut enough to show just a hint of cleavage. She looks classy yet clubby, completing her look with killer heels, which I appreciate a lot, because she has amazing legs. She opens her eyes suddenly, and I pretend I'm staring at a particularly interesting plant over her shoulder.

"Edward called me last night."
"They're alright?"
"They're a little bit more than alright. Alice is pregnant. They asked me to tell you, because they didn't want you - and I quote - "to scream like a five year old girl with excitement down the phone."
"Charming. And I do not scream like a five year old girl."
"Yeah, well, I'm just the messenger. But isn't that wonderful?" She looks so happy at the Edward/Alice development, and I can't help but smile at her.
"Of course. A new Edward or Alice. How delightful." She shakes her head at me, but laughs anyway. "No, it's great. But how did that happen? Weren't they being ridiculously careful? And wasn't she on the Pill?"
"Yeah. I think it was just really, really weird. I think he forgot the condom and it was just one of those things. I didn't really ask. But they're happy, and they plan to keep the baby." She looks all gooey and soft when she talks about little children. Alice will never see that kid. Bella will always have him or her. She'll make a great mother some day. And that makes a feeling start in my chest, and I gasp quietly at the force of it. The vision that sprang up in my mind was so clear, so real. It's Bella, sitting in a hospital bed, cradling a baby wrapped in white and then smiling up at me, as she cuddles our daughter close.
"Jazz? You OK?" She looks at me oddly, then at the empty beer bottle in front of me. "You aren't pissed yet, surely?"
"No, I'm fine." What am I supposed to say. I just saw a vision of you, holding our daughter, many years into the future? God, she'd call the mental hospital.
"Well, good. I'm glad." And then the next song starts, and I act on impulse, the alcohol making me braver.
"Dance with me?" She looks at me, and then glances at me. But, clearly, the alcohol and the atmosphere is affecting her too, because she takes my hand as I pull her to the dance floor. Taylor Swift starts to sing as we make it to the centre of the floor.


We were both young when I first saw you
I close my eyes
And the flashback starts
I'm standing there
On a balcony of summer air

As Taylor sings, he takes me in his arms and whirls me out onto the dance floor. He never takes his eyes off me, and I can't make my gaze leave his face. How appropriate this song is. But my thought are hazy as his blue eyes gaze into mine, and I can only focus on him, and the rhythm we dance.

See the lights,
See the party, the ball gowns
See you make your way through the crowd
You say hello
Little did I know

He is beautiful tonight, and even as his hair falls into his eyes and he make to push it make, I grab his hand in a senseless display of courage. I'm aware that I am setting myself up for heartbreak, but right here, right now, with the music and the lights and the alcohol making me braver, I couldn't care less.

That you were Romeo you were throwing pebbles
And my daddy said stay away from Juliet
And I was crying on the staircase
Begging you please don't go, and I said

I hold his hand tight as we dance, and he smiles lazily down at me. We fall into our on little world and just before I step off the edge, I am very aware that he is gripping my hand equally tightly.

Romeo take me somewhere we can be alone
I'll be waiting all there's left to do is run
You'll be the prince and I'll be the princess
It's a love story baby just say yes

So I sneak out to the garden to see you
We keep quiet because we're dead if they knew
So close your eyes
Lets keep this down for a little while

Cause you were Romeo I was a scarlet letter
And my daddy said stay away from Juliet
But you were everything to me
And I was begging you please don't go and I said

Romeo take me somewhere we can be alone
I'll be waiting all there's left to do is run
You be the prince and I'll be the princess
It's a love story baby just say yes

Romeo save me, don't try to tell me how it feels
This love is difficult, but its so real
Don't be afraid we'll make it out of this mess
It's a love story baby just say yes,

Oh, oh

I got tired of waiting
Wondering if you were ever coming around
My faith in you was fading
When I met you on the outskirts of town, and I said

Romeo save me I've been feeling so alone
I keep waiting for you but you never come
Is this in my head, I don't know what to think
He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring

Just as the song is drawing to a close, I become aware that he is singing along, perfectly harmonious with Taylor, picking out the deeper notes, looking dead at me as he asks me to marry him in his song. Well, he isn't actually asking me - but I pretend, just for a little while, knowing the dance will be over soon. Knowing he will let me go.


Marry me Juliet you'll never have to be alone
I love you and that's all I really know
I talked to your dad you'll pick out a white dress
It's a love story baby just say yes

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
We were both young when I first saw you…

I'm setting myself up for heartbreak. I will be joining the Bella-Swan-Rejected-Me club in style. I'll need more than a sticker. I just asked her to marry me, before we've even gone on a date. When the last notes die away, I don't let her go. She rests her head on my chest contentedly. She seems happy to remain where she is. I will kid myself for a little while longer, even though I will pay later. I fold my arms around her, and she snuggles in closer, if anything.

"Are you cold?" It's the only possible explanation. She cannot possibly love me.
"No," she murmurs. She can't…there's no way she is saying yes.
"Are you sure?"
"Positive." I check my pocket for the millionth time this night.


I'm not going to be the one who ends this moment. It's too perfect, and even though I know it has to end, I can't do it. He'll let go eventually. And we will laugh this moment off, or never talk about it. But I will remember it forever, until the day I die. And even though he just jokingly proposed to me, I will never mention it again, because he doesn't want me.

When he lets me go, I have to hide the pain on my face. It physically hurts to be away from him. Especially now.


I can't believe I'm doing this. But I have to know. When you've been in love with somebody for four years, six months, three days and eleven hours, you have to know if that love is reciprocated. I pull the box out of my pocket and drop down on one knee. Her jaw practically hit's the floor.

"Shhhh, Bella, let me get this out." She closes her mouth and nods slowly. "Four years, six month, three days and eleven hours ago, I fell in love with a young girl who I had known all my life. It was her birthday party, and she wearing a little red dress and had a red ribbon in her hair. For four years, six months, three days and roughly six hours, I have been practising my speech. I have daydreamed and planned every facet and detail of the wedding I wanted to have, when I married this angel. She used to play with me every day, and her mother used to scold her whenever she came home, dirty and scratched from our games and our fun. And then her mother started to shout at for getting grease on her jeans, when every grease smudge on her clothes and her face was placed there so every time she looked at them, she'd have to think about me. She used to come to my garage every day after school, and every weekend, and sit on my workbench and chat to me about everything and anything. And I used to keep her there as late as humanly possibly everyday, just so when she came back the next day, she'd scold me for making her late, because she looked so wonderful when she was annoyed. And because she was so damn sexy when she used to vault onto my workbench and sit there all curled up. I have been in love with you for four years, six months, three days and eleven hours, Isabella Swan, and I am enquiring as to whether you love me too, and whether or not you will marry me."


He has officially gone mad. Literally. Jasper Whitlock is down on one knee, asking me to marry him, and I can't talk because I have dreamed of this day for years. I stand there, looking down at him, staring in disbelief, and trying to make my vocal cords work.

After a good three minutes of silence, a spasm of pain crosses his face. He gets up, and turns away from me. He thinks I will say no.

"It's alright," he says gruffly, still with his back to me. Oh God, he's crying. "You don't have to say anything."
"Oh yes, I do, Jasper Whitlock. Get yourself back on that floor. I haven't said anything yet." He sinks to his knee again, looking surprised. "On my fourteenth birthday, my best friend came to my birthday party. He had grease all over his jeans, and a rip in his t-shirt. He gave me a musical jewellery box that played Part Of Your World. I still have it, four years on. I fell in love with him, and every scratch, bruise, and grease smudge just increased that love. Even when he wrecked my best jeans when he spilt a can of motor oil on them, I couldn't get mad at him. Of course I'll marry you, Jasper. I thought you'd never ask." He leaps to his feet, and scoops me off the floor. His kiss feels amazing, and the stars explode in my head and he spins me around as he kisses me.


Would it be cruel of me to put a huge billboard up in Forks, announcing my success to the rejects? Probably. Oh well, the ring will do the job for me. The ring, and the fact that I am never, ever going to let go of her again. I put her down, and slide the ring onto her fourth finger on her left hand.

"Mine…forever…" I whisper, as I take her chin in my hand and look at her. She smiles with breathtaking beauty at me.
"Forever," she agrees, her voice no louder than a murmur, and she kisses me. The people on the roof with us suddenly burst into spontaneous applause. I'd forgotten about them. We smile blandly at them, and then I take her hand and pull her along, out of the club, out to the car, and she slides in. I have to let go of her hand for a while, whilst I get in and start the car, but she reaches out and our hands are resting together atop the gear stick. If I didn't have to watch the road, I'd still be gazing at her. She's looking at me though, and it's like she's memorizing my face, if I didn't know already she could probably water-colour me from memory alone.

The door to my room crashes open as we stumble inside. The man in the flat next door bangs on the wall and shouts something at the full pitch of healthy lungs, but we take no notice. Her hands are busy on my shirt, fumbling with the button. She gives up after a while, too impatient to fiddle with them, and she rips my shirt open with surprising strength. The buttons hit the floor with light pinging sounds.

"I really hope you didn't like that shirt," she says, slightly breathless, as she caress's my chest with her hands, running her hands over my abs. My breath hitches in my throat. "I've always loved your muscles." I capture her lips in another kiss, and help her lose her shirt. She stands in just her bra, a skirt and those killer heels. She looks beautiful, face flushed with desire, panting slightly. She looks breathtaking. She pushes me back onto the bed, and comes and lies down with me. I kiss her slowly. We have time, and plenty of it. It feels like eternity stretches before us, because I could spend eternity just kissing her like this, exploring her. We don't need sex, we don't need kids, all we need is each other and slow kisses and gentle words.

But now, right now, I want her. I have had everything life could possibly give me to make me happy for eternity, but I want more. I want Bella Swan naked, on my bed, her hair spread out on my pillows as I take her to oblivion. And it seems she wants it too. I slide my hands to her skirt, and slide it down her hips, down her creamy legs, making sure my hands leave a blazing trail down her legs. I trace the lines of them back up, slowly, and gently, making sure I memorize every curve, every facet of them. I slide my hands down the inside of them, going back down to the heels. Later, she will be thoroughly fucked in nothing but those heels, but for now, I just want to make love to the woman who I love. She motions for me take my jeans off, as she does something complicated behind her. I slip my jeans off, and step away from them, and look back up. She's naked. Completely. Her perfection nearly makes me cry. As it is, I slide my hands over her skin, feeling the silky softness against my rough, workman's hands. She seems to like it, as she mewls softly with pleasure and wriggles. She puts her own hands on my shoulders, pushing them up and over, caressing my neck, my arms, my back, my chest. The feel of her tiny hands could have made me come right there. But I grab them, to still them. She looks up at me questioningly. I kiss her fingertips, telling her with each kiss that I love her, that I will never let her go. And I kiss her ring, making sure she knows I will love her forever.

I played her like a piano, and she was so finely strung, so responsive under my hands. And when I finally got where I wanted to be, sheathed inside her, letting her wet heat engulf me, her tightness feeling so good around me, I wanted to cry, wanted to tell her that I love her more than words could ever say. But I don't, I just let my actions speak for me. With each thrust, with each groan and moan, with every movement inside her, I tell her. And then, she clenches her wet heat around me, and it's better than anything I've ever felt, and I kiss her slowly, then passionately, and she twists her hands in my hair and kisses me back with everything she has. She brings her hips up to meet mine, and rolls them gently, letting me feel everything, her wetness, her tightness, her heat, I rest my forehead against hers, murmuring that I love her. She whispers something unintelligible back, and then she throws her head back with a quiet gasp, and then shrieks my name for the world to hear.

"OH GOD…. JASPER!" She clenches around me and my vision clouds, blurring, and as I feel her come around me, I have the best orgasm I have ever had, and the bellowed profanity will result in complaints tomorrow morning. She falls back with a gasp, slumping gently against my pillows. I slip out of her gently, blinking to clear my vision, and I gather her in my arms, and cuddle her close. Never before have I fallen asleep with a girl in my arms. She throws one arm over me, and tucks the other under her chin.
"Love you, Bells."
"Love you, baby."


He takes me to the college dance the next night. I wear my ring proudly, and he seems nervous but excited. The shrieks and screams of my friends when they se us cuddled together and the ensuing chaos when the ring is spotted take up a large portion of the night. The DJ finds out, and sticks on Love Story, and the floor is cleared for us to dance. He whirls me around, and our kiss is broken only by the arrival on Edward, Emmett, Rosalie and Alice, who promptly divide us, the boys taking Jasper, the girls taking me.

"Will you be my bridesmaids?" It's the most natural thing in the world to ask the girls I've grown up with. They shriek with excitement, and Alice streaks off to talk to Jasper about wedding plans, whilst Rose stays with me and talks dresses and happiness.


The wedding was stunning. They never took their eyes off each other, and not even my little daughter spoiled anything by crying a the wrong moment. They oozed love, and when they danced together at the reception, even Emmett shed a tear. Bella has always been his baby, and he privately warned Jasper that if he dared hurt her, he'd personally ensure he'd never have kids. Edward went all gooey and melted into a puddle of joy. He's such a soft touch. Rose and I looked good as bridesmaids, but Bella took beautiful to a whole new level. Never before have I seen one woman look so happy. She won't ever have to want, Jasper will see to that. They dashed off on honeymoon, and when they waved goodbye from the windows of the car that was taking them to the airport so they could go to Paris, and Jasper kissed her, I burst into tears, which set little Mary off, which set Rosalie off, which then made Emmett and Edward laugh. We could see Bella laughing as she drove away as Edward tried to juggle a screaming baby and a crying wife and Emmett hugged Rose with one arm and waved with the other.


A year on, and our tour of Europe is finished. As we touch down in Seattle and go through arrivals and see the little group waiting for us, I burst into spontaneous tears. The men handle the luggage, as Alice, Mary and Rose gather round to pat my tummy and shriek with enjoyment. The boys are slapping Jasper on the back, and Emmett makes some comment that gets disapproving glances from the older people in the airport. Jasper whacks him round the back of the head.

"Well, that was…energetic."
"Are you OK, honey?"
"I'm fine Jazz, just a little tired."
"Have I mentioned recently that I love you?"
"Yeah, I think you mentioned that." His kiss is soft and gentle, and I snuggle in as close as the bump will allow. My Jasper.