Welcome to my first multi chaps fic, I'm really excited about it.

A huge thanks to Dariachenowith and Chrissy for their friendship, cheerleading, brainstorming and pre reading, to WendyK for her mad beta skills and support, and Mrs. Agget because she's fun to WC with.

Disclaimer: I know where Edward's prostate is. -But I don't own twilight-

(If you didn't get it yet, this is a slash story, and I can be pretty graphic. If you're underage, well, don't tell me.)

The bar slowly became more crowded during the evening. Despite this, I kept my place at the bar. I had been there for two hours, wondering if I should leave but not really wanting to. A whole different population crossed paths in this place, and I liked it. I drank alone, but I didn't mind.

I could hear laughter, shouts, heated discussions, and pick-up lines all around me. I had seen the way the huge blond guy with the bad hairdo and half-unbuttoned black shirt tried to impress the female patrons, one after the other - with no luck I might add. I had seen the frat students come in, get shit-faced in half an hour, and then leave to go on with their drinking.

The usual drunks were there, too. Sitting in the same position as I was, back hunched and eyes on my glass. The music kept changing from one song to another, but they all seemed to be about lost or unrequited love. Rob Gordon was right when he said that people worried that some sort of culture of violence would take kids over, but nobody worried about them listening to thousands of love songs about heartbreak, rejection, pain and misery. Nick Hornby was a fucking genius. Any of those songs would make a person even more depressed than they already were.

I didn't care about their lost loves. I had no idea how it felt but I'd at least like someone to be happy. The singers couldn't be tonight, it seemed. And certainly not the guy singing now. I had no idea who he was but the emo crap he sang, with only a guitar to accompany him, was borderline suicidal. Even the guitar sounded emo. It probably wanted to kill itself, too, for being used for such a shitty song. Another drink was in order so I lifted my glass, silently asking the barman for a refill.

"Can I offer you a drink?" I was so deep in thought that the voice startled me. I turned toward the woman who had asked me the question and looked at her. Sadly, I think she thought I was checking her out. Her smile became wider as she straightened, giving me an even better view of her plunging neckline. She was good looking with long blonde hair, clever hazel eyes and a nice smile. Her clothes proved she was looking for a good time but they didn't make her look slutty. She wore them well.

Women hitting on me always left me baffled. I knew that my being gay wasn't written on my forehead, but sometimes I forgot that while I had this knowledge, the people around me didn't. I turned back to my glass and shook my head as my only answer.

"Well, you can buy me one if you prefer!"

That made me smile. At least she was confident. It was refreshing, albeit useless in this case. I smiled at her. "I could buy you a drink, but that would be the only thing you'd get from me."

She frowned and gave me a puzzled look before she laughed. "Oh come on! Guys don't buy me drinks without expecting something in return!"

It was my turn to laugh. "That may be true. And it would be if you were a guy." I motioned to her V-neck. "Which isn't the case with you."

She chuckled, shaking her head. "Seriously? You're batting for the other team? You're not just saying that to get rid of me, are you?"

It was my turn to be surprised. "Guys do that?"

She put her elbow on the bar before answering, pointing a finger at me. "Guys will do anything they need to get what they want." She stared at me with a smile and added "I think you're telling the truth. I can't fault you for it; God knows I'd take a cock over a pussy any day."

I raised my glass at her words and uttered an "Amen" before wishing her better luck with the next guy.

"Okay, I'll let you sulk in peace. Sorry for interrupting." With those words, she walked away.

I wasn't sulking. "I was not sulking!" I shouted the words at her retreating form. She didn't turn around but laughed and waved at me over her shoulder. The bartender finally refilled my beer. Some nights were made to drink. Tonight was one of them. Maybe I was sulking after all.

Sometimes it was good to just let go and stop dwelling on all the reasons why my life sucked, despite the fact that nothing really bad was going on. It was just one of those days where I couldn't stand my own intellectual masturbation anymore.

As I was drinking, someone bumped into me as he ordered his drink, making me spill my beer on the bar and myself. He apologized profusely and told me he'd buy me another one. It was nice of him but it wouldn't clean my shirt. I asked the barman for napkins, and tried to dry myself the best I could with the paper towels he handed me. The only thing I actually managed to do was spread pieces of paper towel all over my shirt. I spent the next ten minutes trying to clean them off.

A guy sat on the other side of the L-shaped bar, not far from where I was sitting. I studied him while I picked the paper off my shirt. The way he held himself suggested he'd had a good education. He passed his hand through his short, blond hair, stopping to feel it a little. It was a strange move, almost like it didn't feel right to him. He looked around and our gazes locked briefly, but he looked away a few seconds later when the barman brought him his beer.

He was easy on the eyes and appeared to be tall. His clothes suited him well; they were obviously work clothes and his general attituderevealedthat he wasn't used to them. It was funny to watch him try to sit down comfortably, his hand pulling on his tie every so often.

Miss Can-I-Offer-You-A-Drink came back and went right to him. I smiled, watching her do her little show once again. I didn't think she would have much luck with him either, but it was sort of fascinating to see it unfold in front of me.

I couldn't catch everything she was saying as she was mostly whispering to him, but I could overhear enough to understand that he was refusing her offer. She huffed playfully and looked at me when she realized I was watching her. Her eyes grew wide when she caught my smile. She gave a look at the man next to her and then at me again, mouthing 'him, too' in my direction. I chuckled, nodding my head.

He frowned at us, obviously wondering what was going on and spat out his drink when she said loudly, "I can't believe it! Everyone is gay tonight!"

"What?"

His strangled voice made me laugh, but I shut up as soon as our eyes met. He definitely didn't think the situation was funny.

"You're gay!"

Her accusing voice made me start laughing again. She sounded like a kid whose favorite toy had been stolen. Then they both looked at me, and I stopped laughing once again, even if I could see she was trying to fight a smile. One thing for sure, I didn't regret staying here tonight. I was watching them as if they were my favorite tv show.

"Could you maybe say it a little louder? I don't think the people at the back heard you!"

Oh, yeah, he was pissed. And being pissed suited him well. I couldn't contain my laughter. He sent me another glare which didn't have the desired effect since it only made me laugh harder.

"Oh, don't sound so pissed off. I'm leaving, anyway. There are too many gays in this bar." She smirked, winked at me, and turned around to leave as she had said she would.

I chuckled as I watched her retreat and my gaze returned to the guy again when he started talking to me.

"A friend of yours?"

I gazed at him, taking in his blue eyes and short blond hair. He had beautiful features with strong lines. I watched him hold his beer. Nice hands too, it seemed. I shook my head at my ogling before answering him.

"No, I don't know her. She came on to me earlier, that's all."

"What about the gay comment?"

I snorted and looked pointedly to him. He chuckled at that and finished his beer in one go, motioning to the bartender to refill him. I asked him to refill mine, too, since most of it was on my shirt, anyway. The guy who spilled it never did buy me another beer.

Once we had both our beer, I lifted mine and uttered a "To nights made for drinking!" at him. He moved from his stool and sat down next to me.

"What was that?"

I turned my head to look at him and repeated "To nights made for drinking."

"True," he concurred. "I should actually drink something stronger than beer. God knows I need it."

I wasn't sure I wanted to keep listening to him. Next he'd be telling me his sad life story and I wasn't feeling all that understanding tonight. Although, people's lives were often interesting and if he really had problems, I might end up not hating mine so much.

"Oh yeah? Why is that?"

He snorted into his glass and shook his head before replying. "Everything is so eff'ed up. I wouldn't know where to start."

I mouthed 'eff'ed up', wondering why a grown man would say that, in a bar no less.

"Well then, start anywhere. I've been sitting here for 3 hours, drinking alone, and my shirt reeks of beer. It can't get any lower than that and anything would be entertaining right now."

I knew it wasn't the nicest thing to say, but I didn't really care. The guy looked nice. It was the only thing he had going for him, for now anyway. And I really didn't care about that either. Well, I couldn't say he was unpleasant to look at and, it was true, if he wasn't a handsome guy I would probably have bolted by now.

"It's not really that interesting, I'm afraid."

I chuckled. "If you don't want to talk about it we can just keep drinking."

"Best idea of the day." With that he asked the barman to serve us two vodka, and drank his before I even had time to pick mine up. The bartender refilled his glass which he drank just as quickly as the first one. He wasn't kidding when he said he needed to drink. I didn't count how many glasses of vodka we drank but it was a fucking lot. I watched the lights reflect in the bottles on the shelves behind the bar and wondered why I couldn't focus on one of them. My musing was cut short when he muttered angrily,

"My parents are dicks."

I suppose he needed to talk, after all. I stayed silent, waiting for what would inevitably follow.

"I don't want to sound like a teenager but they don't get me at all, and they're big dicks. And not the kind I like."

I choked on my vodka at his words. He slapped my back twice before asking for a refill and telling the barman to leave the bottle on the bar.

"You'd think they'd listen to me when I say something, but noooooo. They only care about what they want. Who eff'ing cares about what Jasper wants, anyway? I'm 25 years old, for duck's sake, and they barely let me choose my underwear by myself!"

"Your parents choose your underwear? That's sick, man."

I knew I was missing the point, but I couldn't think well in my drunken state. Duck?

"What? No! I do that. But you know what I mean, right?"

I nodded a few times until my head started to spin, then added, "Yeah I know. So your name is Jasper, right?"

"Yup."

"It makes more sense if you're him."

"What?"

We were obviously lost in drunken translation, but I didn't want to dwell on his name. His name? What was his name again?

"What's your name again?"

"Jas-per"

I nodded once more, looking at my glass which he refilled as soon as he saw it was empty. I really needed to cut down on the booze. On that thought, I drank my vodka and got him back on track.

"So no one cares about what Jas-per wants..."

"Nope, no one. Look at me. I'm wearing a darn suit!"

I did look at him since he asked. Well, it was still a nice suit. Beer free, too. I gazed into his eyes and blinked a few times before staring down at the marks on the top of the bar. Darn?

"Jasper doesn't like to wear a suit."

He snorted. "Jasper hates it. He hates that he has to go to job interviews with the five law firms his father has decided are worth working for, just so he can use the degree he got studying law because his father decided it was the only thing worth studying. Before marrying the only girl his father decides is worth marrying and probably buying the house with the eff'ing white picket fence his father decides is the best value. He'll probably even decide what color to paint it and how to decorate it, too."

Was he talking about himself in the third person? That was really weird. Wait. He was talking about himself, right? He's Jasper, so I suppose he was. What? Wait.

"Hold on. Woman?"

"Yeah, they don't know I'm gay, but even if they did it wouldn't matter. You don't mess with "The Plan."

I think his parents are dicks. I don't know what size, but they're dicks for sure. Although he did play their game, I suppose.

"Wow. Sorry for asking but why the hell do you go along with them? You could have said 'fuck it' a long time ago."

"Oh, I did. I told them what I wanted but they dismissed me every time. They talk to me as if I'm a kid. In fact, I'm not even sure they listen to a word I say. And they're doing it out of love, I guess. I have parents who want the best for me, they just don't get that it's not the best for me."

He didn't seem to believe his own words and the face he was making was proof of it. Strange. "Plus I was scared. Where the hell would I have gone if I had slammed the door in their faces?"

"But you're not scared anymore?"

"I guess I still am, but I'm too miserable to let it hold me back anymore. Shit, they made me cut my hair! I loved my hair. But no, father knows best."

I turned my head slowly and looked at his hair. He would look better if it was longer, damn his parents. Then I snickered. Here I was, talking to a 25 year-old who let his parents decide on his haircut. And it seemed the haircut was the last straw for him which was weird since it seemed insignificant compared to being forced to study law for years.

He stopped talking and I contemplated his words. "Why did you study law if it wasn't your thing?"

"Because father knows best!"

I blinked at him again and put my hand over my glass when he started lifting the bottle to refill us.

"But you could have applied for something else."

"I wanted to! The deal was for me to apply to a few universities for different programs. I was accepted to most and even to a few I wanted to get into, but my father paid my tuition to the one he wanted me to go to as soon as my acceptance letter came in. He didn't even tell me about it! The dick was all cheery about it, thinking he had done me a great favor. He only does what he wants, anyway."

I asked for a coke and we stayed silent a little while until he went on.

"Everything is like that! They do things without asking me because they've planned my whole life out with no regard for what I want or need."

"What about that girl?"

"Gah! She's the daughter of one of their friends. I guess she's nice enough but I really couldn't care less about her."

I chuckled. "I bet you don't."

"Yeah, but she's sure I'm interested, because my mother told her so. Although she must be blind because I have never given her any hope. But I had to take her on fucking dates! Dates! With a girl!"

"Well, you didn't tell them you were gay. If you did, maybe they'd find you a friend's son." I laughed at my own words but again, he didn't find it funny.

"No, no. The Plan involved a straight son. As I said, it wouldn't change anything if they knew."

I still thought he'd feel better if they knew but whatever, if he liked living a lie. .. Well, I guess he didn't anymore.

"So what are you going to do?"

"I don't know, man. But it can't go on! They'll have to listen to what I have to say. It's killing me." He emptied his glass again. "And that's not a figure of speech either. It's killing me little by little and soon I'll end up really hating them, and myself as well. I need a darn life!"

I guess he did. My life is fucked up too, but at least I'm my own person. Alright, I kind of hated who that person was but still, I was myself and fuck anyone not liking it. Even if it was me. This internal musing was really confusing, damn it!

"You know, I feel like I don't know a thing. I'm looking at life through a small window. I need to eff'ing know who the hell I am because that's what life is about, right? And for that you need err, you need... what was I saying?"

His words were slurred and I had a hard time catching everything but it did made sense in a way. Even in his advanced drunken state.

"You want to know who you are." Isn't there a song about that? Must be a bad one, that line sucked big balls. I wondered then, how it would feel to suck his. The next thing I knew I was staring at his crotch. I averted my gaze when he turned his head to look at me.

"You know who you are, right? Huh, who are you again?"

"I'm Edward." Well, it was a start, right? I didn't feel like saying much more than that about myself.

"Ed-ward."

The way he said it was weird, but anything coming out of his mouth would be. I'm not sure he was in any condition to even form a coherent sentence anymore.

"Yup. That's me."

"You smell like fried green tomatoes and dirt, Edward."

Oookaaaay. He was really hammered now. Dirt? Seriously? And what the fuck was that about fried tomatoes.

"Yeah, if you say so. I'm sure I do."

He nodded before adding, "And your hair is like the sunshine on the prairie on a warm autumn day."

Where the hell was he looking to find shit like that? "I really hope your alternative to law school wasn't poetry because you suck at it so very much."

"I do?"

"Oh, yeah. John Keats just died a second time because of you."

"John Keats is dead?"

And with that he put his forehead on the bar and started snoring lightly. I decided I should go before I fell asleep, too. Fuck, of course now the tab was all on me. I paid the barman and had just started to stand up when he said,

"Hey, take your friend with you!"

I faced him, eyes wide. "What? But I don't know him!"

"You seemed cozy enough before, and I don't want him sleeping here."

Great, now I had to take him to his place. I put my hand on Jasper's shoulder and tried to shake him awake, but it didn't work. I finally tried to lift him up from the stool by his arms and he jerked, opening his eyes.

"Hey, where do you live?" He didn't answer then, and just put an arm over my shoulders.

'I have no home. I am no one." Yeah, as if that was going to help solve my problem.

"Fuck, Jasper: Where the fuck do you live?" He was finally standing on his own now, but if I let go of him I knew he'd fall. He jerked his head up and gave me a bright smile before shouting,

"I want to be Bruce Wayne! That's who I want to be!"

"That's great, Jasper. Now tell me where you live."

"No, no-no, you have to call me Bruce! I'm Bruce Wayne!"

This little game of his was tiring. I just wanted to go home and sleep and instead I was stuck in a bar with Bruce fucking Wayne.

"Okay, Bruce. Where do you live?"

"Oh, that's easy." Yes! At last, it was fucking time. "You just have to call Alfred Pennyworth." He stared at me then whispered, "He's my butler. He'll help me get home."

I wanted to bang my head against the bar. Only I could end up in such a ridiculous situation. Fine, I'd take him home, then. I wasn't going to stay here all night talking to a Bruce Wayne wannabe.

"Okay, Bruce. You're coming with me."

"Cool. Will you help me fight crime, Edward? You can be Robin!"

I laughed. "I don't think so, dude. I'm gay, but not that kind of gay." He pouted at my words. A pout, damn it! My little cousin used to pout, but that shit wasn't attractive on a grown man.

"You smell like sherry and tree roots."

Again: seriously? "I thought I smelled like dirt?"

He snorted. "Nu-huh you don't. Who said that? Dirt is a stupid smell and whoever said that is stupid, too."

"You're the one who said that, Jas-Bruce."

"Huh? You're sure?"

I didn't answer him because I needed to get my keys out of my pocket. And really, talking to him in this state was a waste of time. I leaned him against the wall next to the door while I fetched my keys from my pocket but he began to slide down. I caught him just in time and pulled him back up again.

"Don't move."

I finally open the door and pulled him in. He turned to me with a shocked face and slurred, "Edward, what the hell happened?"

"Nothing. Keep walking. The bedroom is this way." We entered my room and I motioned to the door on the right. "There's the bathroom if you-" but he was already snoring, sprawled on my bed.

I went to take a leak, and washed my hands while I looked at myself in the mirror. What now? I shook my head and turned off the light before lying down next to him. I didn't even have the courage to undress for the night.

He turned around in his sleep and snuggled closer to me, one of his arms coming to rest on my torso. I should have tried to push him away but it felt nice to have a warm body so close to mine. I snickered at myself for being so pathetic before turning my head to take in his sleeping form.

I wondered for the umpteenth time today what the fuck I was doing.

Thank you for reading! Tell me what you think!