A/N Stephenie Meyer owns The Twilight Saga, its characters and everything else. I merely own the laptop on which I wrote this.

I actually wrote this story right about a year ago as a Christmas gift and thought it would be fun to share this bit of holiday cracky Twislash with other fic readers. Ho, ho, ho!

I could be sleeping right now, but no. Alice made sure to pounce on my bed at the fricken butt crack o' dawn – a.k.a. 10:30 – insisting I take her to Newton Olympic Outfitters. So, here I am, the last in a long line of tiny hellions...er...children waiting to catch a word with the store Santa Clause before he goes on his lunch break. The store is so freakin' crowded that I can't see anything more than a ridiculous candy cane throne and the top of a Santa hat.

Alice is my little sister. Alice is six. Alice is hyperactive. Alice has consumed three candy canes in the past ten minutes.




"What are you gonna ask him for, Jazz? I want a Tinkerbell outfit, a makeup set just like Mommy's, a magic 8 ball, the new Feed Me, Change Me dolly, and I want a..."

Make her stop. Someone make her stop.

"Alice. Alice...Alice? ALICE!"

Her chattering comes to a grinding halt and she looks up at me with innocent doe eyes. "What?"

"If you could calm down for about 25.6 seconds, I'll take you out for ice cream later." I mentally add that it would be sugar-free, because I don't want my name splashed on tomorrow's headlines.


That might make my life difficult later on.

I hear tiny indiscernible noises coming from her and I realize she's literally counting off the seconds until she can safely open her mouth again.

"Oh my God, are they giving him the entire inventory log of Toys-R-Us or something?" I grumble.

The mama standing in front of me heard me and looks over her shoulder to glare.

"What?" I ask, making no attempt to hide my hostility.

My head is pounding, my stomach is growling, and I'm really cursing out my mother – with all the love in my heart, of course – for insisting I be the one to take Alice to see Santa today.

I wouldn't have been internally complaining so badly if she wanted to go to the mall in Port Angeles. That would at least have given me something to look forward to when we were done. I could have checked out the music store, maybe bought a new pair of jeans, accidentally left my sister in the toy store...

For some reason Alice was insistent on coming to Newton's. I feel bad for the sorry S.O.B. that got the honor of playing the big guy.

As the crowd begins to thin out, and we get closer, I finally get a peek at said sorry S.O.B.

Christ wearing corn rows! It's Edward!

Edward Makes All The Girls Happy In The Pants Cullen.

All the girls, and, well, me.

Yes, I have a thing for Edward. No, I don't share that information with anyone. Yes, I'm quite jealous of everyone who has had the opportunity to sit in his lap this morning.

Okay, that's rather sick. They're all kids. But still. I would love dearly to sit on his lap.




Holy crap, I need to stop! If someone notices the frazzled guy in a long line of kids with a boner, the headlines tomorrow will be altogether different.


It's finally Alice's turn and she throws all her manners out the window, hurtling herself into Edward Clause's lap and begins to run down her list.

Edward's donned in a cheap red and white velvet costume, presumably stuffed with a pillow or something else that resembles a sad attempt at a bowl full of jelly, and he has what looks to be a dead white rabbit wrapped around his face and a ridiculous hat on top of his head.

Okay, so the hat's not ridiculous. I can totally go with him wearing the Santa hat.

And nothing else, but that's beside the point.

What's important is that his beautiful green eyes are looking at my sister in confusion and amazement at the words that spill effortlessly from her mouth as she names off all 762 items on her wish list in less than 45 seconds.

"That's a talent few could only hope to possess," I note with a smirk.

"I believe it!" Edward answers, his words muffled by the dead white rabbit. Focusing his attention back on Alice, he asks, "Have you been a good girl this year?"

They both ignore my snort as she nods enthusiastically, beaming at Edward Clause and fluttering her lashes for effect.

I gripe about her being an annoying little sprite, but she truly is adorable. I wouldn't trade her for the world. Well, I might trade her for a new Gibson if she's not careful, but, no, I wouldn't do that.


I'm brought out of my thoughts by Alice hopping off Edward's lap and squealing, "Your turn, Jazzy!"

"Excuse me?" I squeak.

"It's your turn to sit on Santa's lap and tell him what you want for Christmas!" she declares.

She doesn't say it, but the "duh, Jazzy!" is implied.

"Um, I don't think so, Allie," I answer, clearing my throat.

Edward's raised eyebrow is challenging, and I try to challenge him right back, but I have a feeling the look is more constipated than challenging, which makes me want to leave even more than I originally did.

"He probably doesn't want to because he knows he's been a bad boy this year," Edward Clause suggests, his eyes full of mischief. Or it could be annoyance. It's hard to tell his emotions with the dead rabbit on his face.

Cocking my head to the side, I ask, "Do I strike you as a sitter of jolly elf laps?"

That sounded so much better in my head.

"How would Santa know what to bring you unless you tell him?" Alice asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

A chuckle drifts out of the dead rabbit and Edward Clause pats his lap, inviting me to sit.


Carefully climbing in his lap, I decide to play along and even throw my arms around his neck. "Santa, contrary to what you may believe, I have been a very good boy this year." I catch Alice's vigorous nodding, sincerely wanting Edward Clause to believe me.

Closing my eyes for a second, I envision Edward in my bedroom wearing nothing but a pair of red and white striped briefs putting on a little show for me, running his fingers through his messy copper hair and flashing those fricken pretty green eyes at me as he rolls his hips, all but begging me to pull him into my lap.

I lean in close to whisper in his ear, and to not give Alice any reason to hold anything over my head later when our mother asks how things went today.

"I have a thing for green-eyed redheads with tight bodies. So if you could bring a beautiful redhead with green eyes and a hot bod to my house to perform a strip tease and give me a lap dance, that would be super."

Pulling back, I look at Edward's wide-eyed expression. "That's um...a tall order, Mr. Whitlock."

I haven't even realized that Alice is already at the front of the store, waving at me to leave with her.

"Santa's got connections, though, right?" I ask, hopping up. "So, remember: red head, green eyes, strip tease, lap dance."

Not giving him a chance to respond, I give him a sarcastic two-thumbs-up and bolt for the front of the store.


It's been almost two weeks since I took my baby sister to see Edward Clause and I think I'm relatively safe from any sort of confused backlash since Edward hasn't reacted any differently toward me at school. I've been watching him more than usual, wanting to see if he in any way figured out that I was actually referring to him, or if I was vague enough in my description where he simply thought I was being a smart ass requesting he facilitate a bootie call with one of the popular chicks at school.

The latter makes me shudder, but that conclusion would at least keep others from wanting to beat the crap out of the closeted band geek who made an inappropriate request of one of the Forks High Elite.

I'm completely and totally by myself at home with my dad at work, and mother and sister out Christmas shopping, so I've decided to catch up on some much needed nap time, sprawling out on my bed. Like almost every other time I'm preparing for some shut eye, my mind conjures up images of Edward. Only now, those images involve Edward in his candy-striped undies wearing a Santa hat.

Just as he slips his hands into the waistband of his briefs, my cell phone buzzes. I grumble, both at having my fantasy interrupted and at the fact that I don't recognize the number.

Green-eyed redhead coming right up – EC

Holy crap! EC? Edward Cullen? How did he get my number? And he-

There's someone knocking on the door. Oh, my God, there's someone knocking on the fricken door!

Pulling on a pair of jeans, I dash out of my room and practically slide down the banister in my attempt to get to the front door faster. Not even bothering to check the peep hole, I yank open the door with a huge ass smile on my face.

A smile that doesn't last long at all.

I'm met with a grinning Victoria, wearing a trench coat. She gives me a wink and it's all I can do to not slam the door in her face.

"So," she says, pushing past me through the door and into the foyer, "by the sudden change of expression on your face, that would mean I am not exactly the person you expected to see on your doorstep, wouldn't it?"

Victoria. A beautiful redhead with green eyes and incredible curves. I. Am. Not. Interested.

To my horror she opens up her trench coat and tosses it on the couch.

Oh. She's dressed.

Thank God.

Making herself at home on the couch, she props her feet up on the coffee table.

"Can I help you, Vickie?" I ask. I'd really like to just ask her to leave, but I was raised with some manners.

"A little birdie told me that you requested something very specific for Christmas."

If she thinks I'm gonna take the bait, she's got another thing coming.

"If memory serves me correctly, that birdie said you wanted a redhead with green eyes and a hot bod to come to your house and perform a strip tease and a lap dance." She looks at me for several seconds. "Ring any bells?"

"A few. The trench coat was a nice touch, by the way."

"Thank you," she replies with a stunning smile. "But as you can see," she says, gesturing to her plain Jane t-shirt and jeans ensemble, "I kinda had a feeling that little birdie had the wrong green-eyed redhead."

"I said that to him as a joke. I never suspected that he would follow through on it, and I mean absolutely no offense to you, but no, you're not the green-eyed redhead I had in mind."

Standing up, she walks over to me, and gets right in my face. I never realized how freaking tall she was!

"Absolutely no offense taken, Jasper." She pinches my cheek before giving me a gentle pat. "You are so adorable. Such a waste," she says with a shake of her head.

"A waste?"

With a sigh, she gives me a girly finger wave and lets herself out.

A tiny wave of panic washes over me, because I know she knows, and I have no way of knowing what she would do with that information. What would she tell Edward?

Monday could prove to be quite difficult.


Oh, my God! What the hell is making that noise?

With a groan, I roll over onto my back and I hear it again. Someone is knocking on my door and calling my name. That someone would be Dad.

"Come in." I'm not sure if he heard me since I pulled the covers over my face before I said it.

"Jasper, why are you still in bed? We're about to leave for the skating rink and you haven't even showered."

I've got bigger things to worry about than ice skating, Dad. Like, how to keep from getting the crap kicked out of me on Monday when everyone finds out about my penchant for peen.

"I'm not going, Dad."

"Everything alright?"

"Super-d-duper!" I give him a thumbs-up from beneath the covers.

He laughs. "Well, don't stay in bed all day. See you in a few hours."

When he shuts the door, I heave a sigh of relief and roll over, burying my face in the pillow. I don't know what stops me from screaming into it when someone knocks on my door again. The door opens and I flip back over, glaring at the intruder.

"Actually, you might want to get up right now since you have company."


I raise my eyebrow at him.

"I didn't know you and the Cullen boy were friends. Anyway, he's on his way up."

Cullen boy? Christ playing beer pong, Edward's here?

Dad leaves my room and shuts the door, but I can hear his voice. "You might want to give him a couple moments, Edward. The bum is still in bed at quarter till 11."

"Oh, no. I knew I should have called, I'll just come back later."

"You'll do no such thing. He needs to be up anyway."

I'm already just outside my door, hopping around as I pull my jeans on over my boxers. "I'm up, I'm up! Just gimme a second!"

I catch Edward's bewildered expression on the stairs for just a moment before I make a mad dash for the bathroom. I take care of business and hurriedly brush my teeth, then swipe on some deodorant.

I want to be somewhat presentable before I get my butt kicked, after all.

Just as I give up on my comb, I hear my mother call out, "You boys behave yourselves! Love you, Jazzy!"

Sweet baby Jesus in a hot air balloon.

"Love you, too, Mama!" I hope she doesn't hear the groan that follows the sentiment.

I take a few deep breaths before opening the door, and those breaths are immediately sucked free from my lungs when I see Edward leaning against the wall opposite of where I'm standing.

"Hey," I croak.

"Hey." His voice sounds about as hoarse as mine.

"I, uh…I'm sorry I didn't respond to your text yesterday."

Looking down at his feet, he toes the carpet. "Mind if we have this conversation in your bedroom?"

Shrugging, I turn and walk toward my room, hearing him follow behind me. He shuts the door behind him, and I worry about how bad this butt kicking is going to be if he doesn't want to risk anyone coming in and bearing witness.

"So, um…" he clears his throat as he pulls at the top button of his gray pea coat. The garment would be pretentious as all get out on anyone else, but on him, it looks regal. Hot as hell. "Yeah, so, Victoria informed me that I didn't have the right green-eyed red head yesterday."

Well, you see, Edward, I prefer my suitors without cooters.

"It's the thought that counts, though, right?" I ask.

"Green-eyed redheads are in short supply in Forks, I'm afraid."

"There's not many, no."

"Aside from Victoria, there's Tanya, but she's more blond than red."

"Edward, I was messing with you, okay? I didn't expect you to follow through on such a thing."

He cocks his head. "Santa takes his gift requests quite seriously."

"Okay, what exactly did Vickie tell you? I mean, are you purposely being vague and trying to make me spill my guts or are you here to give me a beat down? Frankly, I'd like to just settle this so I can go back to bed. I'm tired and Monday is probably gonna be an epically crappy day for me."

"Why on earth would you think I was here to give you a beat down?"

"Um…because I'm gay?" Holy hell, I just said that out loud!

He nods…and that's it.

"Don't look so surprised," I scoff.

"Do you have somewhere I can dock this?" he asks, holding up the iPod that he took out of his pocket.

I suddenly have a vision of that scene in the Iron Man sequel, where Tony Stark asks the DJ at his birthday party to, "Gimme a fat beat to beat my buddy's ass to!"

This won't be fun at all.

Not waiting for me to answer his question, he positions my ancient desk chair in the center of the room, then heads over to the shelf with my iHome to dock his MP3 player.

"Have a seat, Mr. Whitlock."

I raise my eyebrows in confusion. "Excuse me?"

The opening licks of some sultry, bluesy song drifts through my speakers. I like it. I like the look in Edward's eye even more when he turns around to face me, releasing the buttons of his coat as he tilts his chin toward my chair.

Holy crap…is he gonna…?

He tosses his coat on my desk and I hastily sit down on the chair. If I had plopped down any harder, I would have probably broken the dang thing.

Edward's black t-shirt is practically painted on his torso and it stops about two inches shy of the waistband of his jeans.

I see London.

I see France.

I see dark green underwear!

As an electric guitar breaks through the acoustic melody, Edward raises his arms, bending them at the elbow, exposing his triceps to me as he swivels his hips. His hips are quite hypnotizing, and I'm pretty sure my head is following the same rhythm they sway to, since my eyes are fastened to the sliver of skin between the top of his underwear and the hem of his t-shirt.

I hear the most pitiful whimper and when Edward's eyes suddenly snap open, I realize the whimper came from me.

"I'm sorry. That sort of slipped." With a wave of my hand, I urge him to continue. What I really want to do is a little jiggy happy dance in my chair…right up until he reaches for the hem of his t-shirt and starts to drag it up his body, exposing pale, muscled belly to me. Forget the happy dance. Right now, I want to get up, walk across the room and play connect-the-dots with the little freckles on his skin with my tongue.

When his shirt reaches his chest, I see his nipples are hard. His flesh is goose bumpy and his freaking nipples are hard! I almost whimper again when I realize I am in the same exact state, and I have to fight the urge to jump up and shout, "Halle-fricken-LUia!" when I conclude that he is aroused, too.

Oh, my God, Christmas has come early. And I haven't been a good boy this year. Nope. Not at all.

The song is really good, and the pulsing acoustic guitar riffs are punctuated with every swivel of Edward's hips. The song is good, Edward can dance, he looks really good with his shirt off and Private Whitlock has decided to do a little happy dance for me since I previously decided against it, myself.

I should be mortified that I have started to palm Private Whitlock through my jeans, but I absolutely cannot help it. Edward lets out a breathy chuckle when he tosses his shirt on my desk to join his coat.

Pointing out the one-man-party in my pants, he asks, "So, I guess that means I don't look as ridiculous as I feel?"

"What? You…you feel ridiculous? You shouldn't! You're so sexy, oh my God, you are very unridiculous. What's ridiculous is how freaking hard I am…and I'm rambling." Crap. "You don't have to continue if you feel that way, I'm sorry."

"You think I'm sexy?" he asks with a shy grin.

"Wh…are you kidding?" My eyebrows nearly fly off my forehead as I use both hands to gesticulate toward Private Whitlock, who is all but barking out marching orders to the million-soldier army chomping at the bit to charge.

Is Edward Cullen blushing? Edward Cullen is blushing, and his skin flushes a deep pink from his cheeks to the top of his chest. Another needy sound slips past my lips as his fingers slide down to the button of his fly. He abruptly turns around and I groan. The groan turns into something resembling a wheeze when I take in the sight of his ass, hugged perfectly in his jeans as he makes a wide, clock-wise arc with his hips. If he were only a few feet closer, I could reach out and grab a handful.

I hear the metallic click of zipper teeth disengaging and watch his hands go to his sides, preparing to push his jeans down over his awesome butt. It was a tease though, because his arms sweep up, his hands going to his hair as his svelte body continues to sway. Piano notes enter the song as he begins to lower his body in an undulating squat, spreading his knees as his pelvis grinds air in a sexy, circular motion.

I'm starting to sweat as I watch him, completely transfixed as I continue to palm Private Whitlock, and my other hand tugs the fabric of my t-shirt away from my body.

"So, hot."

Edward looks over his shoulder with a smirk before snapping up to a standing position, and his hands finally, finally, go back to the waist band of his jeans, pushing the denim over his full cheeks.

Dear Santa, If you could make Edward a bottom, I promise to be good until I'm 90. That perfect butt is just made for

Hello! The jeans are off and on the floor, and only a thin layer of cotton separate my eyes from the delightful swell of Edward's rump. He hesitates before turning back around to face me, and just as the music stops, so does my heart.

Scratch that, Santa! Please make Edward a TOP!

I always thought I had a pretty decent package in my pants, but Edward's is…oh, my Gawd! His thick erection is perfectly outlined through his dark green boxer briefs, and if they were tugged just a tiny bit lower, the head would be peeking out.

Lord only knows what I'd do if that happened.

It's not inhumanly large, but definitely more than sufficient to satisfy whatever need he deemed fit to satisfy.

"How sturdy is that chair?" Edward's normal confident and sure demeanor is completely gone, and I have to fight off the urge to punch the air in triumph for the fact that I might have had something to do with that.

I really want to tell him that I haven't yet had the opportunity to test its limits. What actually comes out of my mouth, though, is, "Oh, God…"

Seemingly satisfied with my non answer, Edward crosses the few feet that separate us and turns to face away from me, swinging a leg over my lap and putting that beautiful butt right in my face.

To motorboat, or not to motorboat…

Nobody ever said that was exclusive to a girl's boobs, but I ultimately decide against it, seeing since while it will be thrill for me, it might kill the mood and prove to Edward that I am a few queens short of a chorus line.

When he finally sits down in my lap, it's all I can do to not hold tight to his waist and pull him hard against me. I'm not one current with proper lap dance etiquette, but I'm pretty sure that it's frowned upon to touch the dancer.

But, oh, how I want to!

I'm sure he can tell I did because there's no denying my arousal that's now pressing hard and needy against him as he begins to grind his ass into my lap.

"Christ," I mutter, struggling not to thrust up against him and struggling harder not to lean forward and suck on his neck.

Leaning back, his whole body slithers against me, undulating in waves as he rocks in my lap and my hands twitch at the sides of my chair. My breaths are harsh pants in his ear and I know that it won't take much more of this delicious torture before I come in my fricken jeans.

Raising his arm above his head, he lets it drop behind him, grabbing the back of my head. I can't stop myself from thrusting against him this time, and the sound of his sweet whimper in my ear is nearly my undoing.

"Jasper," he pants. "Touch me…please."

"Oh, thank God!" I groan, grabbing his hip in one hand and stroking his throbbing erection through his briefs with the other.

"Yes…please…" he rasps as his body bucks in my lap.

I wrap my fingers around the shaft, gripping him hard and I can't stop myself from brushing my lips across his neck. The hand holding the back of my head tightens its grasp, holding me closer and he whimpers again.


"Edward," I whisper. "Do you want me?"

Turning his head to breath directly in my ear, he replies, "Always wanted you. So bad."

Emboldened by his words, I let go of his hip, sliding my hand up his body, brushing my fingertips over one of his nipples.

And wouldn't you know it? He bucks so hard in my lap that he causes the freaking chair to tip backwards.

Yeah. Welcome to my world.

Coughing and wheezing, I see stars in front of my eyes as I try to get my breath back. Edward is panicking, apologizing and falling all over himself trying to get off me while trying to help me up. When I can finally breathe, I stand up and Edward's hands are everywhere, checking for injuries.

"Dude, I'm so sorry, it was reflexive…I…I'm so sorry!"

"'Sall good," I gasp.

I notice something horrible in this moment.

Our erections have both sounded the retreat.

Embarrassment can do that to a fella.

Christ snorting Pixi Sticks.

"Um, so…this is awkward," I mutter, putting my hands on my hips.

"You're telling me?" Edward's yanking his pants back on, and I want to cry.

"Did you mean it?"

"Of course, I did! I said I was sorry."

"No, the other thing. You said you wanted me. Were you just playing along?"

He locks eyes on me, and I go weak in the knees. Walking up to me, he kisses me softly on the lips. When he pulls back he whispers, "Wanna go grab lunch with me?"

"I'll have to think about it."

Pressing his body into mine kisses me again. "Please?"

"Oh shut it. You had me at 'wanna'."

Best. Christmas. Ever.

A/N If anyone's curious, Edward was dancing to the instrumental version of Onerepublic's "Everybody Loves Me". Link to video (shamefully, not of Edward stripping *sad panda*) is on my profile. Thanks for reading!