A/N Just me again, dropping by trying my best to keep you entertained...
This was my donation to Fandom4children...
I'd like to give a big thank you, to my good friend Yulliah Meghan her ability to get me motivated and keep me focused on a project astounds me. When I start to whine and complain she treats me like the child I am and sends me to time out, enabling me to return refreshed to task at hand...
I'd also like to thank someone who I've become very close with over the last few months. She might only be a reader to some, and at times a kick ass awesome reviewer, but thankfully I'm now able to call her a friend. And due to her vivid imagination and an eagerness to see it come to life she allowed me the honor to put her prompt down on paper...So this would be for you CVH...love ya loads hope I've done it justice.
And last but not or ever least my wonderful amazing rock my world and sometimes my ass beta Deβra Anne I worship the ground you walk on.
The bar is packed tonight, his ears hum and ring with their loud conversation and fake laughter. He fucking hates this gig, but it's free beer, and the bastards pay the bills, and really, there's little else he can do.
Dragging his stool to the center of the smoky stage - cause God forbid someone gets this sorted before he arrives - he huffs loudly to himself sarcastically thinking, If you want something done around this dive, you better be fucking willing to take care of it yourself! And who the hell are we kidding? These fuckers don't give a damn; they just want him to sing his songs and draw a crowd.
He raises his head slightly, gazing out into the audience, and smirks cockily, cause a crowd he can draw, that's for God damn sure. Attendance is good tonight, so word must be getting out; and by the sound of it, the liquor's gotta be flowing freely. So to say he'll walk away with a pretty penny in his pocket this evening could be an understatement. The thought makes him giddy as he takes a rough head count, trying to quickly tally his take from the cover charge at the door, and praying that his tip jar will be overflowing by night's end.
Hearing the disturbance causes his eyes to dart towards the front door, as he watches the burly bouncer press some kid roughly up against the wall. The scene makes him smirk, but truthfully, does the big guy have to be so rough? Such a douche?
And as he continues to set up, he amusingly watches through his bangs as the shy, scrawny-looking boy loudly tries to explain himself to said douche. He can't hear exactly what the boy's saying, but the expression on the kid's face tells all. He seems to be begging and pleading with the big-ass bouncer to let him in.
And as he exits the stage in search of his free beer, patting his pockets down trying to find his long lost smokes, he glances over as the kid makes his way across the floor to the front, taking a single chair at a lonely table.
He watches uninterestedly at first as the kid takes his seat, but grins to himself as an angry, disgusted look crosses the boy's face, as he roughly shoves his ID back in his pocket. Then his eyebrows rise as recognition dawns on him. Fuck! That's the dude from last week, and if he's not mistaken, some weeks before that.
And as the bartender begrudgingly hands him his free beer with a cocky nod, and he nonchalantly lights his cigarette, he decides to watch this kid for a while. The thought of maybe having a genuine fan intrigues him somewhat. And really! What the fuck else is he going to do to pass the time?
Fuck knows he has time to spare before his set, and it's not like he has anything more important to do, or anyone else to talk to, for that matter. His scruffy unkempt appearance tends to keep people away, and his shitty attitude guarantees that they all back the fuck off - not that he's complaining, mind you, cause really that's just the way he likes it.
Sipping his beer, he glances over the rim of the glass at the kid, who's talking to the waitress, ordering what one can only assume to be a drink, listening as the boy huffs in disgust, again having to fumble removing his ID to show her. Shit, the guy don't look that underage. They gotta be around the same, maybe twenty-two or three, but less facial hair and youthful smooth skin will make it seem that way, I guess. Fuck, it's got to be rough being given such a hard time about your looks.
But as he downs his drink and eyes the bartender for another, he continues to observe. The thought that this guy has been given such a hard time already, and still decides to stay put and stand his ground, is very entertaining to him. He admires the boy's spunk and determination. His shy, scrawny look is very deceiving, and the fact that the guy's got balls enough to argue with them all is unusually fun to watch.
As the bar lights flicker, he eagerly gulps on his beer, noticing the manager take the stage. Knowing that's his cue to start, he takes his half glass with him as he climbs the steps to his stool, listening as the husky, too many smokes and too much liquor voice of the boss yells way too loudly into the microphone, "Welcome, everyone. Happy to see you all here tonight and hoping you're ready to have a good time?" The bar erupts with cheers and claps.
Raising his arms and waving his hands to shush them somewhat, he continues, "OK! OK! Settle down and settle in, for your entertainment pleasure tonight. And because you all seem to have grown to love his sexy, sultry voice, and as some of you ladies have liked to put it, his fuckhot bod, I present to you our resident country crooner, Jasper Hale."
Cringing at the boss's words. Like fuck, really! Country crooner? And the thought of the ladies thinking him fuckhot makes his belly a little uneasy. But he waves confidently towards the crowd. His eyes dart as the loudest wolf whistle hits his ears, shooting straight from the kid in the front row. Raising his eyebrow in question as their eyes meet for the first time, the scrawny, smooth-skinned face turns bright crimson then shyly diverts.
But with the first strum of his old, but finely-tuned guitar, he's taken away, letting himself go. His mind wanders and his eyes flutter softly closed, enabling him to escape and let his emotions take him over. Songs have always come easy for him, and singing has forever brought him comfort, realizing at a young age that it was the only place he could run and hide to be alone with his thoughts, without fear of being judged or frowned upon.
He found it easier over the years to sing of love and love interests, rather than having to actually go out in the real world and work at getting one. The romantic side of happily-ever-after had been destroyed for him long ago, with countless, useless one night stands and abusive, stupid so-called relationships. And let's not forget, cause really! How could we! The nastiness of thinking he has always been an aberration for being gay; no thanks in part to his wonderful, church attending, God fearing, Bible thumping southern family.
As the first song ends and the last long note rings out, he's abruptly brought back to reality as their claps pound loudly in his ears. Granting them a small smile, he quickly finds his escape again, and continues with the next.
Before he knows it, his first half has ended, and placing his guitar ever-so-gently by his stool, he heads in the direction of the bar and a well-earned free beer.
His skin prickles and goose bumps right before he feels the soft, creamy voice wash over him. Turning slowly, he's met with the same scrawny, smooth-skinned kid from earlier. But what takes him aback and steals his breath are the eyes, so clear and honest that they seem to be piercing his very soul. Needing a moment, but only having a second, he turns away, shoots the remainder of his beer and takes a deep, well-deserved breath, clawing for the courage he knows he damn well has somewhere inside just to speak to said eyes.
Finally finding his cockiness again, but unable to make direct eye contact, he addresses the guy. "I don't do requests, kid, so don't waste your breath asking," surprising even himself when guilt sets in, at the furrowed brow and somewhat hurt look on the boy's face.
But his cockiness is short lived and shot to shit once more, as the creamy, smooth tone and sweet mixed with cheap beer breath dusts his cheeks. "I… I… I was just going to ask if I... ya know... I... could... ya know… buy you a beer... or… or something?"
Raising an eyebrow at the kid, realizing the boy's boldness from earlier has suddenly disappeared, and with an expression, he's sure as hell is saying, Are you for real? he gives a long, drawn-out reply. "Orrrrr... something?.Huh?"
Jasper's eyes dart to the boy's lips, cause fuck, why wouldn't they? He's gnawing on the bottom one nervously, and the kids gaze has now found the design on Jasper's t-shirt to be of some interest to him.
With a pang of some uncharacteristic guilt, he places a gentle hand slowly on the boy's shoulder, feeling the need to ease the kid's nerves, but his greedy side really wanting and longing to look upon his blushed, smooth skin and deep haunting eyes full on again.
Leaning closer, selfishly needing the full effect of the creamy tone and sweet breath when the guy answers next time, he whispers softly, "Take it easy, kid! No worries. I was only messing with ya. Really, I swear I was."
And bingo, he is not disappointed as a hushed whisper is returned. "Edward."
Pulling a little back, confused, Jasper questions, "Huh?'
He watches in awe as the boy's eyes take a slow journey up the front of his t-shirt, stopping occasionally to stare and take a harder look around his chest, once again feeling his skin react with goose bumps and slight shivers, as the haunting stare seem to pierce his soul once more. The gaze travels his neck dances across his jaw line, finding his lips cheeks and nose, before coming to rest on what Jasper is now sure is a dazed somewhat lust-filled stare.
Then he's rewarded as the sweetness hits him and he finds he's unable to keep his eyes from fluttering closed just to breathe it all in. He lets his lips form a grin as he listens to the boy's reply. "My name is Edward! Edward Cullen. Not boy, or kid or guy. But Edward! Edward Cullen. And I would really like it if you'd let me buy you a drink before your next set. Plea... please?"
And that's when it really hits him, and hits him hard, that this kid is being genuine. The kid really wants to buy him, Jasper Hale, a fucking drink. And not for the want of anything, or in payment for services rendered, but just because. The thought of just because confuses him - he'd never had a just because drink before.
But as he stares the boy down, his new self kicks in. This kid has innocence and naivety written all over his face, and who the fuck was he to mess with that? What kind of person would that make him if he did? His chest tightens as he realizes it would make him the kind of person that at one time or another stole his happily ever after, and he just can't bring himself to do that to this kid.
So taking a deep, disappointed breath and squeezing the kid's shoulder once more, he decides to save the boy some heartache and try as gently as possible to give him the old brush off. "Listen, kid! Oops sorry! I mean Edward! Edward Cullen. As much as I would love to have a drink with you right now…"
Leaning back seductively, devouring the poor guy's body from head to toe with a knowing wanton stare, he watches as Edward swallows hard, and feeling under his touch when he trembles slightly, he decides he has him where he wants him, so he continues, "I can't. Really, I can't. Go back to your table, kid! Forget you asked. Enjoy the rest of the set, then go home and be happy. Cause believe me when I tell ya, I have nothing that you would want right now, and believe me nothing you would ever need."
As he watches the boy's face turn from what was once glad to now sad, feeling as the once again uncharacteristic guilt sets in, wanting to ease the kid's nerves, he knows he can't, and that it's for the best. He quickly turns, and with a heavy heart and a deep disgusted breath, he takes the stage once more.
He knows the second half of his set is different; he knows his concentration is elsewhere. The escape that he usually found in his songs, for some reason is lost. He finds his mind - and from time to time, his gaze - wander to the lone table and chair in the front.
He watches as the boy's gaze never leaves him, finding himself thinking and worrying about the the kid, or should he say.
"Edward?" No, he shouldn't say, "Edward." Seems wrong, saying "Edward," His name means something now. Thinking 'Edward' makes him real.
But Jasper still finds himself watching Edward from the corner of his eye. He still finds himself wondering what the hell this Edwards thinking of him. Does he now hate him? Does he now think less? Deciding it best to mentally kick his own ass rather that worry about what some kid thinks, he, for the first time in years, continues his set with no form of escape or trouble-free thoughts in sight.
And when his last song of the evening rings out, the crowd gets to their feet, and the lights come up. He takes a deep, cleansing breath for the first time in hours. But as he waves his goodbyes, exiting the stage, he stops abruptly.
Looking toward the lone table, his chest tightens slightly as the sight of an empty chair and half empty glass are all to be found.
So for the first time in like forever, Jasper's week was dragging, for the first time in like forever, his thoughts are not his own, and he finds himself not only thinking about himself for a change. His time is spent thinking of this boy, this guy from the bar. How the hell did this happen? And where the hell did he come from? And why the fuck would such a nice person be interested in a sorry ass like me?
Friday couldn't roll around quick enough now. He eagerly packed up his gear and headed to the bar. He knew in his heart it wouldn't make a difference, and he knew in his head, it wasn't going to change anything. Up until now, he had never given a shit, up until now, no-one ever mattered. But the thought that he might just see Edward again, if only for a moment, or maybe even a glimpse, for some reason brightened his day and made his lonely, sad existence for once seem worthwhile.
Shit! Could there be any more people crammed in here? he thought nervously, as he set up the stage. His eyes kept darting to the lone table and chair in front, which at the moment was way too fucking empty for his liking. But he was hoping it would stay that way for now, not wanting anyone else to occupy it, feeling the urge to slap a reserved sign on it just for that reason.
His routine is not going as smoothly as he would like it to be. He finds his eyes and mind keep roaming to the front door and the lonely chair. Only having a few minutes left before he takes the stage, he is very disappointed for some unknown reason that he hasn't seen the kid.
Taking a step back, he feels the need to remind himself that this is how he wanted it. He feels the need to reassure himself that what he did was the right thing, and that this is how it was meant to be. But as he gulps on his beer and drags desperately on his last smoke, he wonders woefully if it was all worth it. He's never felt this pull before; and fuck knows he hasn't given anyone a seconds thought in a long time. 'So why should he let this kid be any different? Really! Why should he think of even letting this guy in?'
So when the lights flicker and he takes his stool, his heart is heavier than it's ever been. Strumming the first chord letting his eyes fall shut, he sings wholeheartedly into the mike. His ears hum when the bar around him falls eerily silent, as the soft love song takes on a new life and vibrates off each and every wall.
Unwilling to stop and face the consequences, he proceeds without breath to the next slow, painfully honest love song. The whole time, his mind is reeling while his head spins, unpleasant thoughts from his past, lonely thoughts of his present, and maybe even hopeful ones of his future threaten to consume his every thread.
But finally, as he lets the last drawn out note release itself from his lips, he wills his eyes to open and face what scares him the most. And the first movement they are captivated by is none other than that of the clear, haunted honesty of the Edwards beautiful stare. He finds his breath hitches and his heart skips momentarily as he watches him slowly sip on his beer, Edwards moist eyes, drinking him in, along with every word he had just sang.
Climbing from the stool, feeling the need to wipe the palms of his hands down his jean legs, he tries to nonchalantly make his way to the bar. Ordering a beer, and watching in awe as his hand slightly shakes around the glass, he waits nervously, sensing in his belly as the anticipation grows.
But his waiting isn't for long, and his nerves become electric as he senses Edward pull up to the bar behind him, volatile energy bouncing between them. So taking a deep, staggered breath, he slowly turns, trying to cockily grin, but knowing for sure shit that it was failing him. Still deciding to do his best, he pulls smoky air into his lungs as he is the first to speak.
"Well, hello there, Edward! Are you here to offer me another drink? Or should I say... something?"
Fear grabs at him first; the look on Edward's face telling him he might just have said the wrong thing. But his nerves relax a little when he listens to Edward's cocky rebuttal."I don't know, Jasper. You tell me. Maybe you have nothing I want right now! Or for that matter, will ever need."
Jasper smiles widely at the thought of having his own words thrown back at him, thinking amusingly to himself, This kid will be a challenge, to say the least, but should be so much fun to play with. But his amusement is short lived when he sees a leather-clad arm wrap around his boy's waist. Wait what? Hold the phone! What? My boy? What the hell am I thinking? But correcting himself doesn't diminish the fact that he's pissed, and the rage in his belly erupts when he fucking realizes that the leather-clad arm ain't his, and that the tattoo lettering across each greasy finger spelling the word hate on leather-clad arm's hand is oh so recognizable to him right now. If his disgusted memory serves him right, the four fingers of the other hand should spell love.
Hoping he's fucking wrong, he lets his scared eyes rise up the front of Edward's chest. They rest on Edward's awkward glassy gaze, and he senses that the boy's pleading for understanding. But Jasper's so pissed at himself and the world right now, he has no time or even cares enough, to grant him it anytime soon. So as his gaze leaves Edward's haunted green clarity, and looks bewildered and confused at the scruffy chin resting on said boys shoulder, it falls upon the dark and twisted eyes of one James Hunter.
Jasper's heart pounds loudly in his ears and his eyes glaze and fall blurry as nasty fucking memories do their utmost to consume and drown him. Cause as much as he doesn't want to, as much as the thoughts make dirty bile gather at the back of his bone dry throat, Jasper remembers James. Oh how he fucking remembers James.
It's been a while, but really, how the hell can he forget. James Hunter is fucking ruthless, he's a menace to society, and at times a force to be reckoned with. Jasper loathes the fact that he even knows him, but at one time, when Jasper was at his lowest, they had been acquaintances drawn to each other by some fucked up feeling of belonging. Did they fuck? Hell yeah! But then again, who hasn't James fucked?
This thought brings Jasper back to reality; it makes his belly churn and flip. What the fuck is Edward doing with James Hunter? And for that matter. What the fuck would James ever want with... My Edward? He shakes his head slightly, trying desperately to clear his childish thoughts.. He really has to get this His-mine-and-own shit back in order. Edward Cullen is not, and never will be, his.
But as his stare is met with James' cheesy ass-eating fucking grin, his primal protective side kicks in, and he can't help himself but question, "James, what the fuck you doing, dude? How the hell you know Edw... this kid? What the hell you up to, man?"
And as James so cockily pulls Edward closer to him, his dry chapped lips set to eagerly answer, Jasper's eyes dart to the ceiling. He huffs and cusses himself aloud when the bar lights flicker one last time, his cue to get his sorry crooning ass back on stage. But as he reluctantly makes his way to his stool, watching them from the corner of his eye, he smugly notices Edward twist and pull away from James' tight hold, and chuckles darkly to himself as he watches James grudgingly release him as they now make their way to the not so lone table in front.
Even surprising himself, Jasper's' second set goes off without a hitch. Raising his eyes to the ceiling when the lights come up, taking a deep, nervous breath, he wonders how the hell he even got through it. Kicking himself inwardly for being a child, and acting like a five-year old, cause he'd spent most of the evening, eyes glued to the supposedly happy couple in the front row. He couldn't look away; it was like witnessing a fucking train wreck. He couldn't pull his stare from them.
His belly cramped and churned while his mouth ran dry with every touch or look they both exchanged. He knew he had no right to feel this way, he knew he had no claim to Edward, but the thought that he was somewhat replaceable stirred up a feeling in him he'd never experienced before. So as his chest tightened and his stomach somersaulted below the waistband of his Wrangler jeans, right underneath his beloved Everything Is Bigger in Texas belt buckle. Jasper, for the first time in his whole fucking dismal decaying wreck of a life, felt jealousy wash over him.
Leaving the stage on shaky legs, he makes his way to the bar for his last lonely free beer of the evening. And as the bartender hands it to him, his sweaty palm and shaking fingers grab on like his life depends on it. Not raising his head, his eyes unable to leave the glass, he doesn't even grant the guy a nod or a courtesy thank you, choosing rather to stand slumped and defeated, head low and shoulders fallen. But when the undeniable vibrations start at the toes of his cowboy boots and work their way up his legs, shattering his very core, he knows that Edward, not boy or guy or kid, but Edward Cullen, was now in the vicinity.
Unable to face the kid without giving himself away unmistakably, knowing what would be written all over his face, he huffs disgustedly before lighting up another cigarette. Having to lean his elbow on the bar to nonchalantly wipe the sweat from his brow as he feels Edwards warm breath wash over him, he listens brokenheartedly as the kid nervously whispers. "Jas...Jasper th..that... was an awesome set. I like... no loved that second to las...last song, Jasper! What was the na...name of it again?"
Not raising his head, eyes never leaving his beer, he knowingly and coldly replies, "Don't know, kid! Haven't got a fucking clue. After years of singing the stupid things, they all start running into one another. Do ya know what I mean?"
Guilt washed over him once more as he sadly listens to Edward's reply. "Well I don't think they're stupid, Jas...Jasper. I like the songs you choose, cause whe...when you sing... Now don't laugh, please don't laugh... I'm begging you don't laugh please; cause I know this might sound silly to you. But I'm tak...taken away, do you know what I mean? Am I making my...myself clear? Ya know... it's like an escape."
The thrill of a kindred spirit flushes over him, the euphoria of finally belonging somewhere takes hold, and as Jasper sucks a deep breath into his lungs, finally deciding to go for it all and claim his prize, feeling as it nervously whooshes and dances in the pit of his belly, he gleefully turns and smiles brightly at the smooth, youthful, clear green gaze of one Edward Cullen.
His lips part, forming a cheesy grin, eager to answer, then suddenly, as fast as the sensation takes over, all hell breaks loose, and every piece of breathable air is frantically being sucked from the smoky room. He frowns in anger, feeling as his face falls in dismay and his jaw tightens while his eyes grow dark and squint devilishly. Cause no sooner has his joy taken hold and empowered him, when it seems it's riped violently from his very core, and he eyes an overly cocky James Hunter pull up behind Edward. Mind you, my Edward and fold a forceful arm around his chest, bringing the boy to him planting a wet saliva-soaked kiss upon the kid's cheek.
Gritting his teeth and stepping back, holding his breath before he bites his tongue in hate, worthlessness washes over him as all he can do is stand and stare while James Hunter shamelessly and publicly flaunts his desire to devour Edward whole.
Edward blushes madly before stepping away. His nervous eyes dart from the floor to Jasper, but as their gazes meet and are held for a few too long for comfort seconds, Jasper's ears buzz in fury as he hears James' husky, overly drunk ass speak. "What were you two looking all cozy and talking about, huh? Me?"
James leans his head back, releasing an obnoxious hateful laugh. Jasper can only shoot him an evil glare before replying, "Fuck no, James! You know, knowing you is nothing I personally brag about, dude."
Edward's head spins in Jasper's direction, his eyes squint and stare between the verbally dueling men before he shockingly yelps, "You two know each other? You two have met before?"
Raising his hands in surrender, backing off a little, not really wanting to explain in too much detail, Jasper jokingly replies, "Yeah, we know each other. James and I go way back. Like I mean way far back..." Turning to face the bar, he grabs his beer in his shaking hand, desperately wanting this conversation to end, and like fucking end right now if possible. But shit, did he really think that would happen? Not with James Hunter always feeling the need to advertise his conquests. Nearly choking on his drink as he hears James' drooling, incoherent reply. "Oh, Edward my dear son! Jasper and I know each other all right! Don't we, Jay? Jasper and I are old butt buddies from a while back. Truthfully, at one time, Jasper and me couldn't get enough of each other. Isn't that right, Jasper? Fuck me if I'm lying, Pleaseeeee!"
Not turning from his beer, unable to give James the pleasure or satisfaction of seeing worry and concern on his face, Jasper nods sarcastically over his shoulder, and between gritted teeth, he hatefully answers, "Yeah, James, I guess you're fucking right, dude! But that was long ago, buddy, and really! I wouldn't let my dick near you now if my life depended on it."
He listens as James huffs and curses under his breath, smirking cockily to himself as the fucker's smugness diminishes. Chuckling darkly at James' defeated response. "Jay? Why you gotta be like that, buddy? Why so hateful, man? Shit, your sorry ass will never change, will it? One of these days, someones gonna rock your world, dude. And you! Ya blind fucker with your God damn blinkers on, your head will be so far up your sorry ass, you wont be able to see it."
Jasper's chest tightens as he listens to James spit the truth back at him, squinting his eyes and sipping on his now warm beer, he starts praying to anything that will listen that the slimy fucker James Hunter is wrong. But as dread fills his lonely forgotten heart, he knows that he's not.
But as he nods at the bartender, silently apologizing for his earlier rudeness, the guy quietly accepting it and handing him another cold draft, he hears James' drunken seductive tone, not so low and more for show whisper in Edward's ear. " Babe, why don't we get outta here. What ya think, Eddy my man? Wanna take me home?"
Straining his neck, leaning slightly back, eager to hear Edward's response, Jasper breathes ever so deeply, letting his eyes willfully fall closed, grinning widely to himself as he hears Edward's soft spoken reply, " It's Edward! Not Eddy, or guy, or kid, or boy. Just Edward will do for now. So let me grab my coat and piss, then yes, I do wanna go home. But James, it's late, so I'm going home alone, okay? Maybe next time, all right?"
And as he hears Edward walk back to the table, pulling his coat from the back of the chair, and sees the tail end of his jacket as he heads in the direction of the restrooms for the first time in what seems like forever, he's finally able to breathe. But his contentment is short lived. Dragging on his smoke, he feels his skin crawl uneasily as James slides into the spot closest to him at the bar.
He chews roughly on the inside of his mouth as he watches James order another shot, shooting him a nervous look. Raising an eyebrow, he inquires and scolds, "James, really? Don't ya think you've had enough already?" He wants to take back the fucking words once they were spoken, as he listens to James' overly cocky and downright hateful reply. "Jasper, dude! Don't even let's pretend you fucking care, okay? And don't ever question my drinking habits, ya hear me, dude?"
Jasper turns a little flabbergasted and somewhat amused at James' rebuttal. He knows there's no love lost between them right now, and he really knows how much he hates James' guts at the moment, but he didn't think showing concern for a dude's ability to get home safely merited such harshness.
That is, until James finally gets to finish his sentence. " I know you want him, Jasper, I can see it written all over your fucking face. And for some reason, I doubt you're thinking a one night stand or a quick fuck. For some reason, I'm seeing something new deep in those Southern baby blues of yours."
Jasper turns to face the bar again, forgetting that James can still eye him through the mirrored backdrop facing them. Not able to make direct eye contact, he finds amusement in admiring the golden liquid as it spills from his drinking glass between what are now his slightly trembling lips.
His ears hum as the sharp pain of James' words invade them. " Dude, don't even try to deny it. You ain't fooling no one, Jasper, especially not me!" Jasper shoots James a sharp look before letting him continue. "But I'll tell ya right now, Jasper, so listen up and listen good. You ain't fucking having him, cause if anyone is, it's me. I picked his sorry ass up last week as he left here like a stay puppy dog, he promised to meet me here tonight and God damn it Jay! His promise he will keep. And if I can't have you, and I know you've known all these years that I've wanted ya, Jasper. But no, ya never paid me no fucking mind or ever had the time of fucking day to give me. So I'll tell ya now, and I swear to anything that will listen to my sorry ass,as I said before if I can't have you, then you fucking can't have him."
Jasper turns abruptly, seeing red as rage flames in his belly and his eyes blur from unsettled tears, unable to speak, his voice lost in the fear that has just gripped him, his scared stare glancing over James' shoulder as he sees Edward slowly approach. But before he can utter a single word, before his lips can part and give Edward a heads up or a stern warning, James shoots his shot, flings his arm around the kid's neck and cockily waves his goodbyes.
Jasper stands frozen, his knuckles white as his fingers fold around the brass bar-rail surrounding the counter top. Unable to speak, not having the words or a voice, he watches dumbfounded and bewildered as James staggers drunkenly away with a frightened and somewhat intimidated looking Edward by his side. Edward peeks over his shoulder, his green clarity capturing Jasper's heart one last time. And then Edward smiles shyly, giving Jasper a small shaky wave as he mouths the words, "Bye, Jasper, see you next week."
And as the burly bouncer opens the now locked door, allowing them to exit, and Jasper is hit with the rush of cold air and the sound of the pouring rain outside, he turns abruptly, shooting the remainder of his beer. Roughly stamping out the last of his smoke in the ashtray, he takes a deep strangled breath and heads for the stage to pack up his gear and unwillingly head for what he now can't think of as home.
Jasper grants the bartender a small smile as the dude finds it in his heart to help him with the back security door, holding it open a few more inches so he can carry his gear to his truck, having parked it earlier in the back alley of the pub. With his amps, his favorite microphone and stand, his guitar and leads, it takes him a few trips to get it all loaded, making God damn sure his prized possessions are covered with his flatbed's trusty tarp. Soaked to the skin from his darts back and forth, he happily shoves his nightly earnings into the breast pocket of his leather jacket, before bidding the bar staff a fond farewell and goodnight, making confident promises to them that he will have the house even more packed the following week.
Stepping into the alley, he pulls the collar of his jacket tighter around his neck. Glancing slightly to his right, he notices a couple against the wall of the adjoining building getting themselves all hot and heavy from what he can make out. He sighs deeply, but still manages a little chuckle as he watches somewhat shamelessly as the couple claw at one another like their lives depend on it. Taking a deeper sigh, he sadly wishes it was him, but at the same time feeling a little sorry for them having to be stuck out in this freezing rain. He huffs playfully, heading for his truck, having to remind himself that sometimes the urge is so great you just can't wait to get that certain person home.
With his foot on the nerf bar, he pulls himself into the driver's seat, hurriedly turning on the engine and cranking up the heat. But as he straightens and tries to make his sorry wet ass as comfortable as possible, switching on the headlights, with a loud gasp he freezes in awe and shock. Cause not only are the couple still getting it on nearly half fucking naked and now standing in the wake of his high-beams, but he fucking recognizes said couple. It's fucking James Hunter and Edward.
Diverting his eyes, feeling dirty inside for staring, he fiddles with the radio, trying desperately to distract himself from the scene before him. But then having no choice, having to raise his head, he tries to keep his eyes forward, tries his best not to get involved. And as he steps slowly on the gas, he feels his heart break a little more and his will to find happiness diminish slowly. But the masochist in him can't let him escape the need to loathe himself for living. It takes over, and he lets a sideways glance fall upon the horny couple. And as his belly flips and bile gathers sourly at the back of his throat, his chest tightens to the point of suffocation, and he allows his gaze to land on Edward's green clarity.
Hitting the brake with so much force he skids about a foot, cursing madly as he hears his gear fly forward in the bed of the truck, he fearfully takes a second look. Cause as his eyes meet Edward's, the last thing he notices is lust and want, and as the boy stares painfully into Jasper's face, all Jasper can make out is downright horror and fright. Shaking his head, it takes Jasper a few seconds to catch up.
The disheveled clothes, the clawing and scratching, it was never in need or passion. It had nothing to do with being horny and unable to wait, but had all to do with his poor, innocent Edward trying to fight for his God damn life.
Not bothering to turn off the engine, just yanking on the emergency brake, Jasper flings open his vehicle's door and rushes out into the pouring rain. Nearly losing his footing on the slippery road, he tries to steady himself by catching hold of his bumper, desperately doing his best to get to Edward as fast as he possibly can.
Now hearing what's actually going on, the scene unfolding and making more sense, Jasper listens, horrified, to Edward's pleas for James to stop. The slap across Edward's face rings in Jasper's ears, and he hears him cry out when his head comes in contact with the old building's wall, cause, of course, the fucker that James Hunter is and will always be is paying the kid no mind, preferring instead for him to shut the fuck up right now and let him have his sleazy way, as he drunkenly drools, grunts and moans, forcefully trying to remove Edward's clothes.
Pulling James towards him by the back of the head, grabbing his dirty blond ponytail tight, Jasper throws him to the ground, listening as James' head bounces off the gravel drive. But the stupid fucker's so drunk, he's not comprehending whats going on, instead choosing to verbally scold and chastise Jasper for butting into his so-called date.
Jasper ignores the drunken idiot, determined to set his sights on the boy, glancing at a scared and somewhat in shock Edward. His eyes dart frantically over the kid's shaking form, giving him a quick once over, grimacing to himself at the large gash below his eye and crimson hand print on his left cheek, his clothes a mess and in ruins. Jasper hurriedly removes his jacket and wraps it around the boy, gently folding him in his arms.
Unable to stop himself, he comes to a griding halt two seconds short of his truck, finding pleasure in contributing two swift but hard kicks to the side of James Hunter's face and ribs as he lays semiconscious in the gravel dirt of the pub's back driveway. Huffing back a smirk, he realizes that that's where the fucker has belonged all this time.
Opening the passenger door, Jasper helps a trembling, soaked-to-the-skin Edward into his seat. Once again taking his place back behind the wheel and turning the heat up a few more degrees, he glances over at Edward from the corner of his eye. He's not sure what to say – fuck, he's really not sure what to even do next - this territory is all new to him, and somewhat out of his league. If he'd never recognized Edward in the alleyway, if he'd never given this kid a second thought, this whole event would be ending differently right now, and Jasper would be home in his own warm bed without a care in the world.
But that's not how it happened. He's guessing that's not how this was meant to be, because here he is now, on a cold rainy weekend night, sitting in his truck parked in a dark alley, watching out foggy windows as his drunken ass ex-friend tries desperately to stumble to his feet, the heat set on Death Valley temperature, not knowing what the fuck to do next, as a boy - a kid – no, as Edward Cullen sits across from him shaking like a damp leaf, swollen lips quivering like ripples on a stormy ocean and his handsome youthful face tattooed with the bruises that are James Hunter's doing.
Sitting back, wiping his hands along the thighs of his jeans, he takes a deep breath, letting his eyes fall shut, scrambling for the right words to say in a situation like this. Unable to find any, unable to think straight, and for the first time in his life, he curses himself for being such an unsociable, uncaring douche. So with one hand on the wheel, releasing the brake with the other, he says the only thing that pops into his heavy pounding head. "I'm taking you home, Edward, just tell me where to go." Jumping slightly at Edwards quick reflexes, as the boy places a tight vise-grip hold on Jasper's jean clad knee, yelping out a sentence so fast it takes Jasper a moment to play catch up and understand, "No! Please! Not home please!"
Jasper shoots him a concerned look, hoping that Edward will read how much an explanation is warranted. And as Edward's eyes fall in shame and sadness, he takes a deep breath and continues just a little slower than before." I live with my parents, Jasper, so I can't go home. I can't let them see me like this." Raising his green, swollen gaze to Jasper, he goes on, "They don't know where I am, I never tell them where I go. They think I'm out with friends, and that would be imaginary friends, cause if truth be told, I don't really have any."
Jasper eyes Edward with curiosity, wondering how the hell such a nice person could have no friends. Then the memory of their first meeting comes to mind, and Jasper recalls the shy, awkward boy that stood before him. Sighing deeply, placing his hand over the one Edward has let take up residence on his leg, he speaks softly, "Okay, Edward, my place it is then. We'll get you cleaned up and sorted, and after you eat, we'll figure something out, okay?"
Edward raises his face and grants Jasper a small smile, nodding shyly in his direction. And with Edward's trembling hand still held tightly in his, they head for home.
Unlocking the deadbolt and placing a hand on Edward's lower back, he ushers Edward into his apartment. It's not huge, it's not the cleanest, but it's comfortable and warm. Sitting a shaking and somewhat still in shock Edward on the small couch, Jasper proceeds to make him comfortable, heading for his bedroom in search of a clean pair of sleep pants and a t-shirt, thanking to any God that would listen that he remembered to do his wash.
Setting out what he thinks they'll need, he heads for the small bathroom, running the shower water, making sure the temperature is just right. But as he passes the mirror, he catches his own eye, stopping abruptly and being brought up short by the vision. He no longer sees the cocky know-it-all guy from earlier tonight, he no longer feels the cold and hardness in his heart. But what he does see is someone scared and frightened. What he does see is someone wanting and longing to take care of another. The realization that he might just have found the one person he would want to do that with set in and knocked Jasper aback.
Leaning on thesinkss counter-top, he takes a few deep staggered breaths. His shaky hands fumble for the faucets, running the water hot. Sticking his ice cold, rain-soaked, overly gelled head underneath the flow, then searching for the hand towel, he roughly dries himself off before catching one last glimpse in the mirror. Letting his eyes fall, he thinks to himself, You can do this, Jay! You know you can. For the first time in your life, wise the fuck up and think of someone else for a change. So with that in mind, he heads back to the living room, deciding and knowing Edward is that very someone.
Nervously making his way to the couch, pulling up in front of Edward, Jasper shows him a hand. Edward just sits there, unable to move and unwilling to speak. When Jasper gives it a thought, he realizes Edward hasn't really spoken since their conversation in the truck. Wiggling his fingers to get the boy's attention, Jasper states softly, "Let's go, Edward. Get up, buddy, it's time to get you warm and cleaned up."
Squinting his eyes, he sees that Edward is not moving a muscle, so with a little concern and some playfulness in his voice, trying to lighten the mood, he continues, "Edward, let's go! You need a shower and a change of clothes. And really, dude, you're making my couch look a total fuckery. What the hell would the maid say if she came and found your sorry ass still sitting here in the the morning?"
And finally, Edward's tired eyes make contact with Jasper's, and his heart tightens and hurts for the kid, as he notices the boy's haunted green clarity has diminished. But as he takes a deep breath and tries desperately to smile, he makes a vow to himself to set things straight and make everything right again. So he pulls Edward's dead weight into his arms, removing the wet jacket, and escorts him to the bathroom.
Once there, fear grips him and sets in. What the fuck am I supposed to do now? What the fuck is expected of me? Should I stay and help him undress? Or should I leave and let the boy tend to himself? But he doesn't have to worry and fret for long, as he hears Edward's nervous voice echo throughout the bathroom. "Stay, Jasper! Please, will you stay?"
Jasper's eyes dart uncomfortably around the small room, searching for anything – something - to catch his attention. Finally able to answer with a nod.
So as a naked Edward steps into the shower, Jasper, feeling a little wrong for ogling the kid shamelessly, but taking notes of the scrapes and bruises surrounding the boy's torso, knowing in his heart who the fuck he'll be paying a visit to this week, Jasper tries to sit patiently on the toilet and wait. But unable to sit still with his belly flipping and his head starting to spin, he decides to wash himself up in the sink, removing his soaked t-shirt and now-dirty jeans. Picking up Edward's clothes, he tosses them all into the hamper.
And as he turns, he hears it. At first it's hard to make out over the roar and pounding of the water drowning out the softness of Edward's voice, but as he strains his neck and listens closely, he hears it. "I'm so sorry." And then a deep hearty sob, and once again, he hears the soft voice. "I'm so sorry, Jasper." Anger rolls in his chest while rage pounds in his head as he roughly pulls back the curtain and reveals a small, child-like Edward, not standing, but sitting in the tub, soapy hair and body shivering as he clutches his knees to his chest.
Kneeling, Jasper does his best to remain calm, and starts to question Edward. " What the fuck you gotta be sorry for? How the fuck is all this your fault, dude?" And as the boy's green eyes search Jasper's for understanding, he continues, "I wanted to make you jealous, I wanted to make you see me. I've been trying for weeks to get your attention, and it pissed me off that you were never interested. So I tried using James, not knowing that you knew each other, thinking that as soon as you saw someone else wanting me, you would want me too, and I wouldn't really have to deal with the shmuck."
Guilt and sadness wash over Jasper as he thinks about Edward going to such lengths just to get his sorry ass's attention sunk in. Throwing caution to the wind, deciding to fuck it all to hell, Jasper climbs into the tub and wraps himself in Edward, sighing deeply when the boy entwines his lean limbs with his and snuggles into the contours of his side. They lay for a few seconds as the warm water cascades around and over them before Jasper gets up the nerve to speak. "I noticed you. Believe me, I noticed. But I'm no good - really I'm not - and I didn't want to have to pull you into my fuckery, so when I saw you with James tonight - and fuck really, Edward, of all people, you had to pick fucking James Hunter - I thought you had decided to move on, and I let it go."
Looking down on the kid as his glassy green eyes stare back at him, he just can't help himself. Leaning in, he places a soft warm tender kiss on Edward's swollen moist lips, smirking to himself when Edward eagerly takes it a step further, pressing his tongue against Jasper's mouth, requesting entrance. Being unable to resist or unwilling to put up a fight, Jasper grants the boy his wish.
Thankfully the water stays warm as they twist and squirm beneath its flow. Heavy grunts and louder groans fill the small space as somewhat trembling hands explore and devour each other's skin. The steam engulfs them, the humidity causes flesh to flush and become supple to the touch, Jasper's head spins as his desire for Edward finally takes over. Reaching between them, he folds his lean fingers around the boy's hardened length, chuckling into their kiss as Edward growls wantonly onto Jasper's tongue.
Jasper smiles as he happily realizes the weight of the water has released him a little from his briefs. Pressing closer to Edward, he wraps his shaky sweaty hand around them both. His breath hitches at the feel of them gliding as one. His cock hardens ever more when Edward leans back, looks him straight in the eye, gnawing nervously on his bottom lip before eagerly making his appreciation known with a long drawn out "Fuck!... Yes!... Jasper! Please!"
Edward eagerly bucks into Jasper's hand. Jasper shamelessly takes them on an unforgettable journey, squeezing them tighter. Holding them firm, he strokes them both into euphoria. Edward's hands are everywhere. He feels the boy's lean fingers pull at his hair and blunt nails dig into the skin of his chest and back. It's a tug-of-war of sorts, if you will. It's a wanting to belong and knowing that this is right. So as Jasper feels them both swell in the palm of his hand and senses the tightness in his belly contract, he guides them both to orgasm, letting his fingers relax a little. But still wanting Edward to ride the wave, he pulls a long drawn out eruption from the boy's body.
Still lying folded tight in each other, but feeling the water cool, Jasper decides to hurriedly wash them off, turning down the cold so they can rinse in comfort. Grabbing two towels from the rack, he hands one to Edward and he climbs gingerly out of the tub. Not wanting Edward to slip or fall either, he swings his arm and holds out his hand. Smiling widely, he whispers, "Come on, kid, let's get you some clean clothes and get you to bed. You've had a long night, to say the least."
But he finds he has to cock a questioning eyebrow when he notices the stern tight-lipped look on Edward's face. But then his heart skips a beat and smiles as he listens to Edward's reply. "It's not kid, Jasper." And as the laughter rings out in the little bathroom, they both sing in unison: "Or boy or guy, but Edward, Edward Cullen."
Thanks for taking the time guys, let me know what you think.