COOL STORY, BRO
summ.: Jasper and Edward are just bros, right? Well, it ends with Jasper and Edward in the woods.S-s-suh-slash. Stupid, I know, but I really wanted to try writing it.
a/n: I've had this floating around for awhile, so might as well finish/post it.

TUESDAY

Jasper sprawled on the couch, watching the television set flash with abounding colors. A half-empty bottle of whiskey lay next to him, threatening to spill its contents. He took a final drag of his cigarette. The ashtray on the coffee table was full, so he flicked the dead cigarette butt somewhere he approximated the garbage basket to be. It hit the floor.

"Alice!" His little girlfriend poked her head out of their kitchen. "Where the fuck's the garbage?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Am I your maid?"

"No, but you ought to dress like it." Smoke was wafting from the kitchen, a stingy burning smell trailing. Jasper gagged. "Besides, you'd be a poor cook." The smoke alarms blared loudly, and Jasper found the will get up. He took a fluffy pillow and chucked it at the noise maker. It fell, the plastic casing shattering on the floor. Alice stopped the other one in the kitchen.

"Hey, we need another alarm." He surveyed the wreckage. "Again." Alice bounded to the hallway to see the wreck.

"Maybe if you didn't attack everything," she hissed, "we'd still have Smokey." Jasper rolled his eyes. She had named his toaster, microwave, TV, fan, and even the smoke alarm.

"Smokey the third, you mean." And he was only counting the smoke alarms in the hall. The one in the kitchen had another name. "How do you set off the fucking alarms with a sandwich?"

"Um, I was roasting it." She had the plate in her hand, black bread with cheese crusting the edges. "Look." Jasper bent to pick up his cigarette butt, aptly placing it on top of the burnt thing. Alice pouted as he took his seat on the couch. "Oh come on, it's not that bad!"

He waved her away. "Allie-cat, I love you, but find a fucking trash can and shove that in there!" Jasper clutched the remote, flicking through stolen cable channels until he found it. "Fuck." ESPN's dreaded golf coverage bored him to tears, but he admitted it was better than some of the odder things on TV.

He was torn from catatonic boredom by a phone call. "Alice, get the phone!"

"I'm in the bathroom!" Her voice was muffled. "Can you get me some toilet paper? Some idiot forgot to replace it." The phone was on its third ring, almost ready to drop the call. Jasper let the machine get it.

"Hey, it's Emmett," the voice gurgled. "Um, Jasper, I know you're there, fucker." Jasper groaned. "Whatever. You weren't answering your cell, so I just called. You wanna go hunting this weekend? Edward's finally free, so now we can all go." Jasper thought Emmett was going to hang up, but he continued. "Oh, and say hey to Alice for me!" The machine clicked as he finished.

Edward, huh? Jasper took a thoughtful swig of whiskey. Wonder how good of a shot he is. Jasper considered himself a masterful marksman, contrasted with the big lumbering Emmett and his clumsy shooting. Edward looked like the kid afraid of shooting a can off the fence. Jasper eyed the TV lazily.

"Jasper. Whitlock. Hale!" Alice had her pants around her little legs. Jasper leered, though he was inhibited by the far-flung anger on her face. The veins were popping out of her hand, crumpling the roll of paper she held. "What the fuck?"

"Hey babe," he said to her. "Uh, sorry? I do like the new look, though." The toilet paper roll smacked him right on the head, bounding onto the floor. She's a good pitcher, he thought. Alice stomped back into the bathroom and came out, returning to the kitchen. He was about to yell at her for a sandwich, until he noticed faint skidmarks on the roll. Holy fuck, she didn't. It made him a notch hornier than the norm, and he smiled.