Weeeeeelcoome *waving arm motion.* No, you haven't clicked on a Poltergeist fic, your eyes haven't deceived you, that was just my best attempt at a witty opening remark. Aaanyway, I hope you guys enjoy this.

But before starting, here's the boring bit: Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer created all these characters, not I, even though I like to pretend otherwise. But a guy can dream right? But if you do try to sue me, feel free to take my students loans. Just saying.

Also, this story contains Jasper and Edward M/M scenes, mature sexual scenes, medical/surgical descriptions and cursing. So if that's not your cup of tea then I suggest you go for coffee.

Where were we? Oh yes, the story. Enjoy!

"Apply the iodine."

"Get the anesthesiologist."

"Her vitals are dropping."

"He's rejecting it."

"His heart is stopping"

"Get the panels."

"Clear."

Clear. Despite hearing that word almost every day in the hospital environment, from behind the milky blue curtains or the thick doors of the OR, I couldn't help but think it ironic that a person like me would be completely surrounded by that word. I mean, me, clear? It was all sorts of funny, ridiculous, and even just plain inaccurate. There wasn't a single aspect of myself that I could say was "clear." Well okay, maybe I lie a little, so there were a few things I was clear on, but for the most part, I wasn't certain of anything in my life. I wasn't certain that I was living where I wanted to live; I wasn't certain whether I was working in the profession I wanted; I wasn't even certain if I was happy, or lonely, or just completely indifferent towards life entirely. I guess I just wanted to break the mould a little, live a life that wasn't fettered to the demands of my oath. I was still young. I mean, if they still consider 26 young nowadays. Err, that sounded old of me, didn't it?

So let's not get the wrong impression here. There were parts of my job that I loved. I loved helping a patient recover and seeing him or her wake up after surgery to be hugged by cheerful family members. I loved being able to tell a man who thought his days were numbered that he'd have many more years ahead of him, to perhaps travel the world, or meet the woman of his dreams. I loved giving new life to a person on the waiting list by successfully transplanting the needed organ into him. I guess what I loved about my job was helping others, and that's why I became a surgeon.

Although surgeon life was demanding and had caused me to have a total of fourteen hours sleep per week, I also missed the simple things like going out for a drink when I wanted, or meeting new people during nights out at my own leisure. You'd be surprised; my job, and the work it took to get my job, claimed a lot of my college years, and so I never had "the college experience," or the "partying days." When my friends went out with this in mind, I - being the dedicated aspiring med-student - remained in the library and studied. So despite my life experience and age - which I still argue is very young! - I wasn't the most confident or self-secure of guys. I had my problems, like everyone, but the difference was that I just didn't really have anyone to share these problems with.

Which leads me to issue number 1,453. There was no denying that my list of confidants had whittled down a great deal since I'd moved to Seattle. Who was left on it was my cat, Bierce Fitch; my pet parrot, Pterodactyl, and my frenemy Emmett, who lived in the apartment next to me. Note that I listed him after my animals.

For the last four years, it's been just the three of us - with the occasional visit from Emmett. My social life was evidently barren, and I guess I kept making excuses for that. When I'd see interns move here for the first time and make friends within days of arrival, I'd usually just think of reasons why I'd never been like that. Usually I'd tell myself "I'm just too busy to put myself out there," or "they're much younger and have more time to make friends." But the truth was that I didn't like rejection. I didn't want to start a friendship, because not having one was better than losing one, or certainly better than failing to make one. So I just took myself out of the equation altogether and stayed to myself.

I did feel exceptionally lonely, however, when I'd sing songs like "Fast car" by Tracy Chapman or "People Help the People" by Cherry Ghost alone in my car on the way home, with the city lights laid out before me, but with the absence of an arm feeling nice wrapped 'round my shoulder. So yeah, I didn't real feel like I could share my moments with people, because in all honesty, I felt a little isolated from people in this metropolitan area of three million inhabitants. Ironic, yes. Clear, no.

So I guess the final thing I could mention is the gay thing. Oh yes. Well for the most part, only my family, Bierce Fitch and Emmet knew; I was still weaning Pterodactyl onto the idea. The reason for this was that I didn't want to shock him too much. My apprehension to break the news to Ptero was reflective of my relations with colleagues or acquaintances in my day-to-day life. I never broadcasted my sexuality to anyone, not because I was in the closet per-say, but more-so because there was no-one around to ask me, or for me to tell. But at least those who I did have, knew. Now that we've reached this subject, I may as well just come out - heh, sorry - and say that just because my life was dictated by that loud mouth nurse, Irene, who called me whenever a patient as much as sneezed, I wasn't completely devoid of a sex life. I did my best to keep my morale high by going to local bars during my unpredictable off-hours and meeting guys who piqued my interest... or anything else for that matter. But this didn't happen as often as I would've liked. In fact, it barely happened at all.

My job was a well-paying one, so I had the luxury of coming home to an apartment that contributed to Seattle's golden skyline and sat just beneath the Space Needle itself. Bierce Fitch especially loved the view; this was most evident when she'd bat the window when birds would appear outside. As if she had a chance. Oh poor Bierce Fitch, my heart really did go out to her sometimes. Sigh. As for Pterotactyl, he'd usually fly at the window when he saw other birds, with, so I believed, the intentions of mating with them. The little bastard had developed a golden tongue for the chicks lately, since he'd learned how to regurgitate my words and spew them at miscellaneous crows that flew by. I had company one night and Ptero had the unknowing bad luck of hearing a few things. The next day, he began shouting profanities at the poor guy when he was on his way out the door. I'll let you use your imagination on that one.

So despite Ptero flying at my windows and Bierce Fitch swatting them with a laughable temper, my apartment remained relatively quiet. Except I did always wonder what Emmet got up to in my place when he'd feed the zoo for me. Because of my crazy work hours, he offered to change Ptero's cage and Bierce Fitch's food bowl in my absence, which I much appreciated, but I'd often come home to find traps and tricks set up around my house. Emmet got much satisfaction out of seeing me in pain or suffering, and he expressed this by either a) using my pets against me, or b) using my tiredness against me. Both of which were of equal value.

For example, last winter when it happened to be snowing, he texted me to tell me that he wouldn't be able to feed my crazy animals because he was going skiing in Colorado with his friends. That was fine, so when I got home to do the deed myself, I was welcomed by Ptero grumbling "Redrum, redrum," before a screaming and howling Bierce Fitch was thrown at my face. I, quite frankly, shat myself and didn't appreciate it when Emmet appeared from the shadows, decrepit with laughter. I could have punched his goofy face in that night.

I did appreciate what Emmet did for me though. If it wasn't for him, I'd probably have no humans friends at all; I was lucky that he was the "Hi, I'm Emmet, nice to meet you, now shake my hand or you'll look like a shy douchebag" type of guy. Our friendship was a little forced down my throat, but in retrospect, I'm grateful for that. Besides, I wouldn't have been able to keep Pterodactyl and Bierce Fitch if it hadn't been for him. Ooft, no, perish the thought. They were the closest things I had to children.

So I suppose this is the stage I introduce myself? Ugh, I don't know where to start. Actually, how about with the basics? Well my name is Japser Whitlock, I'm 26 years old, and I'm a full-time general surgeon living in the rainy city of Seattle.

"Dr. Whitlock sweetie, y've been signed up for anotha Appendectomy. Go scrub in," instructed Irene with her grimy Boston accent that gave me goosebumps down my neck. Her voice was literally the same as the Grim Reaper's at this stage, except I'd welcome the Grim Reaper's because at least he wouldn't drag me into an OR. I turned around and forced the best smile I could, before I turned to the board to see where I had been assigned.

Operating Room 2b, Appendectomy, Ms. Bella Swan. Intern not yet assigned.

Ugh. I had to pick an intern now? Really? I've been an attending for a year now! I thought residents were made for choosing interns? Whatever. In the hospital hierarchy, it basically worked down from the chief of surgery (who nobody messed with,) to the attendings, to the chief resident, to the residents, and finally to the bottom of the pile - the interns. These were the hatchlings of the hospital community and were literally supplied to be our bottom bitches. Their sole existence was to hand us proper surgeons what we needed to do proper work and if we were in exceptionally good moods (or merciful ones for that matter,) we could pick interns to assist us in surgery. Usually we'd opt to take residents with us instead, as they were less annoying and knew at least a little about what they were doing, but when the chief saw that his interns were being neglected, he kindly asked us to "start letting them scrub in with us."

So now I needed to pick one to help me operate on Bella Swan. Great. Just great. Who looked the least annoying? My eyes glared around the perimeter of the hall to spot a wannabe surgeon, but when four of them caught onto what I was doing, and surrounded me like a swarm of locusts, I didn't need to keep looking. Three of them were piping up and jumping slightly up and down, chanting, "Sir, please, sir, you must consider-"

They were silenced, however, by the suave tone of the fourth one, a tall, slim, Latino woman who slid into my side a little.

"Oh Meestar Wheetlock, I'd love to specialize in general surgery some day, so please chose me to scrub in with you, sir," she purred, flicking her eyelashes. I literally howled out laughing in my head at her attempts. I had to admit, she had some serious balls to do that to an attending. Except, she didn't have balls, and that was why her flirty trick didn't actually work on me. But still, I admired her attempt nonetheless.

"You," I said, pointing at her. "What's your name?"

"Sofia Rodriguez Arguelles," she said back, standing straight, but not losing her grin. "Happy to help sir."

I nodded and wrote her name on the board and turned back to her. "Dr Rodriguez Arguelles, you're scrubbing in with me today. Follow me."

I led her down the hall and into OR 2b, where we both washed up and got ready for surgery. The intern didn't lose that grin on her face, and I could've sworn she stuck her tongue out at her fellow interns who watched her from the glass panel on the door. I couldn't suppress the snort that escaped my nose, and she flicked back around, apparently conscious of running my patience thin. Hah, if only she knew. I was getting entertainment from an intern. Hell had frozen over but I didn't care, this chick was too funny.

"Meestar Wheetlock?" she sang, an innocent smile befalling her, "What is your opinion about the new issue of the Medical Journal?"

That seriously made me giggle to myself. I knew what she was up to.

"You know," I said, not letting myself smile. "If you want to make conversation with me while your friends are watching then just say so. I know how good it feels to get a one-up on the other interns." Of course I smiled then, and so did she, before I opened my mouth and said, "Well Dr. Rodriguez Arguelles, I had no idea interns read the Medical Journal. I have to say, I'm very impressed."

I heard "shit" and "that bitch!" from outside, and my intern sniggered with her back to them, a hand up to her nose. "Thank you Meestar Wheetlock," she giggled. "They'll be so jealous now!"

"Serves them right," I laughed, "for acting like a bunch of animals."

She turned around and entered the operating room, sticking her tongue out at the other interns once more as she passed them, and I followed in pursuit, adjusting my mask as I entered. The anesthesiologist had already prepped Bella, and the patient lay comfortably on the operating table. Well, as comfortable as having a tube down her throat and a squishy shower cap on her head was. Still, it was better than the catheter she'd have on during recovery time. That shit was nasty. She should've considered herself lucky.

As inexperienced interns swarmed into the viewing deck to watch yours truly preform what was the most boring of all boring surgeries, my intern started to shove her boobs up beneath her scrubs. It was then I realized that the viewing deck faced us at an angle, and that she was using this to her aesthetic advantage. I hummed with laughter to myself again as I tied the knot to secure my mask in place. I was wondering if this chick really did have balls. She certainly didn't care what people thought of her and I have to say, I admired that. It was refreshing, to say the least.

I drew a dotted line along Bella's lower stomach, where I planned to cut and I said, "scalpel," under my breath, but loud enough for my tarty intern to hear me. "Oh yes, yes, the scalpel, yes," she said, flicking through the tray of tools. "Which one is the scalpel? I am forgetting."

I visibly rolled my eyes. If she hadn't provided me with such entertainment the last hour, I probably would've expelled her. "The one for cutting," I sighed. "The most basic tool used by all surgeons." The bitch interns in the viewing deck began to snigger and laugh, but my assistant seemed to take it on the chin. She picked up the scalpel and gave it to me, smiling sarcastically up at her critics as she did so.

Okay, it was time for surgeon mode. Sur-geon-mode. Surgeon mode. Count to five Jasper. One, two, three, four, five. Okay there we go, let's do this.

"Making the incision," I declared, as the tip of the knife cut through Bella's abdomen. This was a surgery I could've done with my eyes closed, my hands tied, and with the entire Portuguese soccer team watching me. Okay, scratch the last part, but I think my point was clear. Heh, clear, there I was again with that word. No, focus Jasper, focus. Must.focus. I cleared my throat.

"Suction."

The gurgling sound of the tube sucked up the blood that obscured my opening, and I continued on, step by step going through the invasive procedure of the Appendectomy once I'd put my hand inside the wound. I heard my intern grumble, "Ay ay, what am I doing here?" under her breath and that made me serious have to hold back snorting my mask off. My entertainment was enough of a reason for her to be there, but she apparently was doubting herself. I brought my mind back to my work, and decided that there had been enough suction. When the skin had stretched out wide enough for my fingers to locate the appendix, I asked for the clamp to be widened until the little bugger showed itself beside Bella's ascending colon.

"Yep, this bastard needs to come out," I said out-loud, aware that the hatchling interns in the viewing deck had heard me through the intercom and were snickering away to themselves. C'mon, seriously? Just because they thought I was some hot-shot surgeon, didn't mean I wasn't a human being. And a human can curse, right? Get over yourselves, you pre-pubic, pre-medicinal fetuses and go get your middle school teachers to say fuck. I promise, it won't be that exciting once you graduate, or at least grow up a little.

I sliced the appendix from the colon with a different scalpel and placed it into the tray that was then wheeled away by a nurse. My intern watched with wide, gleeful eyes as she experienced the most base of surgeries, and glanced up at the vitals quickly before watching the closing ceremony again. You know that feeling when you can sense someone else's eyes on you? That was me. I looked up and saw her hopeful face peering over and I couldn't help but ask if she wanted to finish the rest of the surgery under my supervision. She almost burst out of her elevated boobs, and hopped over to the patient and carefully sewed the incision closed after my invasive handy-work.

The other interns, however, watched in horror as their rival added one extra experience to her list of surgeries, out-weighing them with a new badge of refined stitching skills. When I saw a few of them mouth 'this is so not fair' before storming out, I realized that I had been meddling with intern politics. My life really was that sad; I was getting enjoyment out of the affairs of the hatchlings, bottom-dwellers of the hospital fish-tank. It had been a while for me, definitely, and the effects were beginning to show. Ugh. I needed to get out more.

I hardly noticed my intern finish her work and peel off her bloody gloves with a satisfied hum. I did the same, rather blankly, still contemplating the thought of hitting a bar tonight, before the anesthesiologist interrupted my thoughts by taking his leave. Bella was wheeled into recovery and my intern and I both moved to the wash-room and began lathering our arms and hands with soap. I quickly pulled my mask off so that I could reply to any questions regarding the surgery that she may have had.

"Leh me buy you a drink," she said, turning to me with a bright, friendly smile. "As a thank you." I really didn't know what to say. It was bad enough that I had been plotting interns against each other, and now I was going to hang out with one? The thought of me, an attending, being in the middle of a group of children/interns wasn't my idea of a fun night, despite this specific intern's spicy attitude.

I respectfully declined.

"Oh no, no, Meestar Wheetlock, don't worry about all those other interns. I don't drink with them. They annoy me. Nothing more than cheeldren they are."

I laughed to myself. An intern turning on her kind. She was a rare breed indeed - a snowy dove trooping with crows. What the hell, I said to myself. I needed a life anyway, so I might as well give it a shot and drink with my latino intern. What was there to lose? Other than my reputation amongst the other attendings, but I didn't like most of them too much anyway. Screw it. I was a nervous socializer and on most cases would have insisted on a declination of her invite, but because of how desperate I'd found myself to see walls other than those of the hospital's or my apartment's, I soon agreed.

"You know what? I will. Thanks. Where do you go?" I asked, turning off the sink.

"The Lasso," she replied. "A bar of some spice."

I smiled. It was about time someone 'round here started breaking Seattle's milquetoast bar-scene. The thought of some earthy, spanish drinks sounded good to me. We exchanged numbers and agreed to meet later that night. If I ever got out of here, that was.

I walked past Irene on numerous occasions, just so that she couldn't throw a surgery at me as I was out the door like every other day of my work-life. I thought that if she had something to assign to me, she'd have done it when she'd seen me walking past. My planning was made redundant, however, by the fact she never called me back when she saw me depart.

Score! I thought to myself as I hurried down the escalator, careful not to push my luck. Not today, Irene! I hopped into my black Audi and weaved through traffic, anxious to get home and to get ready, but not before wailing a song in the vehicle before I arrived at my destination. When I got to my door, Emmett was outside with Pterodactyl fastened to his arm by his birdy leash. Heh, I loved Ptero's birdy leash. It was just so, so, so awesome. He and I were both elated when I found it because Ptero was raring to leave the apartment and get some fresh air - so much so that I actually had to buy him the birdy leash in the first place.

Ptero began flapping his wings when he saw me. His feathers were mostly blue, but with streaks of yellow around his eyes and back. Everything about my Pterodactyl was perfect, but the one part of him that I adored above all else, was that one lone feather that jutted upwards from the apex of his head; it never failed to flatten like the others, even when subjected to water. I brought him into the shower with me once to see if it would go down, but it never did, so we both decided that it was a genetic mutation specific to him.

Emmet rolled his eyes when he saw me. He was wearing a plain white shirt and plain jeans, and I laughed at him for being so adventurous with his dress sense.

"Well I still look hotter than you without even trying," he said. I didn't argue because I didn't even know whether I was considered attractive or not anymore. I hadn't even looked in a mirror in what felt like years. But Ptero apparently didn't like that Emmett had insulted me, and quickly came to my defense, "Emmett likes cock! Emmett likes cock!" he cawed.

I am not lying when I say that I literally almost pissed myself. Emmett had gotten owned by my parrot. Qual-it-ee. My neighbor swiftly dropped his arm and allowed Ptero to flap ferociously to the floor, flapping his wings and squawking.

"Hey, you were on my side!" he moaned, looking down at the parrot. I came to my friend's aid, as he had come to mine, and I picked up Ptero and snatched the bird-lead from Emmett. "There, there," I cooed, perching him on my arm. "No cock-loving Emmet can get you now, don't you fear." I curled my fingers and gently brushed my bird's feathery chest, causing him to straighten and side-step closer to me. Emmet feigned anger. "Yeah well, that thing has bird flu anyway. He told me he picked it up on a crazy night out a few years back." That seemed to be a quote; for anyone who was a parrot owner, you'd know that parrots listened attentively to the TV and radio, which was why they picked up the strangest phrases. Ptero was no exception to this. He'd listen closely to the sounds of my neighbor's TV programs, or he'd sing along with Miley Cyrus, Taylor Swift or whatever other annoying pop-girl was on the radio these days. Because of this, he was fluent in television/radio/soap opera language, and could even hold his own with English and Japanese swear words. My Ptero had developed his second and third languages, as they say, "on the streets."

"I'm sure he did," I said embracingly, kissing Ptero's head. "I don't doubt you for a moment." Emmett rolled his eyes again and stretched. "You're way to attached to that thing," he said, pointing at my bird. "And the sad thing is that you don't know how sad that is." I knew he was joking, so I pretended to kick him, with an apt sarcastic laugh following thereafter. Ptero apparently took offense and came to my defense again. He really did have my back. "Emmett's a virgin! Emmett's a virgin!"

Apparently, that was the straw that broke the camel's back.

"Shut up!" Emmett whisper-shouted, waving his arms. "There are hot girls on this floor!"

But there was no stopping Ptero. Once he put his mind to something, he had to execute it - he got that from me.

"Emmet's a virgin! Emmett's a virgin!" he squawked, "As dry as the Sahara desert!"

"Shut him up!" Emmett shouted. "I'll break his beak Jasper, I swear!"

I was too busy howling and cheering my parrot on. I would have joined in had I been the same species as him. Emmett was not amused in the slightest, and he waved his arms all around Ptero to shut him up, but his efforts proved fruitless. I knew Emmet wouldn't harm my baby, even he was fond of him, despite the threats. I danced to Ptero's words and marched around the hall triumphantly, to encourage him to go on.

"Emmett's a stub! Emmett's a stub!" he cawed, looking at me while enjoying the levity he was creating. But it all came to an abrupt halt when a set of keys smacked my parrot off of my arm and knocked him to the floor once again. I chided Emmett and helped Ptero up, before turning to my door and sending him inside. I turned to Emmett again.

"Sorry, he watches too much television," I said, closing the door behind me to hide the continued chants of Ptero in the background. "He's just happy to see me."

"I don't know how you do it," Emmett sighed. "I don't know how you manage to make a Parrot have your personality. But dammit Jasper, he does. It's sort of creepy, in an Adams Family kind of way."

I snapped my fingers emphatically to mimic the theme tune. Emmet grinned animatedly and I did the same.

"You look strangely happy today," he noted, punching my arm.

I couldn't hold back my excitement. "I am. I'm going out tonight. First time in-"

"Years!" Emmet drawled mockingly, punching me again. "You must have cobwebs growing in you at this stage. Who's the guy?"

I shuddered. The sad truth was that it was a girl, and I was gay, so my action was still going to remain in the depths of the negative. No point lying! Emmet would know. He knew lies the same way Ptero knew old ladies and penis jokes. But he didn't need to know that she was an intern. That was the most embarrassing fact of all, if you ask me, but it was doubtful Emmet even knew anything about hospital politics anyway.

"A friend from work," I said. "Her name is.." Wait? What was her name again? It was a Spanish one! Isabella? Lorena? Paz? Ugh, this was a losing game. I rouged a little as I realized that I had no idea what my new friend's name even was.

"..Doctor Mshhmswhm.. she's a friend of mine from work."

"What was her name?" Emmet asked, raising an eyebrow.

"..Erm.. Doctor..Intern..Spanish.."

"Her name is Dr. Intern-Spanish?" he asked, unconvinced. My shoulders dropped. Kiss my ass Emmet! You and your perfect 'I know everyones' names because I'm Emmet and I'm the perfect standard of perfection and -'

"You don't remember do you?" he asked.

I acquiesced. Serious save face time ahead! Okay Jasper, you're a surgeon, thinking and doing things on the spot is your job! You can do this! Three, two, one.

"I have no idea."

Well done Jasper. Hard work and training to become a surgeon, my ass.

Emmet chortled and slapped me in the shoulder. "Only you would agree to meet someone and not even catch their name. Kudos, Jasper."

I laughed sarcastically before brusquely wrapping up the conversation after looking at my watch. I turned into my apartment, almost tripping over Bierce Fitch as I did so, and stumbled into my bathroom.

A shower, a lick of deodorant and a splash of cologne later, I was on my way to The Lasso with Emmett. Yes, he asked if he could join me and I said yes. Well, not at first, but when he challenged me by saying 'I bet your friend doesn't even exist' I kinda sorta had to force him to come. At least he changed out of that grubby shirt and wore something somewhat flattering. Even I, who was not remotely attracted to Emmett, found myself glancing over at his muscly arms as he turned the steering wheel. A guy can look, right?

But apparently Emmett caught on to my drifting eyes and had no problems commenting on it. "Eyes to yourself, you creep." Me? Eyes? Look? At him? Neever.

"Don't flatter yourself," I said, giving a forced smile. "But I am humbled that you whipped out your biceps for my sake. That was nice of you Em."

He tried to punch me, but missed, as his eyes were on the road. "Now I wish I kept on my T-shirt," he said.

When we neared the city center, we took a left down one of the main streets and I hopped out, with Emmett agreeing to find a parking space. The Lasso was before me and I walked inside, my eyes searching for my intern friend. I drilled myself for her name again, but it just didn't come to me. It was relatively busy inside, with the murmur of voice's filling my ears, so I found it hard to locate her specifically. I sent the number she gave me a text and minutes later I got a reply saying, "ICU."

Huh? ICU? My surgeon brain ran through every acronym I ever had to remember, some of which were nine or ten letters long. When a heavy weight jumped onto my left, however, I stopped thinking.

"See! I told you I see you!"

Aah, that was it. ICU = I see you. I smiled and turned around.

"Meestar Wheetlock!" she greeted, embracing me. "So glad you came!"

I smiled and grinned nervously. "Thanks! Glad to be here." I didn't dare say a name. I told myself that I'd wait for her to say it before I'd take a shot in the dark.

"What are we waiting for? Let's get the tequila!" She danced into the crowd, pulling me behind her and through a large group of lively, dancing Spanish people until we got to the bar. I was the only non-Spanish person there, but that was cool with me; these people had some serious style and color, and I liked that. Even my intern herself dressed spicily. I hadn't expected that despite my chiding towards 'interns not thinking of attendings as people,' I had completely forgotten that interns were just normal day-to-day people too, and that outside the hospital environment, I didn't need to uphold this "attendings vs interns" bullshit anymore.

My new friend embraced her Spanish culture. She wore a fruity, tight dress to her kneecaps, of which banded around her toned stomach and came down as a V to expose some cleavage. There was a large red flower clipped into her right ear, holding up one limb of her thick, brown locks, preventing them from dangling around her neck. I noticed how straight her nose was, and how white her teeth were. Shit, those scrubs really did make us look ugly.

The colorful buzz made me nostalgic for a culture that wasn't my own, and I became lost in the cheers and chortles of the dancing people - strangers who had never met before, yet had decided to dance together in large, cheering groups.

"¡Camarero! cuatro tiros de tequila para mi amigo y yo!" cheered my friend, nodding festively at the barman. He gave her a chuckle and a wink before he flicked the bottle in the air and filled a line of shots. She turned back to me.

"This is how we do it in Andalusia!"

I was given four shots, of which I immediately began to count the different types of poison I'd be consuming if I were to drink them. But my Spanish friend's cheering above the harmonious latin music pulled me from my doubts. Come on Jasper! Live a little! Quit being such a dry surgeon! I laughed and knocked back both shots with my new friend, feeling them both go right to my head.

I was dragged to a blue wooden table and was forced to sit down, where a waiter - was he male, or female? - brought us two large mojitos. I began slurping mine like there was no tomorrow. Alcohol tasted so good right now. Mmm, it had been too long. Now I know how Ptero felt when he wanted to get out of the house. I was so enthralled by the taste that I didn't even care that my new intern friend had practically dragged me across the bar.

"So tell me!" she asked, a large smile on her face. "What is your first name?" Her laugh was almost harmonious to the music, so it sounded, and I gazed with amazement, my eyes wide. I didn't realize that this was my chance to ask her for her name also.

"Jasper," I laughed, gulping more of my drink. "It sort of sounds like the name of a cheesy Danish porn flick, but you know, whatever helps you get up in the morning."

My friend collapsed laughing, her fruity laugh contagious to all in the vicinity. "Back in Spain," she started, sipping on the straw, "I never would have thought I'd meet surgeons who thought their names sounded like pornstars." She cackled and slurped her drink, leaving a stain of red lipstick on the tip of the straw.

"So Jasper, I must ask, why did you chose me for the surgery today?" she then asked.

It was hard to hear her amidst the dancing, cheering and whistling. The alcohol didn't help either and I found that I was slurring my words. "Because you hahv balls!" I said, slapping my empty glass on the table and waving at the waiter for a new one. He brought it over and I began sucking on the straw again. By God, it was the first thing I'd sucked on anything in a long time.

My friend laughed at my response, her questions endless. "I have balls?" she gasped, laughing uncontrollably and patting the front of her dress. "Ay, ay, mi madre would have a lot to fill me in on if I did!"

I laughed. "The real reason? Y'wanna know?" I slapped my drink on the table. "Because you were confident and didn't give a shit what tho s'other interns were thinking!" Okay, was I really getting that bad? It really had been a long time, hadn't it? My body was not used to alcohol.

When my fellow hospital worker started laughing at my response, Emmett came in and spotted me. He approached and introduced himself.

"Emmett," he said with a smile. "Nice to meet you."

"Sofia," she responded, shaking his hand. "Nice to meet you too."

I smelled flirting! I could smell flirting! Oooh, I wonder if this was meant to be? Maybe I was supposed to be the one to hook these two up? Ooh, predetermination, and I was part of it. Oooh, how exciting. Aha! And her name was Sofia! Score number two!

"Well Sofia," I started, wiping my mouth as some mojito spilled out. "I'll have you know that Emmet has huge biceps."

Emmet, as expected, punched me, but Sofia laughed out loud, watching me with a mirthful glint in her eye. "How haven't I met you before?" she asked me, her Spanish accent getting heavier and heavier. I took a drunken breath in and exhaled. "Probably because you're a girl, and I'm gay," I laughed. Emmett slapped his face but Sofia laughed again, ordering two shots of tequila for each of us in Spanish to the waiter. I sort of loved how she didn't seem to give a shit about the confession I'd just made.

Hah! Take that Emmett, I thought to myself. If she had ordered those drinks in English, he would have asked that I drink no more because I was already bad enough as it was. Hah, again! Sofia seemed to guess that in advance and that's why she ordered in Spanish. This girl was just getting cooler and cooler. But I did appreciate that Emmett cared, though. He was really sweet when he wanted to be. But I was still most impressed with Sofia. During the night, she seemed to 'get' me and Emmett's jokes, even though they were in her second language. Not a single nuance went over her head and soon enough, she was making one-liners and jokes of her own that put even Emmett to shame.

We discovered that she had a potty mouth like Emmett and myself, and we also learned that she had a dirty mind and a sick sense of humor. I promptly informed her of Emmett's earlier confrontation with my parrot, Ptero.

Have I spoken of Ptero before? I really do love him. And tequila. In fact, I should introduce them.

"'Emmett loves cock! Emmett loves cock!' That's what he was shouting!" I exclaimed, my drunken mind taking over me as I laughed. Sofia spat her mojito across the table and missed Emmett by a droplet. Not that he noticed though, he was too busy being lightheartedly debased by my drunken jokes and ramblings. "And Sofia," I continued. "Then Emmet went red and threatened to break Ptero. I mean, talk about getting owned by an animal."

"That thing is smarter than all of us put together and you know it," he commented, slugging his beer. Sofia piped in though, to save the drunken day. "Well, one of us," she said, winking at me. "He's smarter than one of us, and that one is the non-surgeon of the three of us."

A silence befell the table until I almost choked when I realized that she'd indirectly said "Ptero's smarter than Emmett." I quickly high-fived her and punched Emmett for a change. He, unfortunately, was a bit behind us and asked for an explanation. Laughing, I asked Sofia to explain while I bought the next round. Despite her demanding that I sit and she get the next one, I fought for my turn by reminding her that she was yet to allow neither Emmett, nor I, to buy a round of drinks. Emmett, the cheap bastard, enjoyed the free drink that continued to appear in front of him. When I stood up, I realized how much I'd drank and I felt my legs wobble beneath me.

Whew, this was fun. It was like I was surfing. Nahnahnahnahnahnahnahnah. Oh look, the bar was coming closer! Or was that me moving? Meh. I didn't care. I just wanted to drink more.

I stumbled to the bar and leaned over it a bit. The colorful shades of the different Spanish bottles of booze glittered in my drunken eyes and I peered over the bar, gazing at them in amazement. The bartender was busy being pulled all directions by a group of colorful Spanish girls, but I was too shitfaced to even care. To be honest, all I did was smile because I had finally let go a little and it felt so damn great. I felt alive again, I felt rejuvenated. I felt human!

"Getting a tequila too?" asked a person beside me. Ooh, that was a nice voice. Deep, broody and earthy. It was almost gravely in its tone. My diaphragm tickled a little. I turned to see a guy to my left, sitting straightly on the barstool. He was, along with Emmett and I, the only other non-Spanish person there. Mmm, how did I not notice him before? When he tilted his head from the shadow that had blocked his features, I was met by an angular jaw, high risen cheek-bones, slim, svelte cheeks and red pouted lips.

Okay why was I staring? Was this the alcohol making people look better than they were? And did this guy speak to me?

"Getting a tequila too?" he asked again. Okay, c'mon Jasper. A surgeon, remember! You've done scarier things than look people in the eyes. When I forced myself to do so, I saw two dark, rich emerald eyes staring back at me. And I swear, if I never swear on anything in my life again, they were the greenest eyes I'd ever seen.

"Ugh.. yeah, yeah I am," I stuttered, pulling myself onto the stool. "If I can just get this dude's attention." I pointed at the bartender.

The man let out a husky laugh and quickly glanced at the bartender before turning back to me. "Well it looks like he'll be a while." We both looked at the girls who continued to distract him from his line of duties. What happened after that was probably caused by dutch courage, given to me by my new best friend called tequila, but I decided to just do it, to take the leap and be human again. I'd come this far, so why stop now? There was no point waiting for things to become clear; may as well embrace the chaos, right?

"I'm Jasper," I said, extending a hand, "pleased to meet you."

He smiled. "Edward," he said. "Likewise."

Heh. Edward. I liked that name.