A/N So, in chapter three Jasper was asked for three reasons to love Edward, and we saw one. These make up the set. Jasper POV again.

Edward loved being silly, always running around in public places and telling childish jokes at the top of his voice. He especially delighted in dragging me into his daft escapades, and if I was unaware until it was too late, so much the better.

We had been on the beach, fooling around with a frisbee when Edward decided he wanted to build a giant sandcastle. I made a couple of castles, but he complained that they were in the wrong place, and I was making the little town unrealistic. I didn't really see what the issue was; for crying out loud, it was just a sandcastle. He was always a bit too much of a stickler for accuracy. I'd given in and left him to it, just settled myself down on the sand and watched him as he dug and placed and patted. He was silhouetted against the sun; a perfect outline wandering back and forth.

I had fallen asleep.

Edward had taken advantage, and built me into the sandcastle. When I woke up only my head was still uncovered, and Edward's face was mere inches from my own.

"What have you done to me?" I tried to get up, but he wouldn't let me. He made me stay perfectly still and then showed me a photo on his phone. I looked at it and realised he'd not been making a sandcastle at all.

He'd sculpted me. At least, he'd sculpted over me, a layer of sand covering my skin. He hadn't been entirely faithful, though – both the sculpture and I may have been lying on my back with crossed ankles, but the sculpture also had the most enormous erection I have ever seen. No Michelangelo's David, this; this was more in the territory of the Rude Man.

I struggled to find my voice.

"What the fuck?"

He'd smiled broadly. "What?" He looked as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, .

"You're going to get us arrested. This is practically indecent exposure. And it's not like a cold shower will take care of that, either," I said, glancing down before looking up at him and raising an eyebrow.

He'd laughed, and I'd laughed, and he'd told me of the scandalised looks he'd got from passers-by.

"Well, what do you expect. You must have looked like you were molesting a poor innocent," I said.

We'd giggled like schoolboys until I couldn't keep still enough, and the sand covering me fell away. He'd told me off for ruining his masterpiece, and chased me down the beach, neither of us caring what anyone else thought as I ran, screaming, until he threw his arms round my waist and pulled me over. Soft sand had flown everywhere as we struggled and wrestled with each other until finally we'd collapsed, still laughing.

:::::

Thinking of a third reason to love Edward was easy. I loved his kindness, his thoughtfulness, and the way he would shut off his silly side if someone needed him.

On one particular occasion I'd been travelling on my own for pretty much a whole day, and had been awake for over twenty-four hours, fighting with cancelled flights and delayed trains. I'd finally staggered through our front door at three in the morning, cold, tired, and irritable to find Edward waiting for me with hot water ready in the bath. It was all I could do to wrap an arm around him and let him guide my feet up the stairs.

I'd stopped outside the bathroom door, capable only of standing there as Edward slowly stripped my sweat-stained travelling clothes from me. He'd helped me into the bath, and slowly poured water over my skin as I sat, passive. The water had washed over my shoulders over and over again, warming me up and soothing my mind. His soapy hands had smoothed over me, sliding down my arms and around each finger, sweeping over my legs and across my chest. He had pressed his fingers into my back, kneading until the tension was gone. He'd cradled my head as he washed my hair and rinsed the bubbles away before placing a gentle kiss on my forehead.

I had been almost asleep when he had got me out of the bath and wrapped me in a big, clean towel. He'd rubbed and patted the towel over me until I was dry, then peeled back the bedcovers and settled me down amongst the sheets, the clean, fresh smell enveloping me.

My last memory before sleep had overtaken me had been of Edward climbing into bed, his body curling behind me and one arm falling over my ribs and holding me close. He had pressed his lips to the back of my neck, and I had drifted into sleep, feeling beloved.

A/N Try googling for the Cerne Abbas Giant, aka the Rude Man. He's not one of the oldest chalk figures in England, at only 400 (ish) years old, but he does have other features that make up for it ;o)