Seth Clearwater x ?

A/N: You may recognise this from my one-shot collection - doing a bit of rearranging to find some fics their new home.

In hindsight, he should have known better than to take Quil's advice, especially when it pertained to dating matters. The man had a track record, and it was tragic with a capital T. Still, never in his wildest dreams would he imagine an outcome so poor, the kind that landed him beside a (ridiculously attractive) stranger in side-by-side hospital beds.

He glances apprehensively at the faded blue curtain separating them, wondering whether he will survive if he inches open the divider.

It's worth a shot, he muses, cautiously edging it across until he can see her (very irritated, but still gorgeous) face.

"Uh...can I try apologising again?" he mumbles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"You hit me! With your car! What could you possibly say to make things better?" she shrieks, catching the attention of a few passers-by.

He frantically shushes her, dreading the attention of the (already critical) nurse. "Let me explain the whole story, okay? Then you can get back to yelling at me."

She slumps back into her bed, crossing her arms against her chest. "Fine. But you better have a good explanation."

(He doesn't, but she doesn't need to know that - not yet, anyway.)

I'll be the first to say - I'm no genius. Not that I'm overly stupid, or anything, but every now and then one of my friends will get in my ear and you may as well call me a lost cause. I've been getting better lately - doing my own thing, ignoring my brothers' advice, making reasonable choices. Quil caught me at a bit of a weak point, though.

"Weak point? You almost committed vehicular homicide!"

"I've barely gotten started! Reserve your judgement, please."

As I was saying - I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed. But I digress.

To really understand, there's one thing you should know about me - I've been single for a while. Eighteen years, if you'd like to be precise. Not for a lack of trying, but things just never seemed to pan out, whether it was double dates or carefully orchestrated displays of masculinity. That part was also Quil's idea. Anyway, I was griping a little at Sunday brunch - we do it every week, you should come next time - and Quil had a brilliant suggestion for me. Well, it seemed brilliant at the time.

He'd slapped me on the back, giving me one of his mega-watt grins that either indicated you were about to receive excellent news, or he had a fantastic plan. Either way, it seemed promising.

"Bud," he said, leaning to whisper in my ear. "I've got a foolproof strategy. Gotta listen close - you know Leah's always getting between us."

So I did what any good man would do - I leaned in, grinning. "Tell me everything."

And he had, laying out his plan in extravagant detail. The fact that the entire thing had to be laid out in conspicuous whispers only added to the excitement.

"Right. So here's what you're gonna do, Sethy, listen closely. You're driving through town, and you've just seen this hot chick, right, and you don't know her name," Quil mutters, eyes wide. "Course, you'll need to get her number. What d'ya think you should do?"

Really, I thought about it - I swear I did. So I told him my best idea, and he laughed in my face!

"Seth, mate, you've gotta do better than that. You'll be single forever!"

"I really have no faith in where this is going," she interrupts, rolling her eyes.

"C'mon, we're only just getting started. Hang in there."

Anyway, he clapped a hand on my shoulder, and gave me a wink. "Get an earful of this one. Right, so she's driving, can't stop to chat. You're going to miss your chance, and we can't have that. Crash into her - not hard, just a tap."

I stared at him blankly. "You want me to stage a car accident."

He stared back at me, dumbfounded. "Stage? No, you hit her for real. That way, you're legally required to exchange info."

"This is, by far, the stupidest thing I've ever heard, and I've watched all of Jersey Shore."

"Look, I'm getting there. Have a little patience."

Quil had continued on, oblivious to my obvious wonderment. "'Kay, so now she's pulled over. You get her phone number, she gets yours. Trade secret: when she asks what's wrong with you, just say "I invoke the fifth" - then she can't question you without a lawyer."

"Quil, I don't know - " I started, but he was quick to interrupt.

"Save it. I've thought about it, and it's foolproof. You just gotta go in for the love tap. Plus, you know what they say - fortune favours the bold."

Leah had come back with a plateful of nachos and an air of suspicion, and that was the end of that. I was resigned to my fate, accepting that I'd need to finish the job myself.

Once we'd finished up at brunch - and it had taken a long time, considering Emily had called an extended toast to announce that she and Sam were deciding to try for a baby (ick) - I drove around for a while, pondering the advice.

Could orchestrated chaos really land me a girlfriend?

Before I could think it over too much, Weezer came on the stereo, and I really can't focus with Island on the Sun on full bore.

"Seriously? Their self-titled album is far superior. Don't tell me you're a Maladroit fan."

"Give me a few. We'll circle back to that."

Anyway, Weezer was playing, and I looked down for a second - that was it, I swear! - and my car hit yours, totally accidentally but maybe subconsciously on purpose. And sure, your rear fender resembles a crushed bag of chips, and that'll take most of my paycheck to fix, but I kind of think it was worth it. I mean, look at you. Look at me.

"Yeah, two idiots with whiplash."

Maybe it's come at the cost of my dignity and our neck flexibility, but perhaps it was meant to be. Maybe it was the universe shoving us together, somewhere in the bowels of Forks General, for a bigger reason. Something beyond the two of us - the greater purpose we've been searching for, aimlessly wandering alone.

They hear the click-clack of the nurse's kitten heels before they see her, all five feet, two inches of thinly-veiled disapproval.

"Seth Clearwater. The doctor has cleared you for discharge. You may leave," she says, ticking some miniscule box on her clipboard.

"Same to you, Miss Stanley. Rest up, use ice, and give Dr Gerandy a call if you have any further pain."

With a sharp nod, she scribbles a note on her chart, clip-clopping away to visit another poor soul in the sea of patients. In her absence, he has Jess' full attention - something equally thrilling and mortifying.

Seth looks at Jess, eyes full of hope.

Jess looks at Seth, vaguely less murderous than an hour prior.

"Well, I don't suppose you could spot me a coffee, then?"

"Jess, it would be my honour. Lead the way."

(Seth will ardently deny that he didn't hit the bollard on the way out of the hospital parking lot, but Jess knows the truth. His driving has grown to be endearing, somehow.)