Thanks to Loopy Lou, Lotty de Bonte, and Sally Hopkinson aka Alice's White Rabbit. Thank you for being with me!
Stephenie Meyer owns the original characters. I own this peculiar AH plot.

Chapter 2

*MOHAI - Museum of History and Industry, Seattle, Lake Union Park

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual events is purely coincidental.

Carlisle enjoyed the wonderful weather, sitting cross-legged on the balcony and sipping delicious tea. The morning newspaper lay folded and abandoned on his lap, with all the mundane news, irrelevant obituaries, and dull crossword long forgotten, while the old man peacefully reminisced about his youth.

Back in the day, he'd been a respected member of the Board of MOHAI*. He had prided himself on being the only heir of one of the original founders of the Seattle Historical Society. It seemed only natural he'd been married to the most amazing woman on the planet, his Esme. The fact they weren't able to have children only saddened him on rare occasions. Life had been exquisitely fulfilling, and his youth wasn't tainted by any major troubles.

Unfortunately, his happy times hadn't lasted long. Esme died at the age of 29. The museum was forced to move to new premises. The imbecile low-lifes from the new Management, all blinded by that disgusting man, Aristotle Volturi, had ruined it all.

Carlisle Cullen had started a war with them and had lost. He had retired two years ago, at the age of 70, from the humiliating position of a janitor at his beloved museum.

With his mood gone down the drain, Carlisle sighed and got up to his feet. The tea was cold; he needed a refill. Then a short nap, maybe.

Giving it a second thought, Carlisle decided the nap was more urgent than a second cup of tea. A couple minutes later, he was in his bed, having just closed his eyes. He would easily drift to sleep if it wasn't for the loud, rhythmic thumping of feet which started over his head. Obviously, his neighbors from the third floor had initiated a dance class, he assumed. Ah, youth.

Edward tried to repeat Bella's movements but to no avail. Perhaps his lanky limbs weren't designed for dancing. Or he lacked a sense of rhythm. Or both. Whatever the reason, he only managed an impression of a stumbling toddler, resulting in a not flattering giggle coming from the attractive young lady.

"Oh, come on, you did better at the club last night, Edward," Bella pouted.

"I was drunk, sweetheart," Edward retorted. "No barriers and all; you know the drill."

"I think booze doesn't help the uncoordinated, my friend. Must have been something else."

"Maybe it's because I wasn't trying to impress you last night," Edward muttered.

Bella stiffened and debated her answer for a while. "Are you trying to impress me now, Edward?" she whispered softly. "You're doing fine." Her hand reached for his cheek, and her forefinger caressed the skin over his cheekbone gently. "You'd better not rely on a dancing career though," she added and burst into another fit of giggles.

"Am I interrupting?" Jasper's voice came from the kitchen door, startling them. Both Bella's and Edward's head snapped round; they hadn't heard him approaching.

Bella smiled.

As for Edward, well, he wondered if anyone saw his jaw drop for a fraction of a second. He was quick to close his mouth, but no one could stop him from ogling what Jasper looked like at the moment. He's practically naked under that tiny towel, Edward thought, following one droplet of water with his eyes. The descent of that droplet was fascinating, all the way down Jasper's chest and abdomen, until it disappeared in the light, curly hairs of his happy trail. All in all, Jasper had a model's body, Edward concluded, and all that wetness, glistening on broad shoulders, with the addition of shiny droplets hanging from clustered, long eyelashes, served him well . Wonder who the lucky lady enjoying this body is.

Edward smiled too.

"We're trying to repeat a few steps from last night, and you're not interrupting," Bella's answer echoed through the kitchen.

All three realized the building was very quiet. Oddly quiet. Or maybe it was just them, slightly nervous and thus exaggerating the silence?

The awkwardness disappeared with a loud bang coming from under their feet.

"Pfft, that's old Carlisle," Bella explained to a horrified-looking Edward. "He loves his peace and quiet. He's banging on the ceiling with his broomstick."

"And here I thought the building was haunted," Edward snorted nervously to hide his embarrassment.

"Look, folks. We'd better go out and eat, whaddya say?" Bella suggested. "How does the Bistro around the corner sound, Jas?"

"Yeah." Jasper was okay with the suggestion. Really okay. "You two go; I'll join in a few."

For obvious reasons, Jasper was quick to get dried and dressed. A very tight, black turtleneck shirt was picked for a top. He jumped into his favorite jeans, the pair that outlined his buttocks deliciously, or so he believed. A wide, light brown leather belt was looped in no time, fastened with an impressively huge, shiny, silver belt buckle. Brown cowboy boots finished the ensemble.

Jasper very much wanted to know the reasons for Edward's—How was that? Ah, right—lack of performance last night. He intended to join Bella and Edward as soon as possible and start a conversation about it. He left the apartment in a hurry and descended the first flight of stairs, taking two steps at a time. But then his guilty conscience raised its head. He remembered the old man from the second floor and, suddenly, decided to apologize first then go on with his mission of getting to know Edward.

So, he found himself knocking on Carlisle's door instead of running to the Bistro.

Slow footsteps approached the old man's door from the inside. He must have looked through the spy hole and recognized his visitor because the door was opened immediately.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Jasper?" Carlisle asked.

"Um, I wanted to say we were sorry, sir. For the noise."

"Ah, that's okay." The old man nodded and added a small smile. "Thanks, anyway."

Jasper thought he should turn on his heel and leave, the voice of his conscience now silenced. But then, his neighbor decided to speak further.

"Care to join me for tea, or coffee maybe?" The old man's voice was pleading.

Jasper was raised to be polite to his elders. But he was in a hurry, damn! He was about to refuse when his guilty conscience chose to raise its head once again, so he came up with a compromise.

"Sir, I'm in a bit of a hurry right now. But what if I drop by with my friends this afternoon? We will bring donuts, too. Say, 2 p.m.? Will that be all right?" Jasper blurted out. Hope they're fine with it.

"Do I get to see lovely Bella?" Carlisle smiled.

"Yup."

"See you at 2 p.m. then." The old man closed the door. "Bring cookies," his muffled voice came from the inside.

Jasper ran down the rest of the stairs, around the corner, and was already panting when he got to the Bistro.

"Did you order?" he asked his friends when he joined them. They had picked a table with two long seats at the sides. Edward was already sitting next to Bella, leaving Jasper with no choice but to sit across from him.

"Yes, mushroom ravioli," Bella answered first.

"And Coke," Edward added.

Jasper noticed Edward wasn't looking at him when he spoke. In fact, he was looking at him, but not in the eyes. Edward's gaze was stuck on the material of the black turtleneck, somewhere around Jasper's outlined right nipple. That only lasted a short moment though, then Edward turned his gaze to Bella; he curled an arm around her shoulders. "We chose the same meal, isn't that interesting?"

Jasper huffed. "I see. Interesting."

You are interesting, indeed, Edward, he added to himself.

A waitress appeared with their orders; Jasper asked for a burger and fries.