I know I left you hanging with the last chapter and Carlisle's appearance. I had hoped to get this chapter out a bit sooner; but it seemed to take me forever, bbs. It just was not flowing this week.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything Twilight-related, but I am now the proud owner of a hard copy of the CD Monster De Lux, by 100 Monkeys.
-o-
Jasper
"Jasper Whitlock. Great to meet you, Dr. Cullen," I grasp his hand firmly and shake, doing my best to smile and keep my voice level.
"Welcome to Northwest Hospital, Jasper," he returns a genuinely pleasant smile.
"Thanks very much, sir," I reply, and he stands aside to allow me to enter my office, following me as I toss my coat and briefcase onto the sideboard, and place his file folder on my desk. "Please have a seat. I hope I haven't kept you waiting." Even though I'm fifteen minutes early.
"Please call me Carlisle. And no, on the contrary, I'm grateful that your assistant was able to switch the appointments around so you could meet with me today. I have a surgery scheduled for 11:30 this morning. I'm booked solid for the next few days; and then out of town, as you heard."
"Would you like a cup of coffee, Carlisle?" I offer.
"I'd love one – black, please," he smiles.
"One moment, please; I'll have Kathleen look after it for us, and then we'll get started." I send Kathleen down to the cafeteria for some of the "good" coffee, and then sit at my desk and start spreading out the information.
"So - from where are you joining us?" Carlisle asks conversationally.
"San Francisco Children's. I was there for three years after I graduated college," I reply.
"Well, I guess we'll be learning the Northwest ropes at the same time. I've only been here a month myself," he replies.
"Really?" I ask.
"Yes, I've been at Swedish since my residency," he remarks. "The Chief of Surgery here was retiring, and I was offered her position. It was a difficult decision to move after having been there for so many years. But, nothing worth having is easy, I suppose."
Indeed. If he only knew.
We chat for a few minutes longer until Kathleen returns with our coffee; and then we start looking at draft budget numbers for the surgical department in the upcoming fiscal year. He has some interesting visions for raising Northwest's profile on the surgical front; many of them have more to do with PR than with finance, but the potential is there for our department to both provide support for some programs, and to benefit from them as well.
Amazingly, I find I have very little trouble concentrating on the task at hand – no small accomplishment, considering the circumstances. Though he's clearly passionate about what he does and his vision for the surgical department, he has a gentle nature; I feel very much at ease around him.
After we set a tentative agenda for our next meeting, he thanks me and rises to leave. As he shakes my hand, he says, "I hope you enjoy Seattle, Jasper. Though I suppose you won't see a great deal of difference from San Francisco, climate-wise. More rain here, of course," he chuckles.
Without thinking, I answer, "Actually, I grew up in Seattle--" and then I catch myself, and I barely suppress a groan. He's looking at me with interest so I have to supply a bit more detail. "I lived here until I was sixteen; and then my father's company transferred him to their headquarters in Austin."
"Really? What part of Seattle did you live in?" he asks curiously.
"Queen Anne." This is getting dangerous.
"My wife and I live in Magnolia – we must have been practically neighbors," he smiles. "Lovely neighborhood. Where did you go to school?"
And here we go. No way to avoid it now. "Lake Union Prep."
"Oh, yes; it's an excellent school. My son and daughter both went there."
I had to say I grew up in Seattle. I couldn't have just said, Yes, I expect the rain will take some getting used to. I reply, "Right, Edward Cullen. We were in the same grade."
His eyes cloud a bit at the mention of Edward, and I try to be surreptitious about watching him closely for his reaction. I wonder whether he's going to talk about Edward at all. He hesitates a moment; and then he smiles, though there's a sadness in his eyes.
"Edward is a photographer now," he says simply.
"I've seen some of his work," I offer. And there's another awkward moment of silence. I look down at my desk and painstakingly rearrange my post-it notes.
Again, he's the one to break it. "Are your family still in Texas?"
"My parents are; my sister and her family are in San Diego," I reply, still not meeting his gaze.
"Well, from the sounds of your conversation with your secretary, you've already made a friend here in Seattle."
My head whips up to meet his gaze. You've got to be kidding me. After the great meeting we've just had, he's going to give me some homophobic bullshit? I'm already squaring my shoulders and pulling out the Jazz Stare; but he holds up one hand to me, bidding me not to speak, and he says, "I'm sorry - I couldn't help overhearing your conversation; but no judgment here, son. I'm glad you're building a support system in Seattle."
He extends his hand. Dazedly, I shake it and reply, "Thank you…sir."
"It's Carlisle. I look forward to meeting with you again, Jasper. Have a great day," and he turns and strides out of my office, offering a parting pleasantry to Kathleen as he passes her desk.
"Have a great day…," I murmur, though there's no chance he heard me. I collapse into my chair, wondering what the hell just happened. Is this really Edward's father? The one who I assumed was so awful to Edward when he came out, that they have no relationship now?
As I stare out my office window, Kathleen approaches and stands by my desk. Finally I turn to her and she's waiting, expectantly.
"Yes, Kathleen?" I finally ask.
"'Yes Kathleen'?" she repeats. "Is that all you have to say? I want details!"
"Oh. Well, I think he'll make a good chief of surgery. He has some ideas about the…what…what are you staring at?" I trail off, realizing that she's looking at me as though I'm the world's greatest moron.
"Jasper, seriously, I'm not wildly curious about the details of your meeting with Dr. Cullen!" she rolls her eyes. "I'm sure I'll get the highlights when I transcribe your notes. I want details about the best weekend of your life!!
"Oh!" I blush. This could be bad. Kathleen is adorable, of course; but she's also an incurable gossip. Not in a malicious way – but I seriously doubt her ability to keep staff-related news to herself. If she had any hint that the boy of my dreams is Dr. Cullen's son, I could expect Carlisle Cullen in my office for a very different kind of meeting, likely in under an hour. Besides – this is private. No one really knows yet, besides Edward and me. That'll change when we go to Spin, of course; but I just want to hold on to this sweet secret for a while longer. I'm allowed to be a bit selfish.
So, difficult as it is, I manage to get her to retreat, using the excuse that I need to flesh out my meeting notes while they're still fresh in my mind. She scowls a bit, then promises that we'll have lunch together one day this week and she'll drag it out of me then. Remind me to schedule lunch meetings all week long.
I have her close her door on my way out, and then I sink back into my chair and return my focus to my conversation with Carlisle. It hasn't really answered any questions for me; instead, I find new ones arising.
I guess we'll be learning the Northwest ropes at the same time. I've only been here a month myself. Only a month – it's clearly plausible that Edward has no idea his father works at Northwest. It would explain why he didn't mention it when I told him where I was working. If that's correct, however, it also confirms what I've suspected since that first morning in his apartment: Edward isn't in contact with his family.
But why isn't he? Carlisle volunteered the information that both kids went to Lake Union. He could have just said 'my daughter', ignoring Edward altogether. It would have made sense to do so if he had been the one to cut Edward out of his life. Carlisle was respectful and friendly to me, even though he clearly knew I was gay before he even laid eyes on me. I'm glad you're building a support system in Seattle. Those aren't the words of a homophobe.
Edward, on the other hand, has never mentioned his parents once – even in passing. And I can't ignore the implications. Is this Edward's choice? Is he truly someone who would willingly cut himself off from his family?
Instantly all the fears that flooded me that night in my apartment, come rushing back. I try to examine Edward objectively, but it's nearly impossible. Because I am anything but objective when it comes to Edward.
I'm already in so deep with Edward. I love him. And I'm certain that, even if he doesn't know how to say it, he loves me too. In his way.
In his way. Is his way enough?
It is now.
What about in a year if he still hasn't told you he loves you? Will he ever be able to change?
He's already changed a great deal.
Not enough to be in touch with his family.
I don't know what the history is – what things might have been said, by both sides. I do know how Edward changed that year in school; it was a defense mechanism, I'm sure of it. It couldn't have been solely because of we went to school with.
Jesus. I feel like my fucking head is about to explode. I have had too many questions go unanswered in the past week. I have been patient with Edward and I don't regret that – but very quickly we've progressed to a place where it's time to start discussing some of the deeper stuff. Time grow a set and broach the subject with Edward. Hab mut, meinen Kas, my Oma used to say. Have courage, my Kas.
We're not going to see each other tonight; and tomorrow night is our date at Spin. I'm looking forward to seeing him there; and if I'm being entirely honest with myself, I can't deny that I can't fucking wait for those twinks to see that Edward has a…yes, I'm going to let myself say it…boyfriend.
Maybe I should take him to dinner this Friday night. I can wait till then; it'll give me time to decide how best to approach the conversation. He doesn't have to go out of town again till Monday. Friday should give us lots of time to talk, and some recovery time if it becomes emotional. I pull out my phone to send him a text.
Hey, beautiful – hope you're having a great day. May I take you out to dinner on Friday night? Love Kas xoxo
A moment later my phone vibrates.
Can't live without me, huh? Well, the feeling is mutual, angel. Friday sounds great. Where? – E
No way, I get to surprise you, I text back.
Can't wait. :)
Okay. I have a date; and not just with Edward - with Edward's truth. I just hope he's willing to share it with me.
-o-
Tuesday night. I'm standing on the sidewalk outside Spin, waiting for my beautiful boy to join me. I'm a few minutes earlier than our agreed-upon time; in fact, I was ready to leave the house an hour and a half before I needed to be. I'm excited to see him, watch him dance, feel his body against mine...and every fucking boy in that club is going to have their jealous eyes on me.
I fidget with my coat sleeve as I wait. I'm wearing my favorite jeans; they're low-slung, slim through the hips and boot-cut. I've decided on a pair of black suede cowboy boots tonight; and a slim, fine-knit sleeveless sweater in a particularly flattering shade of cream. I smile a bit smugly, knowing it outlines my pecs perfectly. My black wool jacket is open, despite the chilly, damp air; and I'm getting some very unsubtle looks from the boys who pass me on their way into the club. Just you wait – I'll give you something to gawk at, very shortly.
Soon I see Edward's head bobbing towards me, his burnished locks reflecting the bright colors of the neon signs he's passing on his way down the street. Ever since we made this date, I've been wondering how he'll act around me in public. Yes, we've been "in public" a couple of times already; but never in a truly social situation. Especially this one – where everyone in the club knows him; or rather, knows his reputation.
So it is with some trepidation that I watch him draw closer. Finally he sees me as well, through the crowd of boys that swarm around the entrance to the club. He smiles – not a big smile, but one that's just for me – and gives me a wink. He starts to make his way through the crowd, then suddenly stops, scowling at something over my right shoulder. Just as I'm about to turn to see what he's looking at, I feel a hand on my elbow. I swivel to see who's touching me, and find myself looking right into a pair of bright blue eyes.
I recognize this boy; he was here the first two nights I came looking for Edward. He's my height, red-haired and definitely handsome - and definitely a top. In fact, I'd say he's nearly as popular among the twinks as Edward is. I know I heard his name at some point; I'm trying to remember it when he eliminates the necessity.
"Hello, handsome," he drawls in an accent that I clearly recognize as Texan. "I'm David. And you are?"
"Waiting for someone." I finish his sentence, calmly but pointedly, while trying to slide my elbow out of his hand.
"Well, now; is this a particular someone? Or are you just hoping someone will come along?" His voice is deep and honey-like – almost smarmy.
"Oh, Jazz is very particular, David," I hear Edward say from over my shoulder, and his hand slides into mine. "He only wants the best."
David's lip curls into a sneer, instantly transforming his face from handsome to ugly. "Well, how unfortunate that he's settling for a distant second, then," he snarls, pulling away from me, and then adds, "Come see me, sugar, when you get tired of playing in the sandbox and want a real man." He spins on his heel and stalks away – as best as one can stalk through a crowd of excited 18-year-olds.
I can't help it – I burst out laughing. The whole situation is ridiculous; just a pissing contest. I've seen it so many times – guys try to prove how manly they are, by acting like little boys. Edward joins my laughter as he watches David's retreating back; then, still holding my hand, places our joined hands behind my back and pulls me close for a kiss. It's deep and long, and leaves me a little breathless when he finally pulls away.
"Hi," he says, smiling.
"Hi, yourself!" I reply with a grin.
"Sorry I kept you waiting; I didn't realize the wolves would descend." He throws a mildly disgusted glance in David's direction again.
"Nothing I couldn't handle," I roll my eyes. "Now – can we go inside? I'm freezing!"
"No law against doing up your coat," he grins at me. "Although, maybe there should be. If you did it up, I wouldn't be able to see your chest. Fuck, you look hot."
"So do you, beautiful," I smile back, and start to back up in the direction of the door, gently pulling him with me, drawing him into the club.
A few moments later, our coats are checked, and we're standing at the bar waiting for drinks. Edward looks absolutely miraculous in slim black pants and a snug, black V-neck tee. The club lights pulse and swirl across his back, highlighting his strong shoulders. The bartender slides Edward our drinks – scotch for him, a vodka tonic for me – and he picks them up and turns to me to hand me mine. Before I take a sip, he holds his glass up and waits for me to lift mine. I clink mine against his, and he leans in close to my ear and says, "Here's to us." I smile and then down my drink, as he does his.
Before the glass leaves my lips, a twink is standing at Edward's elbow. He's cute enough, I suppose; but not terribly tall, and probably weighs a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet. He has on a pair of skinny jeans, and a tiny white t-shirt that barely covers his sternum. "Edward!" he shouts, jumping up and down, then turns to call his friends over. "Edward's back!"
Edward leans in to me and says into my ear, "I think it's time to hit the dance floor." I nod and grab his hand, starting to pull him to the floor; but before I've gone far, the swarm reaches us. They all talk at once, like a group of excited kindergarten children, asking Edward where he's been, telling him they're so glad he's back. His hand is still in mine, though our arms are stretched between us as we are pushed farther apart. He grasps tighter, looking only at me; completely ignoring the shouting from around him.
Finally one of the twinks turns to me and gives me an evil scowl. "Who the fuck are you?" he demands ungraciously.
Edward's gaze finally leaves me; he turns a withering stare to the insolent brat, and in his velvet voice, he says, "He's someone important. Unlike you." With that, he pushes through the remainder of the crowd and leaves them gaping, open-mouthed, as he slides his arm around me and he pulls me in the direction of the dance floor. For the second time since I met him, I have the overwhelming urge to stick my tongue out at them. This time I manage to fight it, and instead concentrate on the beautiful, confident god who's leading me through the dancing crowds.
We reach a spot near the middle where the crowd is a bit thinner; here Edward turns to me and, placing his hands on my hips, pulls me close to him. We start to sway together, our hips moving in sync, and the pounding beat takes over. As he did in my apartment, Edward loses himself completely in the music. Every few moments, his eyes close and his head lolls back as though he's floating on a cloud of synthesized notes and drum machine beats. When his eyes are open, they are only for me; they bore into mine, conveying his smoldering desire. When his body presses into mine, I can feel his hard cock straining against his pants; and I rub against him, pushing my cock against his. His eyes close and his mouth parts slightly; I can't hear the moan I know is escaping his lips. Suddenly I wish we weren't here – I wish we were back at his apartment where I could toss him on his bed, pin him down and take that beautiful cock all the way down my throat.
But instead, we're here at the club; and when I look around me, it feels as though every eye in the place is on us. Some of the boys glare at me; some, mainly the ones who are clearly tops within our age group, look mildly amused; some are just plain astonished. And it's easy to understand why. The glares are for the newcomer who doesn't seem to know his place in the pecking order. The amusement is to see another top bite the dust, get into a relationship. And the astonishment is because, of all the people they could imagine it happening to, I'm sure Edward's is a name that never would have come up in conjecture.
But Edward seems oblivious to all the attention. So I try to follow his lead. I focus on him, and on our bodies moving in unison to the music. When he puts one hand around the back of my neck and pulls me in close to tell me, "You're so fucking hot, Kas," it's as though everything and everyone else, fade away. The music is still here, the lights pulse around us; but the speculative looks, and the faces they belong to, are gone. It's just sweaty bodies and hard cocks and soft lips against my neck and his strong hand sliding across my ass.
Finally I can't fucking stand it anymore. I lean close to his ear to say, "Please take me home and fuck me, beautiful." Abruptly he grabs my hand and pulls me in the direction of the door. As we pass the smart-mouthed twink from earlier, I catch his eye; I purse my lips in a bit of a smirk and I cock one eyebrow, nodding slightly at him. Suck it, bitch. I am the one he's taking home – tonight, and every fucking night.
-o-
Some big, big thanks to extend to some people who helped me tremendously with this chapter. A reader on , faite-comme-moi, gave me some much-needed insight into hospital hierarchy and pre-read a few paragraphs to help me make sure I was on the right track. It was much appreciated. My friend Lori helped this Anglophone with the German language stuff; and Jenna, a transplanted Washingtonian, gave me some help with the Seattle neighbourhoods.
Lake Union Prep is fictional. But the rush I get when my inbox fills up with reviews, is one hundred per cent real, bbs.
I posted a new story yesterday here on ; it was my guest author entry on Twilighted's Friday Free-For-All. It's called We Three, and I sincerely hope you'll check it out.