A/N: Stephenie Meyer owns, I just play

It's funny, but I think I actually missed the territorial little mutts that usually made my long runs a cacophonous hell. There was this bulldog that would always hear me round the corner onto Division Street, and he would sound out a gruff little baritone alarm to alert all the other dogs on the block. This poor thing would waddle up to the fence so slowly, leaving a trail of drool in its wake, that I'd be long past him by the time he got to the edge of his yard to protect it.

Coach had decided on endurance training for everyone, so we were out on the streets, showing off our sweaty Forks High gym clothes for anyone who cared to watch. Jasper had sped past me long ago, but I would never have tried to keep up with him anyway. My sprint times were still a few seconds too long, even for training purposes, but my knee hadn't really been a problem and that made me optimistic.

I smiled as I passed the yappy beagle. Running was so refreshing; with my feet slapping the pavement and the chilly air drying my sweat against my hairline, I felt like myself again. I inhaled deeply, filtering in the scent of mulch and roses that told me Mrs. Finch and her shi-tzu would be enjoying their mid-afternoon power sit just a few houses up.

As I rounded the next corner I caught sight of the school and, with it, came reminders of everything I needed to do. I was supposed to stop by the guidance counselor's office by the end of the week to tell Mrs. Cope which schools my SAT scores, transcript and letters of recommendation should be sent to. Jasper had already done his, when he'd submitted his early application to Cornell. All the Cullens seemed sure he'd get in, since it was Esme's alma mater, so everyone in the house was in pretty high spirits about the whole college process.

I still wanted to go to Princeton, maybe just because I had always planned on it, but the idea of leaving Ali alone in the same city as Dad's house and maybe even Dad himself made me feel like the world's shittiest brother. I had picked a few local colleges, in Forks, Port Angeles and Seattle, and when Esme had asked about my college choices at dinner, the whole family had been stunned. Esme was visibly flustered, Jas refused to make eye contact, and Carlisle had gone into a fairly diplomatic speech about how I was gifted with intelligence and should take advantage of that when pursuing an undergraduate degree. He pushed the idea of applying to Princeton and Cornell and, when I didn't budge, he even mentioned Stanford as a closer but still-top-tier alternative.

Who knew if I could even get in there? It didn't matter, either way. I needed to be as local as possible – maybe even just take online courses, in case I needed to get a job to convince the state of Washington to give me custody of Alice. I was hoping it wouldn't come to that though. Why couldn't things just stay the way they were? Dad was gone, Alice was happy – well, as happy as she was going to be – at Bella's, and I knew that I didn't have to worry about her there.

Except that, of course, I did. It had been almost two weeks since I'd asked Alice to make some time to talk, and she'd been steadfastly avoiding it ever since. The closer I felt to Jasper, the more there was between us that she didn't know about, the farther I felt from her. And that was wrong. She was my sister, my only true family. We had leaned on each other through the worst times imaginable, and survived them together. I wanted her to know about my life, and how it had changed… for the better.

Things with Jasper really were amazing. Like, mind-boggling. A month ago he was my best friend, and I never thought twice about that, and now he was, well, everything I wanted and more. Thinking back on it, maybe he always was, but now I knew it. When he stepped up behind me to place his lips on my neck, or held my hand under the kitchen table… all I could think was, Jeez, I'm so happy. And I tried to show him that, or tell him that. When he'd crawl into my bed after his parents were asleep, I'd whisper how happy I was to have him there, to hold him, to touch him.

I think I had kissed every single part of Jasper not covered by his boxers. We'd curl around each other in bed as we talked and giggled, finding ourselves in new and interesting configurations. I quickly realized that Jas was ticklish. I mean, I always knew that, in theory, but now my hands were frequently in places that made him squirm, and while he'd twist and turn under my touch I'd often kiss whatever skin was in front of me, just because I could. He'd usually retaliate by kissing me back in that exact same place, and I was beginning to worry less and less about being found out. Obviously, I never wanted his parents to find us in a compromising situation again, but when it was just him and me, snuggled into our own personal cocoon of arms and smiles, it was hard to care about anything else.

The past few nights I'd been unable to resist Jas's charms. And by charms I meant just the way he'd stroke just his fingertips along my back, the way he'd whisper how good I felt into my ear, and the way his tautchest felt against mine. In the faint moonlight of the guestroom, I could just make out the whites of his eyes and the plump pout of his lips as they reached to kiss and suckle my skin. We had lost our boxers to the tangled mess of sheets around our ankles several times and groped each other wantonly. I had felt him thrusting with abandon into my hand, and him encircling both our dicks with his large hand, pumping them against each other until I was panting and begging into his ear.

The first time we ventured back into new territory, naked territory, it took me forever to slide my palms from the back of his thighs to what was begging for my attention the most. I could feel it, bobbing against my skin, leaving little lines of pearly wetness in my happy trail. Jas wasn't so hesitant, going straight for the good stuff. When he wrapped his fingers around my member for the first time since, well, the only time, I moaned so loudly he had to kiss me to shut me up. He stroked me without preamble, twisting his palm over the sensitive head until I was quivering and panting into his mouth.

Remembering it now, even though the memory was sexy as all hell, it was embarrassing too. First of all, I'd been as uncertain as a newborn foal. Even when I'd been so close to coming, my fingers were still digging shallow divots into his firm behind. I knew I should reciprocate, but before I got up the nerve my bodily functions had been rendered useless by pleasure.

He had amazing hands. I wanted to build shrines and spend my days in prayer to those hands. "That feels amazing, Jas," I whispered with harsh breaths. "You're so good."

"Practice," he mumbled against my lips.

My second shortcoming of the night was that I completely failed to understand even the most obvious things when he had his hands on me. "You practiced?"
"Of course," he whispered, pulling away from me slightly to try to make eye contact – a useless gesture in the pitch black room.

I didn't really understand how he could just say that, especially with his hand wrapped around my dick. I knew my brain felt fuzzy, but I really didn't like the idea of him practicing. It bothered me. It put unpleasant images in my head – images that did not include me, and that pissed me off. I mean, I thought this was something we were doing together, figuring out together. "With who? When?"

There was a brief moment in which I was prepared to hate whatever name came out of his mouth. Instead of answering, though, he laughed. First a little snicker, then a full-on laugh. Then he mashed his mouth against mine for a wet, tongue-heavy kiss.

For my part, I refused to be distracted. "Who?" I demanded because, well, apparently I'm a little dense. Especially when all my blood has drained to my dick.

"Who do you think?" I could tell he was smiling from the curve of his lip, which he kept pressed again my own. Even his unashamed boldness didn't clue me in that I was getting worked up over nothing, though, until he said, "You, silly. Well, with myself, picturing you."

That's when I finally got it, and felt like quite the dumbass.

Duh. Practice. Of course Jas jacked off in the shower, we all did. I should have known he hadn't been with anyone else. That's when the embarrassment kicked in, and I might have even let my blunder ruin the mood if Jas hadn't continued, still running his fingers across my straining flesh.

"If you're jealous, though, I can picture you fighting with pretend-you for my affections. Mmm," he hummed against my mouth, "two Edwards. Unless it's the washcloth you're angry at."

I wasn't angry at the washcloth, I just wanted to replace it. And there was no need to masturbate in secret anymore, or leave Jas to take care of himself either. I was right there, naked and rubbing myself shamelessly on my incredibly sexy boyfriend, with years of my own practice sessions under my belt. When he pointed out all the practice we had, this didn't seem so intimidating.

Without another word, I brought one hand between us and wrapped my fingers around the base of his dick, sliding them quickly to the tip. That was how I liked it.

Jas's reaction was much stronger than I'd anticipated, I just couldn't tell if it was good or bad.

"Oh!" he yelled, but it kind of got stuck in his throat, and his whole body tensed and curled up. "Wait," he pleaded, grabbing at my wrist to still my movement. "Edward, wait. Just a sec."

I did as he asked, giving him a minute to pant and gasp and straighten his body out again. He didn't try to pull out of my grip though.

Finally, I asked, "Are you okay?"

In one swift movement he rolled on top of me, pressing both his hard dick and my hand against my stomach. Trailing his lips to my ear he whispered, "I have been aching for this since your birthday. I refuse to come that quickly."

The weight of him was reassuring, molding over me like a thick comforter, but I remember wanting him even closer, if that was even possible. I bucked up into him, enjoying the slick friction of his body against mine.

He groaned and whispered, "Slowly, please."

So that's what I did. I stroked him slowly, caressing him until I could actually feel the pulse of his need in the base of his cock. He was smooth, and soft. I did all my favorite tricks: trailing my fingers up the underside, only to circle the tip and run them back down the top, twisting my palm around the bulging head, and dipping a finger in the precum to spread it in that most sensitive spot, just below the head.

He was panting most of the time, sometimes groaning and other times digging his fingers into the flesh of my shoulders. Often, both. His grunts became my new favorite sound, and it wasn't long before they merged into one long moan into my ear. Feeling him shake and spasm above me was not only sexy as hell but it made me feel sexy too, and powerful.

Usually I hated getting jizz on me, but when Jasper collapsed against me, squelching the sticky stuff all over my stomach, I just moved my hands up to brush the hair from his sweaty face. He couldn't see the adoring smile on my face, but it was there just for him anyway. He was awfully cute when he had just come – that was something new I learned.

Jas soon caught his breath, and it wasn't long after that that he was silencing the cries of my orgasm with his own mouth.

The next few nights had held much of the same, and I didn't get so embarrassed anymore, now that I understood the rush of making him come, moaning, against my flat stomach.

I really couldn't think about that any more, though, if I wanted to make it back to the gym without cramping. I had to shake those thoughts from my head, because it was uncomfortable to run with all my blood pulsing between my legs instead of through my muscles. That was also something new I'd learned this week.

Sure enough, though, as I trotted up to my locker, which I'd made sure was in the same row as his back when we were both freshmen track-hopefuls, the sight of him tucking his towel around his freshly showered hips ruined any hopes I had of willing my half-stiffy away. I swear, my little guy really was an army cadet, required to salute its commanding officer any time he came into view. And Jasper certainly had command over it…

Jas's skin was sprinkled with opalescent droplets left over from his shower, and with each movement more dripped from the lightly-curled dirty blond hair he'd pushed behind his ears. As he moved to retrieve his clothes I could see the strong, overlaying muscles in his back stretching and rippling. His towel sat low enough that I could see two prominent dimples just above his ass. They seemed to be the perfect size for my fingertips, or my tongue.

Guh, how was I supposed to shower like this?

I opened my locker and pulled out a drink for myself. In my peripheral vision I could see Jas working his long biceps, pulling on a pair of boxer briefs under his towel.

I promptly looked away, both condemning and adoring him for being so goddamned sexy. Facing away from him, I stripped my own shirt off and pulled a towel from my locker to wrap around my own hips. My rustling didn't cover the soft sounds of his footsteps though.

Instead of speaking, I felt him press his warm lips against the nape of my neck, leaving a brief, tender kiss. It startled my thrumming senses, and I shivered.

"Mm, salty."

Looking back across my own shoulder, I saw his nose wrinkle up as he tried to smack his lips to get rid of the taste.

I had to giggle. What did he expect? I had been running for nearly an hour. "That's what you get," I said, facing him and crossing my arms smugly.

"That's okay," he whispered conspiratorially, "I like you wet and salty."

I rolled my eyes at his awful pun, or innuendo, or whatever he was trying to do, but refused to think about the implications. We were in a public locker room, for god's sake. Just to match his level of maturity, I stuck my tongue out in distaste and waggled it at him.

Gripping my forearms to pull himself closer, he quickly latched onto my lips and sucked my tongue fully into his mouth. It felt good, but weird, and I gasped. I tried to pull my tongue back, but his teeth scraped along it roughly, leaving it tender and pulsing.

"Owth," I said, covering my mouth with a hand.

If I was looking for repentance, though, I wasn't going to get it.

"I was just trying to steal a kiss," he teased, winking playfully.

I checked over my shoulder to make sure no one was within hearing distance and said, "Not now, Jas."

The line of his mouth hardened, becoming austere almost immediately. "What's wrong with now?"

"I have to shower."

"It was just one kiss."

Didn't he understand? This place was far too open – anyone could pass our row of lockers and see us at any time. Plus, I still had to get naked with these guys.

"No," I said, motioning downwards with a nod. "I have to shower. With them. Like this."

His smile returned slightly, but not before he cupped his hands around my jaw and pulled me in for another moist kiss.

"Jasper!" I whined against his mouth.

"Oh go on, Mike's been stiff for like ten minutes anyway. It happens."

Did it? It had never happened to me, and I had no idea if it happened to the other guys because I never looked. But Jasper knew… Jasper looked! And no one had ever said anything about it. Did the rest of them look too?

With a soft pinch to my ass, Jasper sent me on my way, and after a few minutes of thinking about wrinkled old Mrs. Finch and her dumbass shi-tzu I bared all and stepped under the hot spray of the gym showers.

Sure enough, Mike had a little more perk in his penis than the rest of them – excluding me. It was mostly pink, arching forward at a slight angle. I wondered what it would look like fully extended.

Then I realized I really was staring, and quickly pulled my eyes to the floor. Besides, Mike's wasn't the one I was interested in.

Plus, now that I knew a few stray glances wouldn't get me into any trouble, I relished the thought of finally seeing Jasper's in the light.

He didn't try any more hanky panky in the locker room, or on the ride home after we dropped off Bella, but I was still aching for the chance to get him naked once again. That would have to wait until we were in bed, though.

At dinner, Esme was all a-bustle over colleges, rejoicing over how much Jas was going to love Cornell. Now that his app was in, she had been turning most of her helpful-mother energy onto me.

"Edward, aren't your college choices due to the guidance office this week?"

How did she even know that? Jas's were due a month ago. Plus, Rosalie seemed unnecessarily interested in the conversation, which only made me more uncomfortable.

"Umm, yeah. I'll get them in."

"Have you picked any new colleges?"

"Not yet," I said meekly, pushing mashed potatoes around on my plate in sticky little clumps.

A brief and awkward silence descended on the table, but I was saved from another lecture by a knock on the door.

With a subtle but message-laden glance to Carlisle, she folded her napkin and placed it beside her plate before standing up. "I'll get it."

I glanced at Jasper, who was studiously cutting his pork chop, refusing to weigh in on my selection of schools. He'd never mentioned it when we were alone, and I was still hesitant to bring it up, because I was pretty sure he agreed with Carlisle.

I shimmied my foot toward him, trying to let my knee touch his in the hopes that he might look up and I could finally read his expression. I was distracted, though, by Esme's startled greeting.

"Charlie? How are – is everything alright?"

"Hello, Esme," came his gruff voice. "Is Edward here?"

I was on my feet immediately, taking in the sight of Esme looking up at a fully uniformed Chief Swan, hat and nightstick included. In uniform meant on duty – why was Charlie here on duty, wanting to talk to me?

Esme pulled me into her side as soon as I reached her, even though I towered over her.

"Is Alice okay?" I demanded.

He blinked at me. "Course she is. Did something happen?"

Footsteps behinds me alerted me to another person coming to the door, and the heavy hand that clamped onto my shoulder told me it was Carlisle.

"Charlie," he didn't try to hide his concern. "What brings you here on duty?"

"Oh." He patted the badge on his chest almost absently with one hand, while reaching up to remove his hat with the other. "Just got off work. Thought I might have a chat with Edward before I went home."

Esme clapped a hand over her chest in a very feminine, motherly gesture. "You scared us."

He looked a bit bewildered and apologetic as he looked to each of us and behind us, where I saw Jasper was now standing.

"Sorry, Esme, wasn't trying to. Just wanted to talk, is all. Can I come in?"

We all stepped back and he left his hat on the small table by the door. "Didn't mean to catch you at dinner," he mumbled, seeing the abandoned kitchen table to his left. "Jeez, I'm sorry Esme, Carlisle. Kids."

"What can we do for you?" Carlisle asked. "Would you like to join us?" He motioned towards the kitchen.

"No, no, Bella's putting raviolis on the table tonight. Mind if I have a few minutes with Edward, though?"

Esme turned to me, to let me answer, before ushering us over to the living room sofa before heading back to the kitchen. She called out, "False alarm," to an indifferent Rosalie.

Jas lingered, but I waved him off, trying to tell him without words to just eat dinner and that I'd fill him in later.

"Hey Charlie," I said, just to get him talking.

"Hi Edward. How's everything?"

I nodded agreeably. "Fine."

"Heard you're applying to schools now. How's that going?"

Damnit, why were they all keeping track of this? "Fine," I said again. "So… what's up?"

"Oh, uh," he wiped his moustache with his thumb and forefingers before lifting one hip off the couch to pull an envelope out of his back pocket. He didn't open it, or offer it to me, and there was no writing on it to give me any clue as to what it was.

"I stopped by to see you father," he started, "after, you know."

It took me a moment to realize he wanted to talk about my dad, and maybe about what happened with Ali, but I did my best to listen anyway.

"I went over the next morning before work, but he wasn't home. I figure he'd already left by then."

Wow. I knew he'd left quickly, but that quickly? I wondered if he was already packing when I'd come to pick Alice up.

"When he didn't come back I decided to do some checking, and see if I could figure out where he was off to."

"You went in?" Did he have to break? Did Alice give him a key? Did she go with him? I didn't want her back there, even with the Chief of Police.

He grunted softly before answering. "Didn't have to. Just searched for travel tickets in his name."

"And?"

He shook his head. "Nothing."

"Oh. Yeah, his car was gone."

"Still is. I went back later to check. But I didn't see much mail there either."

Mail? I hadn't even thought about the mail.

"Edward."

My eyes snapped up to his.

"Has your dad ever been gone this long before?"

"No. Of course not. He usually…Even when I was staying at the Cullens, I had to check in every few days."

Charlie raised an eyebrow at me, but instead of the lazy-Sunday fishing Charlie, this was the eyebrow of Police Chief Swan. "Had to? Did he set up a schedule for you?"

By this time I was twisting my hands in my lap, and I dropped my head to stare at them. "No," I mumbled reluctantly.

"Did he ever ask you to come home? Or call?"

I had to think about that. Didn't he ask, at least once…? "No."

"But he's never gone away before, either?"

I shook my head.

Finally, he began opening the letter in his hand, saying, "I checked on your mail, Edward, and your dad left a forwarding address."

"A forwarding address? Why would he—"

"He's not coming back, I don't think. At least, not for a while."

Oh my god. Dad moved away, without us. He really had left us. I mean, I knew he had. I wanted him to, I didn't ever want him to come back after… after whatever he did to Alice. But. He just left.

At least with Mom we knew it was coming. At least with her, we said our final goodbyes. Dad may not have been all that attentive, but at least he was there. He was still our dad. Now, he was just some guy who skipped town. Nothing severs all ties like leaving behind a dark house with rotten fruit in it.

"Did you find anything else?" I asked with a wavering voice.

"Sorry, son. I'm still lookin', though."

Jesus. We really, truly, had been abandoned. I squinched my eyes shut, trying to absorb this new information. The worst part was, I already knew this. I don't know why it came as such a shock. I should be glad.

Except – this made it official. Alice was parentless.

My palms were sweaty, and I tried to wipe them off on my jeans. I looked up through squinted eyes to ask, "Does Alice know?"

He shook his head, wiping down his moustache again. "Naw. I thought you might remember more. I want you to tell me if you recognize this address."

He handed me the unfolded piece of paper, and I reluctantly looked it over. It was someplace in Phoenix, but not anywhere I recognized, so I shook my head.

"The house is registered to the Neilsons."

Oh. That name, it sounded familiar. Oh!

"They smelled like cats. Dad played poker with Mr. Neilson."

"Uh-huh."

"And Mom didn't like his wife, much, I don't think."

"How come?"

"She," I tried to remember. "She was always doing weird stuff. She talked to the cats too much, and dressed them up. Mom said she wasn't quite right."

"But Mr. Neilson, he was a friend of your dad's?" Charlie prompted, and I nodded.

He slapped his hands on his knees like we'd just come to some sort of agreement. "Alright, then."

"Wait. What does that mean?" I asked, suddenly panicked and sitting up straight.

"Well, technically it means I've got to notify the state."

Everything in my head slowed with my weary heart beat – notify the state – before it sped up again. No. No no no.

I was on my feet instantly, staring down at the closest thing Alice had to a father figure in disbelief. "Charlie, you can't. That – you just can't. I, I have to get custody. I need time."

"Woah, woah there." He held out his palms in an inoffensive pose. "Slow down, Edward."

"I can't slow down!" The words rushed from me like ice from a glass – in uneven and noisy spurts. "I've got to get a job, or something. I need to get custody, Charlie, I need to be proven fit! I need time, just a little time."

"Edward," he said, standing up. I'd never realized how tall Charlie Swan was before. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about. You're not the only one who cares about Alice. I'm not going to just send her off."

"Then what are you going to do?"

"Well," he said pointedly, "that's what you and I are going to discuss."

Oh. Okay, I could do that.

I took a deep breath, and felt the spread of oxygen into my lungs and throughout my tense muscles like a balm. The thought of having a say – hopefully an equal say – in Ali's future was a great relief. When Charlie motioned to the sofa beside us, we both sat again.

"You got a little worked up there," he said, clearly trying to make light of it. I wasn't quite ready for this all to be light, though.

"I've been worried about this for a while. When it comes to Ali, I get very—"

"Over-protective?"

I blinked. Over-protective? How about vigilant? How about just fulfilling my brotherly duties? I was apparently her only family member that gave a shit, and that meant I had to care enough for everyone.

"Understandably protective?"

He nodded sympathetically. "So, you want to apply for Alice's guardianship?"

"Absolutely."

He was watching me carefully. "And what does Alice think of that?"

Oh. "Well, she hasn't exactly wanted to talk about any of that."

He nodded again, and I think I almost saw a twinge of a smile on his face. "Your little sister sure is a spitfire, you know that?"

Well, obviously.

"Can't get her to sit for two minutes whenever I bring your father up."

"Yeah…" I suppressed the urge to make excuses for her, even though I had the same trouble with her that Charlie did.

In a perfect world, Alice and Charlie and I would sit down and talk about what everyone thought would be best, and what would keep her life as stable and happy as possible. I had long since given up looking for that alternate reality, though, so Charlie and I would have discuss everything alone, at least for now.

He asked me in a very official tone why I thought I would make a good guardian for Alice. I pretty much thought that being her loving brother was enough, but he wanted to go through the particulars: money, housing, education. That's where the bank account my mom opened for us and the idea of a part time job came in.

Of course, if I wanted to keep Dad from ever getting close to Alice I needed physical custody, not just the legal right to make decisions on her behalf. When Charlie inferred that the state would probably never give me custody if we didn't live together, I pointed out that Dad clearly wasn't coming back, so we could move back into our old house.

I really didn't want to, but I would if I had to.

Charlie looked very serious through all of this, but when I mentioned living in Dad's house his brows furrowed even more. He brought up the issue of bills: electricity, water – and what about the mortgage? he said.

Those questions threw me off guard. Dad had a mortgage? I didn't know I had to think about that. Even with a part time job – hell, even if I got a full time job, that and the money Mom put aside for us still wouldn't be enough to pay for a mortgage. Not that I even knew how much that was. It just seemed like… a lot.

The more we talked, the worse I felt. Charlie made it pretty clear that he didn't think I'd be awarded custody. I depended on the Cullens for room and board, and on Charlie to give Alice the same. There was also the issue of my age and, apparently, the state of Washington was also leaning away from awarding family members guardianship lately.

All in all, the conversation was fairly discouraging. Though he tried to be kind about it, Charlie was about as subtle as his nightstick, and it was clear that he didn't have much hope that the state would award me custody.

There were so many facts to know and things to consider that my head was swimming. I didn't know what else I could do. How could I get enough money for a mortgage? How could I convince a judge to let me, at barely-eighteen, be entirely responsible for a fourteen year old girl that would hardly even speak to me?

It was about that time that Esme came out with two glasses of water.

"You boys have been at it for quite a while. Charlie, isn't Bella expecting you home?"

He patted his little bulge of a stomach, probably at the thought of dinner at home, and turned towards her. "Sure is. Edward and I were just talking about his father."

Esme smiled politely, her eyes flickering between the two of us, and I got the impression she'd heard more than she was saying. "Well, it seems to me that you and Ed Senior have had a standing informal agreement for quite some time. Does there have to be a decision made tonight?"

Informal, indeed. More like unspoken. Regardless, Esme spoke with an air of maternal authority that seemed to reach Charlie in a way I couldn't. His cop-demeanor faded, only to be replaced with the quiet and bashful local bachelor Charlie was when he was off-duty.

"Guess not, Esme. Guess not."

"Good. Would you mind taking just one more minute before you head out, Charlie?" She motioned to the stairs behind her, up to the office.

He nodded and hoisted himself up off the couch, while Esme told me there was a warm plate still in the oven for me.

Dinner seemed to be completely over, with the whole table cleared. Jas was sitting there with his homework, though, obviously waiting for me.

I pulled a free chair flush against his and dropped into it, letting my head roll onto his shoulder.

"That didn't sound fun," he said softly, setting down his homework and pulling his fingers through my uncooperative hair.

"You heard that?"

"Most of it, yeah. Everyone else left after you freaked out."

"Apparently, I do that." I was so mentally exhausted, I couldn't really bring myself to care what they had heard, or how I sounded, or even what Esme was saying to Charlie in her office. Actually, I was glad Jas had heard our conversation, because I wouldn't have to repeat it all for him. Only one thing really mattered.

"Charlie doesn't think I'm good enough."

He exerted a little more pressure against my scalp. "That's not what he said."

"May as well have," I sighed, rolling my head further against his shoulder and enjoying the warmth of his skin and his breath in my hair.

"Are you hungry?"

"Not really."

"Want to watch lame TV?"

Leave it to Jas to read my mood exactly. I knew I had a lot to figure out and, now more than ever, I really needed to talk with Alice. But, as Esme'd said, it didn't have to be done tonight.

"You know," I said, moving to smile up at him. "That's exactly what I want to do."

When Jas crawled into my bed later that night, spooning me like I knew he would, I was feeling much better. A few episodes of Family Guy had worked wonders, keeping me happily distracted – even with an open door – for most of the night.

Jas pulled his fingers through my hair some more, arranging my locks into little twists and then tucking them behind my ear before they would unravel themselves.

In the quiet, my mind drifted back to everything Charlie had said. It was hard to really understand what it would take for my dad change his address. It was also hard to know how to proceed without talking to Alice. Her avoidance was really starting to take its toll on me. I thought about it all the time – all the things I wanted to say to her, what could possibly be going through her head, what had really happened to make her so avoidant in the first place. Even when I was doing homework, or writing my damn college essay, my mind kept going back to my baby sister.

"You sleepy?" Jas whispered.

"Naw."

"You're awfully quiet."

"Just thinking about stuff."

After a brief pause, in which I think Jas was trying to find his words, he asked, "Did you want him to come back? You seemed kinda shocked."

Of course I didn't want him to come back. Now that I knew he wouldn't, though, I didn't exactly want him gone either. Finally, I organized my conflicting thoughts into one coherent sentence.

"There's a difference between being a shitty father and abandoning your kids. I mean, how fucked up is that? Plus, now that he's officially gone, Ali can't just stay at Bella's. It's about to get all legal and complicated." I was getting kind of worked up, gesticulating to the open air in front of me while I got all my thoughts out. "And Ali's all bitchy and unhelpful and I just feel so fucking incompetent. Charlie knocked down all my plans for how to take care of her, and I just don't know what to do."

I took a deep breath once that spurt of emotions was out, and felt better for having shared them.

Jas continued to play with my hair while he thought about his answer. "Look, I don't really know what to do about Alice. And I wish your dad had gotten his shit together years ago. Really, I don't know who does that. But I gotta tell you, I'm kind of glad he's gone. I don't miss worrying about you."

Wordlessly, I flipped over in place until I was pressed up again his bare chest. I did my best to look him in the eyes, but it was too dark to see his expression. "You don't have to worry about me, Jas."

"But I did anyway. You and Alice." He wrapped one arm over my back, so he could pull me flush against him. He smelled fantastic – like Old Spice and lavender soap. Tentatively, he slipped one hand between us to pull my right hand up to his mouth. His lips quickly found the scar there, and smoothed it over with a kiss. "Now I know you're safe, here."

Here, with him. The Cullen's house had always been a place of refuge, even back when Dad had first lashed out at Ali. The thought of that night reminded me how grateful I was that my dad wasn't around, and that Jas was.

Once I'd gotten Alice away from my father's glass-flinging fury and safely into Charlie's care, I'd gone back home to clean up the shattered figurine from the carpet.

Dad still seemed to be itching to yell, because as soon as I set to work he was hulking over me, trying to pull me up from the floor and insisting that my sister should clean up her goddamned mess. I thought, maybe, that he would feel better once Mom's prized Pegasus and other figures were cleaned up and out of sight, so I continued pushing small pieces into a chipped dust pan. Dad, though, would have none of it, and tried to pull me up by the collar. Instead, he just toppled my balance, forcing me to catch myself in the shattered glass, with a tip of an angel's wing lodged solidly in the heel of my palm.

The glass was deep, but clear, and when I finally pushed myself up and looked, I could almost see the flesh inside my palm through its refractive surface. It stung, and I could feel my hand start to throb. Blood was starting to well up past the chunk, and I was afraid to pull the glass out. Only averting my eyes and a set of deep breaths kept me upright.

I darted for the bathroom, where I ran tap water over my hand before dislodging the glass. The water ran red, and then pink, but never went clear. I tried patting it dry to put a band aid on, but it was soaked within a minute so instead, I went into my room to grab a clean sock and wrapped it tightly around my hand.

The only idea that came to mind was calling Jasper. I hadn't really known him that long, then, but I knew we had fun in PE together, and that his dad was a doctor.

He greeted me cheerfully but when I asked him if his parents could come get me, he sounded panicked.

"What's the matter? What happened? Are you okay?"

"I…" I didn't know how to say it. "I keep bleeding. I thought maybe your dad could…"

He quickly got Carlisle on the phone, who asked me the whens and wheres of it all and promised that they were on their way. I avoided passing Dad's bedroom by climbing out my own window, and waited on the front lawn for the Cullens.

Esme was out of the car first, pulling me into one of her patented maternal hugs. Then Carlisle asked to see my hand, which apparently needed stitches, and quickly guided me toward the car. In the back seat, Jasper and I leaned into the middle to whisper quietly. Instead of asking me questions I didn't want to answer, he told me about all the nurses at the hospital and which ones were nice and which ones smelled funny.

In the end, Carlisle stitched me up himself and threw out the bloody sock. It sure was a lot of blood for four stitches.

The whole afternoon went in a sort of blur. From one panicked thought to another, I had been in damage-control mode. When we got back to the hospital parking lot, though, the adrenaline had worn off and the pain killer hadn't kicked in yet and I suddenly felt reluctant to get back in the car. I still had glass to clean up at home, but there was no chance my dad had sobered up yet. He'd probably be angry at me for bleeding on the rug, too.

That idea made me flustered and nauseous.

I didn't know how observant Jasper was, then, but I would soon learn. I was standing in the hospital parking lot trying to figure out how to appease my dad and silently hide my anxiety when Jasper stepped in front of me. He was slightly shorter than me then, but still stood out in a crowd, and his hair had already grown into the loose dirty-blond waves that he always pushed behind his ears.

In a gesture that I later realized was the purest form of Jasper's kindness, he put one hand on my shoulder and said the one sentence that had started this beautiful friendship in the first place.

"You know, Edward, you don't have to go home if you don't want to."

So I didn't. The Cullens took me home with them, instead, and fed me dinner. We made s'mores over their gas stove and watched The Simpsons until it was time for bed. Esme made up the guest bed for me, but their house was so large that I felt exposed, and alone. I ended up dragging my comforter into Jas's room and sleeping in a little pile on the floor and he, being the understanding guy he is just whispered, "Sleep tight, Edward."

It's weird to think that in the midst of all the family turmoil and misery that started that day, something wonderful was born. The boy currently tangling his legs with mine – this boy that smelled like summer break, with skin like a secret rendezvous and who kissed like the entire world had been whittled down to our tiny existences… That was the first day I saw this boy as more than just a PE buddy.

Now, Jas seemed to know what I was mulling over, because he didn't move his lips from my palm.

Eventually, whatever moonlight there was became obscured by the clouds, and it was impossible to see anything. I slid my hand across his cheek to the back of his neck, where I could play with the tiny tendrils of blond hair. "I'm glad you were there, that day," I said into the still, quiet room.

"At least something good came of it?" he offered.

Eh. I didn't want to feel like my dad was responsible for bringing us together. I didn't want to have to be grateful to something as heinous as my dad's drunken temper. "I dunno, Jas. I'm sure we would have become friends eventually. We would have met on the track team, if nothing else."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Come on," I said, patting his chest with my free hand to get his agreement. "It's you and me. How could we not be friends?"

"Of course we're friends," he said noncommittally. The disinterested way he said friends, though, tipped me off to his reluctance.

"And once we were friends," I said in a low voice, attempting to be seductive, "this was pretty much inevitable." With both my arms and my legs, I pulled myself tightly against him. Our knees knocked, our noses bumped, and a few other protruding parts brushed tantalizingly across each other too.

When Jas answered, his voice was deep and gravelly, but still showed his excitement. "Yeah? Inevitable?"

As my first answer, I skimmed my lips against his, reveling in the soft warmth he provided. Only when he was good and kissed did I pullback with a contented sigh and say, "This feels too good to think we might have missed it." I obviously wasn't here just because my father was an asshole. I was here because… "We feel right together, Jas. You and me. Once we were friends, how could we not be more?"

"How could we not?" he agreed, in a much brighter tone. He trailed his nose along my ear and my exposed throat, exciting sensitive nerve-endings in the process. "I'm so glad you think that, Edward," he breathed into my ear. "You have no idea."

I didn't believe in fate, or anything like that, but I did think that once Jas and I knew each other, everything else was just a matter of time. Even if it had taken us for-fricken-ever. We really had just fallen into the most alluring, exciting, and gratifying way we could be together.

The thing about that, though, is that there's only two ways to fall: from grace, or in love. Both ideas scared me completely, but only one sent tingles through my chest, constricting and inflating my heart in a way that was foreign, but wondrous.

Jas continued nuzzling and humming against my bare skin, and I was happy to have made him so happy. If possible, we pressed even closer to each other, both physically and emotionally. For the rest of the night, our sweet-nothings were exchanged with more than just words.

In the morning I woke alone, like I was supposed to, and laid under the warm covers of the guest bed for several minutes. My thoughts drifted to all the facets of my life that had led to the intricacies of my relationship with Jasper. Why him?

Of course, I knew all the reasons I was completely enamored by him. He was kind and sensitive, accepting and smart and silly. He let me stew when I wanted to, and rant when I needed it. He made me feel normal and lucky all at the same time. I couldn't pinpoint why I liked him as a man, though. There was no denying that the pressure of his firm chest against mine had me panting, and that the thought of running my palms over the curve of his bicep or the swell of his ass sent a rush of warmth down my stomach and through my groin. But, wasn't I supposed to like women? I mean, they're supposed to be soft, and comforting, apparently.

But who wanted soft when you could have hard? And sexy?

I didn't think I did, I never had before, but there didn't seem to be anything in my past that would steer me towards men, as opposed to women. That thought just confirmed what I'd said the night before; I always would have liked Jas, even without my prick of a father.

Hell, maybe we would have even figured this all out a lot sooner. Maybe with my mom to talk to, to encourage and support me regardless of my preference, like I knew she would have, maybe we could have been dating for a while already. Maybe we could have actually gone on real dates, or had our first kiss without me crying on my bedroom floor.

Thinking of how things might have been sent a shard of painful longing through me. If only…

I wanted to tell my mom about Jasper. I hadn't really talked to her since I was first confused over my new feelings for Jasper, and her picture was still locked away in my dad's house. Part of me wanted to go get it, but the other part didn't want to sever her memory from the few warm memories I had of her in that house.

My familial isolation just steeled my conviction to talk to Ali about, well, pretty much everything. Dad, the house, custody rights, and Jasper. I wanted to fill her in, I wanted to hear her say that it was all okay, and I wanted to be the inseparable brother/sister pair we used to be.

None of that could happen if we didn't find some way to communicate.

Eventually, after a particularly cat-like stretch, I pulled on my clothes and tiptoed to Jasper's room, already wanting to see him again. I hadn't brushed my teeth yet, so I was just planning on giving him a heartfelt kiss on the cheek, but he bypassed any personal hygiene concerns by sticking his already minty-fresh tongue in my mouth and humming happily. When we heard Esme coming down the hall, I rearranged my jeans and walked back to my room.

Esme raised a disapproving eyebrow in the hallway, and I did my best to look innocent.

After all, we'd followed the rules and left the door open.

About halfway through the ride to school, Ali said the first thing in weeks that I was actually glad to hear from her. Apparently, Mrs. Clearwater wouldn't be able to take her home, and she'd need to find another ride.

I saw my chance, and took it. "I'll just take you home with Bella, like we used to do."

It seemed straightforward enough to me, but she still hedged.

"Hmm. I guess. Seth said maybe I should find a ride with one on the other techies."

"Why?" I asked, irate. "I used to take you home all the time." And Seth knew that. Why wouldn't he want me to drive her? Honestly, what the fuck was his problem?

"Oh, just so I didn't have to leave early."

"We'll wait," I promised, not believing that excuse for one minute. This was an opportunity, and there was no way I was going to miss it.

Tonight, Ali and I were finally going to talk.

Reviews convince Alice to sit down and listen.

Also, I always told myself I wouldn't do this, but a little shameless self promotion: my one-shot, Power, has been selected as a Judge's Pick for the final round of the Slash Backslash contest. (Which is SO exciting, I can't even express it properly.) My fabulously talented beta, Elvelethril, has a great story in the finals too. If you're looking for the slashfic mecca, head on over to the contest, and vote for your favorites.

Plus, Elvelethril is posting her new fic, Punks, today and you should all check it out.