Your Biggest Fan - 20/?

[bythedamned]

Title: Your Biggest Fan
Chapter: 20/?
Fandom: Twilight
By: bythedamned  
Rating: NC-17 overall
Chapter Wordcount: 10,231
Genre: AU, Slash
Pairing: Edward/Jasper
Summary: Throughout high school, the shy and over-burdened Edward Masen threw himself into work and raising his baby sister. He's always felt lucky just to be friends with track star Jasper Cullen. Now, he doesn't know if just friends is enough. AH AU Slash.
Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns, I just play

A/N: Thanks to my awesome beta, elveys_stuff

The flight was bumpy, which made me both nervous and more than a little nauseous. Some deep breathing and a ginger ale took care of my stomach, but my nerves were more persistent. Jas had pulled a blanket haphazardly across his knees so that he could fold my hand into his discreetly, but I still stared out the window trying to gauge if we were bumping along just slightly closer to the ground than before.

"Don't worry," he whispered, "I've done this loads of times. It's always fine."

"Well, I haven't," I answered tensely, not pulling my eyes from the window. It's not like I'd never flown, but that was when I was… six? Seven? Not all families were as well traveled as the Cullens.

"Hey, now." His tone was somehow both chiding and light at the same time. "Just take a deep breath."

Even though I was focusing too hard on the cut-and-pasted farms slipping past to bother with that, I could still feel his eyes on me. He leaned closer, barely nudging his nose into my messy hair, and his breath was hot and wet on the back of my neck.

"That's an order, Private. Breathe."

I smiled despite myself and pulled as much air in through my nose as I could manage before streaming it back out through my mouth. Then I turned to him. I think he liked giving orders, because his grin was way too smug. I considered kissing it off him, or at least insinuating that I would if we weren't surrounded by three-hundred-plus strangers and his sister, but half my mind was still preoccupied with tiny houses and hard ground dangerously far below us.

So I asked Jas for something to distract me. "What's the plan for your grandparents'?"

He stared beyond me, tracking a few passing clouds, before he answered. "Usually, actually, Rose and I team up."

I wasn't quite sure what to make of that, which plainly showed on my face.

"Well. Sometimes Mom likes to go back to all her old childhood places. And those are pretty boring, so we usually spend the first night coming up with a bunch of things we have to do instead."

"Like what?"

"Oh, you know. Snow angels, hot cocoa. A scrabble tournament, if we have to stay inside."

"But, that's all stuff you can do at home. Except, I mean, you don't."

He shrugged, which always made me skeptical, before he took a deep breath. "That's just what we always do. We still make cookies with Nan too, just 'cause we always have." He gestured vaguely, but his eyes drifted to the back of the seat in front of him. "It's just different when we're there. Rose and I usually have fun."

For the first time, I felt a little iffy about crashing the Cullen's Christmas. I bit the inside of my lip, briefly debating whether to say anything at all, but I was just too wound up. "It's not gonna be weird, having me there, right?"

It was moments like those that I fell in love with Jas a little bit more. Because instead of giving me some vague answer, or telling me not to worry so much, he shifted his whole body in his seat and grinned like a kid on his birthday.

"Are you kidding? We can have a proper snowball fight, and go sledding, and I'll get to show you New York." I could tell he'd thought about it alot, and even though his voice might have even been too loud for polite airplane conversation, it was the kind of enthusiasm that washed away my doubts like a Forks rainstorm. And I wholeheartedly believed him when he promised, "Edward, it's gonna be great."

Then he launched into the full Christmas schedule, and I gladly focused on that instead of the words 'terminal velocity'. The plan seemed to involve a lot of cooking, sometimes just for the sake of cooking itself and often for sweets Esme's mom could take to their church, but we'd have at least two days to make the hour-long drive into the city. He warned me then, as he'd warned me before, that the house would be pretty cramped with all seven of us, and that his Nan didn't have the memory she used to.

It was a lot to take in - schedules and activities, traditions and expectations - but that and his excitement took my mind off other things. It replaced what-ifs with certainties and chaos with order, and it helped.

We rented a car at JFK so his Grandpop wouldn't have to drive, and found ourselves in a town arguably even smaller than Forks. I was a little disappointed to have been in the wondrous New York City only to drive away from it, but I knew we'd be back there soon enough. Plus, as soon as Esme's mom flung open the paint-chipped front door and tried to hug the whole family at once I was distracted by the affection and the overwhelming smell of cloves.

Once all the Cullens had hugged Esme's dad as well, both sets of milky eyes turned to me. Jasper's Nan pulled her sweater a little tighter around herself and asked, "Who are you?"

I glanced to Jasper uncertainly before giving them a spectacularly awkward wave. "I'm Edward?"

"Now, Marge. That's Jasper's friend," his grandfather said.

"Mom," Esme spoke up, slower and louder than I would have thought necessary. "We told you he was coming. He was in the pictures, remember?"

She blinked. "He was?"

"Yes. You said you put them on the fridge."

"Oh," his grandma smiled and nodded. "He can come inside too, then."

Esme, Carlisle and Jasper all laughed, and we were told to leave our jackets and shoes in the entryway. Nan insisted that we have dinner immediately, which both I and my stomach appreciated. The kitchen was warm, the food was good, and after only a few minutes of searching I found my own face in the jumble of pictures covering the fridge.

Some were of people I didn't recognize, but most were various combination of the Cullen family, together and smiling. Nearly every school photo of Rosalie and Jasper through the years were proudly displayed too, and I got a kick out of seeing them both in braces. And sure enough, there was one of Jas and me, from the race track just this past spring, on a rare sunny day. In the photo we were sweaty, flushed, and pointing at a stopwatch that was impossible to read but clearly made us both ridiculously happy. That was the day Jas had beaten the standing two-mile record in Washington State, and was definitely a photo worthy of a refrigerator collage.

There was lots of chatter and story-swapping over the table, and Jasper's grandparents even stayed up past their bedtimes, but eventually they reminded Esme where all the spare bedding was and left us to figure out sleeping arrangements. Esme and Carlisle were in the guest room, of course, and the two twin beds for Jas and Rosalie took up nearly every square inch of Esme's old room, so that just left…

"-the couch, alright Edward?" Esme smiled as she held up a very faded set of ladybug sheets. "I think you'll fit just fine."

Okay, so it wasn't the romantic holiday getaway I might have envisioned, but it was still Christmas with Jasper. And a family.

Esme began stuffing pillows into mismatched cases, but kept her eyes on me. "Edward, Nan and Grandpop have a habit of getting up for water in the night."

"Alright."

"That means they'd come right through the living room."

I tossed a sheet out across the sofa and let it flutter down. "It's really fine, I'll probably sleep through it."

She dropped the pillow onto the cushions and watched me keenly. "I'm saying, you won't really have much privacy. And that's something you and Jasper should be aware of."

It took me a moment to realize what she meant, but as soon as I did - gah! That was so the last thing I expected her to say, and I immediately felt my face flushing. I mean, thanks for the warning and all but… did we really have to talk about it? She was poised like she was waiting for an answer, and so I awkwardly said the first thing that came to mind.

"Thanks."

She raised one scrutinizing eyebrow.

Shit. "I mean, we wouldn't - we're not -."

Esme's eyes flickered to the doorway and she interrupted me with a bright, "Hi, Sweetie."

I turned, hoping to see Jasper and rope him in to share my mortification, but instead found Rosalie. Glaring, of course, because that's what she did best, but not at me this time.

"Why do you always do that?"

Esme raised the other eyebrow too, blinking innocently at her daughter, and no matter what she had or hadn't done, I had a feeling that wouldn't go over too well.

"Uggh," Rosalie groaned, and started stomping towards the kitchen. "Whatever. It's not like I care about your secrets anyway."

Huh. I hadn't noticed Esme being secretive. Then again, it had been pointed out that I was maybe not the most perceptive guy around, except Jasper hadn't mentioned anything either.

Luckily for me, Rosalie's attitude took precedence over my sleeping arrangements and Esme followed her into the kitchen. Not before giving me a pointed look over her shoulder, though.

And by pointed, I really mean pointed. Boring through my brain and annotating my most private thoughts, pointed.

The rest of the Cullens went about their business and said goodnight while I got myself settled in. If there had been a ton of snow I was supposed to snap a picture and send it to Alice, but there wasn't. I texted her anyway, promising to send pictures of the grand and mysterious New York City, but that only took a few seconds. Eventually Jasper flopped down next to me on the couch-turned-bed, and I told him what his mom had said.

His nose wrinkled up. "That's so gross."

I nodded. "I know. I wouldn't want to crawl into bed with me either."

"Hey," he laughed, elbowing me but also leaning his head against my neck for just a fraction of a moment. Again, I felt that little ping of accomplishment for making him happy, and smiled down at him. "Don't worry," he added quietly, leaning in close, "we'll find plenty of time for that stuff, somehow."

His shoulder pressed into mine as he slipped up closer to kiss me, just once, before he pulled back with a lazy grin. It quickly turned suggestive though, almost lascivious, until he finally wiggled his eyebrows like a bad Groucho Marx and we both laughed.

We talked for a while, keeping a friendly, grandparent-safe distance away, until we were once again interrupted by Rosalie. She leaned in the doorway, wearing pink-starred pajamas with long sleeves that she tugged on, looking uncharacteristically hesitant.

Eventually, she settled her gaze on Jasper and said, "Are you going to bed soon?"

"Not yet."

"Oh. Well." She pushed her hair behind an ear and said more firmly, "I'm turning off the light."

They watched each other, communicating on some Cullen wavelength that I couldn't hear or understand, until Jasper finally answered.

"I'll be in soon."

"Whatever." She huffed, straightening herself up and looking far more like the Rosalie I remembered. Her fingers stopped tugging at her sleeves and rested haughtily on her hips instead. "I just wanted to know if we're doing penguins tomorrow."

"Oh," he answered cautiously. "I don't know." Then he looked to me. "Edward, there's this zoo with a whole bunch of penguins-"

"No!" Rosalie said, with more than a hint of a whine, and I watched her fold her arms across her chest and resurrect her briefly-forgotten glare. "Nevermind. I don't want to anymore."

It was mere seconds before we heard her shut herself in her room, and Jas flung himself back on the couch cushions with a heavy sigh.

"I should go talk to her."

Eh. Not the plan of action I would choose. "About penguins?"

He rolled his head so that he could look up at me. "They're a tradition."

A tradition she obviously didn't want me involved in. I slumped in my seat next to him and, despite how early it was in our own time zone, I yawned. Then he yawned too, because those bastards are contagious, and he stretched both arms high above his head.

I almost snickered when his arm came down around my shoulders, mostly because I felt like the date at a movie with the boyfriend who was trying to cop a feel. I knew I couldn't laugh, though, because the truth was I fell for his charms every time.

So I snuggled into his side and snuck a quick kiss to the smooth underside of his chin. He shivered a little, but let out a soft hum of contentment.

I let my eyes fall closed and whispered, "I love you."

He hummed louder, twisting his head to press a wet, lingering kiss to my forehead. "I love you too, Edward."

It was over too quickly, because there was a sister to talk to and a pretense to keep up, but almost as soon as I crawled into bed I fell asleep thinking about the special kinds of kisses that were reserved for foreheads.

And as it turned out, his Nan and Grandpop's bladders were smaller than a wet sock, and I heard their multiple bathroom-kitchen-bedroom trips from my makeshift bed on the sofa.

The morning was chaotic with Carlisle checking maps and schedules and weather announcements, and Esme assuring her parents that they'd be careful in the city. It seemed like that parental hovering never really went away.

The trip was pretty awkward with all three of us kids in the back seat, especially since Jasper took the middle in an effort to be diplomatic but instead ended up with his knees in everyone's space. Rosalie was in a pretty foul mood over not seeing the penguins, but Jas appeased her by promising to see them on the second trip into the city, and by talking about them. A lot.

I really didn't see the appeal. Waddle-waddle-swim, right?

But Esme distracted her with the idea of shopping and Carlisle had a friend at Sloan-Kettering to see, so Jas and I were free to plan our own day.

After heading in the opposite direction from the rest of the Cullens, Jas led me directly into the subway, which he said was the gateway to everything and anything. Of course, we couldn't decide which anything to go see, but I mostly just wanted to get a feel for the city. We tossed around a couple ideas, and Jas mentioned all the places he'd liked in the past, but eventually we decided to wander around and soak up lower Manhattan. That was, of course, after vetoing everything with the word museum in it, because I couldn't stand the thought of spending our day in marble buildings where we weren't allowed to talk. Maybe that made me uncultured, but that was a-okay with me.

Now, I knew New York City was big, I really did, and I was prepared to get there and be wowed by the vastness of it all. What I didn't know was that vast didn't even cover it. Avenues were as wide as Forks' highways, and walking two blocks over took twenty minutes. I didn't even know how long that was in New York Minutes. We were surrounded by people and skyscrapers and trafficky intersections, all more impressive and daunting than the last, and it dawned on me how very long it had been since I'd lived in a city.

At first I just walked along with my head straight back, taking in the extreme heights and angles of everything above us, until I bumped into one too many people and changed my focus to all the faces passing us by. There were just so many people, rushing and chatting and hailing cabs, and I think I saw more kinds of people in one city block than I had in all four years in Forks.

We were dwarfed by the size and speed and activity of it all, and I huddled close to Jasper at a stoplight to whisper , "We could get lost in all this."

He turned his head slowly and surprised me with a contented smile. Then he slowly trailed his fingertips down my arm until he gripped my hand and gave it a quick squeeze. "I know."

So we allowed ourselves a fairly aimless course, stopping into stores when the wind picked up and our noses got a little too cold. We oohed and aahed as we shopped for Christmas presents in in SoHo and blatantly gawked our way through Chinatown until I thought my feet would drop off. After that, Jas said we could rest on the subway and led us slightly uptown to a burger place he remembered and loved.

Apparently he and Rosalie stopped by there at least once a trip, but when I questioned whether we might accidentally run into her there, he shook his head.

"Mom's dragging her to a bunch of pottery stores uptown. It's like her guilty pleasure or something." Then he rolled his eyes. "Sometimes, Mom has the worst idea of fun."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." He patted his coat pocket. "She just texted me to bitch."

"Oh. That's… random."

He looked away, focusing on the sidewalk in front of us. "I told you. When we're here, it's different. Mom and Dad get kind of overwhelming after a while so it's, like, we're united by a common goal. Of fun, and not salting the driveway and stuff. Like kids versus parents."

"So, are you supposed to be saving her from shopping with your Mom, then?"

He shrugged, and while I knew that was the ultimate non-answer, I didn't want to dwell on it enough to press the topic. Within a few moments we'd pushed ourselves through the glass door of a small but toasty diner, and pulled off our gloves and scarves.

Maybe it was just because we were exhausted and starved, but the burgers were fantastic. The desserts looked even better though, and I think we spent longer staring into the pastry case than we did eating. Jas went for the classic cheesecake, but I ended up with a layered peanut butter-chocolate cake, complete with a peanut butter cup on top. It was Christmas, I figured, and therefore perfectly justifiable to indulge in ridiculous sweets.

I started with a tiny bite, just enough to coat my tongue, and fell in love with the diner, the cake, and the unknown man who had made it all at once. It was rich and decadent, flaky and salty swirled into sweet creamy chocolate, the best of both worlds. I closed my eyes to focus all my attention on the complex flavors, because it was just… mmmm.

"If I'd known you were going to molest the cake, we could have gotten it to go."

I popped one eye open to see him smirking crookedly at me. He added, "Plus, I'd kinda hoped those noises were just for me."

"What noises?"

He snorted. "That must be one fantastic piece of cake."

That sounded like a challenge, or maybe just a request. Either way, I raised one eyebrow. "Want some?" Of course he did, and for Jas I would share the best part, so I snapped off half the gourmet peanut butter cup with my fingers and put it on his plate.

But he didn't move. I waited for him to say something, or reach for it and feed himself, but instead he just looked meaningfully between his plate and my hand. Then, with a devilish smugness that even showed in his eyes, he let his mouth drop open.

"Jas…" I warned, but he didn't care. He made his obvious glances again, even accentuating them with his eyebrows, and held out his tongue just enough for me to balance my peanut butter on.

Reluctantly I picked it up, intent on dropping it into his mouth as quickly as possible, but he didn't even lean forward. He made me come to him, all the way to him, and even once I got there he closed his lips so narrowly that I actively had to push the bit of chocolate past his lips with my fingers. I watched them go, somewhat transfixed as they disappeared into his hot, chocolatey mouth, but as soon as I felt him grab the piece with his teeth I pulled my hand back sharply.

That was dumb; dumb of me to give in in such a crowded place and dumb of me to be so distracted by it. I wished he wouldn't put me in those kinds of situations.

Jas chewed happily, but my love of cake was dissipating and I eyed him from across the table. "That was entirely unnecessary."

"It was fun."

"It was reckless," I insisted.

"Edward," he answered, dropping his voice to a softer caliber and sliding one hand across the table towards mine. "It was fine. We're allowed to share cake in public."

I huffed, because that was not at all what we were doing, and he curled his fingers away from me.

"Look around, Edward," he gestured broadly with his other hand. "No one's even watching. No one cares."

I looked up hesitantly, afraid to meet angry or condemning eyes, but he was right. I studied the room around us, finding students and businessmen and even families with small children, and not a single one was looking at us. No one-

Wait. Oh god. There was one table, and they were blatantly staring. I felt myself grow hot with embarrassment, and I tried to sink below the collar of my jacket. "They care."

Jas twisted in his seat to see the offending table, but that only encouraged them more. There had to be at least five of them - all girls about our age, maybe older, looking like locals in their trim peacoats and berets.

And every single one of them was grinning. One, a blonde in a purple scarf, was hiding her mouth behind her hand and giggling.

I sort of wanted to die.

Jas, though, took it in stride and raised one hand to give a little wave. They waved back, nearly in unison, and I sank lower.

At that they all laughed, even Jas, and he turned back towards me. His cheeks had a slight flush to them too, but his eyes were crinkled and happy.

"I know you aren't that good with girls, Edward, but I don't really think that's the kind of attention you're worried about."

"They're still looking," I confirmed lowly with the briefest glance, but Jas didn't care. He unfurled his fingers, offering his palm to me and hoping I'd accept it.

Carefully, I raised by my hand up to the table beside his, and looked around the small room once again just for good measure before tracing one finger along his lifeline.

He hummed, and his smile relaxed into lazy contentment. We both watched as I traveled every crease in his palm and eventually started making up my own designs. After several of those passes he twisted his hand up to grab mine and pulled it across the table. Before I could say anything he had the back of my hand raised and pressed to his lips, where he left a slow, wet kiss.

Then he said, "Finish your cake and let's get out of here," and picked up his own fork.

I grinned. "It's good, right?"

"Mine's good, but that," he jabbed the air in my direction with his silverware, "that is amazing. It's like sex on a plate."

"Not that we'd know," I said without meeting his eyes, so softly that only Jas could hear. "Yet." And while he gawked a little I pushed my plate into the center of the table so he could have some more.

Once we'd licked every crumb off our plates and Jasper dropped some bills on the table, he stood up with his hand outstretched. I took it, because he wanted me to, and because I could keep my back to our little audience.

"I've got an idea," he said, swinging our hands between us. "You need to see the Empire State Building."

"How come?"

He looked at me like that was totally obvious. "It's huge."

"What, like phallic or something?"

He laughed, loud and belly shaking. "Well, aren't they all? But no, it just has a great view from the top." Then he tilted his head to breathe into my ear. "Though, if you've got something phallic on your mind, Private."

He finished his sentence with a quick peck to my cheek, and I could've sworn I heard a squeal behind us.

"You're one to talk, Maj."

His look told me that the chocolate and peanut butter had gone to my brain. "Mage? Am I magic now?"

Hmm. Well, it made sense in my head. "No, like Sergeant, Sarge. Major, Maj. Right?"

"Huh," he said, contemplating it as he turned us left out of the diner. "I'll take it."

A quick metro ride got us to the Empire State Building, and an equally-long elevator ride got us to the top. It wasn't automatically clear exactly how high a hundred and two stories was, but a hazy horizon in the far, far distance bumped the word 'vast' another notch higher in my mind. Jas and I nudged our way to the edge, and pressed ourselves against the wide criss-crosses of the safety fence.

First I looked down, which in and of itself was enough to inspire vertigo, but after I reminded myself that my feet were firmly planted I simply stared in wonder. Jas, too, was slack-jawed.

"Have you been up here before?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "but it never gets old."

The wind whipped around us, and even with my gloves on I needed to shove my hands in my pockets. I huddled into my coat, trying to scrunch my neck so my scarf would reach up to my ears, and looked beyond the crystalline clouds forming from my breath.

"Are you cold?"

I shook my hair out of my eyes and nodded. "It's okay, though. That which does not kill me…"

"Oh shut up," he ordered playfully, and sidled up closer. One arm came up around my shoulders, trying to rub some warmth into me, and I was chilled enough to be grateful.

Together, Jas and I stared out into the famous city.

"It just goes on forever," I finally said, quiet with awe. It just… building after building after building. So many, stretching on for so far. I swear, even on such a clear day, my vision reached its limits before the city did. And each tiny car and miniature window held a life, a person that I knew nothing about and would never meet, all going about their business completely unaware of the tourist boys watching them from top of the Empire State Building. Even the Cullens were out there, completely removed and invisible. "I feel like if you took away all the buildings, we'd just be staring at thousands and thousands of people, all jumbled together," I told him.

He nodded with his nose buried in my hair. "Millions." His voice was subdued, and I knew the city had the same effect on him.

"It's sort of humbling," I said. He craned his head back to look at me, so I added, "in a good way." I inspected the skyline in search of the right words. "It seems like we're really small, but that's because we always were, even if we didn't know it. All these tiny lives bumping into each other, unaware of the million others around them."

Jas's arm slid along my side and I turned to see his wide, flame-blue eyes on me, intense and adoring. "I knew you'd get it."

I nodded, unsure of what to really say, and he swept his other arm out across the view.

"You can do anything, here. Anonymity is this city's greatest gift."

Then, with a sudden tug at my waist, he pressed his face close enough to mine that I could feel the warmth of his breath.

"There's people," I warned him, and not ones we were about to walk away from, but he didn't care.

With one gloved hand sliding under my jaw, Jas kissed me. Right there, on top of the Empire State Building, for all of Manhattan to see. It wasn't a polite kiss, either. It was a tongue in my mouth, hands in my hair, all-out kind of kiss, and it had already been too long since we'd had a moment to do that.

As soon as he pulled back, I flushed all over, noticing every pair of eyes behind him that were trained on us. Jas noticed too, and immediately brought the back of his hand up to my forehead.

"Oh no," he said, with mock worry, "did you survive?" His hands flashed all over me, patting my shoulders, ribs, and even face. "Is everything alright? All that public kissing…"

I tried to wrench out of the way when he started going for my butt, but I jumped when he managed to goose me and he laughed.

"Jas!" I said, shocked, but even I was having a hard time not laughing at his ridiculousness. I couldn't believe he would- right there, in front of- the nerve!

But he had. Instead of dwelling on the tourists watching us, he had expertly distracted into having fun. As soon as I realized that I punched him half-heartedly in the shoulder. "You're terrible."

"Yes," he agreed, catching my hand and pulling me toward him. He still had that shit-eating grin though, and it completely undermined his sincerity when he added, "Completely awful. I'm oh so sorry." But then his expression softened. "We don't have to hide everywhere, Edward."

"You're still evil," I muttered, but I let him hold me against his chest, hiding and not hiding at the same time.

Eventually we nabbed a bench and rested our feet while we waited for the sun to set. Then, once we watched the lights of the city swirl and shine around us in a rhythm older than electricity itself, we took the elevator down to do a little more sight-seeing with the Cullens, and I sent a whole string of picture messages to Alice.

By the end of the night everyone was exhausted, and Esme spent the first ten minutes of the ride thanking Carlisle for driving. Carlisle always drove anyway, but growing up in the boonies had obviously taught Esme to lament chaotic city driving and she said she was lucky to have married such a brave driver.

Jas and Rosalie both snorted.

The grandparents were already asleep when we got back, and all of us got straight into our pajamas. Jas snuck into the living room for a quick kiss goodnight, but neither of us could keep our eyes open enough for anything more.

The next day was equally exhausting, even though we didn't leave the house, and I started to realize why Jas and Rosalie felt the need to team up. Carlisle tried to recruit us into reorganizing the garage, and Esme fell into what was apparently an old habit of knitting with her mother, and insisted that all three of us try too. Even the games we tried to play - scrabble and balderdash - lost some of their edge when it got around to Jas's grandparents' turn. Not that they weren't perfectly valid activities, they just didn't scream 'Christmas' to me, and I was relieved when Jasper backed out of knitting by announcing that we had to try sledding while the one-inch of snowfall we'd gotten was still fresh.

I wasn't about to argue, and even Rosalie nodded like she'd made the plan herself. Unless, of course, that was just another tradition I wasn't aware of and she had already known it was coming.

They had a hill all picked out through the trees behind the house, and what started out as such simple sledding turned into an obstacle course race between the two of them.

Yup, another tradition.

I had snow in my boots long before either of them, and eventually told Jas I was going to go take pictures for Alice. He looked up from a small mound of snow he was shaping into a jump, and then pushed himself upright.

To Rosalie, he said, "I'm gonna go get some better gloves," and then jogged over to join me. Once we got into the garage he pulled some thick leather gloves from a drawer and said, "I'm just gonna finish the course with her, alright?" His voice wavered just slightly, like he kept changing his mind about whether it was a question or a statement. I wasn't gonna argue, though, so I changed my socks while he went back outside to make nice. I mean, make a snow-jump.

And that was pretty much the cadence of the days leading up to Christmas. Lots of family time, some of which Jas and Rosalie would expertly sidestep. Jas and I stuck together a fair bit, mostly because I had no idea what to say to an eighty-something woman who didn't always remember she'd invited me into her house, but sometimes Rosalie would come in with a subdued or tortured look, and I could practically see him weighing the options. It was like there was a scale in his head, with a tiny me on one side, arms open, and a tiny Rosalie on the other, hands on her hips.

I knew that scale must have existed before, since we shared a house and all, but Christmas-Rose seemed to carry more weight because sometimes he chose her. When I used my alone time to think about it, I realized that these New York trips were pretty much that last remaining facet of Jas's life that I hadn't seen before, and that obviously he had to do something when he wasn't with me. I wondered, then, if that included even when we were in Forks. If, when I had been at my dad's house, Jas had defaulted to her. It seemed unlikely, because I could see that she was a monstrous bitch. But then again, she hated me, so maybe her weekly ration of death glares were all wasted in my direction.

Still, I didn't get it. It had been so easy to disregard Rosalie in the past. I just looked the other way and went on with my life, and Jas always had to. At least, from what I saw…

It was impossible to hide away with my own thoughts for too long, though, and by the afternoon of Christmas Dinner (which was really Christmas Eve dinner), everyone was given a task. Rosalie and Esme had to drop off some cookies at the town hall before picking up a few forgotten ingredients for dinner, and Carlisle and Esme's dad were tasked with finding some fresh Christmas lights because ours had shorted out and apparently that just wouldn't do.

That just left me and Jas, and we promptly volunteered to stay behind and tidy up. Together. Alone.

Carlisle reminded us on his way out that there was a lot to do and we shouldn't dawdle, but I figured any alone time with Jas was better than nothing. When he started to polish the special-occasion silverware, though, I placed the cups I was holding back into the dishwasher and raised an eyebrow.

"Do you do that every year?"

He rolled his eyes. "Someone does. We rarely use them so they get tarnished every time we put them away."

Well. Christmas was a fancy affair for the Platt/Cullen household.

His fingers kept working a blue rag over the metal, but his smile grew devious. "Plus, I think they're trying to keep us extra-busy."

I threw my hands up. "Right? I have never baked so many cookies in my life."

He laughed, shaking the hair from his eyes, and carefully laid one shiny knife in line with the dull ones. Then, with a soft 'hmm', he dropped the rag too and studied me from his spot at the kitchen table.

He didn't say anything at first, but I heard the soft scrape of a chair and watched him calmly walk over to me. I settled against the ridge of the counter and opened my arms so he could lean himself against me. His arms went around my shoulders to hug me, to just hold me like we hadn't really been able to do since the city, and I let myself take one deep, slow breath.

He muttered into my ear, "Cleaning is stupid," and I laughed against his collarbone.

"Jasper Cullen, the poet."

I made sure he saw me smirking, and he opened his mouth for what may or may not have been a clever retort, but instead shot me a quirky grin.

Then he was kissing me, which was even better than talking or hugging, and I curled my fingers into his shirt so that he wouldn't stop. I pulled back once, double checking, "You'll hear the door, right?" and he mumbled something about chimes and promised he would.

So we made out for a while - nothing more, because time was short - but it had been too long since Jas and I had just done that for the fun of it. His hands went into my hair, making a mess of what I had tried to comb into place, but I was happy just focusing on the plump feel of his lips moistening against mine. I decided I hadn't given them enough appreciation lately, and lavished them accordingly.

Eventually my hands fell to the small of his back while I left a few, last pecks on his swollen mouth.

"Bet you've never done that in your grandparent's house before."

His laugh ended on a sigh. "Rose would be jealous. She's been begging to bring Emmett with us since they got together."

I didn't find it quite so funny, but I smiled for him. "She might voice a few other opinions first."

"Yeah," he said, dropping his eyes to the sink beside me, and I felt his body loosen and deflate.

"Hey," I said, jostling him a bit to bring him back to the moment. "I didn't mean-"

"No, I know," he said, but he still unclasped his hands from behind me and leaned against his own section of the counter. "I just wish it were easier. I wish she could know, and be okay with it."

"But-" I started, and then bit it back. I tried to choose my words very carefully. "It kind of seems sudden. You didn't… didn't seem to care what she thought, before."

He nodded somewhat sadly, and looked down to watch his hands fiddle with a belt loop. "I know. You're right."

"But, now…" I hedged.

With a silent sigh and a swipe of his hair out of his eyes, he looked up and said, "Alice."

I was instantly wary, feeling almost protective of her name being dragged into a conversation about Rosalie. "What about her?"

He was clearly sorry even as he said it. "I watched your sister… become like mine." Of course, I straightened up immediately, ready to defend Alice from anything he might say, but he added, "Not for that long. But something went wrong, and suddenly she was always upset and yelling for no reason, even though she used to be fine. And it seemed a lot like Rose."

I completely failed to think of a time when Rosalie wasn't a bitch, but decided to keep that to myself. Instead I said, "But Alice is alright again." I mean, pretty much.

Once again, he nodded, and then shuffled along the counter to close the gap between us. Very quietly he said, "Because you never gave up. When Rosalie started getting really mean I just…" He held up a hand like he was trying to show me something, but then sliced it sharply through the air. "I just brushed it off."

"But Jas, it's not your job to-"

"I know. And I know it's totally different for you and Alice. But I realized that maybe it's not just her. I know we can get along, and have fun even. Being here just reminds me that sometimes she can be a real sister. And if we can do it sometimes, maybe if I put in some effort…"

From where I was standing, she didn't deserve his effort, but he trailed off into a fog of his own thoughts and I didn't want him to have to worry about that now.

"Come on," I said, squeezing his hand. "Let's not spend our time alone worrying."

It took him a moment of staring at the floor while I watched him, unmoving, but then his back straightened and I felt his hand sliding across my jeans and into my back pocket. Then, without warning, he squeezed.

I gave him a 'where exactly do you think you're going with this' look from the corner of my eye, and was gratified to see the corner of his lip twitch up.

"What?" he asked innocently, turning a fully placated smile to me. "I'm in my happy place."

I knew he was faking, brushing off his concerns maybe just because I'd asked him to, but I kept him distracted with light, pointless chatter until Esme came home and reminded us that there was work to be done.

Dinner turned out to be a family-wide effort. Plus me. Esme and her mom spent most of their effort preparing some dessert that seemed to use more pots and pans than the rest of dinner put together, while Rosalie tended to the lamb and mashed potatoes and Jas and I stuck to our original tasks. The carving of the lamb was left to Carlisle, and Esme's dad went to retrieve the fresh bread someone had baked. In the middle of it all, watching everyone shuffle pans and bump into each other and laugh about flour in their hair, I resolved to call Alice instead of just texting her.

Dinner came first though, and then it was off to church. And not just any church, Midnight Mass. At eight PM. Because as Nan said, "It was God who made me so tired, so He'll understand why I can't stay up so late."

Mass was long and mostly somber, and I wasn't allowed to have a Jesus cracker, so I found myself zoning out with the question of whether or not Jas and I were the only ones in the room who liked kissing boys. I decided we probably were, because most of the small, honest crowd around us was nodding along with the priest's every proclamation, and they seemed like the type who never really questioned their choice because god told them it wasn't a choice at all.

Too bad I'd given up my allegiance to god when he let everything I believed in drift and fade away, like so much smoke of a forgotten campfire.

We left as soon as Mass was over because Jas's grandparents couldn't wait to get to sleep, and Carlisle and Esme turned in soon after. They each came into the living room to say goodnight, and reminded me to get some sleep before an early Christmas.

I didn't want to, though. I still hated going to bed without crawling in with Jas first, and it was Christmas Eve. I knew I had become used to the freedom we had at the Cullen's house, spoiled by it even, but four without curling up on a couch or in bed together was just too long. I felt the pull, imagined swinging my legs off the couch and saw myself moving to his door, just for a few more minutes of closeness. But, Rosalie was in there. And not only that but I could hear them talking, maybe even laughing, so I turned the TV on low and watched A Charlie Brown Christmas instead.

I avoided eye contact when Rosalie stalked through the living room, but as soon as I saw her reach for the bathroom door with her pajamas in her hand I knew those were the minutes I'd been waiting for. I crossed the room even as I clicked off the TV, tossing the remote back to the sofa with a soft thud.

I gave a soft knock before pushing the bedroom door open, but I still caught Jas in the middle of undressing. He quickly raised his jeans back over his askew boxers, but when he saw me his face relaxed and he straightened up, letting the jeans drop back down.

"I thought you were Rose," he said with a little smile that told me he was glad I wasn't.

"She's in the bathroom."

He nodded and smiled wide, before stepping directly out of his jeans and straight towards me. "She always takes a long time." The loose boxers swayed around his lean thighs when he walked, and I realized I'd missed those. His thighs.

"Come here," he whispered, and backed me up until I was just in front of the closed door. It was our tried and true safety net because, just like the night we'd talked in the theater bathroom, anyone opening the door would knock into us before seeing anything. And not only was it safe, but it gave me hope that our thoughts had gone to similar places.

Part of me felt dumb for missing him from less than ten feet away, but the rest of me reached for him, pulling myself against his chest and his lips without hesitation. What was worse was that he was in boxers, and both our bodies remembered exactly how long it'd been since they'd been pressed up together, naked. Even as he kissed me harder, though, we heard the rushing of water through the old pipes in the walls stop, and knew that Rosalie would be back soon.

Jas just wrapped his palms behind my neck and pulled me tighter.

"Careful," I mumbled against his lips. "Don't want to get caught." But then, when he didn't stop, it occurred to me, "Unless you do." He was the one who wanted tell her.

That got his attention, and fast. He dropped his hands and yanked his head back, suddenly looking very serious and wary. "No." He shook his head so hard his eyes got lost behind his hair. "No way. Edward, the only way this is going to work is if I tell her. If she finds out by accident, it'll be this huge secret I kept from her. Because it is."

"A secret?"

He held my gaze through his hair, as if trying to imprint his seriousness onto my retinas. "Huge. And you know Rose. She holds grudges."

I blinked at him, unsure whether or not that was a joke. Understatement of the year, more like. Finally, I nodded with an obvious, "Yeah."

He sighed and moved to pick up his pajama pants - the ones he only wore when he wasn't in his own room, or with me. As he pulled them up, he spoke in one of those whispers so quiet I could only understand him because I could see his lips moving too.

"Edward, I really do want her to know. I want her to know and be okay with it." To make up for his near-silence, though, he punctuated his points with rolling hand gestures. "But if she finds out by accident she'll think I was excluding her on purpose, and then I don't think she'll ever accept it. I have to tell her the right way."

In that moment of silence I wanted to say so many things. That he didn't need Rosalie's acceptance, and that he might never get it anyway because she hated me. I wanted to ask him to wait, wait for the right time, but I couldn't possibly imagine when that would be. I tried to think of how I'd told Alice, but I hadn't really, and that hadn't gone over very well anyway. And that reminded me that I still hadn't called her.

I took so long trying to come up with the right response that Jas moved to the twin bed that was his for the week and sat heavily onto the edge of it. Then he patted the spot beside him silently, and watched me settle in next to him. I sat close, with my thigh pressed up against his orange-slice pajamas, because I didn't want him to feel like there was any bad blood, and because I still missed being close to him.

I traced the outline of a seed in one of the orange slices on his knee and collected my thoughts.

"How come she has to know about me too? Why can't you just tell her about you?"

He didn't answer immediately so I looked up, and found him staring at me with that tender, crooked smile that seemed so out of place until he rubbed his palm across my cheek with a firm, warm pressure. I leaned into it, enjoying the way his fingertips brushed at my neck. "Because it's obvious."

For a moment that answer startled me, but I slumped as he dropped his hand. Unfortunately, that was probably a very valid point.

"I don't want to have to lie anymore. And as soon as she knows about me, she'll figure the rest out. It's the same with school, I can't come out without outing you too."

"So if it weren't for me, you'd tell everyone there too?"

I never got the answer to that, though, because I heard the door whoosh open behind me, and Jas's stare was suddenly poised over my shoulder.

I twisted around, watching her warily, but Rosalie had her clothes clutched to her chest and looked startled and annoyed to see me, as usual. All things considered, 'as usual' was probably a good thing.

Rosalie put her free hand on her hip and said, "Nuh-uh. None of this cub-scout meeting shit in my room."

"Rose," Jas said carefully, "we were just talking."

She rolled her eyes and jutted her hip out farther with the same over-dramatic flair I'd come to expect from her. "That's why you look like I just caught you digging up Mom's garden."

"Rose," Jas huffed with some exasperation I wasn't expecting. "I was ten."

"I don't care. I'm sick of walking in on private pow-wows, so go swap your secrets somewhere else."

I suddenly remembered Rosalie stomping through the living room, insisting to Esme that she didn't care about her secrets either. And with a lump in my stomach that seemed to suck the heat from my toes, I realized Esme was probably hiding the same secret. Our secret. So Rosalie knew that everyone was keeping something from her… which was exactly what Jas was afraid of.

He seemed to have thought exactly the same thing, because he'd turned nearly his whole body towards me and caught me in a pleading look. It wasn't puppy dog eyes, because Jas would never pull something so intentionally manipulative, but I knew he wanted to tell her so bad. His face was drawn and worried, almost begging, but also hopeful. Like if I just said yes, everything would be okay.

And I felt it. I felt Rosalie's stare and the intensity of his hope and the pressure of holding his happiness on my breath. Not that I thought any happiness could come from a conversation with Rosalie, but it felt so shitty and selfish to hold Jas back from a chance he believed in.

I wished it wasn't here, wasn't now, because I was afraid of how Rosalie would react and there was nowhere for me to get away. But Jas thought this would help, and he was always so much better at reading people than I was…

Really, what it came down to, was that the only way to ease the situation was to say yes. Rosalie had laid her cards out in the open, and if I asked Jas to walk out when he was so blatantly guarding a secret, she'd only get worse.

Reluctantly, almost imperceptibly, I nodded, and all I could see in Jas's face was gratitude.

Somehow, though, that seemed like the wrong answer, because Rosalie suddenly sucked in a sharp breath.

"Wait, is it him?" she demanded, looking back and forth between us with a scandalized expression. "Do you need his permission to talk?"

Neither of us said anything, and she took that as a yes. Her fury was all too easy to spot, so I was surprised when her anger came out mixed with pleading.

"Don't let him do that to you, Jasper. It's not right."

Still, he said nothing, and that was too much for her. Clothes still balled angrily in her hands, she insisted in a shrill voice, "Stop looking at him and talk to me."

Jas turned his face even farther away, trying to sheilf himself from her loud demands. But even as he did, I knew I deal on her level, no problem.

So I did. Just as loudly. "You don't have to yell all the time."

She spun towards me, still furious. "Oh really? Maybe that's the only way anyone can hear me through your sob story."

"Maybe if you weren't such a bi-"

"Stop."

His voice was so quiet, so restrained amidst our tactless volleys, but like a feather launched into a gun fight we both stopped to notice it.

He stood, purposefully. He may not have been able to stand a shouting match, but he was still Jas and he knew what he wanted.

"You said you'd try," he said to Rosalie, in that same soft tone, but before I could wonder what that meant he'd turned to me. "And you're not helping."

"What's going on," a deep voice demanded from the doorway, and we all looked to see a sleep-ruffled Carlisle.

Esme quickly slipped in from behind his arm, chastising us all. "You're going to wake Nan and Grandpop."

I stared at my bare feet, digging little valleys into the carpet, but again no one said a thing.

The tension was thick, like everyone was holding the same collective breath, and both Jas's parents stared at us in wonder.

"Who wants to tell us what's going on?"

Jas cleared his throat. "I just need to talk to Rose."

He blinked at his parents and they blinked back, but no one was any more forthcoming and Carlisle soon accepted his defeat.

"Inside voices," he told him, ticking a stern finger through the air.

Jas nodded while Rosalie just stared on, wide-eyed.

As Carlisle and Esme stepped back into the hall, Jasper's eyes flickered up to me.

"Just me."

I don't know why, but it felt like cold water down my back. He was about to out me too, and for some reason I'd always imagined myself there, just to stay on top of the situation. I wanted to stay, at least to keep Rosalie in check, but Jas stood his ground. I didn't know what else I could even say in front of her, so I just gave him a short nod and clicked the door shut behind me.

It wasn't over, though, because both Esme and Carlisle were still in the hall, and Esme put a small hand on my shoulder.

"Come on, Edward," she said, and led me to the couch.

They sat on either side of me, concern clearly written across their tired faces, and Esme arranged an extra knit blanket around her nightgown.

"What's going on?" she asked gently.

I stared forlornly at the floor, wanting to just sleep and get the day over with, but eventually I found the words.

"Jasper decided to come out."

"Here?" Carlisle asked, sounding mildly alarmed, but Esme slumped back against the cushions beside me.

"Oh, thank god," she whispered into the room, pressing one flat hand against her chest.

I watched her breathe out relieved sighs, bewildered, and she caught me staring.

"Oh, Edward," she said, beaming over at me as she rested a hand against my back. "This is a good thing, I promise. This will make everything easier."

I wanted to believe her, I really did, but until I saw it with my own two eyes I just couldn't let go of that tension in my chest.

"I'd like to sleep now," I said thickly, and Esme ruffled my hair before they slipped quietly past Jasper's room.

Of course, I didn't sleep. I waited for something to happen, for Jas to come out or Rosalie to make a scene, but nothing did. All I heard was one sharp, "what!" and then nothing.

When Esme's dad came out to pee and saw me still up I decided to turn off the lights. I crawled into bed, trying to imagine what they were saying. The quiet was probably a good sign. But still, I couldn't imagine Rosalie ever accepting us. Maybe him, but never me, or us together. I curled up tighter under the covers thinking that for a 'best case scenario', that was pretty pathetic.

I sat up at the first swing of a door, but it was just Esme's mom, so I forced my eyes to shut and tried to think sleepy thoughts. It didn't help. With the next crack of a light from the hallway I was instantly alert. Footsteps creaked across the living room, sounding heavy enough to be Jasper.

Then I heard someone put the toilet seat up, and I knew it was him. I waited, perfectly still, but it'd be lying to say I wasn't waiting for him to come to me.

For some reason, it seemed like he should make the first move.

I felt my heart thumping, driving any fatigue from my thoughts, when the footsteps left the bathroom and grew steadily louder. Only when I heard him feeling his way around the coffee table did I sit up.

"You're up?" he whispered.

"Yeah. What happened?"

"Can I crawl in?"

I was shocked that he wanted to risk it, even with Rosalie now knowing, but I wasn't about to deny him. Despite the pervasive darkness, Jas and I felt for each other like we had so many times before and he slipped in under the blanket with me. It was a narrow couch, impossible to both fit on unless we laid perfectly straight, but I wrapped an arm around his waist to keep him balanced on the cushions.

He pressed his forehead against my collarbone and I felt his heavy breathing seeping under my shirt.

"What did she say?"

More heavy breaths. "I've been a shitty brother."

That bitch. "She said that?"

"No," he said quietly. "No, she said I ignored her. Not just now, but before."

"Well, maybe if she wasn't such a-"

"Edward." His fingertips dug into my back. "Don't."

"Sorry," I said meekly. "What did she say about, you know?"

He pulled himself closer. "She says it's weird. She said I don't seem gay, and am I sure I'm gay." I rolled my eyes, glad he couldn't see my face. "But when I said I definitely was she seemed okay with it."

That should have been good news, exactly what Jas wanted, but there was still an edge of defeat to his voice. "But?"

"But she's angry. At you, mostly, even though I told her I let it happen. She thinks…she feels like you stole me."

"I didn't-"

"I know," he said, his voice soothing and his thumbs starting to pick up little patterns on my back. "I'll work on her. At least I've made a start."

Yeah. A start. "You don't think she'll tell anyone, do you?"

"No," he said, with striking confidence. "Definitely not. She was concerned about me coming out too."

Huh. Not that that meant we had anything in common, of course, but that was still good to know.

"I should go back," he added, still tightly pressed against me. "I just told her I had to pee." But he made no move to get up, and we laid in my tiny cocoon of a bed and buried ourselves in the familiar comfort of each other's arms.

After a few minutes, he asked, "What time is it?"

"One thirty, maybe."

"Oh." He shifted, his lips trailing wet patterns across my chin as he searched for my lips. It was a real kiss, deep and passionate, and offset by the gentle sweeping of his fingers behind my ear. It reminded me how much he wanted me, and loved me, and it was the first time all night I felt some modicum of peace because it was a kiss that reminded me he wasn't going anywhere.

"Merry Christmas, Edward."

"Merry Christmas, Jas."

Chapter 21