This was inspired by the lovely fr333bird. If you like the slash, check out her profile. She writes amazing stories for Twilight, Harry Potter, and Merlin (I don't get into all these Merlin shenanigans but I read her Merlin fics because they're so sweet).

Thanks to TheManiacalMuse for her suggested band names, one of which seemed just right. No thanks for SingleStrand, whose suggestions all included the word "jizz."

Am I still supposed to say that I don't own Twilight? I think I stopped doing that a while ago, oops.

The bench at the bus stop is freezing.

I try to tug my coat down lower to put another layer between my ass and the cold metal, but it doesn't help. My right leg bounces up and down-I'm not sure if it's because I'm nervous or if my body is trying to stay warm.

Edward will really love this, though. That I'm picking him up at the bus stop. He knows where my mom's house is, he could walk the two blocks on his own, but he'll love seeing me here waiting. No one else does shit like this for him.

Finally the bus turns the corner and I jump up from the bench. I squint as it makes its way to me slowly, looking for Edward even though I know he sits in the back. The brakes squeal as the bus lurches to a stop.

Swoosh-thunk. The doors open, and there he is-tall and gangly like me, but with a chest that's starting to get just a little more broad and manly. His hair is all fucked up, the normally wild strands matted down against his head like he's been wearing a hat all day.

He looks... gorgeous. Adorable. Sexy.

Edward hops off the steps and strides forward, coming right at me, and for a thrilling, terrifying few seconds, I think he's going to kiss me.

He stops short, though. Stands in front of me and just grins.

"Hey, Jasper," he says. Fuck me, do I want to kiss him.

"Hey. It's fucking cold, let's go." I want to kiss him so bad, or just fucking hold his hand. He hesitates for a minute, and I wish (for the millionth time) that this could be easier.

"C'mon," I tell him, nudging him with my elbow.

Even that small amount of physical contact in public makes him nervous, I can tell, but he eases up and falls into step beside me.

"Almost got detention today," he says, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his navy pea coat. "Would've sucked."

"Yeah, seriously. What'd you do?"

"I uh, I just couldn't pay attention in calculus. Teacher kept calling on me but I wasn't listening, didn't have any answers."

I snort. "Bet that went over well, Boy Genius." His cheeks flush red and I nudge him again.

"Yeah, she said I was being 'deliberately disrespectful,' or whatever. Made me stay after class, but I apologized and told her my parents were on my case and stuff. She let me go after that," he says, shrugging like it's nothing, like it's something he just made up to get out of trouble. Like he wasn't telling the truth.

Fuck, I really want to hold his hand.

"Glad you didn't have to stay after," I tell him honestly.

He smiles again-the wide, happy smile he saves for me. "Me too."

When we get to my place, he stands on the front porch and looks around warily before following me inside.

As soon as the door is closed, some of his tension seems to melt away.

Even though we go to different schools, even though Edward lives on the other side of town, even though there's no way in hell that anyone in his parents' social circle would ever be in this neighborhood, he's still paranoid.

They know that he's gay. Well, they know that he said he was gay. They just don't believe him. They think he's "acting out" or "going through a phase."

We met online, on a message board about this local band, Double Down, that we both really like. We traded emails and instant messages for months, sharing pics and YouTube videos of the band. Eventually we started talking about life, too, and after a lot of hints were dropped, we both came out to each other.

It was awesome.

I was so psyched to have a kid my age to talk to about feeling different and worrying about school and guys and shit. My mom tries to be all positive and involved, but there are some things you just can't discuss with your mom-like how hot the lead singer of Double Down is.

The first time he came to my place, my mom was home. She hugged him and kissed his cheeks, and I thought he was going to run out the door. Edward likes that stuff, though-I don't think his parents are very affectionate. I was so relieved that we got along in real life just like we did online, and I thought he was beautiful.

We've spent a lot of time together since then-we even got my mom to drive us downtown so we could go to a DD concert. He's my best friend now, and I know I'm his.

I think we might be more than that, too, but I'm not sure yet. We haven't really had much time alone, until today.

My mom left this morning for one of her hippie soul-searching retreat things, and my older brother is supposed to be "watching" me. Peter works though, long hours, and he won't be done with work tonight until eleven at the earliest. I texted him to confirm that at least three times today.

"It's quiet," Edward says, toeing off his boots and lining them up neatly next to the front door. "Your mom's always singing."

"She's mental." I kick my shoes off and leave them where they lie, enjoying the freedom of having the house to myself.

"Nah, she's cool." Edward shakes his head while he talks, shrugging off his coat at the same time. Sometimes I forget how mean Edward's parents are compared to mine, and I feel guilty for saying shit like that about my mom. She knows I'm gay and it's never once changed the way she treats me. The only bad thing about is the safe sex talks are even more embarrassing.

"CoD?" I ask, leading him to my room.

"Yeah, sounds good." Edward follows me and sits on the floor in front of my bed, facing the TV. Usually I sit up on the bed behind him, but today I sit on the floor, too.

We play XBox games for a while, elbows clanking and knees bumping together occasionally. We've played video games together a dozen times, but this time it's different. I keep getting shot because I can't pay attention to the game-Edward's profile is distracting me. His lips, mostly. He keeps licking them, which makes me think about tongues and kissing and-

"Ouch! Did that hurt? When I shot you in the face?" he laughs. When he turns to catch my reaction, he must realize I'm staring at him. His cheeks turn bright red and he looks back at the television.

It's fucking awkward. Maybe it's my one chance, though, to say something. Or try something.

I fumble with the buttons on my controller, and my mouth opens before I've really thought the words through. "Do you ever think about getting a boyfriend?"

Edward's jaw drops and he looks down at his lap. "I... I don't think-" He stops suddenly when we hear the front door slam.

"Jay? You here?" Peter bellows.

"He's not supposed to come home," I mutter, before answering my brother in a louder voice. "In my room!" Edward scoots away, putting some distance between us before Peter sticks his head in the doorway.

"Just came home to get some dinner before I go back for the late shift," he says, his eyes flickering back and forth between me and Edward. "Hey, Eduardo."

"Hey." Edward is scrolling through the menus on the XBox like he's on a mission.

"Jay, come help me out in the kitchen for a minute, man," he says. I raise an eyebrow and gesture to Edward, wondering what the fuck he wants from me when I have a friend over. Peter gives me a dirty look and nods in the direction of the kitchen before he disappears.

"Be right back," I tell Edward.

Peter's waiting for me with the refrigerator door open, a bottle of Gatorade in his hand as he rifles through the food.

"What do you want? We're playing CoD. I don't want to make him wait," I tell Peter, shoving him out of the way so I can grab two Cokes.

"Is Mom cool with him being here?" he asks. "I don't want to be a dick about it or anything, just asking."

"Yeah, she said I could have a friend over, but only one. No parties," I tell him honestly, tucking the Cokes under my arm and grabbing a bag of chips. Our mom is really cool about house rules, so we've both always done our best to stick to the ones she does lay down.

"Right, a friend. Are you allowed to have your boyfriend over here alone?" he asks.

Shit. Now it's my turn to blush.

"Jesus, Pete. He's not my fucking boyfriend."

"Riiiiight," he says, slamming the fridge closed with his hip after he's found some leftovers. "You don't have to lie about it, Jay."

"I'm not lying! Jesus!" I'm fucking mortified.

"Well, look, that's cool. If you're just friends, it's all good. If you're like, together, I don't know what the rules are." He dumps some casserole on a plate and puts it in the microwave.

"What were the rules when you were my age?" I ask, exasperated.

Peter stops to think, leaning against the kitchen counter. "You know Mom. She always said she'd rather have me bring a girl here than sneak around in parking lots and shit, as long as I was being safe. She didn't want me knocking some girl up." He snorts, crosses his arms over his chest, and grins at me. "Guess that's one thing you don't have to worry about."

"Guess not," I tell him, rolling my eyes. "Can I go back to my friend now?"

"Fine," Peter says, moving out of my way. "Just don't do anything crazy. And if you ever decide to do something crazy, there's condoms and lube in my nightstand drawer. I don't need to explain that shit to you, do I?"

"Christ, this is not happening to me," I mumble. "No, Peter, Mom demonstrated quite graphically with a banana and traumatized me for life by making me practice on one, too."

"You'll get over it, bro. Trust me," he says, laughing and clapping me on the shoulder as I pass by him, my arms full of chips and soda.

"Everything alright?" Edward asks, as I walk back into my bedroom. I kick the door closed behind me and drop the chips on the floor next to him.

"Yeah, he's just on a power trip," I tell him. "It's cool."

After a couple of hours of video games, Edward tosses his controller down and rubs his eyes with his fists.

"I can't look at the screen anymore," he says.

"Yeah, me either." I slump back against my bed and watch Edward stretch his arms up over his head. I can see just a little sliver of skin when his t-shirt rises up over the waistband of his jeans, and it's the sexiest thing I've ever seen. I know instantly that the next time I jack off, it won't be to celebrities, faceless guys, or the snippets of porn I've found online-it will be all about that little slice of pale flesh on my best friend's back.

"What do you wanna do now?" he asks, and I have to bite my tongue to stop from moaning. My dick is getting hard, and we're so close, I'm fucking terrified he's going to see it. And I kind of want him to see it.

"We could, uh, get some food, I guess?" I offer, drawing my knees up to my chest. "Or we could watch a movie on demand or something."

Edward's quiet, really quiet.

Even when he talks again, his voice is barely a whisper.

"Before-before your brother came home? You asked me about... boyfriends?"

I swallow hard and wrap my arms around my knees. "Yeah, I mean, we don't really talk about it. Have you... or like, are you looking for anyone?"

He shakes his head sadly. "I wouldn't even know how to start... I mean, I'm not out at school, and my parents... yeah. It's not like I could have anyone come over or whatever. And..." His voice trails off and he looks down at the carpet, dragging his fingers through the pile in random little patterns.

"And what?" My voice is shaking, and I clear my throat to try to cover up my nerves.

"I wouldn't know what to do," he whispers. "I wouldn't know how to... I've never even kissed anyone. And guys seem like they go really fast, you know? No girl to slow things down or whatever."

"I kissed someone," I admit. "But it was a girl. It wasn't any fun."

Edward just nods, and I worry that I've embarrassed him.

"I've never seen another guy's dick," I blurt out. "I mean, not in real life. Only in porn. I wouldn't know what to do."

"Me either." Edward lifts his head and stares at me.

For a long time, a really long time, we just look at each other. It feels like we're both waiting for the other one to say something, but I don't know what that something is.

It turns out Edward is the brave one, the one to get things started.

"We could-" he starts, and I cut him off with my enthusiasm.

"Yeah."

"Just to see?"

"Yeah," I tell him again, letting go of my death grip on my knees. I stretch my legs back out on the floor in front of me and see that my boner is tenting my pants pretty obviously now. Edward's eyes drop to my lap and he licks his lips.

Shit. This isn't going to last long.

"I'm kind of hard already," I admit, the sound of my voice echoing in the quiet room.

"Me too," he says, dropping one hand down between his legs. He rubs at the bulge forming there, and I feel my heartbeat start racing.

We watch each other rub our dicks through our clothes, the sound of fabric shifting mixing with our heavy breathing.

When my dick starts aching and the urge to really stroke it is too much, I tug at the button at my waistband. Edward watches, rapt, and slows down the movement of his hand while I undo my flies.

"Yeah," he whispers, almost to himself, as I slip my hand under my boxer briefs and wrap it around my dick. I sigh and stroke myself slowly, relieved to have some direct contact, but I'm afraid to pull it out completely.

What if Edward's is bigger? A lot bigger? What if it's different? What if he doesn't like mine? What if there's something wrong with it and I just haven't seen enough other ones to notice?

I almost miss the sound, with all the panic going on in my brain. A zipper sliding down, and Edward shuffling around on the floor. He pushes his legs out in front of him just like me, but lifts his hips and pushes his jeans down to his knees. He's wearing blue plaid boxers, his erection pushing up urgently against the fly.

"Same time?" he says, slipping one hand beneath the waistband. He must be worrying about the same things that I am, which is comforting.

"Yeah, same time," I agree. Slowly, with my eyes locked on Edward's lap, I push my underwear down with one hand and pull my dick out with the other.

Holy Shit. Edward's dick is different. He's got a foreskin, and the skin is paler, pinker than mine. His hand is wrapped tightly around it, his thumb brushing slowly back and forth against the sheath covering the head.

"Wow," he says. I nod my head in agreement until I realize that he's looking at mine. I glance down at my own familiar cock resting in my loose fist.

"It's nothin' special," I tease, and Edward looks up into my eyes for the first time since we started all this. He smiles, but his eyes drop down over my body and back to my dick.

"It's big," he says.

"We're about the same, I think."

"You're definitely bigger," he insists.

"Maybe." I'm trying hard to talk to Edward instead of attacking him; he never said he wanted to do anything but look. My hand, though, automatically goes through the motions-gripping, twisting, and stroking my needy erection.

"Jesus," Edward whispers. "Are you always so rough like that?"

"I don't know. It's just what I do, I guess. What do you do?" I ask him, hoping that he'll show me instead of just telling.

"I guess just... like this," he says, tugging on his cock. I watch the sheath of skin slip over his head to cover it, and then back down towards the base of his dick with the motion of his hand. The tip of his cock is bright pink, flushed, and shiny wet. I think about leaning forward and licking it, wrapping my lips around it and sucking, but I can't bring myself to move. The only part of me that seems to be functioning is my right hand.

"Does it feel good?"

"Yeah, really good," he says.

Even though I can hardly bear to stop touching my cock, my hand is too fucking dry. I lift it up to my mouth, spit, and drop it back down quickly.

We each speed up a little as we watch each other. Edward pushes his boxers down over his hips completely and cups his balls with his free hand, rolling each one between his thumb and his forefinger. I press down right at the base of my dick, and then smooth my hand up over my stomach and under my shirt.

"That looks really good," I tell him, watching him play with himself with both hands.

"Fuck," he whines, lifting his hips up off the floor. "What do you... what do you usually think about?"

"Guys... like... celebrities. Or guys in porn. Or..." You, I think, but I can't bring myself to say it.

"No one you know?" he asks, gasping as he works himself over harder. His neck and his face are flushed, his head turned to the side to face me.

"Sometimes," I admit, turning to face him, too. We both have our cheeks pressed against the bed, and we've managed to tear our eyes away from each others' dicks. He's looking right at me, his lips parted as he moans and gasps, and I feel my balls start to tighten and my thighs start to quiver.

"Do you ever think about me?" he asks, his voice desperate.

"Yeah. Fuck, yeah," I whisper, and Edward's eyes squeeze shut.

"Oh, God!" he calls out, and I look down at his hands just in time. He's stroking himself fast and hard, the head of his cock bright red now as cum starts spurting out onto his t-shirt. "Fuck, Jasper. Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

I don't know if it's the sight or the sound of him coming, or just the thought that he's so turned on by me, but it's only seconds before I'm coming too. I feel the warm spurts falling over my stomach and my hand, and I keep stroking myself through it as I watch Edward squeeze the last few drops of jizz out of his own cock.

"Jesus," I moan, my body slumping over slightly as my tense muscles all ease at once. My forehead knocks against Edward's, and suddenly I can feel his hot breath against my mouth. My eyes flutter open and I see him staring at me, his face so fucking close, and this time I'm the brave one. I tilt my head and push my lips softly, tentatively against his.

He kisses me back, and I can feel him smiling against my lips. It's slow and tender, both of us cuddly and sated after coming together. Edward's hand cups the back of my head, holding me to him, and we kiss until we're both panting and out of breath again.

"Wow," he whispers, when he finally pulls away.

"That was so hot," I tell him, laughing as he combs his fingers through my hair.

"Oh, shit, Jasper. I think I got cum in your hair!" he says, pulling his hand away. He laughs and wipes his sticky fingers on his boxer shorts. Even though this situation should be awkward-we just jerked off in front of each other and our dicks are still exposed-Edward is more relaxed and happy than I've ever seen him.

"Fuck it," I tell him, tugging his hand back up and encouraging him to wrap it around my neck again. He chuckles and leans in, pressing his lips to mine over and over again.

Eventually we break apart and clean ourselves up, taking separate turns in the bathroom.

"Want to borrow a t-shirt?" I ask, using a finger to trace the cum stains on his shirt after he reappears in my bedroom.

"Yeah, that'd be good," he says, grinning. I grab a t-shirt from my drawer and turn around in time to stare blatantly as he pulls his own soiled shirt up and over his head. He drops it on the floor and reaches out for mine, but I tease him by pulling it back at the last second.

"Jerk," he says, laughing again. I step forward and wrap my arms around him, letting myself touch the warm skin at his lower back that I had fantasized about just a few hours ago. He rests his head against my shoulder, his lips pressed to my neck.

It's heaven.

We break apart when his phone rings though, a DD song blaring at us through the thin fabric of his backpack. Edward dives for it, forgetting about his shirt, and answers it just as the ringtone starts over.

"Mom?" he says.

I sit on the bed and bite my lip, watching Edward as he listens to his mother.

He's frowning now, and nodding his head slowly. "I'm at a friend's house... yeah, the kid I went to the concert with."

Suddenly, a huge, happy smile spreads over Edward's face. "I don't know, let me ask," he says, turning to me. "Jasper, do you think your mom would mind if I spent the night? My parents are at a party across the sound and want to stay the night there."

"Yeah, she won't mind," I tell him, raising my voice just enough that the phone will pick it up.

Edward talks to his mother for another minute or two, and I think about my own mom-no way would she let me stay at a house she's never seen, with someone she's never met. Sometimes it seems overprotective, but the fact that Edward's mom doesn't care at all makes me kind of sad for him. I make a mental note to be a little nicer to my mom when she gets back.

Later, after we've eaten most of the food my mom left for the weekend and watched two hours worth of Double Down concert videos, Edward and I climb into my bed.

Only when it's dark and his face is inches from mine, lying on his own pillow, does he bring up the conversation that started it all.

"You asked me if I think about boyfriends," he whispers.

"Yeah?"

"I do. I think about you, being my boyfriend," he admits. He clears his throat and reaches for my hand under the covers. "If you want to be?"

I lace my fingers through his and squeeze his hand, sighing contentedly.

"I'm glad you're brave enough to say it, Edward. That's what I've wanted for a long time."

Happy New Year, Everyone. Thanks to everyone who reads and reviews my little one-(and two- and three-) shots, which is about all I have time to write these days. It means more to me than you'll ever know.