A/n: The inspiration for this fic was the idea of Carlisle wearing a t-shirt, so I started writing that and it took off in a very different direction, but I am very happy with it, I hope you are too! Enjoy! :)
Carlisle trudged up the stairs, just returning from a near triple shift at the hospital. He had yet to pull his mind from his patients and embrace the feeling of finally being home. He didn't even bother to listen if anyone else was home, he was so removed. He could have passed every member of his family on the stairs and he wouldn't have noticed. He walked straight into his room to change his clothes. He leaned against the back wall of the walk in closet as he untied his tie. He sighed heavily. If he wasn't a vampire, he would be exhausted. He shook his head and continued to undress.
Esme looked up from the blueprints she was working on when her husband walked into the room and right past her. It was abnormal for him to come home and not at least say hello, especially when he had been gone for nearly two days. Most of the time it was a "hello, love," and a kiss on the cheek, but today he didn't even notice her. At the sound of his sigh, she moved across the room. She fought back the laugh threatening to escape her when she found her husband standing in nothing but his underwear, trying to decide what to wear. Her eyes roamed over his perfect lithe body, already knowing every detail by heart. He still had his grey button down in his hand, obviously not sure whether Alice would like him wash it and keep it, or if he would be forced to donate it after one wear. He dropped the garment in resignation and continued to look through his clothes.
Carlisle was always weird about his clothing. He had been around for so long, through so many fashion stages and trends that keeping up with it all became bothersome. He grabbed a pair of khaki shorts, frowning at them, but pulling them on regardless. Esme could almost hear his voice griping, still hundreds of years later, about the impracticality of shorts. It's just so silly. I come from a time when shorts weren't even invented. There is no necessity for them. There is nothing you can do in shorts that you can't do in pants and they are rarely practical for people like us. She wondered what changed his mind this time. Carlisle reached up to grab a soft blue t-shirt off the top shelf. Esme watched the stretch of his abs as he did so and the subsequent bunch and pull of his biceps as he donned the garment. She knew in his human life he had blue eyes. Heartbreakingly blue, at least that's what her imagination told her. With his white blonde hair, the eyes she had pictured, and the shirt he'd just picked out he would have caught every woman's eye, even as a human. Now with his tawny eyes, that simply made him hers. All of those women who knew him as a human could have the memory of his blue eyes, despite the fact that they had all been dead and gone for centuries. And any woman who saw him now was just out of luck. This golden eyed, blonde haired, perfectly sculpted, kind hearted immortal was hers as long as they both shall live. She pulled herself out of her thoughts and decided it was time to get the attention of the beautiful man in front of her.
"Carlisle Cullen, I almost didn't recognize you in a t-shirt and shorts of all things," Esme smirked, taking a step out of the shadows and leaning against the doorframe.
"Oh, hello darling. I didn't hear you come in," he greeted, the surprise evident in his voice.
"That's because I was in here when you got home. I've been watching you since you we're standing there in your underwear," she laughed. If Carlisle could have blushed, he would have.
"It was a long shift," he admitted, his British accent dappling his words. The sound of his accent caused a warm feeling to settle in the pit of Esme's stomach. He rarely let it slip out in public anymore and when he was at home, it faded in and out due to the hundreds of years it had been since he live in London. Whenever she heard it, it reminded her of the Carlisle she knew as a teen, the Carlisle she fell in love with after he changed her.
"Not so long you started speaking with a British accent, I hope," she teased.
"Not quite, but a few more hours and all bets would've off," he chuckled, appreciating her joke. When he first started to Americanize himself, he struggled with it. It had been years since he had slipped up noticeably. "Do I look ok? I feel terribly underdressed. Maybe I should put another shirt on or maybe some real pants," he wondered, turning back to the large selection of clothes in his closet.
"Underdressed? Do you have a date or something, Dr. Cullen?" Esme asked, earning an eye roll from her husband. That wasn't what he meant and she knew it. She moved further into the closet. She looked him up and down. Her eyes followed the blue fabric as it pulled taught across his chest and hugged his biceps and down to where is rested against his firm abs. She moved down even further to the shorts slung low across his hips and showing off the muscular calves she rarely got a peek of outside of the bedroom. "I think you look…"she took a moment to find the right word. "Perfect," she decided, moving into his side. She pushed onto her toes to press a kiss to the side of his neck. She received no response for him. Not a laugh, an attempt to kiss her or even an arm around her shoulders. She pulled back to meet his eyes.
"Sorry love," he said quickly, registering her rejection. Truth be told, he was still lost in his work. His mind was going over the files he completed, the notes he left for the other doctors, the patients he had seen. He reached out to take her hand. "My mind is still at the hospital,"
"Ok then, it's time to go," Esme decided, tugging him towards the bedroom door. He was still in the mindset of Dr. Cullen and after nearly two days without him she needed him to just be Carlisle. She knew it was up to her to get him to relax enough to leave his work behind. Luckily, she knew just the trick.
"Where are we going?" he wondered, seriously starting to reconsider his outfit choice.
"Out," Esme replied vaguely, still pulling him along behind her.
"But Esme, darling, I don't even have shoes on," he protested.
"Neither do I," she giggled, stopping at the top of the staircase. Carlisle looked down at her feet to confirm her story. He smiled as she wiggled her toes for extra effect. His eyes traced her bare legs up to the bottom of her skirt. For the first time he noticed what she was wearing. Her sundress was covered in colorful flowers that crept across the hem where it fell at her knees and over the straps at her shoulders. Eventually both set of flowers gave way to green vines crawling towards her midsection from both the top and the bottom, but never touching, leaving the waist of her dress a pristine white. It must be a new dress; he had never seen it before. He continued up her body to find her beautiful caramel colored hair pulled into a side ponytail and curling around her neck. She looked absolutely stunning. He felt a little guilty that it had taken him so long to notice.
Esme could see the affection returning to Carlisle's gaze and she knew her plan was working. She tugged on his hand again. They raced off down the stairs and out the back door, coming to an abrupt halt at the edge of the porch. The extra inertia nearly sent Carlisle tumbling off the deck.
"Esme…" he groaned as he forced his body into a more stable position. By the look on her face, it appeared she had just remembered something.
"Do you need to hunt?" she asked. His eyes were still healthy bright amber, but with Carlisle it was always hard to tell. He had become so good at controlling his thirst throughout the centuries that he had shed nearly all the telltale signs of hunger. Esme tried to pinpoint the last time she had seen him hunt. In her mind, it didn't seem very recent, but that wasn't to say he hadn't gone out on his own or with one of the children or even Renesmee.
"No I'm fine, love," he smiled at her concern. "but I do need to know where we are going," he hoped she would give him a less vague answer this time.
"Carlisle, I told you. We're going out," she gave away no more than when he asked the first time. He rolled his eyes at her emphasis on the word out. "Speaking of which…" Esme trailed off as she flew into the woods. With a groan, Carlisle followed her. He knew if he didn't, she would come back and drag him to wherever they were headed.
They ran deep into the woods. Carlisle inhaled deeply, the thick wet air filling his lungs. If he took a moment to orient himself, he could at least figure out the direction they were headed in, but he didn't want to bother with that. At the moment he was enjoying the sight of his wife's agile body sprinting through the trees just a head of him. The wind caught her hair, sending her sweet sent right to him. He put a little more effort into his run, spurring himself forward to catch up with Esme. Once they were neck and neck, he pounced at her. They collided in midair, limbs tangling, bodies fighting to right themselves before gravity took over.
Esme let out a startled squeak and tucked her head against her husband's chest as she prepared herself to tumble to the ground. Instead of the expected impact with the damp earth and succeeding cloud of dirt and leaves, Esme felt her back meet the rough bark of a tree. She tried to look up at Carlisle to see how much of their landing he had orchestrated. Before she could read his face, however, his hand came up, gently turning her head away and exposing the curve of her neck.
Carlisle ran his nose along her smooth skin, inhaling the aura that he had become intimately familiar with over the last handful of decades. His tongue darted out to trace the faint white scar that had made her his. At just the thought of it a possessive growl threatened to rumble out of him. He muffled the sound by pressing his lips to her skin. Esme's giggle broke thorough the lusty cloud of his thoughts. He pulled back and met her eyes.
"What was that for?" she wondered.
"You smelled good," he shrugged. A hint of a triumphant smile played at her lips. He was going to ask what that was about but before he had the chance, she grabbed the low branch next to her head and used it to swing up to a higher limb on the next tree over.
She laughed again as she heard Carlisle following her into the treetops. His hedonic outburst told her that her plan was working like a charm. She was pulling her husband away from the mistress of his work and reclaiming him. She made her last leap onto a branch that was catching what little sun the cloud bank let through. She tucked herself against the trunk, curling one leg underneath her and hooking one leg around the branch. She was trying to be ladylike and not fall out of the tree at the same time.
Carlisle landed in a crouch about three feet in front of her. He brushed the leaves from his hair and settled into a more stable position. He smiled at Esme, his golden eyes twinkling. He noticed she looked rather content where she sat and apparently had no plans of jetting off again anytime soon. He raised an eyebrow, still trying to figure out what she was up to. She innocently batted her eyelashes and twirled the ends of her hair with her finger. He shook his head and pulled into an unnecessary stretch, simply a habit of acting human. He took advantage of the time to be still and lay back against the tree.
He stretched his body out across the branch, letting one leg dangle off the side and tucking his arms beneath his head. As the breeze blew, the sun would occasionally peek through the leaves, setting his skin aglow. His eyes were closed and his breathing was slow and easy. Esme smiled at him from where she sat against the trunk. For once, he looked every bit like the twenty three year old man he was. The doctor, the scholar, the patriarch, the father, and the grandfather all faded away. For that moment he was just Carlisle. Her Carlisle.
Esme grinned to herself as she crawled, catlike, onto her husband's chest. He let out a low chuckle as she settled her body against his. He wrapped and arm around her shoulders and lifted his head to kiss her hair. She sighed contentedly as she finally received the gesture she had been expecting earlier.
"Are you feeling better, my love?" she questioned, already knowing the answer.
"Yes, much, thank you," he breathed, enjoying the feel of the sun on his face. They were silent for a moment before he broke into a fit of laughter. Esme made a face as he jostled her out of her comfortable position. She sat up and straddled his hips. Her annoyance quickly faded as she saw the carefree mirth that oozed out of his expression. His warm laughter soon ceased and he met her eyes. "I get it," he stated.
"You get what?" she wondered, leaning forward, her hands on his shoulders, bringing them almost nose to nose.
"You literally meant we were going out. Out of my head," he chuckled, obviously proud of himself for figuring it out.
"Yes, I needed you to leave Dr. Cullen behind. I needed Carlisle. I missed him," she admitted, her features shifting from playful to sheepish.
"I'm sorry, darling. I sometimes forget that my long shifts at the hospital affect you too," he replied, his voice silky smooth. He moved to sit up, his legs locking around the branch. He took Esme in his arms and held her against him, kissing her deeply.
Esme moaned against his lips. It was their first real kiss in nearly two days. Yes, she had been kissing this man for the better part of a century, but it never got old, the craving never went away. Her fingers threaded into his blond hair, keeping his mouth against hers as her tongue swiped across his razor sharp teeth. He fisted the back of her dress, another possessive growl bubbling to the surface. This time he let it out. With a quick kiss, Esme pulled away. She let her head fall to his shoulder.
"I love you," she giggled, elated to have her husband back.
"I love you too," he breathed, bringing a hand up to stroke her hair. "Now that we're out, do we have to go back?" he teased, looking off into the woods. The house was barely in view, even with their enhanced vision.
Esme gripped his shoulders and pushed him back against the branch. She put her hands under her chin, propping her head up on his chest. "Not anytime soon, I hope," she smiled. Carlisle's smile widened until his eyes crinkled at the corners.
"Good," he decided, going in for another quick kiss. He wrapped his arms around her and let his eyes fall closed. He was just as removed as he had been when he returned from the hospital earlier. Only this time he was blissfully distracted by the feel of his wife in his arms and the small kisses she was peppering along the collar of his shirt. He was so grateful for Esme. She knew just what he needed, even if all he needed was to get out.