A/N: Kris is sleepy. How are you?
It occurred to Carlisle that it had been a long time since he didn't know his role in a relationship. He knew how to be a good husband, father, doctor, friend, and Dom. There had been a brief period when he didn't think he could fill his role as Edward's husband and Dom, but that had been his whole problem—he knew what he was supposed to be and couldn't, for a time, reach it.
How to be his father's son eluded him. Being his caretaker was easy enough. But casual conversation seemed beyond them.
It was a long flight.
Edward had dropped off his car at the airport the night before. It had been too complicated to try to figure out how to fit Edward, Carlisle, the triplets, and William into their car. Carlisle also hadn't wanted to introduce Esme to this dynamic yet. He had a close relationship with his best friend, and he didn't want his father's wheels to start turning. So, after a long, awkward flight, they were in for a long, awkward ride home.
As they got closer, William kept making a disgruntled noise and repositioning himself.
"Are you okay, Dad?" Carlisle asked finally. "Is there something you want to say or something you need?"
The old man grunted and shifted in his seat again. "It seems wrong."
Carlisle braced himself. "What seems wrong?"
"I shouldn't meet my grandchildren empty-handed."
Carlisle's lip twitched, and he chastised himself internally for assuming the worst. That was actually a very sweet thought. "You mean you want to bring them a gift? Or a treat, maybe?" He nodded. "We can do that. We can stop somewhere, if you'd like."
William cleared his throat. "I would appreciate that."
They ended up at Target, perusing the aisles at William's painfully slow walk. The stubborn old man had didn't like his walker. He'd use his cane, but not his walker.
It wouldn't be an option for long, so Carlisle held his tongue. His father was dying. A long death often took a person away piece by piece. He just had to make sure he was close, lest his father get too unsteady.
"So, what were you thinking?" Carlisle asked, keeping his hand near his father's elbow as they walked.
"Hmm." William frowned. "I'm sure you have them spoiled. Fancy contraptions. Expensive games and toys."
Carlisle actually had to struggle not to roll his eyes. "They're children. They play with mud. Whatever you get, they'll love it."
Somehow, William found a spinning top—an old-school wooden one. He also seemed to think it was a travesty that the kids didn't have a jack-in-the-box. Even though he thought they were a little old for the simple toy, Carlisle didn't argue. Doubtless they would have fun. Especially since it was Curious George. William seemed touched that the children knew about Curious George.
"You had the whole set when you were a boy," William said.
Carlisle cleared his throat. "I know. It's the same set." One of the few things he'd kept from his lonely childhood. "Well. It's been added to over the years. There are new books. A TV show. But the originals are there too."
William turned the jack-in-the-box over in his hands. "You had a stuffed toy. You carried it everywhere." He shook his head. "And you left it in a hotel room. The only thing you had responsibility for. I'd never seen you so bereft over a toy." He huffed. "You were a careless child."
In spite of himself, Carlisle ducked his head, a lump rising to his throat. His father had an uncanny ability to remind him he'd killed his mother in a few succinct words. The old man had already turned, heading to the registers. Carlisle closed his eyes and took a deep breath, calming himself before he followed.
He knew better, he reminded himself. He knew he'd been a scared child, and one who'd paid too high a price for one careless moment. It didn't matter what this man thought, father or not.
As he fell into silent step beside his father again, Carlisle tried to reorient his thinking. What mattered now was that his father wanted to be kind to his children. He'd worried about that—whether the man would still be distant and cold. His children didn't understand coldness. Even though many of the people in their social circle were childless by choice—or by circumstance like Emmett and Rosalie—they were always treated with adoration and warmth.
That was the most important thing. He had come to the conclusion long ago that he didn't need his father's forgiveness. And honestly, a part of him understood, to an extent. He couldn't fathom treating his children the way his father had treated him under any circumstance, but at the same time, he had no concept of what he would do if he lost Edward so suddenly and violently. Who would he become?
Putting that horrible thought out of his head, he got his father and his purchases in the car. He sent a text to Edward letting them know they were on their way again.
"This is some neighborhood." William looked out the window as they got closer, one eyebrow quirked as he looked at the houses.
Carlisle couldn't tell if that was a compliment. "We like it here."
His father actually whistled as they pulled up in front of the house. Carlisle had to work not to smirk. There was no denying he was a successful man. "It's big enough," William said.
"Five of us," Carlisle said with a shrug. He'd had this house when it was only him. His houses and his cars were the only things he liked lavish.
Well. He also didn't mind the odd fancy dress party. The kind where there was dancing, a pretentious meal, and his beautiful husband in a smart looking suit.
He got his father's things out of the trunk. He wheeled the large suitcase with one hand, offering his other arm to steady William. Surprisingly, his father took it. He had the sneaking suspicion William was nervous.
They got to the door, and Carlisle opened the door. "We're home," he called.
The response was immediate. There was the thunder of little feet. Ethan and Izzy came barreling down the hallway, yelling for him. Edward, carrying Lucas, wasn't far behind them. Carlisle bent down, scooping his children into his arms. He stood up, letting their feet dangle as he kissed their cheeks and nuzzled their noses with his.
"Daddy, Daddy, I'm so glad you're home. Finally." Izzy hugged him and pressed a moist kiss to cheek.
"You can't go away again for a long ever," Ethan said sternly.
Carlisle chuckled and ruffled his son's hair as he set them both down again. "Not for a long ever. You got it, little man." He looked up then, wrapping an arm around Edward's waist and pulling him close. He cupped Luke's cheek, kissing his forehead. Luke lurched from Edward's arms, putting his arms around Carlisle's neck. Carlisle gave Edward a quick, chaste kiss before he pulled back, Luke held securely in one arm.
"Kids. This is your grandpa William," Carlisle said quietly, putting a hand on William's shoulder.
Ethan and Izzy walked right to him, staring up.
"Hello, Grandpa." Ethan squeezed his cane, looking curious.
"You're our Daddy's Daddy," Izzy said importantly.
William cleared his throat. "I am at that. What's your name, young lady?"
Izzy lit up. She loved being called a young lady as long as no one was chastising her. "My name's Isabel Daya Cullen."
"Daria," Edward translated with a smile.
"Thas what I said." Izzy gave her father a perplexed and vaguely irritated look.
"And I'm Ethan Jackson Cullen," Ethan said, bouncing on his feet.
William gave a hum of approval. He looked up at Lucas in Carlisle's arms. "And you, young man? What's your name?"
Lucas turned his head, burying his face in Carlisle's neck. Carlisle rubbed his back. "Can you say hello to your grandpa?"
Lucas made a vague grunting noise against his skin.
"He's just shy, Grandpa." Izzy said, taking William's hand and swinging it. "His name is Lucas Liam Cullen."
"I see," said William.
"Why don't you kids show your grandfather the living room? I'm sure he'd like to sit down," Edward said.
"I can help. I can help." Izzy hung on to her grandfather's hand with both of hers.
Carlisle followed long enough to make sure his father was all right with the kids. He set Lucas down on the furthest end of the couch, knowing he'd be fine with his siblings with him. "You kids be careful, okay? You can't climb on Grandpa like you do with Daddy and me."
"They're all right," William said, pushing Izzy's wild hair out of her eyes with a gentle smile.
"Okay. Edward and I will get the rest of your things."
Edward was waiting for him in the foyer, and reached for his hand even as they headed for the door. As soon as the door was safely closed, Carlisle pulled his boy to him again, wrapping him up in his arms. Edward tilted his head up, catching Carlisle's kiss.
It was a hungry kiss, voracious, and over too quickly. But it was enough. Like a breath of cold, pure air. Edward laughed against his ear. "I'm glad to see you too."
Carlisle laughed too, rocking back and forth on his heels. "Ah. What am I doing, Edward?"
Edward pulled back, stroking the backs of his knuckles down Carlisle's cheek, his green eyes lit with that look he had never quite gotten used to. Like Carlisle was the most beautiful and amazing thing he'd ever seen. "The right thing. Like always." He kissed him once more, brushing his fingers through his hair. "It's going to be okay. We're going to be okay." He tilted his head so their foreheads were touching. "You're home now."
Carlisle took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Okay. Let's get this done."
~0~
It was a long evening, though not a bad one. As Carlisle predicted, the children loved the toys their grandfather had brought. Lucas was fascinated and perturbed by the top. Try though he might, he couldn't get the thing to spin with his clumsy, toddler-sized hands. He got over his shyness enough to thrust the thing at William with a plaintive, "please," and big, puppy dog eyes.
Izzy and Ethan, in the meantime, couldn't get enough of the Jack-in-the-Box. They spun it, chortling under their breaths in anticipation. They spun the crank slower and slower until the inevitable POP. Then, they would scream and collapse onto the floor in paroxysms of giggles.
William was as calm and patient with the kids as he had been with children in his church. He answered their endless questions, nodded as though their prattling was endlessly interesting, and didn't mind when they played with his cane. Carlisle breathed a little easier seeing it.
Still, though his father gave the children small smiles, Carlisle never could tell what he was thinking. He couldn't get rid of the knot of anxiety in the pit of his stomach.
Some part of him still wanted to know he'd pleased his father. The way William looked around the house, at the study they'd converted for his use, Carlisle couldn't read his poker face. It was a face he remembered well from childhood—cool disinterest bordering on disapproval. It was putting him on edge.
His anxiety got all the worse when the kids threw a predictable tantrum at bedtime.
Carlisle came back down the stairs, rubbing his temples. That was when his father decided he had something to say. Apparently, he thought Carlisle and Edward had been too easy on the kids. "They'll walk all over you if you let them."
"They're not even three, Dad. You're new and exciting to them. They're over-stimulated, and they don't know how to express themselves well yet. They don't need to be punished. They need us to be calm and talk them through it. They're still learning."
His father harrumphed but, thankfully, left it at that.
Hours later, the house was quiet. Edward was asleep beside him, but Carlisle's eyes were still open. He groped for his phone, noting it was almost one in the morning. With a sigh, he gave up the pretense. Before he got out of bed, he looked over his shoulder. He ran a finger along Edward's cheek, smiling.
After a moment, Carlisle got up and made his way downstairs. Since his study was in use, he retreated to the living room with a tumbler of whiskey. He sat mostly in darkness, thinking and not thinking.
It might have been an hour before a rustle alerted him to another presence in the room. He looked up to find his husband walking softly across the room to him. Carlisle couldn't help but smile at the sight of him—bare-chested and sleepy, hair mussed.
Carlisle had never quite known what he was missing, never having a long-term relationship before this troublesome brat wandered into his life. His relationships were limited to the Dom-sub dynamic. There was nothing wrong with that. He played scenes with men he cared a great deal about. For hours at a time, he experienced a world of unlimited intensity and pleasures the likes of which he could never describe.
But with Edward, he'd found something he'd never known. A different kind of intimacy, no less intense. Sometimes, they were best like this—clothed and quiet. When they were so in tune, they didn't need words.
He reached out, taking Edward's hand as his husband sat on his lap, a warm, welcome weight. The world, so complicated and loud of late, dwindled down to the space between the arms of the recliner. Edward settled one arm around his shoulder, stroking his cheek with the other hand. Carlisle simply breathed, his eyes on Edward's, holding him and watching him. This beautiful man with his soft, adoring smile. Carlisle shuddered as a swell of emotion went through him. He closed his eyes as Edward ducked his head, running his nose along Carlisle's cheek, nuzzling the side of his hair. He pressed the softest of kisses there beside his ear.
After long minutes of basking, soaking in Edward's touch, letting his adoration and peace seep to the marrow of his bones, Carlisle responded. He ghosted his lips at Edward's jawline, not kissing, but using them to caress. He ran a hand up and down Edward's back, feeling his shoulders rise and fall.
He felt the heat of Edward's breath before they kissed—a sweet, slow meeting of lips and tongue. And Carlisle found again what had been missing for days. His balance. His sense of rightness in the world. He found his calm, peaceful center and heard the truths Edward spoke with his kiss, his touch, his solid weight in Carlisle's arms.
The man—boy—his father had told him he was didn't exist. That person was a figment of William's imagination. Edward knew who Carlisle really was. Saw his strengths and weaknesses, his beautiful and ugly parts, and loved him, whole and complete, without conditions or limits.
They may have stayed that way for hours, merely nuzzling, caressing, and occasionally kissing. Carlisle had no idea. He had no concrete knowledge of when their kisses got slower, their breaths more even. Consciousness ebbed and flowed. Edward's head lolled on Carlisle's shoulder, his breath wet against his neck.
Carlisle was only vaguely aware of a disturbance in the atmosphere, a break in the peace. His mind focused just as eyes caught movement beyond the little world of the recliner. There was someone in the doorway. Not a child. His children were small and noisy. No. This was a tall, silent figure.
His father and his narrowed, angry eyes.
Though Carlisle's body tensed automatically, he didn't move. This was an expression he knew how to read—pure disapproval. And rather than make him anxious, it only made him irritated. This was his house. He'd be damned if he would let his father make him feel ashamed of loving his husband.
So, instead of reacting, he tilted his head to rest on Edward's and closed his eyes again. If his father needed something, he could say.
He heard his father's shuffling step, and when he opened his eyes again minutes later, the living room was empty again.
A/N: Parental drama. Heh.
How you guys, doin'?