A/N: Hi FF friends! As promised, I revisit our OTP, present day AU couple on the anniversary I made for them two years ago. I will see you again in 12 months as I continue with plans to update once a year until 3 February 2030 that begins the next Year of the Dog. I have a nice running list of dozens of chapter titles and even some storylines banked up for that. So, God-willing, we're in for the long haul. In the meantime, I am enjoying thefirstdogs (on Twitter), Champ and Major Biden and hope you're all safe and well
Enjoy and please let me know if that's the case!
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Thursday, 4 February 2021
10:00 pm
Charles locked the door behind him, shutting out the Brighton night. As he bent to unhook Violet's leash, he inquired, "Any breakthroughs, Becks?"
Across the room from where he was now kicking off his wellies, his deep-in-concentration sister-in-law had but a single-word reply, "One."
As Charles walked toward Becky and the cottage's dining table, he blew his nose along the way. "And Elsie, did she give up?" He asked as he tucked his handkerchief back in his pocket.
"Aye, you know she's not as persistent as me."
He chuckled knowingly then as he prepared to fill Violet's water bowl in the kitchen.
A tired Violet herself was stretching beside the dog bed midway between Becky's chair and the fireplace, its embers fading as Charles had banked it before the two of them stepped out for the day's final walk. As Charles returned to the table then, he donned the reading glasses that he'd left beside Becky fifteen minutes prior. He braced his body weight leaning into one hand on the table, draping the other on the top rail of Becky's chair from behind.
As he studied the puzzle pieces from Becky's perspective now, he was pleased when she crowed, "Ooh, another one!" and fit the piece in its place.
"Brilliant, Becky, well done," Charles squeezed her shoulder then, encouragingly.
He'd lost count how many jigsaw puzzles they'd collaborated on together since late November, mainly just he and Becky; tough ones, 1000 pieces and beyond. More puzzles were all she'd asked Father Christmas for and he'd come through.
Jigsaw puzzles weren't the only thing they did together to be sure. Charles mainly did the shopping for the household, whilst he and Becky together handled the cooking. Together with Elsie — and Violet — they walked a great deal as well. In fact, it was Violet's need for more exercise that had partly prompted Becky's extended stay in Brighton now.
Elsie and Charles had regularly FaceTimed with the younger Hughes as they continued their decampment to Brighton due to Covid into the autumn. It was only after a late November vet visit back in London that Beryl phoned them as both she and Bill were concerned with how much weight Violet had put on during the coronavirus. Locked down with Becky and her housemates who generously shared biscuits and, largely confined to their yard, Violet had packed on the weight. In contrast, Charles had dropped weight during Covid as he took long bike rides and walks and otherwise kept cottage life in order whilst Elsie continued to work during the days, initially from Becky's room, and since her arrival in their bedroom.
The Carsons had planned to make a November day trip into London anyway, to visit Becky, gather their winter clothing and attend Sybbie's socially-distanced, outdoor birthday the weekend prior to her actual day. They simply adjusted their plans and filled up the Rover with Becky, Violet and their belongings transported back to Brighton as well.
There's only so much connection one can maintain from a distance via technology over many months. Days and weeks together in Brighton lifted all their spirits immensely, more than any of the three of them had even anticipated. Despite the accentuated end of year stressors on many of Elsie's clients, having Becky around actually prompted Elsie to lighten her workload in December and into the new year. And Becky's time in Brighton had really furthered the bond Charles had built with her over the now approaching three years he and Elsie had been together.
On the other hand, having Becky and Violet around 24/7 cramped their sex life; Elsie and Charles were still newlyweds after all. But it was not Becky who was the problem, she'd learned well and good on Christmas morning 2019 not to step into their bedroom if the door was shut. No, Violet was the problem. Never one much for barking, what the Carsons came to realize after a couple attempts at love making after Becky and Violet's arrival was that Elsie had grown "moanier" over the course of their marriage — and it caught Violet's ears.
Charles wasn't about to stop pleasing his wife, nor was Elsie interested in that either; again, the Carsons were still newlyweds after all. So Charles ordered a sound machine — for Violet —whilst telling Becky it was for her. It was supposed to be from Father Christmas but arrived late. He'd set it up in Becky and Violet's room when it was delivered hoping all would be again well. Cautiously, the Carsons made love that night and more easily three more times since, including this morning, their second anniversary, technically the end of their being newlyweds.
During breakfast just today, Charles and Elsie were briefly and awkwardly were pulled back to their whispered mid-December problem solving conversations about how to muzzle Elsie's copulatory vocalization.
What they didn't know is that a year plus ago, just after she'd started hospice, Martha had beckoned Beryl Mason to her bedside and slipped her a wad of notes she'd been accumulating for some time in card game wagering at Times of Endearment. She insisted that Beryl carry out her wish of Elsie and Charles receiving flowers on their future anniversaries. So this morning's floral delivery was accompanied by a note that Elsie read aloud when she was finished eating. The card said simply, Mazel Tov.
"What's muzzle talk?" Becky had asked hearing Elsie incorrectly. Hot coffee shot up through Charles' nostrils punctuating his shock and dismay at the question after he and his bride had enjoyed a post-coital cuddle not an hour prior.
"OK, time for bed you two. All those loose bits will still be there in the morning."
Elsie had just stepped out of their bedroom prompting Charles to look up at the sight of his wife in his flannel pyjama top and woolen socks. Becky was in her velvety violet-colored loungewear since her shower between dinner and the anniversary pudding she'd baked with Charles earlier in the day. Indeed, baking was another thing that had further bonded the brother- and sister-in-law; Becky loved it and Charles was finding he enjoyed it too; the precision in measurement, temperature and procedure was right in his wheelhouse.
Arms crossed, Elsie urged after her sister hadn't budged, "Come along, Becks."
"Oh alright, don't get your knickers in a knot, Els," Becky replied as she pushed herself up and away. That was about as much sass as Becky would dish out, for she knew that was about as much as Elsie would take.
Becky hugged Charles who returned the squeeze with a peck on her forehead. "Sweet dreams Becky. Uh, don't forget to turn on your sound machine," Charles cleared his through, a small bit of discomfort knowing what he was hinting at with the request.
"I won't," Becky confirmed as she and Violet shuffled toward their bedroom. Elsie just shook her head at the two of them, her sister and husband, before she tucked Becky in and said goodnight.
On her way from one bedroom door to the other, Elsie turned, surprised that Charles was still in the kitchen. "What's keeping you, my Housekeeper Husband?" He was filling two flutes. They'd received them from the Granthams for Christmas, along with best wishes for 2021, and a bottle of Veuve Cliquot they'd opened on New Year's Eve and finished off in Mimosas over brunch the next morning. Charles handed her both glasses, tonight with Prosecco, to carry into the bedroom as he used the loo. "No sherry? No Margaux?"
"Not tonight, love."
"That goes for other things, too, Charlie. Not tonight."
"No?"
"No."
"Oh," he sighed, as Elsie spun on her heel heading into their bedroom.
A few minutes later, Charles entered their bedroom to find Elsie leaning against the headboard. Still a bit chagrinned about Elsie's preemptiveness, he asked about something else that was a guarantee, "How are they?"
After Elsie had begged him not to procure any more jewelry, they'd agreed to gift one another new bed linens for their anniversary. "You're continually getting better with the corners," she acknowledged with a wink.
Charles rolled his eyes at her reply, clarifying "That's not exactly what I meant," as he began to undress. He had washed and dried the linens earlier today for the first time before making the bed.
"Come see for yourself." Elsie pat his side of the bed then as she watched her husband balance on either leg to remove his socks tossing them in the hamper, then pulled his jumper over his head, unbuttoning and removing his shirt before unzipping his trousers and letting them slide down his muscular but pale legs. She shivered a bit as she watched his shorts jiggled during this last part and especially as he walked around to his side of the bed. He stood there momentarily, handing her one glass of bubbly she'd left on his nightstand.
"Here you go love, cheers."
"Thank you, Charlie."
Careful not to spill on their new linens — undoubtedly the reason he'd opted for the Prosecco tonight — Elsie put her book down then turned to her husband as he extended his legs beside hers under the covers. "Happy second anniversary once more, my darling." She leaned in for a kiss which he gladly returned before each took a sip from their respective glass. Things could be a lot worse than a kiss, cuddle and Prosecco Charles thought as he studied the bubbles rising in his glass before lifting it to his lips once more.
Elsie took a second sip before offering, "Finish this for me."
He wasn't expecting that. "You aren't pregnant are you?" Of course she wasn't. It was just a little joke of theirs, rehearsed many times over.
"Daft man, no. The stuff makes me wee like a racehorse. I'm hoping to get a good night's rest," Elsie explained as she reached over and turned off her light. Elsie's mention of rest was final confirmation of no sex indeed. And so Charles swigged back both his and hers glasses before turning his light off as well. As he slithered down to make himself comfortable, Elsie crept closer.
He hissed, "Good God Elsie, how is it that you can sit beside a fire all evening and still have feet as cold as you do?"
"Shush, you should be used to them by now, it's been two winters we've been sleeping together."
"True, it's just your feet being cold winter, summer, spring and autumn that I still don't understand."
"Because you're a furnace my feet feel cold. And you knew what you were getting yourself into; for richer, for poorer…"
"You're a funny one, my Ms. Hughes."
"I am, with many thanks to you my Mr. Carson. So, what do you think of the linens?"
Charles thought a moment. "They're soft, comfortable, certainly fit like a dream."
"Hmmm, sounds a bit like my husband."
"Your adoring husband."
"My adored and adoring husband. Soft," Elsie tickled Charles' pandemic beard on his chin just then. "Comfortable," with that she moved her arm under the covers, snaking her hand under his vest where her fingertips came to rest on the handful of hairs on his belly. "Fits like a dream," Elsie cuddled closer then, her icy right foot finding its regular home cradled between Charles' two warm inner calves, her left toes wedged between his right outer calf and the mattress. Charles wrapped his arm around Elsie's shoulder pulling his wife closer as the cold tip of her nose inhaled the scent of her husband beneath the shoulder of his vest.
"Night Charlie, I love you."
"And you my love, happy anniversary."
