Written as a result of a sentence prompt challenge on tumblr; this one specifically was prompted by Spanishinfluenza.
This fic is not beta-read. I don't have a beta reader currently and never quite beta my drabbles as they are a sit down and go thing for me personally. Spelling errors might occur, though I try not to make them.
Trigger warning(s): None apply
This fanfiction is cross-posted from my AO3 account, where it was originally published on April 8th 2021
Esme and Carlisle are out for a late night walk, they're passing through streets on the edge of town which are mostly abandoned. It's dead-quiet outside and knowing that no one will be out at this hour -let alone for the fact that it is snowing and the wind is unforgivingly cold- they've forsaken pretence and left their coats at home.
They're in the middle of discussing the house she's renovating a few towns over when Esme's voice trails off, diminished into nothing. She turns on the spot, eyes searching her surroundings.
She hears it first, the soft and panicked mewling of what is undoubtedly a kitten. Her steps increase in speed and he follows hastily, picking up on the sound now as well. Her eyes remain a golden hue, both of them having fed mere hours ago.
"Esme? t'is but a cat. This is a big city, cats go outside, you know?"
She nods but then turns to face him, there's a fire in her eyes and she's worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. After a while they keep walking and then it clicks, she's feeling maternal. He won't deny that the cat does sound stressed and he doesn't blame her for wanting to help. Though, they do not have the best reputation around when it comes to animals.
Esme halts at a wire fence, a rusted sign indicating that what lies beyond is private property and threatening prosecution. Her eyes are still wide, focussed on the scent trail that continues beyond their reach.
Her hands are against the wires and he recognizes her stance, halting her with one hand on her shoulder.
"Es, my love, we could get arrested for this."
She waits until he removes his hand and ignores his previous comment, looking left and right to double check if they're still alone before jumping up and hauling herself over the fence. When she comes down there isn't so much as a scratch on her.
"Well, you don't have to follow me."
She is right, but he can not help himself. He shakes his head and hauls himself up after her, feeling particularly protective as she trots off down the lot. He trails after her, she seems to know where to head so he lets her lead, keeping a fair amount of distance between them so he can keep an eye on both her and their shared surroundings.
In a hanger at the far end of the property is where she finally comes upon her treasure. Hidden behind a stack of crates and other loose items of no importance she finds it.
A stray gray kitten, tangled in barbed wire, looking starved and like it is freezing to death. The mewling ceases as green eyes meet gold and Carlisle is almost concerned the animal might entangle itself further when it might crawl away in fear of the predators in front of him.
Yet, it does not panic when Esme comes closer to it, even though it should clearly be unsettled by her presence. It is their predator-aura that unnerves animals and humans alike, their instincts telling them something is awry and yet, the kitten does not protest. It simply continues to mew weakly as Esme moves to break the barbed wire appart.
He takes a moment to observe the kitten in question. It's fur is a light shade gray but is matted with grease and other dirt, making it seem darker than it is. Its right ear is torn, the left is missing the top half. It's smaller than it should be and he can just about make out the ribs underneath it's long tangled fur.
Esme apologizes profusely to this kitten in the softest and most maternal voice he's ever heard her speak in when a piece of wire violently curls backward and pokes the kitten in its side.
He can smell it as well as she can, the trickle of freshly drawn blood. Esme hisses, not in aggression but in discontent.
When she finally frees it she is quick to wrap it in her arms, cradling it's small and wounded body, checking him over instinctively. She looks heartbroken at the sight of it.
"It's so brave," she mutters, and she is right. It doesn't try to run, crawl out of her arms or fight her off. It doesn't even look petrified like any other animal should be as she pokes and prods it gently and with all the care in the world.
"What do you want to do? The shelter's closed for the weekend."
She looks thoughtful for a moment, frowning. "We could take it in? It doesn't seem afraid of us. We could at least give it some warmth and food-"
They move home quickly, their speed wiping their footsteps from the snow by the sheer force of wind. Esme laughs lightly as she sprints beside him, "see, we weren't arrested."
Carlisle nearly falters and laughs, "you are positively incorrigible."
Their laughter dies down and they make fast work of their trip home. Arriving, they find their current residence more barren than when they had initially left it, a note on the kitchen counter informing them that the others have gone out to hunt.
Considering the wound Esme had accidentally been the cause of no less than half an hour ago they are both equally thankful for this. They do not question their children's self-control but the less temptation the better.
"Could you see if there's anything edible for this one in the fridge?"
They don't need to eat but to keep pretence, they still shop for groceries just as everyone else does. To prevent things from spoiling they store it as is normal before one of them makes a trip out of town to donate to a homeless shelter or something of the like.
Carlisle moves about the kitchen as Esme searches her fuzzy human memories for something she knows is there. She's muttering something along the lines of having grown up on a farm and therefore having to know at least the basics of cat-care but she can not remember the stray cat that resided in her father's barn for the life of her.
So, she does what feels right to do.
She looks him all over, moves to the bathroom and washes him, untangling his fur with all the patience in the world. She washes his wounds clean with water and calls Carlisle over to have a look at him too. He may not be a veterinarian but he knows his way around a scratch or two. The kitten in question is rather lucky, the wounds sustained aren't deep and will most likely heal just fine without much interference.
Carlisle presses a kiss to Esme's hair before he departs, continuing his initial task and leaving Esme to take care of and nurse her find. After a while he hears the quiet padding of her socked feet against the hallway floor as she moves into his study; which doubles as their sitting room.
It is a space for just them, decorated warmly and while Carlisle uses it as his office all the same, Esme can be found there more often than not. She'll be seated in her trusty rocking chair near the fireplace, reading or sketching.
When he finishes up, he moves up to the study in question. There he finds Esme curled up in the rocking chair, the kitten swaddled up in blankets, purring away in her lap; entirely too content at the situation.
Carlisle mutely observes, leaning against the doorframe. Occasionally Esme's chest will rise and fall, a habit she still refuses to let go even after decades of not having needed to breathe. So near the warmth of the fire, she appears much more human, her skin glowing warmly in the light.
She's resting her eyes so to draw her attention he speaks softly, a smile evident from the way he speaks, "you're not giving him up, are you?"
Esme continues to lazily scratch the kitten behind his torn ear, "I don't think I have the heart to."
He laughs warmly, coming over and kneeling beside her to get a good look at the kitten now that he's clean and warm, "then I suppose you better start thinking of a name for the newest Cullen."
Honestly, there's so many things in here that I've talked about with Spanishinfluenza like the rocking chair's significance, and today as well: the cat. I have many headcanons for him but right now I'm too tired to get into it. Maybe some day-
As always, any comments, kudos and thoughts would be welcome, they motivate greatly! Hope you enjoyed this! If you want to support me, there is links to where you can on the pinned post on my tumblr profile. My tumblr is Meluisart, so feel free to hit me up there, drop me a request if it strikes you fancy!