If you're not a fan of swearing: I suggest avoiding this rather brilliant chapter. It has brought me great joy. Thank you for your lovely reviews! Please R&R

What I'm sickened by most when I awake early Wednesday morning is the complete absence of sickness. There's no sickness, I am perfectly well to catch up on all the responsibilities I've avoided, I am no longer sick. Yet the sickness is replaced with an unusual ache. It doesn't hurt, in fact, it causes little trouble initially until I realise it's there and the moment I notice it, I feel like it makes the ache worse. It's like an excited burn fluttering painlessly everywhere at once while being nowhere. It consumes my body, my attention and for a while, I wonder if I should take paracetamol?

I roll my head to the side, unalarmed by the sleeping form resting on my left shoulder. The sunlight is seeping through my open curtains, a light morning breeze light on his reddened cheeks. He's soundless as he sleeps, too enraptured by his exhaustion to bare noise to the soft breathing on his lips. The cologne that usually tickles my nose is sweet and strong, working its way from his hair, past his muscled shoulders and slipping to where the blanket is pulled over our legs.

His heart beats, his slight torso expanding because of it as his hair tumbles onto the pillow, falling in thick strands close to my face. It takes longer than I care to admit to remind myself that I'm not only naked too, but on a similar display. I'm unusually sprawled on my back, my hands close to my face as he leans on me, turned away. He's not facing my bare breasts and I wonder his reaction if he realised.

I softly drag my fingers down his right cheek, smiling when he flinches and doing anything I can to soak in the feel of his smooth skin resting so comfortably on me. The sting of his addictive perfume only worsens by my touch. He's soft, his skin perfect against my own but weighted as I try to sustain him a little longer. Even now, I can't bear to waste his presence.

From this angle, with a smile biting my lips, it's easy to forget about the ache. I ignore a few more responsibilities for an extra half an hour, I busy myself with staring at him, familiarising myself with his delicate frown and a few hidden freckles before pulling myself away and gently kissing his forehead. He doesn't notice, just like he hasn't noticed my nudity, or his, instead he lets his head roll back with his neck elongating, his torso leading down.

I dress as quietly as possible, pulling on jeans and a t-shirt before grabbing my books into a bag and making my way to class. The moment my foot passes the front door, the ache returns and I have a quick urge to just turn around and stay indoors.

Lessons drag by far quicker than I would've liked. It takes ages and because I've missed so many lessons in two days, I spend a lot of time at the library, forcing myself to catch up. I should be going into work. I should be doing so many billions of things but I'm still tired.

So I go to work. But not the coffee shop, I go to the nursery to do a quick shift, finishing by mid-afternoon when my phone buzzes.

I'm feeling surprisingly better so I've come into work. Earlier Norovirus assumptions may be incorrect as the Walderman's are perfectly well. Please don't forget your stitches xxxx

While I'm not necessarily pleased he's back at work, I can understand his thinking. Especially if he's spoken with Doctor Maddison. One main responsibility is left for me to do. I've got to do it.

My hands shake uncontrollably when I get my hands on the wheel of the car and I have to wait until I've got a voice to start up the engine again. The coffee house building suddenly looks like a factory with the letters heavy in both of my hands. No one important is working on the front and even if they were, I doubt they'd really care. One guy asks me if I'm feeling better but my voice is gone from my throat so I just shake my head in case a scream comes out.

'You looking for the boss?'

I nod, waving Carlisle's note around.

'Hard luck, Es.'

'Why?' I ask, wearily.

'Two week holiday to Majorca. Stress or something?' Dan quickly returns to counting out the till, his dark hair slipping past his face into the loose bun behind his neck.

'Majorca?!' Majorca?! Could this day get better?! 'He's on holiday?'

'That is what I said?' He confirms, looking oddly at me.

'Well what about Tilly? Where is she?'

'Tilly?! Jesus, girl has no one phoned you? She's been suspended.'

'Suspended?!' I repeat, the joy taking over my throat.

'Yeah. She attacked someone on a night out, apparently. Nothing major but you know what our Police are like.'

'Yeah.' I agree, monotonously. Nothing major and yet such words couldn't bring me greater joy. 'When is she coming back?'

'No idea. The police are reluctant apparently. They think she's a risk to the public.'

I have to tell Carlisle. I have to phone him immediately.

'Right, thanks Dan.'

Both letters I leave on the dreaded desk, sitting up in the keyboard where they'll go unnoticed. I've done my part, I've 'notified' them. Not my problem if he's not here to read it.

I'm meant to be working tomorrow and Friday and though part of me is still warning against it, it's the last chance to save a little more while I can. Besides, what does it matter? No one's going to bother me? My luck is turning up.

I try to tell myself that Carlisle isn't the only reason I'm rushing to the hospital but that strange feeling in my chest seems to want to disagree. My hands are still shaking, my knees twitching nervously as I make my way to the front desk. But sitting down is harder than you think when words just need to be freed from my mouth.

As he's turning the corner, he spots me and with a tired expression, gives me the closest thing to his genuine grin that I've seen in a few days. He nudges his head, quietly encouraging me to follow him, his suit pristine and his doctor's jacket hanging from him as he crosses his arms around his back.

'How are you feeling?' I ask behind his shoulder. He's quiet for the moment but I don't know if that's because he's tired, ill or nervous as to being spotted by a co-worker. I presume the first one because he's making no effort at hiding us.

'I ache a little.' He admits, lifting a shoulder.

'Me, too.'

Though for someone who aches, I don't blame him for not believing me. His sweet frown comes into play as he reads my grin, his own lips copying though he's not sure why. He's leading me to a cubicle, I presume, his hands close to where I'm leaning towards him but he's being strict with himself and refuses to greet me.

'Are you sure you should be at work?' I push, keeping my voice low but he chuckles and nods his head.

'They needed me.'

'And you need rest.'

'I'm better.' He promises quickly, turning so that I can see the ocean orbs of sincerity. 'Honestly, I'm much better. Just a bit of a headache and stuff.'

'Did you run to work?'

He looks guilty. 'Yes.'

'Carlisle! You know better than that.'

'I know but you need my car later and I'm still not sure what time I'll finish. There's hardly anyone in today, Maddison called me in a panic.'

I look around myself to the busy floor. I hadn't even noticed the multitude of patients or even the lack of staff. People are being rushed off their feet, patients are getting irritable and even though I'm sure Carlisle is telling the truth in that he's better, I know he's also not right.

'Well just let me know and I'll pick you up, okay? Or even drop your car off?'

He shakes his head. 'You don't need to do that, Hon, its been offered already.' He stops outside a cubicle and waves me in quickly, his eyes still stuck on my face as I beam at him.

As expected, he gets to work quickly, snapping on gloves and grabbing a trolley from close by. He swivels behind me, patting the seat of the bed to get me to sit before shining a lamp right on my scalp.

'Very thorough today, Doctor Cullen.'

'Sorry…' he murmurs quietly. 'We're just so busy today that it's easier for me to, no offence, get you on your way.'

'Of course.' I agree. He leans to look at me properly to where I grin at him.

'You took that surprisingly well?'

'I have news.' I interrupt, excitedly. He's delicate as he sections my hair off, apologising quietly when he soaks my scalp in saline and gently numbing the area before pulling metal out of my head.

'Do tell?'

'Tilly's been suspended!'

'Suspended?' He repeats, widening the eyes.

'Yep! Charlie doesn't want her working with the public. Isn't it great?!'

He nods, a little less enthusiastic than me as he supports my excitement. My rambling takes speed.

'It's just fantastic timing because it gives me chance to get a head start on applying for a few other jobs. I mean, I already saw that advert about a school assistant which would really fit with my hours at university-'

He's not grinning as widely as I want him to.

'It gets better though?' I say, hoping to entice him in. He smiles and nods away. 'My boss is on holiday! I have two weeks to get prepared before I really do descend into poverty, isn't that brilliant?! I don't even have to see him.'

I feel his hands stop moving and when I look up, I find he's looking quite perturbed. His mouth is a line, the frown evident though he's trying to hide it and even when I have my legs shaking away, he can't share the feeling.

'You're going back?' He asks quietly.

'I've got no reason not to?'

'Es…'

'I haven't even got a stupid amounts of shifts but I suspect I could probably total them up, maybe do some overtime?'

'Why?'

'Why?' I repeat. 'What do you mean why? So I can look for something else?'

'Why are you going back?' He asks, still remaining quiet. He's busying his hands again and for once I feel like he's doing it to make him feel better rather than me.

'Because I have to?' I say easily.

'You can quit on the spot.'

'It's not worth the hassle.' I refute, watching him fight hard not to seem miserable. 'Why are you so against this?'

'It's dangerous.'

'So is driving, but I do that every day?' He's not impressed with the humour at the moment and the blue eyes flash to me completely void of any words. I breathe in. 'It's only going to be two weeks? One and a half considering it's Wednesday. It'll be over before you know it.'

'And what if he comes back?'

'He's in a different country, it's not exactly an easy hop back and why would he? I'm not going to offer much, am I?'

'You know this for sure?' The tone of his apprehension proves that there's nothing I will be able to say that'll soothe him.

'I haven't exactly checked the airlines but why lie?'

'Because it will lull you into a false sense of security.' He answers sharply. 'Because your boss is a sick bastard!'

'Carlisle?'

'What?' He snaps but his eyes close and he regrettably shakes his head. 'You're right...I'm sorry…'

'I'm going to be fine. I'm going to be so busy trashing the place, I won't even have time to make coffee.'

Again, he's not finding the comment funny.

'Please trust me?' I beg, offering another simple grin.

'It's not you I don't trust.' He answers, stepping away to place his wrist to his forehead. 'I didn't mean to take it out on you.'

'You haven't.'

'I'm just grouchy.' He excuses, refocusing back to my head and fighting hard to ignore his instincts.

'In that case, the moment you're home I'll run you a bubble bath?'

'I'm all done.' His sweet smile lightens, his laughter soft and brilliant. He steps away to take off the gloves, the purple bags under his eyes seeming more prominent under the lamp before he shuts it off. He really does need sleep but then so do I.

'Thank you.' I say, grinning widely at him. He delicately touches my chin with his cold hands, tearing his eyes away from my mouth. 'How much trouble will you be in for kissing me?'

'A lot.' He complains.

'We'd better be quick then.'

He hesitates, wanting to protest as he looks over to the curtain but I quickly lay a hand along his cheek and wrench his mouth to mine. Its fair to say he needs it more than it seems. His eyes close, his mouth relaxing around mine as he tries to hold onto the moment. The ache in my chest returns to the fire that makes my stomach flip and though I'd give anything to kiss him for the rest of the day, it's not possible.

'Thank you.'

'You don't need to thank me, Carlisle?'

He shrugs, his shoulder coming up slightly as he softens his gaze on me 'No, but I like to…'

'I really do wish you'd stayed at home. You are grumpy…'

He grimaces again, trying to fight off my worries with his charming smile but his lips aren't quite up to their full potential. Though I'm hoping he'll be better after a coffee or two. I lean towards him to kiss him again but the curtain squeaks behind us and though he doesn't need to jump on account of looking innocent, I feel my cheeks blush.

'Needed in cubicle six, Doctor Cullen.'

He nods, raising his clipboard as if to ask for a few minutes and raises an eyebrow at me.

'Alright, I'm going.'

'I'll miss you.' He says teasingly but I deliberately don't look back, I stalk out of there just when I know he's watching me.

The missed appointment with Doctor Browning is almost not worth rescheduling. Annoyingly enough she's as confused as Carlisle by my decision to stick out the coffee shop but doesn't try and persuade me against it. At the end of the day, it's down to my contract and I can't fix that. She tries to talk a little about my family this time but the conversation grows stunted and soon enough it slows to a point where I think we're going to call it quits.

'You asked for help last session?' She reminds me, swinging her foot up in a bounce as she watches me.

'I've dropped that off now, though so I don't think I'll need any more?'

'You're not letting me finish.' She accuses, eyes brought down. I groan and wave my hand around. 'As I was saying you asked for my help last session-.'

'But it's done, I handed in my notice. I'm fine.'

'I want you to book another appointment.'

Unconsciously, I retract from her, my frown heavy and the ache in my chest reminding myself that perhaps I should listen to her inner-knowledge and let her talk. My hands twist awkwardly.

'Why?'

'Because I feel like you need one. You're still very dismissive, Esme.'

'I am also not a child.' I retort, standing my ground or rather, slinking into my seat like my back is now snakeskin.

'Sometimes I feel like we're on the cusp of realisation and then you say something which brings you straight back to square one.'

My eyes harden. I lean up towards her rather than away as if prepared to barricade myself with a fort or something. My hands are too warm for my liking and even though he's feeling worse, I'm jealous that Carlisle is so busy he can't spare a moment's thought to anything as trivial as this.

'Are you trying to offend me?'

'No.' She replies honestly. 'But the fact you've taken offence is telling.'

'I haven't taken offence.' I say, my voice stiff. She smirks, looking away as if she can't be bothered to fight with me.

'It's a great quality that you listen. Even when it seems like you aren't.' She pauses, hands clasped together as she leans towards me. 'But sometimes you need to talk just as much.'

That evening I spend over at the Walderman's. Carlisle still hasn't messaged me so it can be assumed he's still working and because of it, I manage to spend a few moments with Sarah, sat on her bed doing her daughter's make-up.

'Everyone's got their problems.' Sarah tells me, a hand settling close to my shoulder. I scrub at my forehead and with a smile, remind Serena not to fidget.

'But do they always need to be defined?' I argue, trying not to let the thought settle too deeply. Sarah smiles delicately, sipping at her drink while listening out to the boys downstairs. We've been sectioned up here since I turned up. The eleven year old wants to surprise them.

'To overcome them, yes.' Sarah pauses, watching me focus on brushing a light colour along Serena's cheeks. She giggles delicately, excited and singing along to the TV behind me. 'I think it's less about mysteries and more about communication.'

'I guess.' I say, looking anywhere that isn't her eyes.

'Sweet, I don't know what's got you so concerned?'

'It's not concern, it's…confusion. I don't quite see why it's such a mode of contention.'

'For security. If you don't talk about things then how on Earth do you get to know someone?' She shakes her head so that her hair slips and then leads forward pointing to the palette in my hand. 'Ooh that's a nice colour, I like how you've used it.'

'Thank you.'

She inhales, reaching across again to get me to look at her. 'Whatever Alice has said-.'

'It's not Alice.' I sigh, gently. 'It's not anyone, I'm just thinking.'

'About?' She probes.

'About families…' I reply, amazed at my honesty. 'I don't understand why there's this big effort to tie yourself to a blood-relative, to make the effort to get to know them when-… when they're not good people.'

'Is this about your family?' She asks and I shake my head. 'Carlisle's?'

I hesitate, I don't want to answer her, I don't want to think about it but I did bring it in the first place though I can't exactly remember how. Pathetically, I attempt to shake my head but she laughs and touches my arm.

'How did you know?' I ask.

'Please, Honey. We don't live under a rock. Pastor Cullen has been causing issues for that poor boy since the moment he moved here. Every sermon is packed with it.'

'Exactly. He spends every moment of his air-time tearing him down. Why is Carlisle suddenly trusting him?'

'Forgiveness is a blessing?'

'But he could get hurt.' I argue, surprised once again how easily I've slipped into this sudden conversation. She seems surprised too, because she asks Serena to fetch her something unimportant from the kitchen and takes my hands in hers.

'What's brought this on?'

'Nothing…' I say idly.

'Esme?'

I think about the ache in my chest, the burn and the devastation that came just from leaving him this morning. The way he says my name, the shape of his smile, his shy blush… and I'm overcome with unexplainable fury when I think about the harm that could come about just because some asshole has got a bee in his bonnet because his son has hormones.

'What about if this mode of communication is just a ploy to brainwash him?' I worry.

'Do you honestly think Carlisle is the sort to be easily swayed?' She fights, her lipstick smile spreading wider.

'No… but you've already said he spends his sermons criticising him. What is he going to do in front of a bigger audience? Especially when Carlisle's reputation is on the line?'

'Sometimes silence is more deadly. Everybody adores Carlisle, look at how many awards he's been given for his charity. Everybody praises him. Now look at his father. He talks incessantly, far too much and he's got enemies because of it.'

'So communication is a problem then?' I decide. 'If you can talk too much then to maintain harmony you need-'

Serena comes running through the door, waving a bottle of water in her mother's face as she cuddles into her.

'You need balance.' Sarah finishes. 'But that's in everyday life. That's with people you meet on the streets, neighbours even. Not your friends or your family.'

'Right.' I say softly.

'Sweet, look at it this way. You love Alice because you know everything about her. It's what makes you close and the things that you know about her could easily create an enemy out of someone else but not you. You love her.'

'I don't understand?' I admit, pushing my fringe up. Sarah smiles wider.

'The reason why Pastor Cullen has enemies is because he talks too much and out his-' she looks at Serena and then covers her ears to mouth the word 'ass' at me. 'Look at Carlisle. Do you think you guys would be such good friends had you not spoken?'

'But isn't that silence also safe? If we told each other everything then there'd be room for judgement, right?'

'No.'

'No?' I repeat.

'Not from your friends, surely. They're going to support you if that's exactly what you need. They might do it in unconventional methods but judgement is void.'

'So talking is necessary?'

'Absolutely.' She agrees. 'Anytime you worry about that just think about Alice, okay? No judgement just support. All which stems from talking.'

I don't want to say the words so I just nod my head, my hair slipping behind my shoulder. Alice is not someone I was thinking about, even with the earrings but suddenly hearing her name makes me feel even worse. That ache in my chest not able to settle while I'm thinking about the two of us frayed somewhat all because of one man in question.

A man who has my head in knots.

To some extent, my friendship with Alice is based on judgment. Emmett's, too. Maybe it was the judgement tied into the undeniable support. For example, her shocking lingerie choices. I might hate them but I support her. Could I honestly say she supported me? How many times had she been there to buy condoms with me after begging me not to sleep with someone? Billions. How many times has she complained about Carlisle in the last week, despite practically idolising him months before? Don't you find it annoying how many girls throw themselves at him? Urgh, don't you just hate how dedicated he is sometimes? Man, must be awful living with someone who is obsessed with being a good person...

There are no numbers for such a figure.

Carlisle...

Getting to know him can be one of the most thrilling and daunting things. Listening to him is easy. I asked if we are a thing because it's a question I don't want to answer myself. Selfishly, I'd rather hear his response but equally, I want him to want to know. I want that communication but I don't want him to be hurt from it. Exactly like he is with his moron father.

Why is this suddenly getting to me? After three weeks why has something this ridiculous started to take over my thinking? And why the heck does my chest hurt every time I think of him being hurt?!

For the next hour or so, Serena, thankfully, is so excited she takes all of the attention as she bounds with joy from one person to the next, dancing about to the Television as her mother and I try to fix her hair.

We fix her dress, play silly dance music, about to descend the stairs when Carlisle phones me.

'Not too late, am I?'

'Course not, we've got five minutes yet.'

'Fantastic. Let me just change my shirt and I'll pop round.'

Serena is stunningly sweet in her blue and gold dress and it suits her hair in a way that is unbearably cute. I send a photo to Alice, commend them both on their choice and watch from the side-lines as Sarah presents her to her father.

Mark has his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the door frame as if he's irritated. Johnathan is at his feet and though he pretends to be dismissive of her, the moment she appears in his sight, an accidental smile breaks as he watches her so proudly that I stay silent for the moment.

Despite her height, with a bit of effort, he cuddles her into his arms, reminding her how beautiful she is and returning the same compliment to her mother's features. It's sweet, very sweet and for just a moment I feel a strange surge of jealousy bite through me. Not just on the sake of father-to-daughter. That was something I should've been over a long time ago, rather the look of pride on Sarah's face as she photographs the three of them together.

I offer to take a few of them as a family, avoiding staring at the blissful joy in their grins from one parent to another because it's a private moment.

The door goes then and as I open it to reveal one hot-as-hell saint, he holds out his hand to drop the keys to me.

'All yours.'

'Aren't we due a second lesson? I haven't even done manoeuvres yet?' I say playfully, trying to smile in a particularly sweet way but he seems surprised.

'You'd like me to come with?'

'Obviously!' I remind him. I half pull him indoors, too so that he's not stood outside while looking that good. 'You've got to tell me what you think.'

He greets the family as he steps over the baby gate and waits for Serena to perform a little twirl in her get up.

'Well aren't you looking lovely.' He compliments her. She beams looking up to her mother who's touching her cheek and soon, Mark offers a tough apology for his indulgence the other day.

'Big promotion, you see…' He explains, embarrassed with a hand at his neck.

'A congratulations is in order then?'

I think Sarah cracks a wise joke at her husband's expense and after a few more (thousand) photos, Serena bids them goodbye and jumps into the backseat of Carlisle's flashy car. Her parents remind her to be careful, she tells them she loves them and touching her phone, she agrees to wait for them at the end of the party.

Though I both offered and caused the excitement over the vehicle, Carlisle offers to drive and for ease, I give in. He's talking softly to her, making conversation about her homework before stopping outside her school.

'I'll be right back.' I promise, kissing him hastily on the cheek before unbuckling my seatbelt.

The car got the kid the attention she wanted and her smug smile triples when she sees her school friends staring. I take a hold of her hand as I walk her across to the hall, adding to Carlisle's conversation but she interrupts me mid-babble.

'Why did you do that?'

'Do what?' I ask, confused.

'You kissed Carlisle?'

Considering she was so excited to tell me about her first kiss the other day, I don't really know how to respond to this apart from blush, hate myself for the over display and remind myself not to do it again.

'Did I kiss him?' I ask, feigning confusion but she's not easily fooled and my voice is unnaturally high.

'On the cheek.' She reminds me. 'Just like how Mom kisses Dad…'

'Oh.'

'Why?' She asks and I clutch at the lump in my throat.

'Manners?' I guess.

'You've never been bothered by manners before?'

'I have.' I fight, dismally. 'It's just different when you're…err… it was nothing, just… habit?'

'You're not planning to have a baby are you?'

'What? Serena, of course not! It was-' Oh, Jesus H Christ, I forgot how the simplest of things became unimaginable to a kid. 'No. Nothing like that.'

'Why kiss him then?'

'Why did you kiss your friend the other day?'

She thinks for a moment before shrugging. 'So he would buy me stuff…'

'Well…' I swallow. 'Carlisle owes me rent. I was charging him.'

'Rent?' she repeats, confused and my brain has managed to throw itself into self-destruction since the short walk from car to door.

'I'll explain another time.' I murmur, bending slightly to her height and twirling her hair. 'For now, enjoy yourself. Ring your mom if you need to and don't forget to tell me all about it when I next see you.'

'Thank you.' She whispers, giggling. A few of her friends are calling her over, pointing and eager to talk to her. She leans towards me, sneakily. 'I think they liked the car.'

'I think so, too.'

'Thanks for my hair, too, Esme.'

'It's no problem, Sweet. Have a lovely time.' She hugs me tightly around the waist before running off into the hall, passing teachers on the way and once I'm sure she's safe, I slowly wander back to the heaven that is Doctor Cullen's car.

Surprisingly he's sat in the passenger seat and when I stare at him, waiting for him to change my mind he nods towards the steering wheel.

'Sure?' I ask.

'Of course! I love it when you drive.'

'That better not be sarcasm.' I warn him, buckling myself in and arranging the seat and mirrors. He's got a smirk on his mouth, a mischievous one and though I want to know what it means, I also want to stare at him a little longer.

'It's not sarcasm.'

'It's not something worse is it? You're not actually telling me you're in love with your car?'

'No.' He says quietly and I might as well be hearing it as a question it's so unsure. 'But like I said, I do have a bit of a thing for a Mercedes…'

He waits until I've got my eyes on him to wink and it sends such a jolt through me that the burning desire in my chest inflames my core. If he's suggesting sex in his car, there's no way I'm going to be able to drive back. I'm going to be far too busy getting myself off in his seat, one hand around that gearstick.

I blame him wholeheartedly for throwing me off, even when he's quiet and once I've phoned the Walderman's, I land a shaky hand on the head of the gearstick.

'You can do it?'

'Shut up, Cullen.' Or I really am going to dampen these seats I swear. Eurgh for the love of God, he is unbelievable… He chuckles softly, keeping quiet as he watches me force his car into gear using the same manner he did and if he wasn't so respectful, I'd demand him to get his cock out so I could provide a hand job at the same time.

This would be the sort of remark to have him telling me off so I shut my mouth and drive home in silence.

We do everything quietly once we get in. We eat almost in silence, sharing shy glances and little else. Even when Edward tries to make conversation, there's nothing I can find to say to him which isn't along the lines of 'Leave.'

Cullen tries to study for a bit. In fact he probably succeeds but my head is so wound up all of a sudden that I couldn't give a shit about offering to run him a bath unless I am specifically invited. I don't know for whom it is luckier when he changes his mind.

'You're sure you don't want me to run you a bath? I really don't mind?' I offer for the third time and I think he knows that the raging hormones are so desperate to see him naked right now that I'd give him anything he could possibly desire.

'I'll have a shower later…' he says and it's enough of a suggestion to make my pupils dilate.

I unconsciously tighten my legs together. 'What about now?'

'Now?' He asks, feigning innocence. 'I'm not sure. Did you have something in mind?'

My heart is painful in my chest, thudding excitedly as he circles around my seat on the sofa. He stands behind me, furniture coming up his torso while my fingers rest on the pulse beneath my breast. My breath is so heavy, hot as well and though I swallow thickly I think he can just tell I'm wound up so completely by the teasing, that I really don't know what I want to do.

He leans over the back of my seat, lips to me ear with his chilling breath pointed down my neck.

'Come to bed?'

I swallow again, thick saliva coming down my throat because I'm not the kind of girl to spit and he knows it. Holy shit is this happening?! Are we about to have sex?!

'Now?' I ask, breathily. He puts his lips to the side of my neck, hushing my violent shudder with a delicate movement of his mouth.

'If you'd like?'

I lower my chin in a stunned nod, not really knowing how to move with my greed to swamp him. He chuckles, kissing my forehead before slinking away behind me so that I'm stranded in the dark, panting and very slightly afraid.

The ten minutes I asked for the other week prove to be far too optimistic and though I'm panicked he's going to get bored of waiting, I spend twenty minutes in the bathroom soaking myself in every perfume known to man and shaving the most of my body hair. My actual hair is infuriating. I put it in a plait. In a ponytail. I leave it down. I tie up my fringe before eventually settling for something in-between with the top half worked into a bun leaving the lower curls loose and hanging over my chest.

Pyjamas might be an option but I have no idea what he's expecting and I don't want to go in their wearing lingerie in case we frighten each other and he's not ready for that. But jeans and a T-shirt seems far too casual. I should've changed my bra. I should've done something about buying better underwear, too.

Is this really happening?!

My twenty minute total adds up slightly when I spend a further three minutes freaking out and the last two, rearranging myself after the freak out. He's sat up in his bed fully dressed when I finally secure my courage and though he's got the television on, he's also reading a book in his palm.

He looks up when I delicately shut the door, smiles playfully and tucks the book gently onto the counter, face down. I'm still freaking out slightly, my hands wringing out my wrist and my chest taking unnecessary breaths.

'Sit with me?' He asks softly, almost frowning but he wipes it away with a quick smile. My feet are heavy as I head to his bed, my throat thick when I stand above him both desperate for his touch and desperately nervous.

He angles his face up, tugging me by the hands to stand in-between his legs, his smile proud but his eyes locked on every one of my features.

'Are you okay?'

I nod, unable to hide how my tits quite literally moving for him. Or rather, the lungs beneath are making them appear bigger on every inhale. He weaves a hand from my cheek into the locks of my hair, gentle and yet firm enough to push the loose hair band off so that the rest of the waves tumble heavily over my parted lips. His other is playing with my sweaty hand and not seeming at all bothered by the moisture.

'Nervous…' I admit after a second and I literally have to say it because my knees have started to shake like I'm a teenager and this is my first time. He notices and looks at my stupid unreliable legs before turning those blue sapphires back to me.

'We don't have to…'

'I want to.' I want it so much that my hands are fucking immobilised and even if I wanted to touch him, I wouldn't be able to. He raises an eyebrow again, parting his lips as he asks for permission to touch his mouth to mine.

I know this'll get my brain in gear so I nod, letting my forehead rest against his. I don't know if he's sweeter than usual or more accommodating on account of my unusual behaviour but he softly steals my lips in his and though initially it feels like my knees are going to cave in, I soon manage to remember who the heck I am and what I'm doing.

By the third kiss, I know what I need to be doing or so much so that when his kisses me, I fall into stance like a wilted flower. He parts his lips, taking mine carefully and reminding me cautiously to breathe because I can't listen to basic human functions.

To steady myself, I put a hand on his shoulder, my breath still coming out hot, dizzying my brain with the dire need to have him all over. My heart rate is flying. While my neck is exposed for the sweet breath of air, he carefully lowers his lips to my jaw, sniggering slightly when I groan and move my hand from his shoulder up into his hair. He gets the hint and feeling his smile against my throat he lays further wisps of his lips till they're at my collar-bone. I'm leaning so far into him, so desperate for everything that I unexpectedly lose my footing and tumble onto him, pushing both of us into his mattress.

'Sorry, sorry…'

'Shh, My Love.'

To silence his chuckle, he pulls my lips to his again. The ache bubbles about me, my lips like spreading fire into his mouth as he slips his tongue across mine, brushing the fingers of his right hand down my side till they're at my hips.

My body just about convulses.

'May I?' He chuckles and I assume he means take my shirt off because I'm gripping him so tightly my knuckles are going white. I nod wordlessly but his fingers pass the T-shirt, stopping at the crook of my knee to pull me onto him. I gasp, clawing at his jaw to get closer to his hormones while he moves his hand to rub soothingly at my back.

I'm still shaking.

That doesn't stop my hands though and firstly fisting and then tugging the material, he realises I need him to take his shirt off. He does it in the same manner as he has from the start, pulling it over his back and disregarding of it somewhere else when he refocuses his attention in trying to make me relax again. It's getting ridiculous. I know he can feel my heart beat, I know he can feel me start to sweat and I know I haven't been able to do anything other than breathe loudly but that's not what I want to focus on.

I keep stealing the bravery from his mouth and using it to fuel my own desires, using it to stop me from screaming.

'Take your pants off.'

'Excuse me?' He asks, gleefully confused as he sits up. I can't seem to return to my usual arrogance but I suspect that's got to be because it's his first time and I'm assimilating that panic. Though in perfect honesty, I've never seen him so relaxed.

I kiss him quickly, trying to bite back my urgency but I think he can taste it.

'I want you naked.' I demand hastily and before he even has a chance to blink, I'm pulling off my own pants and the underwear with them though he can't see anything from this angle.

'Are you sure?' He asks, gently. He seems almost concerned when he reaches a hand out towards me but I shake it off. 'Do you really want…?'

But I interrupt him by kissing him quickly, the ache almost hurting when he struggles to melt into it as easily as before. He waits for me to nod at him before he slides his spine to the headboard and hooks his thumbs into his bottom halves. He pulls them off beneath the sheet, neatly hidden though I know he's got an erection and when I'm sure he's naked, even if I can't see it, I pull off my shirt and the bra with it.

His eyes fail to feast upon the exposure. Instead, he watches my face with a subtle air of shock though not one of pleasure. I try to convince myself otherwise.

'You're positive about this, Esme?'

I don't look at his face to see how he's looking at me now. I don't know what he's thinking of my tits if they're too small or too big or not perky enough or if he thinks my torso is fat. I need him. that's all that matters. Yet, needing him is almost making me hyperventilate as I continue to try to conceal my panting, the ache is soon replaced by another feeling of absence. My head spins.

For the same reason as him, I'm presuming, I wrap the sheet around my lower half and lean up on my knees in the same position we've found ourselves in multiple times. The look of seduction is not so easily readable on his face and rather annoyingly, he's looking like he's about to say something I don't like. His pale complexion seems worried.

Pressing myself up on my knees, close to his hips, I spread above him, my body fragile for him.

'Rubber?'

'Esme?' He pleads, eyes closing delicately. 'What's the rush?'

'I want you.' I say quickly, the words thick as if unbelievable.

He smiles shyly, pulling the sheet up my back slightly before angling his face to me. He's right, I need to slow but I can't. I need it done. Once he's finished, in fact the moment he comes... then it'll be done. We will be normal then. He just needs to come.

His hands are delicate on my face, moving sweetly into my hair so that the ends are slipping down my shuddering back. I really don't want him to think I'm still ill because I'm not. It's just nerves. I am ready for sex with him. I've been wanting this for ages.

One hand trickles down my throat, slipping into my hair again as I battle his tongue with mine, breaking down his defences and making him helpless to me. Or that's my intention, in reality I kiss him, I feel his tongue coax mine and I shudder harder, whimpering almost though I try to bite the noise away.

'We can stop?' He offers, breathily. Words like droplets of the finest water on my lip.

I shake my head, and angle my posture into him again without touching our skin together. But that's what I need, I need him to touch me. That'll make me relax. He only has to touch me.

'I'm ready, Carlisle.' I wheeze, my legs and my heart throbbing as I tighten my hands desperately into his hair.

'Are you sure?'

'Get on with it.' I demand hastily and I've had to close my eyes because there's so many things happening and I don't want to pass out.

'Would you be opposed to foreplay?' He murmurs, kissing along my jaw in order to prolong the moment. I shake my head, my heart still beating, my tits underneath him and he hasn't paid them the slightest bit of attention.

Not that it matters.

I don't want him to touch them. I want him to fuck me and get it over with. I need it to be over.

I don't know where his hand was going anyway but I grab it with my damp palm and pull it till he's touching my inner thigh. His hips lunge uncomfortable and as he groans he has to settle himself down again.

'Touch me.' I command him because I know that'll satisfy him. Once I do that, he'll stop. He won't be interested.

'Love?'

'Please.' I say, my voice overcome with the unbearable sounds of my panicked breathing. I sound like I'm suffocating and my whole body is shaking uncontrollably. My heart is not beating any more. There is no beat about it. It's like a continuous movement, throbbing uncontrollably as I feel my own control slip through my overheated skin.

His thumb brushes along my thigh, accidentally it would seem but the movement's enough and I leap away from him, throwing the back of my hand to my mouth to control the sobs.

'Stop! Stop! You've got to stop. Please. Don't touch me.' I ball the sheet up around me, hiding my nudity as unexpected tears roll down my face.

'Esme?' He asks softly and though he looks distraught, I know it's for me not because of me. That doesn't mean I face it any better.

For some stupid reason, I continue to try and take a hold of myself. Unfortunately, its easier said than done when I'm crying behind my hand while opposite the one man who I genuinely want to have sex with. Regardless, he tightens the sheet around his lower torso and moves towards me.

'I'm sorry.' I choke out, taking controllable breaths. He waits patiently, trying to offer anything he can in comfort. 'I've ruined everything. I'm so, so sorry.'

'You haven't ruined anything.' He says sternly and he moves from the middle of his bed to the side and reaches a hand out towards me.

I keep the sheet wrapped tightly around every inch of my skin when I lie next him and even when he lies down around me, I feel him grab another blanket to put between us in order to make me feel better. It makes me cry harder yet all the while he stays perfectly still, his hand folded between mine as he tries his best to comfort me without intruding.

The reason makes itself known after about ten minutes of me continuing to shake followed by the phrase: 'I don't want to go back.'

I'm lucky that he waits for me to be able to breathe before commenting upon it. He sits out my sudden outburst, running a hand up my arm, soothing, repetitive strokes and keeps his mouth shut while he listens for any other telling signs.

'Hold me?'

'Are you sure?' He asks and this time he waits for official vocal confirmation before sliding against my sheeted back and putting an arm around my stomach, against the duvet.

'I'm so sorry.' I continue to say, miserably wiping away the tears as I let his warmth make me better.

'Don't be. I shouldn't have rushed you into this…'

'But I want it.' Ignoring all the stupid things I was feeling and thinking, I do really want to have sex with him still but I'm now doubly afraid of my unexpected psycho moment. 'I want you,' I amend difficultly.

'Esme you don't have to go back. You really don't. If you wanted to take the next fourteen days off and send an email, it can be done. No questions asked.'

'I have a reputation to try and protect. There's no point applying for a job when I know my current one will tear me down in an instant.'

'They don't have anything on you.' He promises, a hand detangling the knots of my hair. 'My Love, I'm not going to let anyone dare harm you.'

'You can't promise that…' I mutter, swatting my face.

'I just did.' He says, shrugging slightly. I hesitate in his arms, needing to see his face but worried I won't like the expression.

'Carlisle?' I do turn and I regret it for reasons that don't make sense. He's facing me, a supportive smile delicate on his lip as he watches me. They're all subtle features. I feel like I want to cry again, especially when he traces my cheeks softly and kisses the tip of my nose, his hold resting over my hip, not touching by balancing on the mattress behind. 'Did you mean it when you said you'd never ask me anything?'

'I said I'd never anything of you.' He corrects with half a smile. 'I meant that I'd never expect anything from you…'

'Okay…'

'Is there a reason?' He asks softly.

'No…'

'I thought we were done with lying to each other?' He teases, a sweet smile playful when he nuzzles my nose again. It makes a minute gasp slip off my tongue.

'What if I liked you, Carlisle?'

'Pardon?' He almost looks like he wants to sit up but that would put us at different heights and makes little sense when I can't face him. I suck in a vulnerable breath and lower my eyes to where I can see his pecks moving with every heartbeat.

'What if I really liked you? What if I didn't want to have separate rooms? What if-'

'My Love,' he urges, seemingly panicked as if he cant bear the words. As if he couldn't trust them… 'Sweet, it's been a long day?'

'I want to fix this. I don't want to seem like this random nut-job? I want to… talk to you? For you to know me, too?'

Admittedly, this would be a far nicer sentence if I wasn't looking such a state but he seems flattered by the offer and tightens an arm around me.

'You haven't done anything to us. If you told me you believed in no sex before marriage, it wouldn't change my feelings for you. The only thing you could have ever done is make us better…' Though he talks quietly, it doesn't dampen the meaning any less and even when it should be wildly inappropriate, kissing his mouth is the kind of heaven that settles my return into longing. It makes my stomach flip, my legs feel unable to stand but not in a way that's going to push me into a panic attack. Unlike a moment ago.

'As for getting to know you…' He inhales, resettling his shoulder with his blue eyes up at me. 'There is nothing I'd like more.'

'Really?' I ask, needing him to be telling the truth. He nods, seriously. 'Then ask me something?'

'What like?'

'The thing you want to know the most.' I say, deliberately making sure I hold his gaze because I don't want him to constantly feel like he has to pander to me just because I'm prone to water works.

He pulls himself up to sit against the headboard, a hand in his hair with the sheet draped against his stomach. He thinks for a moment, not because he doesn't know what to ask but because he wants to word it correctly. That's near on impossible in itself.

'I guess one thing that's plagued my curiosity... the other day you called your ex a dickhead?'

'You want to know about Charles?' I gasp, surprised once more. I don't think I could've ever imagined him saying that and the thought makes me feel cold. He tries to play off his interest with a shrug but he's watching me thoughtfully, wondering.

'Is this a bad subject?' He asks.

I shake my head, numbed almost before really shaking my head.

'We can leave if you'd rather? I'm sorry, I was just…'

'What have I said about him?' I ask. He half shrugs again, staring at his hand before turning that same squint towards me.

'I know he was your last boyfriend.'

'He was my only boyfriend.' I correct, slightly sourly.

'That you knew him for a while? He knew your brothers?'

'I told you that?' I ask. He shakes his head, a little shy.

'Not the last bit. I kind of picked that up from small excerpts from your phone calls over the years.'

'Oh.'

'But that's it?'

'Why?' I ask quietly.

'Why do I want to know about him?' He guesses. I nod, feeling bad for wondering it but also still reluctant to completely dive in at the deep end. 'You've never called him a dickhead before. Infact, you're unusually tight-lipped of him. It made me wonder...?'

I pull myself up too, a hand on my mouth for a moment trying to see if I can worm my way out of it. Talking is overrated I decide. So overrated. I don't like talking. I prefer listening.

'He was the gardener, still is I reckon. He was in-between Daniel and Richard's age so they used to hang out a lot. His dad liked my family and he started working for us the moment he finished school...'

Its no secret that while he took his time set

'And that's how you met?' He assumes.

'Not really.' I fiddle a little more with my fingernails, avoiding looking at him properly. 'I knew him from the boys.'

'What was he like?' He murmurs and it's like telling someone their favourite actor is dead.

'Handsome.'

He takes a careful bite of his lip, cringing at the unexpected praise.

'Charming.' I add. He looks away.

'Classic.'

'Classic?' He repeats.

'Think of a good ol' fashioned 1960s husband. You picturing it?'

'Yes.' But judging by the reservation in his tone, I know he's not imagining it well enough.

'Maybe not 1960s, maybe even earlier. How about 1940s?'

'Post-war?' He asks.

'Pre-war attitude with the desperation of the mid-war.'

'Oh.' He responds, lightly. He's trying to say something, I can see it in the way his words hesitate out his mouth and he catches them before he can go too far. 'So he was a part of your family?'

'Yes.'

He nods again. He's trying to stay silent. Trying not to be curious and I can't bear to have him either ignorant or not ignorant. I want him to be satisfied, I want him to be content. I just don't want him to know.

'How old were you when you met him?'

'I was eight.' I say quickly. 'But initially it was-. Well I don't know if you'd call it innocent but it wasn't sinful either. If anyone did the chasing, it was me.'

'You liked him?'

'I wasn't really interested until I realised how much my mother loved him. That's when I liked him too. By eleven I was constantly trying to grab his attention. By twelve I had it.'

He shivers. 'You forget how young you are at the time but now... Eleven is so…delicate.'

'Mmm.'

'And he was older?' He remembers, waiting for my confirmation.

'Yep.'

'We can stop?' He murmurs, aware of my bluntness and doing the best thing he can think to make this easier. It makes the guilt seep in. I shake my head and reach across for his hand, playing with the delicate lines in his palm and watching them.

'People loved him. Absolutely adored him, especially my mother. Things weren't right from the start… as you may have been able to guess with the thirteen year old having sex. There were complications and he… changed. Well, no. He didn't change. I did and then I changed back and it fucked me over.'

He doesn't say it but I know he's confused because I can feel myself talk too fast.

'He's a traditionalist?' And I hate myself for almost defending him.

'A 1940s traditionalist?' Carlisle asks and his interest is deep but his apprehension is clear. I roll my eyes at myself, biting my lip to try again.

'He wanted marriage the moment we met. I was eight. At twelve he vowed to marry me when I came of age. All fun and games according to my Mother. Esme's little crush and by thirteen… he couldn't necessarily wait.'

'Remind how old he was?'

'Twenty.'

'And he just decided you were… old enough?'

I shake my head. 'He'd decided a year before but at that point he was satisfied by other-. Are you okay?'

'Mm.'

'You're looking pissed off?'

'I am pissed off.' He says softly and it's such a weird combination to have him so furious and still so gentle with me that I'm not worried about the effects of squeezing his hand.

'Anyway. Things sped along. My father hated him and my mother adored him and soon enough we were causing trouble in every possible vicinity. He stole a car from Henry. Money from Richard and introduced Daniel to the joys that cocaine could bring. But they're okay now. They don't blame him.'

'Don't?' He repeats.

'He's still the family gardener for Fuck Sake.' I laugh though I shouldn't and pull my hair back. 'Everything was on his terms. Everything from outside to inside the relationship and when he realised I wanted to move, he asked my mother for my hand in marriage. She agreed, I ran and she's hated my guts ever since.'

'So you didn't just leave for university?'

'No, I stayed with my cousin for a year in Wisconsin. He discovered where I was living so I ran again. He knows where I am now, he knows I won't go back and that's where we are. He'll wait.'

'So you were engaged, too?'

'Not in my eyes.'

He's staring at me in a way that I can't understand. I think it's probably heart shattering in his world. It proves he knows fuck all about me. It proves how much I like staying hidden.

'Can I ask something?' He murmurs, still gentle as he faces towards me. Under the duvet he's crossed his foot over the other and bearing in mind he's on a foreign side of the bed, I can't understand what he must be thinking. Hence why I'm nervous to respond.

'Yes.'

'I feel like you're giving me a report. Like this is a story belonging to someone else, like it's all a really horrible dream that no one wants to acknowledge…'

'Right?'

'Why did you break up?' He asks and before I have chance to respond, he tilts his face towards me, swallowing. 'Honestly?'

'Honestly?' I ask, suddenly freaked by the seriousness of it all. 'I guess because it started to hurt?' I take a deep inhale and hold my limbs still. 'Everything hurt…' I declare, the sound of my voice even quieter. 'He had a temper… and a high sex drive and they didn't compute.'

He doesn't say anything just looks at me, thoughts trapped in an unnerving parade of questions that we don't want to address.

'I shouldn't have asked for you to bring it up. I'm so sorry…'

'Don't be.' I say. 'Guess you realise why I'm fucking warped, now.'

'You're not warped.' He responds, his tone harder than I expected it to be. 'People are warped. What the fuck is this planet?'

'What are people?'

'What are people?' He agrees. 'What the fuck is it with marriage?!'

'Fucking marriage.' I add, throwing a fist to a pillow behind. He watches it before nodding enthusiastically.

'You know what? That's a great idea. Fucking fucks of people fucking up this fucking world.'

He grabs his pillow from behind him, glares at it and in one simple tug, rips the fabric apart so that feathers burst through it. I watch amazed, my eyes enlarge and then I copy.

'Fucking bills. What the fuck are they?!' I agree, struggling to shred the material in my hands. 'For fuck sake!' I whine, laughing at myself with fury. He goes to rip it too but this particular pillow case is thicker than the others so he snags it with his sharp teeth, starts to tear it and passes it over for me to finish.

The sound of ripping fabric has never been so erotic.

'Fuck bills, fuck people, fuck the planet.'

'Fuck stupid shitty scholarships!' I say, shredding another piece so that clouds of further feathers fall about us.

'Fuck money.' He commends, signalling it with a pillowcase.

'Fuck responsibilities. Fuck tiredness. Fuck life, fuck death and fuck my fucking dick you sad little planet.'

'That was well said.' He praises, matching my giggle with a smile of his own.

'Care to add anything else?' I offer, tensing my hands to create strips of material. I'm struggling to find another pillow beneath the mountains of feathers around us but I'm strangely feeling better so I don't give a shit.

'Fuck expectations.' He says, creating a further strip of material to throw about his room. 'Fuck swearing.'

'Fuck swearing!' I agree, jabbing a finger at him, he laughs loudly, his nose scrunching up slightly.

'Fuck diseases. Fuck corruption. Fuck politicians!'

'Don't fuck politicians.' I correct, laughing. He beams back, head thrown back in laughter.

'Don't fuck politicians but fuck most of their policies. Fuck opinions. Fuck emotions. Fuck pillows!'

'Fuck pillows!' I say exposing my chest when I jump up to help rip the one in his hands. More white feathers float around us until it's like the flour incident all over again.

'Fuck bedding!' He yells and I'm literally choking so much on my own laughter, I don't give a fuck that I'm completed naked. Not that it can be seen in this mess. He grabs a corner of the duvet and shreds as much as he can, ripping fabric furiously as he starts from one end and me at another.

He's red in his cheeks from his expelling of anger, I am too and while he's making me die with laughter I kick a few of the feathers at him.

'Fuck feathers!' I giggle, attacking him several more times with the onslaught of softness. He gives me a warning look, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

'You really don't want to do that.'

'Bite me.' I challenge him.

With a grin, he lunges towards me, more white billowing about us as we just about cry with laughter, loud, selfish and unashamed.

The door is thrown open.

'What the fuck is going on?!' Edward yells and opening his sight to the horror in front of him, he throws his hand to his eyes and yells louder. 'For fuck sake!'

Realising the problem with bedding quicker than I do, Carlisle moves immediately to shield my nudity with his own. It's stupid but sweet and I can't give time to be humiliated because I'm still laughing.

'If you could close the door, Edward?' Carlisle says, clearing his throat, his cheeks pink and his shoulders still rolling with mirth. I grin, looping my arms around his neck, pressing myself into him more because we're still enjoying the other's laughter.

Edward looks disturbed. He's trying to swear but he's without words or sounds and just gawps in disgust.

'Door, Edward!' Carlisle repeats and I'm laughing so hard again I'm burying my head into his shoulder. The door slams shut, Edward still cursing before we get the accused:

'You're both fucking crazy.'

Carlisle reaches a hand behind him, delicately scratching my scalp as our laughter slows into breathy giggles, amused hums and then blissful quiet.

'We have a problem…' He murmurs, tilting his face back to me. I loosen one of my arms from around his neck and let it stroke his chest, his heart beating against it as he appreciates my movements. Our skin-to-skin contact.

'Which is?'

'This, My Love, is one hell of a fucking mess.'

He laughs again, his grin eroding up our earlier fury and while he's laughing at ourselves, I take the chance to take his lips and claim them as the only Elysium I will ever need.