I started "Breaking Dawn" in hopes of getting inspiration, and all I had to do was read a few pages before an idea hit me. Just think, with 756 pages, the possibilities are endless.

Carlisle couldn't remember a time when he was an illogical human. There were flashes of a life Before, but not much that wasn't drowned out by three hundred years of experience as a vampire.

Thus, he didn't know how to deal with humans being illogical, as Charlie was at the moment. He, after all, had not been the one to plant the idea of marriage into his sons head, so he was in no way to blame for Bella's premature marriage. But because Charlie was so... human... he had been shunning Carlisle, casting him out of his living room, off of his couch, and refusing to come round and visit. But worst of all possible crimes, Charlie had been withholding sex.

Withholding.

Sex.

Same sentence. And it wasn't just the sex, which was scandalous enough. Charlie was mad at him. At him. He couldn't deal with that.

Since he couldn't call of the wedding, which would be the only thing to calm Charlie down to normal, rational levels of thought, Carlisle thought to try persuasion as a last resort. Hey, he figured, if it worked for Austen, it could work for him.

xXxXx

The last time he had baked, on Charlie's birthday, it had been extremely taxing on both himself and his family, so Carlisle decided that if he was really, truly desperate, he would do that, but not until he had not other options.

Carlisle had already ruled out trying to talk sense into Charlie, since, from experience, he knew you could not fight illogicality with logic. No, he would try to persuade the man through more subtle channels. So he took Bella shopping.

"Why are you doing this? Not that I don't appreciate it, Carlisle, it just isn't... like you." Bella was looking at him warily from the corner of her eye as he practically ran her through the bakery in Port Angeles--he'd barely managed to claw the girl from Alice's pre-marital grasp, and he was not going to waste precious time puttering through the pastries. He, after all, was a vampire on a mission.

"Call it..." He searched for something to call it. "A pre-wedding present. Like your car. It's a Before present. Then you get your wedding present. And then... your After present." Goddammit, now he had to think of another present for his daughter-in-law. Well, he would tackled that problem on a day when he wasn't in search of the Perfect Pastry.

"But it's for your family," he added. "Your whole family." A little wrinkle creased her brow, and she said, "But my mom won't be here for a few days."

"For you and Charlie. Your whole Forks family. That's what I meant, of course," he said, dodging an old woman holding a baguette like a medieval spear, poised to strike if he even thought about making a move on that quiche.

"Okay," Bella said reluctantly, drawing the word out. She fisted her hands in her sleeves, a nervous habit he had observed many, many times before. It was only then that it hit him that it was really awkward, him asking her to come with him like he did. But Charlie... Charlie was worth it.

"Charlie likes vanilla," she said, pointing to a simple yellow cake decorated with plain old vanilla frosting.

"Not that one?" he asked, pointing to a ridiculously ornate one next to it, but she wrinkled her nose.

"I don't like anything flashy..." He was about to snap that he didn't care what she liked. "...and neither does Charlie. I guess I get it from him," she said with a smile. "Although... I think he likes creamed cheese frosting better."

"Oh, good! Like that?" Carlisle asked, eagerly prodding the glass display with his finger. He made a knocking noise on the glass, like a stone striking a window, and quickly lowered his hand. He had pointed to a small cake, another yellow one, with creamed cheese frosting this time. Which, as far as he could tell, was the same as vanilla. But if Bella said Charlie liked it better, then he would paint himself in creamed cheese frosting. He decided to file that into the "desperate" folder in his brain.

He had it gift wrapped while Bella went to look at chocolate bunnies, wondering if the little human girl would be tactless enough to mention anything when he delivered the cake solely to Charlie. He hoped she would clue in, but seeing her knock over a displayed pyramid of chocolate, his hopes rolled away like the malted milk balls scattered all over the floor.

xXxXx

Charlie had very graciously accepted the cake, probably on Bella's behalf, trying to accept the family she was marrying into, but Carlisle could tell that it hadn't had the desired effect. If anything, with it's whiteness and the pretense under which it was given, it only served to remind Charlie of the wedding. He would have to move to plan B, only he wouldn't call it that, because he had the feeling he'd reach plan J before his goal was accomplished, and that sounded really depressing. But it had been days since he had spent an evening with Charlie, let alone a night, and it was much worse than he'd ever imagined it would be, so if he had to go so far as J, he would. He would go beyond.

xXxXx

So food had been unsuccessful. He briefly considered beer, but didn't want it misconstrued as trying to get Charlie drunk. He would never do a thing like that. While they were fighting. Unless he was really desperate. Well never mind any of that.

He considered a new TV, but knew how dearly Charlie loved his flat screen, and even with the offer of a better one, he probably wouldn't give it up. Maybe he could do something involving Charlie's job? Make it easier somehow? Or maybe, he could opt for the more traditional form of placation...

xXxXx

This time, even though Bella was female, he didn't think she would be helpful at all. Bella wasn't a flower kind of girl, and at the mention of floral arrangements for the wedding, she had nearly passed out. Taking Esme would be... awkward. It wasn't that she didn't know about Charlie it was just... it was awkward. Rosalie wasn't even an option, so that left Alice.

"Are these for Charlie?" she had asked, as soon as they had gotten in the car, causing Charlie to nearly reverse through the garage door.

"So?" he had countered defencively, inarticulately.

"I just saw something, that was all."

"You mean... you Saw something?"

"Yeah," she replied easily, looking out the window at the passing scenery as though she wasn't holding the key to his immortal life or proverbial death in her disinterested grasp.

"And? Does he ever start acting rational again?"

She looked at him, just looked, out of the corner of her eye, and he knew she wasn't going to tell him.

"You need to figure it out for yourself," she said, sounding like some kind of wise monk trying to guide an unruly apprentice, rather than his daughter, never mind that she was a surrogate.

Now she pointed at different arrangements while Carlisle shot them down like an RAF ace during the war. They were either too purple, too fluffly, too sparse, too twiggy, note nice enough, too elaborate, too simple, too full of baby's breath, or a million other things that earned him the name Goldilocks before the afternoon was through.

Until Alice pointed, and he swore he saw a ray of sunlight fall upon the sprigs of wildflower-looking blooms and birds begin to sing (although it was only the bell above the door of the shop). There weren't roses, at least not the classic kind, so it wasn't too romantic. There were peonies with something that looked like an overgrown, blue baby's breath and clumps of Queen Anne's Lace, never mind that that was a weed. He took it.

This time, that same evening, he made sure to deliver it when Bella wasn't home.

"What are these for?" Charlie asked after opening the door and finding a very floral Carlisle Cullen looking like an anxious little kitten wanting very badly to be chosen for adoption over all the other little kittens. Charlie tried to push that image from his head. There was no way, after all, he could tackle Carlisle on his doorstep, in view of the neighbours, which was the inevitable result of such an image.

"Um... no occasion." He thrust them out, and Charlie took them, warily.

"Thanks. I don't know if Bella likes these, but hey, it's the thought that counts, right?" And then he shut the door.

If Carlisle had had a beating heart, it would have stopped dead right then.