A/N: Oh my gosh, you all are awesome. The feedback is incredible. To those reviewers that I cannot reply to, I do intend to fill in the gaps of their relationship. Someone asked about a "January" chapter, when they began their relationship. That part is coming. For this chapter, we are back to the main timeline.
"Why am I so tired? It's barely eight o'clock," yawned Elsie as the sink filled with water. "I'm glad the office closes at one tomorrow, I might sleep all afternoon. Thank God it's a short week."
"It's the after-Christmas hangover," Charles said. He opened the dishwasher. "I've been fairly tired myself. Although," he smirked, "perhaps if we had done more sleeping over the weekend, we wouldn't be so tired now." Elsie slapped him on the behind with her towel. He laughed, grabbing its other end. "Don't play innocent with me, Elsie Hughes!" He pulled her towards him.
"No," she protested, feebly pulling back. He yanked the towel out of her hand, tossing it on the counter before kissing her, his hands caressing the sides of her face. She slipped her arms around his back, feeling the warmth of his body through her shirt. His soft lips worshipped her mouth until the sound of water dripping on the floor broke them apart.
"Damn!" Elsie cried, shutting the water off. "Charles Carson, this is your fault! Now it's run over." She rolled up her sleeve and plunged her arm into the overfull sink. She pulled out the drain in the bottom as he knelt on the floor with the towel.
"Love, can you move? You're standing in the worst of it," he said as he tossed the sopping towel in the direction of the laundry room. She moved aside, handing him a wad of paper towels. After he dried the floor, she went to work scrubbing the pots. He filled the dishwasher and reset it before sitting down at the kitchen table. "You're not really angry are you?" he asked. He relaxed when she laughed, placing the last pot on the drying mat.
"Of course not, you old booby," she said, ruffling his hair. "But it does irk me sometimes that I lose all sense of reality when you kiss me."
"I need to get in as much as possible today," he said as she sat down. "I'll have to behave myself tomorrow night, or Bill will throw me into the freezing pond."
"More likely Beryl would do that." Elsie glanced at the living room wall. The boxes were stacked in tidy rows. "I know I should start unpacking or unsorting, or both, but I don't have the will right now."
"Don't start tonight. You would not get as far as you like, and then you'd want to clean up the mess tomorrow," Charles said reasonably. "Wait until Saturday, then you can start properly. And I can help you, if you like. Or I can go over to the condo and bring more things over."
"You know me well." She patted his hand, stifling another yawn. "That's a much better idea."
He turned her hand over, tracing her fingers with his own. "Are you sure you're all right with moving in here?" he asked. He worried that it would make her feel claustrophobic, never having time to herself.
"Yes," she said. She curled her fingers around his. "Have you forgotten it was my idea in the first place? You have more room for storage here. I'm the one invading your space."
"It's a welcome invasion," he grinned, kissing her hand. "It's only temporary anyway. I'm looking forward to looking for a house together."
"Let me get the condo sold first," she reminded him. "I called Jean and gave her a warning that I wanted it listed by the middle of the month. She said that there shouldn't be a problem selling, that she's had a few people ask about it."
"Do you think we should wait? For the wedding, I mean? It's a lot we're planning in a short period of time," he fretted. They had settled on a date in late April. Elsie did not want to wait much longer, due to the newest Bates being scheduled to arrive at the end of May. Charles worried that the end of Matthew's deployment in June would be a tricky transition at the firm, for staff reasons.
In reality, neither of them wanted to wait until the summer, much less the fall.
"I'm not waiting any more, Charlie," she said, a gleam in her eye. "I know you don't want to wait anymore, either. We will get through these next few months, and then we will be married. For the rest of our lives." She squeezed his hand. His heart swelled.
"I can't tell you how much it means to me that you want to take my name," he whispered. "You are so strong, and for you to give up your identity as Mrs. Hughes, it-it means everything."
"I am not losing my identity," she said quietly. "You know my last name hasn't meant that much to me. I will still be Elsie. Your Elsie." She rubbed her thumb over his hand. "To the staff and most of our friends, I've been Mrs. Carson for a long time."
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The bonfire blazed under the night sky. Elsie wrapped the flannel blanket tighter around her, enjoying the heat. Tom Branson sat next to her on the hay bale.
"It's very becoming," he said, sipping his hot cider.
"The blanket? Perhaps I should wear it as a wedding dress. That would be original," she laughed.
"Not the blanket," he smiled. "You in love. You're absolutely glowing, and it's not because of the fire."
"Thank you, Tom," she blushed. She looked across the fire where Charles and Bill were chatting with Phyllis and Joe. Her future husband sensed her gaze and turned to smile at her before going back to his conversation.
"Elsie? Cider, or Gluhwein?" Beryl walked from the house, holding two cups. "Daisy said that she'd drink whichever one you didn't want."
"I'll have the wine, please," she said, taking it from her friend. Beryl handed the other cup to Daisy, who was sitting with Ivy, before settling down beside her friend.
"Whispering back and forth, those two," she grumbled. "As if I didn't know what they were talking about!" She gestured to the group of young men clustered, laughing, with beers in their hands. "That Andy," she sighed. "Bill's talked to him, says he doesn't mind at all if the lad asks Daisy out, but he hasn't yet. The poor girl's wondering what to do."
"They'll figure it out," Tom said. "After all, Mr. Carson eventually came around." He winked at Elsie. "I don't think it will take Andy that long to ask Daisy on a date."
"Let's hope not," huffed Beryl. She turned to Tom. "I checked on Sybbie, she's sleeping soundly. Didn't make a sound when I popped my head in the guest room."
"Thanks for looking in. And for letting us stay the night."
"It's nothing, Bill and I love company, especially people we like," she grinned. "Not like this woman here," she nudged Elsie playfully. "Doesn't she look beautiful, Tom?"
"She does indeed. I was telling her when you came over, how love seems to agree with her."
"Stop it, both of you," Elsie cried. "All right, I'm happy, but surely there isn't that much of a difference than before?"
"You really can't tell, can you?" Beryl exchanged an amused glance with Tom, rolling her eyes. "Well, trust us. I don't know how Charlie's going to make it through his wedding day without spontaneously combusting into dust." Tom laughed and excused himself, getting up to go talk to Alfred, Jimmy, Thomas and Andy. His seat had not been vacated for long before Charles came over and sat next to Elsie.
"How are you enjoying the bonfire?" Beryl asked. "This must be the first time you're not with Robert, Cora and the attorney set at Dickie Merton's cocktail gala. It's a bit of a culture shock, I would think."
"Not that much," Charles said, putting an arm around Elsie. She leaned against him. "Honestly, the gala is a bit formal, even for me."
"That's saying a lot," Elsie muttered. She was relieved when he had said he'd rather go to the Masons' bonfire for New Years' Eve.
"It's all attorney ego, and gossip, and pretending to be more successful than you really are," Charles continued. The women looked at him in amazement. He raised his eyebrows. "What? It's true."
"I'm surprised you went for so many years," Elsie said. "You could have come here for New Year's."
"We've invited him ever since we've been married," said Beryl, glaring at Charles. "But you always refused, saying the staff wouldn't have any fun if you showed up. Maybe that was true ten years ago, but you've changed."
"I've been coming here on New Year's Day for the past few years," Charles protested. "It would not have made sense to be here for New Years' Eve and the first of January."
"I'm glad we're here tonight," Elsie said, removing the blanket from her shoulders. "And you aren't the only attorney skipping the gala. Alfred, Jimmy and Tom are here, too."
"John went to the gala, but he's already home," Charles said, checking his phone. "He was probably happy to have a pregnant wife at home as an excuse to leave early."
They all looked up when Bill called for their attention close to midnight. Everyone got in a circle around the bonfire, singing "Auld Lang Syne", and holding hands. Elsie noticed Andy and Daisy standing next to each other. She smiled to herself. Clever girl.
Charles exchanged a smile with Beryl on his other side. "I keep thinking about last New Year's, how different things were."
"I remember," she whispered. "Now aren't you glad you took my advice?"