As usual, mind the grammar mistakes :)
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Over the next week or so, we developed an easy pattern with each other, taking turns at cooking dinner depending on our days off, and unconsciously deciding who would take the rubbish out and who would get milk when we ran out. It was domestic bliss.
Carlisle's new work time table was a little hectic though, and sometimes he would be gone before I woke up and not back by the time I came home. Whenever I worked on his days off, I was bitter about it. I started coming home during my lunch breaks on those days, just so we could spend some time together. The half an hour it allowed us was always a nice break in the day, and he usually made me lunch before I arrived to ensure that I still had time to eat.
Uncharacteristically, Carlisle slept longer than I did on our first day off together, and I forced myself to leave him alone and be quiet, knowing he was tired from working relentlessly for a week and a half. This left too much time for me to amuse myself, which led to boredom eating. I'd wanted to go out for coffee this morning, but it was nearing ten o'clock, and I was sceptical that I could get him out of the house before twelve. I resorted to hunting through the cupboard for a replacement, eventually settling on cereal. I managed to stuff about half a bowl in my face before my boyfriend finally decided to join me in the kitchen.
Sleepy and a little disorientated by the time, he rubbed his face, sucking his fingers back inside the sleeves of his hoodie to combat the cold air in the kitchen. It took a moment for him to focus on me, and then a little more time to comprehend what was in my plate. "What in the actual fuck are you eating?" Carlisle asked, standing in the kitchen doorway, open-mouthed in shock as he watched me take a bite of the brightly coloured substance.
I had to laugh at his shock, wondering how he'd made it to twenty three without trying novelty breakfast food. I held out my spoon for him to try it. "They're called 'Lucky Charms', Carlisle, don't look so disturbed."
He didn't come closer, wrinkling his nose at the colourful pieces on the spoon. "Babe, you can consider yourself 'lucky' if you don't end up hospitalised from eating bits of plastic," he shook his head, half teasing, and half genuinely horrified.
"It's marshmallow," I laughed. "Don't hate it until you try it; we love this shit here, you immigrant. Kate especially. And I'm pretty sure they have it in the UK, so don't pretend we're the weird ones."
"Marshmallow for breakfast?" he repeated sceptically, cringing as he traced the spoon as I lifted it to my lips.
"Come here and try it." I held the spoon out again, and this time he crept closer and let me feed it to him. "I know it's early for colours, but it's good, I promise."
Muttering something about artificial dye and too much sugar, he chewed it slowly. "…It looks like it's radio-active," he muttered after a minute.
"It tastes nice though," I teased, knowing I had him. "It even contains some nutrition, if you want to read the box."
"If I read the box, I'm sure I will have a heart attack." He rolled his eyes at me. "And it tastes like pudding, not breakfast."
Laughing again, I nudged him in the ribs lightly, making him jump. "But it yummy," I teased again, to which he reluctantly nodded. Kissing the side of his face, I wrapped my arm around his waist, tucking him against my side. "You slept in this morning."
Turned to face me, he hugged me properly, his cheek against my collar bone. "Yeah, it was good…work's been kind of shitty this week…apparently the closer it gets to Christmas time, the more people feel the need to be dickheads to sales people."
"You've seen what I get like," I reminded him, squeezing him gently. "Good thing that you get to hide away in your office with your paper work, huh?"
He nodded, sighing. "Yeah, I feel bad for the rest of the staff though. Why do people need to be shitty in a damn bookshop, for god's sake? Go to Walmart." His analysis had me chuckling, and I kissed the top of his head.
"Less than two months, and then it's over," I reminded him. "Are you…feeling okay about it?"
"…yeah," he answered cautiously after hesitating a moment. "Yeah, I'm okay."
"Nervous?" I squeezed his hand, carefully watching his face.
"Little bit," he forced a smile.
"It'll all be fine, Carlisle, I promise."
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I hadn't had my brother in my kitchen for months, but here he was, home-baked casserole and all.
"Carmen cooked it," he told me before I could comment, making me laugh. It was a relief; Eleazar was a pretty shit cook, when it came down to it.
"Thank god for that," I teased him.
He rolled his eyes, pulling me into a one-armed hug. "Congratulations on your new roommate, by the way. I'm surprised it took you two that long, honestly; you're practically attached to each other."
I pushed him lightly with my shoulder. "We're not that bad. We do have separate lives, you know."
Laughing, he chose not to comment. It had been a long time since I had to be alone in a kitchen with him, and we were a little clumsy as we worked around each other to dish everything up, but we got there in the end.
Dinner was nice, and I was glad that we were in my flat rather than Eleazar's; sure, Kate was intent on making everything sticky, but it was somewhere both me and Carlisle were comfortable. No one could convince my niece to sit at the table as ice cream was handed out, and I had to relent and let her eat in front of the TV to keep the peace. I was saying prayers for my furniture.
Carmen and Carlisle were entertaining the child while I started to clean up, and Eleazar had excused himself to go to the bathroom. The conversation between the two of them was quiet and interrupted by Kate, but it was nice to hear, all the same. I liked that my boyfriend could be close to at least one member of my family, and I knew she was fond of him too.
"…What was it like…the first time you spent Christmas with Eleazar's family…?" Carlisle asked her, quiet and a little bit nervous. Proof that he still worried about it.
Although I couldn't see them from the kitchen, I could hear Carmen's faint confusion, but she answered him anyway. "Like any other Christmas; wonderful." There was a pause in their conversation where he didn't respond, and I wondered if I'd have to step in to bail him out of a conversation he didn't want to be part of. "His parents will be fine with you, Carlisle. I know you've had a rough time with them, but they're lovely people; they wouldn't throw you out on Christmas day."
He didn't have time to answer her, Eleazar appearing again and interrupting them. Carlisle retreated into the kitchen with me, a little unsteadied by the conversation, though he had initiated it. Not commenting on anything, he picked up a tea towel, starting to dry the dishes.
I kissed his cheek, rubbing the small of his back, but chose not to say anything about it. I didn't think it would help at all, seeming as he'd fled to get away from the question. Part of me suspected he hadn't actually wanted to ask, but hadn't been able to stop himself. "You okay?"
"Yeah." He forced a smile. "Just tired."
"Are you working tomorrow?"
"No, not until Monday." As he reached up to put a cup back in the cupboard, I mentally traced the slither of exposed skin against his back as his shirt shifted up, pressing my fingers into the bench to stop myself touching him.
"You can sleep all you want, then." I was fairly sure that Kate would get whiney within the next hour, and Eleazar would have to take her home to bed, so he could go to bed soon if he wanted. I wasn't tired yet, but going to bed with him wasn't unappealing.
Humming quietly in acknowledgment, he turned to face me, hugging me tightly and resting his head on my shoulder. Eleazar interrupted us, making an entrance behind us.
"Mum and Dad want you over for brunch on your birthday, Garrett," he told me, somewhat obnoxiously. I knew this already, so I knew he was shit-stirring.
I hated the occasion. It involved everything that made me feel like shit; photos, food, and unrelenting attention. Thank fuck I didn't have enough friends for anyone to try and throw parties, or I'd have to find something to jump off. I groaned in answer to my brother, releasing my hold on Carlisle.
"It happens every year, don't be a drama queen," he warned, rolling his eyes at me.
"That doesn't make it any more enjoyable," I grumbled. "The only good thing about it is cake."
"Which you never eat," he reminded me.
My cheeks heated a little at his observation, but I tried not to react. He was right though; I could never bring myself to eat it in front of whoever my mother managed to drag into the event, and I knew that it made me look like a stuck-up prick. Because what kind of asshole doesn't want their own birthday cake? Me, apparently.
"Suck it up, Gar, it's happening and you can't stop it. Make peace with the fact that you're an old man, and get over it," he teased. It was then his daughter started up, complaining she was sleepy and wanted to go home now, just as I counted on her doing. Thank god.
They wished us goodbye, and Carmen enclosed Carlisle in a tight hug, softly reinforcing that Christmas would be okay. I wrapped my arm around his waist, rubbing his side as we closed the door behind them.
"You never told me it was your birthday, Garrett," he murmured to me once they were gone. It wasn't quite a scolding, but I got the sense that he was a little put-out by it.
"That's because I'd like to ignore it as much as possible," I grumbled. "It's a dumb occasion anyway."
He didn't let me pull back, placing a kiss on my lips. "What do you want? It's supposed to be for presents, right?"
"Nothing, just forget about it." Already, I wanted to smash my head into a wall. Even more so if he insisted on getting on the band wagon. Perhaps 'birthday bus' was more appropriate.
"I don't think your parents are going to abide by that rule, Gar," he laughed. "What's the matter?"
"They do this every year, and it never goes well; it always makes me sick," I admitted, sighing. "You hate Christmas, and I hate my birthday. The only thing I want is you in bed, preferably without clothes on. I don't think mum is going to take to that answer well, though."
"I'm sure we can do that anyway," he laughed, rolling his eyes at me. "But I'm not asking your mother's permission to keep you home in bed for the day. And that's still not a present; that's just what happens whenever someone leaves us alone too long."
I had to laugh at that; he did have a point. "I don't want presents," I grumbled.
"But-"
"If you bring any sort of gift into the house, I'm terminating this relationship." The threat wasn't about to be taken seriously, I could tell, but he dropped the subject, reaching for my hand instead. I wasn't sure what made me so sour about the whole thing, but I hated everything about it. "I'll get revenge on your birthday, if you try anything," I warned. We hadn't really talked about that, and I wasn't sure where we stood in terms of it. I just hoped it wasn't as sensitive a topic as Christmas.
"Mine isn't until March, so keep it in your pants until then." Thankfully, there didn't seem to be any negative emotions attached to it, so maybe I was the only one who was shitty about ageing. There was a pause before he started up again. "What do you want for Christmas, then?"
"Carlisle," I groaned.
"What? You want me to do Christmas properly, and this is doing it properly," he teased, seemingly pleased to have me cornered.
I rolled my eyes. "You're impossible."
He feigned innocence. "But isn't that what Christmas is all about? What'd we buy all that obnoxious paper for, then?"
"You really are a menace this morning."
"And you invited me to live here," he teased. "You're stuck with me now."
Unable to resist a smile, I stood behind him and wrapped my arms around his shoulders, kissing the side of his face. "And I'm bloody glad I did."
He leaned back against me, folding his arms over mine. "Me too."