I think I'm back on track with regular updates, if my exams will allow it. The birthday chapter will go up on Wednesday, and hopefully Wednesday will remain the regular posting day like it used to be. Sorry I've been so useless lately, my university is on my ass with assignments at the moment.

The silence never bothered me anymore. I didn't feel the need to turn on the radio to expel the quiet when I was with Carlisle, content to stand in silence. It was comfortable, and being alone with my thoughts wasn't as terrifying as it used to be. Maybe because they were full of him. I was such a fucking idiot.

"Can we hang your sketches on the wall?" Although I had wanted to ask, I hadn't wanted to ask right then.

It took him a moment to respond, and his hands froze in their endeavours to get into his jacket. "Am I you five-year-old child?" he teased, hiding a frown. His eyes wandered to the book, and had it been closer to him, I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd hidden it.

I caught hold of his waist, bringing our lips together. "No, but I'm proud of you and it bothers me that you keep them locked up in a folder for no one to see."

He tangled one hand in my hair as we kissed, the other rubbing the small of my back, but really didn't look that impressed about it. Anxiety was bubbling underneath the surface, and he was nibbling his lip as he thought about it. "Shouldn't you be hanging Kate's pictures on the walls? You treat her like your daughter when she's here."

"Is that a 'no', then?" Cupping his face in my hand, I stroked my thumb across his cheek, letting my lips graze his jaw. I wasn't about to push the point, if he didn't like it; it had already occurred to me that maybe he liked having them hidden away like that.

"…I'm just not sure, Gar…I'm okay with you seeing them…sort of…but then when we have guests, or your parents come over…" It was winding him up, and he couldn't quite meet my eyes, guilty. "It's weird."

"That's fine, Carlisle; I wouldn't do it without your permission," I assured him softly, pressing more kisses against his neck and winding my arms around his waist. "That's why I asked you."

Offering a shy smile, he hugged me suddenly, his arms around my shoulders as I ran my hands down his back. "…I really don't want that…"

"It was just a thought," I chuckled. "Please don't worry about it." Cuddling in the kitchen was lovely, and I loved having my arms around him, but we were interrupted by my stomach growling, pissed that it was eleven o'clock in the morning and I hadn't had breakfast yet. Laughing, we broke apart. "Hey, um…do you want to go to a café or something to get food? I want to try…" I trailed off, unsure of myself. I figure it was better to do it if I was starving, though; eating had a bit more of a pull then.

He smiled hopefully, and his faith in me made me a little more hopeful as well. "Yeah, that'd be nice." Running his hands down my arms, he squeezed my fingers. "Do you have somewhere in mind?"

Biting my lip, I thought about it for a while. "...somewhere small, maybe? Where it's not so crowded?"

"Where ever you're most comfortable."

We ended up in one of the first places we'd gotten coffee together, and the memory was nice if nothing else. My stomach was doing anxious flips, making me a little nauseous, but Carlisle squeezing my fingers helped to keep me grounded. "…I'm nervous…" I whispered as we waited in line to order, fidgeting with my clothing; it already felt too tight, and I was sure everyone could tell.

"You're okay," he murmured to me, sliding his arm around my waist to rub my side. "I'm so proud of you; you're doing so well."

Forcing a breath between gritted teeth, I stepped up to the counter, picking the least offensive sandwich on the menu. It was on the plate way too soon, and this time when my stomach growled in anticipation, it hurt and I wrapped my arms around my middle, swallowing a whimper.

Carlisle took my hand and led me over into a quieter corner, letting me back into a wall before I lost my shit. "It's okay," he assured me, reaching over the table to brush my hair off my face. His touch helped to calm me, and I watched as he took a pointed bite of his lunch.

Keeping my eyes on him and refusing to look at anyone else in the room, I mimicked his action, taking the tiniest bite I could. Still, my throat closed and I almost gagged. Already I was hyperventilating, shifting uncomfortably as the texture of the bread became awful. I really wanted to spit it out, but I couldn't do it discreetly and I didn't know what to do. Panicking, I was holding back tears, silently pleading with Carlisle to get me out of here.

He stood up, standing in front of me and partially blocking my view of the rest of the diners, hugging me against him. "Try drinking, Gar, it might help you swallow." Pouring a glass of water, he slid it across the table for me. "Just a little sip. If it makes it worse, we can go to the bathroom and you can spit it out." He was running his fingers through my hair, and it was slowly relaxing the knot in my gut. I felt like a fucking child.

My hands shook as I picked up the glass, but as the cool water slipped between my lips, the urge to swallow increased until I couldn't stand it anymore.

And it didn't hurt.

I swallowed and I didn't feel sick. My stomach didn't immediately reject it, either.

Carlisle kissed my forehead, rubbing my shoulders and trying to soothe me, not realising that I was okay.

"…I'm alright…" I whispered to him, scared to say the words in case it changed it. Nervous but needing to see if it was real, I took another careful bite, drinking immediately after and almost crying in relief as it went down. "Carlisle…"

Filling the glass again, despite it being mostly full, he continued to comfort me with hugs and kisses, smiling every time I glanced up at him in search of reassurance. I managed most of it before surrendering, turning to wrap my arms around him. I didn't even want to know what this looked like from the outside – no doubt people probably thought he was my carer or something – but I couldn't bring myself to care just yet.

"Finish your food, I'm okay," I told him, grinning and pleased with myself. Turns out I was a little too cocky. The meal didn't sit so well without my boyfriend's hands on me; he had taken away any self-consciousness I felt, but that all rushed back in when he was sitting across from me. Apparently, independence wasn't quite on the table yet.

"You're feeling alright?" he asked softly, reaching over to squeeze my fingers and brush his thumb over the back of my hand. "You've done so well."

I nodded, unable to resist as shy smile under his praise; I needed the reassurance. "Can we take coffee home, though? I'm not sure if I can handle too much more and I don't want to projectile vomit all over their floor; I like this café and I want to come back one day…"

Chuckling at my wording, he quickly finished his food, reaching for my hand as we made it to the door. I kissed the backs of our fingers and let him lead me into the street. It was starting to drizzle slightly on our way back home, making our hair damp, but I didn't mind it, too smug to care.

The longer we walked, the more I began to overthink it, suddenly no longer proud of myself and worried instead. My silence must have been a good indicator of my discomfort, because Carlisle noticed after a few minutes, running his hand down my back and sliding his arm around my waist.

.

.

I couldn't shake the heavy feeling. Sitting at home, I was digging my fingers into the couch to keep from picking my clothing to bits, watching Carlisle absentmindedly sketching something while he half-used his phone. It was a weird form of multi-tasking, and his attention wasn't fully captured by either thing, though the pencil in his hand seemed to hold precedence over the technology.

"What's the frown for?" he asked softly. I hadn't realised he was even aware of me; he was seemingly caught up in what he was doing. "Are you feeling sick?"

Shaking my head, I tried to decide on a way to approach the subject; the last thing I wanted was for it to come out as an accusation, and I was scared that was what my anxiety would make it sound like. "Carlisle…I know it went okay today, but I'm not ready to try anything that's too…" I trailed off, silently pleading with him to understand what I was trying to tell him.

"I'm not going to force you into a situation that makes you uncomfortable, Garrett," he assured me, glancing up from his drawing. "Don't worry, okay?"

Something dawned on me suddenly, and I groaned, feeling horrible. "Oh god…this is how you feel, isn't it? When I drag you out to my parents? And about Christmas? Fuck, Carlisle…"

He fell silent and looked away, while I drowned in guilt. There wasn't any way he could argue with me; we both knew it was true.

"I'm so sorry. I knew it was hard for you, but I didn't think for a second that- that- Carlisle, I'm sorry." I fell into the seat next to him, wrapping my arms around him to pull him into me. Thankfully, he melted into me like normal, and I hugged him tightly. "I'm so, so sorry."

Shifting a little so he could face me, he gently brought our lips together, his thumb brushing my cheek as he moved his hand to my hair. "It's not quite the same, I don't think…parents and Christmas are compulsory. Dinner dates are sweet, but it's more of an effort on your behalf, seeming as you don't have to do it if you don't want to."

"That makes it worse," I groaned again. "I promise that I'll take you out one day and-"

He cut me off with a kiss, sliding into my lap and fidgeting with the collar of my shirt. "I really don't care about all that, Garrett. Staying home and eating pizza in front of the TV is perfect. And as for Christmas…I'll…"

"We'll deal with it when it get here, yeah?"

He offered me a hopeful smile. After being quiet for a moment, I knew he was building up to ask me something, and I knew I really wasn't going to like it. "You never did tell me what you wanted for your birthday?"

"Carlisle." I tightened my fingers around his sleeves, barely resisting rolling him off me and back into the seat next to him. "You know how I feel about this; we've had this conversation."

"Yeah, yeah; you threatened to dump me and I ignored you, and then you refused to tell me what you want for Christmas," he recited innocently.

"Carlisle," I warned again, groaning.

As usual, he ignored my bad humour. "I've been on the phone to your mother, by the way. We have to be at your parent's place by two tomorrow, which means we have to leave here by eleven. I tried to talk her into letting us come later, because I know you're only going to bitch about getting up before lunch on your birthday, but that's as late as we could make and still call it lunch-"

"You called my mother?" I asked in disbelief, laughing a little out of shock.

"Well, actually, Sasha called me, but yeah, I guess so?"

"Since when are you two on first name basis?"

"Carmen and Eleazar must have given me a good reference?" The relief of being accepted by my family was written all over his face, and it had me grinning.

"They better have, considering how much their daughter loves you." I kissed his forehead. "And how much I love you."

"Ew, sappy…but I love you too." His lips brushed mine before he deepened the kiss. "…And it makes it easier…that Eleazar's family is so nice to me. I like them a lot, and Carmen is really sweet. She's lovely."

"Do we have a little bit of crush on Carmen?" I teased lightly, restraining a chuckle.

He rolled his eyes, but his cheeks did flush a little, and I couldn't help it, starting to laugh. "The only person I have a 'crush' on, Garrett, is you," he teased back, running his fingers through my hair as he unfolded himself from my lap to stand up. "Bed time; maybe getting a good night's sleep will make you less shitty about ageing tomorrow?"

"You're bloody lucky I'm not making you spend the night on the couch." It was supposed to be a complaint, but I was still laughing from before so it only came out as a chuckle. I wrapped my arms around him, tugging him down the hallway with me.

He could make me go to bed, but I'd be damned if I was going alone.