Dr. Carlisle Cullen (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ofthefamily) wrote2009-03-17 07:41 pm
ofthefamily) wrote2009-03-17 07:41 pm
AU-as-I-ever-get Fic: Distraction
[ooc: From here.]
"Distract me please?"
Edward's hand to Carlisle's forehead, held there by Carlisle's own hand and his own frustration at the thoughts flying through the house he never planned on hearing, clenches into a hard fist. Esme had her reasons; they weren't even inconsiderate ones.
No matter what anyone tried to do, Carlisle hurt. His compassion was his flaw just as much as it was his talent.
A slow surge of memory. Ohio and the discoveries there; the pride Edward felt daily from Carlisle watching him pursuing a medical degree; the signet ring Carlisle gave Edward that never left him until Esme's joining the family --
Ilium Sacrum Iliac Crest Iliac Fossa
-- Carlisle's breathing falters and remains uneven watching Edward's perfect memory take them back to the house in Columbus. He remembers the events in Edward's mind on his own, but this is different. Better, clearer, because it's both of them. Edward saw Carlisle's every thought then, and now, watching the memory again makes it feel amplified and stronger. Edward's hand drops from Carlisle's grasp when he sees the older vampire lose himself in the memory of their simpler years -- traveling when they pleased, how they pleased, less complex and dangerous.
Edward keeps the memory going. Eighty-seven years taught him more control than Carlisle's had the chance to pursue in the single day that he has been able to hear thoughts. The memory of Edward tugging, fumbling at Carlisle's belt and shirt on the bed in that barely lived-in house consumes Carlisle's senses. Edward's hands on his chest and Edward thinking please Carlisle the way he would never say aloud but now that Carlisle has crossed that barrier nothing is kept from him.
Thank you for making me like you -- loving me -- trusting me to do what's right --
"I..." I always trusted you, Carlisle thinks when he can form a sentence, lost as he is in the cascade of thoughts. He's watching Edward strip and climb over him. He forces Carlisle to stop thinking - apologizing - just go - and it was all fine. Carlisle was loved for the first time in centuries, loved. God damn.
When Carlisle's eyes open he's not even surprised when he finds he has to button his shirt back up and straighten his tie. The blond man and the bronze-haired boy kiss the way they both feel they both missed each other, hands in hair and grasping.
Others in the house heard them, theorized. No one knew for certain and nobody cared. Carlisle and Edward's relationship was their own. Older than all of them - Carlisle kisses Esme with ease when the telepathy subsides.
"Distract me please?"
Edward's hand to Carlisle's forehead, held there by Carlisle's own hand and his own frustration at the thoughts flying through the house he never planned on hearing, clenches into a hard fist. Esme had her reasons; they weren't even inconsiderate ones.
No matter what anyone tried to do, Carlisle hurt. His compassion was his flaw just as much as it was his talent.
A slow surge of memory. Ohio and the discoveries there; the pride Edward felt daily from Carlisle watching him pursuing a medical degree; the signet ring Carlisle gave Edward that never left him until Esme's joining the family --
Ilium Sacrum Iliac Crest Iliac Fossa
-- Carlisle's breathing falters and remains uneven watching Edward's perfect memory take them back to the house in Columbus. He remembers the events in Edward's mind on his own, but this is different. Better, clearer, because it's both of them. Edward saw Carlisle's every thought then, and now, watching the memory again makes it feel amplified and stronger. Edward's hand drops from Carlisle's grasp when he sees the older vampire lose himself in the memory of their simpler years -- traveling when they pleased, how they pleased, less complex and dangerous.
Edward keeps the memory going. Eighty-seven years taught him more control than Carlisle's had the chance to pursue in the single day that he has been able to hear thoughts. The memory of Edward tugging, fumbling at Carlisle's belt and shirt on the bed in that barely lived-in house consumes Carlisle's senses. Edward's hands on his chest and Edward thinking please Carlisle the way he would never say aloud but now that Carlisle has crossed that barrier nothing is kept from him.
Thank you for making me like you -- loving me -- trusting me to do what's right --
"I..." I always trusted you, Carlisle thinks when he can form a sentence, lost as he is in the cascade of thoughts. He's watching Edward strip and climb over him. He forces Carlisle to stop thinking - apologizing - just go - and it was all fine. Carlisle was loved for the first time in centuries, loved. God damn.
When Carlisle's eyes open he's not even surprised when he finds he has to button his shirt back up and straighten his tie. The blond man and the bronze-haired boy kiss the way they both feel they both missed each other, hands in hair and grasping.
Others in the house heard them, theorized. No one knew for certain and nobody cared. Carlisle and Edward's relationship was their own. Older than all of them - Carlisle kisses Esme with ease when the telepathy subsides.