Disclaimer: As always, the characters and their world belong to Stephenie Meyer. Any mistakes I have made interpreting them, are, of course, my own.
Note on the Series: I tend to write rather heavy fiction, both for myself and for fanfic. But every now and again I have inspiration for something whose whole point is just to be humorous. It is my hope that by having a place to throw these, I will be inspired to occasionally step back and bang out a little bit of funny. Enjoy!
Summary: When Carlisle picks up Edward and Alice from school, he discovers that his vocabulary is lacking a very important word.
Note on "Acronymy": This piece was originally written for ninapolitan's birthday in 2009, and as such, is dedicated to her. Authors from all over fandom chose one-word prompts and wrote fics for her. I, however, had an interesting conundrum—how does the writer who writes one of the most paternal canon Carlisles in fandom write a story for the woman who instantiated the original Hot Bitch? Well, I picked a word that that sums up ninapolitan's approach to our beloved blond doctor—DILF—and decided to see what my Carlisle would think of it. Here's the result.
acronymy (n.) The act of using or creating acronyms.
A school bus chugged at the curb, dumping its exhaust in the direction of the line of bored, tired parents. The thought of what carpool pick-up lines did to the human lung was disturbing, at best. I had the luxury of not breathing—the parents around me weren't so lucky.
As usual, the other parents granted me a fairly wide berth. A few offered a tentative wave, one, the father of a member of the football team whose fingers I had splinted the week before had given me a hearty, "It's good to see you, Dr. Cullen." But for the most part, they stayed away. Our family was unusual at best, and the whole of Forks seemed not to know what to make of the young surgeon and his wife and their five adopted teenagers who had just moved to town.
It was fine by me. The quieter we kept things, the longer we would stay.
This was the first time I'd had to come to the school for pick-up. The junior class was away on a field trip to Seattle to see the Royal Shakespeare Company present The Merchant of Venice. Alice and Edward, of course, were beyond capable of driving themselves home in the absence of Rosalie, Jasper, and Emmett—far more capable than the true fifteen-year-olds who sat in their classes—but these were the kinds of things we had to be careful of. According to the State of Washington, Alice and Edward were only learners, granted permits by being past their half-birthdays, but not fully licensed drivers.
And so I was here to fully support the charade; the father dutifully come to retrieve his children.
The final bell rang, and the high school buildings seemed to explode like hives of bees. Students came pouring out of every entrance—boys slapping one another, cuffing shoulders, and hollering obscenity-laden sentences about their homework loads; girls giggling over a cute football player or perhaps the shy boy in their English classes, and a handful of couples nervously holding hands. I leaned against the Mercedes as the students streamed past me, climbing into their second-hand cars and whizzing off with a dangerous ineptitude.
"That's Dr. Cullen. The new doctor."
My head snapped back toward the school at the sound of my name. Two girls, a shorter brunette and a slightly taller blonde, had emerged from one of the side exits, and were headed toward the parking lot. I saw the blonde lift a hand in greeting, and a light-haired woman several cars ahead of me waved in answer.
The two girls giggled, heads close together. They, of course, believed themselves to be having a perfectly private conversation, for which others of their friends' parents could hear them from two hundred yards away? I meant to tune them out—the invasion of the privacy of the humans around me through my heightened senses was an unfortunate reality that I tried my hardest to avoid. But their voices were too shrill, or perhaps it was because we were still too new, but I listened in anyway.
"Yeah, he's Edward's dad? And Alice's, and the ones who are juniors? The big one and the blonde and Alice's boyfriend." The blonde giggled.
"I wonder what he's doing here?" asked the other.
"Duh. The blonde always brings them, yeah? All the juniors are gone."
They both shot another glance in my direction, and immediately looked down and giggled when they saw I was looking their way.
"The juniors should be gone more often," said the brunette, a moment later.
"I know, right?" The blonde giggled, and then dropped her voice to a whisper so quiet I guessed even her friend had trouble hearing her. "He's a total dilf."
I felt my brow furrow. I worked to stay on top of slang, at least to the best of my abilities. But this was a term with which I was wholly unfamiliar. The girls drew closer, and both averted their eyes as they walked over to the now-idling minivan driven by the blonde's mother.
I jumped at the sound of Edward's voice, causing Alice to giggle.
"I'm sorry, did I startle you?" My son's question was polite, but his face was smug.
"I'm telling Esme," Alice teased. "They probably have a crush on you."
I shrugged, tossing Edward the keys. It was another very important part of the charade—although our family rarely fussed over who got behind the wheel, no human teenager with a learner's permit turned down the opportunity to drive.
"Trust me," I answered my daughter as the three of us climbed into the Mercedes, "Esme is in no position to fault a teenage girl for finding me attractive."
Alice giggled again from the back seat, and Edward just shook his head as he put the car into gear and left the parking lot.
"So, what were you thinking about?" he asked, when we were a ways from the school. "You seemed confused about something."
"Oh, it's nothing," I answered, looking out the window as we zipped past the last buildings on the outskirts of town. "Just a word I didn't know."
"A word you didn't know?" Alice giggled. "Do you hear that Edward? I think that's the sound of Hell, freezing over."
Edward smirked. "I have to say I'm surprised, Carlisle. What was the word?"
I frowned again, remembering the quiet whisper and the conspiratorial giggle. "It's nothing, really," I answered. "It's just that I was listening to the two girls—"
"—Jessica and Lauren," Alice supplied. "Go on."
As though she didn't know what I was about to ask.
"Well, they called me a" — the word sounded just as foreign in my head as it had on her lips— "dilf? What does that mean?"
My body was suddenly jolted as Edward yanked the wheel first to the left in shock, then quickly course-corrected. Alice burst out laughing.
"Could you warn me if he's going to ask something like that?" he spat, turning backward to give Alice the evil eye.
She smiled and stuck her tongue out at him. But neither answered the question.
I watched spruce trees whiz by for another half-mile before probing again.
Edward sighed, his brow pulling together. "Carlisle," he said finally, "you know how you often tell me that I would be better off not knowing some of the things I find out from people's thoughts?"
He nodded resolutely. "This…would be one of those kinds of things."
Alice laughed once more, and I didn't get a word out of either of them the rest of the way home.