Just a little more of Daddy C and shy Edward... home for the holidays.
Standard warnings apply... Daddy stuff. Twilight not mine, etc.
Thanks to SuperKannen for beta'ing this for me at a moment's notice. Over the phone, no less.
"Babe?" I call, tossing my keys down on the mail table. I loosen my tie, grateful to be home, if only for a few minutes before we leave for the holidays. "Edward?"
"In here," he calls. I follow his voice to the kitchen and find him wearing oven mitts while bending over and lifting a sheet from the oven. "I made sandwiches. I didn't think you'd want a big dinner before we go."
"It smells amazing in here," I tell him. He makes these baked Italian subs for me at least once a week. I don't realize how hungry I am until I can smell the food, and suddenly my mouth is watering. Edward turns away to lift the sandwiches onto plates and I walk up behind him, pressing my body to his and kissing the side of his neck. "Hi."
"Hey," he says, turning his head for a proper kiss. I love that he's always here when I get home; Edward still has an apartment, but in name only; he only goes there once a week, to pick up his mail. I've asked him to move in with me, but I think he's still clinging to the safety of having his own place. I can't really blame him, with his history, but I hope he changes his mind someday.
He tells me about his day while we eat, and I tell him about a few of my patients. We make quick work of the sandwiches, but it's still almost seven by the time we're done. I check my watch and groan when I see the time.
"What's wrong?" Edward asks, stacking our plates as he clears the table.
"By the time I pack and wrap those last few presents, it's gonna be after eight, at least. We won't get there til eleven," I explain. "I'd better get moving."
"Oh," Edward says, shrugging his shoulders. "I did all that this afternoon."
"What?" I ask, surprised.
"I wrapped the presents for your brother and your nieces, and put them all in the bags under the tree. And I was packing my things, so I just packed yours too," he tells me. "I mean, you should look and make sure I got everything you want. But I did most of it."
My heart warms a little bit-not just because of Edward's caring gesture. It was sweet of him to do those things for me, of course, but what really makes me happy is that he took the initiative to do them. For so long he's been tentative, acting like a guest in my home, walking on eggshells. It took me weeks to get him to stop asking permission to use my toothpaste. The fact that he's acting like he lives here-like he's my partner-is really touching.
"Thank you," I tell him, following him to the kitchen. "Really. It means a lot to me."
He sets the dishes in the sink and turns to me, reaching out for a hug. I let him pull me in close and tilt my head down into his neck, breathing him in.
"I like taking care of you," he says quietly. He's told me before that he worries that he asks me for too much, takes too much. I think he's finally starting to see that I need him too.
"Time to wake up, Ed," I tell him, reaching over to squeeze his thigh. He's curled up against the window, using his hoodie for a pillow.
"Are we there?" he asks, sitting up and stretching. The drive to Forks is boring but Edward's been up since four this morning; instead of pestering him to keep me company I decided to let him sleep. Especially since I know my family won't let us get to bed for a few hours.
"Almost," I answer. "I thought you might want a minute to wake up."
"Yeah," he says, covering a yawn. "Thanks." He unfolds his sweatshirt and pulls it on over his arms. He relaxed enough to sleep for about an hour, but I can tell his nerves are coming back tenfold.
"They're gonna love you," I promise, taking his hand. "Just remember that my family is a little... well, I guess you could say that they lack boundaries. And they're loud. Well, not my parents, or Alice. Just Emmett. But he's loud enough for all of us."
"Okay," Edward says, clinging to my hand.
"If it gets to be too much, just... I don't know. Wink at me, or something. I'll take care of you."
"I know," he says, leaning over the console to rest his head on my shoulder. "I know you will."
He doesn't straighten up until we pull into my parents' driveway. The house I grew up in is large, sprawling, but by no means modern. My father spends a lot of time patching holes, repairing banisters, and replacing floorboards. The setting is worth it, though-the house is surrounded by woods and backs up to a stream. I feel that familiar sense of relief that always comes when I'm home-like I'm not in the real world anymore, like I've left my worries behind.
"Wow," Edward whispers, ducking low to look up through the windshield at the second floor of the house. I watch as he takes in the white siding, the worn green shutters, the candles glowing in every window. "It's so pretty... and it's so big."
"It's not that big," I counter. "Remember there are six adults and three kids here this week. You'll be feeling crowded in no time."
He waits until I step out before unbuckling his seat belt and following me to the back of the car; just as I lift the first of our bags out of the trunk, the front door opens wide.
"You made it," my dad says, stepping out onto the porch in his slippers. He looks good, but my eyes automatically flicker to the subtle changes in his appearance. I take an inventory every time I come home-a few more gray hairs, some wrinkles I never noticed before, new bifocals. He's only in his early sixties, but I can't stop myself from worrying about him.
"Roads were clear," I tell him, setting my duffel bag back down in the trunk. Dad makes his way to us and holds his arms open, pulling me into a hug.
"Good to see you, son," he says, squeezing me tightly. My parents have always been big on affection; in the Cullen family, one never says hello or goodbye without a hug.
"You too, Dad," I tell him, pulling back. I reach behind me, take Edward's hand in mine, and pull him closer. "This is Edward."
My boy is positively trembling. He lifts his head to make eye contact with my dad, offering his right hand in greeting.
"It's nice to..." he starts, but his voice is scratchy and tight. "It's nice to meet you, Sir," he says, after clearing his throat.
"Welcome, Edward," my dad says, ignoring Edward's outstretched hand. He wraps his arm around Edward's shoulder instead and guides him up the path towards the house. "Tell me, did Carlisle stop to show you Crescent Lake?"
Edward looks back at me, eyes wide and panicked, and I shrug and smile in apology. I wait for him to wink, but he just turns back to my dad and answers his questions.
I set about unpacking the car, lifting the straps of our travel bags over my shoulders and trying to gather all the gifts in my hands so I don't have to make two trips.
"You look like a pack mule," I hear, Emmett's voice booming across the darkened driveway.
"Well come here and help me, ass," I challenge. He hops down the driveway barefoot, practically jogging to protect his feet from the cold concrete. I reach out to hug him, but he ignores my intention and slaps my hand away just so he can quote his favorite movie.
"Brothers don't shake hands... brothers gotta hug!" he exclaims, wrapping his arms around me awkwardly and lifting me off my feet. "Here, let me help you with this stuff," he offers, lifting the smallest, lightest bag from my grasp and turning back towards the house.
"I missed you, Em," I tell him, shaking my head. My younger brother-who is a few inches taller than me and weighs at least fifty pounds more-never really grew up. His immaturity is balanced by his kindness, though, and we all love him just as he is.
"So is that your boyfriend in there or did you like, adopt a Bosnian orphan?" he asks, the first joke of what I imagine will be dozens about the age difference between Edward and me.
"Shhh," I deadpan. "I'm not supposed to talk about it until the paperwork goes through."
Emmett helps me deposit all the bags in my old bedroom before wandering off to check on the kids, and I move downstairs in search of Edward and the rest of my family. I find him in the kitchen with my parents and my baby sister.
"It was a nice drive," he says softly. "I've never been on the ferry before." He smiles when he sees me walk in the room, relieved that I've found him again.
"Carlisle!" Mom exclaims, abandoning the cookies she's icing. She hugs me and kisses both my cheeks before taking my face in her hands to examine me for injury or illness the way she always does. "I'm just talking to your Edward," she says, adding in a whisper, "he's shy."
"He is," I whisper back, kissing her forehead. Alice attacks me next, and I scoop her up and twirl her around. I never stopped thinking of her as my baby sister-probably because she's so much younger than Emmett and I and still so petite.
"You look good, old man," she says, waggling her eyebrows.
"You too, little one," I tease. "Where's your boyfriend? Paul, right?" I ask, intentionally getting the name wrong. I like to joke about her revolving door of boyfriends-every relationship is "totally serious" and each one lasts about three months.
"You know it's not Paul," she admonishes, slapping at me with a tea towel. "It's Jasper, and he's asleep. Emmett made Jasper work out with him this morning and he's a little, uh, tired."
"I'm so sad that I missed that," I say, rolling my eyes. "Hope Jasper learned his lesson," I add. Alice huffs and bids us all goodnight, stomping off to bed.
Edward seems happy to no longer be the center of attention. He's flattened himself against the wall next to the refrigerator, his hands shoved into his pockets, and he's just quietly observing.
"Okay?" I mouth, and he nods in return. "Come here," I add silently, settling into the seat at the kitchen counter that Alice had vacated. He walks a little closer but hovers a few feet away from me.
I spread my knees and reach out for him, wanting him closer. Even though he's not freaking out, I know he's nervous.
He's awkward, reluctant to get too close as my mother resumes questioning him. When I can reach him, finally, I wrap my fingers around his wrist and tug him against me. He finally relaxes in my arms, leaning his weight against my thigh and tucking his head into my shoulder.
"Awww, sweetie, are you tired?" My mom asks.
"A little," Edward answers, blushing as he lifts his head.
"Carlisle, why are you keeping the boy awake? Go to bed already, it's late!" she admonishes, slapping at my hand when she sees me trying to sneak a cookie.
"No, Mrs. Cullen, it's okay. I took a nap in the car," Edward says.
"Call me Evelyn, darling. Here, have a cookie," she offers, handing him a freshly frosted sugar cookie.
"Not fair," I mutter, ignoring my mother's raised eyebrow. There's nothing like being in my parents' house for twenty minutes to make me feel like a child again.
"So Edward, how is it that you've lived in Seattle your whole life and you've never been on a ferry?" Mom asks, sliding a cookie towards me, too.
"Um, I guess I just... never went anywhere, really," Edward says, shuffling from one foot to the other. I rest my chin on his shoulder and squeeze his hand. I haven't told my parents anything about Edward's background, and I'm starting to regret not giving them a heads up.
"No family vacations?" she asks, picking up a bowl of green icing to add to the red she's already spread on the cookies.
"No..." Edward says, curling his shoulders in a little.
"Edward lived in foster care most of his life, Mom," I tell her, keeping my tone casual. "Not a lot of family vacations or anything. So let's try not to overwhelm him with... Cullen-ness."
Mom stops icing the cookies, her eyes flickering back and forth between me and Edward, and I can see the empathy in her eyes. She probably wants to hug him, kiss his cheeks, and smother him with some love, but Edward's cheeks are bright red and he's looking away from us. Wisely, my mother goes back to icing cookies and tries to lighten the mood.
"I don't know what you're talking about, son," she says, scratching her cheek. She accidentally-on-purpose leaves a streak of green icing from her nose down to her chin, and I have to bite my lip to suppress a smile. "Edward, do you like pancakes, sweetheart? I was going to make some for breakfast."
He swallows hard and lifts his head to answer her, his eyes popping wide open when he sees the green line down her face. "Mrs. Cullen, you have-"
"I told you, it's Evelyn," she says.
"Evelyn, you have some icing on your face," he says, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile.
"Oh, really?" she says, reaching up to pat at her face. She wipes at the wrong side, smearing a green mess over the apple of her cheek. "Is that better?"
I can't hold it in any longer and start laughing. Edward joins in, wrapping an arm around my neck affectionately. God bless my mother and her cookie-baking and tension-dissolving skills.
Edward walks to the sink, wets a tea towel, and helps my mother clean off the icing. She gives him another cookie as a reward and sends us to bed, arguing that Emmett's kids are going to force us to wake up early whether we want to or not.
Edward is clingy when we get to bed, crawling under the covers and curling his body around mine. He's wearing boxers and a t-shirt, a lot more than he usually wears at home, but he says he feels more comfortable this way away from home.
I know he's been so nervous about meeting my family, but I think it went well. He's still tense though, his fingers digging into my shoulder as he presses his body close to mine, burrowing into my shoulder.
"I told you they'd love you," I whisper, stroking his back firmly.
"I haven't met all of them," he says, his voice muffled in my shirt.
"Just Rosalie and the kids left," I tell him. "Oh, and Alice's flavor of the month."
"That's mean," he says, draping his leg over my hip to get closer.
"We all tease her," I tell him. "She's just young and doesn't know what she wants."
He's quiet, all warm and tense around me, his breath coming too fast to really be relaxed.
"She's older than me," he whispers. I wince, realizing that he's taking my words and applying them to our relationship.
"Edward, baby," I tell him, rolling him onto his back. I loosen his hands from around my neck just enough, just until I have room to pull myself up and look into his eyes. "Alice is... Alice. She's not serious and she's not shy about giving her heart away. She's not like you..."
"Do they think I'm too young?" he asks, resting his hand lightly on my shoulder. The pad of his thumb brushes my neck just above the collar of my t-shirt, and I shiver at the softness of his touch.
"All I've told them about you is that you make me insanely happy," I tell him, smiling. I lean down to press a kiss to his cheek, my lips glancing the corner of his mouth. "That's enough for them. You don't have to worry about not being good enough. They just want to get to know you."
His hands start to wander, down over my t-shirt to my waist and back up again, under the fabric. I shudder at his hand exploring my skin, squeezing my waist and up my side.
I lie down on my side next to him, humming quietly in pleasure as his hand moves over my chest and then down lower, under the waistband of my pajama pants, to draw small circles on my hip.
"I'm still nervous," he says, his eyes locked on his hand as he pushes my t-shirt up, exposes more skin.
"Don't be," I tell him, leaning in for a long, slow kiss.
"I might say the wrong thing," he argues, shaking his head so his nose brushes against mine.
"We all do sometimes," I explain, dropping my head down to his neck. I drop slow, wet kisses down the column of his throat as I explain. "We disagree and we argue and we apologize and we move on. That's just what we do. You don't have to worry about saying anything wrong, Edward. You're safe here."
He clutches me tighter. "Promise?" he says, his voice wavering.
"Edward, what do you think is going to happen?" I ask, dragging my lips back up to his cheek. I kiss him once more and pull away, stroking his hair gently as I wait for him to find the words.
"Nothing... It's just hard to let my guard down," he whispers, "with... people. With families."
It's always these quiet moments, late at night, when Edward confides his deepest fears. That he's never felt like he had a home. That he's never felt loved. That he's afraid of being himself for fear that any family-even my family-will reject him.
"Baby," I comfort him, rolling onto my back. I pull Edward with me, letting him rest his head on my chest so I can play with his hair. "I told you, it's you and me. We're a family no matter what. And as I long as I love you, I promise that the rest of my family will love you too."
"I love you," he says quietly, his fingers drawing circles on my side again. He turns his head to kiss my chest, my nipple, down over my stomach, all while his hand is circling closer and closer to the waistband of my pants.
"Ed, are you sure..." I start, reaching down to still his hand, but he moves faster than me. Before I can stop him his hand is in my pants, his warm fingers encircling my growing erection.
"So sure," he says, covering my quivering stomach in the smallest, sweetest kisses. "I need you," he adds.
"Come here," I beg, pulling him up by his elbows. He slides up my body, his smooth chest gliding over mine, and kisses me passionately. He straddles my thigh and I feel his cock pressing against it, getting harder as he wiggles against me.
"Need my Daddy," he pants, pulling his lips away from mine.
"I know," I tell him, wrapping my arms around his waist. I know he needs to feel small and safe and loved, and I always, always want to give him what he needs. We kiss long and hard, tongues tangling and teeth clashing, until Edward's wiggling turns into a steady rhythm of grinding against my leg. I grip his hips and lift him off of me, rolling him back onto the bed at my side.
"Fuck," he moans, whimpering quietly as I climb over him and settle between his legs.
"Shhh, baby," I tell him, kissing his soft, pink lips. "Quiet."
He lifts his head from the pillow, just enough to bring his lips to my ear. "Yes, Daddy," he breathes, nipping at my earlobe.
We rock together, cocks hard and sliding against each other through layers of fabric, lips kissing and whispering and worshipping. The only sounds in the room are my words of encouragement and Edward's desperate little moans.
"It's so loud," I groan, rolling off of Edward again. He sticks his bottom lip out in a pout before scrambling to his feet. He fumbles in his overnight bag for a minute and then walks to my side of the bed.
"Come here," he says, reaching for my hand and pulling me up. I let him pull me a few feet away, to my old, battered desk. The one where I sat for hours in high school, writing papers on Shakespeare and the Russian revolution and God knows what else.
Edward pulls his t-shirt off and tosses it to the floor before leaning back against the desk. I waste no time in attacking his bare skin with my lips, kissing and nipping down his chest. I bite and suck at his nipples, teasing one with my teeth while I pinch the other with my fingers.
"Daddy," he moans, trying to slip his hand into mine. "Carlisle," he hisses, drawing my attention away from his body.
He's pressing something into my hand-a small bottle of lube and a condom.
"Fuck me? Like this?" he asks, wrapping his legs around mine.
"I think the desk might bang against the wall," I whisper, thrusting my hips hard against his to test my theory. It's quiet, but it's there-just a small thump that would only get louder as we moved together faster.
"But I need you to fuck me, Daddy," he breathes, his voice high and innocent, his wide eyes making my cock twitch. He loves this game, loves to ham it up now that he knows I'm just as into it as he is.
"Such a good boy," I tell him, lowering my mouth to his for another long, searing kiss. "Hop down," I instruct him, when we finally break apart. "Put your arms on the desk. There you go," I soothe, putting my hand flat between his shoulder blades and pushing him forward.
I kneel down behind him and slide his boxers down over his hips, throwing them in the same direction that he threw his shirt. I can't help but tease him, kissing and licking at his ankles, his calves, his knees. I kiss up his thighs and over his smooth, round cheeks, reaching between his legs to ghost my fingers over his balls as I move up his body.
"God, yes," he says, dropping his head down between his arms.
I spend a long time touching him, opening him and relaxing him with slick fingers. I need it to be easy and gentle, I need Edward to be quiet, and I don't want him to be uncomfortably sore tomorrow.
"Ready," he mumbles, long before I'm ready to fuck him.
"Please?" he says, a few minutes later.
"Daddy, please," he chokes, his need causing his voice to break. That's when I know he can't take any more teasing, any more preparation. He needs me inside him, connected to him, narrowing all of his focus to this one sensation.
"Good boy," I whisper, stroking his spine with my free hand. I wipe the excess lube off on my pajama bottoms and shuck them, stepping close to Edward and lining us up. "Can you be quiet, sweet boy?"
"Yes, Daddy," he whines, pushing back against me. I let him take control, holding my cock steady as he pushes back against me. He sighs softly when I'm halfway in, his muscles relaxing as we move together slowly, leisurely.
He holds us steady, his palms flat against the desktop preventing him from slipping, and I fuck him firmly, with long, hard strokes.
I want him to come, I want to reach over his hip and grab his dick and watch his body tremble and give in under me. I want him to shudder and tense and squeeze my cock and bring me with him.
But this time, I can't last. This time, having him here in this room, where I spent my teenage years fantasizing about doing exactly this... it's too much for me. I'm gripping his hips, fucking him hard, and before I can even think about getting Edward off I'm spilling into the condom. I bite my lip to keep from crying out, a sharp gasp the only sound that escapes from my lips.
I breathe deeply, trying to regain control, and pull out of Edward. With shaking hands I tug the condom off, knot it, and toss it into the trash can. He's still bent over the desk, breathing fast and looking at me over his shoulder.
Embarrassed at finishing so quickly and unsteady from my intense orgasm, I back away until my knees hit the bed, and then I slide down to the floor.
"I'm sorry," I tell him, raking my fingernails through the carpet below me.
"No," he says, straightening up. He moves over to me, stands over my legs, and lowers himself down to my lap. "No saying you're sorry," he tells me, throwing my own words back in his face. The words I've murmured to him countless times, reassuring and loving him.
"Feel how hard you made me," he says, reaching for my hand. He brings it between our bodies, down to his cock. "You got me so close, Daddy. Make me cum like this, please? Let me sit on your lap?"
"My good boy," I whisper, wrapping my fingers around him. He shudders and sighs, leaning back to give me better access. "You're right. So smart, so sweet."
"Love you," he whispers, tilting his head back.
"Always," I tell him, brushing my thumb against his head, against that sensitive little strip on the underside of his cock that always drives him crazy. "Love you always. You're safe with me, so safe."
"Mmm," he moans, gripping my shoulder hard. "I'm gonna... Oh, God, I'm gonna..."
"Come for Daddy, sweet boy. Come so hard," I beg him. I reach behind him with my free hand, slipping two fingers inside him where he's still slick and ready for me.
"Yes, Daddy!" he groans, his mouth and his eyes opening wide as his orgasm hits him. "Yes, yes, yes," he moans.
"Shhh, baby," I remind him, letting him rock back and forth between my two hands as his orgasm plays out.
He collapses against me and I hold him for a few minutes, stroking his hair and kissing his neck. "You okay?" I ask, when he finally starts to lift himself off me.
"Yeah," he says, smiling shyly as he helps me up off the floor. "I needed that. Needed you."
"I always need you," I tell him, kissing his cheek before he darts off to the bathroom to clean up.
When I open my eyes in the morning, my first thought is that I'm so glad Edward and I both cleaned up and got dressed last night before we fell asleep.
Because my five year old niece is staring back at me.
"Uncle Carlisle?" Jamie whispers.
"Hi, Bug," I whisper back, reaching out to tap her nose. She giggles and then covers her mouth at the sound.
"Is it Christmas?" she asks, and my eyes flicker to the clock. Seven-thirty.
"Not yet," I tell her. "Tomorrow. Does your mom know you're up here?"
"No," she says, giggling again. "Who is that man?" she asks, standing on her tip toes so she can see Edward lying on the other side of me.
"That's Edward," I tell her. "He's my boyfriend."
"Oh," she says. "Does he like puzzles?"
"I think he does," I tell her. "He likes sleeping, too. Why don't you and I go see about some orange juice?"
She skips out of my bedroom and down the hall, stopping every few feet to make sure I'm following. We make it to the kitchen and I find pretty much everyone else-with the exception of Alice and whatever-his-name-is-already awake.
"Jamie, did you wake up your uncle?" Rosalie asks, frowning at her daughter.
"No," she answers, shaking her head wildly.
"Technically speaking, she did not," I elaborate. "She just stood next to my bed until I opened my eyes."
"I told you to stay in the den with your brother and sister!" Rosalie says, grabbing Jamie's hand. She pauses to kiss my cheek, adding "Sorry, C. Merry Christmas."
"It's not a problem," I tell her, patting Jamie on the head as Rosalie leads her into the den. I pour myself a cup of coffee, wincing at the taste and wishing Edward had made it.
I sit in the kitchen with Mom, Dad, Emmett, and Rose, drinking coffee and eating fruit salad, for an hour or so before I start to worry about Edward. It's not like him to sleep in, even on his day off.
I head back up to my bedroom but find it empty. He's not in the bathroom, either, or in any of the other rooms upstairs. Confused, I make my way back downstairs and look in each of the rooms in turn.
Finally I follow the peal of giggles to the den, peeking my head inside just in time to see Edward, wearing a pair of my old track pants and a Forks High sweatshirt, dump a huge box of puzzle pieces on the floor.
"Hey," I greet him, making him aware of my presence.
"Morning," he says, grinning. "Jamie woke me up. She said you told her I love puzzles."
"I said I think you like puzzles," I clarify, sitting on the floor across from the two of them.
"Well lucky for Jamie, you were right," he says, flipping the individual pieces of cardboard over so they're all right side up before getting to work.
Throughout the day, I find that Edward's shyness is really only a barrier in groups; when he takes my family on one by one, he wins them over with his kindness and quiet calm. I'm shocked when he even volunteers to accompany Emmett to the Shop n Save for a few last minute items Mom wants for Christmas dinner.
"Want me to come, too?" I ask, offering to abandon the game of chess I'm playing with Dad.
"No, it's okay," Edward says, leaning down to kiss my cheek.
They're gone for almost an hour, and I'm on the edge of my seat the whole time. Emmett can take the teasing too far sometimes; we all have thick skins after years of his jokes, but Edward might get his feelings hurt.
I have no idea what transpires on that trip to the grocery store, but when they come back they're thick as thieves. I'm sitting on the couch, reading on my Kindle, when they stomp through the door.
"Thanks for the help, Jailbait," Emmett calls, clapping Edward on the shoulder as he carries two plastic bags into the kitchen.
"No problem, Prom King," Edward answers, a silly smile on his face as he approaches me.
"Are you going to tell me what that's all about?" I ask, pulling him into my lap.
"Maybe later," he says, nuzzling me sweetly.
"Are you having fun?" I ask, brushing my fingers up and down his spine.
"Yeah," he says. "They're not so scary."
"No," I whisper.
"They all love you," he tells me, one finger tracing the peaks and valleys of my knuckles.
"Despite all my flaws," I tease, flipping my hand over to capture Edward's.
"And you love me," he says, squeezing my hand.
"Yes, I do," I promise, looking into his eyes.
"Forever?" he asks.
"Forever," I confirm.
"Okay then," he says, resting his head against my shoulder.
I feel like he's telling me that he sees it now; that he finally understands how we're meant to be together, how he fits into my life perfectly.
"You know what I want?" I ask, slipping my fingers under his shirt to warm up his skin, still cold from being outdoors.
"What?" Edward asks, tilting his head back to look up at me.
"I want us to come here for Christmas every year. I want us to bring our kids here, and I want our kids to play with Emmett and Alice's kids, and I want it to be loud and crazy and fun like it was when I was little. And I want... well, I really hope that eventually this place feels like your home, too."
"I hope so too. That sounds... it sounds like everything I've always wanted," he whispers. "To have a big family and Christmas traditions and all that. It sounds nice."
"It will be, baby. It will be," I assure him.
He's quiet for a minute, playing with the buttons on my shirt.
"My lease is up in March," he says. It's the first time he's even brought up the subject of his apartment.
"Yeah?" I ask, trying to keep my tone casual.
"Yeah," he confirms. "I was thinking maybe... if you still want me to..."
"I still want you to," I tell him, cutting him off. I kiss him passionately, unable to control my excitement.
"You're sure you're okay with sharing your place?" he asks, when I finally pull away to let him breathe.
"It's our place, Edward. It already is. It didn't feel like a home until you came into my life, anyway. I hate it when you're not there," I whisper, squeezing him tight.
"Okay," he says. "I'll give up my apartment."
We snuggle for a few minutes, listening to the sounds of the kids shrieking from the kitchen, of my mom humming as she sets the dining room table.
"It feels good," Edward says, his lips moving against my neck. "To feel like... like I belong somewhere."
"You do, baby," I answer, sighing in contentment. "You belong with me, always."
Awww. It's a bit schmoopy, but Edward deserves some schmoopiness in his life, IMO. Please review and let me know what you think.
This is all I have planned for these boys for now... but I reserve the right to revisit them if I feel like it. :)