𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕨𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕟𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕣𝕖𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕥 𝕓𝕖𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕕

In light of Edward making 'the promise' that will come back to bite him hard in the ass at New Moon and because Steph and I talk of these things when left to our lonesome at my three am:

( Conversational Lead-up )

So even though I really, really, really wanted to write Golden Carlisle-Edward AU spawned by THIS -- as it's been in my head all freakin' day since I saw the picture this morning. To the point of blush worthy distraction while teaching four year olds -- this is once again proof that the headvoices care not what my focus of the moment is and write their own drabbles without my say so, because they can.

Maybe you'll get the peanut gallery Double E conversations’ too soonish but they can be rather heartful and heartless with each other in turns. So for now you get adorableness before I decide to start giving you play-by-plays of them learning to live with what I (and Steph and Canon) have given them both to live with.



2006;
I look for you, to light my heart

"Bella asked me about the two of you," Esme said, crossing from the closet, where her skirt and blouse had exchanged for a shift, to sit at the large dark, mahogany dresser.

"I had thought she might. Her determination with all the sides of this situation at the meeting spoke for itself." Carlisle had laid down on his lap the book he'd been skimming. His comment was evenly above board, while Bell's inquiry was by its own means singular in purpose and pursuit, even as it charged head long into places left alone.

He watched his wife brush her hair before he asked, quieter, "What did you say?"

Esme turned from the dresser, looking more, his expression gave away, at peace than he'd expected. She moved to sit on the bed at his side, taking the book from him. Her eyes stayed on him even as the dropped it on the bed table. "I told her in the scope of eternity, life and death, and love, become far larger than words can explain."

Carlisle brushed a curl back over her shoulder, before pulling his wife against his side. "What would I do without you?"

Esme curled into his arms, fitting as she always had and always would be amazed at. She loved her life and her husband. All that came with him, every piece of his complex simplicity. And it was with that thought, that she said, warmly content, against his chest. "You'll never have to find out."

Because it was months, maybe even years too early to even jokingly say wither away and die. Again.