Work Text:
It was a little after eleven in the morning and despite the lovely day blooming outside her window, Mia was still holed up in her room. It was quite possibly her favorite place on earth, or at the very least, the most comfortable and soothing place on earth. Though Mia enjoyed being a part of a large family and passed more time with her parents and siblings in common areas of the home than most adolescents, she had always cherished her bedroom.
Mia loved her room in the Forks house most of all though. Not that there was anything wrong with the rooms she had in Alaska or New Hampshire or Chicago before that, but there was something so aesthetically pleasing about the expansive room with its wall of windows and the more mature décor Esme had helped her select after they’d moved.
But despite it being her favorite place, Mia didn’t love the upkeep involved with keeping it neat and tidy which was why she was still tucked away under the covers despite her mother’s gentle suggestion from two hours prior indicating that things looked as though they needed to be tidied.
Esme had said it innocently enough, almost as if she was offering her daughter nothing more than a possibility to consider, but it was the third weekend in a row she’d mentioned it, Esme's honey eyes scanning over the pile of clothes on the chair in the corner and the papers and books strewn across Mia's desk and the floor. And before Esme shut the door, she smiled and said, “Thank you, sweetheart,” so Mia knew not to bother even trying to do anything else until the dreaded deed was finally done.
She'd already been thanked for the effort she had yet to put in.
It wasn’t exactly that Mia hated cleaning, just that she knew herself and therefore knew it was a hefty endeavor she would be undertaking, one which could eat up the whole of her Saturday with ease because Mia never just cleaned her room. She removed everything from its place, reordering the books on her bookshelves and refolding the clothing stuffed haphazardly into her drawers.
And then she repositioned every piece of furniture.
And did the regular cleaning bits—the sweeping and mopping and dusting.
And put everything in its new proper place.
And it always took an entire day, a few hours of which were consumed by her simply thinking about the task she’d be assuming. Today the thinking had only taken her two hours rather than three.
Having finally decided on the new configuration for her furniture, Mia pushed off the covers and moved to the door. She’d need cleaning supplies and breakfast. She figured she was entitled to leave her room for that at least, but when she opened her door, Alice greeted Mia with a plate in her hand, the bucket of cleaning supplies set at the threshold to her room.
“Esme asked me to bring you this.”
“No coffee?” Mia groaned.
“Carlisle says you’ve been having too much.”
Mia was about to argue when Alice handed her the plate and disappeared, returning moments later with a mug.
“Green tea. A compromise.” Alice offered Mia a smile. “You’re planning on rearranging?”
Alice leaned a bit to see beyond her little sister and into the room as Mia rolled her eyes.
“You’ve gotten much too good at catching me when my guard is down.”
“I’m not trying. My mind is just attuned to the people I care about.” Alice reached out and tapped a finger on Mia’s nose. “But here.” Alice handed over the mug. “I should let you get to it.”
Mia used her foot to nudge the bucket with cleaning supplies over the threshold.
“The bed looks nice facing the windows,” Alice said over her shoulder while skipping down the hall, Mia’s hum the only answer provided as she tapped the door shut with her foot.
It was nearly two hours later when Mia halted her cleaning, the act of stopping almost like coming out of a fog, and she looked around the disaster that was her bedroom while Vivaldi played in the background.
She quite liked the juxtaposition of it, the music and the mess. Nearly every piece of furniture had been emptied of its contents with books and clothes and knickknacks covering her bed. The room was ready to be put back together.
Mia pushed herself off the floor and decided on dealing with the chair first. She planned to set it facing out at the windows. That was her plan for every piece of furniture she occupied—her desk, her bed, her reading chair. She wanted them all facing out at the yard so she could glance up from whatever she was doing and see outside straight away.
The chair only had to go from one corner to the next. She’d have to drag it, but she could easily manage on her own. Everything else might need a bit of assistance, but the chair she could manage. She bent down to get a grip and by the time she lifted, Carlisle was at her door.
“Why don’t you let me help with that?” he offered.
Mia shook her head. Her knees were already bent, her hands fit beneath the underside of one corner. “I’ve got it.”
“I’m sure you have, but—”
“It’s not heavy,” she said, lifting the corner up, “and I’m stronger than I look.”
Carlisle smiled. “I’m sure you are, but—”
“Dad, I’ve got—” The chair fell out of Mia’s grasp as she turned towards Carlisle, her bare foot shifting just enough that it slipped beneath the wooden base at the very same moment as Mia's fingers released it.
Carlisle had the chair off of her foot as quickly as it had landed, quicker probably, but Mia had already lowered herself to the floor, grasping the foot and whimpering as her eyes grew wet.
Carlisle kneeled beside his daughter and reached out towards her foot. He would need to get a look at it. The chair wasn’t terribly heavy, but Mia had dropped it from a distance. “I’ll need to—”
Mia shook her head and drew back from him. “Not yet,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Does it feel broken?”
Mia shook her head again, meeting his eye though her hands still covered the foot she’d drawn into her body.
“Will you let me see?"
At her silence, Carlisle lowered himself completely, sitting down beside her on the floor. “You know, if you truly didn’t want to clean your room, I’m sure your mother would have allowed you out of it without you having to incur an injury.”
“She wouldn’t even let me out of the room for breakfast,” Mia mumbled, “and she’s already thanked me.”
“She already thanked you? Well, I suppose injury was your only option, then.”
Mia tried to hide her smile. "I’ll only show you if you promise not to touch it.”
Carlisle smiled. “You know that I’ll need to, but I won’t until you’re ready.”
Mia didn’t answer, but scooted herself back and extended her foot towards her father with eyes closed.
“Are you ready?”
“Go ahead,” Mia muttered, wincing as his cold hands skimmed over the tender, inflamed skin.
“Well, it certainly won’t be the most pleasant sight to behold while it heals, but I don’t think it’s broken,” he said as he stood up from the floor. “Let’s see if you can bear weight.”
She slid her legs back into her body again, shaking her head. “Dad, I—”
Carlisle extended both hands down to her. “You can do it. You’re stronger than you look, remember?”