Work Text:
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Thanks for the hangover package.
You are quite welcome.
———
That’s how it starts. Charlie isn’t usually a texter, but once Carlisle gets a hold of his number, there are almost daily check-ins. Jesus, hasn’t this guy ever been drunk? He’s fine. He doesn’t need a babysitter. Charlie tries not to find it kinda nice that someone cares.
Charlie. Esme tells me you might
have many things to purchase in
preparation for Isabella’s arrival.
I would like to offer my
assistance in the procuring of
these items. Esme would come
too, but she despises shopping
malls.
Charlie squints at his phone while sitting on the floor of Bella’s room. Currently, he’s touching up the paint on her baseboards because he actually has been avoiding going out to buy the things he needs for her. How did the bastard know?
Bella’s room hasn’t changed much since she was here last. There are old art projects littering the walls and a Care Bear comforter on her bed. He should probably replace that. She’s seventeen, not seven. He stares into the flat eyes of the little painted dog on Bella’s bedside table and starts to laboriously type back.
Sure. Was planning on going to Port Angeles this weekend.
Would you like me to drive?
Charlie pauses. Why not?
Ok.
He tosses his phone onto the bed and goes back to contemplating the baseboards, keeping his mind from venturing to the weekend.
———
The day is cold and gloomy, as usual. Charlie is shivering outside of a Bed Bath and Beyond, waiting for Carlisle to return from parking the car. Apprehensively, he looks at the gaggle of Saturday shoppers clogging the surrounding side walks. Fuck, he hates people.
“There you are,” Charlie startles and turns to see Carlisle holding a large cup with the Starbucks logo emblazoned on the side. Smiling, he wordlessly hands Charlie the coffee. It leaches warmth into his frozen fingers.
“Thanks,” he can feel his cheeks heat. It’s just from the cold, he tells himself.
“Shall we?” Carlisle looks at the store then back to Charlie. He sighs and nods.
———
“What about this one?” Carlisle holds up a bright pink comforter. “It is quite soft!” He seems to be enjoying himself. The store attendant Carlisle had commandeered to help them nods seriously, inspecting the material.
“Uh. Bella’s not really a pink girl,” she seems to favor more earthy tones in her clothing choices. Similar to her father, she’s not really into fashion. “Maybe brown?” Both Carlisle and the attendant, Mary her badge says, look unconvinced.
“If you want something less bright, why not plum?” Mary lifts some purple bedding with subtle dark flowers on it. Carlisle’s face brightens.
“Perfect! Muted, yet feminine,” he turns to Charlie, who shrugs. Good enough. He thinks Bella likes flowers, plus he’s ready to go home.
———
Charlie has never been in such a nice car. Cars. Shit. He needs to buy one for Bella. She needs to be able to get around. Have her freedom. Charlie doesn’t want her to feel like he’s stifling her. Jacob is always tinkering with shit, he’ll ask Billy what he can do.
There is soothing piano music emanating from the car's pristine speakers. His gaze flicks to his companion, who has a small smile on his lips.
“My son, Edward, wrote this. He is quite the composer,” sounds like the kinda moody stuff the kid would write.
“It’s nice,” if Charlie liked classical music, he’s sure he would appreciate it more. He doubts Carlisle would appreciate him asking for Creedence Clearwater Revival instead of his son’s creation. There is a reason Charlie has never thrown out any of Bella’s shitty art pieces.
“Charlie,” he snaps out of his reverie. “I know you are worried about your daughter's arrival, but I am sure it will be alright. And if you need someone to talk to, I am here.” Charlie feels his cheeks heating.
“Thanks. I… I’m not great at feeling or communication or whatever. Neither is Bella, I guess. I hope that. That I can be all she needs from me.”
“I am sure you will be,” Carlisle says gently.
“And I wanted to say,” come on Charlie. “Thank you. For coming with me today. And for everything,” he hopes Carlisle knows what everything entails: nights of drinking at Wayne’s, the presents, the hangover cure, his kindness, and most of all his evident care for Charlie. “If you ever need anything. I wanted you to know, you can ask.” There. He said it. Now he will have to endure the rest of the drive with that awkward declaration hanging in the air.
“Thank you. That means a great deal,” he gives Charlie a brief smile, before turning his eyes back to the road.
———