All I Want to Hear - Ch5

Thank you for all the lovely comments to chapter 4. It's such a relief to know my readers are still out there and waiting patiently for more. Big thanks to my beta, mxpi1970.

As always, I own nothing. Stephenie Meyer owns all.

~o.O.o~

Chapter 5

They lie together, dozing, relaxed and uninhibited. Hands stroke back and forth, caressing without thought or intention, just the simple reassurance of skin on skin that both have craved for so long. Edward’s fingers roam Carlisle’s stomach, leaving trails of heat in their wake. His face rests against his chest, the steady thump of Carlisle’s heart vibrating through his ear.

“I’m afraid to stop touching you in case you disappear.”

He looks up, hesitant of what he might see in his lover’s eyes, his own face open like a child’s. Carlisle’s hand is in his hair, the soft stroking motion sending shivers of delight down his spine.

“I’m not going anywhere, I promise. Not today.”

Carlisle can’t not touch Edward. Looking into his trusting face, he sees heartfelt honesty tinged with fear etched into his expression. His gaze takes in Edward’s flushed cheeks, his reddened lips, and hunger stirs just below the surface, ready to reawaken. The feeling is so unfamiliar but he is struck by how right it feels to be in Edward’s arms; Edward is his gravity holding him to this place, grounding him, giving his life form and purpose.

Right now, New York seems a lifetime ago...

~o.O.o~

Carlisle’s agoraphobia, although he refuses to acknowledge it as such, has worsened during his time of self imposed incarceration. His fear means he only feels safe within his own space, panic setting in when he is away from home too long. When forced to travel he has a need to find a safe haven; the Dragonfly served that purpose to perfection. To add to his worries, he has yet to confess to Edward that he isn’t openly gay and he fears how his lover will react to this news. Although Carlisle doesn’t class himself as in the closet, it is a fact that he lives, in his own way, closeted from the world around him.

~o.O.o~

“What time is it?”

Edward’s sleepy question nudges Carlisle out of his own head and back into the room. He realises his hand is still enmeshed in Edward’s hair.

“Around 7pm I think. We’ve been lying here a good while.”

He smiles, content to stay there for hours more when Edward snuggles in tighter to his body, a warm arm resting across his ribs. However, the sound of a complaining stomach raises a groan from his prone form.

“I think we burned off the pasta a while back. My body needs fuel if I’m to be any use to you later this evening.”

Carlisle bites his lip, a grin spreading across his face at the promise of later. It looks as though they have matching appetites in more ways than one.

With a groan of exertion, Edward pushes himself up the bed.

“Come on, let’s go out and get something.”

He claims a kiss, his body lying atop Carlisle; the kiss is short lest it lead to more before they can bring themselves to leave the warm nest they have created. Carlisle nuzzles his nose.

“We have to get dressed? Where’s room service when you need it?”

Edward adopts a serious expression, his voice velvety smooth, that of the consummate professional.

“Mr Cullen, I was under the impression you were very happy with the service you received this afternoon and would be interested in ordering more of the same for later this evening. Was I mistaken?”

He tilts his head, one eyebrow raised in challenge. Carlisle snakes both arms around him, rolling him onto the cold side of the bed. Edward yelps in shock before dissolving into joyous laughter, his body shaking beneath the warmth of Carlisle’s body.

“Okay! Okay! We can stay in, but I need to eat. Come on, let’s get to the kitchen. The sooner we eat the sooner we...”

Carlisle cuts off his words with a kiss that promises more.

“Kitchen. Now.”

 After reassessing the contents of the refrigerator, they decide on their meal and prepare it together, the pair of them clad only in bathrobes to protect them from the sizzling skillet. 

Cooking becomes an intimate act, something to share and create together, and so it follows that when the food is ready, the eating of it becomes less formal, more playful. They decide to use chopsticks, Carlisle delighting in feeding morsels of chicken to Edward, kissing away any sauce droplets that escape his lips. Edward is in heaven, loving the attention and knowing that this game of foreplay will continue beyond the meal and back between the rumpled sheets.

~o.O.o~

The sun is setting, the curtains parted to allow dying orange flames to lick the walls, clinging to their last moments of life. Fingers of blazing fire caress their exhausted bodies, entangled, still craving the sanctity of skin on skin.

“I’m going to show you the town tomorrow; I’ll take you to some of my favourite haunts.”

Edward’s face is alight with enthusiasm and happiness. Carlisle exhales in a steady stream, a calming manoeuvre.

“Sounds amazing.”

“You’ll love the café; the food’s great. Kate spoils me – I’m sure I get bigger helpings when she’s serving. I think she’s trying to fatten me up for winter.”

He grins at the memory, his eyes downcast, a little embarrassed at the admission. Carlisle fights for control of his irrational rising panic.

“Does she know? That you’re gay, I mean?”

“Oh yeah! She isn’t trying to hit on me; she just likes to mother me. It’s nice. She cares, you know?”

His face drops a little, his smile so genuine that it hurts Carlisle’s heart.

“You miss your mother?”

“I hardly remember her. I miss the concept of a mother, and Kate seems to know that without asking. She made me a cake for my birthday and wouldn’t let me pay her. She’s so thoughtful.”

“She sounds wonderful.”

He strokes Edward’s arm in a reassuring gesture; his answering smile makes his heart sing.

“So tell me about your mom - is Mrs Cullen proud of her author son?”

“There is no Mrs Cullen.”

His voice is sharp, out of character, and Edward backtracks immediately.

“I’m sorry; I remember you saying now that you were on your own. I didn’t mean to dredge up painful memories.”

“She isn’t dead. She just isn’t in my life anymore.”

“I’m sorry.” Unsure of what to do, he kisses Carlisle’s neck in an apologetic gesture. “I didn’t mean to pry. Forgive me?”

He hopes that one day Carlisle will feel able to trust him. For the moment they are too new, their relationship bonds still forming and easily fractured. Edward must tread carefully.

Carlisle’s heart is heavy, his throat blocked with all the words unsaid. It can only be a matter of time before something has to give and he knows he is on borrowed time. This connection they share could soon evaporate like morning mist, leaving him with only memories and self loathing.

“It’s okay. I didn’t mean to snap. I just can’t...” he shakes his head. “Not yet.”

He turns his head to kiss his lover, to make amends for his momentary loss of composure, and Edward sees the fear in those cobalt depths, wanting nothing more than to protect him from the world that has hurt him.

~o.O.o~

Determined to leave the house and enjoy a rare chance to see the sun, Edward wakes early and sneaks out of bed to shower and dress. After fixing the coffee, he carries two cups through to his bedroom and takes a moment to simply gaze at the beauty of Carlisle sleeping, his face relaxed, not a care in the world to disturb him. Remembering his insomnia and his penchant for working through the night, he almost checks to see if the laptop is set up in the lounge room, but somehow doubts it; he woke in the same position he fell asleep, his body spooning Carlisle’s prone form, his arm draped across his body. Placing a mug down gently onto the nightstand, he strokes the blond hair that lays feathered across his brow and sees him stir, eyes fluttering open. For a beat he looks lost, confused; his expression clears.

“You’re up already? Is that coffee?”

Edward smiles, understanding that need for the first cup of the day. Carlisle looks over, sees the cup and reaches for it, taking a grateful sip of the fragrant liquid. Groaning in appreciation, he swallows some more.

“This is excellent coffee.” Edward grins, sitting down on the edge of the bed, his own cup in hand. Carlisle looks up. “So other than making me my morning java, why are you dressed and not back in here with me?”

His gaze is curious and not without a degree of wariness.

“The sun is shining and I so rarely get to enjoy it. So I want to show you my town, starting with breakfast at Kate’s, like we talked about. You in?”

Carlisle clears his throat, buying himself a couple more precious seconds to compose himself.

“Sure; sounds good.”

Edward looks so happy that Carlisle feels guilty for his momentary uneasiness.

“Bathroom’s free. See you in a few minutes.”

Edward senses Carlisle’s hesitance and leaves him to it, giving him the alone time he needs to sort out his thoughts. Shortly afterward, he hears the shower and goes to wait on the sofa, coffee and book in hand. When Carlisle reappears, hair damp, dressed in jeans and a dark blue shirt, he almost forgets to breathe.

Carlisle is dumbfounded at Edward’s blatant stare of appreciation and can only watch as 

Edward stands and steps toward him.

“I’m the luckiest guy in the world. Come on – I want to show Kate I wasn’t imagining you.”

Stepping out into the bright morning sunshine, Edward squints down the street. It’s quiet, the working folk having already left, but the main hustle and bustle has yet to start and the peace is welcoming. They cross and head down the street towards a small grocery store and indoor market. They pass a pharmacy with darkened windows, the sign on the door proclaiming their opening time to be almost an hour from now. A small street, barely wide enough for a car, runs alongside the pharmacy and Carlisle can see a small parking lot behind the store, empty at this hour. What grabs his attention is the old building further along the sidewalk, the shabby sign above the window barely legible due to peeling paint. He slows, seeing the shop front is filled with shelves crammed with books; through the window Carlisle can make out a long narrow store with floor to ceiling shelves. The sign reads ‘Munroe’s Bookstore’, a sign on the window states they also sell antiquarian books. Carlisle’s interest is piqued, and Edward notices.

“I love that store; I can get lost for hours. Not that I get the chance often with my shifts. Say – want to go take a look later?”

The bright answering smile settles it.

His hand reaches back for Carlisle’s, but he succeeds only in brushing his fingertips over it, the hand withdrawn before he can try any further. Not wanting to acknowledge the incident, Carlisle follows as he is led down a small side street, narrow and empty of pedestrians. It is then he sees the metal sign standing outside, the bright, hand painted lettering spelling out ‘Kate’s’, and follows Edward inside. It is neat, clean and welcoming, the aromas of toast, bacon and pancakes dancing on the air, duelling with the dominant scent of coffee pervading the café.

The place is empty.

An attractive blonde woman appears, a wide smile curving her lips.

“Morning, Edward! Who’s your friend?” 

Her green eyes flash, taking in Edward’s pink cheeks and lopsided smile.

“Kate, I’d like you to meet Carlisle. Carlisle, this is my friend, Kate.”

Her smile is mischievous. She looks at Carlisle, head tilted.

“So you do exist! Edward told me he met one of his favourite writers, and I thought he was spinning me a yarn, but here you are. You look good together too. So is this a date? Do I need to use my good china?”

Her laugh rings out and Edward grins with embarrassed pride, not noticing how Carlisle’s hands fidget, his grip on the laminated menu turning his knuckles white.

“Can I have the pancakes, Kate, with syrup, and hold the hair ruffling? And yes, this is a date of sorts.”  He tries to catch Carlisle’s eye without success.

She smirks and turns.

“What about you, handsome? What can I get you?”

Carlisle looks up for a fleeting second, uncomfortable under Kate’s teasing scrutiny.

“Coffee please and I’ll take an order of pancakes too with a side of bacon.” The smallest of polite smiles touches his lips and it is enough – for now.

“Sure thing, hon; I’ll be back in a flash.”

She strides off to the kitchen. Edward, seeing Carlisle’s hand resting stiffly on the tabletop, reaches out to stroke his knuckles in reassurance. The hand is pulled away, the movement hasty and hurtful, and Edward’s smile falters, his hand sliding away as if stung.

Carlisle swallows hard, unable to look at his lover. His voice drops.

“Not here.”

Kate breezes back to their table, two stacks of pancakes and bacon deposited in front of them.

“I’ll be back in a jiff with your coffees!”

The door to the kitchen closes behind her and the rattle of crockery can be heard before she returns with two clean cups in one hand, full coffee jug in the other. Filling the cups, she winks at Edward before ruffling his hair. Exasperated, he ducks without success and pulls a face to which Kate simply smiles in that motherly way of hers. It’s a battle he can never win.

They eat in uncomfortable silence until Edward can’t hold back any longer. His voice is low, modulated, his frustration controlled.

“She wouldn’t have seen; she wouldn’t have cared if she had. She was just joking around, being friendly. Can I only touch you when we’re alone, is that it?”

Leaving the house has broken the spell. Carlisle’s relaxed demeanour has dissipated and guilt and shame are eating away at him for his current behaviour, but he can’t let go of the fear of discovery, haunting him at every turn. He struggles to eat his breakfast, each mouthful swallowed turning to rocks in his chest. Panic is setting in and he feels crushed at Edward’s perceived disappointment in him.

Edward feels stymied, needing Carlisle to be open and proud of who he is, of who they could become. He understands that there are issues to be overcome, but to be denied something so small causes him undeniable pain. In the midst of his confusion, he poses a quiet question that had never crossed his mind until now.

“Are you out?”

Carlisle’s hand shakes when he takes a long gulp of coffee, avoiding the question and thereby giving Edward his answer. He toys with his food in silence, an aura of panic rolling off of him even as Edward tries to evoke calm.

“It’s okay; I just needed to know...”

Carlisle sucks in a shaky breath, his words contrite.

“I tried once, I thought it would be...” he shakes his head, a minute movement that does not invite discussion, and Edward feels helpless, unable to offer comfort.

“Forget I said anything. We’ll talk about this when you’re ready.”

Carlisle pushes his plate aside, barely touched, and gulps his coffee. Edward finishes his pancakes and wraps the untouched bacon in a paper napkin for later before heading to the counter to pay. When he returns he sees Carlisle draining his cup.

“Better?”

He smiles, the action involuntary whenever he looks into those intoxicating blue eyes. He senses the chaos behind his gaze, feels the confusion emanating from him in that moment, and wants so much to reach out. But being unable to touch him in the physical proximity of others, all he has are his words.

His voice.

He resolves to encourage him in any way he can to vent his troubles. The pain he harbours is a poison, honesty the only antidote.

Not to be deterred, he motions to the street outside.

“Shall we go back?”

He receives an awkward yet grateful smile.

“Can we? But I’d like to see a bit more of your town on the way back.”

“You’re on.”

Shouting farewell to Kate back in the kitchen, they leave the cosy café and walk back out into the warm morning sun.

“I’ll take us home a different way to show you the sights.”

Before they even reach the river, the fresh smell of the water laces the clean, early morning air. The scene is peaceful, the small pleasure craft boats all moored, waiting for the weekend when their families will once again take to the water. The homes he can see dotted over on the far shore are interspersed with trees, giving the view an idyllic feel. The spire of the local church is visible, built on higher ground.

Watching the sun sparkle on the rippling body of water, everything in Carlisle itches to reach out and take Edward’s hand. He aches for the feeling of safety and grounding, the security that being with Edward brings, but when his fingers twitch, on the cusp of reaching out for his warmth and reassurance, he hears voices and his hand stills. He feels frustrated, impotent, alternating between self hatred and yearning. He takes a moment to appreciate Edward’s beauty in the soft light, the way his hair shines, the easy relaxed stance, hand by his side so open and inviting. He fights the urge to scrub his eyes with the heel of his hand, feeling the hopelessness of the situation compound the longer he spends in the company of one so beautiful.

Edward holds his position, almost drowning in the desire to wrap an arm around Carlisle’s waist, to rest his chin on that wide shoulder and nuzzle into his neck. He knows that such actions would be rebuffed – for now – but he intends to get to the root of the issue, to show Carlisle how incredible the world can be when you embrace it with open arms.

Without fear.

For now, he will not push and risk damaging this delicate bond they are forging. It is enough to know that later that night they will be joined together in a heated meeting of minds and souls, their bodies divulging secrets that their mouths dare not voice.

Carlisle finds he can cope with the unfamiliarity of his surroundings with Edward by his side. Knowing that he can reach out to him if he feels panic is a huge comfort. However, as people start to fill the streets, the hour turning, his chest tightens and his brief confidence ebbs.

Edward sees the change in him and puts a tentative hand on his forearm, the gesture safe and innocuous.

“Enough for today; let’s go home.”

He leads the way back to his comfortable home, the safe sanctuary that Carlisle craves.

~o.O.o~

“You drink too much coffee.”

Edward smiles at Carlisle who sits drinking what is his fourth cup of the day, and it’s not yet 10am.

“Is there such a thing?”

He sips more of the scalding brew, his eyes pinched at the corners, tongue burning.

“You should cut down a little; so much caffeine – your nerves would thank you for it. You must get jumpy, being wired all the time.”

Carlisle is silent, unable to dispute this. He thrives on it, the jolt necessary to start his day and his mental processes, but he cannot deny that he uses it to avoid facing other issues. This silence worries Edward, concerned he has overstepped the mark.

“Well, I like coffee too but I also like juices and tea. Especially in the morning before I sleep; it helps me wind down.” He pauses before plunging on. “But then, you don’t sleep much, do you. You told me that. I thought I would’ve woken last night when you got up.”

The statement is met with a beat of silence. Carlisle’s throat is tight, the words hard to enunciate.

 “I didn’t get up.”

“But you did wake?”

Edward’s face falls, disappointment in the perception that Carlisle had still wanted to leave his bed, leave him.

The response when it comes is raw, the words dragged from his throat as if against his will.

 “Yes, I woke, I always do, but when I remembered where I was and felt your body against mine, I didn’t want to move. Nothing could have made me leave you and I lay there just watching you sleep, so peaceful; at some point I drifted off again. That...” he licks coffee from his lip, just the tip of his tongue, a nervous gesture, “that’s unheard of for me, to fall back to sleep. I would normally toss and turn and get up anyway, frustrated and edgy. I think it was your breathing... it soothed me.” He looks up then, eyebrows knotted and brow furrowed, praying for understanding. “Being here with you, it-it keeps the demons away.” His laugh is humourless, so astonished is he at his own honesty. “There’s no other explanation for it.”

Edward reaches across the small table and grips his hand, fingers curling around his own in response.

“Now we’re getting somewhere.”

The smile he receives is genuine, a chink in the armour visible to the naked eye.

They settle in together to read, comfortable and content to just be together. After lunch, despite his best efforts to stay awake, Edward has to nap, his body clock confused by the change in routine. Carlisle uses this time to explore the house, to soak in its charm and disorganised comfort, the very antithesis of his own cool, sterile apartment. The piles of books leaning against the overflowing bookcase are paperback classics, whereas the books on the bookcase are hardbacks in the main, possibly favourites that Edward reads over and over. He remembers seeing a second bookcase in the bedroom and resolves to check that one out in the morning and see what titles live on those shelves. Edward’s tastes are diverse, and although the predominant genre to be found is historical, there are also crime and chillers too. Carlisle smiles to himself when he spots an old copy of Winnie the Pooh tucked into the very end of a rack. The flyleaf holds a message from a loving mother to her 5 year old son and an uncharacteristic lump forms in his throat. He replaces the book with all the reverence and respect afforded a precious artefact from Edward’s childhood.

For the first time in some years he feels the loss of his family’s love.

~o.O.o~

When Edward wakes, Carlisle joins him on the bed and they lay together, quiet, each just gazing at the other. It is Carlisle who breaks the silence, needing to open up, to express in his awkward way how he came to be here at all.

Seeing the phone by the bed sparks a moment of clarity.

“It took me so long to decide to call. I tried so many times and hated myself for hanging up. It was cowardly. To lie here now, remembering the sounds you made for me...” he breathes hard, the words begging to be freed no matter the pain the admission causes him, “it was more than I felt I deserved. You made – no, you make me happy.”

Edward’s hand traces the face that lives in his heart, feeling a cheek heated by the bloom of apprehensive roses; the gaze he meets reveals a soul both naked and vulnerable.

“I so wanted you here with me, Carlisle. Every day I hoped more and more that you’d call. I just couldn’t leave it like that. I needed more of you.”

“And now?” His voice is dry and cracked. Edward’s hand stills against his cheek.

“I still do. You’re an addictive drug; I’m going to need regular fixes.” His face takes on a serious edge. “I understand if you want to take this slow. As long as we can still see each other because the thought of not seeing you is ...”

His words stall, but Carlisle understands what is unsaid.

“I know how you feel. This is all so new to me - I hardly know how to do this, what to say. Be patient with me? I don’t want to disappoint you.”

Edward’s face is pinched and he pushes himself up on one elbow to meet Carlisle’s anxious eyes, seeing the trepidation therein.

“Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that. You couldn’t disappoint me. Whatever happened to you, whatever you did, I can handle it, or not.  I won’t push. Just know that you can tell me. You can tell me anything.”

Carlisle’s response is to pull his lover closer, to place a kiss on his parted lips for reassurance. 

His reply is heartfelt and ragged.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Yes, you do.”

~o.O.o~